#oh well. still better than having another mood swing that takes me off the worse end of the spectrum (hypomania) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

acollectionofficsandshit · 2 years

Text

Three of Us: Chapter 8

Max Verstappen x Reader (Single Dad AU)

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7

Chapters: 8/?

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 5,284 Words

Masterlist

I’d like to thank @lightsovermonaco for being my beta and for more importantly keeping me sane because without her influence it’s anyone’s guess where I’d be. I also owe @sassybatflowerpaper an enormous thank you, not only for being my friend but because this story, at it’s very core, is our love child.

Tuesday, October 2nd, 2018- The Monte Carlo Quarter, Monaco

Jimmy’z Monte-Carlo

Upon later reflection, it likely would have been better for you to have remembered yourself, to have thought first about the setting and the situation, about the witnesses to the crime but you hadn’t- you’d simply turned around and swung.

Max, to his credit, hadn’t hesitated, he hadn’t flinched, he hadn’t even tried to defend himself.

No, he’d taken it, as the guilty party always should, but rarely does.

Perhaps that should have been enough, should have given you pause, or prompted you to think the matter through once again, but you hadn’t. The conviction had been carried out, Max had been charged, and this, this was merely your part in it all, carrying out the sentence he’d rightfully been handed down.

That was not to say there was only one guilty party, there’s no doubt in your mind that to some degree, Cassandra is as much to blame for what has just happened as Max is but, that being said, you don’t have enough evidence for any of that at present so for now, you focus on the primary party at fault.

Things would have gone from bad to worse if Dan hadn’t shown up as quickly as he had, appearing out of thin air like it was nothing, like he’d been conjured into being by the chaos of conflict, drawn to the exact point in the very midst of the crowded dance floor in the blink of an eye, pulling you off Max before you have a chance to take another swing.

“Oh, for the love of God,” he mutters to himself, shaking his head disbelief, his voice dripping with disapproval as he pushes Cassandra aside, wrapping both arms around you from behind and hauling you backwards, keeping you pinned tightly to his chest, immobilizing your upper body and preventing you from doing any further damage, “can’t leave the two of you alone for a fucking second before everything goes to shit.”

You take a well-aimed kick at Max since your legs are still mostly viable for inflicting injury, a considerable oversight on Daniel’s part, which you waste no time to capitalize on, knowing full well that the window of opportunity is fleeting, lasting only until the Australian catches on to your latest strategy of attack.

“Would you stop that?” He sounds less than amused, the rolling of his eye is audible in his tone, “seriously- cut it out!” Daniel, realizing that you’re in the mood for listening, takes matters into his own hands, setting you down for a split second, just barely long enough to turn you around and toss you over his shoulder, “serves you fucking right.”

“Daniel, fucking put me down!” You demand, pounding on his back with your fists, beyond furious at your present predicament, “I swear to fucking God, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” He snorts, chuckling to himself as he winds his way through the club, eyes set on a back exit, “lose your job? Get banned from Jimmy’z? Kill Max?”

“Fuck you,” you spit at Daniel.

“Didn’t really think it through, huh?” You don’t respond so he simply continues, “you’ll thank me in the morning.”

“I won’t be thanking you for jack shit, you busy body bitch!”

“Believe me, you will,” Daniel doesn’t even bother to put you down before he’s flagging down a taxi, “so, you going to tell me what the hell just happened now or is going to be later?”

“Fuck you,” is the only thing that comes to mind so you go with, electing to ignore the fact that you’ve already used this line.

“Later it is,” he says with a shrug, setting you down and pushing you through the open door of the cab that had wasted no time in coming to a sudden stop at the curb in front of the pair of you, sending you tumbling unceremoniously forward into the backseat without further ado.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” You demand as Daniel follows you into the car, ignoring all together for the time it takes for him to close the door behind himself and give the driver the address for the apartment building, fully aware of how outraged you are at the moment and clearly, under no rush to get around to having to deal with it.

“Because you had it coming,” he answers dismissively, rolling his eyes as he speaks as if that much should have been obvious, “now scoot over or you’ll give me no choice but to just sit on your lap instead.”

“Hey, don’t threaten me with a good time, Ricciardo,” you pat your legs welcomingly, “bring that fat ass of yours right over here.”

“Fuck off,” Daniel leans forward into the car, bodily shoving you into the far seat, “you couldn’t handle all that. No one can.”

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

Daniel had been a complete and utter fucking dumb ass to think that the two of you were ready to handle something like this, to have believed that either one of you was actually, genuinely prepared to interact with the other in such a setting so, for that reason, and that reason alone, he feels he bears a lion’s share of the responsibility for how things have turned out since none of you were at all likely to have ended up here if he hadn’t hatched this harebrained scene in the first place.

He’d just wanted to have fun tonight, to get a break from the back and forth he’s been trapped in the middle of for weeks now, since from what he can tell, the only thing that the pair of you want to do less than admit that you’re in love with each other is to spend a moment longer alone together than is strictly necessary, which has meant that, amongst a number of other things, Daniel can no longer recall the last time he spent more than a couple of minutes on his own, without you or Max there for company.

It’s ridiculous and childish, it’s driving Daniel fucking mad and he’s about ready to just lock the both of you in a room and call it night, since he’s not likely to be of any further help in doing so, not when he’s made virtually no progress at all in weeks but at the same time, he can’t seem to bring himself to leave the pair of you to your own devices.

At first, Daniel had told himself that this was due to a myriad of different reasons, which ranged anywhere from the fact that his niece was caught up in the very thick of it and he, at the very least, owed it to her to try and help her father and you figure this out, to the fact that there was very little that he could do about his proximity.

But that being said he can now, at long last, finally admit it’s all primarily due to one chief cause which has, quite regardless of whether or not Daniel particularly cares for it or not, come to outrank the rest, and is exactly what factor has made his involvement in all this a mandatory requirement rather than an optional one that operates solely under his own discretion.

Because what it comes down to, is that above all else, the reality of the situation is quite a simple matter- Daniel is just a nosy fucking bitch who wouldn’t know how to mind his own business if his life depended upon it.

So, as far as he’s concerned, Daniel has no one but himself to blame for his current, vital role in the rapid escalation of an already treacherous undertaking because if he had merely minded his own business form the get go, if had just simply kept his involvement in the situation to a minimum from the outset, there was no doubt in his mind that he would be at home right now, instead of where he actually is.

At a little past 11 pm on a Thursday night, Daniel is presently sitting in the backseat of a cab, on the way home from the club, with only an extremely distraught, teary-eyed best friend on the verge of a meltdown and a very confused, very concerned taxicab driver for company.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you choke out, dashing away the tears beading along your lash line before they even have the chance to fall, “I’m fine, I’m so fine! I don’t even care about tonight-”

“I know, I know you don’t,” he says soothingly, throwing an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close, “we all need a good cry from time to time,” Daniel makes eye contact with the driver in the rearview mirror and nods his head to him once, hoping the man can read the silent apology written across the planes of his face, “and sometimes, we don’t even know it until we’re already crying.”

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds so fragile, so uncertain and damaged that it takes everything in him not to start demanding answers about what the hell happened on that dance floor, suddenly ravenous to understand exactly what had occurred.

Because even though Daniel knows that his primary interest at the moment should be comforting you, he’s actually finding it to be nearly impossible to keep his mind from drifting, to thoughts of beating Max within an inch of his life late on, whenever his sorry ass comes sulking back home tonight, hopefully without that utter waste of space, more commonly known as Cassandra Dormer-Bancroft, in tow.

“Yeah, baby, of course,” he confirms, nodding his head in confirmation, hoping the gesture will lend legitimacy to his words of comfort, “sometimes you need a good cry, to just cry it out.”

“I don’t want to cry-” you sob out, looking up at Daniel through tear-soaked lashes with a pitiful look on your face as you say it, “all I want right now is- is-” he can’t tell if your words are faltering because you don’t know what it is that you want or because you can hardly bring yourself to admit to it, “I want- him.”

That, that is what nearly breaks Daniel right down along with you but he doesn’t permit it, he shores his defenses back up, forcing himself to focus on the matter at hand, on you, his beloved friend, who needs him more than anything else, more than you ever have before, at this very moment.

“That’s it, let it out,” he says reassuringly, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back, “there’s no shame in that, in wanting him,” Daniel adds, starting to trace wide, soothing circles across your skin, “you’re allowed to want him, you know that don’t you? Whatever happened tonight has no bearing on how you feel right now, and you shouldn’t expect it to, I know that I don’t. Not when so much has happened so fast, there’s hardly been enough time to breathe, let alone process whatever just happened.”

“I don’t- I don’t-,” you hiccup, “understand.”

“I know you don’t, I don’t get it either but he probably knows less than either of us do.”

“I don’t get it; I don’t know what happened- I just want to- to understand-”

You’re teetering dangerously close to letting what little control still remains in your grasp slips free, Daniel can tell from the way you’re holding yourself stiffly against him, your spine still ramrod straight but your shoulders slack, your head bowed, your face shielded from his view behind a hand, the other pressed to your lips, almost as if it’s some sort of subconscious effort to keep whatever it is that you’re about to say from slipping off the tip of your tongue.

“I hate him, I hate him, I hate him, I hate him because… because most of all I don’t hate him at all-”

Not knowing what else to do but desperate to offer you some sort of comfort, to ease the pain he can hear in every tear sodden inhale you take, each breath rattling your chest with the combined effort to suck down fresh air and stave off a fresh round of cries, Daniel opens his arms, knowing it’s not much but hoping it’ll be better than nothing.

When you don’t hesitate, when you take one look at him, pausing just barely long enough to understand what he’s silently offering, before you’re nodding your head in assent, all but flinging yourself into his welcoming embrace.

Where before Daniel had only been able to see and hear how badly you were hurting, he can feel it now, in the lines of your body, in how tightly you cling to him, sobs wracking your body as you battle on, fighting against the tears and the hurt to get whatever it is that you feel must be said out of your head and into the air that surrounds you.

Daniel reckons he can feel it when his heart tears a new, the visceral pain like a fissure cracking his chest clean open, exposing a freshly formed hairline fracture, one which now runs the length of his sternum, splintering bone and splitting sinew, eviscerating what had been in pristine condition just a moment before.

“I still want him, Dan-” the words come out a nearly unintelligible mess of teardrops, snot, and spit, staining the neckline of his shirt upon their hard-won arrival, the fabric of what had prior to the events of tonight had been a fundamental part of his favorite night out on the town ensemble slowly becoming saturated with your sorrow, the expensive weave of the sweater is now so dampen by distraught and despair that it’s impossible to ignore, cold and uncomfortable against his skin.

“I know you do, I can tell you do- I can tell that you both do.”

“Even after all of this, I still want him, I still want Max so badly it fucking hurts but I can’t- I won’t- tonight- if he… if he comes home at all, he won’t be fucking welcome. Locked door- dark house, cold shoulder.”

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

Tuesday, October 2nd, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

Daniel’s Apartment

He’d been half expecting for the locks to have been changed in the time it takes for him to get home, you’d had more than enough time to, considering the fact that he’d walked home from Jimmy’z, because even in his own eyes, Max didn't think he was deserving of the luxury of a ride home and a walk home alone, drunk off his fucking ass, had seemed a deserving end for a night that had been little more than hell on Earth.

When he gets off the elevator and stumbles down the short corridor that leads from the lift to the front door his, ‘our apartment’ he corrects himself, he’s not particularly surprised to find the note hanging from the lacquered wood door, taped just below the peephole, written in the bold, capital letters of an angry, sharpie wielding hand, impossible to miss for even the drunkest of individuals.

IN YOUR FUCKING DREAMS. SLEEP AT DANIEL’S. HE’S EXPECTING YOU.

Max doesn’t bother to fight the present state of affairs, not because he’s impartial or that he just altogether doesn’t care, but because the sanctions that have been put in place against him, to punish him, are entirely warranted, his banishment is well deserved, and he’s trying to better about not challenging what is deserved, both on and off the track.

So, conceding defeat, he turns his back on the front door of the apartment which has, thanks to your and Kaia’s presence in it over the last few weeks, become a home, and goes back the way he’d came. All sense of shame long since abandoned, Max mopes for the entirety of his short journey down to Daniel’s apartment, his head hung low and his shoulders slack, holding a staring contest with the floor beneath his feet.

Not bothering to knock, Max pulls his keys free of his pocket, trying and immediately failing at his ill-fated attempt not to let his eyes linger on the keychain Kaia had proudly given him for his birthday, no doubt designed and ordered by you, which sports a picture of the two of them together after the race at the Italian Grand Prix, him still dressed in his racing suit, sweaty and grinning, and one of the four of them- you, Kaia, Daniel and himself- huddled together after qualifying for the Singapore Grand Prix.

Daniel, who must have been waiting for his imminent arrival, opens the door a matter of seconds after he’d had stopped outside his door, ending Max’s disastrous battle of wills against his keyring as quickly as it had started, and waves him in. His usually bright and cheery demeanor are nowhere to be found, usurped, by a stormy expression and an air of frustrated fury, neither of which the Dutchman felt he could fault the other man for, nor would he say anything in his own defense.

He had already accepted that he wasn’t going to be a particularly popular individual for quite some time to come since there was no doubt in his mind exactly who Daniel and Kaia will be siding with about all of this, which as it turns out, just so happens to be the exact one that Max expects Horner, GP, his mother, as well as his sister will be taking as soon as they are appraised of what went down tonight.

Max doesn’t kid himself; he knows full well that there is no viability to be found for any future in which his best friend and his daughter chose to back him over you, and he doesn’t blame either one of them for it, he doesn’t deserve anyone’s support at the moment, not even his own, let alone theirs’s right now. He deserves whatever he’s got coming to him because

Like that punch from earlier, the one he hadn’t even tried to stop you from taking, Max knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, he deserves what he’s got coming to him, none of which will be particularly pretty or nice but he doesn’t expect it to, nor he doesn’t think that it should be because, in his eyes, even in this case with all its extenuating circumstances and unexplained mitigating factors, the punishment should always fit the crime.

“You’re a proper fucking dickhead,” Daniel snaps at him, likely expecting the anger and the insults to ignite Max’s temper, to insight a shouting match that turns into an all-out brawl, as has happened many a time in the past but won’t happen tonight, not this time, not when he’s already accepted defeat.

“I know,” is all he says by way of a response, conceding to the fact of the matter rather than even trying to fight against it.

“You’re lucky all she got in was a punch- one punch,” Daniel holds up a finger to drive the point home, “before I got her off of you because I have never, not in four fucking years I’ve known her, ever seen her that ticked off before. She would have done some fucking lasting damage if I’d let her, which you would have deserved every second.”

“I know what she’s capable of.”

“Doesn’t really fucking seem like it, mate, since you’re over there playing fast and loose with her emotions! She is not one of your little playthings that you get to fuck and forget, she is not someone to distract you when you get bored and lonely and horny-”

“Daniel, I know-”

“I don’t give a damn what you know- Shut your fucking mouth and listen to what I’m telling you before I lose it with you,” the older man crosses the room in the blink of an eye, his strides eating up the distance that had been, just a moment before, of the utmost, vital importance, as it served to provide the two of them with a degree of separation.

Neither one of them had realized the true importance of until it was gone, until it was no longer there to act as buffer, suddenly incapable of absorbing the conflicting waves of emotions rolling off of both men, leaving the two teammates entirely to their own devices.

“I don’t know what the fuck it was that you pulled tonight and I sure as hell don’t have a single fucking clue why your ex came out of the woodworks but you, you fucking what happened and why so you better start explaining yourself right now because I swear to God, I have never, in my life seen anyone cry like she did tonight.

And Max, let me be the first to tell you, when you’re forced to watch as someone that you care about as much as I care about her, one of your closest friends in the entire world, that you love like I love her, when you are forced to watch them sob like that, like they’ve lost themselves in the pain and all they have left to cling to is to just keep crying, it fucking kills you- it hurts like their hurt is yours, like their heartbreak is your own.

You fucking broke her.

Look, I don’t know the gritty details of whatever the hell it is that’s going on between the two of you, since that seems to change so often that neither one of you even knows for certain, and while I may not ever understand why exactly it was that she reacted the way she did, I want you to know this-

I don’t give a damn if you think her response to all this was unmerited, or unwarranted because no one, and I mean no one breaks down like that, like she did in the backseat of that cab, clinging to me like she was afraid I’d abandon her at any moment-”

The older man pauses here, not to catch his breath or collect his thoughts but because he wants to make one thing very, very clear- he’d seen the way you’d behaved, so certain that at the first opportunity your friend would vanish, leaving you hurting and alone- Daniel knows who is to blame for this newly restored and reinstated behavior.

And accordingly, while glaring at Max with such undiluted, unapologetic enmity held in his face, the steely glint in his teammate’s eyes cutting him right down to the quick, utterly unwavering in his delivery, Daniel makes it abundantly obvious that he will be holding Max wholly responsible for your freshly reinforced fear.

“So, whatever the fuck it is that you’ve done to her, Max, you fix it, and you fix it right fucking now.

Don’t get it confused, I don’t mean that you should go anywhere just now because you will, in no uncertain terms, keep your happy fucking ass right here in my apartment until it’s a decent hour or, by some fucking miracle, you pick up your phone to find that you’ve asked to return to your apartment at her discretion because she wants you there, not because you want to go back there.

Got it? Has any of that made it through that thick fucking skull of yours or do I need to repeat myself? Because I got all night and a whole hell of a lot more to say if necessary.”

“No, believe me, I understood,” Max answers, his voice sounding lifeless and frigid even to his own ears, his words coming out of his mouth hollow and lacking the conviction he aims to pack into each one, the impact of each syllable deadened by the running undercurrent of a glacial, mirthless void of a laugh that he’s helpless to stop, his every step thwarted in spite of his best efforts to the contrary, “I heard you, loud and clear, and I don’t think I could forget any of it, even if I tried to.”

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

Once the topic of conversation had been fully exhausted, Daniel excuses himself to his own bed, not bothering to give Max the usual spiel of the apartment’s layout, about the location of the bathroom or which of the doors along the hallway lead to his room for the night because it would wholly unnecessary to do so considering the fact that Max spent enough time here to know every square inch of the place off the top of his head.

Now wholly alone, in a bed that he’d never slept in a day before in his life, since the guest suite that he’s always taken in the past, the larger of the two bedrooms, has at some point in recent months been taken over by Kaia and the space has been painted a pastel shade of green, stocked with toys and toddler sized furniture, relegating Max to remaining room.

Laying with his arms and his legs flung wide, sprawled out on his back in very center of the mattress, Max stares blankly up at the ceiling, his eyes wide and unseeing, Max wades through the knee-deep, standing waters that fills the inside of his head, where the still rising tide gives him little choice but to keep moving, to keep exploring, to rediscover forgotten memories and faded recollections, all in an effort to keep his head above the surface as the new thoughts and fresh formed revelations flood in, treading water until the rapids return to trickle fed streams.

Max has found himself in the rather unique predicament of being unwelcome in his own home, having managed to quite thoroughly achieve the task of ostracizing himself from the other head of the house in the course of a single evening out, an accomplishment over which he’s more than willing to bet what little of his stake in the household that he still retains that the third and final member of his little family will have sided against him in the wake of last night’s disaster.

Not because you’ve actually done a single thing to influence Kaia’s final decision about which side of the line she’s fall behind, let alone gone to any extraordinary lengths to purposefully, vindictively or malignantly turn the two-year-old against him but because he expects that the toddler will have picked the party she instinctively prefers more often than not- you.

He tries not to let it bother him that frequently, it’s you that she wants, rather than her sole remaining biological parent- a distinction which Max has only recently begun to make in his thoughts, not meant to demean your role in Kaia’s life by acknowledging the difference between the water of the womb and the blood of the covenant, but as a personal reminder that his daughter has three parents who love her, a blessing that she doesn’t even know has been bestowed upon here.

As it so happens is not a position that he’d ever even considered ending up in, a rarity in his life because for the most part, thanks to the combined efforts of his overactive imagination, traumatic childhood and propensity towards being excessively anxious, he’d be hard pressed to find any theoretical situation or feasible circumstance about which that he’s not mentally dissected and dichotomized down to the last, excruciating detail.

Because prior to recent events, Max had been able to count on one hand the number of situations that have fallen outside the purview of his compulsive habit in the entirety of his life but that standard had gone out the window that Saturday afternoon when he’d climbed out of his car after qualifying to find that he’d somehow become a single father in the time it had taken to clench a third-row grid start at Monza.

This current predicament was the fourth such eventuality he’d stumbled upon the two short months since that fateful day, and as such, it likely should have lost the initial sense of surprise that the first three had brought with them because all things considered, Max had more than long enough to adjust to what was his life’s new normal.

And yet, Max still felt just as caught off guard, out of sorts and wholly unprepared in the face of this latest development as he had for each of the three that had come before it.

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

Wednesday, October 3rd, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

Daniel’s Apartment

He barely gets a wink of sleep in the late hours of the previous night, having been left on his own with only the clamoring din of rogue ideas and passing fancies in his mind’s eye for company, only finally falling victim to slumber when the weak, watery grey light that preludes the dawn begins to illuminate the dark sky, the soft glow of daybreak leaking in through the gaps between the curtain panels.

Somewhere around 8 AM, Max finally gives up on trying to fall asleep and stay that way after what has to be the third or the fourth time in as many hours that he’s drifted off only to jolt back into consciousness, his heart racing and his breathing all out of whack.

Electing to write it all off as the result of sleeping in an unfamiliar bed after a night of drink in excess and staying up well beyond any reasonable person’s expectations of an appropriate bedtime, even after factoring in the extenuating circumstances of their birthday celebrations, Max still knows damn fucking well he’s lying to himself, merely placing the blame on the consequences of his actions rather than on the actions themselves.

Since he doesn’t exactly have anything better to do at the moment, Max isn’t above killing time for the next half hour or so, wasting away minutes until it’s closer to an appropriate time to show his face at home by pacing around the guest room, not wanting to venture out into the apartment and risk running into the man himself just yet because if the hangover he’s got at present is anything standard to go by, then the one that Australian will be nursing this morning will be nothing short of fucking lethal.

Max knows from experience that when Daniel is hungover, the best course of action that you can take is to avoid him at all costs because, while under normal circumstances, the older man is more than likely to be the nicest, most genuinely upbeat person that you’ll ever meet in the course of your entire life, when he’s hungover he’ll take your fucking head off for looking at him for too long if you’re not careful.

So, when the clock on the bedside table finally reads 9 am, Max picks his discarded shirt up from where it lays in a rumpled, wrinkled mess at the foot of the bed and pulls it on, nearly gagging at the smell of liquor that clings to the fabric, the scent of some unidentifiable drink that he hadn’t even realized had been spilled on him clashes horrifically with his throbbing head and queasy stomach, threatening to make him start throwing up if he doesn’t get a change of clothes fast.

Unwilling to spend an instant longer in the item of clothing than he strictly has to, Max books it out of the spare bedroom, across Daniel’s living room and through his front door, not wanting to pause longer than it takes for him to mumble an almost unintelligible ‘hello, thank you, goodbye’ to his teammate as he passes him in the hallway on the way to the elevator bay, less the lack of motion afford his body enough time of inactivity an opportunity to revisit violently puking up everything he’d drank last night.

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

To be added to the tag list and notified whenever a new chapter is posted, just respond to this post, send me an ask or message me to let me know!

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

@defnotsobbing, @formularicc, @checkeredflagsandshit, @teenwaywardasgardian, @e16leclerc, @sincerelymendess, @mysticdan, @ohpuckyeah, @embearsxcks, @pg10ln4, @thinemineours, @ggaslyp1, @afraidoflove1997, @tamaraudvardy, @miahelen, @octaviareina, @its-astrotea-love, @e16leclerc, @itsmycorneroftheinternet, @ohpuckyeah, @lharrietg, @judreads, @darkice99, @suckerforspace, @darkdjarin, @hellolipoops, @baddtexter, @empress-ofbloodshed, @burnwithus0, @savannah-elliott, @haterpenny, @sunshinesewis, @earth-to-lottie, @xeniarocks, @blueflame2778, @scottmctominbae, @black-repunzel99, @rosalysaoirse, @ricciaryoyo, @zem-hoe, @ynhya, @formulahan, @juliette123

326 notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

All Mine.

Pairing: Andy Barber x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff, Smut

Warnings: age gap, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, squirting (damn)

Requested: nope

Summary: Andy Barber has been through a lot. After getting a divorce from his ex-wife, he moves into the house next to the Y/L/Ns. And he has his eyes on Y/N since day one. Little does he know, Y/N likes him too and things get interesting one night.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! Before you ask, no, I haven't watched Defending Jacob yet because I do not have the attention span to watch an entire series. So yeah, this has no spoilers. Also, I'm asexual so don't @ me for the smut please and thank you. Enjoy!

---

"Good morning, Mr Barber!"

He looked up from his phone and saw his neighbor smiling at him. He grinned back at her, his mood immediately lightening. "Hi, Y/N! How many times have I told you, call me Andy," he chided gently, keeping his phone away. "Okay, okay, just feels a little weird, ya know? Anyway, what are you doing here? You almost never take the bus," Y/N chuckled.

He flashed her another grin, his boyish side automatically coming out. It always happened when she was near. Y/N Y/L/N was Andy Barber's cute neighbor, but the only thing is, she was way, way younger than he was, her parents were just a couple of years older than him. Despite the huge age-gap, Y/N had won his heart. And he didn't mind in the slightest.

"My car broke down yesterday, it's at the auto repair shop. I got no other vehicle," he shrugged. Y/N nodded just as she saw her bus approaching. "Are you getting on this one?" she asked him and he squinted. "Nah, not this one. Are you?" She verbally confirmed a yes and turned to look at him fully. "I'll see you later, Mr Barber, bye!" With that, she waved at him and stepped into the bus.

"Andy!" he mouthed when she sat near the window seat, giggling. "Andy," she repeated, winking at him just as the bus turned around the corner. A laugh involuntarily escaped his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. Oh, what am I gonna do with you, angel? Inside the bus, Y/N had to keep herself from fidgeting, too overstimulated after her conversation with the handsome lawyer.

She had had a crush on him ever since he had moved in next-door. Her parents had immediately invited the lone man to dinner and he had, thankfully, accepted. They had a lot of fun; Andy was a proper gentleman, well-spoken, intelligent and extremely handsome. Y/N got a crush on him on the first day itself. She knew about the things his family had been through, and the thought crushed her.

Can't even imagine, your own child, guilty of murder?

Andy and his ex-wife, Laurie had divorced immediately after their son's trial. It was all months ago, though, Andy was doing much better now. He had Y/N, after all. In his thoughts only, but that would suffice. Because he knew, she'd never fall for him. Why would she? He was much older than her, a divorced man, with a son who got convicted for murder.

But Y/N didn't care about any of those things. She liked the Andy who was her awesome, good looking and smart neighbor. That's all that mattered to her. But then came another problem, Y/N's parents. Would they be okay with her going out with him? Of course not! Y/N sighed and leaned her head against the window of the bus; oh God, what ever was she gonna do?

Andy had ruined all men for her.

---

"Come in!"

Looking up, a surprised gasp left the mouths of both; the person inside the office and the person at the door. "Y/N?" Andy blurted out. "Mr Barber?" Y/N blinked as well. "Andy," he corrected incessantly and she waved her arm in dismissal. "Wow, I, uh… I didn't realize— you don't have a name plate outside—" He motioned to the chair in front of him and she sat.

"What happened, darling?"

Y/N unconsciously shivered at the nickname. She loved it when he called her that. "I don't know, my colleague sent me here, she was busy… gave me the address and said there was a file she needed…" Y/N spoke unsurely. Her eyes quickly skimmed over his figure; he had taken off the trenchcoat he was wearing in the morning, leaving him in a tight, white shirt, black trousers and a tie hanging loosely around his neck.

