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angstysebfan · 3 years

Text

The Past Can Break You - 5

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

Warning: implied smut, angst is back

The next 2 weeks were amazing. Bucky really turned everything around and showed you that he was committed to you. It made you feel so much better. While you felt bad that he now completely avoided Dot, because she is still out of place, you didn’t feel that bad because you knew she was bad news. Whenever she saw you and Bucky together she would scoff and glare at you. It made you uncomfortable.

One day the whole Avengers team was called into a meeting to discuss an upcoming mission. Per Steve and Tony, everyone, except you, were needed. You didn’t like the thought of staying behind with Dot in the compound, but you were a team player, and wouldn’t argue. Bucky on the other hand let Steve have it with both barrels.

“Steve you know the situation with Dot. Can’t someone else stay behind?” he said to Steve.

Steve sighed, “Yes, I know this will be difficult, but everyone else is needed for their skill. Y/N’s skills aren’t needed on this mission. She agreed, so why are you fighting me on this?” Steve argued back.

“Of course Y/N won’t fight this, but I am trying to protect her from Dot. You remember how vicious Dot can be, and I don’t want her to upset Y/N when we just started to get back on track,” Bucky said.

“Look Buck, I get it. I do. But this is how it is. The compound is big enough that Y/N won’t need to be anywhere near Dot. By the way, when are you going to tell her that she needs to start looking for employment and another living situation. She makes everyone uncomfortable. Even Tony is starting to get annoyed at all her questions about FRIDAY, and he loves showing people how smart he is,” Steve asked.

“I-I don’t know. I mean I know I have to do it, especially after what she’s pulled, but I still feel bad for her. I mean she didn’t ask for this to happen, and doesn’t deserve to be thrown out on her ass, but I know it’s the right thing to do. I’ll talk to Y/N about it and see if she has any ideas. Maybe if we help setting her up I will feel better about it,” Bucky said.

“Yea, I know. Let me know if you need help. But we gotta get packed and head to the quinjet. And please don’t worry about Y/N. Your girl is strong, and she knows how Dot is. She will be fine. Besides, we are only gone for like 24 hours, what could happen?” Steve asked.

Bucky didn’t respond and watched as Steve walked out of the meeting room. He ran his hands through his hair, what could happen? He hoped nothing, but he didn’t trust Dot. It’s funny the way she is acting now didn’t bother him when he was in the 40s, but now, because of you, he sees that she is not as great as he thought.

Bucky sighs and heads to your shared room to find you packing his bag for him. He smiles as he walks in, “Hey baby,” he says.

You look up at him and give him a bashful smile, “Figured I would help you out,” you said.

Bucky walks up to you and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his embrace. He looks into your eyes, and all you see is love and admiration in them. He leans in and connects his soft lips with yours. After a moment he deepens the kiss and you feel his tongue on your lower lip. You open you mouth in response, allowing him full access. When the need to breath becomes too great you pull away, panting.

“You’re only going to be gone a day,” you say with a chuckle.

Bucky also laughs, “Will you be ok? Here? With... her?” he asks.

You brush your hand through his soft hair, “Yea. I’ll stay clear of her as much as I can. But I’ll be ok,” you say.

Bucky pecks your lips again. “When I come home, I was wondering if you could help me with something,” he asks.

You look at him with confusion, “Like what?” you ask.

“I think it’s time for Dot to go off on her own, but I don’t want to just kick her out and make her fend for herself. I was thinking you could help me find her a job and a place to live? I would just feel better if I know I wasn’t kicking her out with nowhere to go,” he asks.

You smile and nod, “Sure. I’ll be glad to help. I’ll start while you’re gone,” you say.

Bucky kisses you one more time, “I’ll be back tomorrow. I love you, Doll,” he says.

“I love you too, Buck.”

You have to say you are surprised when you find yourself not running into Dot at all. It’s almost like she doesn’t want to be near you either, which is fine. She has spent most of the last 24 hours in the lab, while you stayed in your room looking up possible jobs and apartment for her.

You thought it was nice of Bucky to at least help set her up and not throw her to the wolves. It was something you admired about Bucky, his big heart. You both have been texting before the mission, but since then you haven’t heard from him. You hope everything is ok.

“FRIDAY, any update on the team?” you ask the AI.

“No agent, I’m sorry,” she responds.

You decide to take a nap in hopes that when you wake up your boyfriend will be home. You want your family home safe and sound.

You woke up to the sounds of the team in the hallway. You walk out and see Nat and Wanda and hug them hello. You head toward the common room hoping to see the guys, but don’t. You walk back toward the elevator and heard something from Dot’s room.

“Oh Dot, I’ve missed you so much, Doll,” you hear Bucky moan.

You gasp in horror as you continue listening to Dot moan and beg for Bucky to go harder. You can’t help the tears that begin to fall as you hear your boyfriend and his ex having sex.

“So good baby, you’re so good. Taking me so well, you feel amazing. No one is like you, I love you so much,” Bucky moaned.

You’ve heard enough and turn, running back to your shared room. You can’t be near him when he comes in pretending he didn’t just fuck his ex. Your heart is in a million pieces as his voice continues to play in your head. All you hear is her and his moans and his words. He loves her. It will always be her. Maybe you just need to learn to accept that.

“Buck, I think you should have told Y/N you got hurt. She is going to be worried about you,” Steve scolded.

“Look, I know my girl. She will be mad at first, but then she will nurse me back to health. I will have to convince her to ride me later, but it will be so worth it,” Bucky says with a smirk as the doctor continues to pull out shards of shrapnel from his side.

“Seriously man? TMI!” Sam complained before leaving Medbay.

Bucky laughed and then hissed as the doctor pulled another shard out. “How much longer? I don’t want Y/N to think I’m dead if she knows we are back,” Bucky asked the doctor.

“One more piece... and....” she pulls the large piece out, “There! Now I will quickly clean and bandage. no stitches cause you will heal fast, but please no sex tonight. You might bleed all over her,” the doctor said with a glare.

Bucky and Steve laugh. “Oh I talked to Y/N about helping me out with Dot and she agreed. I figured it was best to have her involved with that situation from now on,” Bucky says to Steve as the doctor cleans and bandages his side.

“Good idea, less messy that way. I hope everything went well here with the 2 of them,” Steve says.

“I’ll find out,” Bucky says as he puts his shirt on.

Both men walk to the elevator and head to their floor. They say their goodbyes in the hall as Bucky opens the door to your shared apartment. You aren’t in there, which confuses him, but he figures maybe you went to the kitchen.

When he walks into the bathroom he senses something is wrong. None of your toiletries are there. It was different from when you cleaned, plus his was still there. He walks back out to your room and sees that everything on your nightstand is gone too. Now he starts to panic as he goes to the closet and sees that all your clothes are gone. He tries to not have a panic attack because that will slow him down. He goes to head to the door and sees a piece of paper on the floor:

Bucky,

I guess I’m the stupid one. I’m stupid to think that everything you said to me was true. I was stupid to think that I could compete with your one true love. I was stupid to think that you really loved me. Well I won’t be stupid anymore. No need to lie and say what I heard isn’t true. I hope you and Dot are very happy together in your new apartment, but I’m done. Have a nice life.

Bucky dropped the letter and fell to his knees as tears pool down his cheeks. What the hell happened that you up and left him? You are angry with him, and he doesn’t understand why. He allows himself to cry for a moment before rereading it.

Dot.

Chapter 4 / Chapter 6

Oh Dot you dirty bitch! Feedback is appreciated.

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genshin-utopia · 3 years

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xiao | memories

note | thank you for the 1000+ followers. I don't deserve it with the lack of updates and motivation. Half a year and I finally decided to write again. This is similar to the "Moments with you" headcanons I do. I hope you like this new series I will be starting with each/most/some characters. Also big thank you to @arthurhastingpoems for betaing! This was suppose to end with smut but lol what happened.

Tags: Established relationship, extremely corny/cheesy lol, hurt/comfort, a tiny bit of violence, fluff, bittersweet if you squint

You never expected to fall deep in love with the man beside you, who’s seldom rough and cold. But also, so soft towards you, as if you were something precious to him. A collection of stories shared between the two of you.

It was rather unexpected when you first discovered you had a peculiar interest in Xiao’s arms or more specifically, his strength. You love how easy it was for Xiao to pick you up, as if you weighed nothing – that raw power that’s contained within. The first time you consciously discovered this fact was when you were playfully wrestling him due to playful banter.

You were both on the sofa, a soft comforter that left you unintentionally drowsy as you sink deeper into a comfortable state. On the other hand, Xiao was seated upright on the other end with a book in his hands. These were rare peaceful days that you both couldn’t afford frequently as duties kept you two occupied and most importantly, separated. As sleep started to overtake your senses, you started poking him lightly with your feet to draw his attention.

The slight twitch in response did not go unnoticed, however his gaze continued to be fixated on the literature in front of him. You, of course, did not mind as much but continued your ministrations to escape your drowsy state.

As time went by, you rose from your laying position and snuggled closer to him, laying your head softly onto his shoulders. You peered over curiously at the pages in front of you. Almost immediately, the words, “Rex Lapis,” neatly printed on the paper caught your eyes. Slightly irked at the fact that Xiao was paying more attention to Zhongli even in this situation, you started slowly tracing his arms with your fingers.

“Stop,” he commanded softly, not sparing a glance at your direction.

You ignored his words, your hands trailing further down to his chest before swiping the book from his hands quickly.

Chuckling to yourself in triumph, you edge yourself towards the other end of the couch, away from him. However, you can’t escape from Xiao. Within seconds, your back is on the sofa with him hovering above you.

Not wanting to admit defeat, you attempted to stretch your arm, with the book in your hands, up to where Xiao couldn’t reach. That attempt was proven to be futile as his body presses you down with his larger one, ceasing all movement. You continued to squirm away from his grip until suddenly Xiao traps both your wrists above your head with one hand, the book slipping away in the process.

Xiao’s free arm cages your head, not allowing you to look away. He slowly lowers himself to your ear, whispering, “Where are you going?”

Hues of pink flushed your cheeks at his husky voice that was so close to you. Suddenly realizing the precarious position you were in, you shifted your eyes away from his gaze and onto his arms. Despite the initial embarrassment, you loved how he cages you with his arms. Ironically, you felt protected and safe.

Not liking that your gaze was averting from his, he gently lifts your chin with his free fingers, “Look at me.”

You quickly followed his command only to meet his darkening gaze. Hypnotized by his eyes, you squirmed once more but this time to get closer to the source of heat above you. “X-xiao, kiss me.”

He obliged quickly, closing the gap between you and swallowing your whimper. His tongue delves between your lips, unhurried and tender. Xiao has one hand up your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your chest as he steals your oxygen. The slow and soft touches were torturous, you started bucking your hips up impatiently. However, before you can get the friction you so desire, he anchors himself up slightly. His arms are still caging your body, but this time he leaves a small space between the both of you. A small smirk etches onto his face as he looks at your needy expression, wanting more of his touch.

You love his strength and his arms caging you.

But he loves your docile self as a result.

ii.

Xiao is very much like the element he holds.

Like the storm, the wind can be very turbulent.

Yet it can also be soft, gently caressing your cheeks as you walk.

He also has a quirk of disappearing and appearing before your eyes randomly.

Much like right now.

You are currently taking a break on the hilltop after a long commission you just finished. Your back rests on the trunk of the tree perched on top of the hill. Its leaves serve as an umbrella, shielding you from the sun's harsh rays. You close your eyes as the gentle breeze wafts through the air, enjoying a peaceful and tranquil time to yourself.

It has been several days since you’ve last seen Xiao as the both of you are quite busy, especially the latter.

At times like these where you are unoccupied with only your own thoughts accompanying you, you find yourself missing Xiao the most.

You close your eyes, his silhouette forming inside your mind as you start to reminiscence the times you’ve shared with each other.

“Xiao...” You whispered unconsciously.

For the next few seconds, only the leaves soft rustling could be heard.

Just then you sensed a presence in front of you. Your instincts kicked in and you hurriedly open your eyes and unsheathed your weapon.

However, it wasn’t a lone hilichurl in front of you like you expected, but the person you longed for the most.

You quickly sheathed back your sword and stood on your feet, a bright smile adorning your face at the sight of Xiao appearing before you. You ran to his awaiting arms, wrapping your arms around him, and leaning your head on his broad chest. He reciprocated the hug, enclosing your body with his arms. It felt like time halted for the both of you, like nothing existed except you two.

You were snapped out of your trance when you felt a slight weight behind your ears. Curiously, you withdrew from his loving arms and directed your attention to his hands.

“Crystalflies for you,” he stated as his right hand were filled with numerous crystalflies, “I caught more than I intended. I hope you don’t mind.”

Happiness surged through your body; your previous loneliness long forgotten as you took the batch of crystalflies from his hands gratefully.

A small smile carved its way to his face, his gaze softening at your ecstatic self. He combed your hair softly with his right hand, “As I thought you look very nice.”

He leaves a quick kiss to your forehead before disintegrating with the wind.

“If you wish to seek me, call out my name.”

iii.

The sharp arrow plunges into your stomach, halting your movements and loosening your grip on your sword. You felt as if your insides were ripped to shreds by a mere arrow due to your carelessness. You were fulfilling a commission which entails you emptying a hilichurl camp. What was thought to be a simple task became a nightmare as you let your guard down when reinforcements came unexpectedly. You scoffed to yourself at your idiocy for ever letting your guard down in a fight.

A sense of dread overcame your senses, your vision blurring momentarily, and you lose footing for a split second.

Flashes of images depicting your moments with Xiao crossed your mind.

You wonder how he was doing at the moment. Probably also fighting demons like he always did.

You wished to see him right now.

With that thought in mind, you gripped your sword firmly with more determination.

A blue magic circle formulates beneath your feet as you send ice shards at the hilichurl sharpshooters hidden within the trees. You ignore the sharp pain of your stomach at your sudden movement, and instead you diverted your attention at the several Mitachurls with axes surrounding you.

“Come at me you assholes.”

The area immediately became colder as shards of ice flew everywhere. Your stamina is decreasing at an alarming rate as you quickly cleared the area with your sword and magic.

You shoved your sword into the last mitachurl when you heard a distant horn in the distance, signifying to you that there were more to come.

You could no longer ignore the pain of your new wounds all over your body and kneeled slightly while clutching at your stomach.

Were you going to die?

No, you couldn’t.

Just then when all hope was lost, the clear blue sky darkens into a gray hue as the wind around you started to pick up ominously.

Could it be?

“Block it."

Reflexively, at the sound of a very familiar voice, you immediately surround yourself with thick shards of ice and braced yourself.

A turbulent force plunged down from the sky, the surrounding area immediately getting hit by explosive wind, rendering all enemies powerless and dead within seconds. The shards of ice protecting you cracked, before crumbling away. You peered up and met the eyes of Xiao, his normally impassive face deforming into one of pure anger.

“Why?” He gritted out, “Why didn’t you call for me?”

“Because I’m strong,” you managed to mutter out. As if to prove your point, you staggered to get on your feet to demonstrate you didn’t need his help despite the pain consuming your senses.

“No, you humans are weak,” he stated harshly, voice icy cold.

You shook your head, ready to retort. However, whether it was the relief of seeing Xiao again or the fact that you survived the whole ordeal, you couldn’t fight the pain of your wounds. You braced yourself for a harsh drop, but instead something soft embraced you.

You couldn’t figure out what it was before you faded into a deep slumber.

iv.

Drifting in and out of consciousness resulted in your inability to depict what was real and what was fake.

Your wounds from that day were proximately fatal and you spent the majority of the day and nights recuperating.

You would dream of getting impaled by several arrows.

Sometimes you would dream of horrific images of ways you could’ve died that day, like you are right now.

However, before the nightmare could get any further, a green butterfly would always spreads its wings, painting the canvas with new colors instead of the dreadful gray and red images.

The nightmare would disintegrate slowly into shards that would evanesce into a better scenario.

You would open your eyes only to be greeted with golden orbs who covered your vision, “Hurry and go back to sleep.”

Those nights you would dream of a green butterfly accompanying you and circumventing you with warmth.

You have come to a startling conclusion that Xiao was ignoring you for weeks.

Xiao often wanders and if he wasn’t at home or wouldn’t appear out of thin air at your call, you couldn’t pinpoint where he is.

Rummaging through your head, you couldn’t come up with a decisive moment where it led to this.

Clutching onto your soft blanket, you pulled it closer to you for warmth. The spot on the bed adjacent to you felt even more emptier than before.

For weeks you endeavored to dissuade yourself from coming up with the revelation that he doesn’t want to see you. You continued your everyday obligations, diverting yourself with dispiriting thoughts that plagued your mind. Unfortunately, you were at your breaking point, the rain pitter-pattered against your windows made the atmosphere even more dejecting.

Tears formulated at the corner of your eyes and leaks reluctantly down your cheeks.

“Xiao,” you called out softly.

Just then, familiar hands caress your cheeks, wiping away the tears that eluded, “Why are you crying?”

The person you wanted to see the most was now in front of you yet simultaneously was the last person you wanted.

You chuckled monotonously, “Is this a dream?”

Xiao shook his head slightly, hands never once leaving your cheeks. Slight anger submerged within you at his nonchalant attitude as you push his hands away from you. “Why are you here?”

Silence emerged with only the sounds of the rain reverberating around the room. No one moved an inch. You were still sitting up on your bed, clutching onto the white blanket whereas Xiao was standing next to the bedside unnervingly.

You half anticipate him to disintegrate into thin air once more, but what you didn’t expect was him to sit next to you on the bed. He grasps your hands with his, holding it carefully as if you were a porcelain doll ready to shatter at any given moment.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Thousands of rebuttals were ready to be hurled at him, but you waited patiently instead for him to continue. After weeks, you were finally getting some answers.

“One day I might be contaminated with evil itself. These hands...” He trailed off, hands withdrawing from yours.

Your eyes trails from his hands to his face. The moonlight reflecting through the window, illuminates his beautiful face. Now that you gotten a closer look, you realize that he looks tired, worn down from years of torment.

The anger subsided, leaving nothing but love for the man in front of you.

You reach out for his face, lifting him out of his thoughts. Your eyes never left his, hoping to convey your adoration towards the man. You reach out for his rough hands littered with callouses that developed over the years.

You bring his hands to your cheeks, resting on them before leaving a soft kiss onto one of them. “These hands have brought so much happiness. The crystalflies you gathered that day, the soft hands that would comfort me during a nightmare...You’ve done so much.” You crawled onto his lap, resting your forehead on his, hands never once leaving his.

“No matter what, I want to be with you.” With that you closed the gap between the two of you, pressing your lips onto his. Compacted In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, thousands of loving thoughts condensed into this kiss. Your heartbeats resonated in each other’s ears, and you could only focus on how soft he felt against your mouth, how addictively he invaded all your senses. You continue to place soft kisses to convey how much you love him, before slowly, detaching yourself from his embrace and resting your forehead against his, “Even if my time is short...”

The two of you remain in the comfort of each other's arms, with only the wind reverberating against the window in this long night. Instead of an everlasting adepti and an ordinary human, it was just Xiao and you, hearts connected. The sand in the hourglass can’t be stopped until it reaches its end, but for now you will enjoy the flow with the person you love most.

#xiao fluff #xiao headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #xiao x reader #xiao #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader

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hotch-stufff · 3 years

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Hey it’s me again m, I have another request , I’d like Angst Prompt #10 "I'm on my way" with Gibbs. He answers the phone and is told something happened to the reader, and the reader is at the hospital and later on it leads to finding out the reader has Angst Prompt #55 Chronic illness. Please and thanks and you amazing at writing!!

Changes Nothing

gif by dwaynepride

Pairing: Gibbs x Reader

Warnings!: chronic illness, mentions of epilepsy, , mentions of seizures,, hospital, angst, pain, fluffy ending

Description: Gibbs rushes to the hospital when he finds out you were admitted. How will you tell him its because of an illness?

Author's Note: I don't have much experience with chronic illness, so if I messed something up. Just lmk. Hope you enjoy reading!!

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You had been having seizures since you were a kid. It took the doctors a year and half for them to realize it was epilepsy. It took another year to figure out the best medication to use for a 9 year old. You had been in hospitals a gazillion times by the time you were 11. Growing up with epilepsy was hard, you couldn't do very much as a kid.

But you learnd to live with your condition, as did most people. As you got older, the medications got better, and the seizures became rare occurrences. But they did still happen. You still visited hospitals at least a dozen times a year. But you never let it stop you from living your life, or being with someone else. The only thing was, you still hadn't told your current boyfriend about your condition.

You and Gibbs had been together for about a year before he heard about your first "episode". It had been a relatively normal day. You had left Gibbs house that morning, giving him a deep kiss on your way out the door to work. He had smacked your ass as you left, giving you a sly grin before you drove off.

He had gotten his coffee, gone to work, and did his paperwork, just like everyday. Only today was different.

He didn't get his usual morning text from you. Sure he had just seen you, but you always sent him an i love you text, or a have a good day text after getting to work. But you didn't today. That had been the first thing that set him off.

The second being you not showing up for lunch. He had called and called. But you hadn't answered. He was only growing more worried throughout the day.

He knew something was wrong when a call from an unknown number popped up on his phone.

"Agent Gibbs." Was his quick answer.

"Agent Gibbs, this is Doctor Harrold Green from St. Elizabeths hospital. I'm calling because Y/n Y/l/n is in the hospital, and your listed as her emergency contact." He didn't let the doctor explain. Hearing your name and hospital in the same sentence scared the hell out of him.

"I'm on my way." He got out quickly before hanging up, not waiting to listen to why you were in the hospital. He grabbed his coat and took off towards the stairs. He was too impatient to wait for the elevator. The team was shocked to see their boss leaving in such a hurry at only 2 in the afternoon, without a word.

Gibbs broke just about evey speeding law on his way to the hospital, barely parking the car before he was out and running towards the front doors. His eyes searched frantically for the front desk, sprinting to it immediately.

"I'm looking for Y/n Y/l/n." He was so out of breath. Panting in front of the woman as she searched the name on her computer.

"Room A23, down the hall to your left." He nodded in thanks and took off down the hall, nearly sprinting past the room he was in such a rush.

He opened your door, walking in to see you lying in a hospital gown, an IV hooked up to your arm.

"Jethro!" You exclaimed in surprise. You had completely forgotten you had recently changed your emergency contact.

"Y/n. Are ya okay? What happened?" He demanded, his voice raspy from being so breathless.

"Shit. This is not how I wanted to tell you." You looked almost ashamed, guilty even.

"Tell me what?" Gibbs asked hesitantly.

"I had a siezure today. Well more than one seizure, multiple seizures. They were bad to say the least, and I ended up passing out." You paused gaugung his reaction. "My coworker called 911, and they ran some tests. I uh... I have a condition. I have since I was little, I just didn-" he cutoff your ramble.

"A condition?" He asked. Why hadn't you told him?

"Yeah."

"W-whats wrong?" Here goes nothing.

"I have epilepsy." You saw his eyes widen slightly as he swallowed audibly. He didn't say anything. "I um, I didnt tell you because I didn't know how you would react. Most people don't want to be with people who have chronic illnesses. It's a huge burden to take on and I just didn't want to add that to your life, but I was selfish because I really love you and I thought telling you would make you leave and I ju-" he cut off your ramble once again, but this time with a kiss. A sweet innocent little kiss that meant the world to you. He broke away, but cupped your face softly.

"Sweetheart, I will always love you. No matter what. This changes nothing. I wish ya would've told me sooner, but I understand why ya didn't." Tears formed in your eyes. "Ya scared the hell outa me though." You let out a watery laugh

"I love you. You have no idea how much this means to me." He brought you in close, leaning his forehead against your own, interlocking your fingers.

"You are my everything, and nothing is going to change that." He kissed you again, just to prove his point. This kiss was sweeter than his usual pecks. It was more meaningful.

You gave him quite the scare, but he was so happy you were okay. And you were happy that he was accepting you for who you are. You had never had that before in a partner. You heart was soaring.

He took you home that night, holding you as close as possible, only letting go when he absolutely had to.

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Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so ask away! I have a lot of requests to get through, so i am so sorry if it takes me a while to get to yours!!! If you would like an idea of what to request, here is my prompt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#ncis gibbs #gibbs imagine #leroy jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs x reader #gibbs x reader #gibbs #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis #nct x reader #imagine #angst #fluff #reader insert

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

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creativeashproductions · 3 years

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A Distant Dream IV // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides to wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history

Warnings: Swearing, grief, mourning a relationship, sadness, angst, war/death, mention of strict parents, and fluff

Words: 3.1

A/N: This is a disclaimer: just because the reader and Luke start to get along better and have a date does NOT mean she isn’t grieving her relationship. Whether the love faded or not with Peter that is still a large part of who she was/is or don’t expect her and Luke to fall into a relationship immediately.

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Masterlist

The phantoms had disbanded for the night, leaving Julie alone in her room surrounded by books and Flynn. You’d snuck down to the basement as you had since you arrived in 2020 from a different world. The wardrobe that quite literally changed your life was in the back corner, unassuming for the young girl.

