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#like literally everything is either expensive as all hell (that would making it by myself be too but that come with a feeling of accomplish
horce-divorce · 2 months
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i'm so over this delta 8 shit. like yeah it's better than not having anything but it's not weed and it's not doing the same thing. i miss weed so much. d8 makes me cough so bad, it's weak as hell even when it's really good stuff, and it seemingly has 0 cbd compounds unless you buy the more expensive, cbd added/"live resin" type stuff. it doesn't help my pain at all, and its so much more expensive than weed no matter how you slice it. plus we always need more of it bc it's so weak. those 1g carts from Michigan were lasting Bel and I about 3 days each between the two of us. we go through a whole 2g cart of d8 in that amount of time or less. it's ridiculous.
and the thing is, when i lived here before, yeah, i had like 3 or 4 weedguys i could rotate between to get real stuff anyway. not so anymore. i've been gone for almost 4 years and they've really been cracking down on drugs around here in the interim. it's given the d8 market a massive foothold, but it's seriously been impossible to find a regular weedguy. every time we've almost found a lead, we start hearing about raids or the guy goes MIA. we'd basically either have to drive to the border ourselves at this point, or just cave and use the d8 that's available locally. and we're broke, so we've been doing the latter, obviously lol
weed has been keeping me off a feeding tube for years. my doctors in michigan told me outright to keep using it because they didn't want to prescribe me opioids. and then i move back to the only state in this whole area where weed is still illegal lmao. d8 has been keeping me off a tube lately, but tbqh i don't think it will continue to. my MALS attacks have been getting more frequent (which makes my POTS a lot worse), I'm eating less again, and even when i do manage to eat, it takes so much out of me and is still so painful, I usually end up having to sleep afterwards. i'm losing so much of my day just for having the audacity to feed myself and it's making me depressed again. i'm even on an antidepressant this time!!! it's also helping a little bit with the pain, but not enough to matter in the long run. i'm still gonna end up on a tube at this rate.
i'm also just sick of living in wisconsin so that makes me cranky, too. i love who i live with, being with my boyfriend and my roommate is great, but i've spent like 16 years living in wisconsin against my will already and somehow I KEEP fucking ending up back here, always against my will, and it's always pissed me off, but now it ALSO has the audacity to be the one (1) state in the whole area that won't let me have the one medication all my doctors have agreed is saving my life. every other state touching us, on every single side, has weed. canada has weed. 24 fucking states have legalized it. but no, wisconsin has to stick it's heels in the mud and keep that boot on our necks at ANY cost, especially over a change that would benefit literally everyone and increase revenue overall. i fucking hate it here.
america as a whole needs to get it's head out of it's ass about pain management. not just cannabis, but opioids and any other alternatives, too. but of course, the cruelty is the point. they want us to be suffering. they want to torture us. they want us to be stuck in ineffective health management loops until we die. more profit for insurance companies and hospitals, less "handouts" needed back, less conscientious objectors and protestors and political dissidents to be bothersome, less noisy disabled voices calling for justice in the world.
i am determined to keep trying to manage my MALS for as long as I can without getting surgery and, hopefully, without being on opioids (not because I buy into the fearmongering, but because of how strict the rules are about being prescribed them, about the lists you end up on, the random piss tests, and all the other bureaucratic crap that comes along with it). and if we end up staying here long-term, then yeah I will be doing everything i can to try and get weed legalized here to.
but i'm just pissed. and tired. i'm sick of having to fight for my stupid little life from every single facet, like, i'm fighting for my life and kicking screaming throwing up etc and it barely even amounts to a squeak in the grand scheme of things.
welp. too bad. i'm surviving out of spite. oh, i don't matter? cool, then it won't matter if I stay alive a bit longer and keep taking those pithy handouts, i guess! thanks! 🤪
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swiftlymoniquesblog · 11 months
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Autograph With Jared Padalecki 2/4/23
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Hi friends! So I thought I’d share with everyone what my autograph session with Jared was like this year. As some of you know, this year was my second Supernatural convention. My first one didn’t quite go as planned and I didn’t have as good of a story as I do this year. So for context, my first convention was in 2019 after I graduated from college, then I was supposed to go again in July 2020 for my birthday weekend but we all know what happened there…STUPID COVID. The convention was postponed to March 2021 but once again, COVID canceled it so instead of waiting for the next postponed date and I didn't know what 2022 would hold, I asked for my money back. Since then, I was diagnosed with anxiety in May of 2020 and as a token for me to continue my fight, I wanted a Supernatural related tattoo. I decided to go with Always Keep Fighting because it reminds me to never give up anytime I feel low and since Jared was a giant part of Supernatural (obviously), I can say I have a Supernatural tattoo.
Fast forward to this year and I got tickets to go to the Dallas Convention! Of course, I was thrilled but I was also anxious because I wanted to make sure I showed Jared my tattoo. Let me tell y’all a bit about meeting Jared. He is literally THE NICEST person on the face of the Earth. He has a way of making you feel totally comfortable with him, he makes you feel special and important when you talk to him and even though photos and autographs happen in a short time frame, he still manages to show just how much he cares about you. He is just as happy and excited to be meeting you as you are to be meeting him.
On the second day of the convention, my best friend and I woke up WAY too early but we got to the convention and this was the day where the majority of the photos and autographs were going to happen. To say we were excited was an understatement. After we picked out our outfits and put our makeup on, we went to the venue and found our seats. Looking at the schedule, we were figuring out when everything was going to be and where we would have to be for each event. Most everything went by very quickly and that's typical for these conventions. In the past, if you wanted to have more time with Jensen and Jared, you would have to buy either of the two most expensive admission passes for an autograph. Luckily for everyone this year, they offered an a la carte ticket (meaning you can get an autograph for cheaper) and still have the same experience. Although you would be called one of the last groups, it’s still a cheaper way to go. I’d done the second most expensive ticket before and would’ve done it again, but the seating changed and we would’ve sat further from the stage.
Jumping to the autograph sessions, I was called to stand in Jensen’s line first, then Jared’s. Of course, I was nervous but I reminded myself I had done this before and it was super fun. One thing I love about conventions is all the people you meet. Ever feel out of place for something you love? Go to a comic convention or a specialty convention and you’ll be surrounded by others who all love the same thing you do; boom, instant friends. After Jensen, it was time for me to head over to Jared’s line. This was going to be a critical time for me because I have an Always Keep Fighting tattoo and the entire reason I got an autograph was to show Jared. I mean, I kept telling my best friend to remind me to tell him because I was afraid I was going to forget!
When the big moment came and it was my turn to talk to him, it went something like this: (M for me, J for Jared)
M: Hi Jared! J: Hi doll!
I watch him as he takes my 15th-season jacket and starts signing it.
M: So I have an AKF tattoo.
This prompts Jared to stop and look up at me, showing him the colorful tattoo that is on the left side of my chest, exactly where the Winchesters have their anti-possession symbols.
J: Oh wow, that’s so cool! M: Thanks! It hurt like hell. J: I was going to say but I was afraid to ask. M: No it’s okay. It was worth it though because you’re worth it to me. I have anxiety and I will do anything I can to keep you close to me at all times.
He gives me the most caring and concerned look I’ve ever seen him do as he hears me talk about my own struggles with mental health.
J: Well you’re worth it, too. *insert adorable smile with dimples here* M: Thank you.
And with that, I walked away and no more than five minutes went by and I’m in tears. The thing about mental health is that you can’t control it. It’s a struggle, a never-ending battle within yourself; you are your worst enemy. For me, it's something I most likely have had for years, and up until my diagnosis, did any of it make sense. But I got answers and I got help, so sharing that with Jared, even just a little bit, made the struggle seem worth it. Of course, I was embarrassed but I had friends who came by and hugged me, offered me tissues and even a snack. All of which just made it a little easier. When I see my tattoo now, I smile and remember this interaction with Jared. It was so quick but it meant everything to me. I will always have this to look back on and feel joy and pride, knowing I went through the pain and was able to show the man who inspired it, the very thing I got. I am so thankful to have Jared in my life, even just having met him twice, he has become such an important part of me. He has helped remind me that yes, I am important, I am loved, and I am not alone. He is a stranger but he makes you feel like he has known you for years. Not sure how he does it but he cares and it means the world. @sam-winchester-admiration-league @fandom-princess-forevermore @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @thewinchesterdaily @thinkinghardhardlythinking
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speakingagain · 1 month
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I am 24 years old. So far, being in my 20's I have learned quite a bit. First off, you think you know anything about life, you're wrong. Especially when you are just becoming an adult.
Second, your 20's will not be the best years of your life. Literally everyone lied about it. Being an adult sucks, and it doesn't get better. You just learn to manage it better.
Your 20's are just your era to actually figure out what you're going to do with your life and who you are as a person.
Here's what I have learned so far about life and myself:
1) Coffee is my addiction and I have no plans on getting rid of it. If I could, I'd replace my blood with a cold brew.
2) I'm worth more than I have ever thought, and I only learned this because others valued me less than I should have been.
3) Milk is expensive. Gas is expensive. Paint is expensive. Existing is expensive.
4) No matter how appealing it is to hit someone, I would NOT thrive in jail. Even if they deserve it.
5) I have serious issues letting go of things. Physically, or emotionally. I hold grudges. And I keep shit I don't need. I actually have an entire box of shit from people I hate that I refuse to get rid of purely because I want to burn it, but I have no way of doing that safely unless I go up to my family cabin which is a hour away and has other members of my family there pretty much all the time and I'm not about that.
6) I want to be an extrovert but I genuinely hate people and I don't think that will ever change.
7) I got drunk and ate an edible once before a work Christmas party for a job I got laid off from a week before and went as a plus one for someone. Apparently people were highly concerned about me because I was talking so much.
8) People genuinely don't give a shit about what you're doing. More often than not, they find you amusing or slightly annoying. And they go on about their day. Do the weird thing you love, because it makes you happy. Even if you get weird stares. It's worth it.
9) I like cleaning and having things clean. But I hate having to clean. Having a clean space has scientific research behind it, stating that it helps improve your mental state. Do I know this very well? Yup. Do I actually keep my shit clean? Hell no.
10) Your mom will tell you that you're an adult and don't need a mother anymore and then when she wants you to do something you don't want to do, she will say, "I am your mother" to get you to do it.
11) My mom is the coolest person ever because she will vape THC with me (medical purposes duh) before bed and then sit on the balcony and laugh and giggle while staring at the stars with me. It is one of my favorite things to do with her and I really hate the fact that winter doesn't allow that.
12) Your shitty job that doesn't pay you a livable wage genuinely doesn't give a fuck about you. You can get better jobs with little to no experience that pay you well and offers decent benefits. Just quit applying to anything that focuses on customer service and the like.
13) Everyone is dead inside in Walmart. Everyone.
14) Promoting people who are being rude in stores (looking at you Karen) to use their words and ask for what they need is either going to get them to behave like an adult or royally piss them off. Either way, it's hilarious.
15) If you're starting off with nothing and money is tight, the dollar store has literally everything required to start up your kitchen.
15a) do not buy a can opener from the dollar store. It will break every time you use it. Spend a few extra bucks and go to Walmart or target.
15b) thrift stores sells random bundles of kitchen ware for like $2. I once found a $400 set of kitchen knives for $8 that just needed sharpened and CAME WITH THE SHARPENER.
16) If you can't afford to do something nice for yourself every once in a while like go get your nails done or a new pair of sneakers or whatever floats your boat, buy yourself that nice expensive toilet paper. Your booty deserves the best and it's relatively cheap compared to the other things you can't afford but love.
17) You can work on improving yourself, even if you don't have a therapist. Start asking yourself the hard questions you don't want to answer.
19) It is okay to be upset. It is okay to be angry. It is okay to be sad. It is okay to express them. What isn't okay, is forcing everyone to feel your emotions and make them everyone else's problems.
20) I have no idea what I'm doing most of the time, and I'm not sure I will ever really know but it's a vibe.
21) Remember to relax your shoulders and your jaw.
22) I am actually a pretty good looking person, but I prefer to be comfy and wear 'unflattering' things than to cater to other people's images of beauty.
23) Space heaters are way cheaper than using gas to heat your home. Electricity is cheaper than gas. Candles can also be used to heat but aren't as effective, but can be used if you have no power.
24) know your tenant laws. Record every conversation with your landlord, or office people anywhere you rent. They will screw you over just because they assume you don't know your rights. They differ for each state but they are there to protect you from sleezy landlords. Which is 99.99% of landlords.
25) Feeling crappy? Make sure your basic needs have been met. Food, water (not coffee), hygiene, sleep, and attention. That will probably solve your problem.
I had a whole point to this post today. I don't remember what it was at this point. Stay safe y'all, and take care of yourself ❣️
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dyingclown · 1 month
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yall i dyed my hair on saturday and TURNS OUT IM ALLERGIC TO THE DYE WE USED?AFJSFLALFDSHKJ
graphic description of allergic reaction on scalp below the cut and ALSO rambling about things going on in my life
I WAS SUPPOSED TO KEEP THE COLOR ON FOR 30 MINUTES BUT I COULD ONLY MANAGE 15 MINUTES (WHICH I SPENT SOBBING IN AGONY) BECAUSE I FELT LIKE AN ENTIRE COLONY OF FIRE ANTS HAD BEEN PLANTED IN MY BRAIN AND WERE EATING AWAY THROUGH MY SCALP
AND NOW THE ENTIRE TOP LAYER OF MY SCALP IS PEELING OFF 💀💀💀 IT KEEPS COMING OFF IN THESE DISGUSTING CHUNKS OF FLESH AND THE FLESH IS RED BECAUSE I DYED MY HAIR RED
MY HAIR LOOKS SO GOOD BUT I AM IN PAIN
AND I CANT STOP PICKING AT MY SCALP EITHER
I ALREADY HAVE A SKIN PICKING/SCAB PICKING PROBLEM TO BEGIN WITH, AND COUPLED WITH MY OTHER SCALP PICKING PROBLEM, THIS IS A LIVING NIGHTMARE
BECAUSE IT JUST FEELS LIKE MY SCALP IS COVERED IN SCABS AND SKIN THAT ABSOLUTELY NEEDS TO COME OFF
BUT IT CANT AND IT WILL ONLY COME OFF WHEN ITS 100% READY TO
THANK GOD I WAS WITH MY BF ALL WEEKEND BECAUSE THEY WOULD SEE ME PICKING MY SCALP AND SAY "HAND." AND MAKE ME HOLD HER HAND INSTEAD AHSJASJAJJAJ
no bc if i wasnt with them i genuinely would have spent my nights picking away my skin trapped in my own personal hell
but instead i got to spend my nights in the arms of a pretty girl<333
we're meeting again on march 1st and im so excited
thank god its so soon, only 11 days because i miss him more than anything on this planet
long distance is SOOOO hard but its so worth it
im just grateful that i get to see them ever
like once a month is pretty good in the grand scheme of things, there are people who have never even gotten to hold their partners hand yet because they live so far away
its still just so hard though because i have to see everyone at my school doing fun stuff in person with their partners all the time and i would kill to have that too
"darling, play your violin
i know it's what you live for
darling, play your violin
we will manage somehow"
the 'we will manage somehow' reminds me of the feeling i get right before we have to leave my house to drop them back off
when we're packing up his things and saying our last goodbyes before the long car ride
the final kisses we give each other with tears streaming down our faces because we dont want to end the embrace
its extra us because she used to play violin as a kid
i really want to buy him a new violin some day
i could save up
they would feel so bad though because violins are pretty expensive
idk
some day, but not today
they could relearn their skill and play songs for me<3
that would be really nice i think
and she could learn songs that i love
the days after meeting up with them are always the hardest because even though they are hours away, my room is full of us
"all of our love filling all of our room"
everything still smells like her and it hurts me because i know that eventually the room with be just mine again and not ours
cleaning for the first time after hes gone is the hardest thing to make myself do because i just want to keep every single remaining trace of him locked around me
but thats not how any of this works, and i know it isnt
thats why every time after we meet i rapid-fire post lyrics to heaven by mitski 💀💀💀 that song always reminds me of her
"as i sip on the rest of the coffee you left, a kiss left of you"
they gave me their sweater and its funny because it kind of smells like me too since they were wearing it while around me and i am very clingy 😭😭😭 like i spent many hours this weekend just laying on her
its a sweater for their schools choirLMAOOO i feel so funny wearing it because it is merch for another highschool in literally another state
im not even a choir kid either and that makes it even funnier
i love doing things with him, like playing games and doing activities but. my absolute favorite thing is just laying together and cuddling with my body as close as physically possible to them
the way i see it, we can do activities and stuff with each other from through the phone. the only thing we cant do is hold each other and i want to stay in that embrace for the rest of time
my favorite place ever is between her arms
we had the best time ever talking the other day and we were talking about like very personal stuff but we could relate to each other and we were laughing and holding hands and it was just so nice
it was honestly one of my favorite conversations ive ever had with him
and meals with her are fun because we watch Mr. beast together 😭😭😭 and they watched one of the videos beforehand to make sure that there wasn't anything that could trigger my emetophobia<33333
they are literally the only person in my life that takes my phobia seriously and it makes me feel so loved and heard and respected and appreciated and all that
and they were saying such nice things to me before bed last night, like they completely eliminated several of my insecurities and i feel even more comfortable around him than i did before which is saying something
we slept on the call tonight
i usually prefer to sleep alone, so i call them and wait until they're sleeping to get off the phone and sleep by myself
she just likes to hear the sound of me breathing while going to bed which i think is sweet
i didnt leave the call tonight though, i just didn't want to be alone
for valentines day, i got us promise rings
mine is silver and hers is gold because those are our preferred metals
its two little hearts and theyre ruby and sapphire gemstones because he loves steven universe and there are two characters named ruby and sapphire and they're madly in love
the rings are so pretty and they align with their interests and im so excited
we wear them on our wedding ring fingers
its exciting because i know that one day a real wedding ring will replace it and this one will be a memory of our love
and he also made me the prettiest bracelet ever and there are some very nice things about it that i will list here
charm, half a heart, magnetic - they have a matching bracelet with the other magnetic half and when we're together we can connect them to form a whole heart and its the sweetest thing ever
separate magnetic beads so i can click them together because i fidget with my jewelry. literally the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me
my favorite colors
made with my favorite hands in the entire world (hers)
so incredibly thoughtful
so basically its the best piece of jewelry
and then i gave them a bracelet as well and i have a matching one
i didnt make these ones but they are very very sentimental to me for reasons that im not going to go into
the bracelet i gave her ended up breaking when we were at the mall:((( luckily we found the broken pieces and can fix it. god i was so scared when we realized it was missing, you can imagine the relief i felt when we found it on the ground
i have pictures to share so i will do that later when im on my phone
posting this live from my geometry class!!! the assignment only took me like 20-30 minutes so i have so much free time
the class ends in about 25 minutes and after that i have an hour and a half free in this same classroom for my schools equivalent of a study hall 💀💀💀
im so glad today is easy because i need a break from all the turbulence
plus today will be a bit more difficult mentally than other days because im still waking up from the dream that was this weekend
"now i bend like a willow thinking of you, like a murmuring brook curving about you"
this morning my friend gave me the sweetest card in the whole universe for valentines day and im just feeling so grateful for everyone around me
lately ive been feeling so loved and welcome and happy about all the beautiful amazing people in my life
things are going pretty good
i could talk for hours about everything that happened this weekend but alas, i am tired of typing
they made me so much other amazing stuff and i got very thoughtful gifts and i just want to cover my room wall to wall in all the stuff she gave me
ok goodbye now!!!!
