#i keep thinking i'm numb to her being gone

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Hollow Heart - LN

Summary: Lando loses everything and other people have moved on and kept going like nothings changed

Warnings/themes: Major character death, mourning/grief - no specifics of crash or specific of injuries for cause of death mentioned

F1 driver!reader

This is sad imo, so be warned.

No part 2 requests please

Lando was numb throughout her funeral, always just too far into the void to feel anything but the weight crushing his chest. It feels like he's suffocating, as if he hasn't been able to breathe for 2 weeks now.

The sun went down for that race and it never came back in his world. He's just lost in the darkness, blindly letting other people lead and guide him around in hopes that he can trust them to be making him do the right thing.

"Lando, mate." Jon states snapping Lando out of the daze. Something that Jon has had to do a lot since they came back for the Monaco GP. "We need to get moving."

The last thing Lando wants to do is leave his apartment. He doesn't want to see people, he wants to go back home. He wants to spend hours watching videos and looking at pictures and remembering her.

Scratch that.

He wants y/n back.

Her to be there in bed when he wakes up. To hug him whenever he can catch her between their track sessions. To drag her around on the race weekends where there isn't any F1 duties for them. To smell her. To watch her. To dance with her. To drive around Monaco with her and feel alive again.

Something in him died with her.

Something in him that was taken when he got to her first and dragged her out of the cockpit away from the flames. She was unconscious.

He didn't know she was already gone.

The sudden memory makes his stomach lurch but he manages to keep himself from the urge to be sick. He'd already been threatened about being pulled from the race thanks to a weight loss because he just hadn't been eaten properly. Jon has been practically force feeding him since they realised he'd lost 8 kilos in the first week since her death.

He's not properly gained it back but he is gaining again so the FIA are allowing him to compete.

Hardly anyone has dared to speak to him. They didn't know what to say and in a way, many of them knew her and they are in a state of mourning for her too. Not quite to the degree that Lando is, but it has affected them all.

"Hi, Lando. It's good to see you." The reporter greets as he steps up after qualifying. "That's a good position, P3."

"Yeah, it's good. I'm happy with it. I think it's the best we could do with the car. Oscar P5 behind me. We're in good positions." Lando nods earning a small nod.

"And how are you feeling going into this race?"

"Do I need to answer that?" Lando questions with a fake smile. "Shit. Probably been the worst 2 weeks of my life. But I'm hoping I can do something to give myself something to feel."

"Good luck."

It's a weak and uncertain reply but he thanks her and moves onto the next.

No one is brave enough to outright ask about how he feels about y/n. Even Lando would have to say it's a wise choice and the more respectful choice.

His family are there and he feels bad to admit that he's just not feeling good enough to talk to them. His mum is trying her best to take care of him while not smothering him. But none of them know how to comfort him.

How do you make someone feel better when they lose the person they had planned to marry and spend their life with?

-

Standing at the front of the grid, Lando sighs being the one to place her helmet on the small podium central to the drivers.

He doesn't want to look at it but when he makes the mistake of seeing a screen and sees her face, the clips of her wins and her cheering and then a clip of the two of them on the podium together.

Carlos arm around his shoulder makes the world feel like it's suddenly pressing on his shoulders and the Spaniard finds himself as the only thing keeping Lando upright and the younger man's eyes are filling with tears for the first time since y/n died.

He'd not shed any tears but this moment forces him to accept the grief and the painful truth.

The first race without her. The first race of the rest. She'll never be there at the end of a race to wave at him as they do their in laps. She'll never congratulate him when he gets a podium or ignore her celebrations for a podium to see him. She'll never wait for him once they've pulled off track and she's out the car.

She'll never do anything again. And he has to keep living and do everything without her.

How is he supposed to do that?

The silent minute in her honour ends but it's quickly followed by the anthem and Lando final finds the strength to stand upright again. His whole body feels like it's aching like someone's used him as a punch bag.

Once the anthem is over, Carlos doesn't let him go straight away.

"Are you alright, mate?" Carlos asks making Lando look at him.

"I'm going to have to be. She's not coming back." Lando states feeling his voice wobble as he says the last part and Carlos almost retracts back at his words.

It's not something anyone wanted to admit. But hearing it from Lando and hearing the agony it's bringing to him. Carlos feels like he's watched the death of a driver and now he has to watch the destruction of Lando as a result.

Lando moves away having to get to his car while Carlos moves to his own, trying to shake off the feeling that he needs to worry about Lando.

They each have tributes to y/n and Lando hates seeing it, as he catches sight of her name and number stickers onto his car. His chest squeezes before he sits down into the cockpit and remains quiet.

He sighs as they tighten the straps on him then patting his helmet.

He wanted a tribute helmet but he was in not state of mind to be wearing something for her today or to be discussing designs for her.

By some miracle he locks into a mindset that keeps him focused on the race and when they get moving.

-

After his Monaco podium, people seemed to decide Lando was fine and treated him as such.

Questions about y/n and how he is coping increased. A demand for him to just ignore his own grief.

Canada, Spain and Austria pass in a blur. Before he knows it, he's at his home race and it's been over a month since she died. Since he lost her and he has to visit her.

"We really need you in today on the sim. We're adding those upgrades on the car-"

"I'm not available today." Lando cuts in as he stares at his phone. Andrea having called since Lando didn't show up.

"We need you here today, mate."

"You have Oscar. I'm going to my girlfriend's grave. Remember her? The driver who died in Imola?" Lando almost spits then hanging up in hopes of containing his rage before he looks out his car window to the graveyard. His body slumps forward at the sound of his phone going off, resting his forehead on the steering wheel.

He hasn't been back here since he spent nearly 8 hours sitting at the foot of her grave after her funeral. No one bothered to try and move him. His suit got muddy and he was there till dark.

Eventually he feels the 10 ton weights keeping him in the car lift just enough for him to get out the car, grabbing the bouquet of tiger lilies along with a couple other things he wanted to put there that he thinks she'd have liked.

When he gets there he sighs with a frown, he hates seeing her grave. As much as it's a means to remember her. It's a reminder that she's not here and it hurts.

"I'm sorry, I haven't been back. I wanted to...but it's been so hard...everything is still where you left it in my apartment. I bought a few bottles of your perfume so I could spray it around...on your pillow in bed and your spot on the sofa...and on that McLaren hoodie that you would only wear when you knew no one would see it." Lando states, more than aware he sounds like a crazy person by talking to dead person's grave. "I love you so much."

He begins placing the flowers in the vase that is built fixed to the stone. He'll have to come back more often to replace them and make sure she always has flowers. She loves putting flowers around his apartment. In fact thinking back on it, the last ones she bought have to still be in the vase. No doubt wilted and dead.

"No one understands, y/n. No one understands what it feels like. I want to keep going, I know that you'd never forgive me for being like this." Lando mumbles rubbing his hand over his face before he sighs softly. "Everyone seems to be happy to forget you...and just move on. Like you dying is just an...inconvenience. I'm not ready to move on...I don't know if I'll ever be ready...but the grass hasn't even properly grown over."

There's small sprouts a thin growth but not enough for her to blend in with the rest.

He places down the other little gifts including a letter he'd written, it'll get wet and ruined in the rain, grow soggy and fall apart into the ground. She'll never know what it says.

"I just wish I had one more conversation with you. I don't even know what I'd say. But I'd do anything to even just listen to you talk." Lando sighs before hearing someone clear their throat behind him, she scuffling of shoes on the dry grass. "Y/m/n."

"Lando...I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you back here." Y/m/n states making him quickly stand up. "She'd love those lilies."

"Yeah?" Lando smiles feeling a wave of grief drowning him.

Y/n's mum looks as hollowed out as he feels. He lost the the love his life but she lost her daughter. He remembers a comment his mum had made to his dad when they thought he wasn't listening about how a parent never imagines a day they have to bury their own child and how they couldn't imagine the type of pain.

Y/n always looked so much like her mum, pictures of y/m/n in her youth could be mistaken for pictures of y/n. Though a slightly different hair and eye colour combination. But the facial features and even body type were all replicated as if y/m/n had just cloned herself.

They were hurting enough just seeing Lando morph into a shadow of himself.

"How have you been, Lando?" Y/m/n asks then straining her smile. "And I mean really how have you been?"

"I don't know how to breathe without her." Lando admits feeling like maybe he's been neglecting to recognise that y/m/n might just be the one person in the world who can understand his pain. "And sometimes I don't want to wake up because I know that she's never going to be there again."

Y/m/n nods before taking a shaky breath in and smiling.

"And I don't understand how people can say it gets easier, because every single day it feels even harder than the last and I'm not even sure I want it to get easier because then I feel like I'll completely have lost myself."

He can't even stop himself when he moves forward and hugs the woman when he realises he's caused tears, but now he's also feeling tears trickle down his own cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly." Y/m/n frowns making swallow thickly then Lando decides he knows how he'd rather spend his day.

"Will you come to lunch with me? I have people I want to avoid and...I think I'd rather be with someone who...doesn't think the right thing to tell me is to just move on." Lando states earning a small smile.

"You could come to our house. I've been learning all sorts of new recipes and baking...the only way I know to kill the time. It still feels wrong doing it without an extra pair of hands but I think your company while I cook and then eating together will make up for it."

"I could try helping." Lando smiles feeling maybe the first spark of happiness in a long time. He almost forgot what it feels like. Though it's snuffed out as quick as it appeared, it still manages to keep up the smile because spending the day with someone who is a piece of y/n and he wants to keep hold of that.

#f1 #fanfic #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando x reader #lando #norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris mclaren #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #ln4 fluff #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #mclaren f1 #mclaren #ln4 one shot #ln4 x you #ln4 x y/n #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[gardenofnoah]

so listen i had this thought that i will inevitably never flesh out completely but in my mind....bakugou ends up being a young, single dad. and in the beginning it's terrible—he's a pro hero for god's sake, but he can't figure out how the hell to take care of a baby. his mother tries to help him but when you give him an inch he takes a mile, so he just kind of. makes himself scarce for a while. and mitsuki is so preoccupied with keeping his baby alive that she doesn't really notice at first. but when he's gone for a week straight, she's like. oh. oh no. he takes one step inside the house and she's immediately like. this is the type of man you are?

and that does something to straighten him out—but it leaves him with a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. so he raises his little girl to be a soldier. she's always polite and self-sufficient, even as a toddler. it feels necessary, because he's still very much an active hero and he can't always be around—but then she gets older and he's not quite sure how to interact with her like he should and she has that same rage he knows like the back of his hand and he's like oh shit.

i imagine meeting you feels inconsequential at first—you're a neighbor or something, and you notice that it's just the two of them. you run into each other enough times that it feels weird that you haven't introduced yourself yet, so you do, and things progress from there. but it's slow—he's busy and guarded and so are you, really—you lived through that war too and under no uncertain terms did you intend to be someone's mother. and evidently his daughter feels the same, because when you meet her for the first time, it's the only time bakugou has seen his daughter cry since she was a baby.

and i think it takes years for her to warm up to you. open hostility turns to a numbed indifference, but you break her down slowly—you don't feel like you have much of a maternal instinct but there's a clear lack of something that she needs that bakugou just can't give. so you try your best to just be there—to be something new that she can take or leave as she pleases.

you don't think you're doing a great job and things still feel very strained for a while. except one day there's an accident. someone breaks into your place or something? and you're fine, but it's really poor timing, because bakugou's daughter gets home from school to find an ambulance and several police cars in front of the building. and she just loses it—some cop tries to stop her from getting through the front door and you catch her frantic eyes over his shoulder—

"move—that's my fuckin' mom—"

and even in the chaos, something in you settles. she finally gets around him—later you find out she bit him but bakugou's manager takes care of it before her dad catches wind of it—and nearly takes you out with the force of her hug. it makes you snort.

"i'm fine, kid," you press a kiss to her blonde hair, "and watch your mouth."

#DO YOU SEE IT #DO YOU SEEEEEE IT #bkg it's the little things #bakugou drabble

[tinycozycomfort]

moon, a hole of light

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader

day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia -> read her day one here

summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean

word count: 2.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.

main masterlist

A lot of life is weeping. 

In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh. 

It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’. 

So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room. 

But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.

He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave. 

Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain. 

He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him. 

He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed. 

It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.

Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded. 

He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.

Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone. 

Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined. 

You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.

When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed. 

Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone. 

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.

Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?” 

You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”

He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?” 

He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush. 

“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”

You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water. 

“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.” 

Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”

He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”

You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge. 

There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening. 

So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high. 

He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.

You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.  

“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”

“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”

Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.

“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.

His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much. 

“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”

He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.

“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.” 

“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.

“Cry about it.” 

Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh. 

And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core. 

“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up. 

With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest. 

The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face. 

Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room. 

He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal. 

You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts. 

“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”

“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?” 

You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting. 

He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.

He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.” 

You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling. 

“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”

Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.

You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.

He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat. 

“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[antiquarianfics]

Sun to Me

If there is one thing Bucky Barnes remembers about his mother, it is that she told him to find someone who plants flowers in the darkest parts of him. If there is one thing Bucky Barnes knows about Reader, it is that they grow him to the clouds.

A/N: Okay, so. (1) Thank you all so much for the incredible response to my last fic, "Timeless." It's given me the motivation to keep writing fics for y'all. (2) Apparently my inspiration strictly comes from music; thus this Zach Bryan "Sun to Me" inspired fic. Enjoy! Genre: Fluff / WC: 1,049 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x G!N Reader Rating: PG / Warning(s): N/A Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

Children rarely grasp the concept of marriage when they're little. They understand that their parents get married because they love each other, and that's about as far as it goes. Children rarely grasp the concept of different types of love when they're little. They understand that their parents love each other, and they understand that their parents love them, but that's about as far as it goes. Bucky Barnes was no exception to this human truth when he was young. He remembers being 5 or 6--lifetimes ago--telling his mother he was going to marry her. He loved his ma: you marry the people you love.

Winnifred had gently taken her son in her arms, sitting on their solid living room couch.

"My darling boy," she had said, "you can't marry me. I'm your ma."

Bucky had made a face, protesting. "I love you, though!" He had argued with his mother. "You said people marry people they love."

"I did say that," Winnifred agreed, "but the way I love your father is different than the way I love you. You don't get it now, but one day, you'll meet someone wonderful. When you meet that person, you'll understand what I mean."

Bucky had made a face, scrunching his eyebrows together and biting his lip in confusion.

"James," his mother had said, "you'll find someone someday, somewhere that plants flowers in the darkest parts of you--someone who grows you to the clouds. You'll find someone who loves you the way I love your dad. I promise, sweetheart."

---

Bucky wakes to your alarm blaring--your third, if he counted right. He had woken up three times now to the blaring alarm that you have snoozed just as many times, not stirring more than you have to to pause the incessant noise. Bucky lie in your shared bed, staring at the ceiling and sure he would be unable to fall back asleep for a fourth time. Tiredly, he looked over to the digital clock on his nightstand, reading the taunting 5:32 A.M. in the aggressive red. Running a hand over his tired face, he is about to pull himself out of bed and start his day, but he looks beside him first.

There you are, fast asleep, ignoring every attempt your alarm makes to rouse you. He briefly thinks you're going to oversleep, but he also knows you set alarms earlier than you need to wake up to account for each time you hit snooze.

You're sprawled across your side of the bed, your legs tangling with his and arms tied around your pillow. It's only then that he realizes his legs have gone numb from being pressed beneath your own. He can't bring himself to care, though.

As he watches you sleep--your chest slowly rising and falling as you breathe--he smiles softly. He decides right then that anything he could possibly choose to do at 5:32 A.M. is not nearly as appealing as lying with his partner.

Bucky then rolls onto his side, letting his left arm wrap around you, pulling you close. He breathes in the smell of your shampoo, and he thinks it's something floral. The smell reminds him of his mother--a lifetime ago--telling him to find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of him. It's funny, he thinks, that a smell could pull out such a memory that the brainwashing and science experimenting had fought to erase completely, but he is glad it did.