Your e/c eyes pinned to the antique wooden furniture that had traveled from England to America as if fate had guided it. No matter how long time went by you’d never been able to touch the wardrobe, let alone touch remotely close. A part of you feared finding if you could return to Narnia or not.

It was something you kept private from the new people helping you to assimilate back into a life on Earth. The boys often refused to leave you for very long after the traumatic disappearance, even when you urged for space. It had almost been as tricky as negotiating peace with a land boiling with civil unrest.

Alex had taken to holding your hand as you slept for peace in both him and you; he’d noticed the state of sleep you endured. It was fitful and often filled with memories in the form of nightmares. The one from last night reared its head once more.

An intake of breath as you pulled your fingers closed to your cheek. Eyes on the movement before you released the bow. The arrow sailed true into the unsuspecting enemy with a faint whistle as it travelled.

The body dropped, one of many of the battles you had attended since defeating the White Witch. A life was still a life, and taking one was incredibly difficult. You saw it in the eyes of Peter, heard it in Susan’s strained voice, saw it in the way Edmund carried himself, but the most heartbreaking was the feeling of Lucy’s tense shoulders in certain moments.

Edmund and Lucy had been children when the White Witch had reigned and fought. Lucy had been only nine years old when her foot first touched Narnian snow. At that tender age, she’d watched the evil of the world up close. Edmund not that incredibly older. The youngest Pevensie had watched her brother take his last breath. Felt the trauma of Edmund’s gasping as the cordial bled one life-giving drop of liquid.

“I’d like to say it gets better, but it truly doesn’t, Your Majesty.” General Oreius’ announced from his station beside you. It was a lull in the tension building as people got ready for the enemies on the horizon.

Oreius’ addressed you but kept his gaze on the approaching army from an enemy land; the General was gifted in multitasking. He’d stopped to give you a little peace in only the way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Oreius.” You informed the General as he took off into the land ahead, leaving you to hold off the enemy with arrows. The short lapse is a game-changer for you as you run into battle.

Last night’s dream had been a reprieve from the dreams of Peter staring sadly at you curled around Luke. It hadn’t happened, of course, but that didn’t dim the bonfire of emotions you felt for the hazel-eyed guitarist.

You couldn’t quite figure out if you loved Peter the way a wife should love their husband. It wasn’t solely Peter that made you come to the wardrobe frequently. It had to do with the family that became yours when your parents had been shitty.

“Hey.” Julie spoke, stepping up to your side. The first person to have found you in the basement where you had an entirely different life.

“Hi.” You murmured, breaking your stare to meet the lovely teenager who had taken your brother and friends into her home. Even if it hadn’t been a smooth start, the band had grown infinitely closer.

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” Julie softly questioned with soft brown eyes taking in the action you’d known for years. Your fingers brushed a strand of her gorgeous coil hair behind her ear with a gentleness you’d done so with Susan and Lucy.

Julie watched as your eyes saddened, “I don’t know. Mere seconds before I stumbled out of the wardrobe into your home, I was an adult. I had been in my early ’30s reigning beside my husband, and then I was the same sixteen-year-old girl breaking the chains of the Mercer name.”

“You feel guilty you left Alex, Luke and Reggie without answers, but you feel like you’re betraying your new family?” Julie questioned, shifting on her sneakers to stare at the emotional mask you’d developed in Narnia.

“Something like that.” You simply replied, casting one more look at the wardrobe in your haste to leave the basement.

Julie waited until you had left before she opened the wardrobe with a loud creak. Her hands brushed material hanging before her hand met a solid surface. Her face dropped at the physical evidence that Narnia couldn’t be reached from this wardrobe again.

Julie adored you, but she wanted to know how true happiness looked on your pretty features. Even if she had to give up you just so you could be happy, it was worth it, so when you left the basement each visit, she’d check the wardrobe.

It always failed. Not a speck of snow or a call of your royal title. Had Julie not seen you tumble out of the wardrobe, she’d have never believed the story.

“One day.” Julie murmured to the silent wardrobe.

Your foot barely passed the threshold of your attic space when your ’90s friends dropped unceremoniously on the floor. Each wearing a big grin that matched the fake one you plastered on.

“Where’d you go this time?”

“Top of the Hollywood sign.” Reggie piped up, skipping over to distribute a cheesy tourist keychain of the sign. Had it been someone else than Reggie, you would have joked about it, but you never could with the sweet puppy like teenager.

“Thank you.” You told the boy who had taken to grabbing little souvenirs for you. You couldn’t remember when he’d sat beside you, but he’d softly informed you how much he’d missed you.

In the year following your disappearance, Reggie had built up a collection of trinkets he thought you’d love; he was the one with the most optimism. Even if he believed you’d met an end, that little spark of hope never died. He wouldn’t be Reggie Peters if the hope wasn’t there.

“I wish I knew if my parents kept that box.” Reggie sighed, referring to the trinkets he had collected the year you’d gone missing. You merely squeezed his shoulder in response before catching gazes with Luke.

“Flynn still here?” Alex questioned, pushing himself to sit on the box bench underneath the window. He’d proudly chosen the wear one of the t-shirts Flynn had personalized for the band.

You shrugged, “Dunno. Julie found me.”

Reggie and Luke were oblivious, but Alex knew to the core of his soul where you tended to spend alone time. Alex would see how you’d return with that ache in your eyes more prominent, and your lips quirked down just enough for him to tell. He saw the guilt when you looked at Luke, the way you thumbed your ring.

“Do you want to hang out? Maybe to use Julie’s computer to search for our childhood friends? See if Sarah got valedictorian?” Alex asked, swinging his feet, trying to pull you from your thought which he was successful with.

“Sure.”

Reggie and Luke watched as you and Alex left the attic for some one on one time together, leaving the two.

“I wonder where they’re going?” Reggie questioned, staring after the closed door. His hands pushed into the back pockets of his jeans.

Luke shrugged, “You wanna write a song?”

“Sure! We could-”

“Not country,” Luke told the bassist, who pouted but followed as his best friend poofed to the garage.

The two Mercer siblings wandered the streets of Los Angeles, each in their own thoughts but comforted by the odd brush of their arms. For Alex, it felt like the old days when you both snuck out of the house just for some air. To just to leave the tense expectations shoved on their shoulders by their perfectionist parents.

“If I’d never disappeared and you didn’t die, where do you think we’d be?” You mused, thinking of all the what-ifs. Would you have gotten together with Luke? Would Sunset Curve had gone on to do sold-out shows.

“I don’t really know, to be honest. I think if we’d gone on to be successful that Reggie would have a ranch somewhere. He might have even released an EP of country songs. I think you and Luke would be together.” Alex thought with a bittersweet smile.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Where do you think you would be?” You questioned the older Mercer, who simply shrugged, “I like to think you would have been happy. Whether that was with someone, who was worthy of you or just by being yourself. Maybe you would have started a charity or been an advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.”

Your e/c eyes caught the smile growing on your older brother’s mouth, bringing a lightness to your body.

“I don’t think it matters. We’re exactly where we’re supposed to be. If we had survived, I would have never seen you again.” Alex confessed, “I think we were always meant to meet Julie.”

You went to open your mouth when your eyes found one of the last places you wanted to be. Somehow you and Alex had walked into the area where the country club was sitting just as it was back in the ’90s. From a distance, you could see the unmistakable form of Sarah, the girl in your grade who had always unwillingly competed academically with you. Sarah was just another girl with heavy expectations from her own wealthy parents.

“Is that Sarah?” Alex softly chuckled as the girl, now a woman, holding the hand of her husband with genuine happiness, “She looks happy.”

“She deserves it. The rivalry all our parents had was insane, so I’m happy one of us got the least complicated life.” You informed Alex bumping your hip against his leg as you talked with the pink-loving male.

England, 1940s

Four youth occupied one of the many rooms in the manor that didn’t hold a candle to Cair Paravel grand size and beauty. Not that the four confused siblings spent time taking a gander in the room. Each focused on how they’d lived well into their thirties before regressing back to the ages they were when they stepped into the wardrobe. There were minor changes.

Edmund wasn’t acting like a knob, Susan inserting herself as dominant, and Lucy was quieter than usual. Peter, however, had a boiling rage he could barely contain within himself.

“Do you think Aslan did this?” Susan questioned her siblings. A single tear rolling down her face at the grief she felt.

Each Pevensie was in the beginning stages of grief. They had to grieve the life they had lost in a magical place. A place where the war didn’t ravage like it did to their home country. For the suitors, she’d only just started to seriously look into.

Not a single shred of evidence tied themselves to Narnia.

“Who else?” Peter scoffed, bringing a gasp from Lucy’s mouth. They had all proudly reigned with Aslan in mind. Not a word is spoken against the great lion who’d died for Edmund and came back to life.

“Pet-”

“This is your fault.” Peter told his younger brother with a grimace on his face, “We had everything we ever needed in Narnia. Why did you need to catch that stupid stag?”

Edmund’s eyebrows furrowed, “You make it sound like our lives were perfect. Newsflash, King Peter, but it was far from that. You barely focused on your marriage, let alone Y/N.”

“Edmund.” Susan admonished, glancing between her brothers as if watching a tennis match. The only sister paying attention as Lucy stared out the window at the overcast day.

“It’s true! His marriage was a sham, and he lied to the entire kingdom!” Edmund shouted with a heated glare, “You acted like you were the most important person in Narnia, like the only reason the place worked was because of your hand solely.”

“Shut up,” Peter growled, stepping right up to his little; Edmund had lost a lot of inches, brother with a sneer. Their hair mussed from rubbing against the furs.

“Just because you’re older and you had High in front of your title doesn’t lessen our power too.”

“STOP IT.” Lucy screamed, stomping her foot, “Who cares about that. How about we focus on where Y/N went? She was right with us in there, and then out of nowhere, she’s gone.”

“I know.” Peter’s shoulder dropped in defeat as it settled further into his mind. Not only had he lost the years he’d lived, but he’d also lost you somewhere along the line.

While you’d fallen out of love, or maybe you’d never even been in love with Peter; he’d faithfully kept feelings for you. Part of him had always known your heart was taken by another, but he cherished the times you had together.

“And she’s not in another place right now. She’s somewhere in the far future.” Edmund added with his arms crossed over each other, “She never elaborated on when, where or what the future looks like. How can we find someone that doesn’t exist yet?”

“We hope our future selves can find her.” Susan finished sending a look at each of her siblings, “In the meantime, let’s live our lives for her, so we have tons of stories for her to listen to.”

Molina Household, America 2020

Luke Patterson shook in his black vans, his best pair he owned, holding simple flowers Julie had gotten. Money from busking down at the pier for some cash the boys could have for anything they wanted. They always left money with a note when they got items.

The flowers’ stems were definitely in a battle to survive the grip from the scared teenage ghost. He’d started the day with a tickle in the back of his mind to ask you out. Just a simple date with no strings attached to see where it could go. He couldn’t chicken out when he’d already knocked, and the door was opening.

“Oh! Luke.” You gasped, blinking at the sudden appearance of the phantom. Luke’s eyes melted at the oversized flannel layered over a cropped dark blue sweater.

Your style pre-Narnia and during Narnia had coalesced over the few months you’d found yourself on Earth. Your love of cropped tops returned with a modest twist, the modesty unshakable.

“I know it’s been hard adjusting from Narnia, but I was wondering if you would go on a date with him?” He blurted, dancing on the balls of his vans with an expression of pure nerves.

Your mind flew twenty miles an hour thinking through the implications of accepting a date with this teenager. A dead teenager at that. Sure he was only a year older, but fate had a sick sense of humour.

“I don-”

“I know in your other world you have a husband. I get that, but there’s something undeniable between us. It’s been there since the ’90s, and we always just pushed it away. I learned over the twenty-six years that life is too short.” Luke pleaded, slowly pushing the pretty bouquet into your arms, “Just one date to see if this is worth pursuing.”

You should have said no, but you couldn’t, “One date.”

Luke mentally pumped his fist in the air in celebration as if he was starring in a John Hughes movie. As if reading his mind, you teasingly thrust your hand in the air, the very same hand coming into Luke’s grip.

“There isn’t a lot that we can do, but Willie knows a guy unaffiliated with Caleb. Well, he knows him through a few guys, but he hooked me up. In this lovely basket, we have a menagerie of food that I can eat.” Luke spoke proudly with that same twinkle he always had with you by his side.

Your lips parted in pure elation. Luke Patterson was taking you out on one of the things that had been on your bucket list. A picnic date, something you and Alex each desired to enjoy.

Luke led you down a few streets to a park notorious for cute dates. Julie stood over a cliche checkered blanket. In her hand was an old iPhone or iPod hooked up to a Bluetooth speaker, a playlist curated of your favourite songs ready to go.

“You remember how to use this?” Julie questioned the teen ghost with one raised eyebrow. Luke nodded in his mission to unpack the food in a form that was as romantic as possible.

Julie nodded before casting a quiet goodbye to the two ’90s teens.

“How’d you know?” You questioned Luke as he poured a glass of the beverage he’d chosen. His ever-changing eyes flicked up to yours with an endearing expression.

Your eyes scanned his messy hair. He had taken the time to meticulously styled for his date with you. He’d chosen that gorgeous purple corduroy long sleeve shirt that turned his hair to melted milk chocolate. He hadn’t done a 180 on his style; he’d never tell you he’d styled his hair off his forehead into what Alex had dubbed the Prince Charming hair.

“1994 in the studio for Alex’s fifteenth birthday. Bobby snuck some alcohol he’d collected from his uncle’s BBQ and his father’s stash. We got drunk for the first time and played truth or dare.” Luke recalled with a smile.

He remembered how much of lightweights they were and the way his heart fluttered when Alex answered Reggie’s question. He explained how his ideal date was a picnic in a park with either a guy he was seeing or his celebrity crush. He’d mentioned it was something he shared with you, and then all Luke could think about was taking you on a picnic.

“Dealing with Alex’s hungover ass was a nightmare.” You grunted, swiping one of the pieces of watermelon from a container.

“I can only imagine.” Luke chuckled, slowly shifting closer to you with a sandwich in his left hand. His right arm slowly slinked over your shoulders to rest, the movement halting as your shoulders tensed momentarily.

“Were you really gonna confess that night I disappeared?” You asked the guitarist currently focused on the delicious sandwich. It reminded him of his mother packing his lunch every day, even in his high school years despite telling his mom he could do it himself.

“I was. I chickened out.” Luke admitted and had he been alive, his ears could have flushed along with his cheeks. The bashful ghost struggled to meet your gaze, “I had-have this massive crush on you. I’ve had it since you called me your knight in shining armour-”

“When I sliced my knee open, and you carried me home.”

“I’ve never told anyone, but you’re kinda the reason why I started wearing no sleeves. The guys and us were watching a film, and you mentioned something about the actor’s arms.” Luke snickered with a smile that faded at your sheepish grin, “Oh my god, you knew.”

“Bobby let it slip, ‘I watched him cut the sleeves of his shirts, stitch the raw edges of the fabric, prick his fingers a ton, and he nearly broke my foot’”

“Yeah I almost dropped a weight on him.” Luke snorted, shuffling to lay his head to rest on top of yours. He’d quickly learnt in his mission to gain muscle for your attention that he liked the exercise. He continued to get in shape and grow some muscle, but he still wore sleeveless shirts for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Luke beamed at your words, “Nah, you’re the beautiful one.”

The rest of the date was everything you had ever wished for. Luke went above and beyond your expectations, even as a ghost. He’d packed a sweater to help you into when the night appeared, and the cold came. He held your hand on the way home and walked you straight to your attic door.

Luke didn’t push for a kiss either. He simply raised your clasped hand to press a lingering kiss on the back of your hand.

“Sweet dreams.” Luke murmured before he walked down the stairs. The euphoria ensuring he forget his ability to poof.

He wore the same lovesick expression into the studio where two ghosts waited for all the details. Alex and Reggie each buzzing in anticipation for their guitarist best friend.

In your room, you analyzed your feelings closely.

The guilt wasn’t as suffocating as you’d anticipated after going on a date that wasn’t with Peter. Just the guy that had been a reason your marriage with Peter wasn’t how it should have been. You also knew in your heart that Peter would want you to be happy and move on. In fact, in the last two years of your marriage, things had changed to just being two best friends married.

Your eyes met the window of your attic bedroom with a small smile. Your right hand slowly sliding the symbol of love from your finger. For the first time in a very long time, your wedding and engagement band left your hand.

“I’ll always love you, Peter Pevensie.” You murmured from your place in front of your dresser. The two rings slid into the old jewellery box where they would stay.

The only signs of your previous relationship status are just memories and a pale line on your ring finger.

Time to move on. Time to accept that Narnia was in the past and not in your future. Time to accept that Luke Patterson always had and always would hold your heart in his hands.

Tag List(s) PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!

Julie and the Phantoms Taglist

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @merceret @kexrtiz @biqherosix @lukewearingbeanies @dangersolns @soverignparker @omgdani17 @julessbrown

9-1-1 Taglist:

#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #peter pevensie imagines #narnia #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #julie and the phantoms imagines #charlie gillespie imagines #luke patterson #narnia imagines #charlie gillespie #peter pevensie #jatp au #jatp x narnia #caitsy and ash productions

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faunrasthewinterelf · 4 years

Text

Calm After the Storm Pt.2

And So it Begins

I’m actually excited for this? like I’m so nervous, but here we go! here's roughly 4047 words that ive written and agonized over for you Maribat lovers!

please let me know what you guys think!

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Marinette Cheng meets Richard (Dick) Grayson at the start of the tour of Wayne Enterprises. She’s outside, leaning against the tall form of Chloe Bourgeois, her best friend who had shot up like a damn weed in the past year, and trying her best to stay awake. While everyone else in the class had gotten to adjust to the time zone change, Marinette and Madame Bustier had gone over to the Martha Wayne Foundation building to settle the scheduling and award intricacies. She had also seen a photo of her biological paternal grandparents for the first time, which had been nice.

But today. Today was tiring and it wasn’t even 8:30 yet. It was cold, which isn't helping her attempts at staying awake, even though she had on a newer, thicker outfit, bundled up tight to ward off the cold that was seeping into her bones and irritating her side. Damn Ladybug Effects

Marinette was trying her hardest to leech the warmth from Chloe while the two waited for Lila ‘Oh, my ankle hurts, I must have twisted it!’ Rossi to limp her way off the bus. The rest of the class and Madame Bustier were all behind the liar. Which meant Marinette was in the cold, and THAT was commonly known as a bad idea at this point. Chloe was huffing as she kept an arm wrapped around Marinette’s looking ready to murder Lila. Listening to the Italian girls lies was a staple for their lives at this point, and Marinette couldn't help a sarcastic,

“And so it begins.”

Chloe snorted at that, wrapping her arm around her tiny friend’s shoulders, rubbing her back, before the blonde snarled at another shiver from Marinette, and just dragged the poor girl inside to wait.

Getting inside is a blessing, and as the warmth hits Marinette, she lifts her face away from where it was squished against Chloe’s arm to keep her nose warm.

Almost immediately, Marinette is digging through her bag for her small sketchbook to start jotting down ideas from the lobby alone. Chloe, on the other hand, starts fishing out the NDA’s the class had signed that morning from Marinette’s bag, and begins flipping through them to make sure that everyone’s was accounted for. The two girls settle into the couches by the entrance waiting for the rest of the class.

After a couple minutes, Lila walks through the door, (wow, her ankle is already better!), and smiles around at her surroundings, looking as if she just walked into a loved home rather than a building she’s never been to. Her eyes light up as she smirks, before turning to her loyal followers friends, and though Chloe and Marinette can’t hear what she’s saying, they can imagine.

Madame Bustier frowns at the two girls on the seats to the side as she approaches the front desk, but is quickly distracted by the secretary as the two begin discussing the tour, and its itinerary. Lila and her group have navigated to the other side of the lobby, away from Marinette and her friends, thankfully, but are talking loudly, interrupting people as they enter the building. From the corner of her eye, Marinette can practically see Adrien frowning in hers and Chloe's direction, can practically feel his disapproval.

Just as she is finishing shading in a particularly pretty flower in a planter, one of the elevators to her right dings. A rather tall man steps out, straightening his tie, a clipboard tucked under his arm. He looks to be roughly 6’2 and is dressed in a white button down tucked into plain black slacks, with a nice pair of black shoes. He glances over at their loud wayward class before spotting Madame Bustier and heading over to the secretaries desk to join her. Marinette nudged her friend, who looked up from the NDA’s, adjusting the Miraculous on her head as she looked up.

“Looks like the tour is starting soon,” the bluenette is already standing, slipping her coat off to drape over her bag. Chloe eyes their classmates, as if debating whether or not they actually would be starting soon and if it was worth standing up, before sighing and giving in, getting to her feet.

“Then let’s go give Madame Bustier her paperwork, she seems a bit frazzled about it missing.” and indeed she did. Their red headed teacher was shifting through her bag at a frantic rate, clearly worried about something. Marinette shook her head. Madame Bustier had asked Marinette to collect the files for her, she should remember that her class representative had them. The teacher had been foisting a lot of responsibility on Marinette this trip. Already, Chloe had to step in and help her unpack her bags after Madame Bustier had sent Marinette to sort out the rooms of the hotel, and then dragged her to the MWF Building as soon as the small class rep had handed out the room keys to everyone else, and had helped with the NDA’s earlier that morning.

Marinette took the file folder from Chloe as they walked over and she waited patiently beside her panicking teacher for a moment, before clearing her throat to catch Madame Bustier’s attention, holding out the folder for her to take.

“Oh, Marinette, thank you, I thought I had these with me!” Madame Bustier then spun around, handing over the folder, without checking inside, to the gentleman who had to be their tour guide. “Here you are Mr. Grayson, all the NDA’s, as requested! I must have left them on the table this morning!” she gave a charming smile before turning again, and hurrying over to the rest of her class to get everyone else's attention, leaving Chloe and Marinette with the tour guide.

As their teachers' voice rang out over her classmates, Marinette and Chloe shared a look between them. Chloe sighed as she followed after their teacher, and Marinette turned to the man beside her.

“Bonjour, my name is Marinette Cheng, are you the tour guide for today Monsieur…?” she smiled as she held out her hand which was quickly enveloped by his much bigger one,

“Richard Grayson Ms. Cheng! A pleasure to meet you, you’re the one who wrote the winning essay for the Martha Wayne Foundation right? Me and my family all read it! And yes, I am the tour guide today, we’re just waiting on your visitor badges, and then we’ll be on our way!” Richard’s smile was nearly overwhelming, the amount of words coming from him more so, but that wasn’t what had caused Marinette to freeze.

She hadn’t looked at any photos of the Wayne family since she heard about Cassandra Cain-Wayne’s adoption. Sure, she knew what they looked like, but that had been several years ago. Marinette hadn’t anticipated meeting her oldest adopted sibling so soon.

It was weird to talk with her brother Richard, without him knowing they were technically siblings. She shook the feelings off quickly, (years of an emotional terrorist did wonders for emotional control apparently) and allowed her smile to grow wider.

“Thank you Mr. Grayson! I hadn’t had much to do at the time, and the MWF scholarship to GU was worth the late nights! I’m flattered that you and your family liked it so much.” a box full of visitor IDs and lanyards were placed in front of them, and Marinette shot the receptionist, Ms. Keanes, a quick “Thank you!” before carrying them over to the class.

Chloe looked about ready for a nap as she watched over her class, all of them whispering to each other as Madame Bustier went over rules for the Tour. The red head seemed to be willfully ignorant of her class not listening as she spoke, and just smiled at Mr. Grayson as he and Marinette approached. Marinette shook her head as she began handing out the IDs, quick to snag hers and Chloe’s first, slipping both around her neck for the time being as Mr. Grayson began speaking.

She had to admit, her brother Richard seemed determined to give her class the best tour he could. He had notes and anecdotes on that clipboard of his, and he knew how to use them to get attention. Unfortunately, he just wasn’t as captivating as Lila, who had begun to spin another tale of ‘Oh, yes, I spent so much time in Gotham when i was younger that I’m practically a Gothamite! There’s this amazing restaurant nearby, we should go there for dinner tonight!’

By the time lunch rolled around and Richard had gotten the class into the cafeteria, he seemed to have lost most of his determination. Most of the class pushed past him, not even listening to his explanation about the Cafeteria, and his shoulders slumped as he stared after them. Marinette, who had been taking notes about as much as she could, felt a bit guilty for how he was being treated. Chloe had pulled out her tablet about a half hour into the tour and began working on MDC Business, and while Marinette knew Chloe had been listening, she had been focused on her work.

“Mr. Grayson? I’m sorry for my class’s behavior, they’re just, excited, to be in Gotham and haven’t quite gotten it out of their systems yet.” Marinette reached out to tap him on the arm as she spoke, gently prodding him until he looked at her. She gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I enjoyed the tour, there’s so much to learn, and I can’t wait to go to other floors after lunch! I’ve already jotted down several ideas in my sketchbook, so thank you!”