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sillygirlblogging · 10 months
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May 22, 2023
in my anxiety era.
no literally all i feel is anxiety. therefore my guts are in ruins and i feel sick inside and out. i want to be excited and optimistic about the future but i'm being dragged down because reality is hitting me. i'm completely uncertain about my future, i don't even know what i'm going to do this week, much less my life.
i feel completely hopeless. what if there's no options for my future that will make me happy. part of my brain keeps telling me that i fail at everything and that i should give up now. i'm not good at school, but much worse than that is how hard it actually is for me to transfer universities for some reason. and it's just way too expensive for me to continue to go to the university i last went to. not to mention i just have to leave that state immediately (if you knew which state, you would understand).
i also feel like i have no idea my options or how to find out anything about them. why is so much information so hard for me to find? am i truly just an idiot? how does everyone else just... do life? and i am the only one left behind, confused as hell as to what i'm supposed to do. did everyone else's parents help them or something? throughout my life i have truly just had to count on myself to figure it out. applying to jobs, applying to schools, looking for places to live, paying taxes, etc.
sometimes i feel like everyone else in the world has a little antenna and is receiving instructions on how to live and i am just alone and confused. alienated. and you may say "just google it." maybe we don't have the same google... or maybe i just have no clue how to use google. but every time i try to find actual useful information for my life on google, it's always a millions results and i don't feel like any of them have viable answers for me. which leads me to my next point.
once i noticed it, the more i see it. people taking the most basic and bare bones advice and repackaging it as something new and the oversimplification of problems. ummm, you did not reinvent the wheel sis, i know that i need to drink water for healthier skin but it's not gonna solve all my problems.
or just straight up misinformation. you have to go through 1,000 people telling you what's good for you to get to 1 person telling you the truth. but the problem is that i have no idea who is telling me the truth. everyone has their own motives and most people are only trying to help themselves.
that being said, let me share something i do know, maybe someone like me will read this. not likely but anyways.
my beloved skin routine. now, i will say i do have nice skin but it's not exactly a family thing, some of my siblings had a lot of acne and some had very little. i have been taking care of my skin since before i even hit puberty so i feel that i can attribute some of my current situation to that. i get a lot of compliments on my skin. also i would like to note that i have no medical knowledge of this subject it is all anecdotal. but anyways, let's get into it.
remove makeup, if wearing any. there are multiple approaches to this. if your skin is more oily i would recommend micellular water and if it's more dry then coconut oil. of course, anyone can try out either, depending on your skin's sensitivity one or the other might be better. but i would say be weary of using coconut oil if you are already very oily. these are my favorite makeup removers because they're effective, gentle, and somewhat cheap.
wash face. there are so many cleansers out there, it can be so overwhelming. my go to is the cetaphil daily facial cleanser. i prefer this over all of the other cetaphil cleansers, but if you need there is a gentler one. be thorough, really lather up your face and then add some water, continue to lather, add more water, lather, until the face wash is all off your skin.
dry... obvi! make sure you are cleaning your towels often enough, i would say to only use the same one for a week before cleaning it.
tone. this is actually a super important step. it feels so unnecessary but truly makes a big difference to me. put just enough on a cotton ball/pad or reusable cloth substitute to the point where it's wet but not dripping. then wipe around your face. dont get too close to your eyes, they will be more sensitive. using toner will help your other post-wash products work better. my favorite toner is the pixi clarity tonic.
serum. i loveee trying out different serums because more often than not they work well and make my skin feel super good and hydrated. while there are many serums that are supposedly directed at different skin issues, i honestly think that the main benefit is added moisture to your skin that you just can't get from a cream moisturizer. i put one drop on each cheek and maybe a tiny one on my nose and then massage it all in, making sure to get also get my neck. the serum i use right now is the pixi glow tonic serum. i also love the pixi hydrating milky mist.
moisturize. i feel like putting a cream moisturizer over your face after serum just locks in all the hydration. i recommend one with sunscreen, but be weary because i find that sometimes they are more oily than the moisturizers without. one that i have found to be perfect for me is the elf holy hydration moisturizer with sunscreen. i have used this one for two years now and i just keep buying it. it's not too light or too heavy. don't use too much moisturizer. i put a pea sized amount on each cheek, my nose, and my chin and then massage it all in. and again, dont forget your neck!
it's extremely important to be consistent. wash your face in the morning and at night. if something doesn't work for you, then try something else. and the more expensive options don't always mean better. recognize the patterns of what works for you and what doesn't. what kind of ingredients are in the products that you're sensitive to? perfecting your own skin routine can involve trying a lot of new things but when you find something that works, i would advice you to continue using that product until it no longer works for you. if it's not broke, dont fix it! also continually introducing new things to your skin can be counterintuitive. and do NOT pop your pimples!! the pimple gods will know what you did and will only bring you more pimples. although it is so hard sometimes because let's be honest sometimes it feels super embarrassing and pimples can look a little gross, but you just have to ignore it. put a pimple patch on it and forget about it.
that's pretty much it for today. it was my sister's birthday, i think she liked my present but it's hard to tell with her. i'm ready for bed. it's been a long day. goodnight, void.
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sharongoodnow · 1 year
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holy shit they actually filmed it. fuck wait. that’s insane. that’s fucking insane. okay so this was not in the show. also i do strongly recommend reading the book five days at memorial that’s genuinely one of the best books i’ve ever read on the whole and is indescribably important in light of you know Everything (also recommend the shock doctrine and the spirit catches you & you fall down for other thematically similar stuff but that’s a tangent) so like yeah you know I Would Recommend. anyway. so i hate the show there’s plenty of rants about that on here. but so like. something they talk about in the books is that. okay im trying to keep myself on track here. so i got really annoyed with the show because the book presents a fuckload of horrific stuff that shows exactly how dire it was in this hospital but the show failed to take imo the majority of those opportunities. and this was one of them. i swear to you this wasn’t in the show like i would remember if this was. anyway. so one thing that happened was early early on into the five days they were all stranded helicopters came in to take really dire cases (there’s a lot more elaboration here) and one of the first evacuations was neonates in the nicu for fairly obvious reasons. i don’t remember the specifics but what ended up happening was that the incubator (which you can see the staff pushing away from the helipad) couldn’t fit in the helicopter. so you have this incredibly sick baby on a highly specialized ventilator who absolutely needs this incubator to survive and they’re being told that the incubator won’t fit so you choose to either leave the baby at the hospital with the lifesaving equipment (running on generator power in a city that is actively flooding and in a hospital that is literally below sea level) hoping that a different evacuation can happen, or you take the baby out of the incubator and mechanically ventilate until you arrive at another hospital. and the doctor involved saw no choice but to mechanically ventilate in the helicopter. he knew this was a death sentence for this baby but it was the only chance whatsoever. like there was no true way to imitate the ventilator with just a bag. he said the 20 minute flight felt hours long and he had to find a specific style of ventilating to try to mimic the ventilator and he prayed the whole time bargaining whatever he could so that this baby could live. and what’s fucking insane is that the baby survived. like, no chance in hell essentially, but the baby survived. this was not in the show; the only comparable scene in the show had the incubator fit and there was no problem. which makes me think they just cut this outright. now, here’s the thing. this would be incredibly, INCREDIBLY easy to shoot, it wouldn’t be expensive, and it would give the actor in the scene and award-worthy performance. it feels textbook. the most you need is a doll set up for this, but even that you don’t need if you just want to focus on the actor’s face. like. it’s so simple. So indescribably simple. but no, the incubator fits. whatever. like? holy shit. i can’t believe they actually filmed this. like i had such a grudge over how this wasn’t included when it felt like the most painfully obvious scene to include. fuck m8. that’s nuts
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blackllghtburns · 1 year
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Not to come on here and complain for the 5,000th night in a row but. I just wish shit was different. Literally every single thing in my life. I wish I wasn’t afab and I wish I could be in a body that I didn’t hate. I wish I had a job that actually paid well. I wish I could afford to move. I wish I wasn’t a coward who could actually stomach coming out to my family. I wish I could let myself be loved by someone else without throwing up 1,000 defenses.
I just hate myself so goddamn bad. Literally everything about myself. Like, I know self deprecation isn’t cute or quirky or whatever but. It’s genuinely how I feel. Looking at myself in the mirror makes me sick to my stomach. And that’s taking the whole dysphoria thing out of the picture. My personality sucks. I go from being so embarrassingly meek to just being a downright fucking asshole and it’s awful. There’s no balance. And like, there’s something genuinely fucking wrong with me. Saying I’m ‘broken’ or whatever sounds so stupid but like... it’s true. There’s something genuinely wrong with how my brain works and how I interact with other people. Like making friends is goddamn impossible and I can’t let me guard down long enough to get close to anyone irl at all, romantically or platonically. And it’s so frustrating. I feel such a disconnect with myself and with other people. And it’s not a fun feeling whatsoever. Maintaining relationships is even worse. I rarely ever see my irl friends and while that’s partly because everyone’s busy and have their own lives, it’s also just because I just. Am too drained. For any sort of connection whatsoever. 
This isn’t the life I want to live, and this isn’t the person I want to be. But Idk how to be any different though. Like yeah there’s the whole thing where it’s like -- you’re under no obligation to be the same person you were yesterday. But I can’t just change. You can’t just rewire your entire self, no matter how much you hate yourself. But I wish you could. I’d give anything. I’d give anything to not feel so stuck. In this body, in this job, in poverty, in myself in general.  
I just wish I could be someone I didn’t hate. I wish I didn’t constantly feel like I’m drowning. And I feel like no one irl gets it. My bosses don’t realize how much it takes for me to just physically exist, let alone actually come to work every day. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t matter and literally anything I try to accomplish there doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things either.  
I can’t even fault them for it though. It’s not their fault that I’m the way I am. But I genuinely feel like I’m hanging on by a thread. And this isn’t sustainable. Idk how much longer I can keep doing this until I have an absolute fucking mental breakdown. And not to sound like a whiny little baby but it isn’t fair. I didn’t ask to be born and I sure as hell didn’t ask for This Life. But it feels like right now the most I can really do is shrug it off and be like Whatever. I have to stuff all of this shit down so much. I feel like I can’t talk to anyone irl about any of this either because if any of them knew how often I think about just offing myself I’m pretty sure they’d just commit me tbh. (Not that I WOULD but. The thoughts are there. Not that that’s Normal whatsoever but I need to make that distinction.) And as nice as a grippy sock vacation sounds in theory, I don’t think it would help and more importantly it’s expensive. 
Anyway this is rambling and largely incoherent but just. I’m sad. I’m so so so sad. To the point where I need to deflect this post with humor, and say that this is an actual photo of me rn:
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so-you-melted-22 · 3 years
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i might just teach myself how to sew, just so i can sew my own damn star trek uniform!
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scuttling · 3 years
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If I Should Linger
Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.
“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.
“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.
“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”
“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?
“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.
“That’s gross, Jay.”
“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”
“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”
“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.
“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”
“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.
“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.
“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.
“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.
“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.
“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”
“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.
“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.
“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.
“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.
“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.
He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.
To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.
“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.
You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.
“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.
“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.
“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.
“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.
Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”
“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”
“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.
“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”
“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.
“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.
“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”
“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.
“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”
“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.
“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.
“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.
He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.
“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.
“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.
“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.
“Yes, Aaron, I have.”
“Did Derek put you up to it?”
“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.
“Old and uptight?”
“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”
“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”
“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.
“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.
“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.
“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”
“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”
“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.
“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.
Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.
J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.
Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P
J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.
You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.
He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.
“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”
“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.
“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.
You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.
“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)
“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.
“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.
You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”
“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.
Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.
After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.
It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.
“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.
“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.
God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.
“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.
You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.
You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…
Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.
“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.
You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.
“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.
“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.
He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”
There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.
You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.
You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.
“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”
Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.
“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”
“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”
“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”
“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”
She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.
“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.
Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.
Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.
You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.
“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”
“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.
“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”
You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.
“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.
Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.
That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.
You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.
But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.
You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.
“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.
“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.
“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”
“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.
“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”
“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.
“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.
He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.
“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.
“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”
“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.
“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.
“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Jay, I didn’t—”
“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.
“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.
“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”
“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.
“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.
“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.
“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.
You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.
“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.
“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.
“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”
“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.
“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.
“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”
“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.
You’re going to go get your old man.
When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.
“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.
“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.
“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”
You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.
“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.
“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”
“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.
“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.
J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.
That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed
518 notes · View notes
spicy-dunkaroo · 3 years
Text
Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)
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♫Now Playing: “Stuck by Your Side (Part 1)” by Spicy Dunkaroo…♪
❀Word Count: 2.5k
❀Rating: PG 13, 18+, Minors Do Not Interact (please)
❀Genre: Mythology AU!, Kelpie! Tamaki Amajiki, a pinch of Angst, very Fluffy, Maybe Smut (Still not sure yet)
❀Summary: Due to your job, you’re forced to visit a beautiful city in Scotland in order to get some reconnaissance on the locals. While on this trip, you grab a drink with a coworker and return home where you begin to notice strange things happen.
❀Warning(s): Cursing, Mentions of Alcohol use (Characters are aged up), and Mentions of Depression
❀Author's Note: Hello everyone!! This will be my first collaboration with the BNHarem server (Of hopefully many more). I hope that if you enjoy this story that you also go ahead and check out the other talented artists/writers that participated in this server collab here. I am beyond grateful to be working with so many amazing writers and artists that have helped me and inspired me to start writing!! I would also like to ask that if there are any warnings I might have missed, please do let me know. The last thing I want to do is have anyone read my story and get triggered because I didn’t properly put the warnings here.
Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy :)
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Birds singing, leaves crunching, and the wind singing in your ears was all you could hear as the tour guide went on with their one-sided conversation of tour around Inverness, Scotland. If it weren’t for your worrisome supervisor, you’d be in the cute little cottage that you rented for the next few weeks, probably playing on your switch or watching Tigtog videos for hours on end. But noooo, they mandated that everyone had to go on this hour-long tour of the city to “get a nice perspective of the city” or whatever the hell they were rambling on about.
Each person was assigned a partner for the tours so they didn’t have to worry about anyone getting abducted or ‘lost’. Knowing better, you visibly rolled your eyes as your partner looked around like a kid in a candy store. Apparently the woman was from the marketing department as well, her name seeming to leave your memory as you squinted in her direction.
“You forgot my name again, didn’t you?”
“Pfft- no- no way!”
“Yea? Then what is it?”
“Uh, erm...It- it starts with a H, I know that!!”
“It’s Hoshi, or if you’d like to continue with formalities, Ms. Tenmei.”
Hanging your head in shame you look away. Getting lost in your thoughts once more, Hoshi taps on your shoulder.
“Hey, no worries! I’m pretty bad with names myself. How’s camera duty going?”
Saying this, the woman grabs the camera from your grasp, turning it back on to see the pictures you had taken thus far. Whistling, Hoshi looks back at you, noticing the lack of enthusiasm that was painted across your face.
“I know this tour is the last thing either of us want to do, but the quicker you get all those pictures for the portfolio, the quicker we can get out of here and grab a drink. It’ll be my treat if you can get all of them before the end of the tour.”
Nodding your head, you grab the camera back from her, beginning to focus it on a nice view of the lake from the bridge the two of you were standing on. Before you can snap the shot, the tour-guide’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as he begins to speak about a more interesting topic.
“It’s said that this lake has a kelpie spirit living within its waters. Although, that can be said about any lake that’s big enough to swim in.”
As most tourists begin to talk amongst themselves, you grip onto the expensive camera once more, hoping to find that perfect shot you had before the man’s shrilling voice had interrupted your train of thought.
“Mommy, what’s a kelpie?”
As the little boy spoke, you took the chance to snap the shot as a bird flew on the lake's surface, leaving a black blur on the perfect shot!
‘You’ve got to be kidding me!’
The tour guide you grew to despise butted into the pair’s conversation to answer the boys question.
“That’s a good question kiddo! It’s said that the origins of the Kelpie were originally told as warnings to women and children alike to be alert at all times when not around their loved ones. Despite this, you can ask any local in the area and most could tell you their story of encountering the supposed myth. I suppose we’ll never know till we see one for ourselves. Though, if you’re unlucky enough to encounter such a myth, there’s the chance that you won’t live to tell the tale...”
The boy trembled as he gripped his mother’s dress tighter in his clutch. Your partner begins to scoot closer to you as she whispers into your ear.
“Psst! Hey, what do you think about those ‘kelpie’ hm?”
“It sounds like some sort of folk-lore they tell all the tourists here.”
“Oh c’mon now, you’re no fun! I’d like to think they might not be as brutal as this guy says.”
Scoffing, you shake your partner’s hand from your shoulder as you look into the camera’s lens once more to take another picture.
‘I’m sure it’s all bullshit. There’s no such thing as a shape-shifting kel-‘
Thinking this, you suddenly feel your body begin to fall forward as the bridge railing suddenly let out from beneath you. Before you realize it, you open your eyes to see the water's surface only a mere foot or two from your own face, the camera hanging by your neck and grazing the lake, your body beginning to be pulled back to its upright position.
Turning around to thank whoever it was that just saved you from having to pay for the company camera, you look to see nobody behind you. Nobody seemed to even be around you as you see Hoshi following behind the group of tourists, leaving you in the dust. You begin to chase after the group as you shake off the entire encounter.
Shuffling your bag off of your shoulder you threw it into the nearby chair, slumping into the couch that was adjacent to the chair. You began to hum to yourself as you felt the effects of the beer contest you had with Hoshi who you now knew was your supervisor. Thinking to yourself you remember losing that contest the two of you set up.