The top three buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Y/N concluded that he looked insanely gorgeous. "Does your colleague happen to be Mrs Renoir? She told me she was coming to get the file." She smiled and nodded at him. "Yes, Mrs Renoir, that's her." Andy smiled back and took out a file from his drawer. "Here you go."

She accepted the file, stowing it away in her bag. "I'll see you!" She moved to get up but Andy tutted, checking his watch. "Why don't you stay, Y/N? It's getting late, we can go home together," he spoke, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. She froze for a moment. "Um, it's fine, I can—" He was shaking his head. "Y/N, if something happens to you, I'll not be able to forgive myself."

What's going on? "Mr Barber—" "Andy." "What do you mean?" He got up from his chair and moved to the couch that was in the room. She sat next to him. "You never stay out this late, Y/N, your parents told me you're usually at home by 8:30. It's almost midnight, and I can't let you venture into the city all alone at this hour. Do you know the dangers that lurk at night?"

Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest. Indeed, this was new to her; and before even meeting with him, she had been scared of roaming the city alone at night. "I don't," she muttered truthfully, looking up when Andy placed his hand on her thigh. "It's okay. You can stay, I just need to go over a few more things and then we can go home, hm?" Y/N grinned and nodded.

Andy lifted his hand off her thigh and went back to his desk. He began scribbling something on a paper, which Y/N realized was a form. After admiring him for a few minutes, she took out her phone and scrolled through her messages. She had already texted her mom about staying out late, and her mother had complained until Y/N told her she was out for business, not fun.

As time passed, Y/N's shoulders sagged. Her eyes drooped, heavy with sleep. "Andy," she whined in a sleepy stupor and his head shot up, "Are you done? I wanna go home!" His dark eyes softened instantly and he chuckled. She looked cute when she was sleepy. "Just a moment, darling, I'm almost finished." Y/N simply groaned and threw her head back against the couch.

"All done."

Y/N opened her eyes and saw Andy fixing his appearance, before shrugging on the coat. Then he turned to her, offering her his hand with a smile. She took it and heaved herself up, stumbling a little but Andy was there to hold her up. Effortlessly wrapping an arm around her waist, he guided her out of his office, switching off the lights and locking the door.

Both of them walked out of the building and Andy got Y/N seated in the passenger seat of his car. "I thought your car was at the auto repair shop?" Y/N remembered. She felt his chuckle next to her ear as he reached over and fastened her seatbelt and then his own. "Went to get it in the afternoon because I realized buses aren't for me." She giggled and leaned back against the seat.

"Why don't you try and fall asleep? I'll wake you up," he whispered, his heart swelling in his chest when she nodded meekly. "Goodnight, Mr Barber." He still corrected her, "Andy." Truth be told, Y/N didn't want to call him Andy because that would only make her feelings worse. If she called him Mr Barber… that was a constant reminder that he was a man much older, a successful lawyer, and just her neighbor.

Nothing else.

"Such a sweet doll." Ever since he heard her whining his name in his office, his mind had clouded over with lust. She sounded so fucking beautiful when she said his name. And suddenly, all he wanted to do was to claim her on his couch. He had controlled himself easily, he knew he had to wait till he had her consent. Which he thought he'd probably never get.

---

"Thank you so much, Andy!"

"Oh, it's not a problem at all, Mrs Y/L/N. Y/N is great company and I admit, the house does get a little lonely at times," Andy chuckled as Y/N's mother beamed at him. Y/N was looking down at her feet, clutching the handles of her travel bags. She was going to move in with Andy for a few weeks, since her room was getting renovated. There was no other place in the house.

When Andy heard that, he had instantly offered that she move in with him for the time-being. And Y/N's parents were, surprisingly, ecstatic at the idea. "She can move into the guest bedroom," he had spoken at the time. That's how she ended up here; now following Andy into his house as she yelled her goodbyes to her parents. "Welcome! It isn't much, I hope you like it still."

Y/N looked around in awe. The place was well-kept, the colour theme for almost everything was either beige or brown. It all looked very modern and cool. "Are you kidding? This is awesome!" He chuckled at her enthusiasm. "Let me show you to your room." Both of them walked up the stairs and stopped at the first door. Andy opened the door and another gasp left her lips.

"Wow," she whispered automatically and Andy smiled to himself. "I take it that you like it," he drawled, closing the door behind them as they walked into the room. Y/N kept her luggage on the bed and sat down, swinging her legs. "Thanks for all this, Mr Barber, it's appreciated." He scoffed. "Andy," he rectified, "And it was not a problem at all, Y/N, you're my friend."

A chill ran down her spine. His friend? He considered her to be a friend? "A friend, huh, I'm… I'm honored," she chuckled and he grinned. "I'll leave you be now, get comfortable." He waved at her and left the room, going downstairs to get a glass of water for himself. Y/N spent the rest of the day at her place, only returning at nighttime after dinner.

That's how it went for a week. She'd be at her job most days, would have dinner with her parents at night and then would finally walk into Andy's house to get some sleep. She liked the routine, and so did he. When she wasn't at her job, she'd spend the day in the living room of her own, or rather, her parents' house. Only, something changed a week later.

Andy was running late that day. As he drove home, at nearly 1:30 am, he was sure that he was going to be greeted by a quiet and empty house, Y/N already asleep in her room. She always fell asleep before 11:30, he didn't know how she did it. After parking his car in his garage, he walked into the sitting room only to see Y/N sitting in front of the television. She looked up and swtiched it off when he walked in.

"Mr Barber, hi." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Darling, is everything okay?" he asked worriedly, sitting next to her. The dried tear stains on her cheeks made it clear that she had been crying. "I'm fine," she insisted, in vain. Andy gently cupped her cheeks, running his fingers over the stains. "You've been crying, honey, tell me what happened. I'll make it better," he whispered and Y/N melted against him.

"Um, can I… can I please… can I hug you?"

Without another word, Andy pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around her middle. She snuggled into his side. "I just had a bad dream," she mumbled, burying her face in his chest. His arm rose and he delicately cradled her head, massaging her hair with his fingers. Y/N whimpered at the soothing sensation and Andy's heart raced.

"I'm here now, sweetheart, you have nothing to be worried about. I'll protect you, come what may," he uttered softly, almost in a daze. Something inside Y/N stirred deeply when he said those words. She pulled away slightly and he looked down at her, a questioning look on his face. Y/N blushed under his intense stare. "I, um… can I… kiss you?" Her question made Andy's heart beat faster.

Consent? Check.

Gently grabbing her jaw, he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, pulling her into his lap. Y/N kissed back just as fervently, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Do you know how long I've wanted to do that?" Andy asked huskily upon pulling away. "How long?" Y/N squeaked. "Ever since I first saw you. You won my heart right there, Y/N, right at that dinner. The moment I saw you, I knew that you had ruined all women for me."

"Same. I mean, I— not women, obviously, I'm not attracted to other women— men, but—" Andy chuckled and kissed her again, cutting off her rambling. "God, I need to feel you, love, why don't we go upstairs?" It turned out to be a rhetorical question as he immediately stood up, easily carrying Y/N up the stairs. Y/N wrapped her legs around his torso.

He placed her down on his bed, in his bedroom and settled between her legs, hungrily kissing down her body. He used his tongue to stimulate her first, pulling orgasm after orgasm after her. She had never had these many orgasms in one night and that wasn't lost on Andy. "No one has ever made you feel this good, right, darling? Only I can do it this good." Y/N whined loudly when his tongue circled her bud.

"Bet those nasty boys your age have never made you feel this way. Worshipped. You're mine, Y/N, only mine. Say it." Y/N was too overwhelmed to respond, only a pathetic "yours" leaving her lips as she came again. For the… third? No, fourth time? She definitely lost count. "You're so fucking gorgeous," Andy moaned as he emerged from between her thighs, his jaw and chin covered in her juices.

He had eaten her out so well, like her a hungry man offered a meal after a long starvation. Like she was his last meal. Y/N blushed at the sight of him, covering her face with her hands. Andy easily shoved the hands aside, leaning in to kiss her. "All mine. Beautiful. Mine, only mine," he grunted possessively and Y/N gasped when she felt something poking her thigh. She looked down and saw him. He was giant.

"It's too big," she blurted out and Andy chuckled, giving her a soft kiss on the forehead. "You'll be okay." Grabbing the base of his shaft, he slowly pushed inside of her, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/N winced at the burn on her hips but when he bottomed out inside her, all the pain was replaced by pleasure. "Fuck, so fucking tight," Andy helplessly groaned, leaning forward and resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Please, please move." Andy complied, thrusting into her at a slow pace at first but when he was certain she was able to handle it, he sped up. Y/N moaned right into his ear as he nibbled on her neck, leaving behind dark, red marks. Now everyone will know she's taken. The moan fueled his libido and he sped up more, growling deep in his chest.

Y/N's eyes flew open at the animalistic sound and she gripped his shoulders, trying to steady herself as she moved like a rag doll against him and his powerful thrusts. "Scream my name, darling, tell everyone who's making you feel so good. Tell everyone you belong to me and me only. You're mine, all mine. I'm never letting you go," he snarled as he neared his release. "Andy," Y/N screamed shamelessly.

"That's it, doll. Months, for months I've tried to get you to say my name. Is that why you've been avoiding it? Can't help but imagine being under me and moaning my name every time you heard it?" he groaned brusquely and Y/N jerked, her orgasm hitting her unexpectedly. "Yes," she whimpered at his previous comment but Andy couldn't speak. Holy shit, she just squirted all over my bed.

His taut abdomen, his shaft, his thighs and his bed were all drenched. Y/N was lying on the bed, her eyes closed, convulsing as she reeled in from the first-time experience. "Shit, baby, do you see this? You just squirted all over me," Andy laughed breathlessly, leaning over to press his lips to hers. Y/N cocked an eye open as a blush spread across her cheeks.

"I what?! Oh my God, I'm so sorry—"

Andy entered her core with one swift motion, shutting her up. "That was fucking hot, doll, do it again," he urged and resumed his fast pace. Y/N cried out tiredly, her eyes landing on the clock in the corner of the room. It's been an hour?! How much energy does this man have? "Andy, I'm—" He was already close to his release and when she took his name, he was done. He pulled out of her and spilled his seed all over her chest and face, groaning loudly.

Then he spit on his fingers and brought them to her bud, furiously rubbing until she squirted again, right on his face. "Oh my God," Andy groaned, licking up and swallowing all her juices. "Andy, I'm tired…" She couldn't even lift a finger, that's how spent she was.

Andy was a sight. All wet, from top to bottom, covered in her juices, he looked like he had just stepped out of a swimming pool. "Okay, baby girl, get some sleep. I'll take care of you." And he did, he gently cleaned her up as she dozed off, and carried her to her room. He then hopped into the shower for a quick wash, dried himself up, put on some boxers and went to Y/N's room as well.

The bed in his room was… well, let's just say it was done for. He was going to be throwing the mattress out the next day, he knew that. When he walked into her room, his heart melted at the sight of her deep asleep, still naked, curled up on her side. He shut the door behind him and walked towards the bed, easily sliding in next to her. He pulled the covers on top of them and pulled Y/N into his arms, dropping a kiss to her shoulder.

"I love you, angel. So sweet, only mine."

---

A/N: This is the first time I've posted smut and a non-marvel fic 😳 I know it's probably not that good but thanks for reading anyway! Leave a like if you enjoyed!

#andy barber x reader #andy barber x you #andy barber x y/n #andy barber x female reader #andrew barber #andy barber smut #defending jacob #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans characters #disney #mcu #marvel #avengers #fanfic #writing #writeblr

419 notes · View notes

danses-with-dogmeat · 3 years

Note

romanced hancock reacting to pregnant sole? (obviously not his baby, but a donor's haha)

Hancock x Pregnant! F!Sole Headcannons:

Oh look! I've been enabled yet again! No, but this is great though, I love thinking about happy companions starting a family with Sole ❤

Also, if y'all want any headcannons or anything for companions as parents please hmu, cuz my brain just naturally seems to consider that after doing these pregnancy prompts anyway 😅

Anyway, thanks for the ask, I hope you enjoy!

The ghoul always wondered whether or not his tear ducts would still work after his whole ordeal, and the news that the love of his life was ready and willing to start a family with him would certainly seek to find out. As soon as she gave the word that the donorship had worked, Hancock would be grinning wide and tearfully, with upturned brows and a trembling lip. Unable to speak at first, he would pull an equally tearful Sole into the tightest hug he could muster, their bodies flush, his arms enveloping his love as his roughened cheek pressed insistently against her smooth one. “You just made me the happiest ghoul in the whole damn world, you know that, sunshine?” He’d say just before touching his lips to her cheek in a long, drawn out, tender kiss. (The action may or may not escalate into a long trail of kisses spanning across Sole's entire face as mirthful giggles escape her lips.)

Who would've thought that this was in the cards for him? Certainly not Hancock. He thought he was lucky enough just to be in the presence of someone like Sole, but for her to return the feelings he had for her? To enthusiastically agree to being in a relationship with him? To want to start a family together? Hancock was sure he was dead, or riding the wildest high of his life, for how could this be reality for someone like him? A junkie, a bachelor, a coward, a ghoul, a flimsy torn page with "bad news" written all over it. Nah, he didn't deserve this, but damn was he overjoyed at the fact that Sole thought he did, and who was he to question her judgement?

Hancock had never thought this would be possible, the whole "baby" thing… even though he knew about donors and such, he always thought it would be too painful for Sole to consider having a family again. And with him? Of all the folks in the Commonwealth and beyond, she wanted the infamous ghoulified mayor of Goodneighbor to be a father? To her kid? He was fucking ecstatic. He didn’t quite understand why she wanted to raise a baby with him, why she thought he’d be any good at it, if she thought that. He knew he wouldn’t be the perfect fit for this kinda lifestyle; that he knew for certain, but the fact that she wanted him to try… that shit made his whole body tingle with warm gratitude from the inside out.

He would try to be calm, collected, and altogether nonchalant about the whole process in order to keep Sole relaxed. From finding the donor, to the fertilization, to the pregnancy, and all the way through to Sole going into labor, he would try to be as calm and cool as a November night. And on the outside, he'd do a damn good job, but inside? Nah, inside, this ghoul's worried sick. If anything went wrong with his sunshine, he wouldn't know what to do, he's not sure he could take a blow like that.

So, he’d try not to think too much about what could go wrong, since he knew that would only make it harder for him to be there for Sole in the way that she needed, but occasionally he’d just have those kinda days. A bad trip, a fitful night fraught with horrific dreams, a bout of horrifying overthinking as Sole uttered a pained sound from one little thing or another, or a stint of morning sickness that seemed to last just a bit too long for his liking. All of these would have the poor mayor on edge. Normally, when he was stressed, Hancock would try to chill out with some jet, or calmex, but he really was trying to give up the junkie life to the best of his irradiated abilities. It was a vicious cycle of anxiety every once in a while, but Sole was always there to help him through it. To remind him that this wasn’t her first experience with having a baby, to tell him that he was doing a wonderful job, despite his anxieties, and to remind him that they were the Sole Survivor and the Mayor of fucking Goodneighbor, and that they could face damn near anything when they were together.

Those were only the bad days though. On the good days, oh, hon... Hancock was simply blissful. Sole really is in for a treat, as she is absolutely 100% pampered and loved on, coddled and looked after for 9 months straight, and then some (minus the couple of bad days, where she has to be the one doing the coddling, but really, how could she mind?). As soon as the pair finds out that Sole really is going to have this baby, Hancock is already offering her anything she may need in order to stay safe and comfortable for the next 9 months.

Hancock’s chill personality really shines when it comes to any mood swings Sole may have, and a lifetime of chem and alcohol use has rendered the ghoul particularly skilled at cooking foods that are comforting and easy to make/eat that come in handy after bouts of morning sickness. Who knew that all of his hangover experience would come in handy like this?

While Hancock loves nothing more than going on adventures in the Commonwealth alongside his beloved, he wouldn’t say it in so many words, but would be more reluctant than usual to leave Goodneighbor or Sole’s house. When, before, he would have leapt up at the prospect of hunting down some goons and making the world a better place through some good ole fashioned violence, Hancock couldn’t think of anything worse than having Sole get injured, or potentially losing the one he loves more than anything in the world, and the possibility of a future family with her if some shit went wrong. So, while he absolutely knows she is capable and an complete beast in combat, and he recognizes that Sole can’t stay cooped up indoors for the whole 9 months, (and let’s face it, he certainly doesn’t want to either, but he’s not about to leave his love behind so he can get outta the house once in a while) he definitely steers the pair away from the areas he knows to be more sketchy than others.

Hancock just loves showing Sole off. He did this before the pregnancy as well, but man, now if anyone comes up to the pair when she starts showing, you know Hancock is already beaming as he tells the inquiring stranger just how far along she is, whether it’s a boy or a girl (if they know), or even what they think the baby’s gender is if they don’t want to know/can’t find out, how often the baby has been kicking, and he may even ask for opinions on baby names from certain kind folks who come up to chat with the parents-to-be. It’s also quite likely that he uses these passer-byes as an indirect way to further compliment Sole, saying things to them like, “Doesn’t she look gorgeous?,” “Just look at how she glows,” or “It’s just incredible how you/these ladies do this, isn’t it? Damn it if she's not the strongest person I know,” just to showcase his admiration for her. Does it sometimes result in strange looks from the strangers? Of course. Does Hancock care, or even seem to notice? Not remotely. He's too busy gawking at the love of his life and her blushing, embarrassed glory.

The mayor tends not to be rude about it unless the person ignores him, but if he notices someone smoking nearby, he will ask them to put out whatever it is, or to simply move if he and Sole were there first. In addition to that, he will make quite the lifestyle change for himself, voluntarily giving up chems to the best of his abilities so long as withdrawals don't prevent him from caring for Sole, and when he does partake, Hancock won’t do it around her, he’ll move outside or to another room. He would also offer to give up alcohol, since he knows that she won’t be able to drink with him anyway, and leave it up to her if she wants him to go cold turkey like her. Even if she doesn’t mind, he still won’t drink in excess around her during her pregnancy. It's kind of a respect thing for him, and there ain't no one he respects more than the future mother of his child.

(little bit of NSFW content here) When it comes to sex, Hancock is even more generous than usual in the bedroom (if you can believe it's possible). His every movement acts as a tribute to his appreciation for the woman he loves more than life itself. He’d be sure to be gentle, but in all honesty, Hancock wouldn’t change anything too much (no need to fix what ain't broken, ya know?). He has always paid particular attention to Sole beneath the sheets, since he’s quite experimental, and comfortable with most kinks and things himself, so he tends to let her choose positions, location, duration, and pacing, and would definitely keep it this way during the pregnancy. You think this man used to really get into body worship before, this is just a whole nuther level. As Sole puts on weight later into her pregnancy, he takes full advantage of her swelling plushness, running his hands over her body, taking the time to squeeze and palm every bit of her growing softness, constantly complimenting every bit of her as his starving eyes eat up every inch of her beauty. Especially if Sole is self-conscious about any of the changes in her body, Hancock will be sure to constantly remind her that she’s the most captivating and gorgeous person he’s ever met. No stretch mark appears on her body without being lovingly kissed, no soreness will develop without the offer of a nice, long massage (this perhaps is just another excuse to get his hands on her), no tenderness will go unnoticed and will be accounted for when his hands are roaming her body. In general, he’s as loving and doting as ever, but he's also on high alert for any signs of pain or discomfort coming from his other half.

He’d be SO excited every time the baby kicked. For some reason, the babe seems to wait until he’s around to do it, and he’s thrilled. Sole is a little weirded out by it, but she honestly takes it as a good sign. But oh man, Hancock's hands will be all up in that shit, not wanting to miss a thing as Sole smiles at him like this isn't the fourth time this has happened in one evening (does he use this as yet another excuse to touch Sole? Hmm, who knows [the answer is yes]). Sometimes he forgets to be sympathetic when Sole can't sleep due to the fluttering in her belly, but his roughened hands smoothing rhythmically over her stomach throughout the night might just help her catch a few Zzs after all.

He’s admittedly quite nervous as she approaches labor, becoming ever more protective as her belly swells to its largest point, ensuring she avoids any kinda gun fight, crazy high heights or unneeded stress, and he would be adamant about Sole sitting out any outings, missions, or other activities in the dangers of the Commonwealth. But man, would he make an environment she didn’t want to leave. Pillows, snacks, dim lighting, good conversation, music, soft touches, compliments galore, and a man who is at her constant beck and call, willing and happy to do anything and everything she might need or want? Yeah, here’s to say, Sole didn’t really want to leave anyway.

By the end of the pregnancy, Hancock has a strange mix of apprehension and denial going on. He’s used to Sole being pregnant now, he knows how to deal with everything, how to take care of her, what makes her uncomfortable and how to fix it. But a kid? An infant? He doesn’t know how babies work, doesn’t know how to tell what they want from him. He’s excited beyond belief at the thought of being a father, but he just doesn’t know how to do it. He tries to think back to his own dad, and the way that he was brought up as a kid, (though, he's not sure that's a great frame of reference given the way he turned out) and definitely goes off of Sole’s judgement, but he can’t shake the feeling that he was never meant for this. To settle down and have a family. He isn’t his dad, he’s Hancock. He’s not a “family man,” not a picturesque pre-war looking man with a normal job and a cookie-cutter backstory; he’s a self-made ghoul, a junkie, a deadbeat whose earned his position of power by bathing in the blood of tyrants who died by his own hand, and shooting his veins up with every kinda poison the wastes have to offer. How do you explain that to a kid? That he made himself the way he is, cuz he couldn’t stand the man he’d grown up to be? What the hell kinda example is that? He wouldn't doubt for a second that his baby would be the center of his world from the moment he sees it, but if anything, that only ups the anxiety that he'll do something to mess the kid up. Hancock would be nervous as shit, but if Sole had confidence in him, well… he trusts her judgement more than he does his own, so if she thinks he’s "daddy" material, he ain’t gonna argue with that. All he can do is hope she’s right, follow her lead, take it one day at a time, and hope that him trying his absolute hardest will be enough.

#fallout #fallout companions #fallout companions reactions #fallout companions reacts #fo4 #fallout 4 headcanons #fallout 4 companions reactions #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 companions reacts #fo4 companions #fo4 headcanons #fo4 hancock #fallout hancock #john hancock #hancock fo4 #hancock x sole survivor #pregnant sole survivor #f!sole

157 notes · View notes

juuuuliee · 3 years

Text

Her Sun

A/N: I hope you like it :)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Pairing: Sirius Black X Reader

Genre: fluff, (a little) angst at the end

Warnings: War

Sirius shone. Sirius glowed. Whenever he walked into a room, he glowed and you couldn't take your eyes off him. He was like the sun, hidden behind clouds some days. It didn't want to be seen. But other days it shone so much that you could just pay attention to it. It made you happy when it shone.

Sirius Black made you happy.

He didn't even have to try hard to make you laugh. You just did when he grinned at you with his grey eyes, with the unpredictable gleam in them. You had to be happy when you saw Sirius Black.

Y/N Y/L was happy when she saw him and that was enough for him.

It was a grey day. The weather was muggy and there were occasional showers, which encouraged the students to stay indoors rather than out. Y/N was walking down the corridor with Lily Evans, her best friend, on her way to History of Magic. Listlessly, Sirius and James trotted along behind them.

"I don't know what we're going to get out of this subject. Merlin, the teacher is a bloody ghost. If that doesn't tell you something, I don't know what does." Maul Sirius and James agreed with him: "I'm sure he died of boredom too..."

Y/N turned to her steady boyfriend and his best friend with a roll of her eyes.

"It's only an hour. Besides, you guys don't pay attention anyway and always sleep. What kind of effort is that?" "Exactly! We could do so much more than just sit there." Agreed James, who seemed to have misunderstood a bit, to which Lily and Y/N just sighed.

"Yes, Potter you could pay attention and get a good grade in the subject." Said Lily snappishly, who had now turned to the boys as well.

"Oh Evans, I was hoping for your help to be honest." James replied with an insolent grin.

"Forget it, Potter! I'm not going to help you with a subject, you're not even trying to help yourself with and maybe LEARN- I know, a term you're actually afraid of!" taunted Lily back, to which Y/N and Sirius could only roll their eyes.

And so it went all the way to the classroom, James flirting with Lily and Lily bitching at him....

It was obvious to everyone, really. James liked Lily. Lily liked James. Everyone knew it, it wasn't a secret anymore. Not to anyone but the two of them. James, who for years had been LONGING for Lily's approval- yes, you could say that- and Lily, who just didn't take the boy seriously. Merlin, who would? James Potter was as mentally ready as a fourteen year old girl, in the middle of puberty and with severe mood swings! Unfortunately, Potter could only be laughed at in parts; sometimes he liked Lily and wanted to marry her, but then he became mean and totally idiotic.

But Lily wasn't always better either... Of course Y/N loved her best friend, but sometimes she just wanted to kick her butt and order her to finally go out with this boy so he would shut up.

They were like little children.

To be fair, Y/N and Sirius were like that too, possibly even worse for others.

When they arrived at the classroom, Lily and James stopped throwing unnecessary and childish things at each other and the group split up. Lily and Y/N sat down at their table and started taking notes on the, admittedly, boring class topics.

After a far too long, dreadful lesson, which reminded Y/N very much of the train journey in which she sat alone in a compartment with Lily and James because the others were in another carriage, Y/N stood up, hung her bag over her shoulder and left the room with a sigh and a final "bye" to Professor Binns.

On her way to the Great Hall, she met Lily, who had to (or was allowed to) leave class early to meet the other confidential students.

"My goodness, every time I see Malfoy it almost makes my head spin. Merlin, you can't really be more stupid and mean than that. Luckily he'll be gone next year and no longer be Head Boy. The way he treats me and the other trusties! As if we were dirt. And his partner, the other head girl, Amanda - I think you know her - she's really nice, from Hufflepuff. She's a friend of Alice and Frank's. Merlin, I feel sorry for her." Lily sighed and Y/N stroked her shoulder reassuringly.

Was it that bad?" she asked, pity in her voice, and Lily nodded vigorously.

"I just don't understand..." she began, "Why can't he just leave us alone and go back to his basement with his Death Eater friends where he is relatively wanted. Yes, we are Muggle-born! Merlin, what more do you want to say to that..." sighed Lily and Y/N nodded empathetically.

Unfortunately, many purebloods still had something to say about being muggle-born..., "Mudblood", "We don't want you here", "We're better than you" were phrases that Y/N, Lily and other muggle-born students were accused of by many. One could say that it was still humble when reading the news in the Daily Prophet....

Arriving in the Great Hall, the two sat down next to Remus and Sirius, who were talking to James, who was sitting across from the boys.

Sirius greeted Y/N with a smile before giving her a small kiss on the lips.

"Hey," she greeted him and he looked at her suspiciously.

"Are you okay?" he asked with his eyebrows drawn together and she nodded quickly as she put something on her empty plate and gave the still suspicious Sirius a smile, which he returned.

____________________________________________

It had long since grown dark and the students had long since retired to their Dorms. So had Sirius and Y/N, who had gone to sirius dorm together. Y/N leaned her back against the edge of the bed while Sirius lay nicely long with his legs over hers and his arm wrapped around her stomach.

Y/N looked out of the window thoughtfully, but there was nothing to see but darkness.

"Do you think it will get better?" whispered Y/N into the silence and Sirius lifted his head to look at her.

"What?" he whispered back softly, running his fingers over her forearm to get her to look at him. She turned to look down at him. She could only make out the outline of his face because of the darkness, but she noticed how his grey eyes studied her face.

„Everything. The war. You know who..." she whispered back and she saw his expression become more serious. He sat up and wrapped his right arm around her shoulder, touching her neck lightly.

"I don't know... I hope so." Sirius replied after a few seconds and you could tell he was unsure about having said the right answer. Y/N nodded slightly and closed her eyes.

After a few minutes of silence, she opened them again and began to speak: "I'm scared." She confessed and bit her lips.