Richard smiled at her in thanks, eyes brightening a bit as he nodded at her, before fishing out his phone and turning away.

Marinette quickly linked arms with Chloe before walking into the large room, as she only needed space for her and Chloe, who had saved whatever proposal she had been going over as they searched. Once they found a good spot they went and joined the line for food. A few tables down from their spot, the class, who were back to loudly talking to each other and squealing about Lila’s ‘childhood sweetheart, I might be able to see him again! he took me to that restaurant I mentioned earlier as a date actually!’, and were all ignoring the looks that WE employee’s were shooting at them. Madame Bustier all but collapsed on a table for herself, and put in earbuds as she ate.

Marinette shook her head as she and Chloe walked past, getting into line for the small buffet style lunch available. Other employee’s were also entering the room, and while they did have an hour and half lunch, Marinette didn't want to wait too long and have to eat quickly. By the time the girls got their food of choice and sat down at the table they had spotted earlier, the line was quite long, and the rest of the class were at the end of it. They had a long wait.

Lunch passed in quiet, and for the most part she and Chloe just worked. Marinette on a commission Uncle Jagged had requested, one inspired by his hometown, and Chloe back to whatever she had been working on before. It was only interrupted by Mr. Richard Grayson asking to sit with them. He was picking at his food more than eating it, staring with furrowed brows at Madame Bustier and the rowdy class (It was an hour in and most of them had only just gotten food)

“Madame Bustier is of the opinion that they’ll settle down after today.” Her voice seemed to almost startle Richard, but he just turned to look at her, more confused as he asked,

“What? But, your class-”

“Bustier is next to useless when it comes to interventions. She probably won’t do anything about their behavior for a couple more days.” Chloe didn’t even look up from her work as she interrupted Richard, her scorn clear.

“Chloe”

“What, M? It’s true and you know it! She’s treating this more like a vacation than a class trip.” This time the blonde glances over at the teacher, who still had her earbuds in. “She’s not even watching her class! She hasn’t looked up from her Audio Book since she sat down, Mari. I know we're all legal adults and graduated at this point, but it's still a school trip, not a celebration over Hawkmoth’s defeat! We're in one of the most dangerous cities in America, the least she could do is check that all her students are behaving.”

Before Marinette could respond, Richard cleared his throat, drawing their attention to him before he asking,

“Who’s Hawkmoth? What do you mean ‘celebrate his defeat?’ That makes him sound like a supervillain.”

Marinette and Chloe look at each other, before Marinette turns back to her brother the tour guide.

“That’s because he was Mr. Grayson. How didn't you know about him? He terrorized Paris for four years? Mayura, his accomplice helped for roughly three”

Marinette knew it was due to a country wide media blackout and the French Government working with Paris’s governing body to suppress the news further to not put a damper on tourism, but surely something must have gotten out? After the JLE had decided to leave Hawkmoth to Ladybug and her team, she had figured they would at least issue a warning. Chloe chimes in with a tired voice, shoulders lowered and eyes blank,

“He would take control of someone and transform them into a monster using their own negative emotion, and in return, all they had to do was get the Ladybug’s earrings and the Black Cat’s ring. He did it by sending an Akuma, which is a corrupted butterfly, by the way, and they would possess an Item on the victim’s person. Ladybug and Chat Noir, and the others, had to locate and destroy the akumatized object so that Ladybug could purify it. There were normally 4 or 5 of them a week, though they got more frequent and powerful the month he was caught.”

“But, Thats- We would have known about it!” Richard seemed horrified, “The amount of damage that would have happened? Surely something would have gotten out!”

Marinette shook her head. “That's the thing Mr. Grayson, part of Ladybug’s powers, was that she could summon something she needed for the fight. When it was over, she could use her ‘Lucky Charm’ as it's called, to reset all the damage done by the akuma. The buildings got fixed, injuries healed, and many people who were killed were brought back.” She shared a small smile with Chloe,

“Hawkmoth was defeated earlier this year, just after school started. The Miracle Court took back his and his accomplices Miraculous, and both were placed into custody. Last I’d heard, Gabriel Agreste, Hawkmoth was given several life sentences, and Nathalie Sanceour, Mayura was in a high security medical facility for the damage her illness had done. The Court is staying active in Paris for the remainder of the year, but after, the JLE has asked them to either step down or leave Europe. They haven’t announced what they're going to do yet after the year is over.”

Before he could question the girls further, looking rather sour at something, Chloe’s phone alarm went off, meaning they had 10 minutes to clean up. Marinette quickly fished her phone out of her bag, and opened up the BugOut blog. Tilting her screen so Richard could see, she explained as best she could about it as Chloe cleaned up the table.

“This is the official Blog that was dedicated to Ladybug and her efforts. There's another one called the Ladyblog, but it's not the best anymore. Ladybug endorsed that blog for it’s professionalism and writing. It’s not active much anymore, but it’s got a good archive of everything, if you’re curious.”

He had opened his mouth to ask more questions, but then he froze. Marinette had flipped to a photo that showed a comparison of the Teams, and his eyes zeroed in on it. One shot of the current Court of Miracles, Ladybug, Testudo, Byakko, and Cheval Joli, one shot from two years ago with Ladybug, Chat Noir, Rena Rogue, Carapace, and Queen Bee, and finally, one shot from the very beginning, of Ladybug and Chat Noir stood awkwardly in frame.

Marinette shook her head,

“Ladybug and Chat Noir were the first, they were somewhere around 13 or 14 when they started.”

Marinette left him after that. She had garbage to sort out and a plate to return. The two girls waited at the same entrance they came in from, seated on the couches by the door, watching as the class got up at 3:00 on the dot, and left their plates stacked on top of the garbage cans like they were in a fast food place, not a famous Enterprises cafeteria. Madame Bustier and Mr. Grayson joined them shortly after, Mr. Grayson rubbing at his forehead as he walked up.

The second half of the Tour seemed to stretch on for a while. Marinette’s side was beginning to go taught, and she could already tell that a massage and some painkillers would be involved in tonight's bedtime routine. She almost regrets leaving Tikki in their hotel room, the little goddess always healed her in little bursts to help with the pain, but Tikki had been just as tired as Marinette this morning, and the cold was affecting the little Ladybug Kwami harder, so she had left Tikki bundled up near the heater for the day. Besides, Chloe had hers with her, and Akuma’s weren’t a thing they had to worry about. Marinette really hadn’t seen the harm in letting Tikki rest for the day.

While Mr. Grayson (Please, Ms. Cheng, just call me Dick, I promise it’s my nickname, and I honestly prefer it) was watching the rest of her class, he had given up trying to keep their attention, and was basically just speaking directly to Chloe and Marinette, both of whom were paying attention now. The Business and Legal areas were something of great interest to the girls, as they were working together to maintain MDC, Chloe with the business side, and Marinette with the creative side/designing. The class behind the two girls, still wrapped in their own little world, completely missed the looks they were still getting from employees as they passed by workstations and offices.

The only time Madame Bustier intervened was when Alya had a particularly loud outburst, all but shouting out a loud “WHAT?? GIRL YOUR DATING DAMI-” before getting cut off by a sharp “Alya!” from the teacher.

But Marinette hadn’t been paying attention to Lila, her side had escalated from tight to aching, and was now rubbing at her side as she walked, her notebook away and her arm linked with Chloe’s as she wrote, trying to focus more on what Dick was saying rather than the pain.

Of course, with how this bit of the tour was going, Dick had noticed. During a particularly ‘exciting’ bit in whatever lie Lila was spewing, he quietly approached the girls.

“Hey, what’s up Marinette, (then in that case, please, call me Marinette “or Mari” Or Mari, thank you Chloe) are you alright?”

It was startling, to be honest. Beyond Chloe, no one really ever noticed when she was in pain. It took her a second to respond.

“Yes, it’s alright, just, an old wound. It gets bad when it’s cold, and I’ve been walking a lot today.”

His worried eyes scanned over her, seeing how tense she was and how her hand didn’t stop doing small circular motions around the left side of her waist, just below her ribs, He was frowning, and his body screamed concern.

“Do you need a break? There’s a break area on this floor.” His voice was soft as he spoke, but, even though she was tired, getting a break or special treatment now would mean dealing with Lila and Alya later, even if would help with the pain.

“I’m alright, besides, there's barely an hour left, and then we're getting on a bus back to the hotel, I’ll be fine,” Marinette smiled, (was this what its like to have a sibling?)

“And I already made her take some of the Advil she carries with her” comes from the tall blonde next to her. Dick looks at them both like her wants to argue, eyes tight, before he nods.

“If you’re sure.”

Apparently, they weren’t taking a bus back to the hotel. Lila had convinced Madame Bustier to cancel the ride, and let them go to a nearby restaurant for dinner. Which meant the class would be walking back after. Marinette closed her eyes, rubbing at her side firmly as she listened to Lila, Chloe beside her, hip jutted out and arms crossed.

“My Damiboo took me there for a dinner date, it’s where he confessed! Oh it was so romantic, I would love to go eat there again!” her simpering was painful, she was even holding her hand to her chest like she was going to faint, but her other arm was entwined around Adrien’s, and her current boyfriend looked more bored than anything as she described her ‘childhood sweetheart’ As usual, the class was eating it up.

“Oh, Lila! That sounds so romantic!” Rose had her head against Juleka’s shoulder, a dopey grin on her face as she imagined the two on a romantic dinner date.

Alya had turned to Nino with a quirked eyebrow and a sly smile, “Why haven’t you done that to me huh?” before turning towards Madame Bustier.

“Please, may we eat there? It’d make Lila so loved, and she says the food is great! Who better to show us the good places than an honorary Gothamite?” Madame Bustier had already been nodding, happy to appease her class.

“Of course we can, It's not a far walk from here at all!” The class excitedly began chatting, but before they could all set out, Chloe finally intervened.

“Madame Bustier, we’re not supposed to eat out on Mondays, shouldn’t we head back to the hotel?” her words were met with silence, and she was quiet a moment, before continuing,

“Besides, Marinette’s side is beginning to hurt, she nee-”

A loud snort comes from Alya, who rolls her eyes. She looks Marinette up and down, scowling before biting out,

“Please, like she needs, anything! I can’t believe you think she was actually hurt! Everyone knows that Marinette's a bully Chloe, she’s just jealous of Lila, and lying for attention.”

It had been 2 years since she and Alya had been friends, but it still hurt when her old best friend said things like that. When Lila had threatened to take all her friends, Marinette hadn’t believed her. But here she was, all her friends gone, and the only reason she had Chloe at all is because they hadn’t been friends until Lila had everyone else on her side. Marinette and Chloe had sat together at the back of the class, and they’re neutral ‘ill watch your stuff if you watch mine’ had eventually become ‘well now I'd die for you.’ It was nice, having a friend in class again.

Lila, never one to miss a chance, hiccupped loudly before wrapping her arms around herself.

“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause trouble, I jus-just wanted to b-be reminded of my Damiboo! I Haven’t-t see-en him in so long!” By the end of it, she had full blown sobs going, and the class closed ranks around her, comforting her while glaring at Chloe and Marinette. Adrien was frowning at Marinette again, eyes almost furious as he glared, and Madame Bustier just sighed.

“Marinette, please, can’t you see Lila needs this? Can’t you take one of your Advil so that we can help Lila? Remember, All the Marinettes of the world?”

She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head, before agreeing. Chloe beside her started to protest again, but stopped when Mari put a hand on her shoulder.

“Alright Madame Bustier.”

“Thank you girls! Alright, Lila!” Madame Bustier clapped her hands a couple times, catching the classes attention,

“We're going to the restaurant!, Lila, why don’t you lead the way? I’m sure it’s lovely!”

Marinette was sure it was going to be hell.

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PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF THE TAG LIST DIDN’T WORK!

Now, anyone wanna guess what Miraculous Chloe has? I tried to give hints! or does anyone want to try guessing who Testudo, Cheval Joli, and Byakko are? both have already been Miraculous holders, and the names will be expanded on!

If any one has any questions I’ll elaborate with as little spoilers as possible, Thank you all so much for your encouraging words and kind comments!

TAGLIST: @ aestheticnpoetic @ kitsunebell @ superbwhispersconnoisseur @ thewitchwhowaited @ junarvion @ liawinchester67 @ woe-is-me0 @ dorkus-minimus @ i-am-on-wattpad-2 @ atramentias @ togetherwekill @ ramos123 @ anjuschiffer @ thecc11andme @ poodapup @ mochegato @too0bsessedformyowngood

#Calm After the Storm #part 2 guys #oof #Maribat #bio dad bruce wayne #marinette dupain cheng #miraculous fanfic #miraculous ladybug #batfam #Richard Grayson #omg im so excited #please expec sporadic updates tho

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: coward :: pretty girl Pairing: Y/N x Miya Atsumu Genre: angst, romance, and very slow burn [ex to lovers au] Warnings: Cursing, alchohol, mentions of unprotected sex, unplanned pregnancy, and mentions of abortion

Synopsis: : In which you finally meet the perfect girlfriend of Miya Atsumu and he starts to slowly accept the fact that whatever happened between you two is long gone (or is it?)

authors note:

here to give my thanks again, literally feels so surreal with how much love this story is getting despite the angst sjjsdjsjd i-

also ive released the prologue for my first ever smau! its a more lighthearted one compared to this one between sakusa and an older gn!reader, if you’re into that check it out here uwu

previous next masterlist

You’ve never actually seen Miya Atsumu and his girlfriend.

This was your first time today during Sugawara’s house party, Daiki had forced you to go and insisted that the three of them needed to have their manly bonding time (it actually only consisted of stuffing themselves with junk food and watching shounen animes), “...Also don’t you want to bond out with your ex-boyfriend that you chose over me? I’m hurt, I didn't know you like fake blonde volleyball players.” he fake-sniffled, in which you replied with an arched brow.

You didn’t know how he ended up knowing about Atsumu, you were expecting a talk from him but he simply shrugs it off and says, “No matter how much I tell you that you should tell him, you won’t listen. So I won’t bother wasting my breath, just know that you’re being selfish by denying these boys the right to have a father and you're denying that blonde shrimp to be a dad too.”

“Y/N-san, I’m surprised you came!” Sugawara grins.

“Daiki took charge of the kids.” You replied, fiddling with the keys in your hand.

“He looks very reliable.” the teacher exclaims, handing you a drink in which you completely deny because you weren’t very good with alcohol, “You guys would make a great couple!”

“Oh,” You voiced, you were very familiar with those words, many people had always thought you and Daiki would make a good pair. It was definitely a shock to many when they found out you were pregnant and that the basketball player was not the father despite being there most of the times, “I’ve never seen him that way.”

“He did mention that, he even openly confessed to Miya-san that he’s jealous of how he was your first boyfriend.”

You choked on your saliva, that fucking sly bastard-

“Anyways, make yourself comfortable! I have to go say hi to my old friends from college!” he exclaims, patting your shoulder. You immediately turn around to find Miya Atsumu cozying up with a beautiful girl in his arms.

Ah, that must’ve been the beautiful model with legs for days.

“You’re kind of staring.” comes a very familiar voice.

You want to roll your eyes but you decided against it, “I didn’t know you and Sugawara-san were close, Inunaki-san.” you greeted your annoying senior.

“Suga-san’s a friend to the whole team…” he grins, “Also, I’m just here to warn you that Osamu might be here later, he’s not as nice as Atsumu towards you.”

“You don’t have to remind me.”

“Come to think of it,” Shion Inunaki paused, tapping his chin in deep thought, “Atsumu still follows you around like a lost puppy. He’s been spending his off days with you instead of his girlfriend. I’m actually surprised he even brought her here today.”

“What are you implying?” You reply, feigning ignorance.

“Ah, L/N-san. I love how you still don’t care about my kohai’s feelings up till now.” He grinned, sarcasm oozing out of his sentence.

“Don’t be silly.” You glazed,“What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.” he turns to you, hand on his hip, “Even I don’t get why he’s so into you after all this time and the shit you put him through. He’s got someone better in front of him. Physical looks and emotionally speaking, Ri-chan’s a whole lot better than you… No offense…”

You knew he was rubbing salt to the injury but you couldn’t really bring yourself to argue with him, after all, he was right at the most part (you technically considered yourself as the big bad villainous ex in Atsumu’s life)

“You sound like those girls who used to threaten me back then when I was dating Miya-san.” You replied coolly, Inunaki even notices the amusement dripping in your tone, it's as if he hadn’t insulted you right at the face and called you a lesser being, “It’s almost pathetic.”

You ended up on the balcony right after, so much for trying to socialize, who were you kidding? It’s good you manage to escape the scene before Osamu could see you there, you couldn’t handle Inunaki and the grey-haired twin together. Thank god that Aran wasn’t around the area.

“Figured you’d be here.”

You turn to find the one and only source of all your problems these days, Miya Atsumu, you narrow your eyes in annoyance, “You should leave, people will get the wrong idea.” You simply replied, “I’m not in the mood to be in the middle of that.”

“I just came here because I wanted to apologize about that night with your brat.” the blonde casually leans against the doorway, “It was my fault for riling him up.”

“Yuuto has a temper, he’s more of his otosan than me.”

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“The bastard that you miss, those brats father…”

You tilt your head and press your lips together, surprised by his choice of words, “Special.” you openly-confessed as you gaze at the very man in front of you. Oh, the irony of it all.

How you wish it was that easy to let go of all your fears and anxiety, if you had told him six years ago about your pregnancy, would your life probably be different? What if you told him now? How would he feel?

“He’s lucky,” he admits, gaze fixed on you, “I mean - other than the part that he died - he was a lucky guy, Y/N.”

It dawned upon you that moment that this had been the first conversation you had with your ex that held no hatred, malice, or anger. He seemed to be slowly accepting the fact that you wanted to do nothing with him. Like you, he had no choice but to move on.

“ ‘Tsumu! What the fuck you moping around alone for up there? You got a girlfriend here!” Osamu calls down from below. You both snap back to reality at his brother's voice, “Guess that’s my cue to leave, I’ll see you around, Y/N.” he uttered softly and as he turned away, you suddenly spoke out.

“I’m sorry.” He freezes in place, somehow this apology seemed different than the rest, “I know I’ve said that a lot these past few weeks and that night but I want you to know that every apology was genuine. I just, I’m not very-”

“I know.” He suddenly turns to you, the very familiar and warm grin that you're accustomed to decorates his features and you feel like its that night in fall and you're back in college again, “I guess I was so wrapped up in wanting to get an emotion out of you that I hadn’t realized, it’s not you if you did that. You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

You feel your insides clamp and your lips tremble lightly, you feel the air turn heavy around you. How is that he was always the one pulling the strings and doing all the work between you two? How could he forgive you this easily?

“Don’t be silly.What feelings would there be but hatred?”

“It’s anything but that, L/N-san.”

“I’m proud that you’re trying hard for your kids though,” He chuckles, “Those brats are lucky they get to see all sides of you everyday.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.” you muttered, watching his figure walk away and vanish in the dark, leaving you all alone in the night of spring.

“...I now pronounce you husband and wife…”

You stare at your father and his new wife looking at each other with complete love and adoration, something you never saw when you were growing up. It sickened you to the point that you turn slightly pale and feel the bile on your throat rise. You watch them exit the church as sakura petals fall, the idea of a picture perfect wedding and happily ever after like the fairytale books you used to scorn when you were a child.

You loathed it.

He even had the audacity to invite you and your mother. She ended up not going and was probably drowning herself in cheap saki at home.

You sat at the back during the reception, along with the people who were not exactly ‘close’ to the bride-groom. You feel like an utter fool, why were you even here? You should’ve gone home or attended that stupid party and get stupid drunk with people you barely knew like your mother.

Yeah, that’s right.

You’d rather be there than here.

“Ah,” you hear a glass clink, you saw one of your dad’s friends stand up, ready to make a speech, “First off, I’d like to congratulate my friend. Finally!” laughter resonates throughout the room but you don’t follow suit, instead, you hold onto the wine glass tightly as if you don’t like where this was going, “I know how unhappy you were back then but ever since you met Yui-chan, your life seemed to have become better. I could never be more proud!”

You could feel yourself getting sicker by the moment, especially after you heard the words you dreaded to hear the most, “Let’s not make anymore mistakes shall we?” he jokes.

All you could see was red right after, grabbing your clutch on the table as you made a haste exit. Was this the reason he invited you? To shove it on your face that you were a mistake made?

That you shouldn't have been born?

You ended up breaking a heel and tripping on your own feet soon after, shakily, you adjust your posture and sat at the concrete for a few moments, trying to gather yourself but desperately failing, "I didn't… I didn't ask to be born too, you know?" You murmured to yourself bitterly.

You let it all out, it shouldn't have hurt to be called a mistake. You were an adult already for crying out loud! Yet when they toss that word around like it was nothing especially at that wedding, you feel like you're eight years old again and you're hearing your own mother curse at you for being born into this world, the harsh words she said were as clear as the day, "if you probably hadn't been born, we would've been happier. We'd have better lives, Y/N. So don't go around and cry and think you got it bad, you hear me? Your sadness is nothing compared to ours. It's nothing, Y/N. So stop being ungrateful."

You ended up at the frat house that night, people would occasionally glance at your disheveled state but you just downed the alcohol, ignoring their stares as usual and when you get a text from your mother asking why you left the wedding so early in such a manner, you feel the pent-up emotions bubbling within you again.

Blocking her number and taking one last swig of the cheap vodka in your hands, you head up to one of the rooms upstairs. You hold it all in well, you don't want to showcase such things to strangers.You feel the alcohol and emotion about to hit you when you open a door that you thought would be your safe space for the next ten minutes but you're immediately greeted by two people on the bed, ready to hit it off and have a good time.

"O-Oh sorry… I-Wrong room...” you stammered, lips quivering and small tears escaping since you couldn't hold it in anymore.You immediately bolted out the door, So much for sobering up and crying by yourself for ten minutes, you might as well call Daiki, maybe he was available-

“Hey! Y/N!” a very familiar and a very unexpected voice calls out your name on the quiet street.

You hesitantly turn only to find your project partner and classmate standing there, a bit out of breath as if he had just squeezed through the very crowded party in a hurry, you're confused by his actions. You weren’t exactly close? What was he doing?

“Hey.” he softly says, taking out a handkerchief from his pocket to hand it to you. You hesitantly look at it and take it from his grasp as you try to get rid of the runny mascara. You're taken aback by his kind actions so far, although he had always been nice and tried to make conversations with you, you weren’t exactly very participative and it had always been one-sided on his part.

When he suddenly stopped talking to you recently, you didn’t bother to initiate anymore because you didn’t want to get more involved with people like him. It’s not like he was a bad person, per say, he just had such a loud presence that made everyone stop and stare. You weren’t exactly a big fan of those kinds of people (save for daiki since you grew up with him)

“Come on, Y/N.” the blonde sighs, taking off his jacket to place it on you, “Let's take you home.”

"You don't have to."

"You look like shit, Y/N. I’m not takin' no for an answer" Atsumu points out forwardly, "Actually, before we head home lets disinfect that wound, yeah?"

"Miya-san, I-" you tried to tell him you were fine but he didn’t seem to be having it.

"Atsumu." He corrects, despite his forwardness and brash attitude, you know he means well, "You let me call you by your first name so please don't call me Miya-san, sounds fuckin weird coming from ya."

You're thankful that he doesn't pry or ask questions about why you looked like this. He just mumbles throughout your whole journey that you shouldn't wear heels when you can't even walk on them.You also start to notice the slight accent from his tone when he got annoyed by your insistence that you were alright, you had always thought that he was a city boy with the way he carried himself.

When you arrive at the drugstore, he pays for the necessities himself despite you protesting again and even buys you a sugar-free treat on top of that, "You said you were diabetic one time." He shrugs off as he lets you sit on the concrete steps.

“Oh,” You faltered, “You remembered.”

“It’s one of the few things you said. You don’t talk to me that much so it's not hard to remember the things you say.”

“Sorry.” You tried to apologize, brows furrowed in deep thought and the only reply you got was a gleeful laughter from the blonde setter.

“You don’t really mean that do you?” he observed but he didn't look insulted by it at all, instead he seemed amused by it, “Don’t sweat it, Y/N. My twin told me I could be an annoying shit at times.”

“No,” you mused, “Not at all, you’re not annoying.”

Atsumu stares at you right in the eye, his corners crinkling just a bit as the amused smile never leaves his features, you’re starting to like it when you see him smile that way, it reminded you a lot of the youth you craved for, the problematic-free youth that you wanted and wished, “Is it safe to say that you don’t mind my company?” he guessed.

“Well, you’re here now and I haven’t left you.”

He doesn’t reply, instead he bends down to your level and takes the antiseptic and band-aids from your hands. Before you could object, the setter dabs it on your wound and as you seethe quietly in pain, he blows on it. You’re getting more and more perplexed by his actions tonight especially with the words he says next, “I may not be close with you to know what happened tonight but I hope I made you feel a little bit better, Y/N.”