He misses his mother for a moment. He had lost her so early on, but he remembers how he loved her, how she loved him. He remembers then how his mother had assured him the way they loved each other would be different than how he loves you. He can't help but laugh softly to himself. You were right, Ma, he thinks, I understand now.

You really are something special. You are the kind of person he thinks his mother would have loved. Your kind disposition, your intelligence, your strength: just you. You are the kind of person, too, that took his history, his scars, and his damaged heart and sowed a plentiful garden. You planted flowers in his soul where there had been thorns. You watered the sprouts every night to allow them to eventually bloom. You were there for every nightmare, every court appearance, every fight. You were there to pick up the pieces when he felt most broken. You were there to grow him to the clouds.

He hopes he has been the same for you.

A fourth alarm starts blaring, screaming for you to wake up. The fourth alarm takes the title as the final alarm as you clumsily grab your cellphone, looking at it just enough to turn it off. You drop your phone next to you on the bed before turning around in your lover's arms.

"Mornin', handsome," you say before letting out a yawn.

"Good morning, Doll," he replies easily, gently swiping a stray hair away from your eyes with his finger. "You know, you slept through 3 alarms this morning," he says with a teasing (albeit slightly annoyed) tone.

You groan. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Gave me time to just hold you."

You hum happily, leaning forward to softly kiss his lips. He happily reciprocates. When the two of you part, he smiles at you.

"I remembered something."

"Was it actually 4 alarms?" You ask playfully.

Bucky chuckles and leans his forehead against yours.

"Nah, it was just 3," he assures you. "I remembered something my ma told me."

"Oh!" You exclaim, a little surprised. "That's an early memory!"

He grins. "Yeah, it is."

"So? What'd she tell you?"

"She told me that somewhere, someday, I'd find someone who grows flowers in the darkest parts of me. Someone who grows me to the clouds. I was, like, 6, I think, so it made no sense when she said it to me."

You smile softly, letting your hand cup his face tenderly. You don't say anything, though, opting to let him share his newfound memory at his own pace.

"But I get it now. It took a literal century, but I get it now. You're the person Ma told me I'd find."

"Can I tell you a secret, Buck?"

"Anything, Doll."

"I love you, too."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x g!n reader #bucky x male!reader #bucky x female!reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n

[avenging-fandoms]

no but i'm still not over the fact if you were a kook and you were dating jj, you obviously would think he's dead bc of how long he was missing for but when your mom told you someone was there to see you, you'd turn around and you'd see jj, worse for wear and you'd immediately hug him.

if you had one of his necklaces and you were still wearing it, he'd point that out too brb sobbing

"Yn, you have got to get out of bed, it's been 3 weeks since you barely left this room" Your mom scolded, but you were too upset to even turn your body. You clung tightly on one of JJ's hats with his necklace in your hand which was around your neck, wishing you could fall into the mattress and disappear.

Your boyfriend was dead.

JJ Maybank was the only Pogue to treat you with respect. When he asked you out, you thought it was a dare, a challenge to see if a Pogue like him could get with a Kook like you. You were far off, his friends didn't even know about him asking you out, they would've said no.

You fell deeply in love with JJ for over a year, even though he would be gone for days. But this time, it was weeks. You wanted to keep hoping he was coming back, but after the first week, you started to lose it. Every day seemed long, checking your phone obsessively for a text, a call, anything.

Nothing.

"This is ridiculous" Your mother huffed and slammed the door, your eyes barely batting at the loud noise. You were numb. JJ was the only one who made you feel safe and heard, and vice versa.

You sat up, taking your body and the hat to the bathroom. You took the hat everywhere you went in the house, it brought you comfort. But it wasn't JJ. You set the hat on the counter and turn the water on. It had been a week since your last shower, you were too sad to do anything.

Topper tried getting you out of the house, but you told him to fuck off. You hated Topper, always sticking his nose where it doesn't belong just to please his mother.

The water fell down your back, over your hair as you closed your eyes. Your washed and conditioned- twice. You took time with your body, letting yourself relax in the steam. As you stood under the water, eyes closed with your head tilted up, you pushed your hair back and just saw memories of JJ. You couldn't tell if it was water or tears, you finally cried. 3 weeks of missing JJ, 3 weeks of him being presumed dead. You let it all out, not caring if your mom could hear.

You finally calmed down, probably racking up the water bill. You turned off the water and step out, doing some skincare before heading into your room. You got dressed in shorts and one of JJ's shirts. You said on the edge of your bed, looking at your wall.

"Yn," your mother pushed into your room looking at your pillows, then at you. "Oh, you showered. Well, someone's here for you" You roll your eyes softly and force yourself to stand, heading to your door and your mother disappears in her office.

You head down the stairs and open the door, your breath no longer in your lungs. The Earth stopped turning. The world blurred, everything around you became blurry. Everything but him.

"Miss me, princess?" His voice made your ear drums ring, you could go blind staring into his bright eyes. They filled with tears, as did yours. You collide your body with JJ's and he loses his balance, laying down on the grass with you, the both of you tightly holding each other.

He tried to pulled away and you pulled him back in, crying into his neck. "I thought you were dead, JJ. I-I thought I'd never see you again" Your voice was shaking and JJ pulled away, sitting you two up and holding your cheek and brushing hair off your teary face.

"You thought I would leave you here?" He smiled and you returned one, grabbing his necklace and kissing him hard. Your arms wrap around his neck with his around your waist, your fingers in his hair. “Nice necklace by the way” he winked and you blush.

"JJ.. you know I love you with all my heart," You hold his face, rubbing your thumb over his cheek. "But.. you.. smell really gross" He laughs and you smile, JJ wiping his nose.

"I know, I know. Weeks on an island then trying to save our asses from a really scary dude, a shower was the least of my worries. Plus, I came home to a scary piece of paper on my door"

"JJ.." You rub your hand down his bicep and he shrugs. "Come stay with me, we have some catching up to do anyway"

"What about your mom?"

"I'm not worried about her. All I'm focused on is getting you a shower, fresh clothes, and something big to eat" You smile and kiss him again, bringing him inside.

You finally had your boyfriend back.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank blurb #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #rudy pankow #outer banks #outer banks 3 #outer banks season 3

[buckyalpine]

always you’s angst only ending … feed us a tiny lil drabble of maybe bucky not stopping until he and bruce and maybe even shuri (cause bby’s the smartest) find a way to bring her back?

like he enters the portal, scoops up her body, and kisses her back to life. then throws her over his shoulder, locks her in his bedroom, and makes love to her for like a week straight.

“she’s barely been back for a month- AND SHE’S ALREADY PREGNANT?!”

- ur local angst slut who’s actually hella sensitive and cannot handle this shit, gossip girl 💋

Always you angst alternative ending 

18+

Okay YES, if your a pure angst fiend, you may ignore this but I'm here to mend hearts from the sadness that was this fic.

Warnings: Angst, FLUFFFFFFF, Smuuuttttt, happy ending 

5 years later

Bucky refused to accept you being gone. He tried to heal, going to therapy, grief counselling, medication, writing letters, everything under the fucking sun to help him come to terms with the fact that he’d never see you again. 

It was impossible.

It ate him alive.

He was physically stronger, pouring all his time into the gym to find a way to numb the pain but he was more mentally fucked than ever.

It had been 5 years, nearly 6 and the raw pain he felt was still fresh. Every night, he'd wake up searching for you. He couldn't let go, holding onto the pieces you had left behind. He wrote to you as often as he could, keeping a locked diary of things he wanted to tell you, letters he knew no one would see but what else could he do when he wanted to talk to you so badly but you weren’t there. 

That didn’t stop him from finding a way to pour his heart and soul somewhere. 

_________________________________

Happy Birthday babygirl,  I wish I could wake you up with kisses today, tell you how special the world is with you in it, make you pancakes, feed you in bed because I know you’ll cuddle up in the sheets until noon. Buy you a pretty dress, take you out, maybe even go dancing, even if its just me and you and Steve’s playlist of songs from the 40′s. I’d hold you close to me all night until your feet were sore or until Tony told us to turn the cheesy music off. 

I know he secretly ships us (Peter taught me that word) 

If it were up to Stark, he’d throw you the biggest birthday party ever; that wouldn’t stop me from trying to sneak you away for some more birthday kisses. birthday cuddles. Birthday sex...is a new song Sam introduced me to. 

I wanted to do so much with you today sweet girl. Show you how much I love you on your special day. I should have shown you before it was too late. I regret it every single day. I’d give anything for just another day, just so you’d know. 

It was always you. 

Steve brought you some flowers today, Sam brought some balloons. I hope you see them from wherever you are. It’s not the same without you here angel.

We miss you baby. 

I miss you. 

Till we meet again,  JBB 

_________________________________

Hi Baby, I know it’s not a special occasion, I have no real reason to write today. I missed you though. I wanted to tell you about how I jumped out of a plane today and all I could think of is how much you would have laughed because I didn’t use a parachute. You’re laugh is the sweetest sound in the world and I’d give anything to hear it just one more time.

Sam recorded it all, you would have been the first person he showed the footage to. I’d probably ignore you both and then you’d probably tease me about being grumpy and I’d want a kiss to feel better. And a hug. Maybe some cuddles. Please? 

Also you’d be proud of me today, Red Wing broke and it wasn’t my fault. Promise. I even apologized to Sam after but he doesn’t think I’m being sincere. And I’m not because red wing is a little shit. So is Sam. 

I miss you sweets. I wish you were here. It hurts. Everything hurts. 

I hope we meet again. I’ll never let you go. 

Yours, JBB

_________________________________

My y/n,

I’m sorry. I should have told you. I regret it everyday. I’ll never stop trying to find a way to get you back. 

I love you,

JBB

_________________________________

It’s been almost 6 years. It still hurts.

Till we meet again, JBB

_________________________________

I can’t anymore. I need you back. 

JBB

_________________________________

There were some days where Bucky was able to focus, writing as much as he could, spilling all of his feelings onto the paper, a tiny part of him hoping that one day he’d be able to give you all his letters so you’d know you were all he could think of. 

Then there were the days where sobs tore through his body, his breathing labored, only managing to scribble three words before crumbling into a dark abyss. Bucky wracked his brain every single day; if you were able to go back once, there had to be a way to get you back again. Bruce and Tony had spent countless hours in the lab trying to find a way to reopen the portal but nothing led to you. 

*****

Bucky stared at his burner, pressing call and ending it before it could go through multiple times before finally letting it ring. There was only one other person he could turn to. He knew he wasn’t going to be immediately welcomed back into Wakanda but this wasn’t just about him. Everyone wanted you back. Nothing was the same without you there. If there was a 1% chance to get you back, he had to try. His chest felt tight as the jet landed in a secluded area having arranged a private meeting with Shuri, the one person he trusted with his life. 

"I-I have a favor to ask" Bucky's eyes were already pleading with her, his heart racing as he approached her, ready to fall on his knees. 

"Anything Sergeant Barnes" Shuri smiled, sensing he was there for something urgent, nodding for him to continue. There was zero hesitation as she immediately agreed to come back with him to try and get you back, bringing her own lab equipment with her so she could work with Bruce. After filtering through a number of timelines and timestamps, she’d managed to pinpoint the portal to find you but it wasn’t without its consequences. 

“You understand you may not return” Shuri whispered as Bucky threw on his tactical gear, insisting on getting you all on his own while rest of the team watched in pin drop silence, reluctantly letting him go alone “And y/n...we can get her back but there's a chance she may not...” 

She squeezed his hand before he stepped onto the platform, not wanting to finish the sentence but he already understood. He knew it was possible he’d find you again but it didn’t mean he’d find you alive. 

“Then at least I get to say goodbye” He gave her a strained smile; he had to bring you home one way or another. If this was how he had to go, he would run happily to his death; he’d be at peace knowing he died trying to find you. With the push of a button, he was instantly thrown into a warp, transported to where you had last been with Nat. Everything came to a halt as he found himself at an abandoned hydra base, the cold nipping his skin. Bucky blinked, his vision focusing on the fuzzy figure laying on the ground, his feet moving before he could process anything. 

There was no one else around. 

It was you. 

His doll. 

His y/n.

He sprinted to you, tears clouding his vision as he approached you, dropping to his knees, both fear and hope fighting for dominance. He found you. You were there. But would he ever actually get you back? Were you even breathing? 

“Y/n?” Bucky cradled you to him, scooping you in his arms and chasing the portal that had already began to close. He held your face to his neck, his metal hand protecting your head, holding you securely against his body as you both fleshed back to the present. 

The team gasped as he appeared on the platform again with you safely tucked in his arms. They didn’t dare move, everyone holding their breaths while Bucky laid you down with you still in his arms, his hand softly stroking your cheek. 

“Y/n? Doll?” His heart was beating erratically, your skin was warm, a glimmer of hope burning stronger as he gently shook you, pressing his cool metal hand against your face. “Please” 

“C’mon doll, come back to me baby, I have so much I need to tell you” He pleaded, his warm breath fanning against your face, tears brimming his eyes. Tony and Steve itched to whisk you off to the medbay while Sam silently shook his head, wanting to give Bucky an extra minute, hoping you’d be able to wake up in the super soldiers arms where you belonged. 

“Baby, wake up sweets” Bucky couldn't help himself, pressing his lips softly to your forehead, trailing feather light kisses down your face while cuddling you. “C’mon I l-love you” His voice cracked, his lips finally pressing against yours. They were still soft, warm, you had to wake up, you had to-

Your lips stirred, your eyes cracking open, taking your first breath as your eyes focused on Bucky. 

“Sweetheart?” Bucky's eyes grew wide, unsure if he was dreaming or not, scrambling to hug you closer, cupping your face gently.  

“Bucky?” Your voice was a raspy whisper, leaning into his touch, feeling his tears fall onto your skin as he pulled you into his chest. 

“My doll” He let out a soft sob, cradling your head as you buried your face into his neck, moved to cling onto him, the last thing you remembered was darkness and now you were in his arms again surrounded by his warmth, his scent. Everyone stayed rooted in place, tears falling freely, dying to grab you, hug you, hold you again but they were not about to separate the two of you, not after how badly Bucky had yearned to get you back. 

“Bucky” You wept, your mind still piecing together how you were back but it didn’t matter, not when he was holding you again. 

“Hi baby” He whispered against your hair, wiping your tears with his thumb, cupping your face, kissing you all over before capturing your lips again, relishing in your touch, feeling your fingers card through his short locks. You lost yourselves in each other, the rest of the world no longer existing. 

“Okay white wolf, When do we get to say hi to our girl” Sam snorted, sniffling seeing you tucked in Bucky’s arms, the brunettes lips curved into a smile for the first time since you’d been gone. Bucky loosened his hold around you, helping you to your feet, giving you one more kiss before letting go. 

“Come here” Steve scooped you up immediately after, struggling not to squeeze you tight, “We missed you sweet heart, so much”

“Hasn’t been the same without you” Sam gave you a once over, determining you were well enough for a slightly bone crushing hug before having you grabbed away by Tony. Tony wasn’t able to say much, biting his bottom lip to keep it from trembling, hugging you the longest, reluctant to let you go. You were engulfed in Nat’s arms as she wept, squeezing you like her life depended on it. 

“You saved me” She whispered in your hair, her tears falling onto your skin, “Don’t ever do that again” She hissed sternly, grabbing your face to look at her, “Don’t ever ever do something like that again” 

“Give me my baby back” Bucky grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulder as soon as everyone had gotten their hugs and kisses, not interested in giving anyone a second longer when he needed you so badly. You squealed, giggling as he carried you straight down the hall towards his room without glancing back. As soon as he locked the door, his hands were all over you, holding you tightly to him. 

“Your baby?” You shyly whispered as he rested his forehead against yours, nodding and chasing your lips. 

“M’never letting you go again doll, never” He trailed kisses down your neck while unbuckling the straps of your gear letting it drop to the floor. “I want to love you, I want to hold you, I want to make love to you, I want it all with you” 

Bucky tore your clothes off, hoisting you up to wrap your legs around his waist as he carried you over to the bathroom, turning the hot water on, hot water pouring over both if you. The steam made you woozy, your body turning into jelly under his touch as he massaged your muscles with delicate touches, his lips ghosting over every bruise and scar that had marked your skin. You let out a needy whimper, staying close to him, your butterflies erupting in your tummy every time he touched you. 