„I am afraid for my family and my friends. I'm afraid for you and I'm afraid that it will never stop and that day by day it will become less and less and more and more will die. I'm afraid that it will become a daily routine to lose people you love. I don't want that. I don't want to die... I don't want you to die or Lily or James or Remus or Peter. I don't want any of that..."

She hadn't realised that she had started to cry and Sirius had pulled her into a tight hug after she had spoken the words that had been stuck in her throat all day.

"I'm scared too." Whispered Sirius into her hair as his arms tightened around her middle as if he never wanted to let her go.

"It's going to be okay though. As long as we have each other, we'll be fine, okay?" he whispered against her ear this time so she could hear him better.

She just nodded and buried her face a little more into his jumper so she could breathe in his comforting scent.

As long as he was there, it was all good. As long as, she could pretend he was her sun, everything would be okay.

Because when he was there, she was happy.

Maybe only for a brief moment. He made her happy and shone for her...

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #marauders x y/n #marauders x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black one shot #marauders oneshot #marauders imagine #sirius angst #sirius fluff #sirius x reader #lily evans potter #Marauders #young sirius black x reader #young sirius x reader

166 notes · View notes

writefasttalkevenfaster · 3 years

Text

John Munch / Simple

Prompt: “Suck it” “oh i’m gonna suck something”

Word Count: 3,887

Warnings: canon typical situations and violence, discussion of rape (non-graphic), hurt/comfort apparently, fin and munch are literally some of my fav characters to write for lmao, some discussion of the psych evals from 1x22

A/N: what is this? how did this happen? I don’t know - i blame @laneygthememequeen mostly, but also my friends for enabling me beyond belief lmao.

“Am I allowed to come in or must I bow and show my allegiance before I am deemed worthy?” and you didn’t need to look up from your desk to know who it was. Your pen still moved, scribbling notes in the margins of the answer that was given to you by Roger Klessler — more hassle than law.

“No need for allegiance, Detective Munch — I know you only give that to your squad and your string of conspiracy theories,” you finish with the page, sparing him a glance, “only compliance is needed — the one thing you didn’t do on the last case.”

“Your hands aren’t exactly clean yourself, counselor,” he shuts the door behind him, slipping his hands into his pockets, “what did you do to get that warrant again?”

You raise an eyebrow, “Are you questioning my integrity?”

“Funny, I didn’t know lawyers had any,”

“They don’t, but I can try, can’t I?” you lean on your elbow, “what do you need?”

“We have a suspect in holding who just invoked, we thought they might be a little more conducive to having an A.D.A. in the box with them,” he tilted his head.

“Alex isn’t available?”

“Alex told us to get you,” you held in your sigh, “don’t you lawyers talk to each other?”

“No, we communicate through telepathy,” you reply drily, grabbing your coat and bag, “Let’s go.”

~~~

“Counselor, you should remind your client that his options are running out,” to say this meeting was going poorly would have been the understatement of the century, “and my patience is running thin.”

A serial child and women abuser — with videos abusing so many children and women over the last twenty years, videos that made your stomach turn — and to make matters worse, he had made into a business, selling these children and women and their pain for profit — and now it was time to make his pain your profit.

“You have no evidenc—”

“We have a witness who saw your client, we have his DNA being run against the blood that was found at the scene, and when it comes back it will match and your client will be facing life in prison—” your teeth grit, “And I’ll be sure he gets it. Or, give up your sick buddies. And maybe you’ll have the possibility of parole in the far off future.”

“You fucking bitch—” he spits at you.

“Is that the best you can do?” you raise an eyebrow, as you see Munch tense out of the corner of your eye, “Mr. Bradford, I’m not scared of you. I’m not a defenseless child or battered woman you can intimidate—” you cross your arms, “not so easy picking on someone who can fight back, is it?”

Bradford lunges, but Munch shoves him back into his chair, “Do we need to add assault on an A.D.A. to your laundry list of charges, Bradford?” and you blink, slack jawed, a shiver going down your spine — if Munch was a second later— “Try that again and I’ll have you—”

There’s a knock on the window, and your eyes snap over, “Control your client, counselor, or I’ll have him locked up in solitary,” your jaw is set — you wouldn’t give him the pleasure of seeing you waver, “the offer had 24 hours — it now has an expiration date in ten, so look forward to hearing from you in one.”

The door shuts behind you, your fingers white knuckling the handle of your briefcase. Liv frowns, “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you wave them off, as Munch emerges from the room as well, “tell me when he caves to my offer. And when you’re setting up the sting to get the other guys — I want to be there to make everything go smoothly. No screw ups this time.”

“All due respect, counselor, but we don’t need a babysitter,” Fin says.

“All due respect, Detective, maybe you do,” you swallow the lump sitting on your throat, “we need to nail these guys — we have all of New York, 1PP, and the D.A.’s office all breathing down our necks — it needs to be airtight,” you scan all of their faces, “unless all of you would like to take the heat?”

“I don’t think any of us want that, counselor,” Cragen cuts in, “we appreciate your help. We’ll let you know when we decide to go ahead with the sting.”

You nod curtly, intent on leaving the precinct as quickly as you could — the image of Bradford lunging at you still fresh and stinging — but nothing was that easy, “Counselor,” Munch was at your side, standing beside you at the elevators, as you pressed the button, “in a rush?”

“To go home? Yes,”

“I just wanted—”

“Wanted what, Munch? What do you want?” you sigh exasperatedly, fighting a losing battle for your voice not to break, “I’m not in the mood for a verbal sparring match, so why don’t we take a rain check?”

The elevator doors ding, and you step in, hoping to spare yourself the agony of a response, but he follows, the doors shutting behind him.

But surprisingly his voice was soft, “I wanted to make sure you were okay,”

“I’m fine,” you cross your arms, hoping that it would hold you together, until you got to your office, “I’m not scared of him, Munch—”

“I know you could kick his ass, counselor, I’m not asking you if you’re ready to go seven rounds in the ring with him—” he leans against the wall of the elevator, “I’m just asking if you’re alright.”

You raise an eyebrow, “John Munch asking me if I’m alright? No sarcastic remark?”

“I know, I’m surprised myself, I might have to ask Skoda to do a psych eval on me,” and you crack a smile, shaking your head.

“It was scary,” you admit, something you didn’t want to, “I’ve been threatened before — messages, verbally, even had a guy say he would kill my family—” you bite your lip, “but I never had someone try something, physically before.”

“It’s okay to have been scared, y’know,” the elevator doors ding, and you step out, shaking your head, “no one expects you to be strong all the time, counselor.”

And you pause, looking back at him, “But I do,” you blink away the tears, “good night, detective.”

~~~

“It’s too risky!” you ignore Munch, continuing to fix your makeup, “You saw how you acted when Bradford lunged at you — why—”

“I would do anything to make sure these men get put away,” you finish your makeup, grabbing the outfit Liv had handed you, “and that includes this.”

This being an undercover operation designed to get names of victims, ages, and dates if possible, before arresting the group for exchanging pictures and videos of their crimes.

“Putting yourself in the middle of this chaos? You’re being reckless—”

You slide past him and into a bathroom stall, “I know what I’m doing,”

“Do you? Do you know how many things could go wrong?” he continues, “I could list them for you for posterity — assault, battery, rape, and let’s not forget murder—”

“I don’t think Liv will let me get murdered when she’s in the room with me, and I would you, Fin, Stabler, and the Captain wouldn’t either—”

“Things go wrong on these ops, counselor — the field isn’t as safe as a courtroom — court officers, a metal detector right outside—”

His words fail when the door swings open, a skin tight bodysuit clung to your figure, crimson, just as his ears nearly were, his eyes raking over your outfit, before finding their way back to your raised brows, “You were saying?”

He stumbles over his words, “I was saying that—” you cross your arms, waiting and he finds himself distracted all over again, before he shakes himself from his stupor, “I was saying that this is too dangerous—”

“Munch—” you cut him off, “I appreciate your concern, really I do, but I’m going to nail these guys anyway I can, so you can’t change my mind,” your hand finds his shoulder, squeezing, “but I can count on you to have my back right?”

He simmers, sighing, his eyes softening, “Of course,” and you squeeze his shoulder, and he calls after you as you head towards the squadroom, “I just hope they taught you taekwondo in law school,”

“And I hope you know by ‘having my back,’ I meant more than my ass,” you flash him a smile over your shoulder, shaking your head, and flexing your fingers.

It would be fine.

You would be fine.

~~~

It wasn’t fine. He couldn’t find you.

“Where is he? Where is that son of a bitch, he took—”

“Munch, calm down,” Liv starts, and he’s shaking his head, his finger in his face.

“You were supposed to watch them, you were supposed to—”

“Hey, Munch,” Elliot cuts between him and his partner, his hand on his shoulder, “we all were there, Bradford slipped out during the raid, there wasn’t anything we could do. We’re going to find them.”

Munch brushes him away, finding Fin, “Where are we on Bradford?”

“Got him sneaking out during the takedown,” Fin points you out in the crowd, “looks like he had a knife pressed against counselor’s back, just out of view.”

“How the hell did that scum sucking, gangrenous low life of a—”

“Looks like he stole it off one of his buddies he was setting up,” Fin rewinds the tape, and points it out, “lifts it right from his pocket.”

“Where does he go?” Fin fast forwards, until he gets to the cameras outside, shooting from the van itself.

“He steals a car down the street, must belong to that brownstone,” Fin shoves the equipment at another officer, “Let’s get the license plate and get a bolo out.”

Liv and Elliot join the two of them, handing a report to Fin, “We got a list of places that Bradford was known to hang out at—”

“What are we waiting for?” Munch brushes past them to the car, rounding the car to the driver’s seat, pulling it open, before Fin stops him.

“I’m driving,” Fin says, holding his hand, and Munch opens his mouth to rebut, “do we really have time to argue right now?”

Munch glares at him, before handing him the keys, “You better not abide by any traffic laws,”

“Do I ever?”

~~~

“Can we go any faster than this? I swear my great uncle could drive faster than this,” Munch expects his partner to be angry, but he’s only sighing and shaking his head, “what?”

And Fin side eyes him, “If you’re in love with—”

Munch gapes at him, “I’m not—”

“--then why don’t you just say something, man?” Fin scoffs, “you can deny it all you want, explain it away with one of your crazy ass conspiracy theories, but it’s there, John.”

Munch pulls off his glasses, running his hand over his face, fingers resting right below his nose, “You know every time I got married, I thought I was in love,”

“I know, and then your ex-wives screwed you — what about it?”

“This is different,” he sighs, “and I don’t want to admit that to myself.”

“What’s so bad about that, Munch? You want to try again,” and Munch is shaking his head.

“You know a psychiatrist once told me that the reason all my marriages failed was because I chose women who were spoiled, beautiful, and not my intellectual equal?”

“Meeting some of your ex-wives, I could believe that,” Fin’s eyes fall back to the road, “what’s your point?”

Your name slips from his lips, “this is different — this is someone’s who's my equal — smarter than me, beautiful— it could — we could be—” he cuts off, “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose--” and he cuts off, sighing, “I don’t know.”

“Well that’s easy, John,” Fin pulls over, the car screeching as it does, “we won’t,” and he jerks his head, “whose car does that look like?” Munch calls in the car, unbuckling himself and slipping from the car, “We have to wait for back-up—”

“I’m not waiting—” before he adds, “you don’t have to come—”

“I’m not letting your bony ass get shot again,” Fin is already shutting the car door, pulling his gun out, “let’s go.”

~~~

“Are you scared now?” Bradford asks, circling you — a predator gauging its prey — no, he was simply playing with you now. Your wrists flex against your restraints, the wood grain of the chair digging into your skin the more you struggled, the rope around your wrists ungiving, “are you, counselor?”

It was rhetorical — judging by the tape stuck to your lips and the fact he continued to speak, and his fingers fist into your hair, pulling your head back, “Come on, no smart remarks now?”

Are you that stupid that you’ve forgotten that you taped my mouth over?

No, wait he was that stupid.

And he slaps you — the sting of his palm against your cheek dazes you a moment, and then his fist lands a blow in your stomach, choking on the same air you breathed, tears burning before slipping down your cheeks.

“Do you think this is bad?” and now he’s holding your face between his fingers, nails digging into your cheeks, and he grins, a shiver going down your spine, “just wait.” And he disappears a moment, his shadowy figure rifling through a bag on a table.

Your eyes darted around, looking for something that could help you, something to help you escape, but nothing was within reach. Your chest squeezed — what if you died here? What if you never saw your family again? What if you never saw your friends again? What if they never found your body? Fear claws up your throat, eyes burning.

What if they found your body?

What if Munch found your body?

You had promised him you’d be careful, but you were careless. You didn’t watch Bradford close enough, you didn’t stick with Liv, you were stupid — so stupid.

And you wondered if he’d rape you before he was done — if they would find your body like so many victims that came across your desk. You wondered if he’d kill you at all — or just let you live with the memories of his torture.

And you didn’t know what was worse.

But then something clatters in the distance, and his head is whipping around, there are footsteps, and he’s grabbing a knife, cutting your restraints free, “Come here bitch,” he mutters, hurrying to cut the ropes, at your feet before moving to the ones at your wrists, “they aren’t taking me before I get a chance to slit your throat.”

Blood roaring in your ears, you know you have to do something — he’s almost done cutting the last rope at your wrist. You couldn’t wait for help.

You rear your head back, before smashing it into his, hard. His groan gets caught in his throat, as you lunge for the knife, the handle within grasp of your fingers, and you’re trying to crawl away, a deep ache in your skull. You’re stumbling to your feet, but his fingers close around your ankle.

“I should have fucking killed you from the start,” and you kick him with your free foot, hearing him scream and the satisfying crack of his nose breaking, gripping the knife in your hand and pushing yourself to your feet.

And you rip the tape from your mouth, “Get the fuck away from me!” you point the knife at him, heart pounding against your ribcage, as he lays clutching his bloody nose.

But he’s still getting to his feet, “You better hand over that fucking knife—”

“You better not take another step before I blow your brains out,” and suddenly Fin and Munch are there, Fin stepping forward to arrest Bradford, as Munch is beside you.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” and he’s trying to ease the knife out of your fingers, but you won’t let go, “let go of the knife, it’s okay,” he’s murmuring in your ear, slipping the knife from your fingers, “you’re okay. I got you.”

Your knees are buckling, and he’s holding you, your head buried in his chest, “I thought he was going to—”

“I know,” he says softly, “I know, but you’re okay.”

“Because of you,” And he’s helping you up, and police sirens in the distance, as he helps you out of the building, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he whispers, “I’m sorry,”

“For what?” and his arm around you squeezes you gently.

“For not saving you sooner,” And suddenly EMS and police are flooding the scene, Fin is shoving Bradford into a car. And you spot him, glaring, but Munch steps between his view, his arm around your shoulders, “don’t bother with that scum. He’s not worth it.”

And he wasn’t — you knew he wasn’t, but you know that you wouldn’t be able to prosecute him now. But, you craned your neck to watch him be taken away, you wanted to see the bastard get put away at least.

It’s over, you tell yourself as you rest your head against Munch’s shoulder.

It was over.

~~~

“I just want to go home,” you shake your head, but he pulls you along regardless, protesting all the same.

“Just let them look at you, please?” he asks, “if only for my sanity.”

And you scoff softly, “I thought you lost that a long time ago,”

“There’s that wit,” he replies, and you go with him, fingers intertwined with his. E.M.S. examines you, insisting on taking you to the hospital for a possible concussion. But you don’t want to — you just want to sleep, you want to take a shower, you want to forget this ever happened—

“Please just let me go,” you’re pleading with him, tears slipping down your cheeks, “John, please let me go home.” and he’s wavering for a moment, before his hand is on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down.

“I can’t, and you know that, counselor,” he never wanted to see you cry like this, he never wanted to see you as a victim — because you aren’t just another victim at his desk or in photos spread across his desk — you were you.

But you were also a victim now.

“Why not?” you lie against the pillow in defeat, tears slipping down your cheeks, and he’s leaning down to your level, running his fingers through your hair.

“Because you’re hurt, and you need to be seen. I don’t trust doctors as much as the next conspiracy nut, but you still need to see one,” he tilts his head, “do you want me to come?”