The next time you see the professional volleyball player is at work,You’re tasked to send out some documents to your boss again and it just so happens they’re wrapping up the shoot for the advertisement at the studio.

Something’s different now.

After your little talk with him at the terrace, the air around you doesn’t feel tight, your anxiety around him seems to decrease, and your feet doesn’t get cold anymore. Of course, Inunaki would throw in a jab or insult but you took it like a good sport and didn’t bother with him.

“Ah, L/N-san! How are the boys?” Hinata jumps up and down excitedly as he sees you enter the studio, you still couldn’t get used to this big (small) bundle of energy.

“They’re doing fine, Hinata-san.”

“Oho, L/N-san, you’re looking better these days.” Inunaki teased, you gave him a brief nod and just ignored the jab, Atsumu slaps his seniors back in retaliation, “You’re not the one she broke up with Inu-san.” he joked, “Hey L/N-san.”

“Miya-san.” You greeted.

“Does Yuuto still want to skewer me like a kebab?”

“He feels sad that he wasn’t able to say sorry to you before you left.” You replied, a hint of amusement laced on your tone as you recalled Yuuto frowning on the dinner table the night before because Sugawara had informed the club members that Hinata and Atsumu wouldn’t be visiting as much because training was about to start.

“Shame, wanted to see that brat say sorry too.” He let out a grin, your conversation is cut short though when a new presence joins the room.

“Oh, Riku-chan!” Inunaki calls out.

You lick your dry lips as you see the very beautiful and tall raven-haired woman approach you, wow, Miya Atsumu outdid himself with this one. You recalled her being on Vogue magazine once and on tv a few times as a fashion model of an underwear brand.

“Oh, hey babe.” Atsumu greets, you note how stiff he became. He probably thought this would be an uncomfortable situation. The woman, unlike you, was very open with her affection. She gave him a brief kiss on his jaw.

Hinata greets her and you’re left wondering if you should excuse yourself before you could make Atsumu more uncomfortable by your presence but Inunaki, being an asshole, decides to make the choice for you, “L/N-san, this is Miyazaki Riku! I’m sure you know her, she’s a supermodel!” he introduces you to her.

“Good day.” You greet the model.

She tilts her head slightly, “Have we met before? You look very familiar.”

“She was my kohai back in Uni and Atsumu’s classmate!” Inunaki grins, patting your back, you hold back a glare since you didn’t want to make it more awkward than it was.

“Oh?” she chirped, immediately letting go of Atsumu’s hand, she grabbed onto yours, “What was he like? I bet he was so cool and chic back then too!”

Chic and Cool?

Memories of a rather clumsy and corny Miya Atsumu in college slowly wormed its way to your head and out of nowhere, you burst into a low chuckle. Inunaki was startled by the sudden reaction and Atsumu feels his insides mush up when he hears that very rare sound, “Yeah,” you croaked, shortly after recovering from your small laugh, “Definitely chic and cool.”

“That’s so cool! I definitely want to hear stories about you back in college, baby!”

“Maybe some other time,” you voice is back to its smooth and cool tone, realizing that you needed to leave from this uncomfortable conversation and start your job, “I have to finish up my work here and get home early.”

“That’s a shame, I could definitely tell you guys were close.” a frown tugs her lips as she notices how quick you were to say goodbye to her, “Bye, L/N-san!”

After that rather dry and one-sided enthusiastic conversation, you finish your work quickly and Daiki messages you just in time that he and the boys would pick you up, you say your goodbyes to your director, the staff, and the volleyball team. You don’t notice the lingering gaze of Atsumu as you left nor do you notice Inunaki telling him that he’s got his girlfriend right in front of him and he shouldn’t look your way.

They shortly wrap up right after and they’re ready to go home. After deciding that they’d all grab a good meal together (much to sakusa’s dismay), Atsumu feels his mood lighten up as they exit the studio to see you standing there along with Yuuto, unwrapping his onigiri. As he’s about to call the brat to talk to him and even drop in to say hi to you, he sees a familiar tall figure emerge from the convenience store with Youta in his arms.

The blonde decides against it.

“...You always had trouble expressing yourself naturally to people after all.”

He watches the interaction from afar and notes how easy it was for the man to interact with you, he even catches on an amused smirk from you as the man tries to tell you a joke, “Is that L/N-san?” he hears Riku ask, “I didn’t know she had a family, that’s so cute!”

Atsumu doesn’t really know what to say as he watches the domestic scene unfold in front of him, he was trying to move on, wasn’t he? Yet why can’t he look away?

“Baby? You alright there? You’ve been staring at the empty space for a while.” Riku calls out, sounding a bit worried as she snaps him out of his daze. You were already gone, probably far off with that scrub and the brats.

“I’m good.” he tried to affirm himself, wishing it was true, “I’m good.”

taglist [closed]

@fortheloveofiwaizumi ; @svtbitch ; @kiyoomile ; @lovedanii ; @juno-multifandom ; @gyubit17 ; @saeranoppa ; @nixxona ; @kyomihann @shorttstackk ; @intoomuchfandoms ; @yammmers ; @mx-minxx @itsmattsunshinehere ; @missingmystogan ; @volleybloop ; @imcravingyou ; @yams-wants-that-booty ; @liathachcapricious ; @pinknugget @seikamuzu ; @marigoldthoughts ; @sillykittt ; @baejinoffcl ; @alluring-akaashi ; @bnhasstuff ; @jungshookmeup ; @intheawks ; @bokuakadaily ; @agaassi ; @yams046 ; @dope-squish ; @chrisrue15 ; @vermillionwaves ;

@misosamu @Etherynaw @ryaaaax @differentballooncollection @keniloveshaikyuu @allysasteaparty [hi, i can’t seem to tag u guys, i think you need to open your tags uwu]

#haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu angst #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu scenarios #miya atsumu fanfiction #atsumu x reader #atsumu imagines #miya atsumu

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cherrysha · 4 years

Text

The Chase

Hey! First post on this blog and its something I’ve never actually written before! Its Yandere Hisoka because I just rlly have a soft spot fr evil bastards. I want to write a lil more on this one buuut ive got sum other baddies i need to write for first. Since its my 1st time writing a yandere fic feedback is rlly appreciated <3

My requests are open atm

Warnings: Blood, a lil spit, Choking, Yandere themes, violence, slapping, crying, uhh Hisoka being a pervert but thats expected

word count: 1,600

18+ crowd here, minors get blocked.

Part 2 here

It didn’t take you long to understand why you were told to stay away. To be exact, it only took you three seconds.

“You know why no one has ever collected Hisoka’s bounty y/n?” your boss asked you after taking this mission.

Judging from his face you could tell the question was rhetorical. You rolled your eyes, waiting for him to finish his little lecture. “No one is stupid enough to walk into their own funeral. If you take his bounty you might as well pick out your own casket first, assuming you even have a body left to bury when he’s done with you. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave this one alone.” And with that, you left slamming the door behind you. No matter how many bounties you collected, it seemed like he just never gave you credit. It was just like him to underestimate your capabilities.

What a fool you were.

That’s all it took. Three seconds and he had already sensed you. Even though you concealed your nen, even though you were a rooftop away, even though you took every single fucking precaution you knew, it did you no good. As you peered through your binoculars at him you were met with Hisoka’s full gaze, a sly smile spreading across his face. You felt it then, your hair standing on end, a sickening feeling in your gut. No, you hadn’t just walked to your funeral, you had sprinted.

You were running before you could even comprehend what happened, feet hitting the pavement as you tried to get as far away as possible. There was no time for you to be shocked, if his bloodlust was any indication of his power, you were as good as dead. There was no use in using any energy to try and conceal yourself now. He knew exactly where you were.

“I’ve got to be honest, you are definitely not what I expected…” Hisoka’s voice whispers into your ear. You faltered, your feet tripping over themselves as you felt the warmth of his breath on your neck. You couldnt hide the shock you felt that he had been able to catch up to you in such a short amount of time. Not many people could, and you had a head start. He lets you run anyway; his urge to murder you overpowered by his sudden desire to see you try to escape. No, he was going to savor this one. Hisoka always loved playing with his food and the way your heart was pounding was just too enticing.

You intrigued him, if he was being honest with himself. The chase had lasted longer than he had imagined. Any other bounty hunter would have stopped and tried to fight him by now. No, he could tell you were a smart one, you knew better than that. Hours of running had led to this moment and, oh, was he going to relish in it.

After what seemed like forever, you finally hit the dirt, spluttering as your body gave out due to exhaustion. Such a weak little thing. And to think you truly believed you could take him on. It was laughable. The chase seemed as if it were over, Hisoka sighed, giving up on his hopes of toying with you even more. At this point he knew he might as well finish you off. He didn’t like playing with broken things, and right now there was no way you would ever be able to take him on. His eyes lingered over you, and something in him hesitated as he glanced at your crumpled form lying in the dirt, chest heaving with exhaustion. Hisoka’s gaze wandered over your body. He couldn’t help the smug smile that crept onto his face with how wrecked you look. Clothes grimy and tattered, bloody arms and legs from branches hitting your delicate skin. The sight alone made his mouth water. As you laid there and finally caught your breath his resolve to kill you started waning. But the thought of watching you try to run again sounded so boring. Both of you knew there was no point. Before he could jump down and finish you off, you spoke for the first time since his little chase started.

“There’s no point in hiding up there. I’m not stupid enough to believe I’ve gotten away.” Once he heard the lilt in your voice, he knew he wanted you. The twinkle that was still held in your dry throat was his undoing. How could someone run from death for hours and still sound as angelic as you did? He needed to know, he needed to hear more.

Your first good look at him was when he finally jumped down. Lithe and nimble, landing on his feet like a cat. He seemed well built, albeit his fashion sense was more than off-putting. “So perceptive…To think someone as smart as you would try to murder me. You should know better.” he chastised, circling you as you shifted into a kneeling position. This was it, twenty plus years on this earth just to go out in a single second. You sighed, it came with the job. You knew the risks. Now was no time to hold a pity party. “Can you make it quick? I promise you I’d rather die than hear you drone on and on about how foolish I am.” You didn’t look at him, instead you held your head down and waited. The chuckle he let out was low in his throat, almost imperceptible if you hadn’t been in the quiet of the forest. Surprisingly, his voice was still calm and collected as he smiled down at you “And what if I don’t want to do that? I don’t think you’re in a position to be making any orders little girl.” you held in the anger you felt bubbling to the surface, knowing that it would only serve to amuse him further. He wanted a reaction out of you, wanted to rile you up so killing you would be even more fun for him. You bit your lip, trying your hardest to resist the urge to punch his stupid face in.

Hisoka drew closer, bending down until you flinched away “Would you like to live?” he whispered, lips ghosting against your ear. His proximity sent a shiver down your spine, as if your body could sense how dangerous he was. “I’m not going to beg for my life Hisoka. You might as well end it now.” He groaned at that. God, did he love the sound of your voice saying his name. it felt as if he could live off of it alone. His fingers slowly traced your jaw until he reached your chin, pushing it up so he could finally get a good look at your face. “You’re a proud little thing aren’t you? No matter, I’m positive your defiant attitude will dwindle with time.” Your breath hitched at his last words. No, He wasn’t going to torture you if you could help it.

The anger was building up in your chest and you couldn’t help yourself when his face was just mere inches from yours. You spit, but that only managed to make his grin grow wider. Even though his demeanor seemed calm, his aura showed the opposite. Long nails dug into your skin as he gripped your jaw tight, blood seeping from the fresh puncture wounds. This time the laugh was audible, amusement in his eyes making your stomach curl. You werent given enough time to react to it for long, however. He lifted you off the ground by your throat, loving the way your hands instinctively curled around his arm. So soft and warm, so easily breakable. He wondered how long it would take to pull you apart piece by piece. Wondered how you’d look at him once he put all your pieces back together.

This was it; this was exactly what you wanted. A swift death. You closed your eyes again and waited as your airway was slowly constricted by Hisoka’s large hand. If you had kept them open, you would have seen the way he swiped your spit off of his cheek, sucking his fingers into his mouth and indulging in his first taste of you. His groan was mixed with a small whine this time. He wanted more; He needed more. His first taste and he already knew he would never get enough of you.

Meanwhile somewhere in the back of your mind you were amazed at how strong he was to only lift you with one hand, but you pushed it away. What a silly thought to have right before you die. of course he was stronger than you. Instead you tried to focus your mind on something better, something sweet. The sky right after a storm, the pond near your house with dozens of colorful fish, the feeling of your warm bed. Everything was going to be okay. You relaxed, letting the last of your breath go.

But within a split second he had dropped you, laughing as your body thudded against the ground. “Such an interesting little creature … A lot smarter than I gave you credit for. You already know just how to push my buttons don’t you sweetheart?” Gasping for air, you lay back in the dirt and allowed the tears to flow freely down your face and into the packed soil beneath you. You had been so close to cutting it short, so close to dying with at least a shred of your dignity left. To cry while on death’s doorstep was shameful, but it didn’t matter. It wan’t like you could hide them once the torture started. Might as well lose your pride now, there wasn’t anything you could do. You were entirely helpless.

Hisoka saw it, the slump in your shoulders as the tears streaked through the grime covering your face. Those tears, he had to make sure that he was the only one who ever saw them. You were crying for yourself now, but once he got you home the only tears he wanted you to shed would be for him. From the pleasure he gave you. No, no one else could see them. They were his, you were his. He was determined to make you see, no matter how long he had to drill it into your stubborn head. The things he was planning on doing … he needed to ruin you.

Hisoka lifted you up by your neck again, but this time his grip was loose enough to allow you to breath. His hand came to your tangled hair, combing through before harshly yanking backwards only stopping once your face was mere inches from his own. You closed your eyes, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to see the evil lurking just beneath the surface. Hisoka sighed, “Open your eyes for me darling.” You shook your head as best as you were able to with his grip still firmly in your hair. You couldnt trust yourself to speak, fearing your voice would crack and show just how weak you were.

An audible crack echoed in your ears as Hisoka slapped you, biting back his moan at the whimper you let out. “Love, it’s impolite to close your eyes when I’m trying to speak to you. I thought my suggestion was enough, but if I have to use force then so be it.”. Fresh tears flowed as you stared at him, biting back your sobs as best as you could. You watched his yellow eyes flick to your cheek, smile widening in satisfaction at what he saw there. He tilted you impossibly close, licking up a trail of tears that marred your swollen and dirty face. “So sweet” he groaned, letting his head rest against yours. “And all mine.”.

#yandere hisoka #hxh hisoka #hisoka x reader #yandere hisoka x reader #hxh #yandere x reader #hisoka morow #The chase

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callmeelle22 · 3 years

Text

Blue Dream VII

Pairing: Iris West x Barry Alen

Rating: E

Chapter Word Count: 9, 034

Summary: A series of sporadic dates between Iris and Barry turn into something more, a story in its own making.

Chapter I: Primetime

Chapter II: It's Cool

Chapter III: Anything

Chapter IV: Comfortable

Chapter V: The Way

Chapter VI: Say Yes

Chapter VII: Brave; They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way. (Read below or on AO3 linked on the chapter title.)

Chapter VIII: Blue Dream

Brave

Broken hearts are made for two

One for me and one for you

Tell me have you heard the news

We are now in love

Fall break from school is scheduled during the last three days of the last week of October. Before she can take some time off, Iris has midterm articles to write and grade. Barry is busy testing DNA samples or whatever it is CSIs do so they don’t see each other for several days after he leaves her house the morning after Wally’s party.

On the Wednesday of Fall Break, the first day off, Iris lets herself sleep in until almost 10, and then she packs up her bag, stuffing a notebook, a couple of pens, and her laptop in, before dressing comfortably in a pair of dark leggings, and a white oversized CCU hoodie she stole from her brother. Throwing on a pair of white low-top Chuck Taylors, Iris heads out to Jitters. It’s a rainy day, and other than workers who’ve no choice, not many people are out. A storm is brewing for later in the night, the sky dark and cloudy, but for the moment, it’s just a steady rain that has Iris walking carefully to her car and driving a lot slower, thanking her lucky stars that she finds a parking spot right in front of the coffee shop.

Back in high school, especially once her dad had gotten her a used car during the beginning of senior year, Iris and Linda would come to Jitters to do homework or stare at the college boys who would come in. The coffee shop has expanded since then, buying the small antique store that had been next door and adding more seating and a bar that specializes in alcoholic coffee brews. It’s still one of Iris’s favorite places to work because now the manager is a young Black woman with wild curly hair always dyed in one bright color or another and a soft spot for mid to late 90s R & B female singers. The shop is comfortable, with couches and overstuffed chairs in mismatched browns and beiges and blues set up near the walls and windows and several tables, two- and four-tops, taking up the space in the middle. Two of the walls are exposed brick and the others are painted stark white and feature framed prints in wild colors. It’s changed since she was a child, but Iris likes to think that she’s changed with it, that as this integral part of Central City has grown and added light and color and comfort, so too has Iris.

Today, her plan is to outline at least two entire stories from interviews she’s completed over the last couple of weeks before she even thinks about leaving the coffee shop. She settles into one of her favorite spots, a soft navy armchair behind a small circular table. She sets up her laptop, her notebook with her notes, her pens, and once a waiter drops off her brown sugar latte and a chocolate muffin, she lets the sound of the rain, and the Erykah Badu playing on the speakers, get her into her work.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Iris looks up just as Barry stops beside her. She’s been at Jitters for just over three hours now, and her shoulders are cramped and she’s coffee high and hungry. The rain is still pounding down, so hard that it looks like it’s raining sideways, and Iris curses her inability to get any work done in her own home. Besides all that, she’s reeling. She’s just outlined a story of a man explaining the story of the woman he’d loved his entire life: from growing up together in a small city in North Carolina, to becoming best friends and de facto siblings when his parents died and her dad agreed to foster him; from not dating but seeming like it in high school, to falling for other people in college; from having other spouses and children to one night of passion before they found their way back to each other when she decided to leave her husband after his wife died. It was a ride from start to finish, such a roller coaster of feelings—of love and pain and joy and heartbreak—that make Iris feel a bit heavy with them, a little loopy with them.

Barry stands to the side of her, towering above her, in as simple an outfit as what she’s wearing, a pair of black joggers and a white sweatshirt. She’s startled that he's there because she figures that he should be at work, but her heart does tick up at the sight of him. That is, until she lets her eyes rake over his lean frame. He looks a little...down, like a physical manifestation of the story she’s just outlined. His hair is messier than usual and his eyes aren’t carrying their usual sparkle, in addition to the darkening bags that frame them. He’s also a little stubbly, his jaw covered in a fine layer of coarse hair, his pallor a bit ashen.

(Iris will also admit that she thinks he looks sort of, well, good, like this; but that’s neither here nor there and she feels terrible—and maybe a bit perverted—that she’s lusting after him when he’s obviously going through something.)

“Hey,” she responds softly, and she stands up to assess him further. He seems so much taller than her like this, when they’re both in sneakers. She hasn’t seen him since the morning after Wally’s party a week ago when he dropped her back off at her car after spending the night at her place. They’ve talked a bunch and FaceTimed once, but she’s missed him. She reaches up into his hair, rubbing at his scalp a little until his eyes close and he lets out a soft little moan. She keeps at it and then touches gingerly at his face, at some of the moles dotting his cheeks, at the stubble he’s grown. He reaches up to stop her, eyes still closed, and it startles her a little bit. She goes to pull her hand back, but then he holds on to her wrist to bring her hand down and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

She’s never seen him like this. He’s always so open and, maybe not happy, but never so melancholy. There is always a pep to his step, as her grandma used to say, a smile on his face that always said that he feels some sort of contentment in his life. And obviously, people are allowed to have days like this. But it does something to Iris, to see him this way. She wants to lash out at whoever has made him look like this, like he’s drowning in emotions that he can’t easily pull himself out of.

“Bear, you okay?”

He nods, a little woefully, and he catches her eyes again. She bites at her lip as she stares back at him and, on impulse, she leans up to kiss him. It’s just a little more than a peck, something to tell him that she’s there with him; but he takes it a step further, kissing her harder, biting at her lip enough that there’s more pain than she’s expecting. She moans at him and he pulls back, breathing labored.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she says. “You didn’t hurt me. Well, a little, but I didn’t hate it.”

That gets a more real smile out of him, and he thumbs at her bottom lip. “Hmm, I guess my good girl is a little bad.”

Iris rolls her eyes and gives him a look, sobering for a minute. “Bear, what’s up? You okay?”

He doesn’t answer her question. Instead, he nods at her table and asks, “you get a lot of work done?”

She eyes him, wanting to ask again. But she knows how she is when she doesn’t want to talk about something and so she lets it go. For the moment.

“Yeah. Or, at least, I’ve done most of what I set out to do.”

He nods, casts his eyes out of the glass, looking at the rain for a moment, watching it fall in heavy sheets. Normally, Iris likes the rain. It’s soothing and she enjoys how it makes the world take a moment to slow down. When she was a little girl, her grandma (her dad’s mother who grew up somewhere at the bottom of Georgia) used to say that when it was raining, and particularly when it was storming, that the Lord was doing His work and that it was the time to be still. They’d have to sit quietly, usually with the TV and the lights off, and just be. And while life doesn’t allow her to drop everything because it’s started raining, there is always a hushed feeling that comes over her when it rains, something tranquil, but also a little turbulent, a little uncontrollable, quite like the very rain she’s reveling in.

“Wanna come over?” he wonders, voice unsure.

She nods readily. “Okay, yeah. Sure.”

He goes to return her mug and plate while she packs her bag back up. He meets her at the door, opening up a large umbrella and throwing an arm over her shoulder to lead her out into the rain. She walks with him past her own car as he takes her a short black away to where his Jeep is parked. He helps her into the Jeep first, watches as she tucks her bag under the seat, and then closes the door before walking around to the other side.

They ride to his house in silence. He lives far on the south side of town, a good twenty or so minutes from downtown if they hit the highway. Instead, he takes the streets, adding another ten minutes to their drive. Iris doesn’t mind; as she said, she likes the rain, and in this big Jeep, tires sluicing easily through the flooding roads in a way her car definitely can’t, she’s enjoying the ride. He had silently connected her phone to his car’s Bluetooth, so she took it to mean that the music choices were hers. She contemplates finding something that he might like, but she figures he likely wouldn’t even be paying much attention. So she decides on one of her slower playlists, ones with songs that dip and fade, that take listeners on a journey of highs and lows, and she lets it play. The lyrics tell too much, so i guess that i should mention; that i am in no condition; to put you in this position; i might fuck this up, although with the heavy weight on Barry’s shoulders right now, she can’t tell if she’s talking to him or vice versa.

He takes them past one of the major shopping districts in the city, past the Apple store and the Michael Kors shop and the one restaurant her dad took her to when she graduated college where pasta dishes run nearer to forty dollars. These shops, and the nicer mall and a couple business buildings that rise as tall as those downtown, lead into longer stretches of road where trees interspersed with beige or cream apartments begin to take up where businesses once stood. He turns into the familiar subdivision that she remembers; it’s a little older than some, which makes sense if his parents were able to buy and pay it off before they were gone. That also means that none of the houses are the same cookie-cutter versions that tend to make up most subdivisions these days, where houses are identical save for the color and the trim and what children’s toys litter the front yard.

He presses a button on his visor and the garage opens as he maneuvers the car so that he can back up into the driveway. He stays in the driveway, though, the music cutting out—but whatever the case, you're my favorite mistake; more than happy to make you—when he turns the ignition off. She waits for him to come around with his umbrella and he half picks her up to pull her out, holding on to her as he walks her through the garage.

She’s as quiet as he is, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a better sense of who he is by what he’s got going on in his house. There isn’t much in the garage; there are a bunch of boxes neatly stacked on one wall, a couple bicycles in another corner. There is a wall full of tools and a couple tables that have science looking tools on them, like a microscope and several bunsen burners and petri dishes, though nothing looks as if they’re currently being used.

He leads her through a door that opens up into the kitchen as he presses another button to close the garage. His house is as cute on the outside as it is on the inside, although she wonders how he might feel if she were to call it cute. The kitchen is large, done in white, gray, and green, with steel appliances, gray marble countertops, and the look of a place that doesn’t get a lot of use. They both stop to toe their shoes off right outside of the kitchen where a couple other pairs of Barry’s shoes lie. His living room is pretty big: a wide space that features a real stone fireplace as the focal point and a large screen television situated above it; a huge sectional in a slate gray with a few throw pillows; and a big square wooden coffee table. It’s masculine and clean without being gaudy or too bro and Iris wonders if he did this himself because even if she never knew her, she doubts a woman who loved flowers as much as his mother would decorate her living room this way.

The dark curtains on the windows are open wide and Iris can see the backyard but the rain coming down in sheets keep her from being able to make out much besides the patio with what looks like a grill and wicker furniture. Iris remembers being told that his dad had been a doctor and his mom some sort of university researcher and the house matches that.