‘It was nice of her to pay for us and to bring me back home even though I lost. I should thank her tomorrow and try to pay her back if I can.’
Suddenly feeling the effects of the liquid courage, you stood up a bit too quickly, reaching your hand out to the couch you were just laying on. Not sure what to do, you reached for your phone to scroll through Tigtog, that was until you began to hear something strange. From what you could tell, it sounded like a voice, though you weren’t sure if it was male or female. Curiosity began to take the lead as you stood upright once more. Looking around, you began to walk around the cottage, seeing if there was anything on that could be making that noise. Eventually you found yourself outside in what looked to be the backyard of your little cottage, swaying side to side as you tried to listen for the voice once more.
“Y/N? Are- are you there?”
Under normal circumstances, after hearing an unknown males voice you’d already be locking the backdoor behind you after racing to that door. Tonight, however, was not the case as you yelled back the best you could of a response.
“yYeaa! Wwwhooo- whoo arre yOU?”
After saying this, you suddenly began to burp, probably due to the alcohol. Despite everything you had experienced thus far, for some reason your fit of burps could not be funner to you at that very moment as the voice spoke once more.
“T-That’s not important r-right now. I just wanted to make sure you made it back home safe.”
The liquid courage that coursed through your veins decided that you wanted to find out more about this stranger and began to walk into the forest. You began to sway as you attempted to find them, calling out to them in hopes of convincing them to stay and hang out.
“OoooOh c’mON now!! Don’t be liiiike that! Wh-wherrrreeee are ya? Le-le-let’s hanggg ouT for a bit! I-I *hic* think there’s cards in the liv-livingg roooom~! We- we can play a gggame of poKER and- and see what’s in the fridge. Man, now I’m hungryyy!”
Despite your lack of sobriety at the moment, you began to hear a few leaves crunch nearby. It appeared that for some reason or another, what you lacked in logic you seemed to gain in your basic senses. This theory proved true as you sniffed the air, you noticed that there was a lake nearby.
‘Since when the hell did I know what a river smelled like?’
Before you can continue on with your train of thought, the stranger responds once more. They seemed a bit panicked as you heard a twig snap, followed by more leaves crunching beneath their feet you suspected.
“D-D-Don’t come any closer! Y-You should go back h-home, you’re not t-thinking rationally.”
Not wanting to take no for an answer, you continue to walk to the source of the sound, hearing what sounded like a cascading river growing louder. Looking through the trees, you noticed a few yards away the river you had just heard. You speak up once more as you begin to walk toward the river.
“I-I don’t want to be alone r-right now… It-it’s stupid I know, I just...I’d just like to talk, just for a little bit. Would that be okay?”
Your vision began to blur as you rushed to the river's edge. It didn’t matter now if the stranger responded or not, your world began to crash down around you as you looked at the reflection on the water's edge. Sitting on your knees, small whimpers escaped your lips out as you covered your face with your hands. Despite the literal lack of sight, your emotions consumed you as it felt that everything around you was losing the light that once shone in your hopeful eyes.
At this point, you couldn’t hear any signs of life as you gripped harder at your face, only the sound of your quiet cries for help being all that echoed through that hollow forest. Assuming the worst, you began to move your hands from your face, dropping them by your side once more as you looked at your reflection once again.
“Y-You said you wanted to talk? T-That’d be fine, just- just promise you won’t cry anymore?”
There's a beat of silence, it seemed that not even the wind could speak as your body froze. Sure, you could convince yourself that you were just hearing things, that you were just acting aloof because you were feeling lonely. If you could get yourself on the couch, you could wake up and even tell yourself that the whole experience was just a really surreal dream you had. What you couldn’t convince yourself was the half naked man that appeared to be standing a few feet behind you, his voice matching his lips as you watched them move.
‘Maybe- maybe I’m just seeing things? That-that has to be right, right?! But alcohol doesn’t cause hallucinations and I’m positive that none of my drinks were spiked. So- so...Who the hell is this!?!’
“Are- are you okay Y/N?”
Your body grew stiff as you heard your name roll off of his tongue. If you weren’t getting clearheaded before, you definitely were cold sober now. Those shy indigo eyes that seemed to stare back at your own off of the river's surface as they brought you back to your senses.
‘There is a strange, half-naked man, who somehow knows you by your name, staring at you- talking to you! He doesn’t seem very intimidating, but then again he is a stranger!! In the best case scenario, he could just be a nice guy who found someone in need. Worst case, he’s a psycho that found their next victim! I can’t keep my back turned like this, I have to do something and get the hell out of this!’
Taking a shallow breath in, you swiftly turn your entire body around, facing the stranger that now made your body shiver in fear as you looked up at him. Despite the appearance of the situation, the man seemed to be intimidated by you as he looked away.
‘He doesn’t really seem like he wants to hurt me. If anything, he’s scared of me? Maybe I can intimidate him to leave me alone? Though, I don’t think I could pull it off seeing as I’m still a bit drunk…’
“Y-Y/N?”
Looking back at the man, you notice he begins to reach his hand out toward you, slowly beginning to walk toward your crouched form. Worried for the worst, you scoot away as you respond.
“H-HEY!! D-Don’t come any c-closer! If-If you don’t I-I’ll- ACK!”
Speaking this, you only now notice that there didn’t seem to be any more ground beneath you as you felt your body begin to fall into the river.
“Y/N!”
Before you can process everything that’s happening, you close your eyes in anticipation for the cold water that was bound to drown you. The stranger grabs your wrist, holding your body up above the river, your body mere inches from being submerged in the cold water. Noticing the lack of impact, you flutter your eyes open as you look back at the man before you. Shocked, the man looks down at where he grabbed your wrists. Only now do you notice a purple hue that surrounded both your arms.
“What- what is this?!”
At a loss for words, the man can only look back between your face and where he held your wrist. Confused and scared, you rip your arm from his grip as you stand yourself back up. As you stare at the man, you look around, befuddled by whatever the hell had just happened.
While a part of you would love to ask what just happened, the more logical side of you knew that none of this was worth hanging around to find out. Dusting yourself off, the man speaks up once more as he looks away in what seemed to be guilt.
“Y-Y/N, I-I’m so so-sorry!! I-I didn’t mean to t-touch you- What have I done?!”
Not wanting to wait any longer, you began to shuffle around the man, holding your hands up in surrender as you attempted to empathize with the man. Although, you weren’t sure why he was so worried since he didn’t seem to do anything besides whatever that purple glow was moments before.
“Hey, hey! We don’t have to speak about any of this. I’ll go back and after that we won’t have to ever see each other ever again, okay?”
“Y/N, i-it’s not that simpl- h-Hey, WAIT!!”
Before he had a chance to explain, you sprinted back to your cute rental cottage that you were now wishing you never left. Looking back, you notice the man just stood there as you were almost home.
Suddenly, your body stopped moving. What was even stranger, your body seemed to freeze mid-sprint. Looking around, you noticed that somehow your head was able to move but your arms were stiff as you attempted to force your body to run once more. Just as you were about to give up, your legs moved once more, wobbling as they felt gravity work once more. Not taking any chances, you began to dash once more. Not a second later, your body rolled forward from some sort of large and heavy impact. After your body finished rolling forward, you noticed that you were sitting in the backyard of the cottage, the man sitting on his head as his body laid against the door.
“W-Who or-or What are you?”
The man sighs as he flutters his eyes open, rubbing his head as he looks up at you.
“M-My name’s T-Tamaki Amajiki, and- and I’m a kelpie…”
~End of Part 1~
63 notes · View notes
spideyspeaches · 3 years
Text
We always have been ↬ fem!p.p
A/N: AHHH I love genderbent Peter skjkjhjka and I’ve only seen @justme--emily​ write for her so far so I wrote one of my own 😤
Summary: It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience. 
Warning: um cursing lol.
Pairing: female!Peter Parker x Harry Osborn
WC: 2k
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When Mister Stark had asked her to attend one of those glorious charity galas, Penny had been elated, internally (and externally) jumping at the thought of wearing fancy gowns and walking past pretentious rich bureaucrats and business people.
She was practically lost in paradise when Miss Potts had accompanied her to shop for her dress, a beautiful blue and red full length gown, hugging her in her curves with a chinese collar neck and embroidered bust (very on brand of her). 
“Is your dress comfortable? Oh god I think I should have altered it myself, it’s not too tight right?” May fretted, fixing her hairdo and last minute make up she learnt from makeup hacks videos. Groaning, Penny nudged May by her shoulders, sitting her down on her twin bed, holding her aunt’s cheeks.
“May, the dress is comfortable! Miss Potts made sure that it was altered to my size okay? Now calm down, it’s just one night.” She smiled, folding her hands under her chest. Her dress was truly comfortable, and she looked undeniably good, she checked (she was a nerd, yes, but she wasn’t blind. Especially now that she had 20/20 long vision due to her spider powers.)
“You know how I feel about you going to fancy parties, baby.” May sighed, making her wince, “the last time you went to prom ended in a disaster. Both of them”
“I know May, but on the bright side, it gained me an actual paid internship. And Mister Stark and Miss Potts are going to be present the whole time!” She reassured, squeezing her aunt’s shoulders. In all honesty, she understood her anxiety, shuddering as she remembered her prom fighting Liz’s dad, and then breaking up with Harry, “besides, I have my spidery powers remember? I’m a big girl May, I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can sweetheart, god look at you all grown up, Ben would be so proud of how much you’ve grown, my little woman.” May sniffed, getting up to caress her head. She shook her head at her aunt’s emotional state, smiling as she bowed her head at the nickname. It was something Ben used to call her- little woman.
“Ben would be proud of you too May.” Penny said, willing her eyes to not water at the sudden rush of sentiment she felt at the mention of her deceased uncle.
“Now, shoo before I change my mind and keep you all to myself!” May laughed, fixing the non existent crease near her shoulders.
“Okay okay! I’m going May, jeez it’s like you and Mister Stark are holding a shared custody of me.” Penny snickered, scrambling to wear her uncomfortable heels, the ones that matched her dress.
“Maybe I am, but I get to be the primary guardian!”
Laughing, she gave her aunt a kiss to her cheek, doing a preliminary check of her cell phone and emergency bracelet, blowing her a kiss before walking into the car that was standing outside their apartment.
The car ride was silent, her stomach bubbling with nervousness and excitement. She was practically vibrating in her seat, glad that Tony had sent another driver instead of Happy- he would have teased her incessantly for being so nervous. She had grown close to Happy, the man growing fond of her as well, but he could be an embarrassing dad at times.
The gala was everything she had imagined, brightly lit in an overpriced hall, adorning overpriced decorations with people in overpriced clothes. 
“Hey Mister Stark! Thank you so much for inviting me!” She grinned, skipping towards her fath- mentor. 
“Hey Pen, wow don’t you look beautiful. A little too beautiful, beware of those good for nothing boys you hear me?” Tony smiled, hugging her, a protective hand on her shoulder. 
“Oh don’t mind Tony, hun, he’s only joking.” Pepper said, giving her a kiss on her cheek and doing a once over, just like May had. 
“I’m serious Pep, if those boys even tried anything, you call me okay? I’ll take care of them.” 
“Mister Stark, you can’t just threaten teenagers.” Penny giggled, looking at Pepper with a smirk.
“Barely a teenager kiddo, why did you grow up so fast?” He smiled, a fond look in his eyes.
“I’m nineteen Mister Stark, I think I can take care of those boys themselves.” 
“Hell yeah you can, that’s my girl.” 
Easy for her to say, because not long after that, Mister Stark and Pepper had abandoned her to talk to some prominent dealer about some… deals concerning Stark Industries, she didn't ask.
By the end of an hour, she was already bouncing on her heels, bored out of her mind. Even the Avengers could entertain her only so much, going back to their important work. And 
Penny was an awkward girl, always finding herself in situations she was unwilling to participate in, so socialising was out of question.
She remembered the one time she had accidentally spilled coffee all over Mister Stark’s touch sensitive keyboard, stuttering the whole time. He hadn’t even been mad, reassuring her that he had done that enough times before, hence the liquid resistant keypads. 
And then there was that one time the school nurse had called Tony when she was experiencing period induced fever. That was embarrassing, if not a little heartwarming to know that he cared about her enough to confront Pepper about menstrual problems. She was his daughter in everything but blood, he reminded her that every day, though not verbally.
There was also this one time she had been caught kissing MJ, but none of those were going to top what she was facing right now.
Literally.
“Penny! Penny Parker?” Harry’s chirpy voice rang in her ears, his footsteps sounding increasingly closer as she tried to hide her face behind her (non alcoholic) drink, frantically walking towards the vague figure of Mister Stark as fast as she could with her overly expensive stilettos.
It was not every day you crash into your ex boyfriend in a Stark Gala, was it? Your ex boyfriend you dumped right after your senior prom? It was probably her Parker luck striking, never a good sign, she learned that from experience. 
Finally standing near Mister Stark, she tried to stand next to him, ignoring the weird look he was giving her. Penny was petite, always has been small for her age, so she was glad Mister Stark could cover her with his side. Apparently he got her cue, as he shifted slightly to hide her from whomever’s view.
“What’s wrong Pen? Some pesky boy chasing you? Accidentally met your ex?” He joked, giving the old businessman in front of him a handshake and smirking at her with amusement. 
“Something like that.” She shrugged casually, snickering at Tony’s wide eyes. 
“Penny! Hey it’s me, Harry.” He said, nearly standing behind her. He was either incredibly stupid or incredibly brave, weaving his way through the crowd to stand right in front of her. He probably hadn’t noticed her clinging to Tony, which is why he came forward, a big goofy grin playing on his handsome face, sending her heart into a frenzy, his blue eyes shining under the gleaming lights. 
“Uh, h-hey Harry.” She grimaced, elongating his name with a chuckle. Shuffling forward, she ignored Tony’s raised eyebrows, opening her mouth to speak, but all she could look at was Harry Fucking Osborn standing in front of her, “Um, small world?” 
Her words sounded distant to her, heart heart a lump in her throat. She felt underprepared for these situations. Sure, they had broken off on a semi- good note, but it didn’t make whatever this was any less awkward. 
“Small world indeed.” He said, much softer than before, a solemn expression taking over his face, “It’s not every day you get to meet Penelope Parker in a Stark Gala. Heard of your internship by the way, I knew you were smart enough to get it.” 
“Oh, thanks about that. I guess you’re an unwilling guest here? Haven’t seen Mr. Osborn around.” She smiled shyly, shuffling on her feet.
“Yeah, kind of, I mean you know how he is.” He shrugged.
“How long have you two known each other?” Tony interrupts the two, watching in amusement as both his pseudo daughter and Norman’s son blush under his gaze, as if just noticing his presence.
“Uhm, Hi Mister Stark! B-big fan, hi oh my god Penny I’m standing in front of Tony Stark.” Harry stuttered, shaking Tony’s hand for a little too long.
Staring at him with confusion, he shook Harry's hand back, silently asking Penny the lingering question.
“He’s a bit of a fanboy.” She answered. 
Harry was still looking at Stark with his wonderstruck expression. 
“Well it’s always good to meet my fans, but you didn't answer my question, kid. How do you two know each other?” Tony said, smiling as politely as he could while his hand was still stuck in Harry’s grip. 
Realising that, he instantly let go, standing awkwardly as him and Penny said at the same time-
“I’m her ex boyfriend-”
“He’s my best friend.” 
His eyes widen, realising what he had just said.
“You guys dated? And when were you going to tell me about that Pen?” Tony asked, baffled at the thought of Penny dating a guy, and Osborn’s son of all people. 
“Well, you see, I was going to tell you soon, but then we broke up. You know? We haven’t talked since.” Penny said, the last sentence directed towards Harry. She was looking at him now, gritting her teeth.
“Well did you expect me to call you after you dumped me? During prom nonetheless? I was ashamed, Pen, I couldn’t do it.” Harry said, looking apologetic. It made her heart clench, inherent guilt building up in her tummy. It was her fault, technically. 
“Yeah but, Harry you were my best friend before my boyfriend, and I missed you okay? You could’ve at least called.” She defended. Tony was good at reading the room, so sensing a banter building, he quietly left the area, not wanting to witness the misunderstanding.
“I really missed you too Penny, I- I didn’t think I was good enough for you, gosh I really fucking love you.” He said, immediately stiffening. 
Even back when they were dating, they had never said the L word to each other, not even when they were best friends, and now? Well he had just made the air more thicker than before. 
“You- you what?” She asked, voice small as her heart jumped. She moved closer to him, holding her hands out, reaching to touch his shoulders. Her hands set on his silky tuxedo, she stroked her hands in a slow motion, dropping them immediately when she realised she was touching him.
“I really fucking love you Penny, even if you don’t want to get together, can we still be friends? Go back to our movie nights and lego sessions?” He asked, furrowing his brows as if to keep himself from crying. 
No words left her mouth, her breath hitched when he moved forward, chest stuttering. With a sudden confidence she didn’t know she had, she leapt forward, capturing his lips in hers. Their lips moved with a sync, his familiar ocean scented deo invading her nostrils, his soft skin against her. The world around her melded in a technicolour blob, the only thing she could focus was his heartbeat echoing in her ears.
“I really fucking love you too by the way.” She said, pulling away from the kiss. She vaguely spotted Miss Potts in her periphery, shaking her head with a smile as she held back Mister Stark.
“So, are we friends then?” 
“Harry?”
“Yeah?”
“We are more than friends, you dumbass. We always have been.” 
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I’m a thirsty bitch, pwease give me feedback? 🥺🥺
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jupiterswlrd · 3 years
Text
Spectacular- mark lee
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mark never intended on getting bit by a spider on his was home in the subway, he also never intended on saving you from falling in front of the moving train car either. it was all just some sort of sick coincidence. mark had never believed in super powers, yeah what he saw on TV and comics book was cool but it was never realistic. ‘someone just can’t magically change over night’ he thought to himself all the time.
that was, until it happened to him. after his little run in with you he went home and took a nap, shook up a bit on how well his grip on your jacket was, almost like his hands were stuck to you. ‘crazy...’ he chuckled drifting off to sleep. when he woke up his found his upper part of he bunk covered in spider webs.
“ew” he said quietly trying not to wake his roommate haechan up. ‘maybe if hyuck would be a cleaner we wouldn’t have this issue’ mark struggled to sit up something making him stick to his bed. he flopped all around his bed, webs confining his arms to the bed. he finally broke one and somehow tripped off of his bunk. he prepared for his body to hit the ground but something caught him. a string of webs wrapped around his ankle and attached the top bunk. he was confused, but he was mostly relieved. “mark?....” haechan opened his eyes wondering why he saw his roommate dangling from what seemed to be the ceiling. with that the web snapped causing mark to fall on his head.