And you’re blinking back tears, before nodding, “I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Don’t apologize,” he’s wiping your tears away, “don’t ever apologize for this.”

~~~

You don’t remember much else — it’s a blur of testing, until finally they let you sleep. And you don’t know how long you sleep. But you don’t dream, and for that much, you’re thankful. You awake to the low hum of hospital machinery, and quiet voices in the room. And you blink, the fluorescents much too bright for you, and your eyes flutter shut again, before not before voices creep in.

“—been asleep?”

“It’s been a few hours,” Munch whispers, assumedly trying to keep from waking you, but that was out of the question already, “docs gave something for sleep.”

“Have you said anything yet?” and it’s Fin asking.

“When? In between the ambulance ride here and the C.A.T. scan and the fifty other tests they ran?” Munch replies drily, sighing, “it’s not the right time,”

“You know there’s never going to be a right time, John,” and you’re grateful that you’re turned away from them, your brow furrowed, their voices growing louder, “you have to say something or is counselor a mind reader now?”

“Well—”

“Don’t spout another conspiracy theory or you’ll be the one in the hospital bed,” you could almost see Fin crossing his arms.

“You know that psychiatrist also told me I could make a conspiracy theory from a five-year-old’s lemonade stand,”

Fin raises an eyebrow, “Well now that I believe,”

“What am I supposed to say?” Munch asks, “‘hi, I know you almost just died, but I think I’m in love with you?’”

And your eyes snap open, the air sucked straight from your lungs — “It can be that simple,”

He was in love with you? John Munch was in love with you. Your heart squeezed at the thought — you hadn’t a clue that he was. You knew he cared — but you didn’t know he… loved you.

“Nothing is ever that simple,” and you turn around, the words leaving your lips without a thought.

“It can be, John,” and both him and Fin’s gazes snap to you, a small smile on your lips, “if you let it be.”

Munch is staring at you slack jawed, while Fin is grinning, elbowing him, “I’ll leave you two alone,” before he adds, “remember that there is an officer at the door—”

“Fin—” and he’s gone, disappearing out of the door, and Munch is wiping a hand down his face, his cheeks flushed red, “so how much of that—”

“All of it,” and he’s covering his hands with his face, “for someone who claims to be so evolved, you’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,”

“I’m cute?” he repeats, and you hold out your hand to him, and he’s staring a moment — as if he can’t believe it — before taking your hand, “how cute?”

You snort, “Just cute enough, don’t go getting an ego,”

“You’re sure it’s not just the concussion? And the almost dying?” and you roll your eyes, tugging him closer, by his coat’s lapel, and he’s whispering your name.

“How’s this for an answer?” and you kiss him — his lips barely brush yours a moment, but he’s already pulling you back in, parting and meeting until you hold him there a moment, fingers twisting in the hair resting on the small of his neck, “John—” you breath against his lips.

“I don’t understand why…” he whispers, your foreheads brushing.

“Why...?”

“I don’t understand why me,” his fingers cup your cheek gently, as if you’d disappear between his fingers, “you could be with anyone — why would you choose this paranoid, old detective?”

“Because it’s you,” you softly chuckle, and you draw your lips to his again, “and I wouldn’t want you any other way,” before you add, “except maybe sharing your feelings more so I don’t have to overhear any other conversations to know how you’re feeling.”

“I could say the same to you, counselor,”

“Excuse me, I said how I felt first,” you gape at him, in mock offense.

“Only after hearing how I felt,” but you shrug, smiling as your noses brush.

“Still, I was the first, so suck it,” you reply, and he laughs, a warm sound that makes your chest stir.

“Oh,” his lips brush yours, a smile on his lips, “I’m gonna suck something.”

#john munch #john munch x reader #john munch imagines #john munch fanfiction #svu imagines #svu #law and order: svu #what the fuck is this dkfsnjfn

568 notes · View notes

bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

Text

Shimmering

Jiang Cheng hates to admit it, but he’s nervous. There’s no real reason for it, because the people in his department are nice enough, but he can’t help himself.

Going out for them with a drink is different than working together with them after all.

He guesses the only good thing about this is that Nie Huaisang and Nie Mingjue will be there as well and he knows them a little bit better already after all.

Both Nie Mingjue and Nie Huaisang have been incredibly nice to Jiang Cheng, helping him settle in after he decided to leave his father’s company—and therefor the family—and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know where he would be right now if it weren’t for them.

He knows Nie Huaisang a little bit better than Nie Mingjue, having somehow hit it off with Nie Huaisang but he knows enough about Nie Mingjue to know that he is everything his employees praise him about and then some.

Jiang Cheng guesses going for a drink with them will not be so bad.

He decides to be the designated driver for the evening though, because he doesn’t trust himself and his competitive streak when it comes to alcohol one bit and he doesn’t actually want to make a bad impression on any of his co-workers.

He shouldn’t have worried about that, though, he realizes somewhere around the three hour mark.

This evening is fun and even though Jiang Cheng isn’t drinking the good mood of the others is contagious and soon enough he’s pretty sure that you couldn’t tell the difference between the drunk ones and him.

It does help that Nie Mingjue keeps by his side all evening, Jiang Cheng has to admit that.

“You don’t have to babysit me,” Jiang Cheng says at one point, leaning over a bit so he can at least pretend that it’s a private conversation.

“I’m not, though,” Nie Mingjue gives back with a smile and Jiang Cheng notices with a start that he has laughter lines around his eyes.

He never noticed that before.

“Really, now?” Jiang Cheng asks, the disbelieve clear in his voice and Nie Mingjue smiles even more, adding the dimples to the laughter lines.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re comfortable. You seemed tense when we first went out,” he tells him with a shrug and Jiang Cheng has to duck his head to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“I’m alright,” he lowly tells Nie Mingjue who nods and then puts a hand to Jiang Cheng’s back.

“Yes, you are,” he gives back and then turns back to the table at large.

It takes Jiang Cheng a little bit longer to fully get back into the swing but when he does Nie Mingjue raises his glass at him and Jiang Cheng clinks their glasses together.

Nie Mingjue is smiling a lot this evening and Jiang Cheng can’t seem to take his eyes off him.

He had always known that Nie Mingjue is a very attractive man—only a blind person wouldn’t see that with one look—but now it’s the little things he keeps noticing about him. Like the laughter lines. Or the dimples. Or the way he slightly cocks his head when he listens to someone and the way he tries to give all of them the same attention.

Over the course of the evening Jiang Cheng also realizes that Nie Mingjue’s teeth are very straight and very white and from that point on it’s nearly impossible to take his eyes off Nie Mingjue.

It takes Jiang Cheng a little while longer to realize that beneath the perpetual tan Nie Mingjue seems to sport there are freckles to be found.

They are dusted all across his cheeks and nose and Jiang Cheng has to fight the urge to do something stupid.

He has never seen a man this attractive and he doesn’t even know where it’s coming from because he wasn’t that smitten with Nie Mingjue when he first met him. Or just four hours ago.

But Nie Mingjue keeps smiling at him, keeps including Jiang Cheng into the group even though for once in his life Jiang Cheng doesn’t feel like he’s struggling in a group at all, and it all does nothing but start a low simmering heat in his stomach.

Jiang Cheng tries to stick more to Nie Huaisang after that, because he can’t be fucking this up, can’t give in to something that’s probably unrequited and could potentially fuck up his job but even then it’s still a lot of fun.

They are out until the very early morning hours and Jiang Cheng feels drunk on happiness and the company.

It was a great evening.

He’s still whistling under his breath, walking towards the car, the people he’s supposed to drive home already a little ahead of him, the shimmering moonlight the only light to guide his way right now, when suddenly Nie Mingjue calls out for him.

“Hey, Wanyin, wait,” he says, and he tries to sprint up to Jiang Cheng though the alcohol in his system clearly makes it a little bit difficult.

“Mingjue, careful,” Jiang Cheng says, reaching out to steady Nie Mingjue when he comes to a stop in front of him.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Nie Mingjue asks and he looks so earnestly concerned at Jiang Cheng that he can’t help but to smile.

It prompts Nie Mingjue to smile as well and Jiang Cheng is yet again struck by how incredibly beautiful he is. It doesn’t help at all that he’s also a genuinely nice person and Jiang Cheng enjoys his company.

“I’m very sure. I didn’t drink, remember.”

“Yeah, but it’s late and you must be tired.”

“Nah, I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng says, though he can feel the tiredness creep in now that they all broke up and he doesn’t have the energy of the group to keep him awake anymore.

“Are you sure?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly still concerned. “Can you text me when you’re home? I just want to make sure you got there safely.”

“Of course I can,” Jiang Cheng says and pats Nie Mingjue’s arm. “I’ll text you.”

“Thank you,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and then has to hurry back when Nie Huaisang yells for him.

Jiang Cheng watches after him, a smile playing around his lips before he gets into the car. His co-workers must not have noticed the little exchange because no one says anything and Jiang Cheng drops each of them off as quickly as he can, the tiredness now creeping up on him as well.

He’s actually glad when the last person leaves his car and he can finally drive home.

Once he’s there, he suddenly feels like he’s been hit over the head with a hammer—or as if he drank a lot of alcohol, which he didn’t—and the only thought on his mind is to get into bed as fast as he can.

He forgets his phone in his jacket.

~*~*~

When Jiang Cheng wakes up he feels like shit. He can barely open his eyes and he feels like he could sleep for at least another whole day, but one look at the time tells him that it’s already nearing midday. He really should get up.

He feels distinctly like he has a hangover and Jiang Cheng mentally goes over the drinks he had the previous night, but he can’t remember drinking anything alcoholic. He probably would have tasted it anyway, even if it would have happened on accident.

“Fuck, I’m getting old,” he grumbles as he hauls himself to the bathroom, but not even a shower really helps.

If this is how sleep-deprivation feels like, he vows to never do it again.

This is worse than having a hang-over, in his opinion, and he slumps over at the kitchen table once he’s dressed and ready.

But making food—or even getting something from the fridge—seems like too much work right now, and it’s not like he’s particularly hungry either.

They probably really shouldn’t have ordered that last round of snacks last night.

Jiang Cheng is still contemplating if it’s worth getting some food inside of him when someone rings at his door.

Jiang Cheng groans and has half a mind just not getting up, but the ringing continues and eventually Jiang Cheng drags himself over there.

“What?” he bites out as he flings the door open, only to blink in surprise when he comes face to face with Nie Mingjue.

All of his new observations from last night hit him in the face at once and he can barely stand to look at Nie Mingjue, that’s how gorgeous he is.

“Thank the gods you’re okay,” Nie Mingjue breathes out and it’s only then that he notices the panicked look on his face.

“Is something wrong?” Jiang Cheng asks, and his mind goes over all the possibilities.

He can’t come up with anything more than food poisoning though, and that doesn’t seem to warrant Nie Mingjue’s panic.

“You promised me you’d write when you get home,” Nie Mingjue says and Jiang Cheng blinks in confusion before all the blood drains out of his face.

“Oh shit,” he whispers and turns around to get his phone out of his jacket.

It’s dead, of course.

“You didn’t write and then I couldn’t contact you this morning and you seemed really wiped yesterday night when we parted, so I got worried,” Nie Mingjue rambles and Jiang Cheng turns back to him.

It really shouldn’t be, but Nie Mingjue’s panic is really sweet and cute and Jiang Cheng is already so lost if he thinks like that, he knows.

“I’m okay, I just forgot,” he tells Nie Mingjue with a wince. “I’m so sorry. It really hit me how tired I am when I got home, and I fell into bed as quickly as possible. I didn’t even think. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine, that’s alright. I shouldn’t have panicked that hard,” Nie Mingjue says, but he seems reluctant to leave and Jiang Cheng finds himself reluctant to see him go as well.

“Would you—do you want breakfast? Or, well, lunch, I guess?”

“You still seem really tired,” Nie Mingjue says instead of answering his question and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Maybe I’m getting too old for days out like this. Now, what will it be?” he then asks and congratulates himself for his braveness.

That happy feeling flies out of the window when Nie Mingjue continues to hesitate.

“I—lunch?” he carefully asks and Jiang Cheng nods.

“As—I just have to—as a date?” Nie Mingjue then gets out and Jiang Cheng goes hot all over.

“I mean—”

“Because I would like that, actually,” Nie Mingjue rushes on, not giving Jiang Cheng time to answer. “But if not that’s okay, too and we can just pretend that this didn’t happen.”

“Are you still drunk?” Jiang Cheng asks him, narrowing his eyes at Nie Mingjue who shakes his head.

“No, of course not. I had breakfast, I’m good. It’s just—I’d really like to go on a date with you and it makes me nervous, I guess.”

Jiang Cheng cannot believe how far gone he is already that he finds that endearing as all hell.

“I’d love a date,” he gives back and pulls Nie Mingjue inside of his apartment. “I was just debating if eating is even worth it today, but with you it definitely is.”

When no answer from Nie Mingjue is forthcoming he turns around to look at him and is surprised to see Nie Mingjue stare at him.

“I really like you,” Nie Mingjue blurts out, clearly as nervous as he said, and Jiang Cheng can feel how his cheeks turn red.

“I really like you, too,” he gives back and then pushes Nie Mingjue towards his kitchen. “Let’s talk about that over lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue gives back and it’s what they do.

They talk about it over this lunch and then dinner two days later and then lunch at the company again and at that point Jiang Cheng happily loses count.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #the untamed #mdzs #mingcheng #mdzsbingo #modern au #getting together #fluff #there's really not much to say about this

121 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

The Promise of Rain, Blurb 3

Technically the third in a blurb-ish series (though this is kinda long for a blurb lol) but can technically be read as a stand alone, but i think the other parts make this seem more significant lol

A/n kinda angsty, not sure if i loveeee this but i haven’t posted a fic in such a long time bc of graduation chaos but now it’s summer and i’m working on a lot of requests/stories :))

Summary: jealousy is out of place when there’s no real warrant for it, and sometimes it’s okay to be content--to not need the rain to make you promises.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x sunshine-y! reader

Tiredness dulls the part of me that craves the rambunctious, but I’m still positive. I smile when someone does something only the truly inebriated find comical. I laugh when something somewhat actually funny happens, and I let the world around me drink. Twenty minutes--in twenty minutes I will claim a headache and go upstairs.

“You okay, y/n?” Jesper’s concern would border on genuinely considerate if it wasn’t for the slightest hint of slur in his words. Nights in which he consols himself after losing game after game are when he’s the friendliest. “You’re strangely quiet--you’re never quiet.”

I press my lips together oddly, smiling in a way that finally reaches my eyes. Jesper’s nice in an oddly particular way when he’s tipsy. Overly observant and careful. “Just a little tired,” I shift in my seat, leaning back against the plush seat in Kaz’s office, “I wish Kaz would just get here and dismiss us so I can go to bed.”

Jesper smiles, lifting his arm slightly and causing his glass to sway. Kaz is not going to take it well when he realizes that Jesper was extremely involved in the downstairs celebration. He turns ungracefully, moving to sit next to me with no warning. I half-heartedly glare as he takes up most of the small couch.

“You’re grumpy when you’re tired,” Jesper hums, stretching his casually.

I sigh once, but it lacks any bite. “I do not.”

He smiles easily, tilting his head so far to the side that it falls against the back of the seat, “No...but I know the real reason you’re grumpy.”

Rolling my eyes, I suppress my instinctual reaction. That would only expose his words as true. “I am not grumpy, there is no reason--”

“You know he hated it.”

I exhale, tired and slowly losing my fragine hold on fake tranquility. “Yeah.” That should make it better. “I know.” It doesn’t--it doesn’t make anything better.

So the contact we so desperately needed on our side took to flirting with Kaz. It was an uncomfortable situation because of its precariousness and I was worried because I know about his issues with touch. But it’s not like I care about the flirting part. No. It was unprofessional and so easily turned messy--that’s what my problem was.

Jesper sighs, stretching even more. I let him stretch his legs over me, too tired to push him off. I sigh, setting my chin on his bent knees. “What’s with the face, l/n?”

I roll my eyes again. Sometimes having someone care about you is annoying. I take back all of my positive thoughts about him--Jesper Fahey is an annoying drunk.

“There’s no face,” despite my words, I feel my expression sour even further. Jesper’s expression shifts from that of gentle worry to teasing pride. “And if there was one, it wouldn’t be because of Kaz Brekker.”

Jesper’s lips twitch upwards, something strange tainting his tipsy grin. “I never said a name.”

“One more condescending comment, and I’m shoving you off this damn couch.”

He laughs flatly, shifting closer and making himself more comfortable. Drunk and touchy--anyone else would have been slapped by now. “You’re nicer after some of this.”

He holds his glass out towards me casually, amber liquid sloshing slightly. I blink at the liquid with slight disinterest. I’m not exactly in the drinking mood...but I’m not exactly in the mood for any of this. The sound of the door opening doesn’t phase me--it’s not Inej, because she never lets herself be heard. Kaz doesn’t say anything, taking one dull step and then another, footsteps leaching the room of any warmth. The coldness he exudes so easily as a mask is strong tonight, I haven’t even looked at him and I can feel it.

Maybe I do need a drink.

I take the glass from Jesper, taking a quick and shallow sip of the liquid. It’s offensive in smell, taste, and the way it spills down my throat. The taste is much more intense than expected, some of the liquid slips past the corner of my mouth. Somehow more bitter than this moment, the liquid leaves me ready to splutter like a child. I exhale, pushing through the burning. Jesper moves his hand forward absentmindedly, wiping a single drop of liquid from my chin carelessly. The gesture would be sweet if my throat burned less.

“Jesper,” the warmth of the alcohol takes root in my chest, “That’s--” He laughs at my reaction, coaxing a smile from me. “Like literally the worst--why do you even have this?” If this is served in the Crow Club, I’ve never heard of it, this is the kind of under the counter alcohol that isn’t mass produced.

He laughs a little more freely. “Won it off of someone passing through--I don’t always lose.”

I wrinkle my nose, “An outlier shouldn’t be--”

“Oh, shut up.” Jesper laughs again.

“Both of you ‘shut up’,” Kaz sighs, stepping further into the room, “If you need to drink, at least wait until after my meeting.” I frown, ignoring Kaz’s lingering and sharp gaze, “You should all follow Inej’s example.”

“We can’t even see Inej.”

Kaz raises an eyebrow, but he regards me with nothing but voidness. He’s never exactly emotive, but normally in moments like this something I can never interpret touches his expression, coloring it human. “Exactly.”

“You’re funnier than people give you credit for.” The comment isn’t exactly sarcastic, but it’s something lighter than I should be offering. It’s an attempt at peace, the slight stiffness between us is starting to bother me. Our usual dynamic isn’t exactly friendly, but it’s more than this. Kaz glares. “But not tonight.”

His expression hardens. “Business is business. It’s not humor, it’s not whatever you try to make it.” Right. Just like it was business when that girl spent more time hitting on him than actually revealing real information. The thought leaves my expression tight as I swallow back my instinctual words. “It’s not whatever you’re currently doing.”

It takes me longer than it should to realize he’s referring to the position Jesper and I are in. Can he relax? It’s not my fault Jesper is tipsy and touchy.

“Kaz,” Inej’s voice is soft yet determined as she emerges from the shadows. It’s a miracle the way she’s nothing more than a shadow until she chooses not to be. “What’s our next job?”

Prompting Kaz in order to prevent a fight--Inej, always the closest thing to a mom available. I give her a partial smile, glad that she’s wedging herself between us and the tension, preventing conflict I’m too tired to follow through on.

“A merchant’s house,” he begins slowly, “We’ll be searching a merchant’s house but I’m seeking evidence more than property.” Jesper swings his legs off the couch with no warning. My head falls. I glare at Jesper who offers me a slightly apologetic tsk before dropping his head on my shoulder. Kaz must note the exchange because something in his expression tightens. He’s extra irritable today. “I’ll disclose more tomorrow,” he sighs once, already turning away, “Most of you are beyond listening tonight anyways.”

He’s at the door before I can tell him that I’m not drunk. The door opens and closes, but Kaz’s heaviness lingers like led. I frown, letting my head fall to the side, resting on Jesper’s.

“He’s weird today,” I mumble, unsure if I want a reply.

“He’s always like that,” Jesper breathes, “You’re losing your novelty, y/n--he always learns to harden himself against anything bright.”

The words leave me even more tired. “I don’t think I’m particularly bright.”

“Kaz does,” Inej replies, “And it has nothing to do with ‘novelty’, Jesper’s just cynical when he drinks.” I don’t know if I believe her, but I like knowing that Inej thinks that. “And Kaz can’t harden himself against you, and he hates that.”

I press my lips together, straightening my spine. “I’m not that great, and whatever Kaz does or doesn’t harden himself against doesn’t affect me at all.” My nails press into the plush seat. “I don’t even know why we’re talking about this because whatever he does or doesn’t feel doesn’t matter to me.” I force myself up, doing all I can to seem perfectly calm. “All I care about is going to bed.”

Turning my head, I start to approach the door. Kaz has been strangely cold all night, and while I’m used to his moods, he hasn’t exactly directed them at me so fully since the day he caught me waiting for him to wake up after he almost died. If he wants to go back to how it used to be, then it can. Maybe I’ll care in the morning, when the growing weight of my eyelids is no longer a distraction.

“Sometimes the two of you confuse me,” Inej begins, “And sometimes I see you try to deal with emotion and I see the common ground.”

The words leave me cold. I don’t think being compared to Kaz is an insult, not when there’s so much it could mean. He’s much more complex than he wants to be. There is goodness within him, gilding the parts of him that are more shards than anything else.

I exhale, refusing to turn. Inej is too observant for her own good. “There is no emotion.”

“I’m not going to waste my time arguing over that because I know it’s a waste of time.” She pauses and I consider turning around in hopes of reading something less honest from her expression. “I’m just telling you as a friend that one of you needs to be mature and talk to the other tonight before the tension gets worse and that it’s not going to be him.”

She’s right. I exhale, “Do you think I should let him go?” Even just saying that leaves my heart aching. I know instantly that that’s not what I want, but it might be what he wants--it might be the best option. I might have the strength to let him go if I work at it. “I don’t--that’s not what I want and I’m not sure I could, but maybe that’s selfish of me.”

“Y/n.” I turn slowly, but I purposefully avoid her gaze, keeping my head down. “I know that I’ve known Kaz longer than you, and I know that when he’s getting along with you he’s,” she trails off, uncertain, “More him, in a good way.”

My heart swells, and with that comes feelings of panic. I never wanted to change him--to make him better or worse or anything; all I’ve ever wanted is to know him and to maybe help him with his burden. And to hear that maybe I’ve done that from someone so close to him--someone so observant and aware. That’s everything. And that terrifies me. Nothing good can last; nothing that seems to be all you could ever want actually is. I know that from life before the Crows, before I ran away from the castle I called home.

“I think he does the same for you.” I’ve never really thought about Kaz’s effect on me outside of the fact that he makes me feel warm in small moments and painfully seen in large ones.

I smile because she’s trying and she’s given me something. “I’d say I’d tell you when I make my decision, but something tells me you’ll know.”

She nods, expression shifting to something kind. “Goodnight, y/n.”

Jesper stretches out on the couch, settling himself comfortably, “Night, y/n.”

“Goodnight, guys.” I disappear past the door easily, heading towards my room.

I haven’t decided whether or not I’m going to look for Kaz tonight. How much damage could be done in one night? Maybe he needs space. Maybe seeking him out now will make things worse. I exhale, opening the door to my room easily. I’ll decide before going to sleep.

When I step into the room, everything is in place. Everything is fine--but something about it feels off. The light is on. I didn’t leave the light on. Nothing else raises any red flags, so I continue into the room calmly, examining everything carefully. Nothing feels out of place as I further enter the room. I take in my bed, my dresser, and lastly my nightstand.

My heart swells all over again, but this time it feels even heavier than before. On the center of my nightstand, in perfect condition, is a copy of Pride and Prejudice. The same book I told Kaz about, the one thing besides clothing I took from the palace. I told him it was my mother’s favorite and then he asked me to read it to him.

I can’t picture him seeing this and thinking of me. I can’t picture him thinking of me--but no one else knew about my attachment to the book. I need to find him. I need to--to see him, to speak to him. To look him in the eye and see something I only ever see when we’re alone. Maybe he won’t have that look this time, but that’s okay.

I can’t expect to always understand him, but that does not mean I don’t know him.

The thought leaves me feeling a little more settled within the boundaries of my skin, but I don’t ease entirely. The good is more frightening than the bad. My fear of happiness is a benign secret I haven’t had to worry about in years. I don’t know enough about it to know how to deal with it let alone mention it to Kaz. Not that it’s his problem.

I squeeze the book to my stomach. Swallowing pride is a difficult thing, but I’m used to it with him. It’s usually worth it with Kaz because sometimes when I try he tries in his own way. I should find him. He’s not awfully creative about where he goes when he wants to be alone because people know better than to bother him. Kaz is probably in his attic or getting air outside or…

The lights were on when I came in. I’m an idiot. I didn’t feel weird when I walked into the room because of the book. Someone’s in here. He’s in here.

Setting the book down like I should have never touched it, I let out a sigh. “Lurking is unbecoming.”

“It’s also unbecoming to work for me and be so easily distracted by a book.” His voice reveals nothing as he emerges from the shadows. “I could have killed you with how long it took for you to notice my presence.” He pauses, eyebrows drawing together. “The light was on.”

Normally I’d have some kind of comment, some kind of joke that offers a more peaceful situation. “I know.” It’s a flat response. “I think on some subconscious level I knew,” I drop my gaze away from him, “I knew I was okay.” That sounds dumb. “I mean...I think I knew it was you so I knew I was okay.” Yeah, that wasn’t anymore eloquent. “That doesn’t make sense, but if you get to be confusing, I do too.”

“Confusing? There’s nothing to understand.” Curt. Simple. Dismissive.

I frown. ‘Nothing to understand’. Right, because there’s nothing confusing about how quickly he decided to dismiss me just to bring me some obscenely sentimental gift. “If you’re mad at me, you should at least tell me why.” I press my lips together. “At least that way I’ll know if I need to apologize or kick your ass.”

At that, he presses his lips together, corner of his mouth threatening to tilt upwards. “You would kick my ass?”

Great, even when he’s easing he has to be annoying. “I could.” There is no universe in which I could take him in a physical fight. “On a good day.” I let out a breath, doing all I can to not focus on his expression. Awkwardness settles in my chest as my eyes land on my bed. I sit down, trying not to let my shoulders slump tiredly as I stretch my legs across my bed. “You’re not having a good day.”

“My day is fine, I’m just not naively cheerful like you,” his words turn sharp, “Or Jesper.”

Weird addition. “Jesper’s not cheerful, he’s just drunk.” I let go of the ‘naive’ part, deciding to focus on the bigger picture. “And I’m not as naive or joyful as you think I am.” I’m not sure if I mean that as a rebuttal or just a fact. “I have bad days too.” This isn’t the kind of conversation I should have while this tired. “I could be less cheerful if you’d like.”

He’s so silent I momentarily wonder if he’s left. “No.” It’s not much, but I take it. Straightening my back, I pull my legs beneath me, intentionally creating space. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ah, blatant rejection. It would sting if I was less in the right. “Maybe you’ll be less weird then.”

“I am not being weird.” At least I’m getting some kind of reaction from him. “You’re the one who--”

“Who what?” Finally--progress.

Kaz sighs, turning slightly. “You’re the one who decided to ignore me after we met with the contact.” I part my lips, ready to retort, but no words come. He did pick up on my slight annoyance, and he reciprocated it in a much larger way.

He can never know that this all came from some ridiculous, territorial--partial jealousy. “I didn’t mean to ignore you,” partial lie, “I’m just kind of in a weird place today, I’m tired.”

“Not too tired for Jesper, it seems.”

What? Is that what this is about? “What? All I did was sit there--he’s a touchy drunk and I just happened to be next to him.”

“You laugh with him,” he says this blankly, “You can touch him.”

The edge of unsafe territory cuts into me at an odd angle. Is this about him? Is he really tormenting himself over something so asinine to me when it comes to him? I’d rather have him than all the physical touch in the world. The book on the nightstand feels closer to me, growing by the prospect of its significance alone. That gesture, that’s more intimate than anything Jesper and I did downstairs.

“So?” I straighten my back slightly. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

He presses his lips together. “That’s the problem--anyone can manage meaningless contact…” The silence is louder than the words that came before it. Oh. I guess I’m not the only one who gets just a little jealous in an unwarranted way. “What if you were hurt? What if you were hurt and we were alone and you needed someone to help you and I couldn’t?” He lets out a sigh, a sound too tired for me to associate with him. “You say you don’t care now, but you’ll grow tired of it--the only life I can offer.”

Inej’s words about the similarities between Kaz and I echo in my mind. “Sometimes I don’t like when things are going well because I don’t know how to be truly content, fully happy.” Saying this twists my stomach. “I don’t know how to trust good things, so whenever there are good things I think about all the ways I could ruin something and then I do.” I take a breath. “I’m not saying that things are particularly good for you or that you’re happy, but I am saying that maybe you shouldn’t think three steps ahead when there’s nothing to think ahead about.” I regard his expression carefully, but nothing has changed. “I told you the only thing I want is to know you, and that’s not going to change.”

“Y/n,” his voice is low, “I am not rain--I can’t promise you anything.”

I scratch my knee, dropping my gaze. “For once I don’t want rain.”

Kaz sighs. “Get some sleep.” Something about the way he’s speaking is authoritative but it lacks any weight. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I frown freely, “Kaz--”

“You look tired,” he mumbles, “You need rest.” He’s using this as an excuse to escape his feelings, but he’s already given me more than I expected. Greed ruins things, but then again, so does selflessness. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“For the job?”

Something strange crosses his features as his expression teeters on shifting. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, a little more certain.

The response doesn’t satiate me. “Kaz--”

“I may not be the rain, but I’m capable of making promises as well.” There’s something final about the way he says this, but it doesn’t feel cruel.

Maybe I’d protest if my eyelids were less weighted. “Goodnight, Kaz.”

My head falls against the pillow. I’m not sure if he replies, too lost in the drawl of sleep before he can even close the door.

General taglist: @theincredibledeadlyviper, @grishaverse7 @benbarnes-supremacy @tranquilitymoon @kaitlyn2907 @lunamyangel @christinawxxx @deceivedeer @real-mbappe @tonks33

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone show #my works #shadow and bone netflix #six of crows fic #soc imagine #soc fic #sab fic #kaz brekker imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x reader

209 notes · View notes

juniorgman187 · 3 years

Text

Any Day Now (Reid Fic)

A/N: Plz imagine being impregnated by season 10 Spencer Reid. WHEWW CHILE

Summary: Reader’s pregnancy finally takes its toll on her, leaving both Spencer and Reader to navigate through rough waters from miles away. Category: Fluff, Soft-soft-soft angst, One-Shot Pairing: (POV)Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Content Warning: Pregnancy Word Count: 3.2k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

At first, it was nothing I couldn’t handle.