Barry lets her hand go to tug his sweatshirt off, revealing a plain white t-shirt that rises up over his taut belly. She doesn’t avert her eyes, giving herself permission to track how the sweatpants hang off his slim hips and how he isn’t so much sculpted as he’s hard and tight, with just the beginnings of abs. He catches her staring and he smirks at her before dropping down in the corner of the couch, one leg spread out along the seats of the chair.

“Come here,” he tells her, and she moves toward him, sitting so that her back is pressed against that hard chest and his arms are wrapped around her. She grabs a hold of his forearm with both her hands and settles her head in the crook of his elbow. She’s surrounded by his scent, lemongrass and clean cotton, and for a while, the only sounds are his breathing and the pounding of the rain. He touches her, the hand she’s not holding on to stroking up and down her thigh. Her leggings are pretty thin and she feels his touch fully; if she concentrates enough, she can feel those beloved calluses on his hands. He rubs his hand towards the juncture of her thighs and then over her hip and then back again, and like always, his touch ignites something in her, even as she’s wondering how she might be able to help him out of whatever funk he’s found himself in.

“You ready to tell me what’s up?” she wonders a while later.

“Hmm,” he hums, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Not yet. Tell me about your day.”

She shifts so that she can look back at him, noting the way his eyes have darkened a touch, become grayer like the sky outside, and it’s different from the bright blue-green she remembers from the day of the festival or the wicked blue-gray they always are right before he pushes hard into her.

He blinks down at her and licks his lips slowly. It’s not an explicitly sexual act, even if her body thinks it looks that way, and Iris finds herself lost in it, in whatever he’s emanating. It’s erotic in that it’s intimate, a whirlwind of whatever hurt made him seek her out at Jitters, of whatever still lies unexplored between them, of the attraction that doesn’t ever seem to dissipate.

When she pulls herself out, she tells him, “I was working on a story today. One that made me feel a little bit like how you might be right now.”

“Yeah?”

Wanting to look at him more comfortably, she uses his pause so that she can turn around fully and seat herself on his lap, straddling him. His hands automatically go to her hips, one sliding inside the waist of her leggings so that he can touch her skin.

“Tell me about this story,” he requests. She knows that he’s asking so that he can think about something other than what’s on his mind, so she does, giving a little more than she would originally, working out how she might want to tell the story in her blog.

“It was a couple,” she starts, “that grew up together, in the country. They bonded by playing together in the lake, climbing trees, and playing pranks on each other. And then they start to grow up. Their swimming becomes fraught with tension, the bathing suits showing the same skin, but more, ya know, both of them recognizing the differences, cataloging them, thinking about them, remembering them. They don’t act on it, because they’re friends, and he doesn’t actually understand what it means, that he’s 13 and he keeps dreaming about her at night, waking up with a wet bed and a pounding heart. And then his parents die and her dad, who’s a do-gooder in the community and had been his parents’ best friend, takes him in. Now they’re siblings, but of course not. Regardless, it makes it all harder and odder because she sleeps right down the hall from him, their shared bathroom always smells like her, and he understands now, that he likes her smile and the way she speaks and the curves she seems to develop out of nowhere.”

Barry squeezes at her and she pauses as he asks, “And what about her? How does she feel about him?”

“Well he doesn’t know it, but she’s there too. At first she thinks that she’s just conflating it, confusing their friendship. Because she doesn’t laugh with anyone else like she does with him and she never has as much fun with anyone else as she does him and she never feels as comfortable with anyone else as she does him. He’s her best friend. But she sees him, one night, in his room where the door hasn’t fully closed and he’s, well, he’s masturbating, touching himself, eyes closed and moaning, and for the first time outside of the books she’s read, she feels something. And she knows it’s not just because she’s seen him naked because she’s kissed boys before, she’s felt them hard under her before, but something about this feels different for her.

“But she doesn’t act on it. And he doesn’t either, because remember, he only thinks this is one-sided. They graduate. They go to the same college. But their majors are different and their friends are different. She joins a sorority; he gets into a couple of clubs. Their paths separate, even if they still laugh and talk and be when they’re home for the holidays. Then she gets a boyfriend.”

“She never had a boyfriend before this?” Barry questions.

Iris shrugs. “Sure. But it was high school and the beginning of college. They were mostly hookups that didn’t last. This guy is serious. He’s a couple years older, got his own place, and eventually she moves in with him. Heartbroken, he gets a girlfriend too, one of her friends. That doesn’t last long because she figures out that he’s a little bit in love with the main girl, and then he moves on, to someone sweet, someone who’s been not so subtly hinting that she wants to go out with him.”

Barry seems to be engrossed now. She can’t say that the dark look he was sporting is completely gone, but she can see that he’s not as deep in it, interested in the story she’s weaving.

“They go on to marry these people, even if their hearts are not fully in it. His wife has a kid first, her baby comes next. And meanwhile, they’re still friends. Her dad is still his guardian, so to speak; they are together for whatever holidays they don’t spend with their spouses’ families. They still laugh and talk and be. They still look a little too long and want a little too much.

It comes to a head one Christmas. The gods or fate or just some movement on their parts mean that they both go home to her dad’s house with their spouses and children coming in the next day. But her dad is called in to work so they order take out and watch movies in front of a fire. And they laugh and they talk...and they hug and they kiss and they…

“Be?” Barry tries, a tiny little smile on his face.

She matches it. “Yeah. And it’s beautiful, transcendent. But they’re married. To other people. With kids. So they vow to forget it, to never bring it up again. A couple of years pass. They don’t laugh as much, don’t talk as much. She’s having troubles in her marriage. He is too. He actually consults a divorce attorney because he thinks that it’s unfair to both him and his wife, to live like this. And then the wife dies in a car accident.”

“Oh damn,” he mutters.

“Right,” she agrees. “He’s wracked with grief and more than a little guilt, because he loved her but was never in love with her and she had no idea he was going to leave her.”

“What about her? The one he loves?”

“She’s there for him. She consoles him, cares for him, takes his kid when it gets too hard. Her husband doesn’t like it though. Thinks she’s doing too much, thinks that there’s another reason she’s over at his so much. Later, he learns that this wasn’t a new accusation, that even before she and her husband got married, the husband would question their closeness, would wonder what, if anything, had ever happened between them.

“Eventually she gets tired of it. Her kid is older, in their teens now, and she leaves her husband, packing her things and her kid’s too and moving back in with her dad for a while.”

“And what happens between them?” Barry wants to know.

“He and his son come over more. They hang out more, the four of them, going to dinner and to the movies and to the arcade together. And when their kids are gone, at sleepovers or game nights with their friends, they laugh again, talk again. Fall in love again.”

The ending is implied. Iris closes her eyes when she’s done, letting Barry continue to rub at her back, his fingers so so warm on her skin.

“It's a happy ending,” he says, eventually. “But getting there was a little...depressing.”

Iris chuckles softly, lightheaded again at having gone through that again. It likely didn’t make Barry feel any better, but she’ll take the win that it took his mind away from his own problems, if only for a little while.

“Yeah, it is,” she agrees. “But it reminds me that just because it’s not easy and just because it takes some time, it doesn’t mean that things aren’t worth it.”

He nods, slowly, thinking.

“What about things that are...easy? That come like breathing? That start as a simple dance and just, just keep going?”

She stares down at him and she knows that this is rhetorical. She can see the question in the depths of his eyes, feel it in his hands still kneading her flesh. It would be easy to retreat, to tell him that nothing is ever easy, even if the reality is that it is because they are, because they fall into each other so effortlessly, that she’s terrified. There are always hiccups, obstacles, and the fact that she can’t find any keeps her on edge, waiting, anticipating trouble she knows must be coming. She doesn’t want to believe it, wants to stand firm in them—stand firm in the lyrics she keeps hearing, if you decide to stay, know that there is no escape; there's no one here to save you—and she holds onto that as he asks,

“Don’t you think it’s worth it, Iris? Even if it’s this easy?”

She can’t speak, but his eyes are imploring her to answer. Pleading with her for a response. And however terrified Iris is, or however much Iris tells stories, she is not a liar. So she nods and whispers to him, “yes.”

Without waiting for her to say anything more, he kisses her. He squeezes at her waist and leans up to capture her mouth. She meets him with his same fervor and it’s different, this kiss. She knows the passion of his mouth when he’s high, the boldness when he’s teasing her. But this is new, this is fervor, warmth and agony and doubt and pleasure, all wrapped up together.

(Something also tells Iris that there is another word for this, that this is the part of the story where feelings would be laid on the table, where hearts would be splayed open and she’d say it, or he would, and the other would respond in kind, with declarations of adoration, of infatuation, yearning, of any other word that means what she can’t say yet.

But she feels it, what she’s wanting to say, what she thinks he is saying, in this kiss. It is slow and nasty, all tongue and mouth. Her eyes flutter closed at the feeling, at how he licks into her mouth and then sucks on her bottom lip, at how he licks against her tongue and then holds her face to bring her closer to him. She feels it, she feels it, she feels him…)

He stands, holding on to her, and she wraps her legs around his waist, tightening her arms around his neck as he carries her through the house. The kisses don’t stop, though they become shorter, more mouth now, and he takes her down a long hallway past several doors until he turns into one at the end of the hall. She makes a quick note of the light gray and burnt orange decor, the side tables holding books and knickknacks, the one window that spans nearly the entire wall, but she focuses most heavily on the king-sized bed on which he throws on her, the soft comforter half hanging off the bed.

Her clothes come off first, Barry pulling her sweatshirt over her head and yanking her pants over her hips. He comes out of his own clothes as she discards her underwear, and then he’s between her thighs again. But she wants something else first so she taps his shoulder to flip them and then she’s hovering above him.

She gives him a kiss, slow and sweet, and then she makes her way down his chest, kissing as she goes. She loves the feel of his skin against her lips, likes how his skin tastes as she presses tongue kisses on him. His belly clenches and unclenches under her ministrations, and by the time she’s looking back up at him from her position near his crotch, she can see the way his chest rises and falls with his heavy breathing.

She reaches for him, wrapping her fingers around his dick. It’s long like the rest of him, and thicker than she would have expected just looking at him. It’s a pretty dick, the base the same color as him, the head slightly pinker. It’s a little veiny, but the skin is smooth, and already he’s starting to leak. She lifts her eyes to find him watching her, his own gaze hooded. In her peripheral, she sees his hands grip the bed sheets and she revels in how she hasn’t even done anything and his control is starting to slip.

“Tell me what you want, Bear.”

She says the words softly, but Barry doesn’t miss the cheek that lies under it, if the slight smirk he gives her is any indication.

“Your mouth,” he says. “I’ve been dreaming about that pretty mouth wrapped around my dick.”

She shudders at the tone of his voice, at the vision of her on her knees for him. She likes it.

“I bet you have too,” he guesses.

Without a response, she licks him, holding him at the base and running her tongue up one side of him. She does it again, and then one more time, acquainting herself with the taste of him and the satiny feel of him on her tongue, and then she adjusts and covers the whole of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes out.

She hums around him and she sucks him down, taking him until he hits her throat. Then she pulls back until just the tip remains. She licks around his head and sucks him there, letting the spit pool in her mouth, letting it mix with his own wet. She opens her mouth and lets it slide out, dripping down onto him, and her own body starts to drip at his wrecked whisper, “god, baby, look at you.”

She adds her hands, palming his testicles in one and rubbing her spit down the length of him with the other. She finds a rhythm, sucking him down, inch by inch, hollowing her cheeks as she goes, and then stroking his back up. Barry keeps his hand clenched in the sheets, but he cants himself into her mouth, rocking his hips lightly. She’s getting into it, loving the way he responds to her.

“Come here,” he says, suddenly, reaching for her, and she pulls back with a soft pop.

“Barry?” she furrows her eyebrows in question.

He gives her a gentle smile and grabs at her arm; Iris moves at his request, crawling up his body.

“But you didn’t finish,” she says, pouting a little.

“I know. I want to come when I’m inside you.”

She’s mollified by that, and he settles her on his lap.

“You were so good though, baby,” he says, kissing her. “My good, good girl.”

He reaches down to touch her, slipping his fingers easily into her sex. He groans into her mouth at the feel and he pulls back to ask,

“Is this all for me? Did you get wet sucking me off, good girl?”

She nods, rocking her hips against his hand, against his sex still hard beneath her. “Can, can you…?”

He tilts his head at her, fingers still caressing inside of her. “Can I?”

She huffs out a small laugh because he’s always fucking with her. “You said you wanted to come inside of me,” she reminds him.

“I did, didn’t?” He takes his time removing his fingers, eyes on her as he does. Even with the window curtains wide open, the dark sky has the room dark

(and she doesn’t dismiss the fact that the window faces the side of someone else’s house, where they could be seen if the neighbors were so inclined to watch)

and his eyes look a little like molten lead in the faint rainy light like this. He goes to reach over to his bedside table but Iris stops him.

“I want to feel you,” she says.

He licks his lips and she doesn’t mistake the twitch of his dick she feels under her. “You sure?”

“Yes. I’m on birth control. And I trust you.”

He nods once and again, and then he takes her by her hips and slides her down his cock.

After, Iris decides that this time is the single most erotic experience of her life.

They fuck with the rain like a soundtrack behind them, like a song that swells and stretches, telling their story, but you're so brave; stone cold crazy for loving me; yeah, I'm amazed; i hope you make it out alive, a song that rises and rises, that sounds too good to be real, that might destroy you, but only in the best way.

She rides him, and he’s so full in her like this, so deep in her like this. His back is against his fabric headboard and she’s so close to him, her knees jutting into the headboard, her thighs holding around his hips, her breasts rubbing against his chest, nipples pebbling with each brush on those hard planes.

She holds on to him with her hands holding the back of his neck, softly scratching at the nape. But he’s touching her, always touching her, his hands caressing her spine, and then holding her waist, and then squeezing her hips. He guides her: keeps his favorite pace, smooth and languid; bring her up to the tip and fucks her back down; shows her how he wants her to roll her body when he’s full in her, so her clit is brushing the soft hairs on his pelvis, the sensation incredible.

He uses his mouth too: to kiss her throat, deep tongue kisses that’ll leave marks she knows she’ll have to cover up; to whisper against her mouth, “see how easy this is; see how good, baby; fuck, see how good this is; yes, yes, yes, my good girl.”

And Iris feels so caught up in it. She can’t stop looking at him, loving when the lightning slashes across the room and illuminates those eyes, the constellation of moles on his skin, his wet, pink mouth. Her body hums with pleasure, soaking her thighs and his, tightening around his dick as if it never, never wants to let him go. She voices her satisfaction, in soft sighs and heavy pleas, and his name on her tongue like a chant, or better, a song, “Bear, Bear, Barrryyy.” They’re so close, her skin sticking to his wherever they’re touching, chest to chest and ass to thigh. She feels full and whole and filled...with him and with desire and with, and with love, the thought of it making her shudder and close her eyes.

“No,” Barry whispers. “Don’t. Just let it, just let it...stay here with me. Can you do that for me? Be brave for me?”

She nods, head heavy as her body starts to reach its climax, as her body loosens at the same time that it tightens and she has to fight to hold on to him. “Yes,” she moans again, holding his gaze again.

He touches at her face, holding her cheek and staring back. “Good girl.”

She doesn’t know whose climax triggers the other. She just knows that at the same time that her body explodes, fluttering wildly around him, he comes too, so hard that she feels him throbbing against her walls, that she feels him filling her up with his cum.

He doesn’t let go of her right away. He just holds her, hands at her hip and her face, and then he kisses her, cementing what they’ve just done, cementing what Iris feels for him.

“It’s the anniversary of my mom’s death,” he says, out of the blue. “And when I went to visit my dad earlier, I found out that he’s sick, something with his heart, and I’m-I’m reeling.”

It’s been a long while since they separated and Iris climbed off of him to pad into his bathroom and warm a hand towel under warm water to clean them both. They’ve been lying in his bed, only half under the covers as they let their bodies cool. It’s quiet now, so quiet that Iris has thought he’d fallen asleep; she’d almost fallen asleep. But when he speaks, she blinks wide and then turns her head to face him.

“14 years today,” he adds. He’s looking up at the ceiling as he talks, but Iris feels the hand that’s settled at her waist tighten, the move bringing her closer to him. She understands that he just needs the contact, so she turns so that she’s all the way curled on him, one of her legs thrown across him, her arm tossed over him too, hand settled on his heart. It’s beating slow, steady, and so she strokes his bare chest, right it.

“How’d you find out?”

“I was still at school,” he tells her. “It was a Friday and some of my friends had convinced me to go to a football game, so we were there pretty late. Games could run until 11. I was 17 so I had my own car. It was an old car; we’d bought it from a guy she worked with. By this time, my dad had been gone for a couple years, and my mom was always working late at the lab, so when I got home around 10:30 that night and the lights were out, I wasn’t surprised.”

He shifts a little and continues. “I took a shower, put some leftover pizza in the microwave, and just as I was sitting down to eat, the doorbell rang. It was the police looking for her next of kin to tell them what had happened.” He sighs heavily. “I got lucky. The courts let one of my friend’s parents take me in until I graduated a few months later. I was able to get a work study job in college to pay my bills since the mortgage was already paid off.”

He says it all like he was lucky, but there is nothing lucky about losing both of your parents in that matter, even if one of them was still physically alive. Iris knows from experience that he doesn’t want pity, doesn’t want anyone to feel sorry for his story. But she can’t help the way she wants to comfort him, and so she lets herself do that, tightening herself around him, snuggling even more into his chest.

“How are you feeling about your dad?” she asks, mumbling against his skin.

“Devastated. He looked like, like, I don’t know, like he’s giving up. I don’t get to go see him too often, every couple of months, really. And he looked so different from when I saw him last: smaller, frailer. I think there might be something he’s not telling me. Like he’s been sick longer than he says he has.”

“Is he supposed to get out soon?”

“Another couple years. But I don’t know if he wants to hold on that long.”

She feels them first, the tears. She tries to hold him even tighter, tries to crawl into his skin almost, trying to stem his pain. He doesn’t cry for long, just a few sobs, and then he’s inhaling deeply and wiping at his eyes. But it must be enough because he sounds a little hollow when he says,

“And truthfully, I’m not so much sad as I am mad, that he seems to be giving up. On getting out. On me.”

She hums, not dismissively, but because she understands. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes, I hate my mom.”

He sort of jerks up at that. Not fully, he looks down at her, eyes widened in shock. However inappropriate it might be, she finds herself laughing a little at his expression. Then she explains.

“I know that addiction is not a moral failing. I know that she struggled right up til the end. I know both of those things as completely as I know anything else. But sometimes I wonder why my dad wasn’t enough, why me and Wally weren't enough. I wonder what she was trying to find in those pills that she couldn’t find in us, and I get so pissed that she let it take her away from us.”

She’s startled when he moves. He pulls himself from under her, letting her fall onto her back, and then he’s hovering above her, holding himself up on his elbows. He falls into the spread of her thighs, his sex nuzzling comfortably against her still warm center.

“I’ve seen some of the worst effects of addiction,” he says, “when their bodies end up on a slab of metal and it’s my job to dissect the things around them, to even sometimes help detectives dissect their lives to figure out what happened. And something I’ve learned is that it’s always, always about them. Never about the people they love.”

He searches her face, brushing a piece of hair back from her forehead. “And whatever your mom was or wasn’t thinking, you are enough. You are more than enough, Iris.” He leans down and gives her a kiss, deep and dirty, and she moans in frustration as he pulls back from her. He gives her a grin, one more reminiscent of the Barry she’s used to.

“Repeat after me,” he commands. “I, Iris West…”

“Really, Barry?”

“Yes, come on. I, Iris West…

She sighs, but says it. “I, Iris West…”

“Am more than enough.”

She licks her lips then, blinks, works to not let the tears that have suddenly gathered in the corner of her eyes escape.

“Am more than enough,” she whispers, finally.

Barry’s smile turns fond. “Good girl.”

She shakes her head because she doesn’t know what else to do besides kiss him. Which she does, deeply, reaching down to grip him in her palm. She pauses, just for a moment, to tell him “you know that you are enough too, right?” and she kisses the look of awe off of his face. It’s a long while before she stops kissing him, and then it’s only to moan into his mouth, to let him whisper his dirty somethings into her ear.

“What are your plans for tonight?”

They’ve just shared a shower. Barry is throwing on another pair of sweats and a hoodie and Iris puts her own leggings back on, sans underwear, and thumbs through Barry’s closet for another sweatshirt to put on.

(There’s no reason that she can’t put hers back on, but she’s feeling particularly sentimental and she wants to take something of Barry’s with her, something that smells like him, that feels like him.)

“None, really.” She pulls out a red sweater that reads Central City University Track & Field and throws it on over her bra. “Why? You kicking me out.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “Of course not.” He glances down at the watch on his wrist. “Wanna get dinner? And then go with me to my tattoo appointment? It’s at 8 tonight.”

She smiles at that. “Sure.”

They take the highway back downtown. The rain is still beating steadily and there is still the occasional rumble of thunder, the sporadic flash of lightning. He parks a bit further in the arts district, in front of a restaurant specializing in wood-fire pizzas and craft beers. This time, she knows to wait for him to come around and open the door for her so that she can walk under his umbrella. Once he locks his jeep, he grabs her hand, and they walk the couple doors down and into the restaurant.

The place is brightly lit, in direct contrast to the dark sky and even the faint light that had been on at Barry’s place. The weather assures that it isn’t densely packed, just a couple booths of families and what looks like a couple, so they’re seated quickly and easily. They eat fast since they’ve only got an hour before his appointment. In the meantime, they both keep the conversation light. It’s been a day, for the both of them really, and Iris doesn’t think that she can cry twice in a day.

After he pays, she goes to the bathroom and he tells her he’ll wait at the door for her. She goes in and it’s as brightly lit as the rest of the place and she quickly does her business and washes her hands before heading back out to where he knows Barry is waiting in the little space between the outer door and the door to the restaurant.

She walks through the place and out of the restaurant door, likely too quickly and without really looking. She takes several steps, straightening out Barry’s sweatshirt again, and then she’s bumping into what feels like a solid wall, almost falling backward. A quick hand reaches out to catch her, the hand large, easily wrapping around her forearm.

“Shit,” she says, shaking her head to clear it as she looks up. “I’m sorr..Scott?”

He doesn’t move back right away and so she has to look up, up at the man holding on to her. Scott Evans is the literal definition of tall, dark, and handsome. He’d been her editor when she’d work at CCPN right out of college, and she’d had the biggest crush on him. Tall with dark caramel skin and a neatly trimmed beard, he’d been the one to help guide her in the ways of mass story-telling. They’d gone on one date and Iris is not actually sure why they’d never gone on another.

“Iris West.” He says her name slowly, his grin widening at the same pace. He gives her a once-over, slow and heated. “How’ve you been?”

“R-really good,” she says, stumbling a little at that grin. Even if she doesn’t actually regret never seeing him again, Iris can admit that a man this good looking makes her a little tongue-tied.

“Yeah? I’ve been catching your blog when I can. It’s some good shit, West. I can see why you left our little paper.”

“Please,” Iris rolls her eyes with a little laugh. “There’s nothing little about Picture News.”

He shrugs, humble all the way. “Still, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Scott. I appreciate that.”

“It’s the truth.” He looks down at her, swiping at his lips with his tongue, and she suddenly realizes that they’re still too close. She steps back fully from him, glancing over Scott’s shoulders to see Barry watching them, his expression unreadable.

“Um,” she speaks, catching his attention. “I gotta go Scott.”

“Oh yeah; of course. We should get together soon. Maybe do dinner.” Scott looks back out of the window where rain steadily pours. “It’s still raining out. Can I walk you to your car?”

Her eyes don’t leave Barry’s and he tilts his head, waiting for her answer. “Scott, I’m not alone.”

He turns as if he’s just realizing that Barry is standing there. Barry is still quiet and only lifts his eyes to look at Scott when he mutters, “oh, hey man.”

Barry nods. “What’s up?” Then he looks at Iris. “You ready?”

“Yeah, I am.” Her voice is soft, cautious, and she throws one more glance at Scott. “It was good to see you.”

He graces her with that smile again. “Yeah. I’ll see you around.”

Barry takes her hand and they walk back to the truck. They’re on the road again, driving to a neighborhood near her own. For a second, she thinks he’s going to take her home, but he passes the road to her apartment and goes on to a neighborhood featuring several bars and little shops that cater to the college crowd. He pulls into the parking lot of a place called Black Gold, the lights inside near as bright as those in the pizza place.

Again, she waits until he comes around and turns as if to get out. He stops her though, holding the umbrella high, standing in front of her open legs. He does his thing, his stare like he's trying, and succeeding, to get inside her mind.

“That your ex-boyfriend?” he wonders.

She shakes her head. “Ex-boss.”

His expression doesn’t change. “All your bosses look at you like that?”

She swallows at the sudden feel of his hand on her thigh. The rain is pounding and drops fall on them, but she’s not noticing it. Instead, she’s caught in the storm that’s returned to his eyes, in the feel of his hands inching steadily toward her center.

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” she says, instead of responding to him.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and the confident, bordering on cocky, Barry is looking at her now, even if that sparkle hasn’t returned quite yet.