“Bucky please”

“I want to love you so badly baby, love you the way you deserve” Bucky willed himself not to take you right there, focused on rinsing off and grabbing a towel, carrying you over to his bed. He tossed to towel off, climbing on top of you, neither of you having the patience for a slow build or teasing. Your belly clenched feeling his hard length rut and rub against your bare cunt, your slick coating his cock. 

“I need you” He rasped while you whined, wrapping your legs around him, bucking your hips up. “You have no idea baby, God I need you” His eyes were pleading with you, his cock starting to leak feeling your arousal. 

“Wanna feel you Bucky” You spread your legs for him, your breath hitching feeling the tip of his cock rub through your folds before pressing into your entrance. 

“Gonna make love to you so good sweet girl” Bucky whispered as he started to push his cock in, his heart beating faster, cock growing harder feeling your heat pull him in deeper. He groaned, letting his body weight fall onto you as he started to thrust, pleasure consuming both of you immediately. 

“JAmessss” Your gasp melted into a moan, your head pressed against his pillow as he filled you, stretching you open, letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock. “Stretching me to so good Buckyyy” 

“Yeah? You feel so good wrapped around me baby” He rasped, his orgasm already creeping down his spine as he pressed sloppy kisses all over your face, overwhelmed with emotion and the feeling of you under him. Your moans made him twitch, nearly growling when he felt your nails dig into his skin as he kissed your cervix with each roll of his hips. 

“I missed you so much baby, didn’t know what to do with myself, I-I couldn’t breathe without you, couldn’t live-” Bucky could feel tears brimming his eyes, struggling to keep them away, “Fuck I missed you so much, I felt like I was drowning every single day” 

You sniffled over his words, your heart connected with his, squeezing your thighs around his waist, desperate to keep every inch of his body pressed with yours. 

“It-it was always you” He kissed your forehead, as he kept you caged under him, moaning against your skin.

“I love you” you cupped his cheeks, brushing his tears away, his nose lightly bumping against yours. You pulled him down for a sweet kiss, only pulling away for air. All of it was so much all at once, the quietest cries and softest kisses, feeling every inch of each other, making up for lost time. Bucky pulled the covers over you both, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth, hiding you from the rest of the world, savoring this moment with just the two of you, his sweet girl back in his arms again. 

He let his arms roam across your body, stroking your waist, your thighs, gently cupping your breasts, softly suckling your nipples, his body trembling as he tried to hold his climax off and make this moment last forever. 

“M’gonna marry you, you know that?” His hands came to lace with yours, pinning you against the bed, eyes locked with yours. His pace didn’t falter, thrusting into you, loving the way your pussy fluttered around his cock, rolling his hips so he could push into you deeper. “W-will you? Will you marry me babygirl” 

He knew you had just come back but he wanted nothing more, unable to stop the words from slipping out. You let your own tears fall down your cheeks, pulling him impossibly closer. 

“Yes” You whimpered, sniffling back sobs as he stroked your head, smiling against your lips. 

“Gonna make you my wife baby, marry you and take care of you until my last breath” He started to fuck you faster, panting, the muscles in his body tensing. 

“Tell me more Bucky, please?” You whined, your heart aching for more, everything you’d always wanted with the one person you’d always been in love with. 

“Oh baby, M’gonna get you pregnant sweet girl, have a family with you, everything with you, take care of your swollen belly, make love to you even when you’re full of me, show you how much I adore you princess” You gasped as he braced himself, his grunts growing louder, his body heat radiating off him, unable to stop the pleasure that was growing. 

“Tell me your mine baby” He whined, wrapping his arms around you while you threw your head back, your eyes rolling back at the feel of his pubic bone rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust. 

“I’m yours Bucky” 

“Fuck don’t stop y/n, please, I need it” His voice was needy, desperately clinging onto your body, craving to hear nothing else. “Say it again doll”

“I’m yours Bucky, all yours soldier” You moaned louder, your legs shaking around him “I’m gonna cum” 

“Cum with me baby, same time, please” 

“BuckyBuckyBucky- You cried our, your walls staring to flutter, ready to fall off the edge with hi. 

“M’right here, I got you, togther, c’mon, cum with me princess” Bucky rolled his hips, pounding you into the mattress, biting down onto your neck as he felt your nails scratch down his back while white hot pleasure tore through you, your pussy milking his cock. 

“FUCK JAMES” Your body trembled as he fucked you through your high, burying his face into your neck, his lips brushing by your ear. 

“YES, Yes baby, my good girl, my sweet girl, s’perfect for me, yes, I’m gonna give you my cum, get you pregnant, have a baby with you, take care of you, love you, all of it with you baby, fuck- I LOVE YOU- UGGHHH- 

Bucky collapse on you, filling you with his cum until the bed was damp, his body jolting from sensitivity each time you fluttered around him while kissing his temple. He hardly moved, a steady stream of cum still pouring into you, staying connected to you the entire night, cuddling you next to him. 

“I finally have my baby back, my sweet sweet baby, she’s back” 

It has been nearly a week since you were back but you hadn’t left Bucky’s room once. You only took a few moments to eat and sleep, the rest of the time wrapped up in each other, connected in the most intimate way possible, while whispering sweet nothings, 

It was everything Bucky needed. Emotional. Warm. Soft. Loving. 

He couldn’t help the tears every time he was inside you, he finally had you back, wrapping his arms around you every time you made love, making sure you knew exactly how much he had always adored you. As much as he wanted to take you apart in every way imaginable, he couldn’t help but slip into missionary every single time, wanting to see your pretty face, feel your body, have your legs wrap around him as he came inside you. 

*****

You threw on your coat while Bucky slipped his arm around your waist while you both made your way down, passing through the living room on our way out. 

“Damn future Mrs. Barnes” Sam whistled, along with the rest of the team, everyone gathered for a night for a movie. “Where you off to?” 

“The three of us are going out for dinner” Bucky smiled with a child like grin, snickering to himself while the team looked at you with confusion. 

“Three?” Steve cocked his head, noting the way you shied into Bucky’s chest, giggling while he kissed your head, his hand slipping down to brush over your belly. “THREE?”

Steve’s eyes grew wide as he shot out of his seat, pointing at your tummy. “THREE” He whipped his head to Tony, Nat, Sam and Clint who slowly connected the dots. “THREE” 

“For fucks sake, it hasn’t even been a month Barnes” Tony snorted, while everyone pilled onto you both, a large mess of hugs and tears. 

“You didn’t waste any time, huh” Sam wiggling his eyebrows while Bucky wrapped his arms around you, his hands splayed on your tummy. 

“Never again” He whispered, tilting your chin to kiss you deeply, “Never ever again” 

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#bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky smut #bucky fluff #steve rogers #sam wilson #tony stark #marvel smut #avengers smut #marvel fluff #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fan fic #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky fan fiction #bucky fan fic #bucky fanfic #bucky fan fics #Bucky Barnes

[worriedvision]

My first Honkai ask.

Honkai men when you walk in on them kissing an acquaintance of yours who's a chronic boyfriend-stealer.

Okay so I have tweaked this a little where the friend is someone who keeps stealing the readers crushes when they're about to make a move, like full on being supportive and all that to humiliate them. I've only gone for Dan Heng, Gepard and Sampo - well, Sampo's goes a lot better than Dan Hengs and Gepards. Obviously kind of angst for Dan and Gepard

--

Dan Heng:

When he was kissing your friend, it was after she convinced him you were not actually into him. Twisting your interactions with him intricately so that you sounded horrible, telling him you saw him as a piece of man candy you'd brag about before saying how she would treat him oh so well.

As the kiss had intensified, you opened the door.

Your mouth flies open, a myriad of emotions coming to mind. Devastated, angry, numbed. The friend was never truly kind to you, you realised as she was kissing the man you told her you were going to confess to. She knew the time and place you planned, and she went a couple of minutes in advance. She fails to hide her smirk when she pulls away, looking slyly at you.

"...So that's how it is." You nod, your lips forming a thin line. "Fine. Have fun."

Dan Heng had also caught onto the mischievous look your friend flashed, as well as how conflicted and hurt you looked as you watched the whole thing. She turns back to Dan Heng, leaning in to continue the session before she's cut off by him firmly planting her away from him.

"Aww, whats-"

"Leave. I was foolish for listening to you, I don't know you." Dan Heng admits, rubbing his temples.

"My friend would have bored you, just saying." Your friend giggles as she leaves the room, no sense of shame as she leaves him to figure out how to act next.

Gepard:

"C'mon, just a kiss." Your friend asks, Gepard trying to figure out how to let her down nicely. "I want more practice, and you're the ideal height."

"Look, I'm flattered by your request but I have feelings for someone else." Gepard replies, her rolling her eyes before pulling him in closer.

"If you make them jealous, I'm sure they'll act on their feelings if they return them right?" Your friend giggles, Gepard processing what your friend had just said, your friend glancing over as you walk in on the moment starting.

She pulls him in, wrapping her arms around his neck as she cuts him off. As guilty as Gepard felt about not finding another way to stop your friend, he did enjoy the kiss. His hands go to her waist as you see him leaning in and closing his eyes, deepening the kiss. You rush off to his sister, the person who also told you he liked you back.

Serval was concerned when she saw you running into her shop, knowing your plan to confess to Gepard. When you explain to her how your friend was starting a makeout session with Gepard, Serval was gobsmacked. She knew her brother well enough to know he loves you, why would he even let your friend close?

Pulling out her phone, she types in a series of messages explaining how he really stepped in it before deciding to spend time with you, trying to keep your mind off her foolish brother and your terrible friend.

Sampo:

Your friend was silly to think Sampo wouldn't confess his feelings and embarrass her publicly when she tries to kiss him in public, the place you planned to confess.

Sampo wasn't stupid, he knew damn well your friend was a bit of a bitch. He heard all about her from various people, and when she started her usual talk he knew her plan. She always did this right when the other friend was about to confess, and he wasn't foolish enough to fall for that trap. She begins to put on the flirtatious comments, and Sampo can see you out of the corner of his eye.

"As much as Sampo Koski enjoys receiving compliments from strangers, he only has feelings for one _! He has no room in his large heart for a woman he knows nothing of."

You heard the whole thing, as well as everyone who was out at the time, and your friend is shocked.

"There they are, the one who I love and cherish!"

#dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x gender neutral reader #gepard x gender neutral reader #gepard x reader #gepard #sampo #sampo x reader #sampo x gender neutral reader

[wintaerbaer]

things we don’t say: part 3 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 9.0k

chapter warnings: kook has literally zero chill (i’m so sorry about him), jimin channels his inner dominic toretto, taehyung is so sweet he’s giving me cavities, discussions of infidelity, swear words, namjoon still gives the best hugs

a/n: thanks for the patience in waiting for this one! for those who may have missed it, i ultimately opted to split this into two chapters, so now we’re looking at seven parts and an epilogue. :)

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

"I can make you a drink?"

"It's noon."

"So?"

You sigh, slumping on the couch. "I appreciate it, Kook, but I'm just…" You stretch out, pressing your toes into his thigh. "Tired."

The week has gone by in a blur of tears and sleep. You'd taken the rest of the week off, thankful both that you had been carefully banking your PTO in case of an emergency and also for having a manager that prioritizes empathy and mental health. When you'd practically had a breakdown explaining your situation over the phone, she'd quickly granted you the time off—no questions asked—and told you to take care of yourself.

It's been mostly your friends taking care of you, however. After the night you came back from the beach house, you'd been whisked away to the guys' apartment to stay with them, camping out on their pull-out couch, which they’d insisted you could have for as long as you want (Taehyung had pushed you to take his bed, offering to stay in the living room, but you'd begged him not to make you feel worse by displacing him, and he'd eventually acquiesced). Maya and Taehyung had then gone back late the next day to pack you a bag with no Jace encounters.

He'd only texted you once—to provide a weak apology and to let you know he'd clear out of the apartment.

Still, your plan is to stay with the guys for a while; you don't think you could bear to be in your apartment alone right now, especially knowing that Jace has been with someone else in your bed. It's like the image is seared behind your eyelids, tormenting you every time you blink and pushing your mental fortitude to its absolute limit. You haven’t made it a single day without a breakdown, feeling as though you’re constantly trying to walk an emotional tightrope.

Except the tightrope isn’t pulled taut and is also on fire.

That being said, you welcome the distraction of having your friends around. Between Jimin working days, Jungkook working nights, and Taehyung having a flexible schedule with the museum and his photography gigs, someone is always around to spend time with you. Maya’s also taken it upon herself to pop in almost every night with wine, chocolate, or some other variation of breakup food and hang out for a while. You'd feel bad about their attentiveness (you feel sometimes like they're babysitting you), if not for the fact that it's the only thing keeping you remotely sane as you fluctuate between sobs and an overwhelming numbness.

This Sunday afternoon, it's Jungkook's turn to babysit; Taehyung left to run some errands an hour ago, while Jimin slept in late and is currently taking a shower. Jungkook's reclined on the sofa next to you, longs legs stretched out in front of him with his fingers laced behind his head. You'd thrown on a TV movie—some bullshit about a woman who goes through trials of love, only to realize that her perfect man was hidden in plain sight the entire time.

If only life were that fucking easy.

"Do you want an ice cream sundae?" Jungkook suggests as the credits roll. "I can make you an ice cream sundae."

"Are you just suggesting things that make your twelve-year-old brain happy?"

His lower lip pushes out in thought. "No, if I was going to suggest things that cheer me up when I'm sad, I'd offer to go down on you—"

"What the fuck, Kook."

"Which I'm game if you are, but I didn't think you liked me like that."

"Yeah, I think I'll pass."

"Suit yourself."

"Leave her alone, idiot. She's fragile." Jimin steps into the living room from the hall, fully dressed but still towel drying his hair. He takes in your relaxed forms on the couch—you, halfway burrowed under multiple blankets—and frowns. "You're not dressed yet?"

You blink slowly at him. "Should I be?"

"Yeah, Kook and I are taking you somewhere." He looks over at the man sitting beside you. "You didn't tell her?"

Jungkook's mouth stretches into a wide grin. "Surprise!"

You're still processing what the hell is happening—your plans for today were to park yourself in this spot and not leave—when Jimin strides over and yanks the blankets off of your body.

"Chim!"

"C'mon, get dressed. We have an appointment," he says. "And wear something comfortable. You're gonna love it, I promise."

A half hour later and you’re sitting in the back of Jungkook’s black Mercedes, watching the city pass by outside your window. Now that you’re up, it does feel nice to be out of the apartment instead of wallowing inside on the couch with a tissue box in your lap (which had been the general trend of the past week). Even listening to Jungkook and Jimin bickering about navigation up front helps to distract you from the dread that lingers like a blanket draped over your shoulders. All-in-all, you feel like you’re managing the fallout of your relationship as best as one can—at least when they find their almost-fiancé in bed with another woman. But grieving the loss still means that you’ve barely eaten, barely slept, and it’s not long before you’re dozing off in the backseat, dreaming of college—of sandy brown hair and green eyes.

You wake to Jimin’s hand on your shoulder gently shaking you out of your nap.

“Hey, we’re here.”

You’re on the outskirts of the city, it seems, in front of a squat, gray building that looks almost like a tiny warehouse. Peering up at the neon sign, you read, “Smash City Rage Room?”

“Cool, right?” Jungkook says, leaning against the side of the car.

You can physically feel the lines stretching across your forehead. “I don’t get it. We’re going to…?”

“Break stuff!” He takes your hand to pull you along. “Let’s go!”

You're led into a small, unassuming lobby—flat gray like the outside. Jimin gets you checked in with a burly-looking man behind a desk, who (after you’ve all signed some suspicious-looking release forms) promptly brings the three of you to a back room where you're fitted with protective jumpsuits, helmets, and goggles and instructed to "choose a weapon" from a rack filled with baseball bats and sledgehammers. At this point, Jungkook is practically bouncing out of his skin, the absolute picture of a golden retriever waiting for a ball to be thrown.