Multiplied mood swings? Understandable, her hormones were everywhere.

An ever-changing appetite? Great, at least now it wasn’t such a hassle for her to decide where to eat.

A suddenly much tighter FBI vest? Well, that’s what the adjustable velcro straps were for.

Again, nothing that I hadn’t already planned for. Even before I delved into parenting books galore, I had a pretty good general idea of what to expect. Not only because of JJ’s earlier pregnancy or Kate’s recent one, but more so because of my extensive knowledge of the human anatomy. This made riding the storm of (y/n)’s pregnancy easier ... until it didn’t.

It was somewhere in her 35th week that things finally got the best of her.

There was a linear increase of events that suggested things were taking a turn for the worse, so I slightly anticipated a steep decline to occur at any moment. For instance, soon after (y/n) started showing, I began to lose count of how many times I had to insert my hand between her seatbelt and her bump to create a gap just big enough so that the belt wouldn’t have such a suffocating restriction on her. Nor could I fully account for all the hours of sleep she’d lost tossing and turning, just trying to find a comfortable position where she wouldn’t be crushed by her own weight. And I certainly couldn’t remember, not even with my eidetic memory, how many times she’s almost walked out of the house completely barefoot after getting frustrated with her inability to put shoes on by herself.

In some sad way, I knew she wished to regain some normalcy in her life. Not that she regretted motherhood, but that she wished she didn’t have to experience so many small inconveniences that summed up to something larger than the life she was helping come into fruition.

She just wanted to drink coffee again without running the risk of a miscarriage. She wanted to climb up a flight of stairs without getting winded by the first few steps. She wanted to put on a tight shirt without looking exceptionally overweight. And most of all, she just wanted to keep working.

If she had to go to hell and back to stay in the BAU while pregnant, then to hell and back she went.

My wife, as stubborn as ever, had made me - and the entire team - promise not to baby her as soon as we revealed that we were expecting.

“I don’t want any of that ‘but you’re pregnant’ crap, got it?” She narrowed her eyes darkly at all of us, pointing an accusatory finger. “Anything you can do, I can do pregnant.”

And from that day on, she did what she vowed to do, what I knew she could do. She still chased after unsubs, shot all the bad guys, arrested the felons, but eventually - inevitably - it wore down on her.

The easiest effect I could identify was her drowsiness. It used to take her a while to fall asleep on the jet, and sometimes, she’d stay awake the entire flight. But after the grueling hours she’d endured during her pregnancy, we would barely board the plane before she knocked out. I think falling asleep in the seats gave her the comfort she couldn’t find lying horizontally in a bed. No one said anything, though, because she’d already made it explicitly clear that she didn’t want us to pay her any special treatment, which I understood. Nobody likes to be pitied, but after today’s incident, this went far beyond pity.

It was just plain concern.

“The doctor said I’ll be fine.” She grumbled, waving me away with a flick of her hand. However, seeing as she was currently lying in a hospital bed, donning a gown that only partially hid from me all the wires and pads that stuck to her body to monitor her health and relay it to the machines - she wasn’t fine. And I needed her to know that I wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was the team. (I didn’t tell her this because she would’ve quite literally took my head off, but they were all out there in the waiting room instead of working on the case).

“Emphasis on the future tense ‘will.’ You will be fine, but right now, you’re not.” I prepared myself to deliver the news I knew she didn’t want to hear. My voice became significantly quieter, reaching such a low decibel I wasn’t sure she’d even hear it, but maybe that was by design. She didn’t want to hear it as much as I hated to say it. “Maybe you should consider going on maternity leave now.”

Immediately, my wife shook her head with the biggest pout I’d ever seen. I could see it in the way her lip quivered that she was about to cry, no doubt because of the hormones, but especially because this job was her last piece of normality. She clung to it because it was all she had left to remind herself that she was still, in some capacity, the woman she was before.

“Spencer, please.” She begged, as if I could do anything. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”

I pursed my lips and looked away for a second to hide my own emotions. Seeing her cry was never easy, but being the cause for it made this even harder. I felt the formation of a lump in my throat and the pricking of tears in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I croaked. “But I can’t let you keep risking your health,” I explained, neglecting to voice the final part of that sentence. ‘Or our baby’s.’ But I didn’t say that. How could I? It would’ve only guilted her further.

“Your blood pressure’s getting higher,” I explained, keeping my eyes steady on hers, not letting them stray to the machine that she clearly didn’t know how to read. But with one glance at the numbers, I already knew they weren’t good. I didn’t lead on just how bad they were, though. “You fainted today, and if you’d landed even a little bit differently, you would’ve ended up with a lot more than just a few scratches on your stomach.” That was the extent of my guilt-tripping. It didn’t feel right coming out of my mouth, but it was the only way I knew she would understand the severity of the situation.

“You were already planning on going on maternity leave next week, what’s a few days earlier?” I asked, briefly referring back to her obstetrician’s recommendation of not flying after her 36th week.

We both agreed that after week 36, she’d take her leave of absence since she couldn’t join us on the jet anyway. It was our ‘compromise.’ If she insisted on still going in the field, then she had to listen to the doctor’s orders and not fly for the last month.

“Spencer,” She whispered again, this time with tears running down her cheeks at the bat of her eyes. With the pad of my thumb, I gently wiped them away, wishing I’d never caused them to be there in the first place. “I can’t do this anymore.”

She never let on how difficult things had become for her. She never said it’s too much (and it must be too much some of the time). So when she finally admitted the burden her pregnancy had created, I could already sense its arrival. So without a second wasted, I pulled the guest chair right up next to her bed and sat in it while reaching for her hand. Despite the presence of the pulse oximetry on her index finger, I still took her hand between both of my own, not minding the gap that the device created.

“You are the strongest woman I know. There aren’t many pregnant women out there who can do what you’ve done these past eight months. They wouldn’t even think of it.” We shared a brief laugh, which lightened the atmosphere enough to encourage me to continue. “You are bearing our child, (y/n). Nobody else gets to do that. Not me. Not another girl. Just you. It’s only you who can truly give for our baby right now and you’re -you’re my girl ... and right now, I need you to take care of our girl, okay?”

She nodded rapidly with still glistening eyes. For the first time, that day, she stopped thinking her job was as an agent and started knowing her job was as a mother.

And a damn good one at that.

_ _ _

If there was anything I’d learned over the past years, it was that I should never expect my wife to follow the rules. Today was no exception.

She should’ve been in bed right now, taking it easy, but instead, she was standing right beside the jet, saying goodbye to each and every one of us before we boarded.

This would be our first flight without her.

“You take care, mama, okay?” Morgan told her, kissing her cheek before waving goodbye.

“I’m gonna miss you so much.” Kate sighed, engulfing (y/n) in a hug that I knew couldn’t have been comfortable with each of their bumps in the way, but they relished in it anyway. If I didn’t know any better, it looked like Kate was about to cry. Maybe that’s because their dynamic was different than any other. Their simultaneous pregnancies meant that they knew one another’s struggles far better than any of us could, so granted, it would be hard for Kate and (y/n) to be away from each other. They’d been in this journey together after all, in a way I couldn’t have been.

“Oh,” JJ sighed happily, taking (y/n) in her arms and swaying gently from side to side. “You are going to be the best mother ever.”

“Said the best mother ever.” (Y/n) remarked, laughing bittersweetly. It was something in her smile that let me know it was just for show.

Then, in one of the rarest moments of history, Hotch hugged (y/n), earning a slightly more real smile from her.

“Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered.

Not even a second after they pulled away did Rossi wait to take (y/n)’s face in his hands and plant two kisses, one on either cheek.

“If you need anything, you call us.” He ordered, mimicking a drill sergeant.

And though, I wasn’t ready, I found myself making my way to her, getting ready for one of the hardest goodbyes.

She wrapped her arms around my torso and let her head press against my heart. “I don’t know how I’m gonna do this without you.”

For the first time that night, she wasn’t faking a smile or putting on a face. I knew when she was saying goodbye that she was only laughing and grinning for everyone else, but underneath it all, she was experiencing a great sadness that no one else could understand. Everyone was just as excited as we were for this baby, if for no other reason than I was finally going to have a family of my own. That I’d finally found the people who were going to be there for me forever. And maybe it was that knowledge, the knowledge of how happy this baby made others, was the reason she never let it show just how hard it was for her. Otherwise, it’d ruin the fantasy. And so she wore happiness like a mask to hide the profound pain that would’ve wounded our spirits.

“Hey, I’m not leaving you forever,” I whispered somberly, hugging her a little tighter. “And if anything happens, I’m just a phone call away.” As much as I tried to believe my words, neither of us could find the truth in it. Even I knew I wasn’t just a phone call away. I’d be miles and miles and miles away from two of the best things that have ever happened from me.

She inhaled sharply and pulled away from me, wiping the tears from her cheeks with the hope that I hadn’t already seen them. “I should probably let you go now.” She laughed lightly.

Our bodies parted, but I had yet to let go of her hand. I shook it up and down gently as I told her, “I love you.”

She shook my hand back in just the same manner. “We love you, too.”

A smile crept onto my face after the immediate realization of what she meant.

My girls.

At last, when I walked up the steps to the jet, I finally let go of her hand at the last moment possible, and even after we released hands, our arms stayed outstretched for a passing second as the distance between them got further and further. With the warmth of her hand leaving mine vacantly cold, I watched as she replaced it on the very top of her stomach, as if to say, “We’ll be okay.”

_ _ _

“Reid?”

I refocused my vision to Morgan who was calling my name. From the look on his face, I realized he probably tried to get my attention multiple times before this.

“Sorry, what did you say?” I shook my head to clear my mind, but it didn’t work. A part of me was still in another world, lingering in thought.

My mind would never shut up about her, but it seemed like today, it was firing all these things at me at 2x speed. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact event that I felt guilty for, but really - take your pick. It could’ve been anything, it could’ve been everything.

It could’ve been the fact that I was here and she wasn’t. It could’ve been the fact that in those last moments I saw her, I realized just how strong she was being this entire time, and how I was asking her to be even stronger, as if the weight of the world wasn’t enough. It could’ve been the realization that she was struggling this entire time, but never asked for help, thinking that she’d be a burden - the very thing she made us promise not to let her be. That is the reason after all, that she told us not to let her pregnancy be an excuse for anything. Because if she didn’t contribute anything, then she’d be holding us back - she’d be dead weight. I knew that, and yet, what did I do?

Nothing. I walked away and boarded that fucking jet like a brainless idiot.

I should’ve stayed with her.

Morgan’s eyes turned to slits while he tossed the manila folder onto the table, seemingly setting it aside so it wouldn’t be a distraction from his question. “What’s going on, man?”

I shrugged, pretending not to know exactly what he was talking about. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just zoned out, that’s all.”

Clearly exasperated, he said, “Come on, man. Don’t do that. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Whether it was defeat or a sweet surrender, I tucked my hands in my pockets and let my head hang low, eyes glued to the ground. Unexpectedly, I was sniffling and wiping my nose before I could register that tears were already coming. “I’m just worried about her.”

It felt stupid to admit, especially considering I saw her only 8 hours, 37 minutes, and 12 seconds ago. But the absence of her and our baby was growing more and more apparent with every passing moment I spent in this office without her. Usually, she would be here to keep me company, bothering me while I located the comfort zone - not that she ever really did bother me. I quite liked her presence.

Sometimes, when I was left alone, the room would get too quiet, and it’d just be me and my thoughts. And maybe she knew how scared of my own mind I was when it wandered, so she never let me be alone with it - never let the room get too quiet. She would talk and talk and talk, and I could never get tired of listening. Her voice was like white noise. If she was here, things would be as they always were. I would be standing at the map, and she’d no doubt be sitting in a chair, rubbing gentle circles around her protruding stomach as I felt her watching me intently.

“Found it.” I would say, drawing a big red circle around the zone.

To which she would say, “You’re a genius.”

Sure, I’ve been called ‘genius’ a million times before, but it never felt the same as when she said it.

Morgan could see the invisible pain in my chest, and he pulled me in by my shoulder to wrap his arm around me. It might not have looked like it, but it was the most reassuring hug he could’ve given me. I can’t explain it, but it felt like (y/n)’s warmth and love had possessed his body and he was radiating it now.

“I know it’s scary, man, and honestly, we all wish we could be with her right now. But trust me when I tell you she’s not alone.” He treaded carefully with his words, and I could tell there was something he wasn’t saying but that wanted me to figure out.

I didn’t even have to verbalize my question because soon enough, when Morgan pulled back, his phone began to ring.

“It’s Garcia.” He told me, though he didn’t answer the call, which was weird enough. But then he gestured to the computer on the table, and so I half-heartedly watched as the screen changed from the blue background to a video call with Garcia.

And who else would be sitting beside her but my wife?

“Look who I’ve got with me!” Garcia squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly.

“You’re supposed to be on bedrest.” I playfully scolded her.

“I was! I was, I promise. But after I said goodbye to you guys, I went home and got four hours of sleep, and then I went to my doctors appointment, but then when I was driving home, I thought why would I go back there when I’ve got everything I need right here?” She motioned around Garcia’s lair, even lifting up a hospital-go bag that Penelope no doubt compiled just for her. If there was anyone I trusted to take good care of her, it was Garcia.

Like I said before, I learned to expect (y/n) not to follow the rules. So naturally, she found a way to still work even on maternity leave.

At this point, the rest of the team neatly filed into the room, erupting in cheers of excitement at the sight of (y/n) in the bat cave.

“Is everything okay?” JJ worriedly asked.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine! Baby looks good, my blood pressure’s getting better, so we’re doing okay.” She smiled proudly, and so did I. That was her first appointment on her own, and though it couldn’t have been easy, especially this late in her term, she did it anyway. Because that’s my girl.

“When are you due, again?” Kate asked (y/n), earning an enthusiastic, “Doctor says if she’s on time, New Year’s Eve!”

It never failed to make me smile whenever she brought up her due date. She was always excited to proclaim that our daughter might be brought into the world at the exact time we brought in the new year.

“But if I’m early, it could be any day now.” She explained.

Here’s where I had to cut in. “Hopefully not any day now! I don’t wanna miss it.”

“You won’t!” She promised through a wide grin.

Something else you should know about my girl? She always keeps her promises.

And on January 1, at exactly 12:00 - just as promised - I had the privilege of watching (y/n) deliver a healthy 6 pound and 9 ounce baby girl.

The weight of my whole world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Can you tell I love it when someone says “my girl”? I think that’s my favorite pet name ever.

taglist: @rainsong01 @calm-and-doctor @inkstainedwritergirl @rexorangecouny

click here if you want to be added to a taglist!

#spencer reid #spencer reid pregnant #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #juniorgman187 #any day now

475 notes · View notes

dreamescapeswriting · 3 years

Text

Fake Fight ~ JJK [M] [Request]

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

GENRE: Non idol Au! Normal Jungkook boyfriend, hard smut, request

PAIRING: Jungkook x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: Strong language, explicit content, teasing, dirty talk, domination, possessive Jungkook, jealousy, spanking, orgasm denial, choking, light slapping, squirting, degradation, safeword, after care, fluffy at the end.

No matter what happened between you and Jungkook during a fight the makeup sex after it was always the best. It was passionate, rough and honestly the best sex that either of you had had together so you would do anything to get it to happen again. The fights were normally pointless or really not a huge deal so it wasn't toxic whenever it happened. You both agreed that fighting over small things wasn't a huge deal to either of you. You would rather get the fight out of the way before it evolved into something major. Plus the sex always made up for 99% of it and it wasn't as though you said things to one another that would hurt each other. There were no accusations of cheating or calling one another names, or hitting one another. One fight, for example, was because you'd come home to see that he'd done nothing all day after promising to do something around the house. Both of you worked long hours so you shared the household chores between one another. Tonight was just like any other night, you were both going out on a Friday night to get a drink, cool down from the long work-week and cool off from the stresses of your jobs. Jungkook, as usual, was running late to meet you without a good reason so you decided to take advantage of this.

The club was relatively full since it was a Friday night so you had your choice of who you wanted to flirt with until Jungkook got there to see what was happening. Jealous Jungkook was always the best kind of Jungkook for you. You'd been needy all week since he'd been too busy with work to pay any real attention to you, and if this was going to be the only reason he came to you then so be it. Glancing over at the bar someone caught your eye he was 5''10 with curly blonde hair. He had this huge boxy smile on his face as he laughed at something the bartender was saying to him. Your head was so caught up in his smile you sort of got lost in your thoughts as you made your way over to him.

"Can I have a glass of pink Gin and lemonade please?" You questioned the bartender as you looked at his nametag,

"Sure thing," He nodded at Taehyung before going to make your drink.

"Thanks, Jimin," You always found that bartenders or waiters reacted better when you used their names. That was what their nametags were for.

Instead of flirting with Taehyung right away, you pretended as though you hadn't seen him. It was much easier to do it this way than to go right up to someone.

"Thanks," You whispered paying Jimin more than he needed for the drink and telling him to keep the change. That was when you turned on your heel and ''accidentally'' spilt the drink onto the floor in front of you, hitting the black classy tie-up heels you'd word that night. You'd paired them to go with the black satin wrap dress with a diagonal cut so it was shorter on one leg than the other. Black was Jungkook's favourite colour on you after all and you wanted to make him see what he'd been missing that week.

"You okay?" Taehyung reached out to take your wrist in his and you hissed at the spilt drink.

"My cousin's going to kill me, these are her shoes." You lied as you reached up for a napkin from the bar but Taehyung beat you to it and reached for the napkins instead.

"Sit, here," He pulled out a barstool and reached down to your shoes cleaning them off as he spoke to you.

"I'm Taehyung," You smiled at him sweetly as he introduced himself. He seemed sweet not to mention he was hot so he could have had anyone in the bar yet here you were setting him up to fail. You almost felt bad for him but it wasn't as if you were going to intentionally make him think there was something there. You just had to make it look like you were flirting when Jungkook walked in.

"Y/n, it's nice to meet a guy who appreciates shoes as much as me." You teased as he still continued to dry the shoe you were wearing which was already cleaned.

"O-Oh right! Sorry, I just- Your eyes-" You looked at him, tilting your head to the side confused by what he meant.

"They're really pretty," You could feel the back of your neck heating up as he paid you a compliment, you looked down at the floor with a small smile on your lips. Maybe you had to worry about him flirting with you and getting the wrong impression.

"Look Taehyung-"

"Sorry if it made you uncomfortable. I'm just not normally good with talking to people. I only came out because Jimin finishes early tonight. I don't normally do this kind of thing." You felt even worse than before but nothing was going to compare to how you would feel in a couple of seconds.

"Y/N!? What the fuck?!" The voice was so loud you could have sworn most of the club turned to look at Jungkook who was now standing in front of you. He was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans with a white button-up shirt on.

"Kookie what-"

"Who's this?!" He wasn't going to let you get a word out. The moment he'd walked into the club he saw you sitting with someone else. Someone else's hands on his girlfriend and that was all he needed to see red. That and the giant smile on both of your faces as you flirted with one another mindlessly. As though you had not a single care in the world for your boyfriend.

"Taehyung he was just helping me clean-" Again Jungkook wasn't going to let you finished. You could see how red in the face he was turning as Taehyung still had your foot in his hand so you slowly tugged it away.

"He was just touching my girlfriend," You could hear the growl in his voice so you jumped down from the stool and stood with your chest flat against Jungkook. Your hands resting on his upper arms as you tried to calm him down.

"Jungkook, look at me. He was helping me." You whispered in a calm manner, Jungkook glanced down at you before shaking his head and snapping his eyes back up to Taehyung.

"You think it's good to flirt with women who are taken!?" He was yelling once again and Taehyung looked terrified of what was happening in front of him. Jimin came back over to the side of the bar you were sitting on.

"Jungkook please-"

"No! This fucking good for nothing thinks he can flirt with you!" He pulled you by the elbow so you were standing behind him as he continued to yell out at Taehyung. As much as you felt bad for what was happening to Taehyung there was still that one part of you inside that was getting turned on by the thought of Jungkook taking this anger out on you.

"Sorry Jungkook...H-He was just so hot-"

"You are my girlfriend!" He was facing you now, Taehyung was sitting with Jimin both of them wide eyes as they watched you and Jungkook stared at one another.

"What will you do? Punish me?" That was when everything began to sink in for Jungkook, he licked the inside of his lip as he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close to him.

"Is that what this is about?" He roughly pulled on your waist and squeezed you waiting for you to answer him but you stayed silent. Wanting more than just a squeeze from him and he knew that as well.

"You're not going to answer me, baby?" You stared into his eyes, staring him down and he tuts at you before grabbing a fistful of your hair and tilting your head up.

"Is this what the little slut wants?" You nodded as much as you could with your hair in his hands and he smirked at you. His eyes cloudling over darkly as he leans down his lips just above yours as he teased you with the temptation of kissing him. But you weren't allowed to. He had to be the one to kiss you, those were his rules.

"Good little kitten," He chuckled right before smashing his own lips against yours, biting down on your lip causing you to whine out and part your lips for him.

"What the fuck?" Taehyung whispered to Jimin as you and Jungkook walked out of the club together as if nothing had happened.

"What makes you think you even deserve my dick tonight?" Jungkook questioned as he slammed you chest first into the wall. His hands ripping open the satin dress you were wearing to reveal you were naked underneath.

"Shit princess, your punishment is getting worse with each passing second," He slapped your bare ass harshly and you hissed. Bucking your hips into the wall as you heard Jungkook chuckle to himself.

"What happened to my slutty little girl out there? She's suddenly shying away?" You turned around to face him ready to come back at him with a comment but instead, you received a harsh slap across your right breast making you whimper out in pleasure as he touched you again.

"Were you trying to say something?" He asked softly as he reached up to cup your face, the mood swings would be enough to knock someone off their feet but you knew what he was doing, you'd agreed to this when you started your sex life together. There were rules and safe words so that neither of you would go too far.

"Green," You whispered to him as you knew he was checking to see where you were with all of this. The small touches of his hands on your face were his way of checking without ruining the high for you. With the confirmation he needed he gripped you by the wrist and began walking you up the staircase.

"Such a dirty whore! Dressing up and getting naked for anyone to see?" He shoved you face down on the bed and slapped you across the ass again, this time you kept the hiss back as you knew he hated when you didn't respond to him and you wanted him to be hard on you this time around.

"What makes you think I should even waste time on punishing you huh?" He was laying on top of you, his hand at your core and as ran the pads of his fingers through your folds.

"Your cunt is already dripping wet for me," He whispered in your ear before biting down roughly so you smirked at him,

"What makes you think I'm wet for you?" This earnt you a slap on the pussy making you scream out into the bedsheets, he smirked. Thankful that he'd used soundproof pads on the walls around the room so the neighbours wouldn't accidentally think he was murdering you.

"Who's it for then? That boy that wouldn't be able to make you feel the things I do?" He questioned forcing you to lay on your back and look up at him. You nodded at him and he grabbed you by the throat, softly applying a little pressure as he stared into your eyes.

"H-He can make me just as wet." He knew what you were doing but it didn't stop the anger boiling up inside of him so he applied more pressure and ground down against you. The fabric of his jeans making you moan out in surprise,

"You wanna ride my thigh princess?" He repeated the same action as before, pushing his thigh against your core as he moved it slowly and you moaned out again.

"Dirty little bitch, you'll hump anything like a real bitch in heat." He chuckled deeply before letting go of your neck and sitting on the bed. He stared at you as you stood up and held your neck,

"Ride." He ordered as he watched you stare at him, this was something you'd never tried before but from the feeling of before you wanted to experience it before.

Placing your legs either side of his thigh you straddled him slowly and bit your lip,

"W-What now?" He chuckled at how innocent you were acting and so he reached down to rub your clit softly.

"Ride it," He whispered as he locked his eyes with yours. You were already moaning out at the sudden contact from his thumb so you began bucking your hips up and down as if you were riding him instead of his thigh. The denim was making you whine out as it rubbed you in all the right ways, combined with Jungkook's fingers on your clit.

"Good girl, humping my leg like this." He chuckled darkly as you continued to pick up the pace of your hips. Whimpering and whining whenever you reached a certain spot that made your eyes roll back. It wasn't enough to make you cum the way he did but it was enough to make you cum.

"Feels so-so- good." You giggled excitedly, a smile appearing on your lips as you felt the familiar build-up of your orgasm approaching you. But once Jungkook saw that smile he waited until he knew you were about to cum and pulled you up from his lap, slapping you hard across the ass while chuckling at your whimpering state.

"Look at the mess you made on my pants, princess." His tone was condescending as he looked down at you, shaking his head at you before moving closer to you and pulled you so his mouth was against your ear.

"You're fucking mine! Do you understand that?!" He barked as he pushed you down onto all fours beside the bed, slapping you across the ass so hard it sent a tingle through the palm of his hand.

"Yes!" You screamed out, digging your nails into the carpet as you closed your eyes. Ignoring the tears that were building up in the corners of your eyes. This was nothing compared to what you and Jungkook had done before but after not touching you for so long and only coming at you roughly. You felt bad for it.

"Dirty little slut needs fucking back into her place doesn't she?" He chuckled as you nodded at him, looking over your shoulder at him as he began unbuckling his trousers.

"Face forward. I don't want to see your face." A whimper left your throat as your head went back down to facing the floor as you heard his belt hit the floor.

"See, you can be such a good girl when you want to be." He tutted, running his fingers up and down your folds as he watched you.

"Why can't you be this obedient all the time?" As he finished his questioned he pushed two fingers into you making your moan out in surprise, gripping onto the carpet at the sudden contact.

"J-Junkook." You whispered out in bliss as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you quickly. Curling them up whenever he hit that one spot that made you see stars.

"Good girl, moan out my name louder." He chuckled moving his fingers faster.

"Jungkook!" You yelled out and that was when he slapped your clit with his palm again,

"Louder." He growled out in your ear, bent over you as he continued to push his fingers in and out of you roughly.

"S-Shit!" You whimpered as your legs began to shake, your orgasm building up once again as you clenched around his digits.

"JUNGKOOK!" You yelled out as your hips bucked back trying to chase your orgasm but as soon as you bucked Jungkook ripped his hand away from you.

"Bad girls don't get to cum," He slapped you with his hand before pushing his two fingers into your mouth.

"Clean them." You nodded at him, swirling your tongue around his two fingers. Sucking them clean as you locked your eyes on Jungkook's.

"Good girl, on your knees, mouth open." Following along to what he was saying you sat back on your knees and opened your mouth. He smirked taking his cock from his boxers and tapped the tip on your tongue.

"Get me ready, princess," You knew what he was going to do, he was going to fuck your throat for talking back to him at the club not that you were going to complain. You licked from base to tip, dragging your tongue along the veins as you glanced up at Jungkook.

"Just like that, good girl." He whispered out in pleasure, rolling his head back as you continued to coat him in your saliva.

"Do you remember the taps?" He questioned as he grabbed you by a fistful of hair, looking down at you and waiting before he went on with everything.

"Two taps is a warning, three taps is to slow down and four is to stop." Once he heard you tell him he pushed himself into your mouth going slow at first until he began to build up his courage. That was when he began to piston his hips into your mouth, making you gag around the girth of his cock as you tried to fight back the tears threatening to spill out.

"My pretty little fuck doll, hmm? All pent up. Is this what you wanted tonight? A good fucking?" He slapped you softly across the cheek making you droll around him as you looked up at him. He continued to fuck into your mouth, pulling out for a couple of seconds so you could catch your breath. Droll and precum rolling down your chin as you looked up at him, panting heavily.

"So fucking hot." He grunted, getting caught up in the sight of seeing you fucked out. He thrust back into your mouth and closed his eyes tightly as he continued bucking into your mouth. Your throat contracting around the head of his cock whenever he hit too far.

"F-Fuck baby! Just like this, good girl." You moaned around him at the nickname and he chuckled picking up the pace of his hips suddenly.

Your eyes widened as he continued fucking into your throat when he normally would stop every couple of seconds to let you breathe.

"Taking me so fucking well, good little slut." You cried out around him not wanting to stop but you knew you had to. He pulled off as you struggled to catch your breath,

"You'll only breathe when I want you to." You began pumping him in your hands to try and grab more air but he pulled you off him and pushed himself back into your mouth. You gagged around him but he continued thrusting into you, chuckling as you tapped one on his leg. He knew that wasn't the warning and so did you. He moaned out in pleasure as he threw his head back fucking roughly into your throat.

Four taps later and Jungkook was away from you, his release on your hair gone as he knelt down in front of you to check you were okay. His expression was still hard as he wasn't going to break out of character.

"Don't cry baby," He winked at you, wiping away the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. He leant forward, kissing you on the forehead gently.

"You've been so good, what do you want me to do?" Your throat felt as though it was on fire but you kissed him roughly.

"F-Fuck me, I need you." He wasted no time in taking you over to the bed and laying you faced down on the bed. He squeezed your ass cheeks in his hands, massaging them to soothe them from his slaps before he spread them apart. The cold air hit your slicked cunt making you whimper out in surprise.