“Nah,” he says. “Not jealous. You’re here right now. And you were with me earlier, moaning for me, coming for me.”

He slides his hand between her thighs and because she is, almost literally, always thirsty for him, wet for him, her legs spread easily. He fingers at the crotch of her leggings, and she knows that he can feel her warmth through the thin material. He thumbs at her until she gasps against him, finding her clit in a way that reminds him that he knows her body better than she knows it herself.

“He ever touch you like this?” Barry asks, voice a whisper above the rain. “Make you whimper even without getting your clothes off?”

She is whimpering, as he keeps his thumb on her clit, rubbing on her in slow circles. That’s all he’s doing: touching her with one hand, looking at her with those eyes that tell as much as they conceal, with his voice a deep rumble that rivals the thunder. He might be turned on, but he’s proving a point, naming himself as someone who, well, who owns her, even if she recognizes that no man should claim any power over her.

Heat spreads through her, a low, simmering sort of heat, but it’s enough that her folds grow slicker, start opening like the flowers of a petal waiting to be plucked. He keeps rubbing at her, staying on her clit, staring in her face, so much that she can’t hold his gaze. Because it feels better than it should, and her wet is soaking through these too thin leggings, and her breaths are coming in longer, coming in heavier.

“Tell me he hasn’t, Iris,” he says, commands, and Iris throws her head back, legs widening at their own volition, hips canting against his hand. “Tell me.”

“No,” she moans, eyes fluttering closed. “He never even touched me at all.”

“Tell me it’s just me,” he adds and she’s too far gone to note the pleading in his voice. “Tell me no one has ever touched you like this.”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Just you, Barry, shit, just you.”

“Good,” he groans. “Good, good girl.”

Even if touch is the word he’s using, Iris understands that it’s more. She understands that they’re both wrapped up in uncertainty, never too sure of where they lie in others’ affections, never too sure of where they lie in life at all. She understands that he’s asking her if she feels it too, if she’s there with him, if this too easy, this too natural, feeling is a first for her too.

He’s asking if she’s brave enough to tell him the truth, if she undertands is meaning-understands that I'm no walk in the park; all these scars on my heart; it’s so dark here-even as she’s wondering the same, as she’s feeling the same, wondering if the churning feelings of abandonment make her unworthy somehow. Wondering if he’ll come to see that unworthiness.

Barry leans forward, just a touch away from her mouth, eyes blazing.

“There’s only you too, Iris,” he says, unprompted. “I swear I’ve just been waiting for you.”

He closes the distance to kiss her and that’s enough to take her over. It’s not a powerful orgasm, not like usual, but it does make her shut her eyes tight, make her limbs seize up as she rocks her hips through it. She breathes out, and she can’t stop the little laugh that comes out.

“You really are a dick,” she muses, opening her eyes slowly.

“A polite one, though,” he says, as he stands straighter and holds his hand out to help her down from the car. He holds the umbrella high over her. “See how I’m making sure you don’t get wet.”

“You didn't think of that earlier.”

His grin is devastating but it doesn’t hide the plethora of emotions in his eyes: the simmering lust, the faint traces of insecurity, the grief that’s been hovering all day...the love she doesn’t think he wants to hide anymore.

She hikes up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, and then she walks beside him into the parlor, words flashing in her head like a sign, but if you’re a warrior, there’s nothing to fear; nothing to fear.

And later that night, as she cuddles up next to Barry is his large comfortable bed, she listens to his soft breathing, the sound a melody to the rain still pattering against his windows. She listens and she stares at him, taking in his features, softer than they were before, the stress of today easing away with every second he’s lost to sleep. A flash of lightning lights the room, and it catches her eyes again, the new tattoo, the purple ink bright on his skin, covering the space from a lily on his shoulder to just over his heart. It goes dark again, his room blanketed once more, but in her mind’s eyes, she can still see the vibrant ink on his skin, the pretty drooping petals of an iris.

Cause you're so brave

Stone cold crazy for loving me

Yeah, I'm amazed

I hope you make it out alive

#westallen fanfiction #westallen #barry x iris #iris west #strangers to lovers

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marauder-exe · 4 years

Text

Fake Dating- Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Request: Hi! Can you write a Stark!Reader x Peter Parker (Andrew please) were they’re fake dating because May was starting to catch onto the Spider-Man gig? They end up catching feelings and are scared to admit it? I hope this made sense! Thank you!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N; id love some feedback on this! and let me know if youd like a part 2

“So, let me get this straight” Peter nodded for you to continue “You want to fake date?” He nodded again. You gave him a questioning look. “Care to explain or no?”.

“Right, right. So, Aunt May is starting to catch on. The other day, I came home all dirty from helping people and she looked at me like I just killed someone. So, you know about the spiderman thing so that's not a problem. And since your my best friend” He gave a sweet smile “i figure, when she finds out we've been ‘dating’ she’ll think thats why Ive been acting strange.” He explained like it made absolute sense. It didn't. You were contemplating throwing him off of the roof you where stood on.

“righttttt...” You looked at him strangely. “How do you know it'll work?” you had a feeling this was gonna go very wrong.

“well, you know- you know, she's aunt May, shell believe it” There was also another problem.

“You know if my dad gets wind of this he will literally kill you right? Like he will 100 percent get all the avengers to murder you, and then he’ll bring you back to life, then re-kill you himself” You stated dramatically. He paled then gave you a look. That look. The look that he had given you for the last 5 years. The ‘im right just trust me on this one’ look. 9 times out of ten he wasn't right. But for the sake of both of you, you hoped this was the one time he was right.

“Fine fine, ill be your fake girlfriend or whatever” You groaned leaning into his shoulder.

“Wow, (Y/N) act more believable” He joked.

“Ah, Peter Parker, of course ill be your fake girlfriend!” You laughed loudly, shoving him.

“Shh, she might hear you!” He joined in, throwing his head back in laughter. After the laughter died down, you lay your head on Peters shoulder. You looked out into the sunset. It made you feel weird. Peter Parker's girlfriend. No. Peter Parker's fake girlfriend.

As the night was getting late, you decided to make your walk home, not before making your ‘relationship’ very clear to Aunt May. She was sat in the living room as Peter walked you to the door. As he opened the door for you, May looked your way, so you stood on your tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to Peters lips before scurrying out the door. He lifted a finger to his lips and blushed. Obviously Aunt May, who’d known you for 5 years and had never seen you kiss Peter, had some questions.

“Peter? What was that about?” Her question pulled him out of his romantic state. Its just because she's your best friend, He told himself.

“uh-h” He awkwardly laughed. Why was he so hopeless. “She's my girlfriend, now, actually” He mumbled tentatively. Before he knew it, Aunt May had gotten up and swooped him into a hug.

“I always knew you two had something going on!” She cheered. He furrowed his brows but hugged back nonetheless. Why would she think that? He shrugged of the thought and told Aunt May he was going to bed.

“Hey Parker! Hows ‘the plan’ going?” You jogged up to him as he made is way through the school corridors, clutching his camera. “She believe it?”

“y-yeah she did” He noted as you fist pumped the air. He thought you looked amazingly beautiful today. As you two stepped outside, he spotted a cleared bench, he longed to take a photo of you.

“(Y/N)?” He asked getting your attention. “Stand righttttt there” He pointed towards the clear bench as you happily jogged over and stood on it. Peter had always taken photos of you, but today it felt different. For him at least.

“Like this?” You giggled as you struck a pose.

“Yeah yeah, exactly like that” he threw his head back in laughter as he snapped plenty of photos at your ridiculous poses.

“(Y/N)! Parker!” Your photography fun was immediately stopped by the dreaded voice of Flash Thompson, making his way over.

“uh oh” You whispered to Peter as he helped you jump from the bench.

“I hear she's your new girlfriend” Flash nodded towards you, grinning devilishly. You and Peter looked at each other.

“Yeah- Yeah she is” He was trying to be brave. It wasn't working very well.

“Lay off, Flash” You both turned your heads your Gwen Stacey, the girl Peter had been crushing on for a few weeks. Although, he didn't feel like that any more.

“Come on, Gwen. You cant seriously believe this can you. Little Peter Parker dating famous Tony Stark’s beautiful, intelligent daughter?” You felt disgusted at his comment, so did Gwen. “Does Daddy even know? Nah, he couldn't, Parker would be dead by now. Or has Daddy just lost his game? Not as strong as he used to be. You could feel that Peter was about to say something out of anger, so you quickly moved your hand to hold his, even though anger was coursing through your veins

“Listen, Flash Thompson” The group of students surrounding the scene got slowly bigger. “im not dating ‘little Peter Parker’ im dating Peter Parker, a guy who is 10 times more smart and intelligent and handsome as you'll ever be. So why don't you go listen to Mommy’ nodding towards Gwen. “And lay off. Oh wait! You don't have a Mommy” You made a mock sad face then giggled. The entire group was in shock, even Peter. Okay maybe it was a bit uncalled for, but he shouldn't have insulted your dad.

Flashs’ face turned magenta as he balled his fist and tried to throw a punch. You ducked under his fist. Your dad had taught you to fight once you could walk.

“Wow! You just tried to hit a girl” You smiled incredulously, while Flash was still bright red. “Thats fine, im all for feminism, ya know, equal rights equal fights” You said nonchalantly. “You shouldn't have punched Tony Starks daughter though” You added, right as your fist connected with his jaw and our foot connected with his nether regions. You grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back as the ever expanding group cheered. Just as you were about to stand on top him, Peter grabbed you and pulled you away.

“Okay, enough fighting, avengers style” He dragged you inside the hallway.

“He deserved it for what he was saying” You grumbled.

“Im sure he did but-” Peter paused as he saw the principle and two concerned looking teachers, making their way down the hallway. “Rain check?” He whispered.

“Yep!” You whispered back as you jumped onto his back and he sped of, out of the school.

“You have to admit, it was pretty cool” You grinned at Peter as he fixed up the cuts on your knuckles.

“It was cool. You knocked out Flash Thompson. ‘The’ Flash Thompson. But you got yourself hurt in the process” He whined.

“Wow, Mr ‘im-spiderman-and-i-risk-my-life-everyday Is telling me about danger, okay I see how it is” You joked.

“You know what I mean” He grinned. As he finished wrapping your hands, you heard footsteps coming upstairs. “Its Aunt May. What do we do?” Before you could think of anything, you instinctively brought his lips to yours and your hand fell into his hair. He kissed back passionately, like his entire life had been leading up to this moment. It sent a flurry of butterflies into your stomach. He felt the same thing. His lips tingled and his hand lay on your waist. You had officially caught feelings. And so had he. You heard the door open and kept your eyes tightly shut and lips moving.

“You got into a fi-” You furrowed your brows, that didn't sound like Aunt May. You moved away from Peters loving kiss to face the door. The second you saw who it was your face turned bright red, you were done for.

“Dad?!” You shrieked. Peter was drawn from his daze, dreaming of you beautiful lips, by your loud voice.

“Mr. Stark” He almost fell out of his chair at the sight of Tony Stark, Happy and Aunt May, all stood in the door in shock.

“Alright, Spiderling, hands off my daughter” Your dad hurried over and grasped your hand, gently shoving you out the room. Of course Tony Stark knew about him.

“s-see you later, Parker” You muttered. After Tony left, Aunt May shut the door awkwardly, returning to living room. And once, he was left alone with his thoughts. His thoughts about you.

#peter parker #spiderman #peter parker x reader #mcu fic #mcu #marvel #spiderman x reader #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield spiderman #peter parker imagine

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

Text

how to save a life bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Good old whump 😌 this is so fucking long (wc: 2113)

also i know some people are weird about dogs so just know reader has a very large typically seen as aggressive kind of dog (but hes not, just a little slobbery and awkward lol)

Song: say something by danny worsnop and matty mullins

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

"I can't take your shit anymore. If you won't do anything about it then I will! I quit!"

I yelled, untying my apron and tossing it at my manager. One of the cooks had been harassing me for the last couple weeks and he refused to say or do anything. But I had reached my breaking point.

"Come on y/n, we need you! You can't leave me short staffed like that."

He whined and I shook my head, making my way to the back door.

"No, fuck you Rodney, you can find someone else to deal with it."

I said annoyed, clocking out, grabbing my stuff and storming out the back. I gave him the finger as the door slammed behind me, sighing angrily at myself for not finding a new job sooner.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, kicking the brick wall before leaning into it, shoving my head in my hands. Then I heard a harsh cough. My attention snapped towards the man limping through the alley way, seemingly clutching at his side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I asked, reaching into my bag and gripping my pepper spray tightly.

"Sir?"

I asked again, moving closer to him in the darkness. When he looked up at me I realized who it was. I had seen pictures of him before. What was his name? James? Yeah captain Americas bear friend. From the museum.

"Help."

He managed before falling face first into the dirt. I gasped as I watched his body go limp. In that moment I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't call someone cause I didn't know who to call, and God it was gonna take everything in me to get him back to my apartment. But I couldn't just leave him here. Shit. I sighed before kneeling down and rolling him over. His face was bruised and bloodied, the same as the knuckles on his hand. He must have really gotten into it with someone. I bit my lip before sitting him up with a groan.

"Okay james, work with me here."

I sighed out, going around him and picking him up. He made a soft noise and I looked at him, his eyelids bobbing open for a second.

"Two blocks, that's all it is."

I told myself more than anything, slinging his arm over my shoulder and walking with him dragging his feet. The whole walk was labored breathing and groaning. He was heavier than he looked but then again he was pretty much solid muscle. And though he wasn't much help I could tell he was trying. That endurance was paying off a little bit. But as soon as we were to my apartment he was out, practically falling through the door after I opened it. I only just caught him, laying him on the floor gently and dragging him to the couch. As I tried to put him on it I could hear my dog whining and tapping his toes in his crate.

"Give me a minute Wolf."

I said half annoyed as I got James flat on his back. When I was content with him laying there I let my massive akita-rottweiler mix out of his crate. He immediately went to James and started sniffing him excitedly until I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, leave the nice man alone. Let's go potty."

I said, him barking and running towards the door. I quickly got his leash on and took him down to the streets of new York. We walked a good block before finally heading back to my apartment. After I took Wolfs leash off he was right back in James' face.

"Hey, what did I say? Go lay down."

I instructed, him making a sad sound before pouting his way to his large bed in front of the window. I sighed, looking over James with my hands on my hips. Then I noticed a darkened spot just under his jacket and immediately began to worry.

"Shit. Is that blood?"

I said, stepping closer. I watched his face as I knelt down, pushing the coffee table further away from the couch.

"James I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna undo your jacket."

I said in a clear voice, watching to see if he moved but he didn't, prompting me to go on anyway. When the front of it was undone I gasped. He was indeed bleeding. It took me a minute to get it fully off, his shirt following right after. To my surprise his whole torso was covered in scrapes and bruises, along with what seemed to be a gunshot wound. Luckily it was only a graze. That I could treat.

"What the hell were you doing?"

I asked out loud even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I shook my head before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed, wolf following me around my apartment. I guess lucky for him I went to medical school, I mean I flunked out my last semester, but still. That's only three months I'd have to finish before I'm a licensed nurse. I had this. Right?

"God I hope I don't have to sew this man shut."

°°°°°°°°°

The next few hours I just sat at my breakfast bar staring at him in the living room, sipping coffee and trying not to wake Wolf who was now fast asleep at my feet. I was waiting patiently for him to wake up, to make noise, to move even an inch. but it never happened. He was however still breathing, the portable heart monitor I had attached to his finger beeping softly.

When the sun started peering through my curtains though I figured it was best to check on him again. After all, I would need to change his bandages soon so whatever it was that hit him didn't get infected. Wolf for one was very excited again for me to be working on the stranger, running to him and getting in his face again.

"Wolf!"

I scolded, James jolting upright as I pulled the collar back on his large black neck.

"Sorry."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked around for a moment before looking down and wincing in pain as he touched his abdomen.

"Go lay down."

I said harshly, wolf not quite budging at first. But going when I nudged him with my knee.

"Um, I hope you don't mind that. I did as best I could but it's been a while. I was gonna come change them."

He stared at me, looking to wolf in his bed when he sighed.

"Thank you."

He said softly and I nodded.

"Do you mind laying back down? It's a little easier."

I said and he did, slowly, watching my every move as I knelt beside him. I dug into my kit to get new dressing, peeling the old off and shaking my head. It was still bleeding but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Do you remember much about last night James?"

I asked and he shook his head no, the dog tags around his neck shifting. I focused intently on what I was doing, hearing wolf sigh again. I rolled my eyes, sending him a playful look.

"You aren't afraid of dogs are you James?"

I asked and he shook his head again.

"Okay wolf, come here."

He stood quickly, panting as he came over and stood beside me, looking like he had a wide smile on his face as he sat down. James looked up at him and smiled back, bringing his right hand to scratch at wolf's head. It was a good distraction as I fixed his wounds for a second time. As I put the stuff away I was forced to remember he was still shirtless.

"Oh uh, I washed your shirt too, it was pretty soaked through."

He nodded, making a pained face as he moved to sit up, letting me help as he did. Wolf took that as an invitation to get on the couch, his large dog body taking up a good portion of it as he laid across James' lap. I looked to the ceiling as he laughed, petting him some more.

"I'm so sorry. If you want him off all you have to do is tell him to get down."

I said standing up, going to the kitchen to wash my hands.

"I don't mind it, he reminds me of an old friend."

He lamented as I came back, wiping my hands on a towel.

"They must've been one hell of a friend."

He nodded slowly.

"Hey uh, you can call me Bucky. if you want."

I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Y/n."

"Thanks for this y/n."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not gonna lie James, uh Bucky, I was a little shook up last night. I had just quit my job when you came stumbling down the alley I almost wasn't sure what to do with you. And I know as a citizen I probably should have called an ambulance but as an ally..."

I paused. he looked a little more into what i had to say now.

"I've, well, I've been around the block with a string of heroes before and none of them could ever actually get help from paramedics. So I did what I could."

He nodded.

"I really appreciate it y/n, I must've been desperate after all, to go to a complete stranger."

He laughed.

"I'm just glad you found me and not someone else. Or who knows what could have happened."

"those were my thoughts exactly."

there was a long pause, me standing awkwardly and both of us staring at the floor. then Wolf barked, taking both of our attention as i jumped at the sudden sound.

"guess he agrees."

i said and he laughed again.

"ya know i really appreciate this. is there a way i could repay you? some how?"

he asked and i shook my head.

"no, i couldn't let you do that. really."

i said quickly, holding my hand out, watching as he struggled to stand.

"i want to."

he insisted, stumbling forward and i caught him. he panted out a pained noise.

"knowing you're safe is enough. come over here, lets get you something to eat."

i said, walking him slowly to the bar i was just sat at and feeling his back muscles strain against my palm as i held him upright.

"careful, you keep taking care of me i might never leave."

he said through a wince as i placed him in the chair.

"promise?"

i laughed and he sent me a soft look before smiling. i could feel the blush run across my face as i moved to the fridge, making a face like i was an idiot for saying that.

"uh i went to school to be a nurse after taking care of my last boyfriend. he was terminally ill but didnt want to stay at a care facility. i guess ive kind of been missing it since he passed last year."

"im sorry."

he said quietly as i pulled things out of the fridge for breakfast.

"its alright. ive been getting by. plus i have wolfie over there to keep me busy."

i said with a smile, the large dog wagging his tail as he sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"im sure he appreciated all you did for him."

bucky said and i nodded once, moving to the stove.

"uh, how do you like your eggs?"

he turned in the chair to look at me.

"what's your specialty?"

i laughed.

"anything but poached."

he smiled widely at me.

"over easy please."

"great. that i can do."

there was another long silence as i began frying the eggs. then he cleared his throat.

"would it be a little Stockholm syndrome-y to ask you out after saving my life?"

i let out a short, loud, laugh before looking at him.

"oh you're serious?"

i asked and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"unless youre not looking but the least i could do is take you to dinner."

i nodded slowly, plating the food and setting the plates on the counter.

"im not but i wouldnt say no to dinner. and who knows, maybe id be open to seeing you after. maybe with a shirt and not bleeding on my couch."

he picked up the fork and raised it in cheers to me.

"ill take it. and its the least i could do. as a thank you."

"its a date then."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #one shots #imagines #captain america #White Wolf #marvel #331

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bananapie99 · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home

Part IV of my new Home series

Part I here

Part II here

Part III here

Inspired by Welcome Home from Bandstand the musical

Welcome home my dear, welcome home my sweet. Welcome home my hero, welcome home my heart.

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Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers (brother) x Reader

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Now our wait has ended, our years of yearning, and I’m at my doorway, my love returning...

The day had finally come. The longest week of your life had passed, and Bucky was almost home. This morning you spent twice the time you normally do getting ready, wanting to look perfect for your reunion. It had been nearly two years since you had felt Bucky, smelled Bucky.

It came time to head to his family’s home. A few days prior you all decided to meet there, that way Bucky could see you all at once and not have to decide who to see first. Sitting, waiting, became an agonizing task. You twisted the ring around your ring finger, unable to sit still.

Any minute now.

A watched pot never boils, but that did not stop you from looking at the clock every 5 seconds. Your head started spinning with possibilities. What if there was an accident on the way back? Or maybe the war made him realize he wanted something different for his life. He could walk right past you, or ask for the ring back.

Stop it (y/n). You scolded yourself for even thinking that way. He would not have written all those letters if he was not in love with you.

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts.

You jumped up, standing straight, still fiddling with your ring.

Bucky’s father took a few steps towards the door and opened it up.

“Hey dad.”

His voice. Oh that sweet voice had never sounded so beautiful. Your vision started to blur as you attempted to fight back the tears.

His dad opened the door wider, letting Bucky inside.

Immediately his eyes found yours and you could no longer fight back the tears. You let out a sob and opened your arms as he dropped his bag and ran across the living room to reach you. Suddenly your feet were off the ground, his arms locked around your waist as he spun you in a quick circle. He set you back down, but did not let go. One of his hands left your waist, finding its home under your chin, pulling your eyes up to meet his. Oh those eyes. You could drown in the turbulent ocean of those orbs. You opened your mouth to speak, but before any words could come out his lips covered yours. The kiss was desperate and heavy, one that you would never share in public given any other circumstance. Your ears burned, knowing his family and your brother were watching, but at the same time, you did not care. Bucky was here. Bucky was home.

He released your mouth, pulling you flush against his chest. He rested his cheek on top of your head.

“Welcome home James,” you finally let out just above a whisper. Your hand reached up to touch his neck and was met by the cool metal chain of his dog tags. You wove your fingers around the chain, not wanting to let go of his identification, regardless of how morbid the concept of the tags were.

Rebecca came over and rested a hand on his shoulder. He hesitated a moment, not wanting to let go of you. You gave him a squeeze, then loosened your hold on him to signal it was okay. He needed to finish his hellos.

As he released you, he turned towards his sister, pulling her in to a similar hug and kissing her cheek. By now his mother was a mess in her tears, holding onto her husband.

Bucky released Rebecca and turned to his mother, opening his arms.

“I missed ya ma.”

She practically threw herself into his arms and sobbed into his shoulder. He held her close, gently swaying side to side, trying to soothe her cries.

It took her a while to calm back down, but who could blame her? Even with all the letters home, his time away was unbearable. None of you would say it out loud, but every day you all waited for that telegram to arrive, delivering the impossible news. But now here he was, home, safe.

Finally, he let go of his mom and hugged Steve. As you watched the two of them, something seemed off. What you were seeing before you did not look right. You had been so excited to see Bucky when he got home that you realized you had not really seen him.

His arm.

His left arm is not his arm.

You walked over to them and grabbed what should have been his left arm, and gasped when you were met with wood. You pushed the sleeve up on his jacket to reveal the rest of the wooden limb. You stumbled back a step before he reached out to catch you.

“Bucky... what happened?”

You felt the tears starting to come again.

“(Y/n), it’s okay, I’m okay,” he cooed, trying to calm you down. “Remember the situation I wrote you about? But it’s not a big deal Cookie, I’m okay I promise.”

Your heart splintered looking at the prosthetic. The situation he wrote about talked about removing a bullet, not removing an arm. The war had already taken enough, why his arm too?

He used his flesh hand to wipe at the tears painting your cheeks and kissed you again, gently this time.

Mentally you scolded yourself for the second time today. Who were you to cry? Bucky is the one who was shipped off to war and lost an arm, along with who knows what or who else. But Bucky did not seem to mind. He met your eyes with a soft smile before pulling you back into his chest. The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity in silence, Steve and his family migrating towards the kitchen to you give you two some time. Neither of you wanted to break the moment, but Bucky finally spoke.

“So when is the wedding? When do you officially become Mrs. James Barnes?”

Hearing him say those words made you dizzy. Luckily Bucky had you so tight to his chest you did not have to worry about falling.

Finally you found your voice. “Just say the words, Sergeant.”

He let out a laugh that made his chest vibrate against you. You forgot how magical his laugh sounded.

“How about now?”