"You guys are really trying to distract me by taking me to Kook's version of Disneyland, huh?"

"That depends, is it working?" he says, grasping one of the hammers and weighing it in his hands.

"I'm skeptical but open-minded."

"Perfect!"

He hands you a bat, and your brawny host leads you to your final room—a wide, concrete space with a sturdy table in the middle and piles and piles of objects. Wine glasses, dinner plates, a computer monitor, and even a flat screen TV sit in heaps along the walls amongst some broken shards from previous visitors.

"You're free to smash anything in the room," the muscle man says in a gruff voice, "just no intentional damage to the building's structure. If you need something, you can flag us down through the camera up there," he points to the device in one of the ceiling's corners, "and someone will come check on you. Otherwise, just be safe and have fun. We'll come get you after an hour." Then he's swinging the door shut behind him.

You look blankly at the two men in front of you. "Now what?"

"We smash!" Jungkook says happily, already dragging the flat-screen onto the table. Then, before you can even respond: "Not like that, Y/N. Get your mind out of the gutter." He swings the sledgehammer down onto the TV screen, and it caves in on itself as Jungkook giggles maniacally.

"We thought this might help to let off steam," Jimin says, cracking a smile as he slams his bat into a propped up picture frame. "Try it!"

The two of them watch with wide, expectant eyes as you gingerly pick up a small drinking glass and place it delicately on the table.

"So now I just…?" You halfway lift the baseball bat, peering down at the poor, unassuming glass in front of you.

Jungkook leans forward, eyes eager, gesturing with the hammer in a light swinging motion he's clearly wanting you to mimic.

So you swing, bringing the bat down onto the lip of the glass with a moderate amount of force. It shatters, pieces flying outwards like little slivers of shrapnel.

It feels good.

The guys cheer, and Jimin reaches down to grab a champagne glass, setting it in front of you.

"Now pretend this one is that asshole's balls."

You hesitate, the mention of Jace causing the fist that's been around your heart to squeeze. You're angry with him, sure, fury simmering in your belly even now. But your biggest struggle and the source of all of your pain this week has been wrangling with your lingering feelings. Four years of loving someone are not so easily erased.

But you wish you could wipe it all from your mind.

You wish you could hate him.

"Let it out," Jimin murmurs, as you continue to stare, your hands gripping the bat. "This is the place."

You visualize Jace's face in your mind. His bright green eyes, his crooked smile, the tiny scar on his forehead from when he fell off his bike when he was nine. You can practically hear his voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

And then you see him in bed a week ago, his lips pressed to another woman's neck.

The champagne glass explodes like a small bomb into a million tiny crystals.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jungkook yells, and it’s then that you realize that you were the one who swung the bat.

Your body is a live wire, pumping with adrenaline and a newfound rage. Before you know it, you don’t even have the patience to pick up the objects and place them on the table. Instead, you’re spinning around in a whirlwind, destroying plates and glasses and small kitchen appliances indiscriminately.

“This is for all of the lies about late nights!”

BOOM.

“This is for the fact that I’ve barely been able to breathe this past week!”

CRASH.

“This is for that dumb-ass crooked smile like he thinks he’s the star of some shitty movie!”

WHAM.

“And this is for that stupid, fucking green jacket.”

You channel all of your anger through the bat—every tear, every minute of lost sleep turned into shards of glass and debris. The tears come at some point, but you barely feel them as you scream out your frustrations, Jimin and Jungkook cheering you on the whole time.

It’s not a magical cure-all by any means, but you do feel a tiny bit of relief ease itself into your shoulders.

An hour later, you embrace both men in the parking lot. “Thank you,” you say, “for everything you guys have been doing for me. I needed this.”

Jimin shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Hey, I owed you for that time when I got passed over for promotion, and you brought me to Bar 613 and paid for all my drinks.”

“I just wanted to smash stuff,” Jungkook teases with a grin, but he rubs playfully at your upper back to let you know he’s kidding.

Jimin’s phone chirps with a notification, and he pulls it out of his pocket, squinting at the screen before muttering, “Hmm, Tae’s not ready yet.”

“Ready for what?” you ask, a feeling creeping in that your day of surprise distractions isn’t quite over.

“You’ll see soon enough.” Jimin’s knowing smile twinkles with mischief. “In the meantime, what do you say we get some ice cream?”

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

You’d returned from your rage room and ice cream outing only for Jungkook to swing his car into the “No Parking” zone outside the apartment and promptly kick you out to the curb, a pair of impish smiles flashing at you from the front seats.

“We have strict instructions to stay clear of the apartment for the next several hours,” Jimin chimes. “So we’re going to entertain ourselves for a while.”

You narrow your eyes at them, knowing they’re not going to spill but making a feeble attempt anyway. “What did he do?”

“Go find out!” Jimin says, just as Jungkook shouts, “Bye!” and rolls up the window right in your face.

You enter the building with a sigh, swinging the plastic bag from your wrist that holds the takeout container of rocky road that you’d gotten for Taehyung. A part of you wants to be whiny about your friends making such a fuss for you, working so hard to cheer you up, but at the end of the day, you just feel loved. Tomorrow, you may wake up with a hollow chest, your heart scraped out in the middle of the night as it has been for every day the past week, but for now, you let a little flame of happiness warm your insides.

You do hope, though, that Taehyung didn’t go through too much trouble for whatever he has planned for tonight. He’s already spent a majority of the past week hovering, holding you when you cry, and otherwise keeping a close watch on your moods. And in spite of him trying to be subtle, you’ve noticed how he doesn’t close his bedroom door all the way at night so he can listen for you.

He’s a great friend, the best, but the fact that you care about him, too, means that you don’t necessarily want to burden him, don’t want to be the source of his worry.

It sucks that you’re doing a shit job of it.

Probably just a movie night, you think during the elevator ride up. Like we’d do in college.

But when you slip the key into the lock and slide the door open, your heart immediately leaps into your throat, the bag of ice cream almost slipping from your fingers.

The apartment has been positively upended, furniture rearranged, flipped, stacked, and draped with blankets to create a massive pillow fort in the middle of the living room. It has to be almost eight feet tall, and you wonder what the rest of the rooms look like as you spy all three of the guys’ desk chairs incorporated into the structure—clearly, the entire apartment was raided to create this behemoth. Around the dining room and kitchen, dozens of candles have been placed and lit to give the open space an ambient glow, accentuated by the lowering sun dipping down outside the massive windows.

When the door swings itself to latch shut with a soft click, there’s a rustling sound before Taehyung’s head pops out of the fort, and he beams as he comes to stand in front of you.

“What do you think?” he hums as you continue to stare incredulously at the scene behind him. You try to say something, you should say something, but tears begin to flow over your cheeks instead, causing the room to blur and Taehyung to pull you into a hug. “Okay, I have to admit this is the opposite of what I was going for.”

You press a watery chuckle into his chest. “This is incredible,” you gasp, shifting back to look at him.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says. “And that’s not even all. Come look.”

He guides you to the kitchen, where you now notice the counters are littered with all of your favorite comfort foods alongside the snacks you used to share growing up: sugar cookies and popcorn, potato chips and pretzels, brownies and bite-sized chocolates.

“Just like old times. And—“ He lifts the lid off a pot on the stove, and you’re quickly enveloped in the soothing scent of tomatoes and basil. “Spaghetti for dinner.”

It was the first meal you ever made together. In retrospect, the lumpy, acidic sauce you concocted in your parents’ kitchen that day was far from perfect. But at the time, you’d called it the best meal you’d ever eaten, and Taehyung has spent the subsequent years perfecting his own recipe. He doesn’t make it often, but when he does, it’s the perfect blend of nostalgia and warmth.

“And to think, all I brought you was this,” you say sadly, dangling the bag limply from your hand. But Taehyung snatches it from you in a flash, digging in like it’s a Christmas present. When he pulls out the papery white container, he grins like it’s much more than just half-melted ice cream.

“Rocky road?” he asks, smiling even more widely when you nod. “This is amazing, Y/N. Thank you.”

You study him quietly as he puts the ice cream away in the freezer—just to soak in this beautiful, home-shaped human being—and he raises his eyebrows at you when he turns back around.

“What?” he asks, the corners of his mouth twitching like he’s trying to hide yet another smile.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you glance away. “Nothing.”

But the truth is, standing here in his kitchen, observing his tender movements as he carefully rearranges the snacks on the counter top—it’s the first time in a week that you’ve been able to breathe. And maybe it’s just because it’s been days of suffocating pressure around your chest, but the air pushing through your lungs now feels sweeter, richer as he looks up to capture your gaze again and gently takes your hand in his.

“Come see the inside.”

He pulls you to the mass of furniture and blankets, sweeping back an opening in the fabric to usher you in, and you gasp as he reveals the pillow fort of your childhood dreams.

It’s massive, tall enough for you to stand comfortably in, with wide walls and a tented ceiling that seems to suggest Taehyung has somehow tethered it to the apartment’s actual ceiling. The floor is absolutely packed with pillows, cushions, and heaps of additional blankets, and if you aren’t mistaken, there’s a literal mattress (maybe two?) buried underneath it all.

But the part that has your throat constricting on a sob, tears streaming once again, is the tiny side table he’s placed to the side, your star lamp glowing on top.

“How did—“ you choke, still taking it all in. The fort, the snacks, the lamp. “How did you—?”

“Found the lamp in your closet when we went to get you that bag of clothes.”

“And,” you wave a weak hand at the scene around you, “all of this?”

“Chugged a couple energy drinks,” he chuckles. “And Maya came by for a bit earlier to lend a hand.”

“Tae,” you say, wiping at your cheeks.

“Y/N.”

“This is…” Beautiful. Magical. Extraordinary. No single word seems adequate enough to describe what you’re feeling, his recreation of your childhood tradition to the nth degree tipping you into a state of practical euphoria after the hell of a week you’ve just had. You’d swear you feel like you’re about to combust with the amount of relief that’s flooding through your body in this moment, anger and grief giving way to joy and an overwhelming sense of fondness for the man in front of you.

You never complete your sentence, but Taehyung still seems to grasp your meaning, reaching out to squeeze your fingers one last time in a gesture of acknowledgment and understanding before he simply says, “Let’s eat.”

The two of you gather yourselves heaping bowls of pasta before burrowing into your pillow fortress, backs pressed up against the couch, which is being used to support one side of it.

“How was the rage room?” Taehyung asks, tomato sauce staining his lips.

“Surprisingly cathartic. But…”

“But?”

You rub at your temple before letting your hand fall in a huff. “Temporary. It all is. Every time I think I’m getting a moment to catch my breath, I feel like I’m being punched in the chest a second later.”

“It’s only been a week,” he says. “You’re grieving. It’s going to take time.”

“I don’t want it to though,” you snap, immediately regretting your tone, even though Taehyung looks unfazed. “I just want to turn it off. He did this terrible thing, and I should hate him for it. I want to hate him for it.”

“But you don’t,” Taehyung says, jaw clenching.

Throat swelling, you choke on the words as they find their way out. “I thought I was going to marry him.” The all-too-familiar pressure in your chest rears its head again, suffocating you from the inside. “We had all these plans.” Your breaths turn shallow, coming out in short, rough pants quickly joined by tears that Taehyung rushes to wipe away.

You’ve never known love could hurt like this until now, and for all intents and purposes, Jace was your first real love. You’d had a smattering of boyfriends in high school, but never anything long term until him—nothing that ever made your heart feel like it was going through a shredder, a blender, and a hurricane all at once when it ended. And it’s not just your idea of him or your relationship that you’re mourning, but also the future that you thought you’d have together. The dreams you had dared to dream when you’d traded ideas of rings and children and white picket fences while tangled together in bed.

Sensing an imminent panic attack, Taehyung pulls you into his lap and loops his arms around you, coasting his hands up and down your back in long strokes. He’s done this every time you’ve broken down around him over the past several days, the physical sensation giving you something else to focus on when the thoughts and memories of your now-ex come flooding through the mental barriers you’ve been trying and failing to construct.

You concentrate instead on the ministrations of Taehyung’s hands, the warmth of his large palms resting over your shirt, the glide of his fingers tracing your spine over and over. His fingertips trail up to your neck (inhale) and back down to your sacrum (exhale) on a loop as you clutch the soft fabric of his own shirt. And as the dread looming under your skin begins to ebb away, you notice how your breathing has synced up, pressed chest to chest like you’re two halves of one whole. It’s calming, the light press of his ribcage expanding against yours, and it serves as enough of a distraction to get yourself under control, your feelings stuffed back into their box for the time being.

When you lean back to look at him, his dark brown eyes map your face, steady as ever.

“Better?”

“Better.” You nod weakly. “But life would still be so much easier if love worked like a switch.”

His brow tilts downward a fraction, a touch of melancholy passing over his face. “If only.”

“That makes me an idiot though, right?” you ask. “To still feel for him even after that.”

“No, it makes you human,” Taehyung says, before his expression suddenly turns grave. “Has he contacted you?”

You sniffle, rubbing at your nose. “Nothing besides that one text saying he would clear out of the apartment.”

“Good,” he murmurs. “Listen, I think everything you’re feeling is normal, and you shouldn’t put any pressure on yourself to process it any particular way.” A pink tongue swipes over his bottom lip. “But please, Y/N. Please promise me you’ll never take him back if he asks.”

Truth be told, the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind until now—imagining a teary Jace on your doorstep, begging you to give him just one more chance. In spite of your lingering feelings for him, the image only stirs up a dull rage, disgust burning like acid in your stomach.

“Not a chance,” you say, twining your pinky around his for a brief moment, and he visibly relaxes, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t think I ever want to see him again. But it…it hurts.”

You struggle to pull in a breath that doesn’t want to come, chin dipping down to your chest before Taehyung begins to move. Long fingers reach out to squeeze your hips before nimbly dancing down to your ankles bracketing his legs, where they give you another squeeze. He works his way up your body from there, moving his hands to your knees. Squeeze. Your ribs. Squeeze. Your shoulders. Squeeze. Elbows. Squeeze. Wrists. Squeeze.

He’s pinching each joint of your fingers between the pads of his own when you finally ask, “Tae? What are you doing?”

He doesn’t even look up, zoned in on his task. “Putting you back together.”

“Is that how it works?”

“Yeah, Hobi and Joon have been giving me lessons.”

You snort, and it appears to be the reaction he was hoping for because he beams up at you as you keen forward with laughter until you’re practically sharing breath, faces mere inches apart.

Time freezes; something in the universe shifts.

Your eyes wander over his face, tracing the paths between details that you subconsciously know are there but which you’re not sure you’ve ever truly looked at: the deep brown of his eyes, the mole on the tip of his nose, the plush curve of his lower lip.

He’s beautiful. It’s something you’ve always been aware of—an obvious fact of life in the same way the sky is blue—but you’re also lucky enough to know that his beauty goes beyond a handsome face. It’s also in the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs with his whole body, the way he always carries crackers in his bag for photo shoots at the park so he can toss some to the ducks.

The way he’ll upend his entire apartment to help heal your broken heart.

Artificial stars dance around the fabric walls like fireflies as you become hyperaware of how his hands have drifted back to your hips, barely there but warm. It’s soothing, you think, to be held between the boundaries of his palms, as if nothing and no one can touch you here. But it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? He’s always been your primary source of comfort, your north star at every turn, propping you up within the safety of your own little world like he does now.

His warmth is a siren’s song that has you shifting closer, your hands sliding from his chest to his shoulders, when his grip on your hips suddenly tightens as he breathes out your name.

“Mmm?”

“We have snacks to get to.”

The bubble pops as Taehyung shifts you off his lap, darting away to the kitchen. You, however, stay firmly rooted to your spot in the blanket fort; your mind whirs, an unfamiliar tingling sensation gently working its way through your nerve endings and making your stomach dip. It’s not at all unpleasant, but you don’t know what to make of it, thoughts turning without reaching any kind of foregone conclusion until Taehyung ducks back under the blanket and into your space, arms overflowing with snack bags.