"You wanna cum on my cock baby?" Jungkook lined himself up at your entrance, running his tip between your wet folds,

"Y-yes." You moaned into the bed and he chuckled, plunging into you from behind with your legs together. The sudden deepness of his cock made you yelp out and he smirked,

"Such a snug tight little cunt." He grunted, slowly thrusting into you with a rough hit whenever he reached your hilt. Your hands stretched out to the sides of the beds, gripping onto the sheets as you cried out his name loudly into them.

Your whole body felt as though it was on fire as Jungkook's hands roamed freely over your body. Slapping you across the ass as he began to pick up his thrusts. Pistoning in and out of you rapidly as he could feel his own orgasm building up inside of him.

"Will you be a good girl from now on?!" He questioned looking down at you as he continued to bury himself deep inside of you. You were so lost in the clouds you'd barely remembered to speak back to him,

"Y-Yes! I'll be such a good girl," You whined out as you squirmed beneath him, your hips automatically bucking as he hit into that spot that made blood rush to your head and had your toes curling.

"Look at you squirming all ready for my hot cum," He twitched inside of you and you giggled knowing he was close, you clenched around him as he thrust into you, spreading your legs wider this time.

"Fuck you feel so good around me." He moaned out into your neck, kissing up and down the skin before biting and sucking into the base of your neck.

"You're only a good girl for my cock, aren't you?!" He slapped you across the ass again ramming into you as he grunting.

"Jungkook! C-Close." You warned him as he continued to fuck into you, spreading your legs so he could see how wet you were making him whenever he pulled out of you.

"Cum for me princess, squeeze me and milk me dry. Go on. Work for my cum." He commanded so you did, you whimpered out as he continued to slam into you, his skin slapping into yours as your eyes rolled back.

"S-Shit!" You whimpered as you clenched around him, your orgasm ripping through you as he continued to fuck you through it making it last longer. You gasped out as he continued to fuck into you, his hands repeatedly slapping against your ass as you cried out his name.

"Jungkook!" You screamed, gripping onto the sheets as he slammed into you. Your ass rose from the bed and you were on your hands and knees as you tried to move away from him but your body was fighting back. Your entire body was fighting for him to keep going, ignoring the intensity of it.

"Fuck baby, beg for my cum. Go on," A rough slap hit your ass cheek and you let out a pathetic squeak in response to him. Cumming again only this time you screamed out loudly, ripping the sheets beneath you as he slammed into you. Filling you up as you gushed around him, your juices hitting the sheets and the floor as you squirted around his cock. The euphoria of your orgasm left your body instantly and you began to whimper and cry,

"Red! RED!" You screamed out as your body began to convulse. You were shaking uncontrollably and Jungkook ripped out of you instantly, letting you sink into the mattress as you shook. Wrapping a warm blanket around you and pulling you into his arms.

"I'm here, right here. Breathe baby. Breathe." He whispered in your ear as you continued to shake in his arms. Whimpering as you came down from the intense orgasm, shaking against his touch.

"Do you need anything? Water? Hot water bottle?" You closed your eyes listening to his rapid heartbeat to calm you down. As you tried to speak you realised you couldn't so you just pointed at the nightstand. Jungkook stretched for the bottle he kept on the nightstand and you started to chug it.

"Easy," He soothed and you slowly began taking sips from it, sitting up straight as you looked at him. Your head still felt as though it was spinning and he sighed, he was disappointed in himself for taking it to the point where you screamed your safeword.

"You were such a good girl, did so well." He praised you as you laid your head on his shoulder. Watching the way his chest slowly raised and fell again to calm your own breathing down.

"That was a big one, I'm proud you got through it." He kissed the top of your head again and you whined out in disgust.

"What princess?" You looked down at the sheets below you to see them covered in him cum and you felt your body heat up.

"I'll change the sheets once I get you in a hot bath and get some hot tea down your throat." He whispered as he made you look back at him kissing your lips softly.

"You feeling up to speaking yet?" He questioned as you looked up at him, your head finally returning to the ground.

"Y-Yeah," Your voice was hoarse but you finally felt as though you could speak again so you smiled at him softly and laid your head on him.

"C-Can I have some chocolate?" He nodded at you,

"I'll make you a hot meal first though darling, and then you can have all the chocolate in the world." You smiled weakly and Jungkook lifted you up into his arms, carrying you off towards the bathroom not leaving you alone for even a second.

Tagline: @fluffyjoons @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @rjsmochii @bisexualmess007 @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1

445 notes · View notes

beauvibaby · 3 years

Text

tough decisions — j.oleksiak

a/n: finally another pcos fic, this is based around my symptoms with it, hopefully it’s relatable to most of you!!

warnings: pcos, anxiety, surgery and mentions of covid

“Hey, babe, I should be there in ten.” Jamie answered cheerfully, assuming you were calling to see how far out he was. “I’m sorry, J.” You mumbled, hiding back a groan at the pain tightening in your lower stomach. “I just don’t feel good tonight, could we reschedule?” You asked, letting out a small wince as you leaned against the counter. “Of course, are you ok? You sound hurt.” The concern in his voice only made you feel worse, you managed to hum in response, “oh.” He mumbled into the phone, clearly picking up your message.

You two had been dating for a little over six months, and now that he thought of it, he couldn’t recall a single time when you were on your period and miserable like this. “Did you want me to come over? I can bring you dinner?” He offered, waiting hopefully for your response, “actually that would be great.” You sighed, wanting nothing more than to take a hot shower and hope the cramps got better once you ate. “I’ll unlock the door for you, I’m going to take a shower.” You told him, adding a soft goodbye and an I love you, he repeated the sentiment, a frown etched onto his face as he stopped to get dinner.

You had just slipped on some loose fitting clothes when you heard Jamie walk in the front door of your apartment, “Y/N?” He called out, smiling when you rounded the corner in a shirt of his that you had stolen “accidentally”. He held a bouquet of flowers in front of him along with a takeout bag from your favorite restaurant, “hi pretty girl.” He murmured when you pouted at him, “I love you.” You sighed, burying your face in his chest, “I love you too.” He chuckled lightly, kissing the top of your head. “Wanna eat something? It’ll make you feel better.” He offered, getting a huff in response, he took it as a yes and walked with you wrapped up in his arms to the table. “It hurts.” You explained with a hiss as you sat down in the chair, reaching for your food, he knew it took a lot for you to admit you were in pain, “is it always this bad?” He asked with furrowed brows, taking a bite of his food as you nibbled on yours, suddenly feeling nauseous and worried eating would make it worse. “When I get it, yeah.” You told him, going on to explain the issues you struggled with, the missed cycles, heavy cycles, cramps, all of it. If you could tell him you love him, you can tell him this.

He nodded as you spoke, absorbing the information you spit out, “m’sorry baby.” He sighed, not liking having to watch you like this. You shrugged, finally forcing some of your food down, some relief coming over you as you had something in your stomach. He didn’t push you any further as he saw the look in your eyes, the way you got quiet, he cleaned up the table, leaving you with your plate as you continued to take bites here and there. “I’m going to go change.” He kissed the top of your head before walking down the hall to your room where he knew he had a pair of sweatpants stashed away.

Well he was in there, he quickly googled what you had told him, pcos was on repeat in his mind so he wouldn’t forget it as he typed it into his phone, he read as much as he could, being sure not to be gone suspiciously long.

He got the gist of it, irregularities, heavier cramps, bleeding, mood swings, particularly sad ones.

Infertility. He pushed that one to the back of his mind, he wanted kids with you and while it was early to say that, he knew you two would figure it out when the time came.

When Jamie came out you were nearly half asleep at the kitchen table, your eyes were heavy and when you looked at him he could see the blankness in them. “You can go home, Jamie, I’m probably just going to go lay down.” You sighed, standing up and clearing your spot. “No, I wanna stay with you.” He answered instantly, giving you a soft smile as spun to face him. “Really?” You couldn’t help but grin, catching him off guard, “of course.” He rolled his eyes with a smile, out stretching his arms for you. “Good, sometimes I’m scared to be alone when it hurts so much.” You whispered up to him, pecking his lips when he leaned down to you. “You know you can call me whenever, even if I’m on a roadie. I’d call you back as soon as I saw it.” He explained to you as you pulled him along towards your bedroom, you nodded as a cramp started up.

“Come here.” He demanded gently, flopping down on the bed and pulling you with him, he adjusted you so you were laying on top of him. He lightly began massaging your lower back, feeling you relax into him. “That feels good.” You hummed, blindly running a hand through his hair, knowing he loved when you did that. He smiled, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“J?” You asked after a while, he’d stopped rubbing your back once you didn’t feel the pain anymore, “yeah?” He shifted slightly, careful not to move you too much. He turned his head to meet your eyes where you were resting on his shoulder. “I left out one thing about it.” You sighed, shuffling yourself to be sitting up more, your boyfriend nodded, although he already knew what you were going to say, he wanted to let you say it. He rested his hand in your lap for you to play with. “Go ahead baby.” He assured you, when you met his soft caring eyes you couldn’t help but get emotional. “It’s super common for pcos to cause infertility and I know we’re not there yet but you deserve to know now, and if–“ you stopped to breathe and the tears started flowing. He rushed to sit up with you, “there’s no ifs, I’m here for the long haul, ok?” He assured you, cupping your face to keep you looking at him. “I already knew that baby, I looked it up while you were eating.” He added, frowning when you cried harder. “You looked it up?” You sniffled, “that’s so sweet!” You groaned, hugging him tightly. He sighed into your hair, “I think you need some sleep.” He laughed, feeling you nod against him.

“Goodnight baby.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead as he laid down with you, relishing in the small smile on your lips as you finally felt at ease for the night.

***

Time had passed, and you both fell into a routine, eventually moving in together once you hit the one year mark. And that was already some time ago.

But over the last few months you both had noticed a change in your symptoms and decided to schedule an appointment with your doctor.

***

Jamie got out of his truck the second he got your text that said you were coming out, due to covid protocols put in place, he was unable to come in with you for your appointment, which made you even more on edge than you thought it would. You figured you’d done it plenty of times before, but knowing that he couldn’t come inside was terrifying.

He watched the doors of the medical center with concern as he rubbed the back of his neck, when he saw you walk out, eyes darting to find him as you shoved your mask into your purse, tears already pricking the corner of your eyes. He stepped forward, taking his weight off the side of his truck as you spotted him, “hey, hey, Y/N.” Jamie mumbled as you wrapped your arms around him in a shaky hug. He felt his heart clench as you cried into his shirt, “baby, talk to me.” He spoke gently, pushing you back enough to meet your eyes. “Surgery.” You squeaked out, you both knew it was a possible outcome, having done the watch and wait method for over a year. He listened intently as you recited nearly everything word for word that the doctor had said.

***

That was three months ago, a simple surgery that plenty of people have and it goes smoothly, turned into a three month process, between the pre op, and the scheduling, and the ultrasounds.

But now, now it was finally time for you to go in, and you were terrified and calm all at once. You weren’t scared for the anesthesia, or for the actual removal of the cysts, you were worried that something would go wrong and they’d have to remove your entire ovary, granted that would still leave you with one, but that didn’t make it any less disheartening.

The doctors had come and made their rounds, each one going over everything with you, over the statistics and the possible complications, only furthering your anxiety. When your gynecologist came in, dressed in her scrubs and ready to have you wheeled off to the operating room, she could see the way you were panicking and squeezing Jamie’s hand tightly. “I know she’s going to be put to sleep, but is there something she can have to take the edge off?” Jamie asked as you looked over with a pleading face. “Yes, of course.” She came over and rested a hand on your shoulder, “you’re going to do great.” She assured you, giving Jamie a reassuring smile as well. The second she left the room you burst into tears, “no baby.” He gave you a soft smile, pulling his mask down to kiss your forehead, “it’s going to be ok, no matter what happens. You’re so tough.” He wiped under your eyes, looking over as the anesthesiologist came in, along with a nurse, “I’m going to give you something to take the edge off, you should feel it pretty quickly alright?” He explained, waiting until you agreed to connect it to your IV.

Jamie watched as you took a couple of deep breaths before looking at him with a much calmer face, he held in a chuckle, “you feeling it baby?” He asked you, giving you one last hand squeeze, you nodded lazily. “Yeah.” You answered, already feeling sleepy, he couldn’t help but smile at how girlish it was making you act, “alright, I love you.” He reminded you with one more kiss to the forehead as they popped the brakes off the bed, “I love you.” You repeated as you stared up at the ceiling, he could tell you had a kind of blank face under your mask. He was just glad to see you not freaking out, as he felt the anxiety transfer to him as they rolled you away, leaving him in the empty room to wait for you.

It felt like an eternity to him, as he knew the surgery was only supposed to take thirty or so minutes, but he also knew they wouldn’t tell him anything until you were already waking up in recovery.

That was nearly three hours later, and he literally jumped to his feet when the doctor came in. She assured him everything went as good as she expected, it was just more difficult to get too, nothing went wrong and you were coming out any moment. He thanked her repeatedly as he felt his heart rate settle, after staring at a wall for so long, he turned to Google and that only worsened his anxiety on why it was taking so long.

When they finally brought you in, you still hadn’t seen the doctor because you had been so out of it, so you instantly looked at him with wide eyes, more awake now. “You did good, baby, don’t worry.” He assured you, standing beside the bed once they locked it in place, the nurse smiled as she charted everything on the computer beside you. “Are you Jamie?” She asked with a giggle, making your face heat up under your mask, “yes.” He answered, not tearing his eyes off you as he could see the puffiness in them from your breakdown earlier. He laced his hand with yours, rubbing it reassuringly as you sighed in relief. “She was asking for you before she could even keep her eyes open.” The nurse told him, earning a soft chuckle from his mouth. “Sounds like her.” He hummed in agreement, tuning into the nurses words as she started telling you what you needed to do before they would let you go, both of them surprised when you did them instantly, the doctor signing off on your release as you seemed more than fit to go home in the care of Jamie.

He was more than attentive to your every need, almost to the point where you got annoyed, but you knew he meant well so you let him do whatever he thought you needed.

You were extremely grateful to have him here with you, knowing that just because you’d gotten it fixed this one time, doesn’t mean it won’t come back. He didn’t let you think like that for long as he brought you back to the present with a gentle kiss to your temple as you leaned on his chest. “S’proud of you.” He mumbled, even though you didn’t do anything, he knew it took a lot for you to make the decision to do this. You didn’t have to answer as you curled further into him, a silent thank you for everything.

taglist: @boqvistsbabe @tortito @2manytabsopen @heybarzy @barzysreputation @yzas-stuff @iwantahockeyhimbo

#Jamie Oleksiak #Jamie Oleksiak imagine #Jamie Oleksiak fic #imagine #imagines #big rig #nhl

190 notes · View notes

comfortwriting · 3 years

Text

The Little Things - B.W

Masterlist, Writing Prompt Masterlist, Requesting Rules

Bill Weasley x Fem Reader

Requested/About: After the Wizarding war and the death of his younger brother, Bill Weasley focuses on the little things in life and realises that life is too short to waste it; the death of his brother gives him the confidence and courage he needs to confess his love to Y/N.

Warnings: Mention of death, blood, swearing, mention of weight loss.

"I miss you Bill" you sighed down the phone "Are you sure you can't make it?"

Bill held the strange muggle device in his hand, both guilt and fear consuming him "Yeah" he replied, "But I will next time, I promise."

You knew this was a lie, and although it hurt, you couldn't stay mad at him - Bill had every right to shield away from the world, question everyone's intentions, and stay closer than ever to his family, but you knew that over time, it would only make things worse.

When you first heard the news of Fred's death, like many others, you were gobsmacked. The tragedy of his death changed everything - especially the man you loved most. Bill could no longer see the world in colour, he hated to smile, he couldn't laugh, looking at George felt worse than any injury he had suffered at work. He felt alone, broken, guilty, and worst of all, he didn't feel like himself anymore.

He lost motivation and passion for his job and couldn't bring himself to leave his house, even talking on the phone sometimes became too much for him, and your letters piled up on his windowsill, all read and crumpled, his replies screwed up into parchment balls scattered across the floor.

"Look after yourself, Bill." you said softly "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Y/N."

Bill felt relieved to finally come off the phone, but the crippling loneliness had hit him like a curse. Hanging up the phone and placing it back on the stand, his mother Molly, watched him, studying his scarred face.

"She cares for your dear, please don't push her away," Molly called out softly, approaching her firstborn and stroking his long hair which was pushed back into a messy ponytail, his dangling fang earring started to swing.

Bill nodded, too ashamed to look his mum in the eye "I know" he replied "Everything is just so different."

The familiar tears pooled into Molly's kind eyes, her lips trembled, the sight of Fred's dead body flashing back before her eyes. "It's strange not having him here, it's too quiet, but don't blame yourself" she cried "He died with a smile on his face."

Bill shook his head, tears of his own ran down his hot cheeks "I'm his big brother" he cried "It was my job to protect him, I can't lose anyone else."

Molly held her son close, crying and shaking her head "You aren't to blame, Bill, please don't let this take over your life, Fred wouldn't like it, none of us do."

"But I'm - I'm terrified."

"I know you are dear, but death is part of life, you can't let death stop you from living your life to its fullest." Molly sighed as Bill pulled away from the hug.

"I'm trying, I really am, mum."

Bill walked away and went upstairs into his bedroom, photographs his brother Charlie sent him of Dragons flying and breathing fire didn't evoke a smile or happy memory, instead he wanted to rip them off the walls and curse himself for not being by his little brother's side on the night he died. Bill felt useless, a waste of space, he felt as if he was the worst wizard in the world, he kicked the parchment balls across the floor and fell onto his knees, crying, talking to Fred who couldn't hear him or respond.

After your last phone call, you went days, weeks, and months without hearing from Bill. Your phone didn't ring, your owl didn't bring any letters with his handwriting on, and from what you heard, he had been fired from his job. You rang every day, but as time passed, you rang once a week, then once a month, then not at all. You stopped writing to him, you felt like you had made him worse like you had scared him off so badly that he felt too pressured to talk to him, but your gradual absence only made Bill feel worse, he felt as if he pushed you away, doing what his mother told him not to.

Maybe Bill wanted and needed a fresh start, away from you and away from everyone, perhaps he took a break and went to Romania to visit Charlie who took his mind off things with work. Part of you wanted to storm over to him, bang down the door and take him under your wing whether he liked it or not, but the bigger part of you felt like leaving him alone was the right thing to do.

Reaching your parchment and dipping your quill into your ink pot, you began to write to Molly, if you weren't able to care for Bill, you still wanted to watch over him from a distance, something Fred did when he wasn't comforting his twin, George, who didn't know he was there.

Molly,

I miss you, I miss everyone, I miss Bill.

I've tried reaching out to him but I don't think he wants to talk, I want to help, to comfort him, and do anything I can to bring a smile on his face, but I think he would rather be alone - and that's okay, I respect his wishes, but I just need to know how he's doing.

I can't tell you how strange this all is, I can imagine you can't put this all into words either, I am so so sorry for your loss, Freddie... Fred was the funniest person I've ever met and he always made me feel better, even if I wasn't in the mood for his pranks or jokes.

I want to be here not just for Bill, but for all of you. I want you to know that you can write to me, even ring me if you need anything (Arthur isn't the best with the telephone, but Bill has somehow mastered it, but I can understand your disapproval so writing back is fine) I miss you, I miss The Burrow too, spending my school holidays under your roof were the best times of my life and it's one of the worst things about being a grown-up.

Please let me know if you need anything or if there is anything I can do, please send everyone my love, I can't imagine what you're all going through.

Nothing but love,

Best Wishes,

Y/N.

Wiping the tears from your eyes, you folded up the parchment and placed it into the envelope, pausing before you sealed it with wax. Looking over on your right and focusing on the photograph in the picture frame of you and Bill posing as Head Girl and Head Boy, with big smiles on your faces and your badges sparkling against the flashing of the camera. This was the only picture you had of you and Bill, and although you got comfort watching that moment in time replay over and over, it made you feel sore inside, causing you to wince.

Picking up the picture frame and holding it in your hands, you removed the back of it and pulled out the picture, putting it inside of the envelope. Setting the frame back down, you finally sealed the envelope and watched the hot dripping wax mould into shape, cool down and dry. You picked up the envelope and walked downstairs, meeting your owl by the window in your front room.

"Please post this for me," you said softly "It's very important and precious."

Your large fluffy owl tilted its head before taking the letter in its mouth and flying out of the window as you opened it, watching them fly away in the distance, you couldn't stop yourself from reminiscing about Bill and the memories you made together as teens - little did you know, whilst Bill curled up on his bedroom floor, he too was thinking exactly the same thing.

"Bill!" You grinned, running over to him and hugging him, admiring his hair "Your hair has grown so fast! I love it!"

Bill smiled "I'm glad you like it, mum can't wait to see the day I chop it all off."

You ruffled his soft, shoulder-length hair and looked at his new timetable "oh nice!" you chirped "looks I don't have Herbology on my own after all!"

Molly opened the envelope and read your letter, covering her mouth to keep her cries silent, your kind words taking weight off her chest and placing a caring arm around her shoulders. She picked up the photograph and tears pricked at her eyes, the sight of Bill so happy brought her the comfort she so desperately needed.

"You need a bloody hair cut!" Molly freaked upon her son's arrival at the station.

Bill groaned out in frustration and rolled his eyes "No I don't, mum! I like it long!"

You smirked and burst out into laughter, Molly greeted you and pulled you in for a hug, making her husband Arthur pick up your trunk. Bill's younger twin brothers stared at you, smirking, muttering to one another.

"What do you think about his hair, Y/N?" Molly asked you, hoping you would be on her side "I think if it ends up any longer Hogwarts will be sending me letters!"

You pursed your lips and couldn't stop yourself from breaking out into a grin "I quite like it."

Bill smiled at you "See! The girls love it!"

You rolled your eyes and elbowed Bill in the arm playfully.

Hearing a crash in Arthur's shed, Molly quickly lept on her feet, rushing to see what the commotion was all about and to tell off her husband for his muggle tool and plug collection, leaving behind the letter and photograph on the dinner table.

"Oh go on Y/N, give me the answers, we've been studying for hours now!" Bill begged, glaring at his now crumpled O.W.L styled mock paper.

Bill's cheeky smile and puppy eyes made you cave in faster than you liked to admit.

"Fine, here are the answers." You passed him your test papers, knowing fully well that he would be in big trouble tomorrow.

Bill walked down the stairs, tempted to pick up the telephone and ring you, but his eyes landed on the letter and photograph before the telephone. He stared at the photo, the memory as clear as day in his head.

"You'll never guess what!" You squealed.

"I've got some news!" Bill beamed, both of you speaking at the same time.

"You go first!" you encouraged him, excited to hear his news and tell him you had been made Head Girl.

"Guess who became Head Boy!" He grinned, pulling out his badge and handing it to you "Mum and Dad are going to be so bloody proud!"

You couldn't believe it, your best friend and you were head of the school - together, this HAD to be nothing more than a coincidence, it HAD to.

"Oh Bill" you grinned "that's wonderful - but -"

"But what?!"

"But this is all so strange."

"What?" His face dropped "Please don't make this about my hair, mum's sent me enough letters this term-"

"It's not about your hair you idiot!" You laughed "This is strange because I've been made Head Girl." You pulled out your badge, presenting it to Bill whilst it sat in the palm of your hand.

"No way."

"Yes, way!"

Bill couldn't sleep that night, he read the letter over and over in his head and watched the two of you posing in his mind. He rubbed his eyes so hard he could see tiny stars, opening his eyes he walked over to the mirror and stared at himself, he couldn't recognise himself anymore. His hair was straggly and hadn't been brushed in months, his facial hair was stubbly and rough, the bags under his eyes were dull and heavy, and his face had become more sunken in.

His mum was right, he couldn't stop living, he shouldn't push everyone away and shut himself off from everyone around him, he needed to keep going, no matter how hard things got, he had to keep pushing, further and further, he needed to get himself back on track.

Leaving his bedroom, Bill challenged the many steps and went into the bathroom, taking a long, warm bath. He scrubbed his skin, washed his face and hair and got out, staring at himself again in the mirror, he shaved off his ginger prickly stubble and grabbed a hairbrush. Detangling his hair and brushing it after neglecting it for so long, he picked up the scissors and slowly started to chop off his split ends and adding layers. He trimmed his eyebrows and stared at himself in the mirror, by morning he was going to get his job back, he was going to tell you how he felt, if he were to ever lose you, he would rather have a relationship beforehand, rather than settling with 'what could have been'.

Bill walked out of his room, as fresh as a daisy, in his suit, he picked up his briefcase, shocking the rest of his family, most of all his mum.

"You were right mum." Bill admitted, "I'm going to get my job back, and I'm going to see Y/N."

Y/N,

Thank you ever so much for writing to me, dear, your words have lifted me up tonight and the photo you have sent me is something I will treasure.

I know you aren't a child anymore, and I know you're an adult, but you will never be too old to stay under Arthurs and I's roof. We could do with some company, a good catch up, anything to keep our mind busy.

This home - this house - is so awfully quiet since Fred

her quill trailed off

left, the occasional door will slam and Arthur keeps wreaking havoc in his shed but the absence of Fred's laughter and his footsteps pounding up and down the stairs are so terribly missed.

Bill isn't doing so good, Charlie is doing the best out of all of us.. and George, poor George. Please do pop round for a cuppa or just for a chat, even if Bill won't come out to chat I'm sure everyone else will be so happy to see you.

Don't be a stranger, Y/N.

Love,

Molly Weasley.

Drinking your cup of tea and staring out your kitchen window, watching the birds sing and search for food in the back garden, you heard a knock at the door, finishing off your brew and placing your floral cup in the sink, you walked over to the door and opened it, lost for words at who was waiting for you.

A slimmer and more gaunt Bill stood on your doorstep, a bouquet of roses in his hand, his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and his suit looking elegant. You were heartbroken to see how Fred's death had taken hold of him physically, and you were more heartbroken knowing what he was going through mentally. For him to be stood on your doorstep, making an effort, truly was above and beyond anything you expected, and you were so proud of him.

"Bill!" You pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling your face into his neck "I can't believe you're here, I, I've missed you so much!"

Bill held you in his arms, soaking up your scent and the touch of your soft skin, the tiny pieces of his heart slowly piecing back together. He pulled away and handed you the flowers "These are for you"

Accepting the roses, you invited Bill inside and put the kettle on, making tea for the both of you, he sat himself down on the sofa, going through everything he wanted to say, feeling nervous and hoping that you would understand and feel the same.

You placed your cups on your coffee table, sitting down next to him, looking back at the gorgeous new roses sitting up proudly in their vase. Bill stared at you, studying your face as you studied the roses.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you."

You turned back around and looked into his eyes, your heart went weak and started to thump, your mind running faster than you could keep up with, you were jumping to conclusions and didn't know what to think.

"Okay" you replied nervously "What is it?"

"I'm in love with you" Bill confessed, "I always have been, and nothing really made sense until I read your letter to mum and looked at the photograph of us you sent her."

Your racing thoughts finally slowed down, you were catching up with them.

"Fred had his life stolen from him, he was young, he had years ahead of him - now nothing. I don't want to lose you, I don't want to disappear before we've even had a chance to get started."

You nodded your head slowly and placed your hand on top of his in support, and providing him with comfort.

"I don't want to lose you either, Bill."

Taglist: @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @amourtentiaa @inglourious-imagines @reeophidian @sebby-staan @a-castle-of--glass

#bill weasley #bill weasley x reader #bill weasley fanfic #bill weasley fanfiction #bill weasley imagines #bill weasley one shots #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey imagine #george weasley fanfiction #George Weasley one shot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter fanfic

216 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 3 years

Text

ilomilo

Reiner x reader

Requested by anon “Hi.. 👉👈 May I request on reiner x reader where they both fall in love with each other, but they somehow denied their feelings? Sorry its a bit weird but thank you in advance!”

Warning- ANGST, FLUFF, swearing and talks of violence, death and contemplating life

———-

You were kids. Young little children who didn’t know the meaning behind the word love. Maybe even now as teenagers, you both were still too young to know what that word meant. Or how it should feel, what it even looked like.

What was love, really? That’s the real question.

How can something so pivotal such as love be so confusing?

What was certain was that no matter what, neither of you wanted to be apart from each other. That was such a dreadful thought. It hurt to think he could leave forever and never return. With what you were doing, that was a high possibility, with him being hurt, even if you both could heal, it still hurt to think he could die and that you’d be alone.

Was that love?

No.

“Reiner you’re up,” you say with a relieved smile pulling on your lips. “How are you feeling?”

Said man pushes himself off the edge of his small bed and nods, releasing a soft sigh as his eyes searched your own body for wounds. “I’m feeling better, what about you?”

“I’m all healed now, so I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling sweetly at him but soon feeling that smile fall as your face twisted into a long and somber look. “It’s just...we couldn’t recover Bertholdt,” your voice quivers and your eyes sting. “I tried, I really tried getting him, but I couldn’t, I’m sorry.”

Reiners breath hitches and the expression on his own face matches yours, but he doesn’t hesitate to go to you to wrap you in a tight and much needed embrace. One you returned with ease as you secure your arms around his body and dig your head into his chest. “It’s okay. It’s alright,” he muttered as he stroked your back. “It’s alright.” He whispered.

Was this love? Reiner asked himself as he had you in his arms. This relief he felt deep in his soul when he saw you enter his room on the boat ride home. The fluttering feeling in his stomach as you found solace in his embrace and presence. The heart pounding feeling in his chest as he had you safely in his arms?

No.

*A COUPLE YEARS AGO*

“Hey leave him alone you assholes!” You exclaimed as you hurled rocks at the boys picking at Reiner. “Leave him alone!”