Wedding plans be damned, you were ready. All you needed was Bucky by your side.

“Tell your family and call the pastor, I need thirty minutes,” you said before stretching up to kiss his jawline. Quickly you walked into the kitchen, grabbed Rebecca, and drug her out of their house. You took off running towards your apartment, Rebecca sprinting to catch up.

“(Y/n), what are you doing?? Why are we running?”

You grinned. “The wedding. It’s happening today!”

Rebecca squealed and picked up her pace.

At your and Steve’s apartment, you and Rebecca frantically gathered what you needed. Your and Rebecca’s dresses were hanging nicely in your closet, shoes tucked underneath them. Since you had left so quickly you were unsure if Steve was coming back here or not, so you decided to grab his suit and shoes as well.

In the drawer to your vanity you saw the small velvet box and put that into your purse. Last week Steve gave it to you as a gift, your parents’ wedding rings inside. He told you he wanted you and Bucky to have them. You cried when he gave them to you, so touched by the gesture and sacrifice he was making for himself by giving the rings to you.

“They would want you to have them, (y/n). I want you to have them. Promise.”

At that moment, the door to your apartment opened and you heard Steve calling out for you.

“In here,” you called out from your bedroom.

You heard him enter and told him his suit was draped over the couch.

He reached out and took your arm in his hand.

(Y/n), stop moving for a second. Look at me.”

You stopped what you were doing and met his eyes.

“There’s no need to rush the wedding today, Bucky does not mind waiting. He wants you to have the day you dreamed of, not something you rushed to just because he is home. He’s home, and he is not going anywhere. Today is a lot to take in on its own...him being back, his arm...”

You winced at the mention of his arm. To be honest, you had forgotten about that already and hearing the words was a bit of a shock. But you were touched by the sentiment, knowing it was true and knowing Bucky sent Steve over here to tell you that.

“I know, Steve. But this is my dream wedding. I do not care about the flowers or the decorations really, today is not about the looks or the party. I just want to marry him. I just want him. I want to say those words and know that he is mine forever. I want the declaration and the ceremony. I want the vows. As long as I have you walking me down the aisle and Bucky waiting for me at the end, it will be my dream wedding.”

Steve was satisfied by your answer and kissed your forehead, before grabbing his suit off the couch and rushing to the church to meet Bucky.

What else did you need?

The letter.

The letter that promised you he was alright after radio silence. You wanted that letter in the church with you, along with his telegram.

I’m coming home.

Now he was home. In his arms you had your home back as well.

You put those into your purse next to the ring box.

Rebecca and you went over your mental list one more time just to make sure you had not missed something big, then took off for the church.

Inside, Rebecca and you found a room to store everything and get dressed. She helped you close up your dress and adjust your hairstyle, adding in your mother’s clip and her mother’s veil.

You gave Rebecca the ring box and the letters. Where you wanted the letters, you did not know. But they needed to be in the church.

Rebecca put on her dress and stepped out to check if Steve, Bucky and the pastor were ready.

A few minutes later she peeked her head back in the room.

“They are all ready (y/n). Are you?”

You took a shaky breath, already overwhelmed by your emotions. You felt tears start for the hundredth time that day, but fought to keep them back. Unable to speak without the tears falling, you just nodded yes. Rebecca held her hand out to you and you took it in your own, following her towards the altar.

Bucky’s parents were seated in the first row of pews. Rebecca kissed your cheek and told you “see you down there,” before rushing towards the end of the aisle where her brother stood. When your eyes saw Bucky standing down there you could no longer hold the tears in, a single sob escaping your throat.

Immediately Bucky looked up, eyes locking on you. He smiled as his own tears started to fall.

Steve linked his arm with yours and gently nudged your shoulder.

“You ready (y/n?)”

Absolutely.

The two of you started your walk down the aisle at a normal pace, but as you got closer you could not wait any longer and started to pick up speed. Bucky let out a laugh at your eagerness.

Finally at the end of the aisle, Steve kissed your cheek before placing your hand into Bucky’s.

For a moment you and Bucky just stood there, holding each other’s hands and looking into one another’s eyes. You both grinned.

The pastor cleared his throat and began talking.

If you were being honest, most of the ceremony was a blur. But then you heard it.

“Do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take (y/f/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

“I do.” He slid your mother’s old wedding band onto your finger. The perfect size.

More tears.

“Do you, (y/f/n), tale James Buchanan Barnes to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, ‘til death do you part?”

The words were caught in your throat and you nodded, trying to force them out. With a little sob you finally got out “I do.” You went to slide the ring onto his finger, but were met with wood.

He leaned in towards you to whisper, “I’ll wear it on my right hand, babydoll. I want to feel the ring.”

Even more tears.

You slid the ring on his right hand and were amazed at how perfectly it had fit him.

Meant to be.

The pastor spoke again. “You may now kiss the bride.”

He moved closer to you, wooden arm finding its place around your waist, as his flesh hand cupped your face. He whispered “forever and always,” before leaning down the rest of the way to give you a kiss that made your head spin.

It really happened. You and Bucky were married. He was your husband. You were his wife. This had to be a dream. But this time, it was not. You were completely his and he was completely yours.

Bucky slid his arm around your waist and led you back down the aisle, family close behind.

The rest of the day you two could not keep your hands to yourself. If you were standing, his arm was around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, If you were sitting, your head was resting on his shoulder, hands and arms tangled together. He kissed you every chance he got; on your cheek, forehead, shoulder, lips. He was not picky.

As the evening went on and the alcohol continued to flow, he became even more handsy, if that was possible. His hand found home on your leg, occasionally teasing the hem of your skirt, Feeling his mother’s eyes on you two you kept pushing his hand away, but he was either oblivious or didn’t care. You certainly didn’t mind, but you did not want or need those looks. Even as a married woman you wanted to be respectable, and it was too early on in your marriage to suddenly end up on his mother’s bad side.

Desperate for conversation you blurt out the first question you could think of.

“Where are we staying tonight Buck?”

In the excitement and commotion of the day, Bucky and you had never stopped to consider what your married life living situation would be.

“You can stay here,” his mother chimed in.

“No!” The declination came from Bucky and you simultaneously,

Realizing the harshness of your answer, you followed up with “thank you Mrs. Barnes, that is very sweet of you. I just would not want to impose.”

Before she could respond, Steve came to the rescue,

“Take the apartment for a couple days, (y/n). Would it be alright if I borrowed Buck’s room here for a couple days Mrs. Barnes?”

It was not the arrangement she was hoping for, but his mother agreed.

Bucky pulled you closer into his side and his lips met your ears.

“Tomorrow we’ll start lookin’ for our home Cookie.”

You nodded in agreement. You liked the sound of that, our home.

“But for now I think it is time we get going.” He stood and extended his right hand to you. “Ready to head home, Mrs. Barnes?”

Your cheeks burned and your head spun at his words. That was going to take some getting used to. Taking his hand, you stood.

He disappeared to his room for a moment to grab his bag he had packed earlier. The two of you said your goodbyes, then started the little walk towards your apartment. At the door you pulled out your keys and unlocked the apartment, pushing the door open. You took a step forward to enter but Bucky stopped you. He scooped you up into his arms, your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck.

“It’s tradition, babydoll. Can’t have my brand new bride walking herself into our home.” He winked at you and walked inside. He kicked the door shut behind him and turned around for you to lock the door, not ready to set you down just yet.

Bucky kept walking, holding you in his arms, straight back to your bedroom, where he finally set you down on the bed. He held himself above you, eyes locked on your own. Slowly, he moved his head closer, leaning in until his lips met yours, tongue gently finding its way to yours.

Your heart started racing in anticipation of the evening. It was well known that Bucky had...experience with girls. That did not bother you. What made you anxious was the fact that you had none. Of course you were not completely clueless, you had the knowledge, but that was all you had. Bucky knew this though. The night before he left for the war you spoke about it, and he had told you “you’re worth waiting for, (y/n).”

As nervous as you were, you knew there was nothing to worry about with Bucky. He loved you and you loved him. All he wanted now that he was home was to keep you safe.

You stretched your head up and kissed Bucky. “Welcome home, my husband.”

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Requests open!

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Taglist: @moteldwelling @belladonnabarnes @emmabarnes @ritz-hell-hotel

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky

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warmau · 4 years

Text

painter!au jihoon

*this post was commissioned | based very lightly off seventeen - fallin’ flowers tw: break up mention/general angst

“something in your gentleness entraps him you make it look so easy, to love and provide for something he knows a flower is one thing, a human is another - but could you do that for him too?”

you had thought jihoon was going to marry them

so standing in the middle of his studio with the remnants of their relationship, a broken vase of lilies in the corner, his undone portrait of them dripping down with the streaks of paint he’d thrown at the canvas in a fit of confusion and pain

feels .......... wrong

as if you were the one who was broken up with, and not jihoon who is on his knees a couple of feet away

hands stained in watercolors, eyes blank and burrowing

you reach for the wilting lilies first, you’ve known jihoon long enough to be aware of the fact that trying to use words to comfort him right now won’t work

so you silently begin to clean up, plucking items that belong to his ex and placing them out of sight

you take the ruined canvas with half their face sketched out and turn it over

jihoon doesn’t move from his spot as you work - doesn’t say anything - doesn’t even look at you

when you’re done you finally kneel down beside him, bring the hot wet towel to his hands and start to scrub the dry paint from his palms

you try to be gently but jihoon finally speaks

“harder, you have to scrub harder if you want to get rid of them.”

you can’t tell if he’s talking about the paint or of the memories that must be flooding into him

you had remembered how happy he had looked, being in love, being with someone who seemed to understand him

now he was empty and you were scared of what could happen if he was left like this alone

you don’t argue, you scrub harder and finally you get some of the colors off his skin

there’s still smudges thought, the same way there will still be those pieces of his ex scarred across him

time heals everything - you want to say that, but its too early to start preaching

instead you tell jihoon he should go to bed now, you’ll take care of the rest of the cleaning up and put his art supplies away

he gives a vague sort of look toward the bedroom and then back at you

“i broke the vase, the one with the lilies.”

“it’s ok, ive already cleaned-”

“i should go buy fresh ones.”

his eyes glaze over, he gets up and you scramble to your feet in the process

you put a hand on his chest to stop him and jihoon stares at you, but you can tell he isnt focused

“ill buy them, please jihoon. go to bed.”

somehow you manage to get him to turn around

and you are standing now in the doorway to his apartment, with a trash bag full of his exes things and the pathetic looking lilies

you had bought them as a gift when you’d come over to celebrate jihoon’s successful art show

his ex had put them into a vase and gushed over how pretty they looked - jihoon had never been one to be so romantic, but he had said that they looked almost as pretty as his ex did

you had watched them be so loving toward each other just days ago

but now it was all gone and part of you is angry at both of them

at jihoon’s ex for leaving him, out of the blue and with no real reason but the excuse of having “outgrown” him

and at jihoon for calling you after it had happened

but that anger toward him is really just a cover for something else

the hollowing pit in your stomach that has always been there since you met jihoon in college.

the pit you’ve covered with years of support for him and his relationships and his art

the pit, in which sits the actual emotion you’ve been hiding from the world

if you had picked me, i would have never hurt you like this

the thought is cruel and you tell yourself never to think such a thing like that again

but its there, it will always be there, because you love jihoon

not that you ever plan to let that truth come to the surface......

the next morning, you stop by the florist to pick up the lilies you promised you’d buy

you look at them, watching as one of the petals sags to the side, threatening to fall

you dont know what it is about lilies in particular - they bloom so big and beautiful that they often steal the attention in a garden

they’re quite the opposite of you

who has always found yourself more of a queen anne’s lace, playing a side role in the main stories of all your friends

but you adore them above all other flowers, touching the petal made of velvet and suddenly remembering that you had seen lilies when you first met jihoon

you had taken art in college as an extra credit class

you weren’t at all any good, but it was enjoyable to take a course that didnt demand much from you but creativity

one of the first assignments had been still life: drawing baskets of fruit, books on tables, flowers in vases

you had ended up with a vase with one purple lily in it.

the only other person who had also chose it was jihoon

you didn’t know his name back then

just that he was so beautiful, like he had been drawn himself and came to life off the page

his eyes like umber, russet sunsets - his mouth slightly parted in concentration as he let his pencil flow across his canvas

you had trouble focusing on the flower, which is probably half the reason it came out terribly

but it had also allowed jihoon to look over and offer with a quiet tone, that you maybe work on shading here - and dimension here

you had told him you weren’t in the art major and he had given you the kind of look that read, i could tell

before smiling to himself in the way you caved your head in a bit of embarrassment

it wasn’t like you ever thought the meaningless, sometimes only minute long conversation you’d have with him in the art room would turn into a friendship which harbored its way into one-sided love

somehow you had just ended up being invited warmly into his small knit circle

jihoon extending his hand to you after getting a text about dinner with seokmin and jeonghan

jihoon allowing only his and your eyes to fall upon his works in progress, you taking the free time you had to spend at his studio mixing paints and organizing his drawing materials

he never ask you to do those things - but he also never chided you for it

jeonghan had mentioned it once, when you were all walking in the summer evening after a movie outing

that you being able to earn jihoon’s trust was a higher honor than one might think

you had looked from jeonghan to jihoon - who had been walking a bit in front with the rest of your friends

head turned, his profile against the setting sun

“ah - are you buying another bouquet for your artist boyfriend?”

you jump at the sudden question and shake your head

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

you swallow and find that your throats gone dry

“he actually just got broken up with so......”

the florist frowns, taking you gently by the hand and leading you away from the lilies

“then those are not the flowers you should be getting him, you need to get him something that will say cheer up! there’s someone better out there for you - could i suggest tulips?”

you give a polite smile

“no, i think i have to take the lilies.”

when you arrive at jihoon’s apartment, the door is unlocked and jihoon is still in bed

from the way the kitchen is untouched and he’s wearing the same shirt he was yesterday you assume he hasn’t moved in all this time

“jihoon”

you softly speak

“it’s already well past lunch, have you eaten?”

he pulls his feet up so they disappear under the covers again. you look around the room and find a vase full of old paintbrushes

you take it and tell jihoon you’re going to go make him something to eat and that you’ve brought the lilies

he doesn’t reply, not until you turn in the doorway and his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard before

“can you put the lilies in here?”

“you don’t want them in the studio?”

“no, please put them here.”

you quickly fry up an egg and make some coffee, which you set down on the night table beside jihoon’s bed

you move his sketchbook away and realize that it’s open to an empty page

your eyes briefly glance to see if jihoon has reacted at all, but he’s still

you go back to wash out the waves and put the lilies in

you wrap a rubberband around his paintbrushes and set them by the others which are stock piled in the studio room

a small ping of relief floods through you when you enter the bedroom and jihoon is up, holding the cup of coffee in his hands

usually people would suggest you make conversation to help ease jihoon’s mind out of whatever dark place it has wondered into it

but you just put the lilies down and tend to cleaning up whatever other paper and things you can see on the floor

even though jihoon only finishes the coffee and maybe a quarter of the egg, it’s still a start

the pain he’s feeling is fresh and you don’t want to push anything

but as you tell him you’re off to leave again - you remind him that he does have another exhibition planned in two weeks

on the way back home you hope his love for painting can cradle him through this all

whenever you think of the sadness that comes with being unloved, you throw yourself into your hobbies, scribbling down poems or re-reading novels from your time in school

you’d done it all to stop thinking about jihoon - you hope he does the same too

about a week passes when you return to jihoon’s again, and it’s only because this time jeonghan calls you with a serious worry about jihoon’s exhibition

“he isn’t painting, that’s the problem.”

“what do you mean he isn’t painting?”

“when i came over, he was sitting in front of the canvas with his hand pressed against it - but ........ he wasn’t drawing or painting or doing anything.”

you show up to the apartment after the call and take a deep breath before you let yourself in

today might be the first time you mention the breakup to jihoon, and you don’t know if its too early yet

to make the dread bubble even harder in your stomach is the fact that sitting outside of his apartment is that undone portrait of his ex

its half shrouded with other trash bags left to be collected

you look at the familiar face and clench your fist a bit tighter

if you hadnt done this to him, if you hadnt made this mess - i wouldnt be stuck cleaning it up.

you chide and immediately fall into regret

its not a mess, taking care of your friends is not a mess.

you knock on the door and wait for a moment till you hear jihoon turn the lock

you’re relived to see that his hair is wet from a fresh shower, but the bags under his eyes like crows wings cancels it out

as well as the fact that he looks as if he’s seen the devil himself

“what’s wrong?”

jihoon’s shoulders shrink

“do i really have to answer that?”

you step inside and the door closes behind you two

“jeonghan said you’re having trouble painting”

jihoon’s head drops and the darkness of the hallway makes everything feel closer and more intense

he turns and starts to walk toward the studio and you follow, gasping a little at the sight of it

canvases broken in halves, paint spilled on the floor - but not a single new painting, not a single completed project

jihoon sits down in the middle of it all and puts his head in his hands

he looks like he’s in agony, silent and torturous

is this what happens when an artist loses their muse?

you don’t know how to help and that makes it all the more worse

you just sit down beside jihoon

he lets you take his hands in your own

in the corner of the room those fresh lilies youve bought have wilted again

on one of the broken canvases, the only thing jihoon has been able to paint is those scattered and browning petals

you start to come by everyday after that because as much as you share jeonghan’s worry about the art

you are more so worried about jihoon shutting down

now he has nothing to focus on, just the fact that he’s lost the love of his life

so you try and entertain and keep him alive to the best of your ability

with groceries and company, bringing over his other friends - trying to coax him into going outside

jihoon reacts on some level, but you can tell that he just wants to paint again

all he’s done is brush strokes on the white paper, the shape vaguely like that of a flower but you cant ever tell what kind

he also keeps asking you if you can bring him lilies again

you do, and this time they live longer because you tend to them - and when you do you fail to realize that jihoon starts to watch you

he takes note of the way you move the vase with both hands

the way you keep the steams between the same two fingers every time

you arent burdened by the little chore because its takes at most five or so minutes out of the day

but jihoon unfolds each step you take like a storybook page

something in your gentleness entraps him

you make it look so easy, to love and provide for something

he knows a flower is one thing, a human is another - but

could you do that for him too?

he looks into his hands and the cup of coffee you made for him is sitting on the table to the left

have you already been doing it, all this time?

which is why on the day before the exhibition

when you ask him if he wants you to help him cancel it

he says no, he thinks he can fish something in time

you light up and ask if he’s finally found a new muse, but jihoon blinks slowly

“a new muse?”

“yes, i mean i thought - well i thought they were your muse and losing them meant you couldnt paint but if youre saying you can now then-

jihoon’s eyes turn to ice at the mention but then he shakes his head

“they ...... i never saw them as a muse.”

he stops to think on it, he isn’t lying

“but you loved them, i mean -”

he keeps his eyes down and you fidget, “sorry, let’s not talk about that.”

“i did, you’re right i did love them but that doesn’t mean they inspired me.”

he taps a finger and then looks at you

sitting across from him, how you’ve done a million times before

suddenly jihoon thinks if he can look at you like that for a little while longer

he can create again

he can paint something

so when he asks you to stay still, you do - and jihoon brings his pencil down to paper

only to get up half an hour later and take you with him

he sits you down again and sets up a bigger canvas this time, brings his paintbrushes

and then he moves the vase with the lily from behind him to sit at your feet

“jihoon, are you going to paint me?”

“yes”

“why?”

he looks from the lily to you

“because i want to, and it’s the first time in a while that i think ill be able to.”

you don’t realize it yourself not until you’ve fallen asleep in your position and jihoon is deep into his painting

that the muse you were talking about and thinking he’d lost

had been you all along

jihoon knew it, even when he was in a relationship, that there was no one else in this world that could make him paint

he’d felt it the first time you met in that art class, he’d watched you fumble through your drawing

and usually he wasn’t inspired to draw the mundane, the everyday

until he started seeing just how much it could mean to him

he had been painting that portrait of his ex out of obligation, they had asked him to do it

and so it had been taking a while - it had been unfinished not even because of the breakup but because jihoon didn’t want to do it

and yet here he was, the brush strokes pouring out of him in an attempt to capture every little detail there is to you

he had been wallowing in his pain and hadn’t bothered to look at you again

until you started to be there, everyday, like those lilies

and those lilies, beautiful and sweet

they were yours, you were theirs. to jihoon something about the silk of the petal and the sway of your hair made sense

he doesn’t wake you up, he’s been your friend long enough to know the parts of you he wants in the painting

he only stops when he’s done and his hair is stuck to him with sweat and the sun is rising outside his window

you’ve slumped over completely onto the couch and jihoon comes closer to move you into a more comfortable position

this is the first time in these weeks that he is taking care of you instead of the other way around

when his fingers touch your skin he suddenly feels the kind of sparking urge he has only felt with others who hes been intimate with

your small stir in his arms causes him alarm and excitement all at once, when your eyes open slightly he jumps back before he fears he’ll do something you wont like

in the morning, jihoon is passed out cold in his bed and you get up and rub your eyes

finally you let yourself move toward the canvas to see what jihoon has painted

its you.........its you in every way..........you stare at that face of yours like a mirrored reflection

seeing it like this something ties a knot in your heart

“is this what its like to be a muse?”

jihoon’s voice floats through the room

“you’ve always been mine.”

you turn - because you don’t think you’ve really heard it - maybe its just your drowsy imagination speaking

but jihoon is there and the phone is ringing, jeonghan about the exhibition

neither you or jihoon reach for the phone

instead you ask him,

“what do you mean?”

he doesn’t know how to explain it

instead he looks at you and then over his shoulder into his room

the exhibition doesnt start until the afternoon, and you are in his studio and you are whats brought him back from a point of emptiness

you are more than a muse

somehow you end up with his hand on yours again and this time that spark is searing up through both of you

jihoon’s paint stained fingers splay on the small of your back

you are still a little scared that its too early for this, if its just the wounds on his heart speaking

but jihoons lips only centimetres from yours promise that its more than that

its all that time wasted, his attention was yours that day in the art classroom

and he was an idiot for ever trying to put it on someone else

but like all good things - they come with time and if you want him how he wants you then hes here

and he’s ready to let this between you bloom into something more

you giggle when his breath tickles you before you finally kiss

you wonder if everyone will be surprised by that painting jihoon has done of you when its up in the wall of the gallery

when the lily petals fall from the flower in that vase and land at your entangled feet.

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen au #jihoon scenarios #jihoon imagines #jihoon au #woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi au #member: woozi #sfw #writing commissions #seventeen #woozi #park jihoon

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basicjetsetter · 3 years

Text

Part IV

♡ Pairing: Peter Parker x Black!FemaleReader

▹ Warnings: Little angst, Lot of anxiety, Fluff if you squint

▹ Words: 2.8k

▹ A/N: This chapter’s a bit on the short side, but it establishes a lot. Happy reading!

You’re not exactly sure how you pull it off, but you somehow manage to elude Peter for five straight days.

Playing the impromptu game of hide-and-not-be-seen was touch and go for the first two days, mainly because you weren’t sure what time you’d see Peter in the diner’s entrance. All you knew was that he’d show up early, whatever that meant. Almost every chiming bell sent your heart into overdrive, and whenever you thought you saw him, your stomach performed painful somersaults as you mapped out all likely escape routes.

No place in the diner was safe. Hal’s has a pretty simple layout: front entrance, booths to the immediate right, and bar with barstools to the immediate left, all in a shotgun fashion. If one were to try looking for someone, especially from the front entrance, all they’d have to do is marginally widen their field of vision, which is why the first two days were tricky.

The next day after the first run-in, about three hours earlier than his initial arrival, Peter came in through the front door, buddying up with Chris and asking for you.

You were clearing off an unoccupied table, piling dirty plates, when Chris called out, “Hey! How’s it hanging, Peter?” With the stack of dishes still clenched in your hands, you dropped down and crawled under the booth, coming face to face with an unsavory assortment of chewed-up gum underneath the table, holding your breath for dear life. Peter stayed for about ten agonizingly treacherous minutes as Chris failed to locate you.

On the second day, a sluggish Tuesday morning with only four regular patrons at the bar and no one in the booths, Peter had just walked through the entrance as you were coming out of the back, hand-carrying three of Hal’s famous Thin Mint Milkshakes. Without a thought, you spun right around and dashed in the opposite direction, busting through the employee door and colliding straight into Wendy. You’d never seen someone throw such a fit, but then again, you’d be pretty pissed too if someone coated you head-to-toe in milkshake.

That day was… eventful, to say the least, but it gifted you with the best estimate for Peter’s arrivals. Early meant 11:30 a.m. on the dot. Lunch. You tested out the time the next day, waiting behind the employee door and peering out the medium-sized port window. At 11:30 a.m., right on cue, was Peter, dapping Chris and ordering a slice of Banana Cream Pie to-go while also asking for your whereabouts, staying for only half an hour.

He left you a note each time he departed.