“dude...” haechan observed mark like he was some foreign species. “did you do that?” he pointed to the the webs covering marks bunk. “n-no!?!?” mark looked at the younger boy like he was out of his mind “do i look like a spider to you?” haechan stared at him for a long minute. “...there’s a fucking web growing out of your wrist right now....”
“HUH?” mark flung his hand somewhere, flinching in a way. haechan grunted loudly his head banging aganist the wall. his body was taped to the wall with one big web. “MARK” he yelled in amazement and extreme pain and discomfort. “I promise i didn’t do that....” mark didn’t know what to do with his hands, he stuck them in the pockets of his shorts fearing himself and what he’d do. haechan eventually broke free, examining the web pattern closely. He had a thing for spiders.
“this is completely unique...your webs have a little M in them. we should take to these y/n, you know shes a science freak” mark completely shut down at the thought of you seeing him shoot webs out of hands. what if you thought he was some kind of freak? “THATS NOT AN OPTIO-“ then you walked into their dorm room, unannounced and unwarranted. “i heard my name from outside the hallway, why are you all so l—“ you were confused to see that mark was no where to be found. “uhhh?? i thought i heard marks voice”
“you di—“ haechan did a double take “oh haha, yeah we were on the phone he’s in the bathroom— he got stuck in the toilet”
haechan shoved you out the room nervously. “yeah so y/n, we’ll see you in class okay?” once you were successfully pushed out the room, mark was sitting with his legs crossed his head in his hands. “bro what the fuck was that?” haechan slammed the door and locked it. “what was what?”
“i don’t know your little disappearing ac— YOU CAN TURN INVISIBLE”
“haechan are you on drugs? you have to be on drugs only people with POWERS can do that and that’s not possible be—“
haechan clamped a hand over marks mouth.
“dude you’ve done the impossible for like 2 hours now, you have powers” the younger boy slid on his shoes and grabbed his jacket. “where are you going?” mark asked laying back down. “you mean where are WE going” he threw marks slides at his head.
“we’re gonna go see what you can do.”
mark and haechan went out to a abandoned parking lot. haechan was good at making something out of nothing figuratively and quite literally. “okay mark pick up that big ass tire over there” mark walked over to it, absentmindedly picking it up “this one?”
haechan pulled a clipboard out his backpack “okay superstrength...check”
after many trials and errors. mark and donghyuck found out that he was very agile, very fast, and very sticky. mark couldn’t go 3 seconds with out sticking to something.
as mark and haechan were walking back to the dorms, mark heard something his ears turned up as he looked around. “do you hear that?” mark pulled his hoodie up and walked a bit faster. “no what do you hear? is everything oka—“ mark took off running in the opposite direction past the parking lot, leaving his backpack and a confused Lee Donghyuck behind him.
mark turned the corner the feeling that was rushing through his body, it was more than adrenaline it was like an itch that so desperately needed to be scratched. he had to find out what that noise was. he found himself in the subway again. the same place his was now 24 hours ago. his head was now spinning the same place he was bitten now stinging more than ever.
his balance was off and his body felt weak. mark blinked harshly, the itch slowly fading away. but everything was fading away he slipped into darkness, passing out on the grimy new york subway floor.
“mark” a familiar voice called out to him. “yes y/n?” he responded, a swirl of neon colors surrounded him, his skin was no longer slightly tan it was neon red with some swirls of blue. he was still in the subway but it was empty. dead silent his own thoughts, and spiders the only things in the station. you were in the form a beautiful pink tarantula crawling all over marks body.
“you know what you have to do right?”
“what do i have to do?”
“save new york” you brushed against his cheek lovingly “save our friends, save me, and most of all” you had somehow reappeared in front of him crawling down from her own line of webs. “save yourself.”
“how do i do that?”
“22nd street my love”
mark heard that laugh he always loved to hear, then a sharp pain in his arm again.
“FUCK” he yelled when he woke up, surprised to see that it wasn’t the “pink tarantula” that hit him, but an IV going into the underside of his wrist.
“calm down mr.lee it’s okay, you had quite a scare there” a nurse rubbed his forehead “anything i can get you? some water? some juice you had a pretty bad panic attack there”
mark sighed
‘how am i supposed to save new york with anxiety?’
☀︎☂︎☀︎☂︎
“hyuck” mark said as they walked home from the hospital. “yeah?” he responded taking one of his headphones out his ear. “have you ever been to 22nd street?” haechan shrugged “yeah i’ve been by there, it’s nothing but some apartments...why?”
“i think we have to go there”
that piqued haechan interest, not in a good way though. “you’re not tired i mean...i know you have super stamina but you just had such a bad anxiety attack you passed out” he blinked “i don’t see how you’re not exhausted, fuck— even IM exhausted” mark shrugged and walked in the other direction in hopes to catch a bus, “you coming?”
“so am i like your agent or something” haechan said smacking on the lunchable from his backpack loudly, so loud that mark couldn’t even hear himself think. between the homeless people, the bucket drum line, haechan obnoxious chewing, mark couldn’t hear himself think. “OKAY JUST SHUT UP” he snapped, all attention on him. “oh— uh not you guys i—“ mark quickly became flustered looking at haechan for some help. “OH— uhhh, my friend here has a disorder. sorry about that” haechan rubbed mark on the back, watching as heads turned back to what the were doing. “thank god” mark sighed in relief as they reached their stop. “i feel something...” the same ringing in his ears was back, becoming quieter as he walked in different directions dragging haechan in zigzags along with him
finally, mark and haechan arrived at their “destination”. all it appeared to be was just a regular apartment building. “what the fuck?” mark huffed slamming his fists aganist the wall, accidentally triggering something.
the small alley way they were in between revealed a door, the two boys looked at each other in pure amazement as they jumped through. “what is this?” mark said in awe staring down the walls. “don’t touch anything” an older man said swatting his hand away “you’re the new guy?” he looked mark up and down “the standards must be in hell”
“hi nice to meet you too!” mark sarcastically said. “i didn’t ask.” the man simply replied. “follow me though.” the boys did as they were told. “i believe that we were all put on this earth for one reason, to wreck havoc and help when havoc wrecks things” the older man laughed at his own terrible joke. “that’s why some people their genetic code is different, they’re products of some very expensive experiments, and my favorite” he chuckled “wrong place right time”
“so where do i fall?” mark wondered out loud. “the third one sweetheart” the older man bent down into a mini fridge and got out something to drink. “so basically what i’m saying kid.” he slurped it loudly in marks ears “help when havoc wrecks, whenever it does”with the snap of fingers, haechan and mark were back home and mark was dressed in a red and blue spandax suit. a black spider embroidered on the chest. “bro? you look—“ mark raised a brow, thinking he was still in his regular clothes. “you look like an actual superhero!” haechan danced around the room. “i do?” he stepped infront of the mirror “oh— I DO”
“what should i call myself. tarantula boy?—no too weird spider boy? no too immature”
“spider-man” haechan suggested
“spider-man...” mark said to himself in the mirror.
“i guess i’m spider man...”
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cheeriecherry · 4 years
Text
Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi} [6/9]
EraserMic x Reader
Part 6/9
Warnings: none, a little fluff, some suggestive themes but nothing explicit
The next few days pass both quickly and slowly. Every time you look at the clock, mere minutes have passed since the last time, but when you spend your afternoons planning alongside other pros, it’s so fast-paced you can barely keep up.
Shouta and Hizashi made true on their words, calling in personal favours and putting together a capable team of trusted heroes. You supply them with as much information as you can, about Oracle’s visions as well as how Akuma works. By the end of the week, you’ve got an ambush plan in place.
You’ll be the one luring the villain out into the open, since you’re her prime target. You also know that she won’t show herself unless she has a clear getaway, so unfortunately the street where she attacks you has to stay open to the public. But with Shouta on standby in the vicinity, there shouldn’t be any casualties.
Hizashi and a couple others will be nearby, ready to add some extra hands to the fight if necessary, but if everything goes accordingly then Akuma should be in quirk-nullifying handcuffs in under a minute. Then she’ll be brought into custody, and she’ll be out of your life for good.
Still, you’re on edge. Akuma was well known in the underground for being clever and wily. There was always the possibility that something could go awry, in any way, shape, or form. For instance, if one of your team mates got caught in her tar, the whole plan would go to shit.
You sigh deeply and lean back in your deck chair, staring up at the afternoon sky. The closer you got to your supposed death, the more you felt like you were going to fall prey to it, like Oracle said people did. It felt like fate was swallowing you up, ready to consume you whole.
You have to want to come out of this, they’d said, but you were tired. So tired. Exhausted after years and years of horrific sights and fears. You knew you didn’t want to die, but…
“Is that the same thing as wanting to live…?” you ask yourself, not expecting an answer. Would not wanting to die be enough to free you from Akuma, should she catch you? Or was everything for naught, simply because you were having a hard time? What if all you were doing was walking straight into your own death?
You pinch your eyes shut when the sun becomes too bright to bear. Maybe you should have listened to Hizashi while you’d still had the chance; turned tail and run far away from Akuma, and kept running, and running, and running, and never stopping, never living, never slowing down. Ever.
“What is life without experiences,” you mumble, “if not sadness, if not laughter, if not love…”
Running would mean you’d be alive, but not living. Death meant you would be neither. But which was the worse choice, and for whom?
You just wished you had more time-
You pause, blinking your eyes open in surprise. I’m talking as if I know I’m going to die. Have I seriously condemned myself to this fate?
You frown. There’s hope. There has to be. Even if Akuma catches me, there’s hope…
Until there isn’t.
“Shut up,” you tell yourself, in an attempt to quell your cynical inner voice.
How do I fight without hope? Keep moving forward without hope?
Tears bud behind your eyelashes, though not from the brightness of the sky. You sniffle a little, trying to blink them away, but it’s mere seconds before they’re rolling down your cheeks in tidy little streams. Your body trembles with silent sobs, and you curl yourself tighter into a ball. When was the last time you’d even felt hope?
Hell, when was the last time you’d felt happy?
You let yourself cry for a few minutes, allowing your feelings to run their course and dissipate naturally, like your therapist had suggested you do. When your breathing begins to even out, and your thoughts begin to form again, you wipe your eyes.
When did I last feel hope?
“Coming home,” you whisper, “Seeing Shouta and Hizashi in the airport. Seeing them smile. Feeling safe in their arms. Sleeping a full night beside them, without any nightmares. Having them support me, and stand by me, no matter what.”
And imagining the future the three of us could have. Teaching, loving, living. Maybe getting married? Having a family?
It dawns on you then, a blinding revelation. If you found it hard to have hope and fight for yourself, then maybe you could do it for other people. For their hopes, their lives, their families. Protect them, and stay strong for them, until you found the strength to do it for yourself.
You’d survive, you decide. You’d come out of this for Shouta and Hizashi, for their love and their light, because you knew that with them you’d find hope, and a future, and all three of you were willing to fight for it.
----
Your boyfriends arrive home on schedule, to find the dinner table set and you bringing food out to it. Both of them watch you for a moment, taking note of the skip in your step and the smile on your face.
You greet them happily when you see them in the doorway, coming over to give them both a kiss. Shouta returns his gently, which Hizashi captures you in a hug and peppers smooches all over your cheek.
“Now this is a nice treat to come home to,” the blond says, finding a seat at the table. He at least has the manners to wait until everyone else is sitting before piling food onto his plate. “What’s the occasion, sweetheart?”
You shrug and shake your head, scooping a few things onto your own dish. “No occasion. I’m just...feeling good. Better than I have in a while, actually.”
Shouta gives you one of his rare smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he says, “what changed?”
“Dunno,” you reply. “Well, sort of. Something Oracle had said got me to think.”
“Oh?”
“‘If people don’t want to live, then fate will eat them right up’.”
“They said that?” Hizashi asks around a mouthful of dinner.
“I’m paraphrasing,” you tell him. “My point is… I have a lot of shit I need to deal with, a lot of baggage I need to unpack, and two weeks isn’t enough time to do that. So until I can find the means to be strong and hopeful for me, I’ve decided that I’m going to do it for you. To protect your futures, your lives, your hearts, all of it. Even if I don’t have hope now, I know that it’ll come back. I just need to work at it, and be patient.”
By the time you finish your little tangent, Hizashi’s eyes have gotten misty, and Shouta’s have an ill-hidden glint of pride. You reach out slowly towards them, and take one of their hands in both of yours.
“I love you both so much, you know? So much. I always have. And no one is going to take that away from me.”
----
You’re staring at the ceiling, the dark, dark ceiling, as the clock ticks past two. Shouta and HIzashi are laid on either side of you, wedging you comfortably between them. They’re both fast asleep, if their even breaths and quiet snores are anything to go by. Oh, how you envied them.
Instead, though, you’re awake. Very awake, counting the tiles above you for the fourth time. Your earlier pleasant mood has all but vanished, leaving you riddled with your more common anxiety and restlessness.
Careful not to wake your boyfriends, you shimmy out of bed and sneak into the living room, where you then slip outside onto the back deck.
Your intention was to find a cozy spot and watch the city lights in the sky for a while, but instead you find a familiar hooded figure hunkered down on one of the chairs, curled up tightly and looking extremely small.
You take a seat beside them, keeping your eyes trained on them while they catch their breath. Their shoulders are stiff, and their nails are biting into their palms from being curled into such tight fists. You know they wouldn’t have sought you out if they didn’t want to talk, but you still decide not to push them into conversation.
It takes a few minutes for them to speak, breaking the comfortable silence amassed between you.
“I keep seeing people dying,” they mumble, tucking their knees closer to their chest.
“That’s how your quirk works, isn’t it?”
They nod. “Yeah, but I mean specifically next week. Every time I warn someone, it seems like there’s two more visions that need sorting.”
“It sounds tiring,” you admit. “It must be exhausting having other people’s fates in your hands.”
Oracle sighs. They push their hood off and let it flop around their shoulders, finally letting you see their mop of dark hair. They haven’t got their usual mask on tonight either, and you’re sure that you can count a couple freckles splattered across tawny cheeks.
“It is,” they tell you, “not just the mental and emotional toll, but the physical, too. I have seizures every time I have a vision, y’know? I have medication that stops them, but...it also stops the visions.”
Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. You’re genuinely shocked that a quirk could have such an expensive side effect on someone, especially a literal kid. 
“Maybe you should take your medication-”
“Not until I have another way to help people!” Their tone is sharp, but they look abashed as soon as the words leave their mouth. “Sorry…”
“It’s fine, kid. I get it.” And you do. All throughout your life, you wanted nothing more than to do good and make a difference in people’s lives, no matter the personal cost. “But...it’s important to take care of yourself too, okay? Otherwise you’ll end up...well, like me.”
They pout at your words, and it looks like they want to make a sarcastic quip, but they decide against it and the two of you lull into silence. It lasts almost ten minutes this time, and for a minute you wonder if Oracle has fallen asleep.
But when you glance over at them, they’re staring at the dark cloudy sky.
“Is...is there any way you can move Akuma’s ambush to a more secluded area?” they ask, voice so quiet you can barely hear them. “Or close the street off?”
“I’m sorry, kid,” your shoulders fall and you cast your eyes downward. “If I could, I would. But this is the only time we know for certain where she’s gonna be. We can’t risk throwing that away. Not for my safety, not for the public’s safety.” Your voice is small and bitter when you utter your next words, “As much I hate to have that mentality, catching her now will save more people in the long run.”
You can feel Oracle’s annoyance bubbling off them, even from several feet away, and quite frankly you don’t blame them. It was an unfortunate way of thinking you’d had to adopt while you were undercover, to keep yourself from trying to save everyone. It was one of the most difficult things you’d ever had to learn, forcing yourself to put your mission and future lives ahead of the currently-suffering.
Every time you’d watched your superiors kill an innocent person, you’d silently promised them that they wouldn’t die for nothing. But it still drove you crazy.
“That’s a stupid way to think,” Oracle hisses.
“I know.”
“People matter. No matter how small their lives may seem, how insignificant, they matter.”
“I know.”
“So if you can’t change the ambush, then I want in on it. I know who I’m looking for. I can find them, and get them out of the area safely.”
You groan inwardly and let your head fall forward. “Kid, I can’t legally allow you to do that-”
“Y/N, please!”
“I said legally.”
They bite their tongue and quiet down, catching onto your plan quickly. You explain to them how the ambush is going to work, letting them know where everyone would be and what roles they’d all play. Oracle winces a little when they realize you’re basically the bait for the whole operation, but you assure them that you’re in good hands. You trust the people you’re working with, and you trust your boyfriends.
“Don’t wear your vigilante uniform either, you’ll be too easily spotted. But make sure you bring a mask in your pocket to protect your identity.”
They nod enthusiastically, hanging on your every word. You emphasize the fact that they need to stay out from underfoot, lest they interfere with the plan you’ve set in place. “And once all your visions are dealt with, you get out of there. You don’t stick around to try and help more people. Understood?”
“Yes ma’am!”
You roll your eyes at their childish demeanor, and silently wonder if you’ve made the right choice in letting them help, or if you’d just sentenced a kid to their demise.
A shiver wracks your body and draws you out of your thoughts, and you’re suddenly very aware that you’re only in thin shorts and a tank top.
“You should go inside,” Oracle says, standing up. “Wouldn’t want you getting sick. Besides, it’s almost three, and I have class at eight. I should go home before my dad scolds me.”
Your heart aches for them, for the stress they have bearing down on such young shoulders.
You stand up beside them, stretch, and shiver again. “What are you studying for?” you ask before they leave, hiding a smile when their face lights up.
“I’m gonna be an EMT!” they declare proudly. “I’ve always wanted to help people, even before I knew what to do with my quirk. I figured that since I work well under pressure, a high stress job would be suitable.”
You smile fondly at them, feeling some kind of almost-parental affection. “Keep working at it, then, and I’m sure you’ll get there. You’re a smart kid.”
They grin back at you with a cheeky expression. “The day that ‘Oracle’ disappears is the day you’d better watch out for me on the scene! I’ll be there, in the background.”
You bid your goodnights to each other after that, and you wait until they’re out of sight before walking back into the warmth of the house.
When you get in, you’re somehow unsurprised to find Shouta waiting for you on the couch. His expression and posture are both relaxed and neutral, but you can tell there’s something on his mind.
“How much did you hear?” you ask sheepishly.
“Enough,” he says. “You’re letting a vigilante help? Do you even know them?”