You continued to run towards the group of boys as you proceeded to throw rocks, noticing the short relieved look Reiner had on his face as he looked at you over their shoulders.

“Go away!” You continue with sneer, seeing the four boys turn around and show you their glowering faces. “Leave Reiner alone, he’s done nothing to you!”

“He deserves to be taught that he doesn’t belong in the Warrior program!” One of the boys remarks smugly, “he sucks!” He looks at Reiner and snickers. “See he’s trembling even now. He’s weak. Just like you.”

Your glare deepens and you scoff, catching the rock in your hand that you had thrown in the air. “The only weak people I see are all of you for ganging up on Reiner. Just you wait, when we become Titan shifters, you’ll be the ones trembling.”

You get ready to throw yet another rock, (a sucky attempt to fight them), but as you do, Reiner sprints forward to tackle the tallest boy to ground, swinging his fists over the boys face and angrily snapping back, “leave her alone.”

Reiner then doesn’t hesitate to get up before things could get worse, running towards you to take your hand and pull you with him as you both run away from the bullies you heard chasing after you.

You both maneuvered past people walking the streets, hearing them protest back to the both of you as you ran past them. But you didn’t let that stop either of you. You kept running until you made sure you had lost the bullies, stopping only a few minutes later and hiding away in some alleyway you happened to stumble in.

“Are you okay? You pant as you kept your hand around his. “Did they hurt you?”

Said boy shakes his head, breathing heavily and double checking that they weren’t after you to begin to catch his breath, sliding down to the ground with you still in hand. “No,” he assured you, “they didn’t get to hurt me. You got there in time.” He turns his head to look at you and he smiles sweetly. “Thank you.”

You turn your own head and answer with a mirrored smile as you slowly recover your own breath.

“How did you find me?” Reiner continues to ask.

You shrug, “my parents weren’t home so I went to your house, but your mom said you were outside. So I went to look for you. I heard them yelling and I had to check it out just in case.”

“Oh,” Reiner mouths as he looks away. “Well,” he continues to say, “I’m glad you came.”

You let out a nervous, breathless giggle and look away to hide your flustered smile and ask, “yeah?”

Reiner hides his blush and nods, “yeah.”

——

*YEARS LATER. MARLEY*

No matter how Marley treated you, “your kind”, it was a relief being home after being gone for so long. And perhaps it was true that there was no real peace being home considering you were a warrior, a Titan shifter. It came with a responsibility and had you busy for most of your time, unable to live the remainder of the time you had left the way you wanted; a peaceful life somewhere close to the ocean, or surrounded by the beauty of trees with...well...with one person.

“How did it go?” And as if thinking of that person had someone summoned him...here he was.

You peek over your shoulder to look at Reiner, letting out a small huff before you shrug and drop your head on your hands. “Same as always, arguing...my parents only appreciated that I gave them a higher status here, but that’s it.” You tilt your head up to rest your chin on your arm, peeking at Reiner coming up beside you from the corner of your eyes. “I think they would’ve preferred if I had stayed fighting that war.”

“Well, you could’ve come to my house,” Reiner says quietly, “you know my mother loves having you there.”

You laugh softly and smile before you look at the lake ahead to admire the stars that reflect on the water's surface. “Your mom is nice. A lot nicer than mine.” You sigh and look up at the stars to slowly feel your smile fall to a frown.

When Reiner noticed he pushed himself from the railing you both were leaning on and pointed his head to the grassy hill ahead. “Come on, let's go sit.”

Without hesitation, and with a small sigh, you follow him to the grassy hill, sitting close beside him and resting your hands on the ground as you watch the stars dancing on the water. Reiner notices your exhausted and gloomy mood, one that was so persistent since you returned from Paradis four years ago. He did notice that you would light up when you were with the kids, or with your friends, with him, but that happy look never lasted. The girl you had been before died in Paradis, after you couldn’t recover Bertholdt.

Reiner couldn’t help but notice that and it killed him to see you so upset. He would do anything to keep you happy. That’s all he wanted. You were only the person that gave him a reason to keep living in this shitty world….you were his reason to fight.

Was that love?

….no. Maybe.

“What did you do today?” He broke the silence.

You began tearing the grass from under your hand as you answered him. “I went to visit Bertholdt's dad, helped him around the house and I had dinner with him after I stormed from home.” You look at your hand and then let your eyes slowly drag to the side to look at his resting beside yours. “What about you?” You ask as you then drag your eyes up to his face.

“Nothing much, it feels weird being home after being gone long.”

You express a lighthearted huff of air and nod in agreement before you throw your head on his shoulder. “But at least we're home! It feels nice being home.”

“Yeah,” Reiner agrees as he, unbeknownst to you, looks at you as you rested your head on his shoulder. “It does.”

“You know,” you mutter as you slowly inch your fingers to his. “What would be nicer? If we ran away together. Live the remainder of our lives by the ocean, or in some forest. It could be in Paradis, that place is so big, they wouldn't find us.” You swallow thickly and completely secure your hold around the warmth of his hand, seeing his hand slowly wrap around yours before he rested his head on top of yours. “It may not be home, but I wouldn't mind being over there if you’re with me.” You smile softly and again you look at the stars beautifully reflected on the water.

“Where would we live?” Reiner asked.

You shrug, “we could make a cabin. A small one, by a river so we can have running water.”

Even if the suggestion was unexpected, it sounded ideal, like a nice dream. It sounded tempting. And he knew, like you did, that with the right word you’d both be willing to do it. You’d both leave everything behind and live what was left of your life secluded and together.

Reiner couldn’t help but smile faintly at that thought.

“What would we do for food?” He continued.

“Well,” you smile, “we could hunt, I like to think I’m a great hunter. And we can take seeds from here to grow our fruits and vegetables. We would raise pigs and cows.”

Reiner stays quiet, and feels himself more tempted by the idea.

“I think we’d make nice farmers,” you snicker as you pull your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze. “What do you think? Hmm? Would you run away with me Reiner?”

Said man meets your gaze and his breath hitches as he sees the genuine happiness, the softness behind your eyes. It felt like a relief seeing you like this. It made his heart race and his lips tug into a happier smile. It made his eyes fall to your lips to try and give into this heart aching temptation to finally get to know how they felt against his.

Just like you were filled with your own curiosity to finally feel his lips.

But neither of you made a move. Instead Reiner swallowed thickly and looked to the lake to admire the reflection of the stars painted on the surface. He shifted in his spot, but kept his hand around yours whilst he parted his lips to attempt and answer you.

Albeit he didn’t get the chance before Pieck and Porco interrupted your moment.

However you couldn’t help but keep thinking if this was love? The dream and plans to run away with no one else but one another. The thought of a future together?

Maybe.

109 notes · View notes

mcfreakin-bxtch · 4 years

Text

Sleep and Other Things

Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, Grinding, Fingering (with them metal fingers babbbby), Oral (f), Mentions of Masturbation (f), Sergeant Kink, Praise Kink, Cockwarming, Light spanking, Sub/Dom, Hair pulling, Pining, Sexual tension/frustration, Language, Classic Tropes (I will not apologize), Fluff

Word Count: 11K+ (I really went on on this one I’m sorry)

A/N: It’s been TOO long since I’ve written for my bby I apologize

This sucks.

Royally, royally, royally sucks.

And if you could choose from any supernatural powers at all known to man, you’d choose the power of sleep.

Because for the past few nights, it just hasn’t struck you. You’ve tried everything you can think of: punching and kicking away at the bag in front of you in the training room until your knuckles started to bruise, drinking a nice, hot cup of tea, hell even meditation. None of it seemed to work in your favor, and you wanted to punch the force that was holding you back from a full night's rest.

Please God, or you know, whatever is out there listening. All’s I’m asking a normal fucking sleep schedule, is that too much to ask?

The blaring flashes sting your eyes with every white, vicious transition of another rerun on TV. It’s the only light in the otherwise dark room, and it’s dimmed with the volume low so that every stupid little background laughter is dull instead of blaring. And judging by the big red 3:30 on your alarm clock, you’ve been awake for approximately ten hours with no hope of a fulfilled slumber. You believe this is your third night in a row.

You sigh for what seems the hundredth time, flopping onto your right side and shoving your pillow under your arm. The soft fabric and the fresh smell of your favorite laundry detergent is doing nothing to soothe your mind and your body alike, but maybe keeping up the facade that it does will lull your eyes to remain shut and your brain silent; in the back of your mind, annoyingly, you already know that it will not work.

“Fuck it.” You mutter to yourself and throw your covers off. The floor is slightly chilly against your bare feet, but not too terribly cold, and the compound is stable and quiet; more alone time for you, more time to watch the clock slowly tick by as yet another night—day you should say given the time—drags by thorough dark circles and irritable mood swings.

The door is silent as you creek it open, though it doesn’t make one sound and you’re grateful for that. No use dragging everyone down with you.

You’re not exactly sure on what you’re looking for, but it feels right to be where the food is. It’s a start, at least. The good news, too, about going to the kitchen is that it’s not that far from your room, a blessing to you now.

The hallway is dark, too dark for you weak eyes you realize as you stub your toe on a corner of a wall. “OW—oH fuckfuck what the fuckity fu—”

“Shoulda paid attention, doll.”

You whirl around mid-tantrum, hopping on the uninjured foot rather ungracefully towards the raspy voice you recognize in a heartbeat.

The root to your problem is sitting there—short, chopped dark hair, eyes that are sometimes grey and others times blue, like a storm and a ocean living and correlating together to create a beautiful color that you often dream of, and built, toned body hiding behind a black tank top and you’re going to assume matching sweatpants—with a coffee mug in his hands, sitting by the kitchen island and stifling a shit-eating grin as you wallow.

Normally, you’d be very happy to see Bucky. Over the year that you’ve been on the team, Bucky has been nothing but kind to you, even after a rocky start to the friendship. As quiet and closed off as he is, you had managed to weasel your way into his circle; you leave him alone whenever you sense he needs it, not wanting to overwhelm him. Watch TV with him on the couch when it’s just the two of you; sometimes you’d barely say a word to each other at all, happy with the comfortable silence. He jokes around with you if you manage to burn another pancake or whatever concaussion you could scramble up or he’ll invite you to have drinks with him and the others—others being Steve and, despite the pranks and banters, Sam, and so, so much more. It’s as easy as breathing, just being with him, and the comfort and stability that you find in him never fails to put you at ease.

But it’s like somewhere down the road something shifted. You don’t know when or how it happened, but when it did it hit you like a freight train. There’s a pull towards him when you catch yourself paying extra attention to the way his body moves, alerting yours with a sudden new and ferocious need; the daydreams that come from it are even better. The soft, barely there brushes as you pass by or the barely fingertip touch when you’re standing next to each other. The longing stares that makes you wonder if there ever could be more. There’s no denying that you can’t stop looking at him differently now, as more than just the friend you cherish deeply, but as someone who could become more than just.

Sometimes, you even dream of his hand between your legs.

What makes this even worse is that you’ll occasionally catch Bucky doing the same thing to you; he may be faster than you in oh so many ways thanks to his enhancements, but there are moments where you catch him looking quickly away and towards whatever was in front or next to him, eyes glaring like he’s—he’s scolding himself.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda told you when you first explained your worries to her. “That’s what’s happening.”

You shook your head, laughing it off. “Nooo it can’t be Wanda. We’re just—”

“Friends?” She smirked.

“Yes.” You defended. “Just friends. I mean maybe—maybe we’re just going through a phase, and everything will soon go back to normal.”

Wanda rolled her eyes with a smirk. “We’ll see.”

Deep down, you knew that she was right. And that terrified you. Still does, actually. Why would you want to ruin such a good thing over what may be just a stupid, silly crush?

Now, exhausted, frustrated, and hopping around like a moron in the dark, the smug look on his face heavily annoys you more than ever.

“Thanks.” You snarl.

He puts his hands up in mock surrender, easily taking in your disdained mood. “Sorry.”

You finally let your foot drop back to the ground, your toe still stinging. Bucky continues to watch you as you limp towards the cabinets and reach for your favorite mug, setting it too harshly down on the marble counter before opening the fridge.

“Try drinking tea,” he says. “It’ll be better than…Dr. Pepper.”

You shrug as you uncap the bottle and pour the sweet soda into your mug. “I’ve already tried that.” You mutter. “Nothing’s been working.”

You hear Bucky shift in his chair, hear the clicks of his metal arm as he stretches it out; he rarely does it when there’s too many people around, letting himself be free with the metal prosthetic. You feel special knowing that he’s comfortable enough to be free in your presence.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks quietly.

You lean your back against the counter and bring the cup to your lips. “Almost a full week now.”

You see him nod from your peripheral vision, straightening his back and taking a sip from his own up you didn’t realize he had until now; it smells like green tea, with a hint of something sweeter. Honey, most likely.

You expect him to ask you more questions but he stays silent as you both take small sips of your drinks. Your eyes are heavy and your body is on the verge of completely slumping against the small space behind you, but you’re still too wired to sleep—okay, Bucky was right on the soda, but you’re not going to admit that to him.

“Why are you awake?” You ask him.

He just shrugs. “Same reason as you.”

That gets you to snort. Yeah right, buddy.

“Tried sparring?” Bucky suddenly breaks the silence, causing you to jump from the intrusion.

“Sorta.” You iffley say. “Still didn’t help me much…I really don’t know what my problem is.” Liar.

He hums softly. “Well,” he puffs as he sits up from the stool. “Let’s go then.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Really?”

For such a heavy man, it still surprises you when he walks silently towards you, so quietly that if you weren’t looking you’d had no idea if he was moving at all. The familiar smell of his soap overwhelms your senses as he leans in, his left arm stretched to put his cup in the sink. You can’t help but inhale the alluring musk, which causes a shiver to run through your body.

“Sexual tension.” Wanda’s voice rings through your head.

God he really does smell good and he’s warm...stop it!

“So?” He scares you again out of your thoughts, and when you look up he’s close. He’s really close—well, closer than you anticipated for only putting away a dish. He’s looking down at you with an expression you can’t quite decipher, but that smirk of his returns and your heart flutters at the close proximity of it.

You set your now empty mug in the sink next to his with a sigh and nod your head. “Take it easy on me. I’m not exactly coordinated right now.”

Bucky only chuckles, hearty and gruff, at your warning. “Whatever you say.”

You really like the way he says it. It sounds stupid, but you do.

He leads the way to the training room, turning every now and then to make sure you’re still following—and that you don’t stub your toe again.

“Turning the lights on.” Bucky warns you just seconds before the lights blare your vision, making you wince and blink against the onslaught.

When you can finally make out the shapes moving around, Bucky is already standing in the middle of the mat, watching you with his signature smirk. You can’t help but give him a small closed lip smile of your own as you make your way towards him.

“I’m totally gonna kick your ass.” You tease with a slight slur.

He grunts, face squished as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah yeah, hurry up.”

“Don’t act like you don’t want to be here, Barnes.” You chide as you start to wrap your knuckles. “You’re the one who suggested this.”

“Doesn’t mean you gotta be a turtle about it.”

You give him the best glare you can muster as he struggles to hold in his laughter. Your grimace deepens when they finally escape, and his face is really fucking adorable when he laughs like this; without a care in the world. That makes you stare at him longer than necessary as he recovers.

“Okay I’m sorry!” He gasps, putting his hand up. “I’ll stop, I swear it.”

The scowl doesn’t disappear even as you start to adjust the strings on your sweatpants; tightening them. You know you look like a child right now with the way you’re stomping dramatically heavily towards the ex-assassin, but you’re too tired and slightly agitated to care.

“Alright,” he huffs. “Just come right at me and don’t hold back. Think you can handle that, doll?”

You smirk despite yourself and prepare a simple stance; attack. “Sure, ice bucket.”

Bucky doesn’t flinch from the playful tease. What he does is pat his chest with a closed knuckle and says, “I’m waiting.”

You watch him, take in his posture and immediately go for the legs. You’re a good agent, not the best, definitely in need of improvement, but you’re good. What you’re sort of forgetting here, a habit with him it seems, is that he is. in fact, a super soldier.

The air leaves your lungs with an oof as you land flat on your back. His hand, warm flesh that feels like is scorching your skin through your shirt, holds you down by your upper chest. You blink dumbly up at him as you struggle to catch your breath, your body jolted from its heavy, sleepless form.

“C’mon,” he says your name disappointingly. “You know better than that.”

You roll your eyes and grunt, swatting his hand away and standing yourself up. “I don’t see the point of this.” You complain. “If anything, I feel more awake than tired.”

“Oh you know what the point is.” Bucky scoffs. “Stop complaining and fight me.”

“Fine!” You growl.

The next charge at him, you honestly thought that you’d get the upper hand. Where he goes to block, you quickly change course and go for a punch. It all happens in a blink of an eye, and suddenly his metal arm is wrapped loosely around your neck in a lock, the other locking your wrists in his wide grip.

“You’re not even trying.” He breathes in your ear.

“I am.” You say through gritted teeth.

He finally lets you go with a small chuckle. It makes you angry. “If you’re just going to keep laughing at me then I’m—”

Bucky lunges at you. Your body reacts on instinct and ducks away from his attack, bouncing on your feet to the other side. The muscles in his back strain as he runs his fingers through his hair, flashing you a grin as he turns around.

“There ya ‘re.” His brooklyn accent runs thick through his praise.

That praise—and it’s not like you’ve never heard it from him before, always in playful banter—raises goosebumps and there’s no way he doesn’t notice it. You fight the rush of blood flooding to your cheeks.

“Here,” you try, bouncing around him and playfully trying to grab him, distracting yourself from your own confusing thoughts. “Just stand still and let me punch and kick at you until I pass out.”

He laughs with you and dodges your weak attempts with liquid ease. “Oh I’m sure you’d love that.”

“I would, actually.”

“You’re jus’ bein’ a sore loser.”

“So what—” You grunt as he slides to his right and pushes your hit lightly away from him. “—if I am.”

You do this for some time, aimlessly throwing weak kicks at his shins as he teases you—you’re really fucking jealous at how he seemingly floats with each bounce to his dodges. You finally manage to knip him around the ankle, causing him to wince and curse.

“Ha!” You cheer. “I bet that hur—”

Bucky takes your short moment of victory to sweep around you and kick your legs out from under you. You land ungracefully yet again on the hard mat, but this time you quickly recover and loop your legs around the arm closest to you and pull him down with all your strength. He flips hard on his back, gasping as soon as he makes contact and now you’re the one laughing at him as you have the upper hand.

“Well Barnes,” you tsk. “Looks like you’re losing your touch.”

“Don’t get cocky.” He warns as his hand flexes still in your grip. “Or else this happens.”

You blink and feel a harsh tug at the back of your neck. Everything is a blur as you feel yourself being lifted and flipped into the air, like you weigh nothing at all. Your eyes automatically shut and your body awaits for the hard impact.

It doesn’t come.

Bucky softens your fall by quickly rolling his body into yours and wrapping his arms around you, practically caging you in. Your hands reach for the first solid thing they can find, which happens to be soft skin and hard muscle. His legs cage yours between his, his hair lightly curled and there’s a strangled noise coming from somewhere and holy fuck he’s—

“You alright?” He asks, panting.

Your breaths mix together as you stare into each other’s eyes. You hear what he says, the words playing through your ears but your brain doesn’t register the nerves to actually respond to him. It feels like you’ve never been this close to him before, not like this anyway. It feels… suffocating. In such a good, intoxicating way that you don’t want him to move.

And then you realize that the reason why he must be asking that question is because he thinks you’re hurt; that strangled cry was from you.

He shifts, just slightly to adjust, that gets his arms to tighten around you for a split second. Your jaw clenches as you struggle to hide the hitch in your breath and the pool of arousal flooding between your legs.

“Y-yeah.” You finally answer, swallowing thickly. His adam’s apple bobs as he does the same, and that gets your body tingling with a familiar sensation that has your eyes widening. “I think I’m tired now.”

The second those words escape your lips you want to take them back. His eyes fall as he shakes his head and chuckles, looking shyly down as he sighs. He unwraps himself from you and holds his hand out for you to take. It takes you a moment, still reeling from—well from whatever the hell that was.

Now it feels awkward. You both can’t keep your eyes on each other, looking anywhere’s else like it’s fucking interesting. You gotta stop this.

“Than—”

“Can I—”

You both say at the same time. Bucky’s soft, harmonic—in your very humble opinion—chuckle joins yours and you shake your head to clear away the fuzziness clouding your brain.

“Sorry, uh what were you going to say?”

Bucky hesitates, and there’s something in his eyes that tells you that he’s nervous. It worries you, and instinct takes over to walk to him and comfort him.

“No it’s—,” he inhales sharply. “It’s okay. We can talk about it tomorrow, when you’re more…awake.”

“I’m plenty coherent, Bucky.” You scoff. “Just tell me. I’m your friend.”

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes; it goes without the same brightness that usually greets you and that makes your stomach drop and your heart clench with an uncomfortable grip.

“I know.” He says softly. Then his eyebrow raises in a mischievous arch. “Need me to walk you to your room?”

This time it’s you who hesitates. On any other circumstance, you would’ve immediately said yes and that would be that; no awkwardness, no tension or—or whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you.

“Um… yeah. Yeah s-sure.”

You curse yourself mentally and berate yourself to keep it together. The walk back is quicker than the walk to the training room, and a part of you is entirely grateful for it. Bucky stays close as he paddles softly through the hall until your door is in sight, and you’re standing with one hand on the handle while chewing on your bottom lip. Now what?

“Goodnight,” he says your name softly, so softly you can barely hear him.

“Goodnight Buck.” You whisper back.

He gives you one last smile and walks away, and as simple and normal as this is, it feels wrong. Like he shouldn’t be walking away, because there’s something obviously going on between the two of you and you have no idea how—well, you know one way—to fix it because you’re a goddamn coward and that smile isn’t the same smile he gives you.

You lean against your bedroom door as it shuts. Your eyes sting with unshed tears and the aching pressure between your legs is long gone, but the evidence of it sticks to your panties. Ignoring it, you hop onto your bed and fling yourself against your lush pillows, and the rest of the morning is spent with you staring at the tv screen overthinking every interaction you ever had with the man responsible for your turmoil, and fall asleep with frustration seeping through your veins.

When you come to, early afternoon you think, the ache in your pussy is too much to ignore and you cum with Bucky’s name a sigh from your ecstasy. It’s the first time you do.

–

“You look…better.”

“Thank you.”

“So what was the trick?”

I masturbated thinking about my best friend. “Training. With Bucky.”

That gets her eyebrows rising up as she ahhh’s at you. “How are things between the two of you?”

“Good.” You feign. “Really good, actually.”

“Mhmmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“Just fuck already.”

“Wanda—”

“Seriously, I’m getting pretty sick of watching you mope around like this. You’ve got to talk to him.”

You sigh through your nose, throwing your head back against the couch cushion. “I know.” You groan. “It’s just—I don’t know how, you know? I mean, what if this ruins our entire friendship? I can’t…I can’t live with that.”

Wanda purses her lips and rubs your shoulder comfortably. “I know,” she coos. “But don’t think you’ll feel better getting it off your chest? How do you know that he doesn’t feel the same way?”

A pause. “No.” Yes. Another pause. “And no.” One more. “How did this happen?”

She understands what you mean when you say it in a whine. She opens her mouth and is about to reply when—

“Did what happen?”

You freeze, eyes going wide as Wanda stares back in equal horror; you also detect the glint in her green eyes that spells nothing but trouble for you.

“She just agreed to have a movie night with Vis and I. My pick, which she’s still sulking about.” She throws in, so casually that you’re kind of surprised and impressed. “We were just talking about asking you to join us.”

You should’ve seen this coming. Really, you should have. It pisses you off.

‘Calm down.’ Her voice whispers in your head, a skill she’s been working on. ‘I’m sorry, but this is for your own good.’

“Yeah?” Bucky says, all rich honey. “When?”

You roll your lips and force a smirk as you turn towards him. “Tonight, around nine.” If she was going to force you into this and pick the movie, you wanted to at least have some control over this situation.

His eyes meet yours and the crinkles around them washes away the annoyance that was starting to build. He nods while shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and grins towards Wanda.

“Alright. Pick a good movie, would ya?”

Wanda laughs. “I will!”

Your fingers twinkle in a wave as Bucky awkwardly waves back. Once you’re sure he’s gone and out of earshot, you nudge Wanda’s leg with your foot. “What the hell was that?” You hiss.

“Oh hush,” she clicks her tongue. “I just gave you an opportunity, and who knows maybe something good will happen, and you’ll be thanking me after you fuc—”

“Alright alright I get it!” You stop her, a part of you still scared that anyone will just waltz in and hear. “I’ll stop complaining under one condition.”

“Okay.” She says suspiciously with narrowed eyes.

“I get to pick the movie.”

—

Your legs hurt.

Curled up crookedly under your blanket, back at an awkward angle as you stare at the moving faces and listen to the screams as they run through the forest.

The Blair Witch Project has always been one of your favorites, and you figure there’s no sex, no nudity, nothing that could put you in a weird position with the man you can’t stop thinking about sitting right next to you on the plushy loveseat. Yeah, why not?

But of course, Wanda had to be Wanda, and insisted that the two of you lounge on the small couch while her and Vision take over the other, bigger one. As if they needed the space.

Bucky, although, doesn’t seem to sense your discomfort, and if he does he’s kept quiet about it. He seems just as stiff as you are, but more relaxed and attentive.

It’s been almost an hour of this.

There’s a little giggle from the couple to your left, and when you look over you see Wanda putting her finger to her lips, shushing Vision as she holds in more of her laughter.

Glad she’s having fun.

Stop it. You’re doing this to yourself.

You let out a soft sigh and shuffle to your right, closer to Buck as you gingerly uncurl your legs and sit them criss cross. Much better. You can pay attention to the movie better now that you’re more comfortable, so lost in the panic on the screen that you don’t hear him move but rather feel the brush of his thigh against your knee.

Once you realize it you decide to ignore the onslaught of the electric shock rushing through your core—it’s embarrassing that a touch of his leg of all things gets you going.

Bang!

You gasp and jump, gripping onto the first thing your flying hands find. It happens to be Bucky, naturally.

“Sorry!” Wanda whispers yells.

You roll your eyes with a loud, annoyed sigh and settle back into the loveseat. Your hands still grip onto his bicep, and it’s his subtle clear of the throat that brings your attention to it.

“Sorry.” You flinch and let go of him.

“It’s okay.” He sounds off, a little dejected.

You’re about to over analyze it—because that’s what you do best—when Bucky scooches closer to you and hands his arm up to rest on the back of the couch, the tips of his fingers barely reaching your shoulder. Willing yourself to relax and focus, you don’t notice the side glances he’s throwing you or the hushed whispers of your friend, who is no longer paying attention to the movie at all, but rather at you and Bucky.

“We’re gonna turn in.” Wanda announces.

Your mouth opens in a small o as you stare at her in disbelief. “Are you sure?” It’s hard to hide the plea. “It’s almost at the end!”

Vision gives you an apologetic shrug and mouths ‘sorry’ as Wanda drags him away by his hand. “Yeah, we’re sure. Don’t have too much fun without me!” Her accent thrums with pure tease and you can only blubber like an idiot while watching them disappear to their room.

“Well,” Bucky sighs and shifts lower until he’s more comfortable. “Just us.”

“Hm.”

You don’t mean to sound so annoyed. You can tell it hurts his feelings because his arm moves back to his side, effectively putting more space between you. Your heart clenches at the fact that you’re the one doing this, no one else, and seeing him now, eyebrows furrowed and teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as his leg starts to bounce anxiously, makes you feel even worse.

“I think I’m going to bed, too.” Bucky says.

He stands up before you can say something, though you’re not exactly sure what you want to say to him; there’s so much and your brain is in too much of a scramble of self wallowing and fear that it’s hard to put them coherently together.

“Goodnight.” He doesn’t say your name, or give you your smile. An awkward wave and heavy steps is all you get, and when they become more faint do you curse yourself and fight the stupid tears clogging your throat as you sit there in the dark.

–

It’s been a week since that night.

Wanda, much to your relief, has left you alone about Bucky, but you know with every look when he enters the room that she’s still thinking about it; still scolding you for not taking the leap of faith into what could lead to so much more. To be honest, you don’t blame her; you’d be doing the same if you knew she’d be happy.

This time it’s so bad that the rest of the team starts to notice yours and Bucky’s sudden thrift. Steve, bless him, has been the most frequent next to Wanda.

“You know you can tell me anything Buck,” Steve’s voice rang through the empty room.

This was the night after the movie incident. Restless once again, you decided to punch out your feelings and frustrations at two in the morning with the hope that you would be alone. You almost walked in on them, not paying attention, when you heard him.

“I know.” Bucky said. “But I’m telling you, it’s not going to happen. There’s nothing there.”

Your heart leapt in your chest and your stomach dropped. Somehow, you knew they were talking about you.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked; you imagine he did so while crossing his arms.

A bang, followed by a grunt. “Nothing. Just as I said it.”

A stab deep in your heart with a jagged edge made your knees nearly buckle.

“Buck—“

“Listen punk,” Bucky interrupted. “I know you’re just looking out for me and I appreciate it, but I don’t want to…I want—“

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” FRIDAY interjects robotically. “But I’m afraid Rogers has a call waiting for him and it’s very urgent.”

You heard Steve sigh and something moved or fell, but you hurried away before you could get caught.

Ever since, you can’t get those words out of your head. They play over and over like a broken record, chasing you to insanity.

Why oh why did FRIDAY have to say something?

It was like a sign from the universe itself. Whether it was good or bad, you weren’t quite sure yet.

Tonight is a particularly warm night, which you’re not complaining about, especially with Stark’s AC. It looks to be another night of staring blankly into space until you get tired of that; covers thrown haphazardly across the room, cool air breezing against your bare skin, a new set of dark bags under your eyes brewing. A typical night for you.

This time you debate on whether you should move. It’s getting old, just sitting here but you’re too afraid of running into—well into anyone at this point. You just don’t think you have the energy for it.

So you decide on sitting by your window and watching the cars drive by, lights flashing through the busy city. Count the stars that barely shine through in the dark sky, too many city lights blocking out the natural brightness. Finally, after several long and agonizing minutes, you throw on a pair of shorts and quietly open the door, peering at the hallways to the best of your ability without any light with ears straining to detect any type of sound no matter big or small, and once you’re satisfied that you’re alone you close the door and blink.