Can’t seem to catch you. I’ll try again tomorrow :) – Peter

Is this not a good time for you? I’ll stop by later if you want – Peter

Is everything alright? Text or call anytime you need me. I’ll be there – Peter

From the second note on, you found yourself captivated by his neat little scrawl and the way he always signed his name at the end, as if you’d forget it was him. You’d read them on your way home and right before falling asleep, trying and failing not to picture him smiling at you while you absent-mindedly smiled at his words.

Your friendly boy-next-door is so easy to fall for, but you just can’t do it. You can’t allow yourself to fall. Nobody would be there to pick you back up.

Some nights, you lied awake drafting a message that would effectively convince Peter that things wouldn’t work between you, that you’re a lost cause, and he should probably find some other connection if such a thing exists. But then, unfailingly, you’d think about his concerned little notes and sadly acknowledge that he deserves more than a measly text. After showing up to Hal’s for almost a whole week just to get to know you, Peter deserves the truth.

Your heart is not ready for a Soulmate, and it might not ever be.

By the fifth day, you spend a good chunk of time pondering over the right words to say to Peter while simultaneously hiding in the kitchen, pretending to prepare more fries. You never looked forward to hiding from him, but what other option did you have? Going out there and letting your coworkers and boss know he’s your Soulmate? They wouldn’t shut up about it, especially not Chris, the open romantic.

When your shift ended that day, and you walked up to Chris so he could hand you Peter’s fifth note, he emphatically shook his head.

“On behalf of my new friend, Peter, I can’t in good faith give this to you,” he stated, tucking the folded paper into his back pocket and crossing his arms. “Not until you tell me why you’re dodging him.”

You frowned, crossing your arms too. “It’s really none of your business, Chris.”

“True, but it’s his.” The little dig got to you, making you wince. Chris continued softly, “Look, he won’t tell me what’s up with you two, either. And, trust me, I've asked. It's just... I’m kinda involved now, being the messenger and all, so shouldn’t I know some of the situation?”

“No…?” you hedged.

Chris didn’t budge.

You couldn’t think of a lie on the spot, and a half-truth would only further complicate things. Treading the fine line of what’s too much information and what’s not enough left you frustratingly tongue-tied. What’s specific enough to still be vague? Chris stared at you expectantly with a petulant little lift in his brow, ignoring a customer’s disgruntled calls for a refill in the napkin dispenser.

In the end, you huffed out a resigned breath and hesitantly admitted, “Peter's someone I knew from high school—a really nice guy.” For Chris’s benefit, you added, “He just likes to check up on me every now and then. You know how I don’t get out that much…”

And in a heartbeat, Chris morphed from a tough enquirer to a softened pile of dough, sagely nodding his head as if he knew all too well how reserved you are and how much of a losing battle it is persuading you to venture out. Or maybe it was because he understood how difficult it is to reconnect with people you unwilfully lost touch with for five years.

How everything and everyone fell right back into step with everyday life, like five years was just five minutes, continues to boggle your mind. It’s not normal. You won’t ever pretend that it is.

The disgruntled man shouted, “Can I get any damn service around here?”

Chris immediately broke from the conversation and left you behind the bar, off to go charm the customer’s socks off and earn a nice $10 tip even though he clocked out ten minutes ago.

You went on your way home, the ever-present anxiety of confronting Peter growing by the second.

Hours later, dressed down to your pajamas and reading his words over again, you’re still thinking about it, dread now gnawing on your insides.

You couldn’t even enjoy your newfound peace of mind. Ever since the voice stopped, Peter twined into all of your thoughts: his notes, his visits, his smile, your connection to him. There had to be a reason why destiny paired you. Besides being your Soulmate, what is he to you? What are you to him?

Unrest barred you from sleep for most of the night, and when you woke up the next morning, showered and ready to tackle another day, it hit you.

It’s Saturday—your day off this week—and you’re not scheduled to go back to work until Monday.

You could put off telling him… but what would be the point? It’d only prolong the inevitable. You needed to come clean today.

Picking up your phone, you steadily tap in his memorized cell number, then type:

-Hey Peter, it’s Y/N. Can you come by my place? We need to talk.

Three minutes later, he texts back.

-On my way.

✦ ✧✦ ✧

A nice, early summer breeze billows around you, doing its best to calm down your erratic nerves as you wait for Peter on the roof.

Are you doing the right thing?

Will Peter be okay with this?

What if he isn’t?

You jump out of your skin at the muffled Thwip and sudden appearance of Peter standing a few feet away.

His chestnut hair is windswept, and he’s wearing regular clothes, a faded blue Midtown High hoodie and denim jeans. You weren’t sure why you expected him to come dressed in his suit. It could be because you heard the sound of his web-slinger first and immediately thought of Spider-Man, but it’s more likely that your brain hasn’t connected that they are one and the same. You don’t see Spider-Man when you see him. All you see is Peter.

He’s tense, not moving an inch closer and keeping his shoulders pinched up like he’s on the defense. You can’t guess why he would be.

Gulping down a hard lump lodged in your throat, you stutter, “H-hi.”

He gives you a polite smile that doesn’t reach his sullen eyes. “Hey”

You both begin at the same time.

“Peter, I—”

“Look, Y/N—”

Ice floods your stomach, freezing your veins and squeezing your pounding heart. He has something to say to you? About what? You subtly jerk your head up, signaling for him to speak first.

Peter clears his throat, looks down at his shoes, then back up at you. “I know you’ve been hiding from me.”

“You do?” you squeak, eyes wide.

“Yeah, and it’s okay.”

Your voice hikes an octave. “It is?”

He nods. “Yeah. It’s fine. I get it.” He stops to scratch the back of his neck and dejectedly rambles on, “I’m not the safest person to be around, and it’s all super weird and a lot to take in. Like, a lot. My Aunt May freaked out too when she found out. Anyway, I… I get it if you don’t, y’know, don’t want me.”

“Wait, hold on,” you interrupt, trying to wrap your head around what he said. “You think… you think I don’t want you because you’re Spider-Man?”

“Well, yeah.” He says it like there couldn’t be any other possible reason.

You lower your gaze to the ground, unable to meet his curious gaze. “No, Peter, that’s not it.” Tears prick your eyes, but you fight like hell to keep them from falling. Steeling yourself, you quietly confess, “It’s me. I can’t be your Soulmate because…” A rebellious tear rolls down your cheek. “Because I’m not ready.”

As soon as you spoke the truth out loud, laying yourself and your broken soul bare, you dimly sense the previously severed string quiver deep down inside your chest. It’s the first time you felt it in five years, and it’s not how you remember it. It’s not severed, but it’s not whole either. Its presence only reminds you of what you can’t have, what you aren’t ready for.

In the ensuing quiet, you swipe the tear off your cheek and look at everything except Peter. Yellow tulips are blooming on someone’s balcony in the neighboring apartment building. A handful of fluffy clouds float in the piercing blue sky. An orange tabby cat is sun-bathing in a window.

It’s such a beautiful day. Yet, here you are, struggling not to cry on a roof.

Peter breaks through the silence, murmuring, “To be honest, I’m not ready either.”

“Really?” You ask, a little too hopeful, bringing your eyes back to his. They look so weary yet resolute.

“Yeah. I was actually freaking out that night we met.” He timidly grins, and your heart flips. “I didn’t know what to say, then I screwed up and forgot to ask if you were okay after I had literally just saved you from falling. Not really a glowing first impression.”

Astonishing yourself, you laugh. You couldn’t help it. There was absolutely nothing remotely hilarious about that night, but the way Peter described it, as if it were a blunder solely on his part, was so ridiculous that it was funny. Peter joins in, too, his laugh coming out airy and wondrously addictive. That smile you couldn’t stop thinking about for a whole week brightens his face.

When the laughs fade, Peter soberly says, “Even if we aren’t ready, maybe we can try being friends, just to see where things go? I mean, we were meant to be together for a reason, right? This could be it.”

You unconsciously nibble on your lower lip, considering his proposal. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might want to be friends. Would you want to do that? These days, you aren’t really open to platonic relationships, and Soulmate or not, being in a friendship would require some sort of connection. You don’t like those much.

Be that as it may, Peter seems like the type to respect your many boundaries, and that’s exactly what you would prefer in a friend at the moment. Someone who doesn’t pry. Someone who doesn’t uphold generic expectations. You could go for a diner talk every once in a while.

Besides, it’s just a little friendship. Most are surface level, and some don’t even last a year. What’s the worst that could happen?

You sincerely smile at Peter, wondering about the last time your smiles were sincere, and say, “Okay. Let’s be friends.”

His face radiates joy. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think we can do that. But I have a few terms.”

Peter eagerly nods, waiting.

You try not to focus on how his happiness thrills you. “One, don’t tell anyone we’re Soulmates. I don’t really want any of my coworkers to know.”

His smile drops into a sheepish wince. “I kinda already told Ned. But he won’t tell anyone, I swear.”

“That’s okay. It’s mostly my coworkers I’m worried about,” you reassure. You weren’t going to berate him for telling his best friend. If things were different, you’d have done the same. “Two, don’t ask me to hang out with your other friends. I don’t do big friend circles.”

“Got it,” he militantly nods again. “It’s mostly just Ned and me anyway.”

“And three,” your grin broadens. “If Chris asks you what’s going on between us, be super vague.”

“Done.” He smirks back at you, then extends his hand. “Friends?”

When your hand touches his, and you shake on it, the warmth of his palm thaws out all your remaining anxiety. “Friends.”

✦ ✧✦ ✧

When Monday rolls around, a tiny ball of doubt weighs you down.

It’s not that you were afraid of talking to Peter. You were actually looking forward to getting to know him now that you officially became friends. It’s the future you’re stuck on. What happens if you get too attached to this friendship and want more? What if friendship is all he wants? What if it’s the other way around?

If you were honest with yourself, you’d know which way the gage is leaning, and it’s not in your favor.

You’re cleaning off the bar top when Peter comes in, doing his usual greeting with Chris before settling down on a barstool in front of you. He’s a little high strung, leaning his chin on his hand, then thinking against it, only to do it again. It was oddly comforting to know that he was overthinking too.

The corners of your lips tug up in a soft smile. “Hi, Peter.”

Your face warms as he smiles back. “Hey, Y/N.”

Chris barges in, leaning his elbows on the bar top and gaping incredulously at you and Peter. “Woah, woah, woah! Did I miss something? Since when are you two speaking in public?”

Peter checks his watch. “About thirty-seven seconds ago.”

“Oh, come on, dude. At least tell me what happened.”

You and Peter share a knowing look like two conniving co-conspirators sharing an inside joke, and you giggle as Chris huffs in annoyance. He glumly storms off when you two stay hushed, muttering, “Fine, next time you need a middle-man, count me out.”

“Does he hold grudges?” Peter asks after Chris walks out of earshot.

You’re still shaking with giggles. “Not at all. He’ll be back to his happy self in less than an hour.”

Peter only stays at Hal’s for twenty-five minutes, but they were the funniest and most intriguing twenty-five minutes you ever worked.

The conversation began slowly at first, but each question loosened the formalities. Peter asked about easy things: when did you get into art, when did you start working at Hal’s, and when was your birthday, all while digging into his slice of pie. He caught on fast enough to know the topic of parents was off-limits, and he thankfully chose to stay away from any talk of the blip.

When you asked him questions, he was open and responsive, jumping at the chance to talk about his passion for bio-sciences and Star Wars, sometimes covertly mentioning some of the duties he has a Spider-Man. Not a minute was wasted. You talked while serving customers and cleaning tables, keeping up the joke of staying quiet when Chris tried to meddle.

It all turned out smoother than you expected. Almost too smooth, and you’re not sure if that’s good or bad.

You are sure about one thing, though. You like having Peter as a friend.

...

Part V

#peter parker #peter parker x black!reader #peter parker x reader #spider-man x black!reader #spider-man x reader #soulmate au #post endgame #pre far from home #peter parker soulmate au #peter parker angst #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #marvel fanfic #black!reader #slow burn #how to trust a heart #peter parker fluff

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nahoyaglock · 3 years

Text

📃 AS I AM CHAPTER 3 — Discovery

SUMMARY — You knew Kageyama Tobio since you both were in diapers, being close family 'friends'. You always wanted to befriend the quiet kid but no matter your efforts, he would never crack. When you transfer schools and meet Kageyama again, what will happen to your relationship?

PAIRING — family friend!kageyama x y/n

GENRE — fluff/crack/angst

WARNINGS — kags being a bigger meanie

WORD COUNT — 2.6k

FIND THE MASTERLIST HERE

It has been about more than two weeks since your first day at Karasuno, already creating good bonds with Hinata, Nishinoya, Yamaguchi, and even Tsukishima. You were pretty close to all of them, spending alot of time together at lunch or after school, and even during the weekend. They wanted you to feel welcome, after all, you even had a little text group chat.

(Sent October 10th at 11:15 am)

Y/N: [Good morning yall, and happy birthday noya!]

Shoyo: [HAPPY BIRTHDAY NOYA!]

Tadashi: [goodmorning and happy bday!]

Tsukki: [morning, happy birthday]

Noya: [GOOD MORNING, AND THANKS GUYS!]

You smiled down at your phone before shutting it off. Since it was Noyas birthday, your mom let him and your friends come over, it also being a Saturday. You planned to have a sleepover with your new friends, Kageyama, and Tanaka of course. You had finished cleaning your living room, and despite it being small, it was big enough to fit a bunch of enthusiastic dorks, and Tsukishima.

You had begun cooking lunch, making sandwiches for you and Hinata, who was already on his way to your house. "Good morning honey," your mom spoke softly, rubbing her eyes as she walked past you to the coffee maker. "Good morning mom, Hinatas on his way here already," you smile and finish the sandwiches, putting them on a plate and walking to the living room.

"Okay, I have work today so ill be out for a little bit, tell Nishinoya I said happy birthday and Kageyama I said hello," she chuckled as she started the machine. You nodded and heard the doorbell ring, causing you to sit up and smile in excitement, placing the play down on the couch. "Thats Shoyo!"

You hop to the front door and immediately unlock the door, greeting the orange haired male with a smile that was matching his. "Hey y/n!" He greets and you let him in, closing the door behind himself. "Hi Shoyo, I made lunch," you say and lead him to the living room. "Wow, your house is really cute," he giggles and sets his bags and blanket in the corner next to the couch.

"Im glad you think so, I think Tanaka is arriving next, but i could be wrong," you say and plot down on the couch, hinata following your movements. "When is Kageyama coming?" He asks and rests his head on your shoulder, head tilted so he can look at you, but you just shrug. "He hasn't answered me since I sent him the invite yesterday," you say before handing him the plate and taking your sandwich.

"What? He answered me this morning," Hinata said and pulled his phone out of his pocket, going to his text messages with Kageyama. "Yeah, he texted me this morning, asked if i was coming to the sleepover," he said and you sae him typing on his screen. You felt hurt, Kageyama always answered you, whether it was one word, or even one letter, he always answered.

"Ah, he might've forgotten, i wont hold it against him," you smiled and decided to shake it off, it was Noyas birthday and you were ready to have fun. You and Hinata watched a bit of Netflix and ate a bit more than just the sandwhiches you made. It had been about more than an hour since the next person appeared, hearing the doorbell ring as you were in the middle of showing Hinata baby pictures of you and Kageyama.

"Ah, I bet its Tsukishima and Tadashi! Or just Tadashi!" Hinata shouts, jumping up, you following after him with a big goofy smile on your face as you both run to the door. "Its definitely Tanaka! Im calling it!" You laugh, barely able to keep up with the small male as he opens the door. As you looked at the male at the door, you and Hinata both shouted at the same time.

"Tadashi!"

"Tanaka!"

"K-kageyama?" You questioned and Hinata sighed, walking back to your room, sulking. "Its just Kageyama," he complaimed and Kageyama glared at him. "Whats that supposed to mean dumbass!" You let him in and close the door behind him as he kicks off his shoes. "Kags, you didnt bring any bags? Like, more than one?" You ask and walk to your room, seeing him hesitate to say respond.

"I'm not staying over. I just wanted to wish Nishinoya a happy birthday, i thought more people would be here by now," he nonchalantly responds, almost irritating you. "Well, you could've answered my text with a yes or no, or tell me that," you say and turn to face him, kicking his ankle softly. "Sorry," he muttered.

You entered your room with Kageyama and saw Hinata checking out your wall of pictures, filled with pictures of you and kageyama as children, you and your mom, and your friends from Nekoma. "Hey, is that Kenma?" He asked, turning his head to look at you and Kageyama with a curious face.

"Oh, yeah it is," you answer and walk over to the spot next to hinata. "Ah, Inuoka! Lev!" He exclaims with a excited expression, carefully scanning the pictures. "Is this the Nekoma volleyball club?" He asked, looking up at you with admiration as you confirm that it is.

"Thats so cool! You know Kuroo?!" He said, looking at another photo, one dear to your heart. It was the last time you saw them, you had a sleepover at Kuroos house, all the boys attending. You were wrapped in Kuroo and Inuokas arms, the 2nd years sitting on the couch in the back with the rest of the members asleep, or running around.

"Yeah, he acts like my brother sometimes. This was from our last sleepover before i came here," you state and he puts it back in his place when he hears the doorbell. "Okay, this time its DEFINITELY Tanaka!" You slap Hinatas arm and you two, once again, race to the front door. "Its gotta be Tadashi!" He once again opens the door to be met with Tanaka, causing you to shout in glory, hinata groaning.

"Uh, hello to you too," he laughs and steps over Hinata who dramatically fell to his knees. "Sorry, we were betting on who would arrive next," you laughed as he put his stuff next to Hinatas and saw Kageyama come out of your room. "Hey Tanaka," he greeted and you all sat on the couch, continuing the movie you and Hinata had started. After about 30 minutes more, there was a knock on the door.

"Thats definently Tsukishima," You say and Hinata nods as you stand up to open the door, greeting the tall blonde, noticing Tadashi and Noya behind him. "Hey Tsukki, Tadashi, and happy birthday Noya!" You greet, patting Tsukishimas arm and hugging the last two. "Everyones here, so lets get started, hmm?"

As everyone gets their stuff situated, you head to your room to get your phone and order some take out and remind your mom to get a cake before heading back out to your friends. "Noya, you ca– Noya?" You giggled softly, seeing him wrapped in a giant fluffy blanket, and he smiles. "Yes?"

"Ah, I was gonna say you can choose a movie, unless you wanna do anything else before the food arrives," you bounce before taking a seat between Tsukishima and Hinata. "Movie please, i dont want to even know what hes thinking right now," Tsukishima said, his expression was serious. You elbow him with a chuckle that follows, "its his birthday, cut him some slack."

You all decided to play a few games with an old movie playing as background noise. Truth or dare, would you rather, never have I ever, and some board games, Tsukishima winning monopoly. He was currently boasting to Kageyama with a smug look on his face as the doorbell rang.

"Food!" You shouted and jumped up to answer the door, quickly paying for the food and closing the door before bringing it to the small coffee table in your living room. "Also my mom should be home in a few minutes so call down with all the cursing Tanaka," you laughed and opened the food boxes before grabbing some plates and utensils for them to serve themselves.

You guys ate and finally put on a movie, moving the coffee table to you, Noya, Tanaka, Tadashi, and Hinata could all huddle up on the floor infront of the tv, leaving Tsukishima and Kageyama on the couch. "Hey, im home honey. Hi boys," your mom called, a big bag in hands as she slipped off her shoes. "Hi y/ns mom!" Noya called and she brought the cake over to you.

"Happy birthday Noya, and hello Kageyama, its been a while since ive seen you, you're so big," your mom patted his shoulder and he nodded. "Hello Mrs. y/l/n," he spoke politely as Tsukishima quietly laughed at him. "Behave okay? Im heading to bed. Oh, and Kageyama, your mother invited us over tomorrow so i can take you home tomorrow, " she flashed a warm smile and your face lit up as you sat up from the cuddle pile.

"I haven't been to your house in years," you exclaim and placed a hand on Kageyamas knee, giggling. He shifted a bit, causing your hand to fall and he hummed, "because Tokyo is far." You roll your eyes and lay down back between Nishinoya and Hinata. "And im not sleeping over, my moms coming in 10 minutes to pick me up."

"Ah, well either way, ill see you tomorrow Tobio," your mom waved and left to her room. It was silent as you guys kept your eyes glued to the screen. Eventually Kageyama left, so Tsukishima joined the cuddle pile until you guys got tired. Hinata and Tadashi took the couch, Tanaka and Nishinoya draped over each other near the couch, Tsukishima laying next to you on the blanket that covered the itchy carpet.

You sat up, on your phone after your friends from Nekoma decided to blow up your phone.

"You still awake?" You jumped at the voice, thinking everyone was asleep, and you turned to the voice to see the salty blonde slipping on his glasses. "Yeah, my friends texted me," you whispered before turning off your phone, the room being engulfed by darkness and you took your spot next to Tsukishima. "So you and Kageyama?" He propped his head up on his hand as he looked at you.

"Yeah, he's weird. He hasn't been talking to me that much the past few weeks." You rest your head on the pillow and pull the blanket up over you. Tsukishima hums lightly before fixing his pillow, "is he always like this? He doesnt seem that way around the team."

"I guess? Hes always been dry and stand offish since we were children, but to other people he was different." You felt tired, and Tsukishima could sense it. "Rest, worry your head tomorrow." He pats your head before taking his glasses back off and lays down, you smile. "Thanks Tsukki."

"Dont call me that."

—

Once it became morning, Tanaka and Nishinoya were the firsts to leave, followed by Tadashi. You had just come out of the shower, finding Hinata folding his blankets and cleaning up the living room, and Tsukishima talking to your mom in the kitchen as he helped wash dishes. "Good morning mom," you yawned and grabbed a key from one of the drawers. "Im gonna stop by the store, wanna come with Tsukki? Hinata?"

Tsukishima looked at your mom and she nodded, telling him it was okay and that she'd finish the dishes on her own. You left the house with the two males, taking the short walk to the store. "You're going to Kageyamas right?" Hinata asked, bouncing to keep warm in the cold air. You nod and swing the keys around your finger, "yeah, in a few hours, oh! Let me text him."

(Sent October 11th at 1:17 pm)

Y/N: [Morning Tobio!]

[I'll see you in a few hours!]

As you waited for his answer, Tsukishima spoke up. "Not to.. seem like im putting you on the spot but.. doesn't he ignore you?" He kept his hands in his pockets and his gaze forward and Hinata gasped, "Tsukki that sounds mean!" He smacked his arm, causing the taller to look down at him. "I'm just saying that its not the best way to treat someone," he rolls his eyes and Hinata scoffs. "As if you can talk."

You sigh and laugh, placing a hand on both the males arms, "calm down you two, geez." They relax in your touch and Tsukishima continues. "Seriously tho, he could be just, y'know.. being a bitch," he he spoke, putting an emphasis on bitch. "Or he could be hiding something!" Hinata gasps and you laugh at them. "Yeah yeah, but its whatever really, this is how ive always seen Tobio, it'd be weird if he was any different. Though id like it alot if he DID be a little less dry."

You remembered the talk you and Tsukishkma had before, he always brought up Kageyama and your relationship with him. Soon you started to think the same was he did. Was Kageyama really just being mean? Isnt that just how he always is? Why does he act different around others? Was it you, or was it him?

—

You kicked off your shoes as you stepped into the warm house with a bright smile, "hello Mrs. Kageyama!" You greeted as she pulled you into a hug. "Hello y/n, my you've grown! Tobio is in his room, can you take him his plate? This one is your" She said and handed you two plates. You smiled and nodded your head like a gibby child and she patted your back as you made youe way to Kageyamas room. You kicked on the door because your arms were occupied.

You heard a bed creak and a few seconds after, the door opened and was almost closed back in your face if it weren't for him catching a glimpse at the plates. "Come in," he mumbled and let you in. You walked over to his bed and put his plate down on his bed and sat on the end as he closed the door. "Wow, your room has changed alot," you smile and look around the room at his posters and pictures on the walls.

"Mhm," he plopped back down on his bed and went on his phone. You noticed this and furrowed your brows, taking a bite of your food. "You know, for someone on their phone alot, you sure do ignore my texts alot," you mainly joked, but you guessed that he didnt catch on when his expression changed and he mumbled an apology. Was that guilt on his face?

You decided to stay silent and just scroll through social media and eat your food. After a few minutes of just silence, Kageyama finished his plate and got up to take it upstairs. "Hey Kags," you called before he left and you held your plate out to him, "can you take this for me?"

"You barely ate any thing," he said and you shook the plate a little bit, causing him to grab it, scared it would fall. "I'll bring you a meatbun," he murmured and left the room. You smiled slightly at the mention of meatbuns, and stood up to stretch your legs.

You grabbed a napkin from Kageyamas bedside dresser and wiped any food off of your mouth. He had a small trash bin in the corner of his room, so you went to throw away your napkin, looking at his posters and pictures on the wall. When you opened the bin, there was a large stack of pictures atop all of the trash.

All being pictures that had you and him in them.

#as i am*series #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio au #kageyama tobio fanfic #haikyuu fanfic #hq fanfic

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