He smiles at you and your stomach dips again.

But your mind quiets.

He’s your person, you think. Undoubtedly now more than ever as he settles back down next to you like the rock he’s always been.

“Story time?” he murmurs, the light passing across his face as he hands you a bag of your favorite chips. You gently place it in your lap without opening it, still jittery from the way he held you only seconds ago. Watching you with hooded eyes, he frowns at your lack of movement, the way your fingers have stilled on the plastic. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, sitting up straighter so he doesn’t feel like you’re ignoring him. “Wouldn’t be a blanket fort without a story, right?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the light on the walls is now radiating from Taehyung himself as he launches into a clearly premeditated narrative about a princess and her devoted, best friend of a knight. After being betrayed by a prince from a neighboring realm, the two embark on an epic journey to restore their own kingdom, traversing mountains and crossing oceans together to retrieve the enchanted crown jewel that the thieving prince had stolen away. Another handsome and charming prince captures the princess’s heart during their adventure, and, once her power is restored, the two marry in the most beautiful and romantic ceremony the kingdom has ever seen.

“And they live happily ever after,” Taehyung says with a flourish. He reaches over to steal a handful of potato chips before slipping a hand behind his head and settling deeper into the mattress. You frown down at him.

“But what about the knight?”

He slides a potato chip between his lips, lifting a dark eyebrow in confusion. “What about him?”

“Where’s his happily ever after?” you ask, almost annoyed on the fictional character’s behalf. “He climbed a mountain and fought a dragon for her. What did the prince do? Just stand there and look hot?”

His expression changes, eyes widening in subtle surprise. “It’s not his story.”

“But—“

“It’s not his story, Y/N.”

He says it with finality, so you drop it, left to grumble internally about what you feel was an unjust ending for the caring and loyal knight.

It was a sweet tale, but you can’t help but think that you would’ve written it differently.

The return to work isn't as bad as you anticipated. Your boss, Jia, noticing your frayed nerves, has been easing you back in slowly with a handful of softball projects just to get you going again. As much as you think you needed that week to cry and wallow, it feels good to get back to some form of normalcy and have work to focus on and keep your mind off of things as much as you can.

The shadows linger though, anxiety grabbing hold of your chest every time you remember you'll be going home to a different apartment that night instead of the one you shared with Jace.

Jimin's been joining you for lunch every day, hanging around outside the office cafeteria before you get there like he's staking you out. You call him out for it on Thursday, and he looks sheepishly down at the table with a nervous chuckle.

"I kinda promised Tae I'd make sure you eat."

"Of course," you sigh. Taehyung's been getting up early every morning to cook both of you breakfast, insisting that it's part of his normal routine.

He forgets that you used to live together, and you know he's more of a granola bar guy in the morning, eager to get himself out the door and moving as soon as possible.

"You're all doing too much for me," you murmur. "You shouldn't have to babysit me like—"

"We don't have to do anything," Jimin says forcefully. "We want to be there for you. We do these things because we care about you."

"I know, but I just…" You swallow hard. "I don't want you all to see me as this broken thing that you need to protect."

Jimin's whole demeanor softens, and he reaches across the table to take your hand. You'd be worried about how this looks—two coworkers holding hands at lunch—if you didn't feel the tears welling up again, the urge to cry sticking itself in your throat like molasses as you try to choke it down.

"Y/N, that's not what we think," he says softly. "You're our friend. And you're hurting. And after the trauma you went through, it's perfectly understandable for you to need a little more attention and care than usual. Honestly, if anything, I'm worried that you seem to be taking things better than expected, and I think that's because you're trying to put a brave face on for us sometimes."

He’s not off-base. Especially after your Distraction Day, you've been doing your best these past few days to bottle everything down so your friends don't worry as much, taking your time to cry in the shower or quietly at night when everyone else is asleep.

"All I'm saying is that you can lean on us. That's what we're here for. And if your tough face can't fool me, you're definitely not fooling Tae. Let him help before he goes crazy with worry.”

Honestly, relying on Tae has been the least of your problems, even though you’re a little concerned about how he’s been waking up earlier than usual for you. That man has been your rock for years, and receiving comfort from him is almost second-nature at this point. It’s how the two of you operate. Everyone else, however…

“I’m fine with Tae,” you tell him. “But I’ve never felt this…vulnerable around the rest of you. It used to just be Tae and I, hiding away from our problems in my room, and now—“

“You have us!” He beams. “That’s a beautiful thing, Y/N, can’t you see? You’re not alone anymore. Not you, not Tae. You have us. All of us. We’re going to get you through this. And if you need a silver lining, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen Jungkook and Maya this united against a common enemy before. I could’ve sworn I heard them the other night trying to figure out the best way to slash Jace’s tires without getting caught.”

“Don’t make me cry at work,” you say, blinking furiously to try and clear the sudden moisture from your eyes. “I think Jia is already prepared to send me home if I don’t stop sounding like I’m learning how to breathe for the first time.”

He laughs gently, giving your hand a squeeze before relinquishing it. “It’s going to get better, Y/N. I know I just called you our friend, but really, we’re family.”

The summer presses on in a haze as you focus on just getting through one day, one step at a time: get out of bed, go to work, come home, shower, try to get a few hours of fitful sleep, eat somewhere in between all of that. And before you know it, an entire month has passed.

Taehyung continues to make you breakfast every morning and insists on taking you to your favorite ramen place at least twice a week for dinner, watching you with concerned eyes from across the table. You’d give him shit for it if his worry didn’t feel so justified. If he wasn’t so persistent in making sure your base needs were being met, you’re not entirely sure you can say you wouldn’t be starving yourself in grief. And you know it makes him feel better to see you eating—how happy it makes him to care for others—so you don’t resist when he pushes an extra pancake onto your plate or orders you a second helping of noodles to go.

It’s one of your scheduled ramen nights when you get back from work a little later, a particularly emotional day preventing you from getting your tasks done on time. You drop your bag in the living room with a sigh, thankful that no one is around to ask you how your day was—you’re really not in the mood. Taehyung had sent you a text letting you know that he wanted to take a shower before you head out, needing one after a long day of photographing clients in the baking July heat. You can hear water running in the bathroom, so you assume he must still be in there.

The living room makes you feel vulnerable with its vaulted ceiling and tall windows, like you’re laid bare for the whole world to see. Because of this, you decide to wait for Taehyung in his bedroom, hopeful that you might be able to find some reprieve in his tucked-away space.

You’ve been in Taehyung’s room before, of course, but you’re not sure that you’ve ever taken the time to really peruse. Unlike Jace, Taehyung’s space is neatly organized, and you’re first drawn to the large bookcase that dominates the wall adjacent to the door. He’s stuffed it full of art anthologies: Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, and Pollock giving way to old photography textbooks on the bottom shelves. About halfway down, you spot the bound collection of his own work that you’d had made for him as a college graduation gift (you got one for yourself too, and he’d blushed beautifully when you asked him to sign it).

Across the room, his bed is carefully made, dark bedding tucked cleanly under the mattress. In place of a nightstand and opposite the dresser, he’s set up a series of box shelves for his photography equipment—you spot lenses and tripods placed alongside gadgets you would have no idea how to use. His desk sits to the left, an impressive PC setup backed by a large cork-board brimming with post-it notes, business cards, and a photograph that has you stopping in your tracks.

The first photograph Taehyung ever took.

It’d been the spring right after you both turned sixteen, and Taehyung had finally saved up enough money from his newspaper job to buy his first camera at the secondhand shop. You’d gone along, bouncing up and down with excitement for him so vigorously that the shopkeeper kept giving you strange looks over the counter.

New toy in hand, Taehyung pulled you to the park, where the cherry blossoms were in full bloom—clusters of pastel pink contrasting wonderfully against the bright blue sky. You bought yourselves some kkwabaegi at a nearby food stall as Taehyung sat on a bench figuring out how to operate the camera. Distracted by the numerous dials and buttons, he didn’t even realize you had returned until you dusted his cheek with a bit of cinnamon sugar, teasing that his cheeks were just as fluffy as the donut you subsequently handed him with a smile.

Snacks finished, you strolled along the petal covered path, chatting about everything and nothing as Taehyung continued to fiddle with the controls.

“Are you going to be able to figure it out?” you asked, skipping ahead to pluck a wildflower out of the grass after several minutes had passed without him taking a single photo.

“Actually, I think I’ve just got it.”

“Really?” you said, turning around to face him and freezing at the sound of a click and the sight of the camera held at the ready in front of his face. His grin was full of mischief as he dropped his arms at your stunned look, and you rushed back to his side to give him a joking shove. “I wasn’t ready, you jerk. I’m going to look like an idiot.”

But Taehyung was still smiling widely, already striding down the path to line up his next shot. “Don’t worry. You looked perfect.”

You’d forgotten about the photograph after that day, as Taehyung never actually showed it to you. You figured that it probably didn’t turn out right, a blurry candid, and was scrapped. Now, looking at it, it’s not his best work, but it’s not nearly as bad as you’d pictured in the moment.

It’s you, backdropped by the pink of the blossoms, with delicate petals dancing around your form. Your eyes are bright and eager as you turn to face him, the corners of your lips upturned in the beginnings of a smile and the small purple flower raised halfway to your chest.

In spite of the struggles you know you were dealing with at home, you look content. Happy.

“Oh, you’re home.”

You jump, spinning around to face where Taehyung suddenly stands just inside the doorway, and you feel something flip low in your belly.

It’s not that you’ve never seen him shirtless—years of going to the beach house together have taken care of that—but here, in the low, intimate light of his bedroom, the sight of his mostly naked body strikes you in a way that it never has before. The veins in his arms and hands pop from the heat of the shower, skin tanned by his time spent outdoors. His dark hair is still wet and, as if on cue, a drop of water falls off the end of a ringlet, your eyes following as it rolls over sharp collarbones, down a toned chest and smooth stomach, and into the towel sitting low on his hips.

Taehyung clears his throat, and one look at his flushed face tells you that your perusal of his torso hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Why are you even looking?

“I—uh—sorry,” you mumble, snapping out of your trance also flustered, words spilling out in a jumble of unexpected nerves. “I had a rough day and just felt so exposed in the living room, and if Jimin or Kook showed up and asked me how I was, I was going to lose it so I came in here as a distraction, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop or anything—“

“Y/N, hey.” He crosses the room to where you stand, smiling gently down at you. “I don’t mind.”

You swallow, still looking for something to distract from the fact that you were very obviously just checking him out. “You still have this?” You point at the photo of yourself, and he looks at it, expression overcome with sentimentality.

“Yeah.”

“A reminder of how far you’ve come with your work?”

He turns his eyes back to yours, slow and warm as they settle on you. “A reminder of a perfect day,” he says, voice low, before creases form at his brow. “But your day wasn’t so good?”

Your gaze drops to the floor, and you suck your lips between your teeth in a gesture that is answer enough for him.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He doesn’t push; never pushes. If you told him no, you know that’d be the end of it, and he’d spend the rest of your night together coming up with different threads of conversation to divert your attention. And perhaps it’s this awareness—his consistent and mindful respect of your boundaries—that makes you so willing to open up.

“I just can’t stop asking myself if I missed signs. If I could’ve done something different. Something better.”

“Y/N—“

“We were together four years, Tae. Four fucking years.” You pull in a breath, fighting off the stinging of tears in your eyes. “And in the end, I meant next to nothing to him.”

It’s the part you’ve been struggling with the most, how you gave him years of your life—nearly half of your twenties—and let him dig his fingers into your heart only to pull it apart like clay.

Revealed bits of yourself to him that you’ve only ever showed one other person.

That man stands in front of you now, gently scrutinizing your face as he considers your words. His hands drift your way as if of their own accord, hovering into your space without ever truly touching.

“Would you want to though?” he finally asks.

“What?”

“If you could’ve done something differently. Knowing what you know now.” A pink tongue darts out to lick his lips. “Would you?”

It’s a fair question, and you know what the right answer is supposed to be. You’re supposed to say that no, that son of a bitch can burn in hell for what he did. He’s trash, you can do better—all of the empty platitudes that are supposed to be expressed when a betrayal like this takes place.

But his actions don’t erase the years you spent together. Don’t mean that what you yourself felt wasn’t real.

And you loved him. You really did.

“I don’t know.”

Taehyung doesn’t exactly seem thrilled by that but nods nonetheless, his fingers wandering back to his sides to fidget with the edges of his towel. “You must know that none of it was your fault, though.”

“But if it was?” you question. “If I could’ve been a better girlfriend, a better partner—“

“It still wouldn’t have justified what he did.” There’s an edge to his voice now, a hint of anger. “Don’t you dare let that asshole make you feel like you deserved it.”

“But—“

“No. No buts,” he says roughly, hands shooting up to grip you around the elbows. “What he did is inexcusable. There’s no making sense of it, and there’s no one to blame but him.”

You know in your heart that what he says is true, but your newfound insecurities have had you questioning your sense of self—that maybe you had a part to play in what happened. A relationship is two people after all, maybe he wouldn’t have cheated if you had—

“You did nothing wrong,” Taehyung continues, reading your mind. “He made an active choice to sleep with someone else. If he had an issue with your relationship, he had a hundred other ways to approach it. He chose to do what he did.” His hands slide up to your shoulders, appraising. “You are kind and thoughtful. Fiercely loyal. Always want what’s best for those around you. You still get breathless for the first snowfall each winter and make the most delicious triple chocolate cake.” Fingers give you a gentle squeeze. “And you never take shit from anyone. Especially people who don’t give you the respect you deserve.”

His words are a balm sinking deep into your skin, but his voice sets something alight in your core, your veins thrumming at the spots where he holds you.

What in the world is this?

“Don’t let him convince you you’re anything less than the incredible person you are,” Taehyung continues, oblivious to your perplexed state. “And if he couldn’t value that, someone else will. Lots of other fish in the sea.”

He holds your stare, gaze boring into you like he can telepathically eliminate every doubt and insecurity rattling around your skull, and a stray voice at the back of your mind thinks that whichever woman eventually gets to wake up to those eyes every morning is going to be so damn lucky.

He frowns, licking his lips again as he finally notices that you’re not altogether with him. “Are you okay?”

Y/N, what the hell?

You give yourself a little shake, playing back what he just said. “I don’t know about that.”

“You’re not okay?”

“No,” you say, taking a step back so you can loosen his grip and clear your head. “About the whole fish thing. I kind of get it now.”

He’s clearly not following. “Get what?”

“Your break from dating,” you say. “Why you wanted to stop for a while.”

He raises a long finger to rub at his bottom lip. “That’s…not quite the same.”

“Why not?”

“There were…” He tilts his head as he considers his word choice, and another drop of water slides down his chest. “Underlying circumstances.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s a story for another time when you’re not trying to deflect by turning this around on me.”

“I’m not deflecting,” you argue. “I’m just saying I understand where you’re coming from now. Dating sucks. People suck.”

He chews at the inside of his lip, studying you. “That wasn’t my intention when I told you that.”

“Yeah, well when you told me that, we didn’t know that my boyfriend was fucking another woman,” you scoff.

He sighs at your crude reminder. “There is a third option, you know.”

“What’s that?”

“Just let yourself be,” he says. “You don’t need to rush into anything either way. If something happens, it happens. If not, then no pressure to look for it. But maybe don’t close yourself off from opportunities entirely just because one bastard made a terrible decision.”

“Tae,” you begin with an exhausted, rattling breath. But he cuts you off, already anticipating your protest.

“I just know you, and I know you’ve always believed in love. Dreamed of finding ‘the one’ and settling down.” He wrinkles his nose. “Made that whole wedding mood board after Haneul kissed you for the first time when we were fifteen.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, you helped me cut out the pictures.”

“I did.”

You look at each other for an instant, twin smiles reflected on your faces before yours falls. “I just don’t know.”

“And that’s fine,” he says kindly, gently. “It’s okay to need time, and it’s okay to want to step away from dating for a while. It would just be awful if he ruined that part of you, you know?” His voice lowers even further. “It’s a wonderful part of you.”