You take a seat beside him on the couch, falling sideways to cuddle up on his chest. He tosses an arm around your waist, pulling you closer and holding you safe.
“They’re the one who gave us this opportunity in the first place,” you chide, “without them, I’d be dead and you’d be getting a solemn phonecall about it. Besides, they would’ve shown up anyways. At least this way, they can stay out from under our feet.”
Shouta sighs deeply, a low rumble you feel against your body. His arm tightens around you ever so slightly, and you glance up at him.
“What’re you thinking about?” you wonder, reaching up to curl a few strands of his hair around your fingers.
“Oracle. They just...remind me a lot of my students, is all.”
“How so?”
“Young and naive, determined to the point of stupidity-” 
You snicker quietly.
“-but hopeful, and filled with potential. Granted they have a good guiding hand.”
You stretch up and lay a couple soft kisses along his jaw. “You’re students are lucky to have you,” you tell him honestly. “As am I.”
You lay there for a few more minutes, sharing idle thoughts and sweet kisses, simply enjoying each other’s company. You know he’s worried about the fight to come, about your survival, as well as the people caught in the crossfire. You know he’d never say any of it out loud, but you can feel it in the tension he carries.
Hoping to ease him a little, you deepen your kisses, moving your lips slowly and sensually, teasing him with the tip of your tongue. He makes a noise low in his throat, and before you know it he’s flipped your positions, caging you in beneath him.
You whine as he mouths along your jaw and throat, squirming a little against the weight of his body as his hands slip under your shirt to knead at your chest. His lips trail further and further downwards, and you eagerly press up against him, moving around so his thigh comes to rest between your legs. But just as you’re ready to fully submit to him, he pauses.
“The things I’d love to do to you,” he mutters, and pulls back. You make a noise of protest, wriggling a little to try and reestablish the delicious attention he’d been giving you.
He shushes you with a kiss.”Behave,” he tells you firmly, a thinly veiled order that only serves to spark your arousal. “You’re exhausted, Y/N. As much as I’d love to have my way with you, you can barely keep your eyes open.”
You hate to admit it in such circumstances, but you know he’s right. You feel heavy and hazy, and not just from his earlier ministrations.
He gives one last kiss to the crown of your head, and rolls off you, pulling you to your feet alongside him. You wander back to bed together, smiling when you find Hizashi still out cold, and slip quietly back under the covers.
You fade into sleep to the sound of soft goodnights.
----
You’re alone the next morning when you wake, as per usual. You vaguely recall your boyfriends kiss you good morning and then goodbye, but you had still been mostly asleep then.
You’re pretty certain you’d had some unsettling dreams, no different than usual, but it shocked you how quickly you’d gotten used to not having them. A couple good days in a row, and you were left quaking by the return of your nightmares.
There was the familiar imagery of your past, of course, it was something you dreamt of often. But alongside those thoughts were worries and fears of your future. At this point, you had less than a week until Akuma’s attack, and your nerves were starting to get the better of you.
Despite your earlier enthusiasm about ‘staying strong for other people’, you’re once again finding it difficult to imagine a happy outcome. Your therapist had mentioned you’d have high points and low points in your recovery, and that you couldn’t force yourself to feel or not feel either of them. But what if you were in a low point during the attack? What if you got caught and you couldn’t find the strength that day to get out?
What if ‘being in a low spot’ meant you’d die?
You grumble and pinch your eyes shut, rolling over in bed, but it’s too bright and you’re too alert now to fall back asleep.
Maybe you’d feel better if you did something today. You knew your schedule was clear for the afternoon, not having a therapy session until tomorrow. Maybe you could try and brave the mall again…
You weren’t sure if you’d be able to cope, should you get anxious, but a little piece of you really really wanted to try. Plus, you were running out of clothes to wear, and you’d already done the laundry twice.
Maybe you could get something for your boys, too…
----
The mall is less busy than the last time you’d ventured out, which you’re grateful for. Fewer people overall, and a quieter atmosphere made it a little easier to handle, but you still had a pair of Hizashi’s fancy headphones tucked away in case you needed some quiet.
You wander in and out of several stores, perusing the clothes and trying a few things on. You end up putting most of it back on the shelves, but you manage to find two or three things in every store you visit. It’s a substantial haul when all is said and done, and your arms are loaded with bags.
In the past, you would have smacked yourself on the back of the head for spending so much money in one sitting, but with the paycheck you’d gotten for your time undercover, you could afford to go a little overboard.
At least the commission hadn’t been stingy on it’s compensation, for all the shit you had to deal with now.
You set your purchases down on an empty bench and sort your clothes into just a few bags, so it would be easier to carry home. Part of you cringes when you look at the receipts, but you quickly shove them away. Out of sight, out of mind.
Then, just when you’re about to pack up and leave, a blindingly pink store catches your eye. Oh.
Well, you had wanted to get something for Hizashi and Shouta...and thinking back to the previous night, when Shouta’d had his hands up your shirt, you know that both of them would appreciate something like that.
So you wander into the lingerie shop, growing shy as you wander around the racks and look at all the options. You didn’t want something too difficult to remove, even though all the strings and straps would be sexy, and you didn’t want something too plain, or innocent. 
You think hard about it as you flip through clothes hangers and observe each set. Wrong colour, wrong shape, wrong size, too flashy, not flashy enough, itchy fabric...it feels like an impossible mission to find anything even remotely suitable.
You’re just about to give up and walk out, when your eyes land on one of the mannequins. It was unrealistically proportioned, but you were more interested in the lingerie it was displaying. Simple, classic, elegant, sexy...it was perfect.
You find your size on the shelf beside the display, and walk out of the store a few minutes later with another bag in hand, feeling remarkably pleased with yourself. You only hope your boyfriends wouldn’t tear the set to shreds when they finally got their hands on you.
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sirowsky · 3 years
Text
The Flowers Always Know
Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Language, some mild smut.
Link to Masterlist
Comment: All I can say is: I’m sorry. My head is a strange place.
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Chapter 29
  “Marcus!! Oh, get that sweet tush over here and hug me, and you better make it a good one after you’ve neglected to visit my cave for longer than these magic hands care to remember.”
  You already loved Velma.
  “Hey, Vel. I’m sorry, I’ve been preoccupied.”
  He did hug her, and properly too, as well as about 10s longer than what would be considered socially acceptable for mere friends, without either of them seeming to find it weird or awkward at all.   You still loved her.
  “Thank you, my darling. You’re forgiven. Now, tell me what you’ve brought me?”
  He beamed at you. He really did love any opportunity to show you off, but he seemed especially pleased about this introduction.
  “Velma, this is my fiancé. Hermosa, as you’ve undoubtedly gathered – this is the one and only Velma.”
  “Your fi… You’re getting… And you’re here. You brought her to me! Are you…?”
  “Yes. I am. On both counts.”
  “YES!! Thank the Greek fucking Gods!! A wedding-dress, and for you, my darling, of all people! Thank you.”
  “Well, technically it’s for her.”
  “Oh, no, sugar. The dress is for the groom. The shoes – are for the bride.”
  She finally set all of her glorious attention on you.
  Velma was a drag-queen, and the most awe-inspiring individual you’d ever seen. Everything about her was superior. She was taller than anyone else in the room, helped by fucking spectacular plateau shoes, she was broad-shouldered and muscular to boot. She carried herself like an empress, with a kind of stillness and real elegance, despite having so much flare and finesse to her. And even though she was covered in colours and sparkles, she somehow looked like she would belong absolutely anywhere.   And when she actually looked you in the eye, you could almost feel her read the pages of the book that was your life, and yet, there was nothing intimidating about it.
  “Well, now. There’s a lot of story here, isn’t there?”
  “A bit. Yeah.”
  “Mm. Alright then, come with me, darling. I demand to know every little detail about the woman my Marcus has chosen.”
  She turned dramatically, and headed for a side-door in the studio workshop where you were, and you looked at Marcus with a wide grin.
  “She’s coming to the wedding.”
  “Don’t worry – she’s on the list.”
  “I don’t care about any list. She’s coming. I need that amount of sparkle at my wedding. And I’m not just talking about the clothes.”
  He chuckled happily as he watched you literally skip over to the open door, and disappear inside.
-----
  Three weeks later, you finally got around to getting your house sold. It was a fairly quick sale since the neighbourhood was nice and the yard was bigger than most other properties on that street. And since you didn’t really need the extra money, you could give the young couple that fell in love with it, a kind price.   You weren’t really particularly sorry to see it go, but you were very happy to see it fall into the hands of people who would appreciate it. For a long time, that house had been your refuge, your safe harbour when life got hard, and you wished that it could be the same for someone else.   You put the bulk of the money in your savings-account, and ear-marked the rest for wedding-expenses.   There still wasn’t really any actual planning going on, as far as dates and times and venues were concerned. But you and Marcus were still getting through a lot of the stuff that goes on around the actual day.   You’d settled on what colours you wanted for the flowers, and what types they should be. You’d had an almost outrageously fun day last weekend, trying out the recipes for all the wedding-cakes you’d both found online. And after soiling literally every inch of the kitchen with flour, and tasting so many different cakes your taste-buds had eventually given up, you had managed to conclude that you wanted a lemon-flavoured one. Missy had tried to get you onto the chocolate-train, but you’d held your ground, with the promise that there would indeed be chocolate present, just not in the cake.   You’d completed the guest-list, and chosen the invitation cards, but they were safely stowed away in a drawer, still unwritten.   It wasn’t that you were stalling or didn’t feel ready. You were just genuinely enjoying the preparations, and not having that deadline made them feel like they were just fun things to do over a weekend, rather than things you had to do to be ready in time. Especially since Missy loved being a part of it too, it made the whole thing feel like a prolonged family event.
  By now, the only thing that was still on the prep-list was Marcus’ suit, but you’d both agreed not to make any decisions on that until you’d seen what Velma did with your dress.   You’d spent two whole days in her cave, getting your measurements taken and your skin-tone evaluated. There were about a hundred things about your body that she’d wanted to know, but you trusted her with your life already, so you’d happily complied.   Plus; any excuse to spend time with her was a good one.   Work was finally becoming manageable again, as you’d finally caught up on all the stuff that was trailing behind, and you were deliberately keeping any and all new projects firmly steered in other directions or delegating them onto other designers. You had enough on your plate with just getting through the already started ones, on top of the wedding-planning.   Today had been a good day, so far, and you’d decided to go and find Marcus and see if he had time to join you for lunch.   When you approached his office, his door was open and you could hear Tech talking. Not wanting to interrupt, you stopped outside and out of sight, while you waited for their conversation to finish. You picked up your phone to send an e-mail while you waited.
  “I can’t believe that building was still standing after that.”
  “Crushing lost control for three seconds. Let’s just be grateful it wasn’t longer.”
  “Oh, I remember that time back in the beginning when he was out of it for like 20 seconds.”
  “I think most of Colombia remembers that, too.”
  “Probably.”
  “Hey, um. Speaking of losing control…”
  “What?”
  “Well, there’s a certain office on the other side of the building that gets a fair bit of noise-complaints.”
  You snapped out of your e-mailing and instinctively turned your head to listen closer.
  “Stay out of it, Tech.”
  “Hey, I’m not the filing them, and I never will. I’m all for healthy appetites. Just wondering if you’re aware of the fact that a lot of people are talking about you guys?”
  “So? Let ‘em talk.”
  “Sure. But they’re not talking about it being a nuisance or inappropriate. They’re talking about how the hell you can keep it up for three hours straight sometimes. Is that true, though?”
  You weren’t sure if you wanted the ground to open up and swallow you, or if you wanted to go find these people and tell them to mind their own business.   There was a brief pause before Marcus answered, and his voice was a bit lower than before.
  “It is. I seriously can’t get enough of her. Ever. No matter how tired I get, I can always go another round.”
  “That’s kind of amazing. How do you ever get anything done?”
  “I have no idea.”
  “Any idea when the knot-tying might be happening?”
  “No. I’m dying to do it, to the point where I have to repeatedly tell myself not to just beg her to go to Vegas with me. But I also really wanna get it right, you know? Not necessarily perfect; just right. Right for us. And I want her to feel ready, so that she can just relax and enjoy that day, whenever it happens.”
  Your heart swelled to an almost painful size behind your ribs.
  “I am ready, honey.”
  You stepped over the threshold and watched as his expression turned from confusion to realisation as he saw you.
  “You wouldn’t have to beg. I’d go to Vegas with you right now if you asked. I’ve told you; I don’t really care how it happens. I’m enjoying the preparations and everything we’re doing together, but even if nothing ever got used, I wouldn’t feel like I missed out on anything. You’re the one that wanted the traditions, remember?”
  Tech excused himself at that point, and closed the door behind him after he left.
  “Do you still want all that, Marcus?”
  He looked so torn.
  “Damned it… Yes. I really do.”
  “Then let’s pick a date. Let’s find a place that feels right and let’s make it happen.”
  “Are you sure?”
  “Are you ready?”
  He shot up from his chair and was suddenly holding your waist, staring into your eyes.
  “Ah, mi novia, I’ve been ready for a long time.”
  His hands migrated down to your ass, and you let him squeeze you to him. You were wearing a simple blue summer-dress today, and he quickly found his way underneath it, letting his hands run up your thighs and relieve you of your panties.   Then he pulled you along to the sofas, sitting down and urging you to straddle him.   It was almost strange how calm it was. The two of you were always so heated, so passionate whenever you came together, to the point where it was almost always beyond your control, or at least, on the very edge of it.   But this time, there was no tearing at each other’s clothes. No hands desperately grasping, needing and demanding more. No burning heat that made you feel empty and aching until he entered you.   The heat did come, but gradually. With each caress, each tender kiss and each movement of your bodies together, it slowly built from an ember to a flame.   Your walls actually allowed him to move inside you this time, and as you rocked yourself over him, a completely different kind of pleasure to what you’d become used to with him, built inside your core and seemed to reach towards your heart, instead of your sex.   After a while, he turned you both to the side so he could lay you down and settle himself on top of you, and that feeling that was creeping towards your chest, drastically intensified. He drove into you in long, strong thrusts that buried him as deep as your bodies would allow, each time, and his throat made involuntary little sounds of pleasure every time he returned into your wet and welcoming warmth.   It took you nearly thirty minutes to build to a climax this time, and when it finally hit, it was strong in a completely different way than it ever had been before. Your bodies didn’t curl or clench in on themselves, there were no involuntary power-outbursts, no levitation. But it felt like you were underneath each other’s skin. Like your hearts actually melded into one through the intricate contact of your skin and nerves.   It was utterly overwhelming and there were tears streaming from your eyes throughout the whole climax. And they didn’t stop, even after you’d come back down.   There was no pain or sorrow anywhere inside you in that moment, so you concluded that these were tears of pure love and you made no effort to stop them. You just held him close and waited for the feeling to burn itself out.   He burrowed his face into your neck while you laid there, feeling the tears as they passed over onto his cheek on their way down, but making no comment about them. He knew what they were, and it made him love them too.
  You took a late lunch together, and since the pills were working perfectly and the lab had been able to produce several months-worth already, you could enjoy eating like a normal person these days.   Marcus really did miss your stomach-bear, though, and he would occasionally drop comments like ‘this is one of those moments when mama bear would have roared’, and you felt a little bit sorry for him. It was like he’d lost a puppy.   While you ate, you started discussing what places you thought might be nice for a venue.
  “Churches are nice, but a bit… I hesitate to say ‘stuffy’.”
  “Yeah. They feel so formal, like you’re not allowed to have fun, and I really want us and our guests to feel like we’re allowed to have fun.”
  “Definitely. So, what about restaurants?”
  “Not my thing, if I’m honest, hermosa.”
  “I figured. Pavilion?”
  “Now, we’re talking. A big one, with lots of decorations and a dance-floor!”
  “You and your dancing.”
  “Oh, no; you’re the dancer, remember?”
  “And your foxtrot is adequate, but your waltz needs some work.”
  “Thanks. So, do we know of any potentially available pavilions, or are we gonna have to build one?”
  “Don’t you worry about that, sugar-plum, if it’s a pavilion you’re looking for – I know the perfect one.”
  Velma approached your table, wearing an even more daring outfit than last time you’d seen her. As always, she made a show of eyeing Marcus up and down and making appreciative noises to showcase his hunky-ness. And, as always, Marcus just smiled and let her do her thing.
  “Where is it?”
  “Didn’t I just tell you not to worry? I’ll take you to see it later if you want, but for now – I need to borrow your little cherry, here. Time to dolly you up, hon.”
  “It’s finished?”
  “Literally seconds ago. I came to find you right away, I need to see it on you before I can definitively say that it’s done.”
  Marcus beamed at you both while Velma slipped her arm through yours and led you back to her cave.
  Somehow, you’d expected it to be difficult to get into, or at least require assistance, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t a big or flaunty thing, nor was it heavy or complicated in its design. And yet, there was something so special about it.   It was snow-white with a hint of gold to the shimmer in the fabric, to match the rings. It was an off the shoulder style dress, with long sleeves in the most beautiful lace you’d ever seen, that carried over into the body of the dress as well, though it was purely ornamental there, as the actual body was made from satin.   From the waist down, there was no lace, but tiny golden details had been sewn into the satin and it made the dress come alive somehow.   The skirt was cleverly designed, so that it billowed out just a little, but without getting puffy, and it was still just two layers, making it easy to handle and comfortable to move in. There was no train, but she had made you a vail in the same exquisite lace, in case you decided that you wanted one.
  “Oh, my. Honey… I thought it looked gorgeous on the mannequin, but damn! You make this dress.”
  “It’s perfect, Velma. It’s everything I didn’t know I wanted.”
  “Marcus is gonna swoooooon…”
  “He’s gonna love it.”
  “Well, just make sure to have someone strong standing next to him so they can catch him when he inevitably goes down.”
  You just smiled at her.
  “Oh, and thank you for the shoes. You’re right, I’m gonna love these a lot more than the dress before the night’s over.”
  “You got that right, Cherie.”
  You met up with Marcus as soon as you were done in the cave, and the smile that lit up his face when he saw you carrying the special box that housed the dress, shoes and vail, could have put the sparkles in Velma’s very short skirt to shame.
  “You actually have it? It’s finished?”
  “It’s right in here.”
  He looked positively squirmy with anticipation.
  “And it’s even more beautiful than anything you’ve imagined. Trust me.”
  He chuckled.
  “I do.”
  Velma took you out to see the pavilion she’d mentioned, and it really was perfect. It sat on several acres of green lawns and meadows, with a large pond not too far from the structure. You could have the ceremony out on the grass, overlooking the water, and put up a canopy over the tables and chairs for the dinner and cake. And then move over to the pavilion for the dancing and fun-times. There were huge old oak-trees framing the entire area, giving the whole place a bit of a fairy-tale feeling.