Where to this time?

You could try the training room again, but the last time makes you hold out on that. The living room maybe? Kitchen? Game room?

Suddenly it hits you, and you want to wack yourself on the head for not thinking of this sooner. Quickly tiptoeing back to your room, you grab the fluffiest blanket you own and wrap it around yourself.

You usually prefer taking the elevator up, too lazy for the stairs, but it’s too late for that so, stairs it is. Thankfully, it’s not that many flights and when the first breeze of fresh, cool air hits your skin you immediately sigh and inhale deeply. The night is filled with miscellaneous noises of the common city, but after being here for so long you’re more than used to it. You can see the moon now, hiding behind slivers of a dark cloud, and to your right a gruff,

“What’re you doing up here?”

It’s not unwelcoming, just a question out of curiosity. You turn to him, shocked to find him up here.

“Uh.” You drawl, mouth hanging open as you think of something to say. “Well—well I…” Why is this so hard?

“Why are you up here?” You ask instead, wrapping the blanket tighter around you.

Bucky shifts in the lawn chair—a cheap brand that creaks a little under his weight—and offers you a timid smile. “Don’t you remember?”

You shuffle through your memories, trying to understand the meaning behind his question. He’s patient with you, even shuffling deeper into his stance as you stare quizzically at him. What the fuc––oh. Oh you know what he’s talking about now.

“Oh Jesus Bucky I’m––” you run a palm over your face in shame. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” he assures you.

But you do. You do because he’s your friend, one of your best friends even, and with all of this going on, he deserves to have a good friend.

So it makes you feel terrible that you forgot the quite frankly huge significance of this roof, and even more specifically the very spot he’s sitting in right now; this is where he goes when he has nightmares. When he wants to be alone. This is where your friendship started.

You had snuck up to the roof in the middle of one of Tony’s parties, clad in a simple short blue dress and an armful of drinks and snacks for yourself.

It wasn’t that you weren’t having fun, you were never one to turn down a good party. But that night you had just wanted a little alone time, and the roof was one of your sanctums of escape from the world and its responsibilities.

Balancing everything awkwardly and praying that you wouldn’t have to bend down and pick any of them up, you finally twisted and pushed the door unceremoniously.

It should’ve banged against something with the amount of force you excurted—out of pure annoyance—but instead it was stopped by flashy, shiny fingers, curled against the rim of the door with quiet clicks.

“Fuck!” You gasped. “I’m sorry, didn’t know anyone was up here.”

Bucky stared down at you wearily, eyes full of surprise and wonder as he eyed you up and down, particularly taking in the overflowing variousity of items in your arms.

“Yeah,” he grunted. “Just needed…to get away for a moment.”

At this point you already knew how Bucky was with large crowds; you didn’t blame him for coming here, especially on warm summer nights such as this.

“Yeah,” you repeated. “Me too.” You looked down at your feet, shifting your weight. “Do you… would you like to join me?”

He froze. The blood to your cheeks was prominent, you could feel that from the heat of it. You shifted again, lifting a foot to help shove a box back into your arms.

“Okay.”

You smiled then, bright and toothy. “Here,” Bucky said, reaching for the snacks. “Let me get that.”

That night was filled with nothing but small talk and laughter, and it was one of the best nights of your life in a long, long time. From then on, you and Bucky grew closer and closer until you started to dream about riding his cock until he screamed your name and you started to push him away.

“Buck.” You sigh, shaking the perverted thoughts away.

“Just come here,” he says, reaching his hand out. “I want you to see something.”

You hesitate, but only for a split second before you find yourself walking towards him. His eyes, grey tonight, bare deep into yours like he’s trying to see into your soul; to figure you out, more likely.

Once you’re within hand’s reach he gently tugs at your blanket and your heart skips a beat at the sheer…domestically of such a minuscule motion. He tugs again, gesturing with a tilt of his head to the armrest.

“That chair is gonna break as soon as I sit on it.” You argue.

“It’s not,” he defends gently.

He still senses your hesitance and clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Can I—?” He scrunches his eyebrows and carefully wraps his arm around your waist, guiding you to the left side of him. You let him guide your body until you’re half seated on his lap, legs practically curled over his thighs while his arm stays wrapped around you.

The heat from his body is searing, even through the extra layers of fluff you have on you. His breath ghosts over your cheek, casting a whiff of something sweet and minty on his breath. The hard, metal muscles dig into your back, although not uncomfortably, but enough for you to have to fight the urge to rub your thighs together at the thought of his arm tightening around you as he pounds into you—

“Look up.” He suddenly whispers in your ear, husky and deep. It causes a delectable shiver to run down your body and your pussy clenches around nothingness.

Keep it together.

Bucky must mistake it as you being cold because he pulls you tighter against him, which for you only makes it harder to control your thoughts. Your heart pounds and your ankles cross to try and relieve the increasing pressure growing in your pussy; thank goodness you brought your blanket out here.

You finally muster your eyes to follow his pointed finger and squint. “What am I looking at?”

He shifts a little more to the left. Closer to you. “There.”

You try to ignore the way his words literally hit your lips. A brush of his breath that feels like an imprint on your pink flesh and gets your mouth watering; you start to wonder what he tastes like.

“That?” You stick your hand out to the pointed stars.

“You know what that is?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you think. You’re not an expert in astronomy by no means, but you took a few classes back in the day, and somehow this piece of information resonates high and mighty in your memories.

“No.” You say before you can stop yourself.

He smiles again, that toothy smile that you love. “Cygnus. The swan, I believe. Mostly comes out during summer months and it forms this triangle,” he traces the stars. “See?”

And that is why you said no. The way he describes it, giddy and excited because he learned something new and he’s telling you…you hate yourself even more for the way you’ve been trying to avoid him.

“It’s beautiful.” You murmur.

Bucky hums in agreement. Your eyes scan for any more constellations, but you can feel him staring at you. You want to look down, your neck is even starting to strain from it, but you just…

He says your name. It comes out a whisper, and he sounds… scared. You slowly, very slowly, look down and find a swirl of gray and blue. Facing him like this makes you realize you’re closer to him than you thought; tilt your head a little down and you’d be kissing him.

As if he read your mind, he licks his lips and, unconscious or not, you start to lean forward.

This is it.

Bucky’s leaning up and holy shit you’re about to—

“Hey, lovebirds!”

The both of you jump and turn towards the intrusion, you with shock and Bucky, a murderous glare. Both his arms are around you, as if to shield you from the outsider.

“Emergency meeting.” Tony smirks. “I don’t like it either but,” he shrugs. “Duty calls. Let’s go.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches out of your peripheral vision, and you find yourself filled with the same agitation because fuck you were so fucking close.

“We should go.” You tell him, like it’s not obvious that the moment is already ruined.

“Yeah.” Bucky grits out.

You miss the safety of his arms as soon as you leave them.

–

This time you find him on purpose.

You start by going to his room. It’s late, but not too late this time. You knock softly against the door once, then twice and wait.

“Bucky?” You call out softly.

A sharp, defined meow answers you back from the otherside. You grin and give the knob a try, twisting it open slowly as you glance around the room.

“Buck?” You try again.

Alpine, Bucky’s white feline, greets you with a purr and rubs against your legs. You bend down with a coo and pick him up, scratching his head as he closes his eyes and continues to purr.

“Where’s your daddy?” You whisper to the cat.

He meows like he understands you, making you chuckle. The cool floor feels nice against your bare feet this time, a nice contrast to the heat flaring through the summer air. Alpine settles himself in your arms as you search for Bucky. Everything is quiet, no signs of anyone up and moving around, and you start to wonder if Bucky is up on that roof again when you walk by the kitchen. There’s a dark figure by the corner of your eye, but you don’t register it until Alpine starts squirming and you do a double take.

“Hey.” You put Alpine down.

Bucky nods at you and follows Alpine with his eyes as the cat rubs up against his owner, adding an arch to his spine.

“I was looking for you.” You explain when Bucky doesn’t say anything.

“Hmm.” He hums nonchalantly.

You nod, because you don’t know what you want to say now that you have him and twindle your fingers together. This is… a lot harder than you expected it to be.

“Soo,” you start out. “How… are you?”

He shrugs. “‘M alright.”

Okay. You got that out of the way. Now let’s—

“Let’s go to my room.”

He’s whizzing past you before you can even blink, Alpine in tow. It takes you a moment before your muscles move and you’re following him. Your heart thuds wildly against your ribcage and you take a deep breath when his door comes into view.

Bucky has always been in a state between organized and messy. Most days you can’t even call it an organized mess, it’s more separate if you can make any sense of it. You’re reminded of this as soon as you walk in, stepping over a t-shirt and combat boots. “Sorry, sorry.” Bucky mumbles as he quickly ducks down to pick them up. The rest of his room is about the same, but it’s not too bad to make a big deal of.

“Can’t really sleep.” He offers an explanation.

“Ah.” You nod. “You got my problem now.”

He smirks mischievously and it shamefully sends a wave of blazing arousal through your body, ending at the pulsing ache quivering in need.

“It seems I do, doll.”

Is this—is this a double entendre? Is Bucky messing with you right now? Enjoying the way you’re trembling with a hold that’ll give everything away?

If so, he’s doing a fantastic job.

“So,” you clear the lodge in your throat. “S-so do you want to, uh, train? Like last time?” Okay, that might not be such a good idea—you won’t be able to control yourself then, you’re positive of it—but you genuinely do want to help him, so you’re willing to fight your animalistic pulses for the sake of your friend. No that—that doesn’t sound right. Just calling him your friend. Now, it’s leaving a distaste in your mouth.

He sits down on the edge of his bed—dark covers that match the aesthetics of his personality—and plants his elbows on his knees as he, dramatically you have to add, thinks thoughtfully with a slight pout to his perfect lips.

“Push ups.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Alright?”

“But I’m gonna need a little help.”

He leans forward, just a bit more, and—and maybe it’s just your uncontrollable imagination—his eyes are dark and blown wide.

Okay, your pussy is throbbing now, the pulse achingly worse in your clit. “O-okay.” You lick your dry lips.

His smirk widens and stretches to put his cup onto his nightstand, making his shirt pull up, showing you a sliver of chiseled abs on his toned stomach.

Holy fuck. You’re not going to make it.

Bucky catches your eye before he gets down on the carpet, the muscles in his back straining deliciously and mouth watering as he stretches his legs out and holds himself up by his palms.

“Sit on my back.”

“Wha—” You sputter with a slight giggle. “What just…just sit on you?”

“On my back, yes.” Bucky teases and glances up at you. “It’ll tire me out faster.”

It makes sense. Logically. And he does have more of an immunity than most. But you just can’t help but feel that this is part of a game of his, thinking of any and every way to torture you and watch you squirm in your helpless state.

You’re silent as you take short steps towards his crouched form and place a hand steadily on his broad shoulder. You check on his face, still as lucid and beautiful as ever, and carefully settle your weight atop his.

“Good?” You ask.

“Yes, so you can relax sweetheart.” He says without a strain. So you do as he says, sitting more comfortably on him and crossing your legs.

He bends his elbows and leans down, your fingers automatically gripping his shirt to gain more balance, and pushes himself back up at a steady pace, barely a noise coming from him. Each time he moves you feel his muscles stretch and tighten beneath you; you have to bite your lip to stop from digging your nails into his skin.

Alpine watches as Bucky continues the workout, all the while you’re sitting on him wondering just what you’re supposed to do other than sit here, anything to clear your head and appease the burning ache coursing through you.

“Say something.” He grunts.

“Like what?” You scoff despite yourself.

“I don’t know, talk about anything.” Up, down. A heavy breath. “Count for me then.”

“I don’t know how much you’ve done already.”

“Ten.” He answers immediately. Up. Down. “Eleven.” Up. Down. “Tw—“

“Twelve.” You interject with a mimicking tone. “Thirteen…fourteen…fifteen…sixteen…”

Up. Down. You highly doubt he’s even breaking a sweat right now as your body hobbles on the muscles of steel. Up. Down. A tick, sounds like from a watch, sounds lowly in the room, but to you it sounds like it’s echoing loudly through your ears. Up. Down. You need to tell him. Up. Down.

“Alp,” Bucky sighs annoyingly.

You look over and see the white glob bend its head down by Bucky’s wrist, and when Bucky leans down the cat boops his nose against his and sits.

“Oh no, c’mon.” Bucky complains. “Move.”

He tries to sweep Alpine away with one arm but you’re moving too, not holding on to him and when he leans most of his weight onto his left side, your body goes with it.

“Woah!” Your hands fly wildly as you attempt to grab onto something. That something happens to be soft and you mistake it for his shirt and pull.

“Hey—shitmhm!”

You freeze. He does too.

Did that…did that just happen?

The air is thick, so fucking thick, you’re not sure if you can breathe properly under the weight of it.

Now what the fuck do you say?

“Um are you—” you’re breathless, like you’ve been the one doing the push ups. “Are you okay?”

He still keeps his stance, Alpine long gone by now towards his bed most likely. You don’t care about that right now. All you can think about is how his arms flex as he keeps you up and how you can see his jaw tick; it shouldn’t turn you on, but that groan does nothing to help you as it echoes through the air silently.

“Buc—”

There’s a tug on your calf and suddenly the room is a blur. You feel yourself being pulled down and flipped onto your back, and again you brace yourself for impact but it’s—it’s just the soft carpet, and he’s leaning over you, legs between his now open ones with a dangerous look in his eyes that you can’t tear away from. A bead of sweat dribbles down the tip of his nose until it drips down onto your cheekbone, but that’s not even enough to break the spell you’re currently in. It breaks Bucky’s, however, because he curses and wipes the small line from your cheek and wipes the front of his face with an open palm.

You should say something. A word. Just something. He turns back to you and just…looks at you. And you look back. Breaths mix together, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and there’s a battle waging in his mind, you can see that in his eyes; they’re barely recognizable now, no blue or gray.

“Can I kiss you?”

It takes you a second to register what he said. It’s soft, so fucking quiet and gentle that it pierces straight through your heart. Your stomach erupts in nerves and your legs tighten together on their own accord, pussy fluttering at the question.

Bucky waits patiently, never once moving a muscle. You lick your lips and that’s when he moves, a flicker of his eyes and a part of his lips.

You don’t answer him with words. You don’t think you can trust your voice enough to. Don’t think at all, actually. Instead you nod and wait with baited breath as he nods back, leisurely, and starts to lean in. It’s tentative, careful but eager. You never take your eyes off his, only when you feel the soft press of his lips against yours do you indulge yourself.

The kiss starts off slow. Barely even a kiss, just lips against lips. You crane your neck up and back a little and press harder against him, making him moan softly in the back of his throat and shit that’s one of the most beautiful sounds you ever heard; you need to hear more of it.

Sensing your eagerness, he presses back and kisses you like you’re sure he did back in the 40’s, slinging every gal and wooing them with just a wink of an eye. His tongue traces the outline of your bottom lip and you open your mouth with a gasp, inviting his curious tongue into your warm crevasse. He sighs at the taste of you, swirling his tongue with yours in a fight you know he’ll win. Your hands lift up and wrap around his shoulders, pushing him down on to you. He presses down on your knee and you spread your legs for him to settle in between.

“Why—” He breaks the kiss, a string of saliva connected to your lips trailing along as you whine from the loss. “Why did we wait so long to do that?”

You giggle, deep and low and he joins in with his own, harmonizing perfectly. “I don’t know,” you say. “That’s sorta my fault, I guess. I just—” you look away shyly.

Bucky places two fingers underneath your chin, prompting you to look at him. “Didn’t want to risk our friendship.” He finishes for you.

You nod. Your chest feels lighter now, a new sense of…of an increasing, raw excitement growing inside you. He must feel the same way, too, because he swoops back in for another kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. Your arms flex as you hold him still, running your hand up the nape of his neck and into his locks, gripping a handful of it to stable yourself. Bucky moans again and drops his hips into yours, where you feel the hardening outline of his cock through his sweatpants, grinding purposefully against yours.

“Bucky,” you gasp, moaning when his lips trail down your jaw and stop at your neck.

“I’m so sorry we ever waited this long,” he groans into the skin, planting a kiss on your rapid pulse. “You’re so fucking beautiful, малышка.

You don’t understand much Russian, but Bucky has been trying to teach you on and off and this one you understand; babygirl.

“Fuck.” You moan. He sucks a mark on your neck and bites down on it, making you whine and arch your back into him. He pushes back down, and his cock feels impossibly harder and you know he can feel your hot, dripping cunt, too.

“Please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for. “I-I need…”

“What?” He asks sweetly. When you continue to sputter at him, he gives a hard thrust against your clothed cunt.

“A-ah fuck.” You keen.

“Tell me what you want.” He orders. “Tell me and I’ll give it to you. C’mon.”

It feels like you can’t breathe. He hasn’t even been inside you yet and you’re already on the edge, chest heaving and thighs quivering with the anticipation.

Bucky suddenly drops down to his forearms, leaving a searing kiss that has you whimpering for more. “Want me to taste you?” He whispers huskily. “Like I dreamed?” His hands slide under your shirt, skimming against your sides. Your breath catches, caught in your throat as your skin breaks out in goosebumps. “Kiss that pretty pussy of yours? Fuck you with my fingers? Get you alll—“ He palms your breasts and pinches your nipple; you bite down on your lip hard, indents digging sharply through the tender flesh. “—nice and wet for my thick, fat cock? Would you like that, doll?”

Would you like that? You’d fucking kill for it.

“Yes!” You moan loudly. “Oh please Bucky, please.”

Bucky loves to see you beg. His dick twitches in response in his pants and you dig your nails into his back.

“Okay baby,” he says against your open mouth. “Get on the bed for me, legs spread.”

You don’t hesitate as soon as he lifts off you. You crawl on the bed with shaky limbs and lay on your back on his pillow; it smells distinctly Bucky, filling your senses with fueled desire.

Bucky looks at you like you’re fucking treasure. Like you’re the sun, the moon, everything to him, and it makes you blush and flutter under the intensity of it. You hold your arms out with a slight pout.

“Please?”

He huffs a chuckle and reaches behind him to pull his shirt over his head. Your mouth waters at the beautiful specimen before you; you want to kiss the faint scars that littler his body. He pulls down his pants next but keeps his boxers on, the outline of his hard cock prominent and strained through the fabric; if it’s bothering him, he’s doing a pretty good job at hiding it.

Bucky crawls towards you, slow and with a curve, like a predator capturing its prey. You reach out for him and grab his shoulders, pulling him towards you for a kiss. His lips, slightly chapped but otherwise soft, move against yours in perfect synchrony, as if your bodies are already so in tune with each other. He breaks the kiss, diving back to lick your top lip, and slides the palm of his hands back up under your shirt, this time pulling the fabric with him. You help him slide the shirt off and throw it casually across the room; your nipples perk under his wandering and trumpeting gaze.

“Fuck, doll,” he whispers.

Before you can react he leans down and envelopes your nipple in his mouth, tongue swirling around the perky bud. You gasp and hold his head to your chest while his hands grip down on your hips, hard enough to where you know there’s going to be bruises. He bites down on the bud, causing you to roll your hips against his and your toes to curl.

“Bucky.” You whisper, just because he’s all you can see and feel and smell…

He lets go of your breast with a pop and trails his kisses down the valley between your breasts and to your stomach, stopping at the pant line.

“Yes.” You say before he can ask. “Please, Bucky. I need you to touch me.”

“I already am, sweetheart.” He replies innocently.

You don’t want to argue right now. “James.”

He laughs and dips his fingers inside the waistband, the cool metal making you shiver. “You know,” he says as he drags your pants down your legs at an agonizing pace. “I kinda like it when you say my name like that.”

You chuckle, but it comes out weird and without much air. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He bites your hip bone, making your hips jump and your pussy clench. “James.”

Keeping your eyes on him—somehow, you know that he wants you to keep watching him—Bucky licks the very same spot he just bit and catches his teeth on the lining of your panties, pulling back and tugging at the flimsy fabric. The act alone almost makes you cum.

You moan lowly and lift your hips to help him pull them down your legs, kicking them off once they’re at your ankles.

“Jesus.” He murmurs, his breath hot against your pussy; if it weren’t for his broad shoulders, you would’ve closed your legs to relieve the pressure. “You’re fucking dripping, baby. Did I do that to you?”

You swallow and open your mouth, but no words come out. It’s like your brain is short circuiting, cut off from oxygen. Bucky grimaces and slaps your thigh with his flesh hand, making you cry out.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes.” You stutter. “Fuck, Bucky yes, only you.”

He grins and kisses the top of your pubic mound, gripping your thighs tighter and scooching closer to the bed. “Gonna taste you.” He whispers, almost as if he was talking to himself rather than you.

You wiggle your hips impatiently, waiting for him. You think he might slap you again if you continue moving, so you will yourself to relax and…and wait. Because he can’t stop fucking staring at you, and kissing everywhere but where you want him the most and it’s so frustrating you’re going to cry.

“Pl-EASE!”

His hot, wet tongue slides up the strip of your folds and settles around your clit, circling the sensitive bundle. You preen into his mouth and clutch at the bedsheets, already writhing against him. He immediately throws an arm—his right one—over your lower stomach and pins your hips down, preventing you from moving an inch away or towards him; you’re completely under his will.

Bucky explores the velvety slit of your pussy, humming all the while like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted. The groans that are escaping you doesn’t sound like you, doesn’t feel like they’re coming from you, but they are and it finally catches up to you—James Buchannon Barnes, your friend, best friend, your co-worker, is eating your pussy like there’s no tomorrow.

“Oh fu—” He nips carefully at your clit. You can’t focus. Not on your words, your surroundings, nothing but Bucky and the sensations he’s bring you. Every lick and suck on your pussy has you keening into his unbreakable hold, whining and clutching the sheets until you’re sure you’re going to tear right through them. This is too much, way too fucking much but you’re so close, so desperate for him, that you’ll—

He slurps lewdly and loudly, making you throw your head back and choke on a moan. “Bu-Bucky I—I need…”

He pulls back just slightly enough to say, “I know.” And he shifts, getting ready to switch arms.

No. Oh no no no no.

Your hand darts out and stops him. Gulping, you wordlessly place his flesh arm back on your stomach and reach for his metal fingers. Bucky’s eyes widen as soon as he figures it out and stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head.

“R-really?” He asks indubely. “You want me to—Jesus baby you—fuck.”

“Please.” You whine. “I can take it.”

He—he snarls and buries his face back into your weeping pussy, attaching his lips around your clit. You gurgle out a low curse and feel his cold fingers prod at your gaping entrance.

“You sure?” He asks cautiously.

“If you don’t I will literally—OH!” One thick, wide finger breaches through your hole and slides into your cunt with ease, curling as soon as he’s knuckle deep. Your body spasms, like you’ve just been electrocuted, and your fingers curl in his hair.

“Taste fucking delicious,” he begins to babble. “Sweet like candy. Nevr’ gonna get enough of it, doll, never.” He pumps his finger in and out of you, curling each time he slides back in, brushing up against your sweet spot. After a few pumps, he dips another in, stretching you.

“Bucky I’m—” The coil in your lower stomach tightens, your pussy fluttering against his fingers painfully, but in a way that’s everything pleasurable. “Oh fuck I’m gonna c-cum.”

His lips are around your clit again, fingers pumping faster now to the point where you can hear the squelches from your cunt, and without any warning he sucks. Hard.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” It comes out of you without preamble, mindless babbling that doesn’t even make sense at all. Your thighs cage his head, shaking and quivering as your orgasm approaches. “I’m g-go-gonna—” Your pussy clenches harshly around his thick digits and you’re gone. White flashes behind your eyelids, a numbness searing through your entire core as you shake and gush around his fingers, and a strange sound emanates through the room again; you don’t have to question who it is.

Bucky works you through your release, moaning and lapping at everything you have to give him. Eventually you come down when it becomes too painful to bear and you push his head away from you. Giving your clit one last kiss that makes you whimper, he stands up and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, smirking down at you all the matter.

“You did so good, baby.” He praises you; you shutter, legs jumping slightly as your body flexes. “Gonna let me fuck you? Huh, babygirl?”

You’ll let this man do anything to you. Your limbs feel like jello, but find enough strength to keep your legs open and open your arms invitingly to him. He makes a show of pulling his boxers down, your eyes following the patch of dark hair and bulges at the long, thick cock that slaps against the hard plains of his stomach, precum smearing from the red angry tip. Next time—and you really fucking hope there will be a next time—you’re going to put him in your mouth.

“Like what you see?” There’s more of that cocky, playboy Bucky Barnes you’ve heard so much about.

“Yes.” You answer honestly. “Kiss me.”

The bed shifts slightly and creaks under his weight as he crawls towards you and locks his lips with yours; you can still taste yourself on his lips, sweet and tangly. The tip of his head brushes against your clit as he lays down on top of you, hot and smearing more of his precum across your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you moan into him.

Bucky groans lowly and you reach down to grab his cock; it’s hot, thick enough to where your fingers don’t reach and pulsing in your hand. “Shit.” He hisses, hips stuttering in your grasp.

Nex time, you’re going to tease him, too; give him a piece of his own medicine. You would now, but this has been a long time coming and you’re tired of waiting, so you line him up at your entrance and keep your hand on him as he slowly pushes in.

He moans your name the same time you moan his, looking down to watch himself sink into your warm depths. He stops when he’s balls deep, and you feel so full that you’re positive the tip of him is about near your cervix.

“Bucky.” You wiggle beneath him. “Move.”

“I got you, princess.” He croaks. “I got you.”

Pushing himself down on his forearms, Bucky pulls out painfully slow, his dick already wet and slick with your juices, and pushes back in. You roll your hips into his thrusts, taking him deeper. Every single muscle in his body flexes under your touch as you wrap your arms around his back, rolling into you with perfect thrusts that hits a spot deep inside you. You're too wired, too engrossed with the fact that it’s him, that your still overly sensitive pussy clenches around his cock.

“Baby,” his voice presses sweet and deep in his throat as he gasps. “I’m not—fuck I’m sorry I-I’m not—”

“It’s okay.” You tell him breathlessly, pressing your forehead against his and giving his lips a quick peck. “Just fuck me, Bucky. Use me, like I’ve dreamed of.”

Bucky chokes, eyes wild and neck red, and pulls almost all the way out until the tip is barely in and thrusts back in harshly. You cry out and dig your nails into his bare skin, leaving angry marks in their wake. He grabs your leg and hitches it over his hip, bringing his arm back down to wrap around you.

“You ever touch yourself thinking about me, doll?” He grits. “Huh? Have you?”

How—oh Jesus fuck how are you supposed to answer that when he’s fucking you so deep that you can barely remember your own name. Your pussy clenches in answer to what he already knows, and that gets him to grind down at you; the curls of his hair brush heavenly against your clit. “Yeah, you have, haven’t you?”

Pleasure rips through as his hips meet your harder and faster, the slap of skin against skin becoming louder and louder, as is your cries, but you don’t care if the whole fucking world hears you.

“You’re tight,” he gasps, closing his eyes. “How are you s-so fucking—fuck tight?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that, but the only thing you can do is bring him down to kiss you again, clashing teeth as you moan and cling to him. He breaks the kiss and buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. His arms slide back down to grope your ass cheeks and lift your lower half up to meet more of his heavy and hurried thrusts.

“I’m not going to last much longer,” he warns you in a moan.

You kiss his neck while your hand slides down his back to grope at his ass—as if you can push him even more deeper inside of you—and you lick his earlobe, tugging at the end with your teeth until he shivers.

“I want you to cum,” you whisper seductively in his ear. “Sergeant, please.”

Sergeant. Sergeant. You have no idea where it came from, but as soon as the words leave your mouth he growls and starts to plow you, fingers digging into your flesh as his hips snap into yours.

“Shit. Oh fuck babygirl I can—I can’t.” His rhythm falters, your pussy fluttering and clenching around him, trying to get his cock to say within you after each delicious drag against your walls. He whines—a pitiful, deep whine that resonates throughout the shocked nerves—and you can’t—

“I’m cumming.” You manage to break out. “B-buck—fuck.”

Your ankles cross around his waist, and it takes his teeth in your neck to have you cry out onto the ceiling as your pussy pulses around him, sucking him in and clenching until your muscles feel spent and sore.

“Oh God,” Bucky whimpers and it sends another wave through you, making him sputter and choke as his hips slam into you unevenly. “Shit shit, fuck.”

“Please baby.” You encourage softly. “Cum.”

He abruptly pulls out, your protest lodged in your throat as you feel the hot, thick ropes of cum spurt out onto your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck.” Bucky continues to gasp, his hand flying to his weeping cock and fisting it.

You moan as a few more land on your chest, painting your body with his pearly white cum; you know it’s over when he starts to slump. Without a second thought, he pushes back into you. “Bucky.” You can only say in slight confusion and pain.

“Sorry, I’m sorry I just—“ he winces as his hips connect with yours again. “—just wanna feel ya. Too good.” He slurs.

He kisses you then, slow and unhurried unlike earlier. This kiss says so much more in its language, lost in the dance of your lips. He trails his lips up to your forehead and places the softest and faintest of kisses there before settling on your chest.

You hum and rub his back soothingly. You’re both sweaty and sticky—Bucky doesn’t seem to mind this fact as he presses himself closer to you—and your body is satisfyingly numb and exhausted. Finally exhausted for what seems like ages.

Once the haze evaporates from your mind, questions start flying: what does this mean for you and Bucky now? When and how do you tell the others? What does this mean for missions? What does—?

“Stop thinking.” Bucky mumbles, voice covered by the breast he’s laid his head on. “Too loud.”

He’s right. This time, it can wait.

You smile and whisper an apology, snuggling deeper into the hug. You try to get comfortable, but the sticky evidence is drying uncomfortably on your skin.

“Bucky,” you sigh. “We gotta shower.”

You feel his nose squint. “Few more minutes.”

You fall asleep before those few minutes are up.

Tags: @scarlett-berserker, @justlovetoreadfics, @lil-baby27, @mando-vibes, @beepbeepyabitch, @that-void-witch, @im-the-music-whore, @certifiedhunter, @softpedropascal, @domino-oh-damn, @okaydacre, @lemongrove, @appreciating-chase-brody, @iwontforgettheapplepie, @mybabyboytony, @olyamoriarty, @pcrushinnerd, @elusive-ivory, @dizzydazed, @bluejeancntrygrl, @dadzawas-eyebags, @moonstruck-witchy @our-mrlangdon, @parody-the-emi, @evalynanne, @purplewaterbird, @vikingqueen28, @tedpicklez, @blunt-cake-yes, @agoldin, @lustriix, @readsalot73, @kateb013, @eupphoriaaa, @imalovernotahater, @everything-lost-and-unsaid, @dlmafa1, @hoodedbirdie, @drunkenliterary, @fioccodineveautunnale, @fangirlfree, @amarvelousmandalorian, @ironheart-hanako, @sando-rann, @meganoid1997, @adikaofmandalore, @cahooter, @charliepeaceout, @dreamgirl-67, @phoenixhalliwell, @acrylics-and-sunshine, @sunkissed-winter

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #james buchanan barnes #bucky x you #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfic

2K notes · View notes