You feel warm all over, like the comfiest, fluffiest blanket has been draped around your shoulders.

Honestly, what would you even do without this man?

“You’re a great guy, Tae. Do you know that?”

He blushes, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and a tingle runs down your spine before he finally looks away.

“We should get going,” he tells you. “Namjoon and Hobi said they’d meet us.”

You dip your head, the moment gone. “Okay, but I’d recommend putting on some pants first.”

His face turns a deeper shade of red.

“Over here!”

Hoseok waves you down from a table at the back of the restaurant, pulling you in for a hug once you get there, just as he has every time he’s seen you since the incident with Jace. You’re then passed along to Namjoon, who embraces you with almost bone-crushing pressure.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, swaying you side-to-side. You just nod into his chest, giving him a tight squeeze before he releases you so you can slide into the seat next to Taehyung.

Aside from the hugs and the fact that the entire dinner is a ploy by Taehyung to get you to eat, the night feels relatively normal, and you’re grateful for it. Hoseok and Namjoon dramatically complain about the perils of medical school, regaling the two of you with stories about catastrophic anatomy labs and exam mishaps to your and Taehyung’s delight. The first blip comes when Hoseok absent-mindedly mentions an all-nighter of studying for boards while simultaneously working on seating arrangements before he immediately cuts himself off, throwing you a remorseful look.

“It’s fine, Hobi,” you say. “The world doesn’t just stop because my relationship did. And I’m still excited for you and Sunny.”

He nods but still looks apologetic, causing Namjoon to hop in with a change of subject. “Oh, by the way, I have my roommate situation settled.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, I’m moving in with my friend Yoongi at the end of the summer.”

“Your childhood friend?” Taehyung asks.

“That’s the one,” Namjoon confirms with a nod. “We’re planning on having a little housewarming party once we’re settled if you’ll be up for it.”

“Sounds fun,” you say. “And I’d like to meet him.”

“He’s a great guy. Musician. He’s moving into the city for work.”

“Well if you vouch for him, I’m sure he’s wonderful.”

You don’t notice it, but Namjoon gets a glint in his eye. Sipping on his water, he glances between you and Taehyung before saying, “Speaking of great guys, I’d also like to introduce you to someone.”

Taehyung stills beside you; you freeze in equally stunned silence.

Hoseok’s eyes nervously dart to Taehyung then you as he says, “Ah, Namjoon, I don’t think—“

“If you’re up for it, of course.” Namjoon looks only at you, his tone casual as if he doesn’t notice the sudden tension. “He also just got out of a long-term relationship and is kind of a mess about it. I’m thinking it might do both of you good to get back out there in a low pressure situation, especially with someone who understands.”

“I…” You don’t know what to say. You’d meant what you said to Taehyung about taking a break from dating, but you also trust Namjoon. He wouldn’t set you up with a creep, and maybe he does have a point about a low pressure date to at least take that first step.

But isn’t it too soon? You and Jace were together for years, and it’s only been a little over a month. Are you supposed to take more time? Or should you just get that first date over with? It hits you suddenly that you don’t even know how to meet people now that you’re out of school. How do capital-A Adults even find dates? Maybe it would be better to meet up with someone that’s already been vetted by one of your friends instead of some random on a dating app.

Namjoon speaks up again as your mind spins. “It’s entirely up to you. I can give you his number, and if you decide to reach out, great. If not, no harm, no foul.”

Still undecided, you turn for a second opinion. “Tae, what do you think?”

But he’s staring intently at Namjoon, expression indecipherable. Namjoon finally shifts his attention from you to engage in an intense staring contest with Taehyung across the table, the two of them clearly having some kind of silent conversation while Hoseok looks on in obvious discomfort.

You’re sitting there—just trying to figure out what the hell is going on—when Taehyung abruptly faces you, slipping a hand over your knee.

“I think you should go for it.”

His eyes are sincere, his hand hot where it rests on your skin.

“Other fish in the sea, right?”

You blink at him. Well, that’s that then. If there’s anything in the world you have complete faith in, it’s that Taehyung would never lead you astray.

Turning back to Namjoon, you shift so Taehyung’s fingers fall away. “What’s his name?”

Namjoon smiles.

“Seokjin.”

NEXT

a/n: the next two parts are my favorite, and part 4 is already around 85% written so i'll be looking to get that out asap! in the meantime, please consider leaving a like, reblog, or feedback!

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

[minjiarchive]

“until you can't anymore” | sua x fem!reader

more more bora! @belongtodeukae

warning / smut, light degradation, restraints, forced orgasm (vibrator, punishment blah blah)

“You look so pathetic right now.”

Ridiculous even.

Bora thinks she's good at keeping her relationship steady, always at your service, and willing to try new things she's never experienced before. It's all very welcoming to her. Some kinks or punishments do bother her and aren't very suiting for Bora.

But one thing that's always stuck with her since the first time you tried it is leaving you tied up and at her will to do whatever she pleases.

She punishes you without trying because all you can and would do is take and take – even if it comes down to force it out of you.

“A vibrator on your dripping cunt and all because you didn't want to listen...” Bora whispers, circling the toy lazily against your clit that's slicked in arousal.

Bora is trying to make this a lesson to learn but she doesn't have to try much.

She could've been stern and tell you to, 'fix your attitude before I fix it for you' and you'd listen right away, but it's not all fun when you aren't spread out, used for her.

“I'm disappointed in what you did.”

Oh, she's very disappointed in you.

She loves to exaggerate, make excuses to have you end up like this, call her a sadist for it even. In her mind though, you look so cute like this.

A red silky rope tied messily around your wrists, her free hand pushing your thigh open, and her dominant hand occupied by the wand she presses to your clit.

Bora smiles as she looks down your pretty frame, “do you know why you're tied up like this?”

“B-Because I decided to not listen,” you stutter, feeling another orgasm come in waves, “and touched you like I'm the one in control.”

“See, you are such a smart girl.”

She leans in and presses her knee to your sensitive cunt, adding pressure to the vibrator against you. You cry even louder, red splotches forming on your cheeks as more tears fall. Your efforts to keep yourself quiet are gone because you want Bora proud of you, rewarding you another time for being good when your body isn't so numb right now.

Bora runs her tongue along your breasts, taking one nipple in while her thumb lightly strokes across the other one. Every part of your body tastes so good to her and she can't help but let out a groan herself.

With a busy Bora marking up your chest, you start to crash down weaker, “I'm getting so close... please, baby.”

Your body trembles and your legs start to close around the toy but she stops you, her nails denting in your thigh as a warning. You tug around the silky rope, hips slowly jerking up toward her, but it doesn't sit with Bora. She lets go of your nipple, a string of saliva clinging to her lips.

“You're close? So?”

You try to push away from the sensation but she taps the vibrator against your swollen clit, choking out a whine. Your body can't take it anymore but you still push your cunt against her, contradicting every thought you had of wanting to stop.

“I can't hold it any longer,” you cry out.

“Cum for me and watch what will happen if you do,” Bora threatens and she's serious. She's aware that she's been holding a vibrator to your clit for the past hour, pulling as many orgasms as she can, it's the entire purpose of this. She makes you hold out your climax until you're nothing but begging and desperate to cum.

She knows you won't be able to last longer but it's so fun to push you to your limits – even pushing you further for something you can't control.

“Come on, you don't want to be a bad girl for me, do you?”

Bora dares to slip her two fingers inside, your walls have never pulsed harder in your life. Your head hits the headboard as you try to create as much distance away from the toy.

You attempt to speak through your own gags, “I can't, Bora plea-”

“For me?” She says, her fingers slipping out as she sucks down on them, “until you can't anymore.”

#ofc i try not to make reader talk a lot here #bc being overstimulated multiple times?? #what can you say except for fuck bora please #am i wrong? #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher x reader #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher #sua scenarios #sua imagines #sua x reader #sua smut #wlw #wlw smut #kpop smut

[boringa55binch]

you followed me back, i'm honored 😭 may i ask, what was vanessa's first reaction when she saw ggy? or freddy's reaction when he saw them both?

dude i'm honored you followed me in the first place egjodk Also, I haven’t written anything in ages, but your question seems like the perfect chance to write something :)

RETURN

There was no sound coming from Gregory’s room.

Vanessa stood outside, dinner in one hand and the other raised to knock. Except she couldn’t because there was something… something wrong. Just earlier, she’d been helping Gregory direct his friend through the ruined Pizzaplex. He’d been near hysterical, fearing for her life while instructing her over the walkie.

Freddy was helping them too—his knowledge of the Plex’ interior still came in handy, all these months later. She pressed her ear more firmly against the door, listening for any noise. A second passed, then two, then three. Nothing.

The absence of their voices was unsettling.

Vanessa tried to ignore the twist in her gut, the unease that crawled down her spine and left goosebumps in its wake. Her knuckles rested on the wooden surface of the door, shaking despite her efforts to keep it steady. She tried to take a breath, to steel herself—it was a fruitless endeavor.

The air was thick with tension, so much so that she felt like she was suffocating. There was something in the silence that coiled in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. Calm down. Vanessa didn’t want to think anything went wrong in the few minutes she’d stepped out to make dinner, but after everything they’d gone through, she couldn’t help but imagine the worst case scenario.

What are you so afraid of?

She knew exactly what she was afraid of. The image of purple eyes staring back at her was burned into her memory, keeping her up at night and haunting her dreams. She remembered countless sleepless nights, reassuring Gregory that she’d never let that virus hurt them again. Promising him that it was over, that they were free and they were going to be okay.

It had to be over. She can’t—she can’t let Gregory go through that again. And… she doubts she’d survive that hellish experience a second time. Maybe I’m being paranoid. It’s not like it’d be the first time. With that thought, she forced a shaky sigh through her mouth.

What are you so afraid of?

Nothing. It was nothing. Her tongue felt numb and her throat tight, but she squeezed the words out anyway. “Gregory? You okay in there?” she asked. It came out haltingly, her nerves bleeding into her voice. A few, painstakingly long seconds passed where nobody responded.

“Yeah! Cassie made it out!”

The sound of Gregory’s voice flooded Vanessa with relief. She finally let herself breathe, the tension lifting from her shoulders. “I’m coming in! I brought dinner. Hope you don’t mind ramen—I wanted to make something quick so I could get back to you,” she said. She twisted the doorknob and stepped through the threshold of Gregory’s room.

What were you so afraid of?

He sat by his desk, legs swinging in a carefree manner she didn’t expect from someone who was itching to go to Plex himself half an hour ago. Then again, it could just indicate how happy he was that his friend was safe. “Oh, Freddy’s battery got low while we were talking, mind taking him to his charging station?” Gregory asked. He’d already gathered Freddy in his arms, passing him over to Vanessa.

She set down the bowl of ramen on the desk, taking Freddy from Gregory with a smile. “What am I, your errand girl?” she teased, pulling a giggle from the young boy.

“Sorry. I just need to make sure Cassie’s really all right,” he said. Vanessa nodded, already making her way to the door. She was a step away from the doorway when she glanced down at Freddy, a thought pausing her in her tracks.

“…Wasn’t he just fully charged a couple hours ago?”

As soon as the words left her, it was as if the air itself had gone still. The dread that cooled to a simmer in her moments before came to a boil, her arms growing heavy as she stared down at Freddy. Only then did she notice his face—she’d seen Freddy on low power, and this dull, wide-eyed expression was not it. No, this looked more like a forced shutdown.

Just as it seemed like her world was submerged underwater, and she was drowning, drowning, drowning—pain exploded in the back of her head, sending her toppling down to the floor. She groaned, barely registering that she’d dropped Freddy. Her arm stretched out towards him when a second burst of pain forced her to curl into herself, cradling her head. Her vision swam, but as she looked up at her assailant, a new kind of pain overtook her.

Purple eyes.

It’s exactly what she was afraid of.

“No,” she croaked, whimpering as those eyes drew closer to her face. Without realizing it, she’d started to scramble backwards—at least, she tried to. The sharp pain blooming in her skull made it difficult to focus, and yet, she couldn’t look at anything other than those purple eyes.

“I hit you pretty hard there, huh? You’ll probably get a concussion, but nothing too serious!… I hope. I still have to take you back to the boss. Ohh, you look like you’re gonna pass out any second now…”

His voice—Gregory’s voice—faded away, the ringing in her ears overtaking every other sound. Still, just before her eyes rolled up into her skull, she managed to pour all her grief, her pain, her despair, into two whispered words;

“I’m sorry.”

#navtrash #fnaf #fnaf sb #vanessa fnaf #ggy fnaf #gregory fnaf #glamrock freddy #3 star fam #asks #txt

[misseviehyde]

BETTER ME, THAN YOU

"Well I can't believe you tracked me down. It's been such a long time since we last spoke. Please sit down and enjoy the drink my butler prepared.

Ohhh, it's too bad you got so sick just before we were ready to test the Elixir. I know it was your dream to try it - but we couldn't afford to let the delicate solution deteriorate whilst we waited for you to recover. I simply had no choice but to try it myself.

Now, I unfortunately have to have a regular supply of the Elixir in order to maintain my new body and there's just not enough for both of us I'm afraid. I already hid all of the equipment and destroyed all the remaining notes along with your grandfathers journal before leaving town. It would take you decades to piece together even the smallest bit of our research, you really are wasting your time.

Look - it isn't just a simple matter of maintaining my physical form. Everyone thinks my male alter-ego is dead and I moved to this town for good reason. I have no intention of ever turning back into that loser.

Since arriving here I've insinuated myself into the richest family in town. I read about their young daughter being kidnapped all those years ago, and knew that if I turned up and pretended to be her after all these years, I could easily replace her. I am Olivia Hyde now .

Frankly - Mrs Hyde was desperarate to believe I was her long lost daughter and any irregularities in the way I behave and act have been overlooked due to my trauma. I of course have no memory of my kidnapping all those years ago.

Awww you think I'm a bad person for impersonating a dead girl? She's probably long gone and these fools would never have found her. Better that I should have all the money and power that would have been hers. Better that it is in my hands and I be the spoiled rich girl I always should have been.

My troubled past gave me an excuse for knowing so little about makeup, hair, girls clothing. But I was a fast learner and with an unlimited supply of money I quickly spoiled myself rotten. I know it all now loser. I know how to dress like a tease and make boys do what I want. I know how to bully and manipulate people. They all think I'm so innocent but I'm the biggest bitch you'll ever meet.

That's right - I'm a spoiled evil slut just like I deserve to be. Assuming Olivia's identity is hardly the worst thing I've done. I'm a bad bad girl and bad things happen to people who get in my way.

Don't you get it simp? The Elixir made me into a fucking Goddess and the more I drink, the more perfect it makes me every day. I'm smarter, stronger and more powerful than any human deserves to be.

So what if the Elixir numbs some emotions? Who needs pity and remorse when you have a tight pussy and can suck big cock when you want? Who needs love when you can have power, money and sex.

You have no idea how good my body feels loser. Soft perfect skin, firm boobs, silky hair. I love how ultra-feminine I am. I love that I can manipulate and control anyone.

The truth is - I wanted this power all those years ago, so I took it from you. I put laxatives in your food - I ensured that it would be me to drink the Elixir not you. I remember how hard I jerked my cock thinking of taking the power from you.

But if I thought jerking off felt good - I never orgasmed so hard as that first time I transformed and became Olivia. As I felt my nails lengthen and my face change I knew that I was finally becoming the person I always should have been. As I grabbed my ass and felt my tits swell up - I knew I would do ANYTHING to keep this body.

Ohhh whoops - did you drop your drink? Are you feeling okay? You look kinda woozy.

Shhhhhh. Don't fight it.

Did you really think I'd just let you waltz in here and take all this away from me. Haha - didn't you learn anything all those years ago.

I spiked your drink again - only this time it isn't laxatives. It's just a little something to help you sleep.

Shhhhhh it will all be over soon. I'll go on living this deliciously evil life and you'll finally be at peace.

You could have had all this - but now it's mine to enjoy. I won't even think of you at all after today - but it will be satisying to know that chapter of my life is over.

Yessss, close your eyes and just... sleep.