  “Marcus, we have to pick a date. We have to find out if this place is available for us.”
  “Oh, don’t you worry about that, honey-bun. It’ll be available whenever you want it.”
  Velma gave you this knowing look and you gawked at her.
  “You own this place?”
  “For a long time now. I only use it for very special occasions, and I don’t go blabbering about it to every Joe and Willy looking for a party-house. But for you, my turtle-doves, it’ll always be available.”
  By the time you went to bed that day, you’d not only picked a date, but completed and sent all of the invitations as well.   You were going to get married on the ten-month anniversary of when you first opened your eyes and saw him by your bedside, which gave you roughly a month to get everything ready. And since you had everything pretty much figured out already, that wasn’t going to be a hard deadline to keep.
  Or, so you thought.
  But the day before the wedding came at you like you’d somehow fallen asleep at the wheel going 200mph down the highway.   Suddenly it was all happening. And while you were totally ready emotionally, you were also just not ready over-all, and you woke up that morning feeling sick. Actually sick.   Marcus was too excited to get more than 4h of sleep per night in the week leading up to that day, but he didn’t want to disturb you, so he’d gotten up and left the bedroom some time earlier that morning.   You walked into the bathroom to splash some cold water on your face but it didn’t do much to alleviate the nausea, so you gave up and just got dressed instead.
  “Hey, alma, are you okay?”
  “Yeah, sweetie, just feeling a little overwhelmed I guess.”
  “You sure?”
  “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The wedding is happening, come hell or high water.”
  “Good.”
  “Where’s Marcus?”
  “He got called in to work really early, some crisis with a blue-whale, I think.”
  “Okay, well, then I’ll drive you to school.”
  “Are you sure you shouldn’t just take a sick-day?”
  “I’m not gonna be helped by sitting here wringing my hands all day. Let’s go, Maid of Honour.”
  She smiled at that, but then frowned.
  “You’re not gonna have breakfast?”
  “Kid, I’ll be happy if I can keep the damned pill down this morning.”
  You dropped her off and went to work, intending to treat this like any other Friday. But when you stepped into your office, there was a weird smell that just set off all your senses, and you had to duck over the first available trashcan and vomit. Since your stomach was empty, all that came up was bile, and that somehow made you even more nauseas.
  What the fuck was that smell?
  You abandoned your office and headed for Marcus’ instead. It smelled fine, so you sat down at his computer and used your own login to access your files and get to work.   But after about an hour you’d had to visit his bathroom three times as your stomach continued to try and cough up shit that wasn’t even there, and you gave up, and headed down to medical.
  You had just intended to ask for some anti-nausea medication, but because of your medical history, they insisted on an exam to rule out any possible delayed complications.
  You left medical in a daze, not even realising where you were going before you found yourself back in Marcus’ office.   You sat down in one of the sofas and just waited. You didn’t dare to even try and feel anything without him there, because you were afraid that you might suddenly feel way too much, and you needed him to be there, to keep you calm if that happened.   Some time later, Crushing ducked his head in and had to almost shout to get your attention.
  “Huh… What?”
  “I said, Marcus went home straight from the mission, two hours ago, he had something he wanted to get done for tomorrow. So, there’s no need to wait for him here.”
  “Oh. What time is it?”
  “Almost five.”
  “Shit…”
  “Hey, you okay?”
  “I hope so. Yes. I mean, yes.”
  “Want me to take you home?”
  “No, I’ll be fine, thanks Crush.”
  You drove home being almost ridiculously cautious and you laughed a little at yourself when you parked the car, next to Marcus’.   You were surprised to find the front door locked. You never locked the door when you were home. They must have gone out on foot for some reason.   Fishing your keys out of your bag, you unlocked it and stepped inside, and you were just about to call out to see if anyone was home, when you heard a sound that made every hair on your body stand straight up.   It was a mechanical sound, a machine of some sort. You couldn’t identify it, but your body sure as hell remembered it.   Walking into the living room, a fear unlike anything you’d ever felt before, flooded every cell inside of you.   Your own blood rushing in your ears drowned out the sound of your keys and handbag falling to the floor, as you tried to take in what you were seeing.
  Tubes… wires… computers… machines… bags of liquids… chairs that weren’t chairs but fucking instruments of torture. Two of them. One for Marcus… and one for Missy.   And right in between them – Dr. Prince.
Authors’ Note: I love criticism, don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.
@blueeyesatnight​ @farfromjustordinary @allmyspideys @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog
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backtothestart02 · 3 years
Text
Don’t Give Up On Me - 2/? | westallen fanfiction
A/N: Sooo...I’ve decided to make this fic a little longer than initially anticipated. Prob just 3 or 4 chaps instead of 2, but I just couldn’t bring myself to force an ending by the time I got to 2k in this one, so here you go. I hope you enjoy it. More angst with a glimmer of hope at the end.
...
Chapter 2 -
The next morning Iris woke up to the sun shining down upon her face. She moaned softly and stretched her arm across the bed, expecting to feel Barry’s warmth beside her. It was Sunday, after all. Neither of them had to go to work. They could just lie around and-
What, Iris?
Her eyes flickered open as the realization of where they were hit her once again – and the fact that there was no Barry in bed beside her. The warmth from his body was gone as well. Lukewarm sheets greeted her, telling her that he’d been gone for a while.
She frowned and sat up in bed, looking around the room.
“Barry?” she called out wonderingly, but there was no response.
She pulled the covers back and stared down at her legs, which were covered in pajama bottoms, same as the top half of her. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d worn these pajamas. These were no-sex pajamas. These were ‘I’m dead to the world, let me sleep’ pajamas. These were when she was mad at Barry for trying to seduce her when she’d made it clear she didn’t want that pajamas. And her next dawning realization was that she hadn’t been the one to put them on.
Barry had.
That broke her heart.
The night flashed before her eyes with blinding certainty. She and Barry had spent the day mostly apart. Again. He’d gone on a late afternoon run in the rain. Which mystified her still. Then she’d ordered take-out for them when he went to take a shower, and… fallen asleep. She fell asleep!
What a terrible day. And poor Barry!
She wouldn’t blame him if he ate all the food himself!
But something in her gut told her he hadn’t eaten a thing. For the same reason he’d gone for a run in the rain, looked like a poor soaked, abandoned puppy when he returned, and hadn’t woken her when the food arrived.
They were growing apart, and he blamed himself.
Well, it is his faul-
She tried to be honest with herself. But she knew it wasn’t the truth. She was to blame too. She might be struggling to come to terms with what happened between her husband and her evil doppleganger, but refusing to talk about it directly with Barry was driving them apart. He was overcompensating for her silence by giving her space, by not trying to coerce kissing or sex out of her, by not complaining, but hell, he had to be torturing himself on the inside.
If she knew Barry, and she did, that was exactly what he was doing.
She hadn’t even been able to read his love letters he left her anymore – the only proof that he was still the old Barry she knew, and everything was right with them in some way. She tucked the new letters away in a drawer in her desk, telling her she’d read them when she was ready, when they were okay again. But there was no way he hadn’t caught on to her not mentioning them when she came home from work these past two weeks. Not when the week before them she’d been unable to stop gushing.
Damn, what had happened?
When did she go from not being able to be separate from him for more than a few minutes to needing a six feet separation at almost all times – and not for the reason the rest of the world was doing it?
She missed his presence now. Not just missed it but craved it.
She had to get past what happened with Mirror Iris, and she knew she wouldn’t until she’d had an honest discussion with Barry. She just didn’t want to have it.
God, she missed them so much she could hardly breathe.
She wanted desperately to go back to the time before the mirrorverse. To that first week after Crisis when they hadn’t been able to get enough of each other, because Barry was alive. She no longer had to worry about Nora growing up without father or herself being widowed at such a young age. They had their whole lives ahead of them now. Nothing could keep them apart.
Until it did.
Shivering somehow from her dark thoughts, she slipped into her fuzzy slippers and made her way down the stairs – after quick popping in the bathroom to see if Barry was there…nope. Maybe he was in the kitchen making breakfast? Not there either. She spotted breakfast though. Pancakes and sausage and bacon and eggs. And orange juice.
She bristled suddenly, wondering if he’d used the expensive juicer Mirror Iris had bought to make him that fancy breakfast that tasted better than hers ever would, and now if she did really try and make something good for him, it would remind him of her copy self. She couldn’t even win that way. She couldn’t win at all.
But Barry’s note next to the food made her eat, reminded her she was hungry, and that even if he wasn’t here, he could maybe see when he returned that she’d eaten his food, that she was grateful. Because she had a husband who cared. Who was trying desperately to make up for something that he had no control over and had been blind to.
But he shouldn’t have been.
She forced her fingers to relax on her fork and read the note again.
Good morning,
Sorry I wasn’t here when you got up. Went for a run.
Enjoy breakfast!
I love you.
Barry
Tears filled her eyes, a few trickling down her cheeks.
How in the world could she hate this man? How could anyone?
And she didn’t hate him, she realized, not for the first time. She convinced herself she did, and that’s why she was so afraid to be honest with him, really honest. She didn’t want to push him away. He was the love of her life. She needed him desperately, even if she hadn’t been acting like it the last couple weeks.
But if she didn’t hate him, then what was holding her back from putting the incident behind her? Was it Mirror Iris she hated? She could understand that. She couldn’t put all her hatred on someone that was quite literally a pile of glass now, so she put it on Barry who had been a willing participant, even though he hadn’t understood the situation for what it was. The true culprit here was Eva McCulloch. She’d started everything by pulling her into the Mirrorverse and creating her doppleganger at the same time. Eva was defeated now. Not dead but driven mad, a fate worse than death as far as Iris was concerned. So who was there left to hate?
Herself?
She swallowed.
She’d gone alone in the middle of the night to Eva McCulloch’s old office. She’d thought she’d find something vital and ended up being the damsel in distress she swore she wasn’t anymore. She’d gotten herself out eventually – and Kamilla and Singh with her, but… At what cost?
Did Barry see her evil doppleganger every time he looked at her?
She shook her head and put away her dishes and the remaining food. She didn’t know where Barry was, but she knew they needed to talk. She needed to be open and honest with him, really honest. She needed to tell him that she didn’t know where her emotions lie exactly but that she didn’t hate him. What she hated was the distance between them. She wasn’t blind to it. It was impossible to ignore.
She licked her lips and retrieved her phone to text him. He was probably still on his run, or maybe he’d gotten swept away with Flash business. Either way, she knew he’d come to her as soon as he could.
That was just the kind of husband he was – devoted, selfless, generous, unrelenting in his love for her.
But just as she was about to open her latest message from him to type a new one, a gust of wind blew around her followed by a brief flash of light. By the time everything settled, Barry was before her – a little out of breath, a little sweaty, but gorgeous and reassuring and safe for her.
Probably not expecting her to be so near when he came in the door, Barry stopped suddenly.
“Hey.”
“Hi,” she said timidly, swallowing again.
His brows furrowed instantly.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” she lied. “I mean, I was just about to text you…to see when you were coming back. I…missed you.”
A heavy weight seemed to have been lifted from his shoulders. She realized it had been a while since she’d said anything remotely close to that to him. She scolded herself inwardly.
“I didn’t want to wake you,” he said, his eyes shifting to the floor. “You were sleeping so peacefully.”
She heard the unspoken words behind the thoughtfulness. No nightmares, no tossing and turning, no crying out in her sleep. Her PTSD from the Mirrorverse came in many forms. Difficulty sleeping was the most common and most intense.
“Well, thanks for breakfast. It was delicious.” She took a step towards him and tried for flirtatious when she said, “The note was really sweet too.” Her eyes sparkled.
Barry didn’t quite know what to make of her behavior. A smile tugged at his lips, but he wasn’t sure whether to believe what was spilling out of her mouth or try to come up with an ulterior motive explaining it.
He went with option two.
“Iris…”
“Yeah?”
“What’s going on?”
Sometimes she really hated how he saw right through her. In an effort to dissuade him and approach the issue on her own terms, she lunged forward, clasped her hands around his face, and pulled him down to kiss him.
He reciprocated at first, drinking her in, starved for her it seemed like. She felt electricity spark up and down her spine and wondered if they’d gone into Flashtime, or if the speed force was getting just as excited as the two of them.
But then Barry pulled back, panting.
“What?” she asked, frowning. “What’s wrong? Don’t you want to kiss me?”
He leaned his forehead against hers and tried to regain his breath.
“Of course I want to kiss you. It’s been so long, since…” He glanced down at her attire and recalled that he’d been the one to put it there. “Nice pajamas.”
Her lips thinned. “You would know.”
He pulled back entirely but couldn’t make his hands leave hers. He needed to touch her. After so long they’d kissed. They’d held each other. They were so close to regaining ground. He couldn’t lose it completely now.
“Barry…”
He lifted his head to look into her eyes.
“Do you think I’m mad at you?”
He gulped.
“No…” She raised an eyebrow. “Yes…I don’t know.” He shook his head.
“Oh, baby.” She tugged him closer again and pressed their foreheads together once more. “I think we need to talk. Really talk.”
He groaned but not in displeasure.
“I would really love that.”
“Yeah?” she asked, no flirting this time, just sincerity.
He nodded. “I’ve been going out of my mind, Iris. Up all hours of the night, running all hours of the day. Blaming myself for anything that could make you sad or upset. If it’s right for me to do that, I need to know. If it’s not-”
“It’s not,” she said.
“No?”
She shook her head.
“But I’m still confused myself, so I think I better just…” She sighed. “…tell you how I feel.”
He pressed a kiss to the side of her face and intertwined their fingers, leading her to the nearest couch.
When they were both settled, Barry took a breath and prompted her.
“Okay. Tell me.”
 ...
*will be posted on AO3 and FFnet when beta’d.
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Text
Good Together
Bucky x Reader
Words: ~ 9,300 (sorry!)
Summary: You and Bucky have a very tumultuous relationship -- but you’re good together.
Warnings: Smut!! Angst maybe.
A/N: Inspired by “Good Together” by SHY Martin. This is my first time writing smut, so please let me know what you think and I’m so sorry if this is terrible!! Just let me knoowwww also sorry for making it so long!
...
I've been working on myself and on my patience But sometimes that shit don't come easy And I see you've been tryin' your best to give me explanations But words don't really cut it lately
“Buck, would you just listen to me,” you spat, emphasizing the last three words, shaking your hands in significance. He continued calmly putting the dishes away; you knew it was a façade: his relaxed shoulders, plain face, raised eyebrows – all a ruse to make him look like a victim. “Turn around.”
He spun quickly on his heel, still holding the clean plate in his hand, facing you with a strong tone of expectation: expectation that you had something really fucking good to say if you had to interrupt him putting the dishes away, especially since you ask him every day to help out with the chores. “Yes, dear?”
You rolled your eyes almost immediately as the term of less-than-endearment slipped off his tongue. “Listen to what I’m saying – ”
“I can multitask, (Y/N), thank you very much.” He continues on his merry way unloading the dishwasher, turning his back to you once again.
You shut your eyes and took a deep breath. An inhale and exhale through your mouth; so quiet yet you’re sure he heard you. Focus, you thought to yourself, shutting your eyes and finding your peace. He wants you to snap. You took another deep breath, craning your neck in a circle, listening as the top of your vertebrae cracks with a loud pop! “All I’m saying,” you begin smoothly, “is that you need to stop acting like a baby.”
He scoffs, eyebrows raising in doubt. “What part of this is being a baby, (Y/N); enlighten me.” Patronizing fuck.
You swore that talking to him took more patience than raising a puppy – hell, at least the puppy would learn to listen to you. “You’re always like acting like the victim; such a martyr. I try to bring up one thing with you – have an adult discussion – and suddenly you act like it’s all my fault and that I’m crazy? Like I’m the bad guy here.”
You can feel him roll his eyes through the back of his head. He shrugs. “Look, (Y/N), all I was saying was that you were bitchin’ over nothin’ – all I did was apologize.”
You actually laughed arrogantly, reminding him what he stated earlier, laying the sarcasm on as heavily as he did: “oh, I’m so sorry, (Y/N). Sorry that I have eyes and like to use them to look around.” You narrowed your eyes at him, finally gaining his full attention as he fisted the cutlery. “Sorry, how does having eyes justify you eye-fucking the girl behind me?”
“I wasn’t even staring – ”
And you snapped. In his defense, you maybe sounded a little shrill when you flipped out at him; your voice did, in fact, raise about twelve octaves. “You were literally undressing her with your eyes, James.” You threw up your hands in the air, exaggerating a groan as your head dropped back. “You probably have x-ray vision, don’t you?” You accused, almost jokingly. But as he narrowed his eyes as he hesitated to say something back, searching his mind for the proper response – but you were too fast. “You fucking do, don’t you, you piece of shit. Of course – ”
The sound of shattering glass cut you off immediately. You opened your eyes and straightened your stance to be faced with Bucky, butter knife in his hand, and a plate, split perfectly in half, sitting on the counter beside him. His blue eyes were squeezed tight in control, his flesh hand gripping the knife so hard that his knuckles had gone white. You stared at the porcelain dinner plate, feignedly wondering if that’s what he wanted to do to you.
Deep down, you knew he would never lay a hand on you; he always insisted on throwing or breaking something when he became so frustrated with his anger – with you. He’d gone so far as to throw a lamp at the wall (in the opposite direction of you, of course); thus, showing his intention to release his anger and not an intention to hurt you. The two of you had been working on different ways to channel his anger; however, as he stated: he was used to a life of destruction, so that’s how he vented. He found that it got the job done: it got you to shut the fuck up.
“I don’t have x-ray vision, don’t be a child about it.” His voice was surprisingly calm, especially considering how he still hadn’t put the knife down. “I wasn’t even starting. I glanced at her – in her direction.”
This wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation, though. That’s the issue that he didn’t comprehend. You let out a sigh, speaking calmer than you had all night. “Bucky, I’m just sick of having this same conversation, please,” you pleaded, taking a step closer. He remained silent and still, eyeing you as you approached him. “I feel like I’m not asking for much.” Stop staring at other girls while you’re on a date with me: not much. It was not only infuriating, it was embarrassing.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting the knife on the counter beside the pieces of plate, turning his head down. “I didn’t mean to be doing it. I just get distracted.” His voice was quiet, almost child-like as it rose in inflection.