Don't feel cheated. Before you go, you just have to accept this was always my destiny.

Better me than you...

#evie hyde #Evil bitch #Dark #tg elixir #twisted #m2f corruption

[starguardianniom]

The Paris Special and Cataclysm

So the special happened right after Destruction ended, so right after Monarch deliberately made Chat Noir use Cataclysm on him so Ladybug could not longer have any leverage on him and escape with the Lucky Charm, dooming himself.

A bit later the same night Claw Noir, while fighting Chat Noir, Cataclysm himself and doesn't seem bothered after letting out a scream. Or the physical pain doesn't even reach the level of emotional pain he feels during that time, who knows.

So Chat Noir has his own father and an evil alternate version of himself who literally had him hurt themselves and he's horrified.

They are willing to hurt each other if it means they can win in the long run, showing their goals have past reached their own wellbeing. It just shows how unhealthy they are mentally and how it poisons their minds.

Cataclysm here seems to be the symbolism of their destructive grief and negative emotions, they let it consume and hurt themselves rather than trying to heal and move on. And grief can literally kill you, dying of a broken heart is a real thing, and I feel that in the special it showed us the 2 possible outcomes of it.

Negative emotions can lead you to spiral that can end with you also destroying yourself emotionally and physically, though I don't feel like I need to go into details, I feel the special kind of showed some ideas well enough.

In the first one outcome, which would be Gabriel since he got Cataclysmed first before Betterfly, Shadybug and Claw Noir showed up, Gabriel never let go of his grief and negative emotions, doesn't want to move on from Émilie and wants to bring her back no matter what, that's the outcome of letting grief and negative emotions consume you entirely.

The second outcome is Claw Noir not minding to get Cataclysmed himself and keeps using his power all the time, but in the end after a talk with Adrien, he choose to let it go and finally start to heal rather than stewing in his bitterness, sadness and loneliness and the all consuming, numbing pain of grief and all the dark emotions that comes with it. Of course he still has work ahead of himself, but he did the first most important step, and it was to accept that his mother was gone and would have prefered him to be happy rather than being miserable and mourning her loss for the rest of his life, and sure you can keep mourning your loved ones, but it doesn't mean that you can't learn to live with it and move on and be happy yourself, they still stay with you in your heart, and they would want you to live a long and happy life even if they're aren't around anymore.

I think this is why in the end (apart from the other reason of plot device since we still had the rest of season 5 to go through) Claw Noir got healed from his Cataclysm wound by Shadybug's Miraculous Cure, whereas Monach wasn't, because Claw Noir was ready to let go of his grief, Monarch wasn't, so Claw Noir got healed cause he wanted to stop hurting over his mother's disappearance after a talk with his alternate self who completely understood his feelings and situation and told him his own experience and offered advice that helped him be in a much better mental state that he was, but Monarch didn't want to give up on Émilie after getting most of the miraculouses after he feels so close after all this time so he wasn't healed because he couldn't let go, as he is obsessed over Émilie and his goal.

Which brings to their fate, Claw Noir lives, while Monarch at the end of season 5, dies, well choose to die and join Émilie and fix Nathalie rather than facing the consequences of his actions more would be it, getting what he wanted and also not entirely, given he was supposed to bring Émilie back and sacrifice someone else so that they could be a happy family again, but instead he chose to orphanate Adrien and be with Émilie and have Nathalie guard Adrien at the last second, he's still a horrible excuse of a parent and while I'm beyond pissed at this ending I'm also beyond done watching him do anymore crap for the following seasons.

So in the Paris Special there was the lowkey message of either you let your grief and negative emotions destroy you or you choose to accept them and start moving on to heal, and it was symbolised by Cataclysm.

It doesn't mean you aren't allowed to feel grief or negative emotions, you can't be happy 24/7 for your entire life, but letting them out in a healthy way instead of stewing in them without letting them go is what I feel the Special was about.

Thoughts?

Feel free to add your own piece of interpretation to it too.

#adrien agreste #miraculous ladybug #mlb #claw noir #monarch #gabriel agreste #emodrien #ml paris special spoilers #ml paris special #ml paris spoilers #chat noir #cat noir #ml chat noir #ml cat noir #cataclysm #that's how i felt the message was about #not sure if anyone else thought it like that #ml analysis #ml salt #a bit #i needed to rant #gabriel agreste salt #gabriel salt #shadybug and claw noir #ml season 5 spoilers #ml s5 leaks #ml s5 spoilers #ml leaks #meta #my meta

[toomuchracket]

lol feeling a bit angsty today, thinking about matty and taylor and the timeline of things lol. but Jamie was at the concert tonight with matty and maybe he travelled with our beloved dh assistant. And matty and taylor are together now and assistant had to be professional and maybe she’s dazzling the room with her professionalism and her charisma, but maybe she has a full blown panic attack about it all when she has a moment to think about the whole thing, maybe needs some air and maybe matty finds her having her moment and doesn’t know what to do

OH this inspired me to do a fic, rather than a blurb. beware of angst (but it's an AU and i am not doing a part 2 lol everything is actually nice in d word matty-land. also for a partial explanation of dh assistant being there, it's bea opening alongside phoebe and you're there for vaguely manager-y stuff. and matty plays during bea's set but not for pheebs lol. it'll make sense in-fic!)

gone four weeks

the irony of walking into the stadium while taylor is soundchecking 'midnight rain' isn't lost on you.

following jamie towards the small group of people gathered at the front of the stage, you try not to focus on the lyrics, or the familiar mess of curls moving side to side in time to the music ahead of you, or the melancholy blooming in your skin at the whole situation.

you should be excited. ecstatic. elated, for fuck's sake. you're seeing one of your label's artists - and a fairly good friend of yours to boot - support taylor swift, an artist you've enjoyed and admired since you were an actual kid. instead, you're feeling worse with every passing step, bile and tears threatening to spill out of various facial orifices as you get close enough to hear matty singing along quietly and say something to bea.

it's only been four weeks since you last heard him, but the inflections of matty's voice seem completely unfamiliar to you. they say that the voice is the first memory you lose of someone after a death - apparently, this also applies to the death of a relationship. that, or he's let his accent be influenced by his new girlfriend, aka the beautiful, capable woman singing onstage right now.

bea glances over her shoulder and grins at the sight of you and jamie, walking to meet you and opening her arms out to hug you both in turn. your boss moves on to hug matty too, but you stay put, bea's arm over your shoulder; matty makes no effort to near you, either, staying a good few paces away from you. whether he's trying to avoid overstepping any boundaries or preparing for a duel with you, you can't decide. the former, probably, from the way he nods politely at you and asks "you alright? the flight was ok, i take it?"; you smile emotionlessly back at him - an easy feat, considering your body has gone numb from the sheer agony of seeing him again - and answer affirmatively to both. matty nods again, and gets a look on his face that you instantly recognise as "i have something i want to say to you", but he's interrupted by taylor's arrival on the stadium floor before he can.

despite yourself, and the awkward situation you're all in, you can't help but be awed by her - tall and graceful and even prettier in person, that famously-red-lipstick-lined smile so dazzling and contagious that you begin to genuinely smile too in response. you keep it up even when she hugs matty and he kisses her head sweetly, despite your want to scream at the fact that his lips are on her and not you. but you keep calm, keep smiling, no matter how sore or fake it feels, and remind yourself that it's partially your own fault he isn't kissing you any more.

the smile becomes genuine again when taylor comes over to you and introduces herself, sweeping you into a big hug accompanied by a "so amazing to finally meet you! i'm a big fan of your work in keeping the label running", the latter sentence followed by a wry smile.

"you're a big... what?" you splutter, pulling away. "i don't even do much!"

"oh, please," taylor sighs. "everyone - jamie included, by the way - says you're the mastermind behind everything. i think we have that in common."

out of the corner of your eye, you see matty wince at taylor likening the two of you. good, you think. let him be uncomfortable. "well, you are the reason i got into music," you say, smiling. "i picked up a guitar for the first time after hearing 'fearless'. i mean, i did put it back down when i realised i was kinda shit and my interest in music would be better served elsewhere, but still. thank you for that."

"that's so cool!" taylor squeals, pulling you into another hug. after it ends, she turns to matty with an accusatory look. "i can't believe you wouldn't tell me this! i thought you said she was your best friend."

ouch. you sink your teeth into the back of your bottom lip as you shift your gaze to matty, attempting to keep your face expressionless in spite of the friendzoning revelation wound. he looks apologetic - whether towards you or taylor, though, you can't tell. "to be fair, i didn't actually know that."

"yeah. you don't know everything about me, healy" you reply, your attempt at lightheartedness falling a bit flat amidst the slight tension of the conversation.

matty scoffs. "i know enough."

the loaded comment stings, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes to match it. luckily, bea moves the discussion onto something else all technical and musical, giving you the opportunity to pull out your phone and pretend to be answering emails so that you don't have to look at matty and have him see you're upset. he notices, though, of course he does - matty knows your body movements like nobody else, like the back of his own calloused hand, and the events of four weeks ago mean he's also well-acquainted with what you look like when you're hurt. if you looked up for even a split-second and met your ex-boyfriend's gaze, you would see the clear regret and concern for you in his dark eyes; you don't, though, you keep your eyes on your phone until the soundcheck resumes and you and jamie are dragged off by taylor's parents to talk management and business.

and you're alright, initially, for the next few hours - you're busy having work-related discussions about promotion and marketing and getting some insider knowledge into taylor's career and the tour itself, which is eye-opening for you from both a career perspective and as a fan. bea's set is a bit of a challenge to get through, what with matty making a surprise appearance part-way through to play guitar on some of the songs he co-wrote with her; for the most part, though, you can zone him out, and focus on the fact that your friend and client - a girl not too much younger than you - is playing a stadium show on one of the biggest concert tours in history, cheering bea on proudly and singing along.

phoebe's set is different. sure, you don't have to see matty onstage - come to think of it, you don't know where he is. before you can stop it, a memory of you and matty together crosses your mind; a pre-show fuck in a random dressing room in buenos aires, an encounter that matty later claimed was "the reason why that show was our best ever". you briefly wonder if that's what he's up to now with taylor, her long legs wrapped around him, before choking both the thought and the vomit in your mouth back down to the circle of your own personal hell they appeared from, and focusing as best you can on the performance in front of you. which is a mistake, really, considering phoebe's set consists of all the songs you listened to non-stop after you and matty called it quits; by the time the intro to moon song begins, you're holding back sobs, quietly backing out of the vip tent and entering the inner corridors of the stadium.

you have no idea where you're going, but that doesn't bother you - the song is muffled by steel and concrete, so it's less painful, and your all-access pass means security just wave you through doors without stopping you. finally, you find a deserted spot in a corridor by the stairs, where you slump to the floor and just cry, overwhelmed by the jet lag and the emotions of phoebe's songs and your shitty love life and this whole fucking day in general. head in your hands and sobbing loudly, you don't notice the footsteps hurrying towards you, only registering the fact you're not alone anymore when a familiar voice speaks. "oh, princess."

matty, crouched down so he's eye level with you, looking sadder than you've ever seen him - well, with the exception of four weeks ago, that is. your lip trembles at the sight of him, and you cry even harder, speaking through wails. "please don't call me that, matty."

"sorry, sorry - force of habit," matty says quickly. "are you ok? actually, stupid fucking question, you're clearly not, but... i had to say something. i hate seeing you upset."

"well, you've been pretty good at making me that way recently."

matty sighs, moving to sit beside you against the wall. "could say the same for you, you know."

"really making me feel better here, man."

"sorry."

there's silence for a minute - your breathing is beginning to regulate, just out of the muscle and sense memories brought back by nothing more than matty sitting closely beside you, and you fucking hate it. with a sigh, you break it. "i'm sorry about what happened, you know. i just... got scared. didn't mean to be hurtful."

"s'fine," matty shrugs. "i'm sorry i ever brought it up."

"hey, less of that," you turn to matty, touching his arm softly. "it's what you want, and it's good you mentioned it, even if i panicked and disagreed. really."

matty makes a noncommittal sound. "i just hate that i ended up hurting you with it. i never want to do that, regardless of if we're together or not."

"same here."

with a small smile at you, matty checks the time on his phone. "phoebe's almost finished. you coming back down?"

"in a minute," you nod. "you go ahead."

matty gives you a quizzical look, but leaves with a "see you in a min" when you wave him away. taking a few deep breaths, you wipe your eyes and listen to phoebe's voice resonating through the stadium before you follow matty.

anyway, don't be a stranger...

#mads muses #mads answers asks #matty asks #angst asks #d word matty #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

[n3llieelle]

OMFG !!

AMAZING PROMPT POPPED INTO MY BRAIN AS IM IN A HOSPITAL RN FOR MY BROTHER BUT ANYWAYS BESIDES THE POINT (He’s doing fine btw).

THE READER RIDING COCKY JILL’S STRAP BEFORE HER ROOMIE CLAIRE GETS BACK, BUT THEY ALMOST GET CAUGHT THANK GOODNESS JILL HAD A PLAN. 🤭🤭

She is definitely dominant when it comes to sex – Her most favorite think is to have you ontop of her, as she leaned back into the pillows while you rode her strap-on, and you always seem too shy to make things work that way with her.

“Are we gonna fuck like this all night? Because I’m not complaining, but I want to get going before Claire gets back,” she said in a teasing voice. “You could just tell me what you need. I can give you everything you ever want.” You shook your head slowly as if deep in thought, when in actuality you were contemplating how many times you could possibly come tonight.

She smiled widely at this, knowing exactly what you were thinking. You couldn't hide anything from her for long - especially when it came to orgasms.

When you finally did speak, though, it was more of a mumble than a coherent answer. “No... no, you can't...” she raised an eyebrow in question. “I mean... yes, but, I don't want to be so needy... I'm sorry - " she silenced you with a passionate kiss. Her lips were warm on yours, gentle but firm, keeping her pace thrusting into you holding your hips down making it where you would probably have a bruise by tomorrow.

The only reason your legs weren't giving out from under you was because they had gone numb from pleasure, and that wasn't happening now. She made you feel weak, but at least you still had some strength left. After a minute or two of that you pushed forward to bring her closer. The rest of her body followed suit without protest; going deeper hitting every sensitive spot inside your pussy. When you pulled back, gasping for air you saw her eyes were half lidded, as though enjoying the view of your arousal. You blushed, not used to showing your face like this.

Both of you hear the front door open and claire “IM HOME!” yelled at the top of her lungs, hearing footsteps walk closer to your bedroom door. You froze up and Jill layed you on her chest telling you to pretend to be asleep, as she put the blanket over both of your naked bodies.

You heard Claire's voice calling through the thin walls as she opened the door to your room. Then there was silence and she said “Jill, what are you doing here?”

Jill replied “Just having a little situation trying to not wake y/n up.” Your heart raced even faster as you listened to their conversation. She chuckled lightly, “Well I’ll leave you be then.” Claire said quietly leaving the room shutting the door behind her, as Jill uncovered you once she was completely away. “Sorry about that, babe.” You gave her a soft smile as she pressed a lingering kiss to the corner of your lips. You looked deeply into her eyes. “Thank you,” you whispered softly, kissing her cheek.

You sat upright carefully, as her pace picks back up again, and she started whispering sweet praises in your ear telling you how beautiful you look and how good her hands feel on you, all the while you were getting closer, and closer to your climax remembering the feeling of being on cloud 9.

“Mmmhmn, yesssss... Yes, like that…” You could hardly contain yourself, and you were so close… It was almost painful… “Shhh, keep quiet..!” she commanded, stopping her movement abruptly, making you whimper. Your eyes met hers. “Come on baby, let me show you how much you mean to me.” She whispered seductively. You felt the heat between your legs spread as her hand moved lower.

As soon as she reached that place, she stopped, making you whine with frustration. “I know you do… Come on, cum for me baby…” Her voice turned husky, and it sounded so enticing, almost hypnotic. You tried to reach it as well. “Don’t try to deny it… It’s right there. You feel it, don’t you? That’s the feeling…” You bit your lip hard not to moan as she squeezed harder and harder until you were writhing under her grip, “C-cant take more haah—“ you mumbled into her neck.