You were torn. You could believe what he was saying, hoping that this time he’d actually be telling the truth: you knew he had a short attention span, and he did have a tendency to space out a lot. But you were caught between believing that and the fact he had spaced out in the direction of a girl with a significantly low-cut blouse. These other times, he liked to play the victim-card, blaming his less-than-appealing tendencies on his poorer qualities that, technically, nobody could refute him having.
You’d learned to read through his words, though. And this time, it was the latter.
Remember when our love was precious We thought what we had was the best, yeah Now every answer's a question Like every night is one of us is getting aggressive The other one's acting possessive Guess it's the way that we do shit now
Your fights had grown frequent.
Your relationship had grown volatile.
Not that it wasn’t based on your tumultuous roots – but it had just gotten so much worse lately.
This relationship started off fairly normal, however, the cherished affair the two of you shared quickly became tainted through the media. Countless news outlets had gotten word of the coupling instantaneously, leaving the two of you swamped with paparazzi and yelling passerby’s every time either of you left your houses. It was quite the shock that James Buchanan Barnes had a girlfriend – a regular girlfriend, too; a non-Avenger. People were quick to sell you out, too. Close friends and even some family selling information about your relationship (and even just material about you) to make a quick buck.
It had gotten the best of the both of you early on. Bucky was tired of being constantly followed and photographed. He was a man who had grown used to solitude and, while he was slowly but surely adapting to twenty-first century life and everything that came along with that, all of the flashing lights and constant yelling made him want to climb into a hole and live in the dark forever.
You, similarly, were extremely unaccustomed to this. Suddenly, you were on the cover of magazines, reading articles about yourself in People & Us magazines, scrolling through stories of yourself on Snapchat. Old friends, people from college, even some work colleagues sold stories about you to the tabloids. Maybe some of the resentment that you held towards them reflected upon Bucky. You didn’t think about it often, but maybe there was a correlation – an unfair correlation, obviously. Your hatred on the outside world didn’t equate to hatred towards Bucky, but you still aimed it towards him quite a bit.
Bucky, never slow to defend himself, returned said animosity right back at you. The two of you picked each other apart until you were both bloody and raw.
Tonight was no different.
The entire evening, meant to be romantic, turned into a fight. You both intended for event at Stark Industries to be uneventful: a night of mingling with friends, reminiscing in old stories, and drinking expensive champagne. It started off halfway decent, that is, until you started meeting more of the people that worked at the Tower.
You had no problem hanging out with the rest of the Avengers – especially Sam, who you bonded with through teasing Bucky (nothing but love, of course), but when it came to meeting a couple other supporting agents, you were a little out of you element.
Take, for example, Agent Toller, who came up to you and Bucky early on, greeting him kindly with a hug and introducing herself to you with a handshake.  “Nice to meet you, (Y/N)! Bucky’s told me so much about you!” You smiled genuinely at her statement, responding and continuing the conversation. It, of course, came to a point where she slung her arm around his and stated matter-of-factly: “You better keep him locked up. I know a lot of ladies wanting to get their hands on him.”
Your lungs deflated. Including herself, apparently. “I’ll do my best,” you reply through gritted teeth.
Then there was Agent Rivers, who straight off the bat ignored you. She came up to Bucky telling him she finally mastered the thigh-grip, a move, she later clarified, made notorious through Black Widow. “All that time in the gym finally paid off, huh,” Bucky teased.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” she beamed back, touching a hand to his arm.
He rolled his eyes playfully, chuckling. “Please, just playing the dummy – as usual.”
She merrily smacked his arm, grinning. “Don’t say that, Buck.”
You stood next to Bucky, staring up at the man blankly. Rivers trotted off once she caught wind of you glaring at Bucky. Plucking another glass of champagne from the passing server, you took a long sip, finally asking: “So, Buck, what would be your part in her mastering this thigh grip?” It was a bit condescending, a little irked, and extremely sarcastic. The image of her perfect legs around your boyfriends neck did not sit right with you.
Was he more of a flirt than you remembered? It had been ages since he’s properly flirted with you. It was nothing to get angsty about; its not like you had anything to truly worry about. He came home every evening, spent the night in your bed with you; save for when he went on missions, but surely, he wasn’t accompanied by any women you had to worry about, at least – Natasha and Wanda had your full confidence. But it wasn’t the women that bothered you; you shouldn’t have to worry about Bucky. No matter how many beautiful, strong, talented women flirted with him, he should shut them down – not flirt back literally in front of you.
A few more introductions played out exactly like that, so a few more glasses of champagne were necessary for you to get through the evening. At one point you actually started having a good time. You’d left Bucky to chat with the boys while you found sanctuary in your girlfriends off to the side. You were able to air out your grievances, confidential information falling onto open ears. They took your mind off it by bringing up their own drama, in which you all openly made jokes and critiques, the liquor now fully streaming through all of your bloodstreams.
Once the party started to clear out and even some of the Avengers began to leave, Bucky swooped by your pow-wow and wrapped his arm around your waist, whispering a quiet “ready to go?” in your ear. You and Bucky walked out with Sam and his girlfriend, chatting casually.
As you expected, as soon as the pair spilt off from you two, everything fell silent. Not the good silent: the silence that swirled around you two as your gazed at stars together, the silence as you laid napping in each other’s arms on the couch, the silence that comforted him after a nightmare, accompanied by your fingers curling through his hair. No; this was the silence filled with tension; it was the kind of silence that you’d rather die than have to ride home in the car with him not talking to you.
You bit your lip when you brought it up.
He actually laughed, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting loosely on his lap. He turned his head to you momentarily, a glint in his eye as his smile mocked you. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“They’re all throwing themselves at you!” You clarify, exasperated, throwing your hands in your lap, turning towards him underneath your seatbelt.
“I can’t help that, can I?” He shrugged it off, turning back to the road, reclining farther in his seat, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling. Smug bastard.
“Yes, James. It’s called personal space and we all have it.” You spoke slowly, enunciating each work clearly. “It would really kill you to tell these girls to stop touching you?” He pulled into a parking spot in front of your apartment and got out of the car without even letting you finish. You followed suit, trialing him up the few steps to the front door. “Every single woman you talked to had her hands all over you.”
He shoves the door open, leaving it wide open for you. “I wasn’t touching them, was I?” He ran his hands through his hair, pulling it back. He groaned and pulled at the tips, acting as if any sort of physical torture would be more preferable to this conversation. “No, my hand was on you the whole entire time, (Y/N). It’s not an issue.”
You slammed the door, crossing your arms over your chest. “Really?” You questioned, tone and volume raising significantly. “So, you don’t care about them touching you in front of your girlfriend? It’s not an issue? Forget it just pissing me off – you don’t think that was fucking embarrassing for me?”
He shrugged earnestly, raising his eyebrows and pursing his lips.
Taking a page out of his book, you pick up the closest thing in arms-length: the half-empty wine bottle you’d left on the table from earlier. You don’t intentionally aim for Bucky, but maybe you weren’t seeing as clearly as you thought you were. It narrowly swipes past him as you drive it into the wall, only marginally missing him because he took a step sideways. His eyes are wide momentarily, turning his head from the large red splotch dripping down the white wall back to focus on you. Instantly, his posture changes: he’s standing upright, more alert – no longer seeing you as annoying instead of nonthreatening; his chest puffs out, his eyebrows knit together, lips pressed into a firm line as he glowers at you. “What. The. Fuck.” His teeth are barred, the words coming out bitterly.
“Oh,” you scoffed, unable to hide the smirk forming on your lips. “You don’t like it when I do it to you?” If you were in his position, you’d want to slap yourself. You were only taunting the beast, speaking to him in such a patronizing tone. You couldn’t help yourself, though; it was finally a taste of his own medicine: to be treated like a child. You bit your lip, trying to smother the smile pulling your lips as you watched with half-lidded eyes as he strutted towards you.
“You don’t fucking talk to me like that.”
You raised your eyebrows in challenge. “Says who?”
He stares down at you, another stride forward, consuming all the space left between the both of you. Taking one more step, he backs you into the wall. Your shoulder blades make contact with the cold plaster. “I do.” His voice was rough, about six octaves lower than usual, volume barely above a whisper, yet so much anger in his tone. You laugh, breathing out, sneering at him. “You better wipe that smile off those pretty little lips.” His voice did not waver; there was no inflection nor cadence of amusement.
Your smirk does not faulter. “Make me.” His metal hand snakes around the base of your throat, squeezing the sides of your neck. He watches in amusement as your smile quickly drops into an open mouth, gasping as you struggle to take in a sharp breath in shock.
His hips press into yours, hip bones jamming into each other’s. His breath tickles the shell of your ear as he leans in closer to you, chest against chest. “Not so funny now, is it, baby?”
You and me we never say we're sorry Hands around my body Fucking 'til we're good Fucking 'til we're good And we promise we'll do better Both go down together Fucking 'til we're good
You stare up at him under your eyelashes and focus all your energy on inhaling and exhaling through your nose – this wasn’t your first rodeo.
He watches you, jaw tense, flexing at the sharp contour under his ears. You feel his angered breath as it warms the air over your nose. He grinds his hips up against yours, just moving ever so slightly, pushing his thigh in between your legs. You narrow your eyes at him, clenching your own jaw and huffing out a sharp breath. Your hands flew up to his metal forearm to have something you could hold onto as your oxygen left your lungs.
He leans in once again to whisper in your ear. “What’s that, baby?” He coos condescendingly. He kisses the spot just under your earlobe, the sensitive skin sending a jolt through your body. He trails a few more kisses under your jaw, just above his hand; each kiss becoming progressively longer and sloppier. He makes his way to your other ear, now pressing his lips right up against the cartilage. “You got more to say to me?” His metal fingers and his left leg. His thigh hitches farther up, you’re now practically sitting on his leg – trying to stabilize yourself on your tiptoes. His fingers squeeze your throat, causing you to shut your eyes as you release the breath from your lungs with a whine. He hums in response – you can feel his smile pressing into your skin. “That’s what I thought.”
Your eyes open at the sudden loss of contact as his grip loosens and he shifts back in front of you, face-to-face. He stares at you through the dark strands of hair that had fallen loose in front of his face, his eyes dark and clouded over with lust. You imagine you looked the same way, completely disheveled, staring up at him with nothing but desire. Your legs clench around his thigh, pulling yourself farther down onto his muscle-bound leg.
Bucky leans down, slowly diving in for the kiss.
But he stops too soon, his bottom lip just brushing yours. You try to meet him halfway, struggling against the sturdy grip on your throat. You can’t help but groan, eyebrows pulling together in need as he beams down at your joyfully. “You wanna tell me what you need, baby?”
“Touch me,” you whine, hips now moving ever so slightly against his thigh. You couldn’t move much, considering you were barely balanced on there, but you could manage.
“Touch you?” He questioned, quickly swooping forward, pressing his lips to yours chastely. As soon as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss, he tore himself far enough from your lips to speak in a hushed tone: “Touch you like those girls were touching me?”
Fuck. Immediately without thinking, you release his forearm where your hands previously rested, pushing back on his chest as hard as you absolutely could. He stumbled back a couple steps, completely taken off guard. God, you were so hot when you were aggressive like that. He loved pushing you to your breaking point: to the point where you’d begin to assert yourself towards him. He loved when you stood up to him, reeling in anger, just so he could take charge and show you who was boss.
It was an adrenaline rush for him.
For you, too.
You stood before him, fists clenched in rage, staring at him. He was just barely smirking, eyelids half shut, a hungry look on his face. Ever the challenge, he would conquer you.
You nearly jumped when he pounced, taking him up against you, legs twined around his back, arms locked behind his neck. His tongue was hot on yours, meeting in a seething hot kiss. His hands immediately palmed at your ass underneath your cocktail dress that had now ridden up to pool at your waist.
As he began up the stairs towards the bedroom, you broke the kiss – with a displeased groan from Bucky – and laid a sloppy trail of kisses and licks along his throat and to his ear. You pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the corner of his jaw (his weak spot), touching your tongue to his hot skin, following it with another kiss. His steps stuttered, his knees buckling as he took the next step. He groaned deep somewhere in the back of his throat, pinching your ass, a quick slap ensuing afterwards as he regained his footing and kicked open the bedroom door.
He tossed you on the bed, wasting no time in grabbing the back collar of his shirt, pulling it over his head and onto the floor in one swift motion, completely disregarding the row of buttons sewed along the front. You took the hint, shimmying off your tight dress while laying on the mattress. He followed suit with his pants and underwear off next. As soon as the cool bedroom air hit his body, he was throwing himself on top of you, pulling your dress off the rest of the way and unhooking your bra. He discarded your underwear next, pitching it over his shoulder, fingers immediately finding your pussy and sinking in.
He took you by surprise, eyes squeezing shut and knees involuntarily closing together. Bucky used his hand to hold one leg down, prying them apart completely. He looked between his hand – his fingers pushing in and out of you completely soaked – and your face – eyebrows knitted together and mouth hanging open. He didn’t know which view he liked better. “Shit, baby, you been this wet the whole time?”
That was the thing about Bucky – he was a talker. If he wasn’t egging you on, then he was filling the room with his vulgar commentary and dirty talk. He added another finger, pumping in and out of you faster, obscene sounds blocking out anything and everything he said. He moved his metal hand from your knee to your clit, rubbing in slow circles, contrasting to his other movements. His metal hand was great – sensitive, temperature resistant; better than his flesh hand – but, god, there was something about feeling your wet cunt on his own skin drove him crazy.
You gasped, quickly biting your lip in anticipation of your orgasm. “Oh yeah, baby? That feel good?” He huffed, thumb whirling on your clit faster. He hunched to lay a kiss on your breast, meeting you hallway sitting-up to capture his lips with yours. You released the sheets you’d been clutching, instead opting to fist his hair, pulling his mouth hungrily to yours. As your body throbbed and your pussy clenched around his fingers, you moan into his mouth, falling back onto the bed.
Bucky sat upright on the bed and watched you as you laid on the bed completely blissed out; hair splayed across the mattress around your head, chest heaving up and down, legs shut – shaking ­– but knees pulled together, arms once pulling taught at his hair now limp on either side of you.
He waited patiently for about forty-five seconds for you to open your eyes. As soon as you did – without enough time for your eyes to even focus on him, he grabbed your waist, flipping you on the bed, gripping your hips to pull you ass to his face. He truly was a face-down ass-up kind of guy. Not that you minded.
You squeaked, burying your face in the sheets as his hand slapped your ass; his palm following to rub away the burning hot sensation it left behind. You felt his tongue drag a long line up from your clit to your tight hole, taking extra note to curl inside your leaking pussy.
Bucky wasted no more time in straightening up and giving his cock a few pumps, smearing his precum all the way down to the base. He grabbed your hip in one hand, guiding his dick to drive into you with the other. He sighed, your soaking wet, tight cunt squeezing him as he pounded into you from behind. He took hold of both your hips, balancing himself on his knees, pulling you backwards on his dick as he rifled his hips forward.
His momentum drove him forward, nearly folding on top of you, your ass pushed dangerously high in the air, tits and face pressed firmly into the mattress, muffling the sounds that escaped you every time the tip of his cock drove into you. His metal hand remained gripping your hipbone, his other palm pressing flat into the curve at the small of your back, pressing your arch deeper and ass further up as your ribcage met the top of the mattress.
He pounded relentlessly into you, the tiniest change in position making your pussy even tighter around him. “Take it,” he growled through gritted teeth. “Take my fucking dick, baby.” You couldn’t help but release a short breathy moan every time his dick brushed against the very edge of your cervix.
Bucky gathered a fistful of your hair in his metal hand, half slipping out, the other half tangled dangerously in between the death grip of his fingers. He hauled you up, causing you to yelp as you tried desperately to push yourself up. He never let go of your hair, instead using it as a vice to keep your back pressed firmly against his sweaty chest, yelping as he did so.
The pain subsided quickly as his other hand found your still sensitive clit, rubbing it with fast, loose circles. You dropped your head, no longer resisting him pulling it back, falling against his shoulder. “That’s my good girl,” he cooed, driving his dick upwards into your wet cunt; the soft pants you made egging him on.
He waited until he could sense your orgasm – feeling your muscles clench, your body stiffen, temperature rise – before he let himself cum, pumping thick ropes of his cum deep into you. His fingers didn’t stop working on your clit – in fact, they moved even faster even harder. You came with a shriek, his hand finally releasing your hair, allowing you to drop forward onto the mattress.
You didn’t move – couldn’t move – but Bucky followed suit, hovering lowly over you, pressing kisses down your spine, reveling in the feeling of his cum dripping out of your pussy around his dick still warm inside of you.
We don't do no, we don't do no conversations We don't talk the way we used to You act like we're all good sometimes, you know I hate it 'Cause it's so obvious it ain't true
“Hey, Buck,” you called from the kitchen as he walked through the front door. He didn’t acknowledge you, didn’t even look in your remote direction. He kicked off his shoes, tossed his keys on the table, and walked directly past you to grab a snack from the fridge. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen,” you mention, watching as he already began devouring the left-over chicken legs from the other day.
You gave him the benefit of the doubt: maybe he had a bad day. You continued chopping the onion, minding your business, silently cursing him out. He can’t even give you a simple hello back? Yes, a bad day makes anyone want to come home and eat a whole meal, but does it really give him the excuse to eat a whole meal right as you’re working on dinner in front of him? If you knew his plan was to eat cold chicken for dinner, you would’ve gone out to eat by yourself instead of making supper for the both of you.
As you started working on mincing the garlic, you mulled over last nights’ events. The two of you had it out, sure, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. You’d fought, made up, even cuddled when you went to sleep. Now today he was going to flat out ignore you with no rhyme or reason. Unless something did happen – something regarding his coworkers? It wouldn’t be impossible, you thought to yourself, bitterly slamming the knife on the cutting board.
“Can you chill with that?” Bucky grumbled, finally looking in your direction, mouth full as he spoke to you in an irritated tone.
“I’m chill,” you mumbled, scraping the contents of the chopping block into the pan, a sizzle filling the silence that now washed over the two of you.
“What’s your problem?” He muttered, mostly to himself, as he took another bite.
“You’re my fucking problem.” You earnestly didn’t mean for him to hear it; if it weren’t for his goddamn super soldier hearing, he wouldn’t have.
He sighed heavily. “What did I do? I’ve been home all of two-minutes.”
You abandoned your pan, turning on your heel to face him. “You’re always ignoring me.”
“What?” He questioned, dropping the container on the counter and raising his hands up. “I can’t enjoy silence anymore? Do you want me to hate every aspect of my life?” He bit his tongue, immediately regretting what he said, but lacking the filter to be able to stop himself. He just wanted for once to be able to have a conversation – actually, he wanted for once to not have to have a conversation – but to have one without arguing would be a gift from god.