“S`good, this pussy is all mine~ You like that, huh? Just sayin’… You should enjoy it while it lasts, right?” she asked you, smirking at your desperately eager nod.

“Good girl… ” she purred in between kisses and bites, making your nails dig into her back, as you threw your head back moaning in ecstacy. As your orgasm neared its peak her movements slowed down slightly. ‘Oh God please’ you silently pleaded, squeezing her back harder, not wanting her to stop for any longer than necessary. Then it hit and she moaned along with you as her climax overtook her. You closed your eyes, breathing hard and shuddering as the last spasm subsided, the tears welling up in them. You held on tight to Jill for fear of falling apart in a million pieces after such an intense experience.

“It's okay… Shhh… You're safe… It’s over now. It’s over, babe.. I love you…” You felt her kiss her way up your neck, nipping on your earlobe, before finally resting her forehead against yours. Your eyes fluttered open. “You’re really pretty when you’re crying like that…” she teased, caressing your damp cheek with the pad of her thumb, looking straight into your soul, causing a shiver to travel down your spine. Your eyes widened and you could practically taste her words.

“So beautiful…” she murmured. You kissed her deeply this time before she pulled herself off you and got dressed, heading towards the bathroom, not even bothering with your nipples poking through your shirt. Once she's safely in the restroom you lie back on the bed and stare at the ceiling, still unable to believe how incredible she made you feel – physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

You didn't want it to end. But alas the universe had other plans. As you slowly drifted off, the last thing you heard before passing out was “I love you,” she murmured, kissing your forehead softly.

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

A/N: my lovelies I hope that this satisfies any of your desires, and that I didn't do bad due to my writers block for you guys, so I am excited and nervous.

#resident evil #resident evil 🚔 #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x reader #jill valentine x fem! reader #jill valentine x you #jill valentine x y/n #jill valentine #jill valentine imagine #jill resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #lesbian

[eventinelysplayground]

This is my entry for @violettduchess and @lorei-writes shapes of love challenge. I actually wanted to write something like this a long time ago but couldn't pull it together then this challenge brought it back to mind. I also then saw a mood board with Yours (linked) on it that @lichtluv did and that song just let me take off running with it. This story goes under the prompts Storge (familial) and Mania (obsessive) love. Rio is having a hard time dealing with his feelings again after some news. Angst and some fluff, mentions of drinking WC approx 1564.

Why

The tavern was loud and boisterous tonight, almost too much so for Rio's liking but their alcohol was top notch and that was his primary goal. He wanted to drink so much he'd be numb, so much he might forget for a while.

When he had arrived he found the quietest darkest spot he could and ordered a bottle of gin. The first three bottles had disappeared fairly quickly and the fourth was close to joining them and yet he still wasn't anywhere near numb, was still thinking about Emma. About how despite everything he still wanted her.

How does it still hurt this much? I know it was my idea for her to marry my idiot brother but…if I could go back I'd beat myself up for being so stupid!

“Hey you wanna hear somethin?”

“Hear what?”

“Her Majesty is with child!”

“What!? Where did you hear that from? I ain't heard no announcement or nothin.”

“Keep your voice down! When his Majesty visited the shipyard yesterday I overheard him talkin to some of the guys and he mentioned it without thinkin. Threatened em all to keep their mouths shut for now if they knew what was good for em.”

“Well damn! We can look forward to a few days…”

Rio sighed at the men's words before downing the last of his glass finishing off the fourth bottle. He waved down a nearby barmaid and ordered two more bottles despite her protests of him having had a lot already.

That was the last thing I wanted to hear about tonight and this is nowhere near enough alcohol. Stupid Silvio and his big mouth, bet he let it slip on purpose. He had such a cocky, arrogant smile on his face when he heard that Emma had told me. Why the hell did that jangler have to go after her, he could have had any woman he wanted, why did he have to want Emma…

Just then the barmaid arrived with another large bottle of gin. Rio glared at her, his normally sky blue eyes turned as deep as the ocean with pain and uncharacteristic anger.

“I said two bottles.”

Rio's voice came out in a harsh growl and the barmaid flinched.

“I'm sorry I'll get the other one right away.”

Rio didn't even bother with his glass this time and lifted the bottle to his mouth taking a huge swig when he felt a hand grab his shoulder and squeeze tightly.

“Right, that's enough for you.”

“Get lost you dumb jangler!”

“What did you just say to me!?”

Silvio wrapped an arm around Rio's neck and hauled him to his feet.

“Oww let me go!”

“Not a chance.”

Rio struggled against Silvio's grip on him as he led him towards the door but his brother was always physically stronger than he was.

Just great as if I hadn't had enough today…

Rio saw Silvio nod at the barkeep quickly before leading him out the door and into the streets. The cool night air felt like a slap in the face to Rio and he cursed under his breath.

“Quit whining ya mutt.”

Silvio loosened his grip a bit on Rio's neck and he took advantage of it to push his brother off him.

“What the hell are you doing here Silvio? Actually I don't care, just get out of my sight!”

“You'd have to be able to see me first.”

Rio glared at his brother, his eyes filled with hatred.

“I wish you'd never gone to Rhodolite then I wouldn't have to see your stupid face every day!”

Silvio sighed and grabbed Rio by the collar dragging him into an alleyway. Before Rio knew it Silvio was dunking his head into a barrel of water, he flailed his arms for a minute before his head was pulled back out of the barrel.

“What the fuck Silvio!? What are you-”

Rio's words were cut off when his head was once again dunked into the barrel but this time he felt Silvio giving his head an extra shove. His head surfaced and he gasped and coughed turning around to face his brother once he had released him. He had wanted to hit him, to scream at him but the chilly water and cold air was doing the trick and instead he just sank to the ground leaning back against the bricks. He brought his knees up resting his arms on them and he looked up at Silvio but this time instead of anger it was pain in his eyes.

“Why couldn't it have been me? I loved her for years and she never loved me back. She knew you less than a month before she fell madly in love with you, why wasn't I enough for her?”

Rio placed his forehead on his arms, he didn't want to give Silvio the satisfaction of seeing him cry again. He didn't want to hear the speech he knew was coming, he just wanted to block it all out. Silence fell for a while and then he sensed Silvio sit down beside him, he turned to look at his brother but he was just sitting there staring at the opposite wall. It wasn't often his older brother was in a listening mood, not to him anyways and Rio seized the opportunity.

“I used to picture my life with her, you know? Her falling in love with me, getting married, having lots of kids, even growing old together.”

Rio saw Silvio's jaw tense out of the corner of his eye.

“I knew she wasn't in love with me but I thought it was just a matter of time. She may not have been mine but I was definitely hers and I couldn't wait for her to realize she was meant for me, for her to have that look in her eyes. Then when I finally got to see that look I yearned to see in her eyes she wasn't looking at me, she was looking at you and it wasn't fair. I really did think you'd just play around with her and use her before breaking her heart and I was ready for that, ready to pick up the pieces but I should have known better. You might be an ass but deep down you aren't a bad guy Silvio… I guess this is what I get for never caring about anything or anyone for all those years isn't it?"

“Valerio…”

“Oh come on, I know you thought it at some point too. I wanted so badly to be able to change her mind but when I couldn't I tried to be happy for her, for both of you. I made it through your engagement and the wedding but I couldn't push through it this time. Why can't I move on from this, from her?”

“I don't know, but I'm sure somebody else will come along eventually. You always had women flocking around you at parties and stuff.”

“Ya but I never wanted any of them. I wanted Emma. I still want her but you had to come along and mess everything up and you get to have everything I dreamed about for years.Why did you have to fall in love with her?”

Rio shifted and turned to look at his brother and he was stunned, Silvio had an expression on his face he'd never seen before. The closest he could come to describing it was guilt and anguish but that wasn't quite it and it made his own heart ache for him. Silvio turned to face Rio and the brothers just stared at each other for a long time.

“I'll never apologize Valerio, it wouldn't be right to but… I promised myself I'd spend my life protecting and cherishing the woman you love. I'll make sure she's always happy and never regrets a thing.”

Rio may have been angry at Silvio but the truth was he knew his brother already did all those things and more, she was always smiling and happy.

“I know, as much as it still annoys me she fell in love with you just as much as you fell in love with her. The choice was always hers to make and it just wasn't me. I know you'll do everything and anything for her, you already do. Thank you for that Silvio.”

“You're thanking me now? Wait...are you still too drunk?”

Silvio reached out to grab Rio's head but he ducked away just in time.

“No! I'm fine, geez you were finally acting like a decent big brot-”

Rio stopped talking when he felt his brother pulling him in towards him and rustling his hair. None of them were ever very good at talking about their feelings. Silvio had always been the worst at it though so these simple gestures spoke volumes.

“Come on, let's get you home and in bed.”

Silvio stood first and extended a hand to Rio who took it and pulled himself upright. The two started walking out of the alleyway when Silvio suddenly stopped.

“What?”

Silvio turned around to face Rio and grabbed him by the ear .

“Ow ow ow!”

“If you tell anybody about what happened here tonight I'll take you out to sea and toss you in the middle of the ocean.”

“Ow Alright! I won't say a thing, now let go already you dumb jangler!”

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince rio #ikepri rio #ikemen prince silvio #ikepri silvio #rio ortiz #silvio ricci #Shapesoflovecc

[thoughtswordsandnonsense]

Not so Festive Xaden x Violet

Prompt: Winter Solstice at Basgiath means a week-long break for students and teachers, most are out celebrating but Violet has a hard time getting out of bed or caring about anything. Once Xaden catches on with the help of Violet's friends, they come together to comfort her.  

Trigger warning for seasonal depression and loss of family members. Sorry if this sucks, I'm in a bit of a funk right now.

Violet’s Pov: 

School had let out this week and while we aren’t allowed contact with family, most found a way to celebrate. Some we’re getting drunk, others we’re exchanging small gifts of baked goods and little trinkets they managed to sneak into Basgiath. 

Me, I was curled in bed feeling colder than ever, my body and mind feeling disconnected as I stared blankly at my wall. Liam had tried to come see me the first day off but I told him I wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to get him sick. That was a few days ago and only Rhiannon had bothered to try, though I quickly fed her the same story. Adding in a few coughs while she was here, she quickly bid me goodbye so she wouldn’t catch what I had. Lying felt bad, but at this moment I didn't care. 

Tairn has been grumbling at me for a few days and Andarna has made it her mission to try and get me to eat, but the energy it takes to leave this room is too much. Everything felt like it was too much. Brennan used to say the weather change made me like this though it wasn’t always this bad, he’d do his best to spend this week with me and Mira curled up in blankets with hot chocolate listening to Dad tell stories or all of us reading together. 

Mom hated that he let us take it easy once Solstice hit, she said it made us all soft and we were being useless. That we should be training or learning and not being so lazy. None of us cared though, the time together felt warm, cozy and loving, but now it only added to the hurt, not having Brennan or Dad made my heart ache. Warm tears lined my vision as it blurred, thinking of them only made the hurt intensify. 

“This isn’t healthy” Tairn butts in and I groan. “I’m well aware.” “Then come see us,” Andarna adds and I shove my face into my pillow, drawing my blanket above my head. “I love you both but please, just let me be.” Tairn huffs as Andarna makes a high-pitched whine that sounds similar to a dog’s. “Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” Tairn huffs “The fuck does that mean?”

 I grumble back but receive no response from either of them and I curl in on myself. 

To anyone else, this may seem pathetic, but it’s easier than having to fake being happy in front of everyone. 

Closing my eyes I let the coldness embrace me again, my window slightly propped open so I’d at least get some semblance of fresh air without having to go outside. There’s no noise besides the wind howling outside and it lets me slip further into numbness, tears that were going to fall earlier drying. 

Some time passes as I focus on only my breathing, the slight light that is making its way past my curtain has long gone as the cold night breeze makes its way into my room and seeps into my bones.

My door creaks and I bury myself further into my blanket. “I’m still not feeling good, you shouldn’t be in here.” I croak as my door shuts, loud footsteps make their way over to my bed and something is set heavily on my nightstand I peek my head out to see Xaden looking down at me with sympathy, my neck cranes just to see his face. A mage light shines on my desk illuminating the room. “You can fool others all you want Violet, but Tairn and Andarna tattled on you.” I groan “I hate you both right now.” Andarna whimpers and Tairn snarls “Watch it SIlver One, we’re just looking out for you.” Xaden sighs and it brings my attention back to him. “I’m not going to make you explain, I’m sure Tairn shared more than you’d like, but I won’t be leaving you like this.” “Since when do you care about more than keeping me alive?” His shoulders sag as he takes a deep breath his large warm hand coming to cup my cheek tenderly as he speaks. “Contrary to what you may think, I do care for you.” The warmth from his skin and tone shocks me as I glance up at his concerned gaze, his tall frame leaning over me as he takes in my ghostly complexion. Mira always said that a lack of sun made me look like a ghost. His hair looks devilish like he had just come from flying on Sgaeyl, the dark circles under his eyes tell me he also hasn’t slept much this break.

Another creek of the door I find Rhiannon and Liam standing in my doorway, Xaden turns and nods to Liam as they enter and make their way over. Both of them have grey fuzzy blankets draped around their shoulders and pillows under each arm. “Why didn’t you ask for help?” Xaden asks as they set up their stuff near my bed. “I just didn’t want to,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks heat up in embarrassment that they’re seeing me like this. Rhiannon meets my eyes and levels a glare that would make Mira proud, it’s similar to the look of a disapproving mother. “We’re friends, so like it or not we’re all staying here with you, including Riorson. You don’t have to suffer alone.” Liam tosses a pillow at Xaden's head that he manages to grab at the last second. 

He tosses it to the other side of my bed and then leans down and picks me up, I thrash as he whispers in my ear. “I’m here whether you like it or not. So how about you don’t fight me for just this once Violence?” He arranges us so I’m sitting in his lap and I cease thrashing, he leans his back up against my headboard and settles me in between his legs. I lean back against him as he reaches one arm out to the window and promptly shuts and latches it while the other keeps a firm grip on me. 

“How were you managing to be in here without getting hypothermia? Fuck, it feels like a morgue in here.” Liam comments as he pulls his blanket closer to him. “Sorry,” I shoot back quietly as Xaden pulls me even closer to him. His body feels painfully hot against mine as I try to squirm out of his hold. Xaden jumps as our bare skin connects. “Fuck, stay still.” He hisses as he pulls off his jacket and lays that on top of the blanket already on top of us.

 “Do you want help with your hair?” Xaden asks and I shrug “That bad?” The loose braid I put it in when the break started was likely a mess and I hadn’t cared to try and fix it. “Not to be a bitch  but, yeah dude it looks rough,” Rhiannon answers and I sigh knowing it’ll suck to fix later. “You don’t have to. I’ll get to it later.” Rhiannon tosses my hair brush that was sitting on my desk next to Xaden. “If you need help just ask.” She says as she settles into a conversation with Liam. Talking about the gossip of drunken first years at Solstice. Xaden’s hands slide into my hair, working the tie loose and starting from the bottom of my messy French braid. Lowly laughing as Rhiannon tells of Barlow throwing up on Dain, Liam's laugh is contagious to the point even I find myself cracking a smile. For the first time in days, I relax as Xaden’s fingers work through my hair, gently pulling apart tangles and rubbing my neck as he gets closer to my scalp. “Thank you.” I send down the bond to Tairn and Andarna. “Next time it gets this bad come find me, please,” Xaden says lowly into my ear as he finishes untangling my hair. “Okay.” 

Xaden passes me a mug as the smell of hot chocolate hits my nose and my eyes water all over again as my heart constrictions, I swallow past the lump in my throat and look up into his onyx gold-flecked eyes. ”Thank you.” 

#writing #booktok #fanfic #violet sorrengail #xaden riorson #booklr #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #rebecca yarros #xaden x violet #rhiannon matthias #liam x xaden x violet #violet and xaden #violence sorrengail #empyrean series #the empyrean #violet x xaden imagine #imagines #liam mairi #seasonal depressive disorder