You lay the wooden spoon on the island counter between the two of you, the smell of burning onions and garlic now very fragrant in the space between you. “Damn, I wish I knew you hated your life earlier,” you sigh. He rolls his eyes, preparing a refute about how you always seem to blow things out of proportion, but you cut him off before he can open his mouth. “I would’ve left a long time ago.”
He’s the one who was always incapable of talking. One small thing ticks him off and suddenly the only thing he’s capable of doing is shutting himself in a dark room alone. He’s always shutting you out and pushing you away; and all you every try to do is something nice for him – making him dinner, offering an open ear to ramble off some steam – but he always ends up throwing your good deeds back in his face.
Not anymore.
You simply walk out the door. You took your purse, your keys, put on your shoes, and left him standing alone in the kitchen with his chicken.
Maybe it was an overreaction. However, you felt that it was fine based on how he acts like this every day. Was he doing it so you’d fight, and he could just have angry sex with you to make it okay later? Did he genuinely not want to talk to you – ever? If he really hated his life – and you in it – he would surely let you know? Unless this was the actual way he was letting you know? He didn’t call out after you, he just rolled his eyes and let you walk out the door.
Not extremely surprising, but it did hurt your feelings a bit. How could it not? The man you loved for the past two years, put up with this tumultuous relationship for, dealt with his mood swings, waited for him to come back home to you  – all that for him to tell you he hated his life? His life that you entered and made so much better; at least, that’s what you thought.
So, you gave him a day. If silence and peace was what he truly wanted, you’d give it to him. You crashed at your friend’s place that evening, taking that bumpy couch so Bucky would have his time alone.
The only issue is that he didn’t call you the next day. He didn’t call or text.
He was waiting for you to come back to him. Understandable but annoying – aggravating. You (and your friend) hatched out a plan. You waited until he left for work before you returned home, grabbing a few necessities: clothes, toothbrush, the works, and heading back out to her place. There was no doubt that he would know you were gone. This happened twice before. That you became so irritated with him that you left for the night. But you went back the next day, coming home to him lounging on the couch with not a care in the world, hindsight told you that much. You’d simply laid on top of him, his arms snaking around your waist and your face buried in his neck. He waited for you to come back because that’s what he knew you’d do.
This time, you wanted him to reach out. To see if you were okay. To see if you were coming home. You felt like the only one putting in effort and you were so tired. That effort, of course, was shown in the fights the two of you had. You might be able to pin 75% of said arguments on you; but yelling at him was the only way to get through to him. Boy, he loved to fight. You’d honestly never seen him show off such emotion. You brought everything up – the other women all over him, his attitude problems, everything that bothered you. But he never said anything to you. He was so apathetic towards you that he barely spoke to you anymore. He didn’t ask how your day was, he didn’t get jealous when another guy flirted with you, he didn’t even respond to you saying hello – he was completely apathetic.
You waited four days: Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday.
Monday, actually, you called in sick for work. You were caught between sobbing to your friend about how much Bucky didn’t care about you and wanting to show up to the Avengers Tower with your fists clenched and a certain red-headed Russian spy to back you up. There was no word from him. He obviously saw some of your things were missing; hell, he probably knew exactly where you were, too. He just didn’t do anything about it.
He obviously didn’t care, so you wouldn’t either.
So good together Maybe I'm crazy Maybe we're crazy No one loves me better Than you, you, you, you
It was clear that you were broken up. Neither of you said anything, but you slowly started to move out of your shared apartment, taking small amounts every day while he was at work until you were fully moved out and into the spare bedroom at your sister’s place on the other side of the city. It made your commute to work a little harder, now having to take two trains and walk a couple blocks; but you learned to appreciate the city, the architecture, the weather. Living with her was great – she was a built-in friend; but it wasn’t living with Bucky.
You were a little heartbroken – maybe more bitter. He just let you go without a fight.
Without a single word.
It was four months of binge-eating, wine-drinking and moping around about Bucky before you had a date. The date itself was fine. The guy was cute enough, funny enough, sweet enough. Your sister convinced you to go out with him again. You almost used him just to take your mind off Bucky. You felt bad about it, but he technically knew you and Bucky dated not long ago.
Everybody knew. It was in the tabloids. They photographed the two of you separately. They connected the dots after they hadn’t seen you and him together for a few weeks. Instead, they only got photos of you or him doing mundane things: you grocery shopping, Bucky going for a run around Central Park; you sitting on the train on your way home from work, Bucky saving the world.
Although you never grew to like having paparazzi take photos of your every step, you’d grown accustomed to it. You never made the front page or headline news, more reserved to as a style-guide or just a few Buzzfeed articles about yourself. Bucky, however, made headlines a lot. You had to speed walk past the newspaper and magazine stands around the city because you didn’t want to see him: whether he was decked out in armor, fighting bad guys, or simply smiling alongside Steve and Sam as they enjoyed one rare night out – you didn’t want to know about any of it.
You continued to see Oliver, almost seriously now, but trying to see past the whole using-him-as-a-rebound mentality. You’d gone on a few more dates, and, before you knew it, he had officially asked you to be his girlfriend. He was awkward in a cute sort of way – couldn’t be more of the polar opposite of Bucky.
Bucky had a demanding, intimidating presence; Oliver stood lanky and slender. Bucky was every bit of tall-dark-and-handsome; Oliver was fair and pale. Bucky’s attitude read toxic, masculine, and provocative; Oliver read like a nerdy-teenager, meekly quiet.
While there was nothing wrong with Oliver, he just wasn’t Bucky.
There was another aspect in which Oliver didn’t hold a candle to Bucky.
In. The. Bedroom.
You may not have been in love with Oliver, but, damn, after six months a bitch gets horny. It was fine at first, you were going to throw a dog a bone and not judge him too much the first round. After all, he was genuinely nice and seemed to care about you a lot, so you weren’t about to crush his heart just because he couldn’t make you cum the first time.
You’d grown to a certain level of intimacy with Bucky. One minute you could be making love – softly, sensually; the next minute he could be choking you and fucking you senseless. A long time was spent building the light affection between the two of you, before either of you even got comfortable with the toxicity and animosity that surrounded you – that egged you on, riling each other up until it was too much and you’d just explode. And maybe that was your problem. Each of you had too much pride and hidden hostility that it engulfed you. You’d lost touch with your younger selves. That became your downfall.
You tried not to think about it too much. Especially when you were in Oliver’s bed and he was kissing your neck. Exactly the position you were in at that exact moment.
His lips were sucking a hickey on your neck as he fucked you slowly. You laid flat on the bed, his elbows bent on either side of your ribcage, head tucked under your jaw. “You like that?” He whispered, dragging his hand down your stomach, fingers desperately trying to find your clit.
You laid there like a dead fish. There was no way you were going to be able to stand this for any longer. You stopped him, pressing a hand to his chest and pushing him off your body. “Let’s switch,” you suggested.
He laid down in your place, allowing you to hop on, reverse cowgirl, fucking yourself the way you wanted.
Bucky liked it when you did that. And you liked the way that Bucky would’ve let you use his dick to get yourself off, smacking your ass along the way, spurring you on. “Fuck, I love it when you ride me like this, baby,” he’d groan, snapping his hips up to match yours.
Oliver stayed quiet, breathing heavily as he watched your perky ass bounce up and down in front of him. You were just getting into rhythm when he began to groan behind you. No, no, no, please. One more minute, you begged, cadence not faltering. Before long – before you came­ – Oliver finished, leaving you with no other choice than to lay on the bed beside him. He pressed a breathless kiss to your lips. “That was amazing,” he mumbled against your lips. “Did you cum?”
Yeah fucking right. You kissed him again, humming in neither confirmation nor opposition. He got up and shimmied to the bathroom to dispose of the used condom. You shut your eyes and nearly face-palmed yourself.
God, Bucky had ruined you.
Ruined your emotions, your life, your perception of love.
Ruined you for any other man.
So, laying in Oliver’s bed, unsatisfied, you couldn’t help but think about how much you’d want to off yourself if Bucky slept with someone else – especially Toller or Rivers. You were broken up. It had been months – nearly a year. Hell, even you were technically sleeping with someone else.
But just the thought of him treating someone else the way he did you – pulling her hair, fucking her, eating her out, making her scream his name like it was the only word she knew – it devastated you.
You promise yourself not to ask and never to find out.
If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? If it isn't love, tell me why do we feel so good? If it isn't love, tell me why do we hurt so good together? So good together
You broke up with Oliver that night. It was better for everyone.
You felt it best to take this time to focus on yourself. Hell, you spent your whole past relationship focusing on Bucky, you spent all of your time with Oliver focusing on how he wasn’t Bucky.
This was about you. It was about your career, your health, your sanity.
Your broken heart.
No matter how hard you threw yourself into your work, how much you worked out, how much you refined your cooking, how many self-help books you read – you felt empty.
You got promoted at work, you built your confidence up, your pallet refined, you loved yourself more than you ever had – something was still missing.
And that’s how you ended up with your phone ringing against your ear, Bucky sitting silently on the other end.
He agreed to meet you. As you walked up the stairs from the subways station, your heartstrings tightened as you walked around your old neighborhood. It had been a year since you’d really been back here; you’d passed through occasionally, but never wanted to take your time travelling down the streets, as it was too painful. There were too many memories of you and Bucky walking hand-in-hand down these streets.
You strolled down your old block, stopping in front of your old apartment. Books and plants cluttered the front windowsill, CDs stacked along the side, bright lights shining across the windowpane, a shadow cast over the glass.
Of course Bucky sold the place. You left. He had no reason to keep it. He had a place at the Tower. He had people there. He had a life there.
You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing the collar of your coat higher around your neck, shielding yourself from the cold New York winter evening. You turned the corner at the end of the block, seeking shelter in the coffee shop. Bucky agreed to meet you here; it was neutral ground for the both of you. You’d had plenty of dates there, Sundays spent catching up on work and getting coffee. There were no bad memories here, no fights, no fowl words, no animosity. Only hand holding, hot coffee, and shy smiles passed from over the small tables.
You pulled open the door to the shop, sighing in relief as the warm air hit your cheeks. You stopped suddenly in your tracks, breath hitching in the back of your throat.
There he sat, fifteen minutes earlier than you planned, wrapped in that navy-blue sweater you loved – you loved to wear – waiting for you. You couldn’t feel your legs. You couldn’t take a step forward.
You barely recognized him. Obviously, you’d never miss him. He just looked so different. His hair was cut – short. He was clean shaven. He was a completely different man.
He stared you up and down. You looked good, he could tell even with your thick winter jacket and tall boots. He missed your face, your eyes, your lips, your hair, your smell – everything. He waited for you to walk over to the table; it took about two more minutes of you staring at him before you even made your first step closer.
You finally took a seat at the opposite side of his table, a large latte already waiting for you. Your hands were shaking as your held it against the porcelain cup. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. His handsome blue eyes. His chestnut locks brushed back nearly away from his face, showing off his chiseled cheekbones and jawline. You loved his long hair, you loved grabbing it, you loved the way it hung in his eyes, contrasting his blue eyes; it made him look so edgy. But this Bucky. Ladies’ man, charming, mesmerizing. You’d only seen pictures of Bucky like this, but you couldn’t believe how alluring he actually looked in real life.
Bucky with long hair would fuck you raw until you screamed yourself raw – Bucky with short hair would smile while doing it.
“Hey,” you whispered, voice failing you as you dropped your eyes to your latte.
You saw him nod at you from under your eyelashes. He lifted his own coffee to his mouth, taking a long sip before clearing his throat, gaining his full attention. You bit your bottom lip, staring at him wide-eyed. “So…” he began softly, giving you a half smile. “You’re the one that called me here.”
You stared blankly at him. He was right. It had been over a year and you’d called him up. Why? The answer escaped even your own mind. You didn’t know what compelled you to call him or what your plan was going to be once you actually sat down in front of him. “I guess…” you sighed loudly, dropping your eyes again. “I – I was wondering…” You lost your voice again.
“Why I never called?” He finished for you. He looked sad, once you finally gained the courage to raise your head again. He stared blankly at you, very matter-of-factly. You nodded, not trusting your own voice. He confirmed your nod with one of his own, taking another sip of his coffee. “I didn’t think I should drag you down anymore.”
You rolled your eyes. Just like old times. “Stop playing the victim, James. That’s why I walked.” You took the first sip of your latte, cooled now after it had been sitting out.
He narrowed his eyes at you, but you were right. Just like old times. He shrugged casually, trying to keep his cards close to his chest. “I just thought you’d be better off without me.” He stops himself from reaching across the table and taking your hand. “And that’s being honest.”
You nodded, processing his words. “We weren’t good for each other, huh,” you muttered over the rim of your glass.
“It was kind of toxic,” he admitted, a nervous chuckle following after. He tugged his knit sleeve farther up his arm, flexing it behind his head and pulling at the tips of his hair at the top of his neck.
“You hair looks nice,” you throw in, filling the silence that had fallen between you.
“Thanks. Just needed a change-up,” he replied, dropping his hand to the tabletop.
You nodded softly. You leaving his life wasn’t enough change? “I just wanted you to want me to come back,” you blurt. That’s the change you were waiting for.
He slowly let out his breath, shifting in his chair. His eyebrows raised at the accusation. “I don’t know how you could think that I didn’t want you back.”
“Buy you didn’t say anything,” you protested, laying your hands on the table, trying to keep your voice calm and steady. “Every time I left – you never tried to call, text – nothing.”
He brought his hand up to his chin, rubbing his jaw firmly. It was his old habit dying hard; back when he had a beard, he used to scratch at it all the time, you used to run your fingers against it, used to revel in the feeling of it brushing roughly against your thighs. “(Y/N),” he sighed. “I didn’t know what I was doing – I was stupid. Look, I thought about what I said to you for days; Every day that you’ve been done, actually. I treated you like shit.”
“Well,” you interjected. “It goes both ways.”
Neither of you could hold back your smiles. God, you treated each other like shit. But that didn’t stop either of you from loving each other as much as you did. “A little pain with the pleasure,” he mumbled, drinking his coffee. “So, you called me just to ask me that?”
You sighed, now your turn to awkwardly scratch the back of your head. “I missed you.”
And that’s how you ended up at the Avenger’s Tower, Bucky throwing you on his bed. He laid on top of you, bringing his lips to yours. You fisted at his sweater, trying to tug it off of him, Bucky breaking off the kiss just to pull it off his back, his lips finding yours once again. You kicked off your boots as Bucky unbuttoned your jeans, making quick work pulling them off your legs. You sweater followed suit, lifting your torso off the bed so he could peel it off you. As soon as your skin was exposed, Bucky’s lips attached to your warm flesh.
He trailed his tongue and wet lips against your collarbone, trailing it down your chest, then between the valley of your breasts. He quickly pulled off your bra, throwing it on the ground beside the bed. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking softly, flicking the tip of his tongue over your nipple. He continued downwards, kissing the underside of your breast and down your ribcage.
Your breath hitched as his tongue dragged across your warm slit; he let out a low moan, reveling in the taste he’d been missing for so long. His hands found your inner thighs, pushing them apart, pinning them to the bed. Your hands slid through his hair, grabbing handfuls of his chestnut locks, short strands slipping through your fingers.
He laid his tongue flat against your slit, pointing the tip to curl between your lips to taste your juice. He circled his tongue gently at your clit, his hand finding your lips, spreading open your pussy and spreading you open with two fingers. He pumped in and out of you slowly, indulging himself in your velvet cunt.
He hummed against your clit, kissing it softly before groaning into your folds. He added a third finger, joining them with his tongue as he stretched you open, licking his fingers clean afterwards. He ate you out with vigor, rapidly fucking you with his tongue and fingers.
As he continued tongue-fucking you, he pulled his fingers out, holding them up to your face. He looked up at your from over your pussy, holding his fingers to your mouth. “You taste so good, baby,” he whispered against your clit.
You opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. You shut your eyes, swirling your tongue around his first two fingers as you sucked of the salty taste. You moaned around his fingers, Bucky’s face burying itself deeper into your pussy. As he sucked your clit, you sighed, dropping your head against the mattress and shutting your eyes tightly. You were surrounded by darkness and a sudden bright light.
He kissed your sensitive clit, kissing up your pubic bone and making his way up to your lips. “I missed your sweet pussy, baby.” You moaned, something about his low voice whispering against your lips, talking about how good you tasted that made you melt.
“Bucky, please,” you whimpered, fingers dragging through his hair, pulling at the ends. “I need you.”
He sighed, staring down at you. You were glowing. Sweat beading along your hairline, eyes glazed over and shining, skin luminous. “I love you, (Y/N),” he whispered, gazing into your eyes in admiration. “And I want you to know that I’m not letting you leave again – ” he pressed a firm kiss to your lips, his tongue running against your bottom lip. You parted your lips to accommodate his tongue, although he pulled away from you. “And I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”
Your heart was heavy as it leaped into the back of your throat. Your breathing shallowed – and it wasn’t because of Bucky’s bodyweight laying on your chest. You blinked the tears away from your eyes, willing for them to not fall in this exact moment. “I love you, James.”
After two chaste kisses to your lips, he buried his head in the crook of you neck, lining up his cock with your entrance. As he pushed into you, he sighed against your collarbone, his hot breath tickling your skin. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He bit into your shoulder, you eyes rolling to the back of your head as he bottomed out inside of you.
You hadn’t been stretched like this in so long. You felt like you could be torn in two as he impaled you. It hurt in all the best ways.
You gasped as he pulled out of you, quickly shoving back in – he bit his lip, nearly cumming in that exact moment. You were so tight, so wet. Nobody could fuck you like this – nobody could make love to you like this.
He took hold of your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, calves resting against his collarbones. He took a hold of your upper thigh with one hand, intertwining his fingers with yours in his other hand, pressing it into the mattress. He angled his hips directly on top of yours, pounding straight on top of you. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the hot, steamy room, your sounds muffled by Bucky as he swallowed your moans.
He kissed you sloppily, his cock pulsating in your pussy, you writing underneath him – it was driving him crazy. It had been over a year since he had you under him: a squirming mess. You almost had to push him off of you – out of you – it was nearly too much. His wet lips on yours, his hot breath on your skin, his words whispered in your ear, you overly sensitive clit. This is what you’d been missing: all the pleasure that made the pain so worth it. The endless fights, the ruthless words, the meaningless fights.
Unbeknownst to either of you, it was the moment in which you both came simultaneously, in which you both silently promised each other to love each other forever – to never make the other hurt that badly again.
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