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buckyarchives · 1 year

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Metal Arms and Short Skirts | Bucky Barnes. [1]

summary: waltzing in as the new head of the Avenger's medical division, impressing everyone, and... scaring Bucky with your incredibly short skirts. while Bucky's having a hard time looking at his arm as anything other than a deadly weapon, and you're more than happy to help him.

word count: 5.6k author note: this started as a small, very self indulgent short story that i had no plans of finishing nor posting but here i am. this is also a sort of mini story while write a much longer/ complex story. i hope to have this finished by the end of jan. my inbox is open for prompts to write as small drabbles! enjoy!

outfit reference (because it kinda important, but you can change it if you'd like; this is just for visuals) outfit one and outfit two

story playlist here

READ ON AO3 | masterlist

A soft knock at the door echoed and Bucky’s eyes sprung open, making himself aware of his surroundings as he began rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes with his flesh hand. His gaze pans to the small clock, ‘6:00 am’, it read.

“Buck? You up?” Bucky’s head snapped toward the familiar voice. He called out a quick, muffled response while slipping on some pants. Bucky knotted his eyebrows as he crept towards the door, drowsiness still lingering. A small scowl decorated Bucky’s face, the knock catching him off-guard. Today was a scheduled free for Bucky.

Bucky opened the door to be met with Steve's face, “what is it?” Bucky asked.

“I told you last night, we gotta get to the lab and fix your arm.” Steve replied, eyes glancing at the bent and crushed panels on his forearm. Sparring was fun until Steve throws his shield a little too fast and Bucky is just a little too late to catch or dodge. “And this is the only time today that Tony is free to fix it, so put a shirt on, and let's go.”

Bucky grumbled under his breath at the orders, he wasn't one to sleep in or mess around with his strict schedule but it had been a rough week. A mission went wrong, and a trip to the med wing. Bucky wanted to be just a little self-indulgent and maybe have a late start by choice. He turned and grabbed a black, sleeveless shirt from his closet. Sleeveless made the process a lot easier and he prayed to any god that Tony wasn't going to be a pain in the ass this morning.

“Ready?” Steve spoke up as Bucky emerged from his room, a quick pat on the shoulder as he nodded in response.

The two boys walked side by side towards the med wing, this was the 3rd visit to the lab this week, and it was only Thursday. Bucky decided then and there that were a couple of too many times for his liking. He hoped this went by fast. On the way they both ran into a certain black widow, Steve nearly tripped over Natasha as she walked out of the training room.

“Hey boys, where you headed too?” she spoke as she began to walk with them down the hall, a bead of sweat dripping from her forehead.

“Last night's match got a little too fast and I accidentally jammed the shield in Buck's arm, headed to Tony to get it fixed real quick,” Steve spoke, Natasha eyed the smashed vibranium.

Natasha's eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Tony’s in DC right now?”

“Huh?”

“Flew out last night, had some emergency meeting. Said it was no big deal.”

Bucky scoffed under his breath. “Well I'm sure someone is there to fill in or Tony would have sent me a message,” Steve said, hopeful as always.

Bucky wasn't sure if he was happier or more annoyed at the fact Tony wouldn't be working on his arm. Pro; it's not tony. Con; it's a stranger– unless Bruce pulls a medical engineering Ph.D. out of his ass, which in full honestly would not surprise anyone too much.

An elevator ride and too many hallways later, the trio walked toward the lab, no one looked to be inside from the outside, and Bucky peered through the windows. He thought how bad it would be to turn around and go back to bed now, but Steve made everyone walk in– ‘just to check.

It was quiet for a moment, besides the subtle sound of whirring machines. Soon the large lab door slides open, “I'm so sorry I'm late! I'm filling in for Tony, he had a meeting.”

you walked through the door with a large iPad and a couple of books in hand, you set them down on a bench with a loud thud. Natasha said your name surprised, calling your attention to her.

“I didn’t know you were working at the compound, did Tony just transfer you?” she spoke, Bucky and Steve didn’t recognize you but Natasha seemed to be familiar.

You smiled brightly at Natasha, “yes. Tony wants me here permanently instead of California to give Helen a break from traveling here from Korea every time someone gets a bullet wound; which seemed to happen too often. ” you spoke confidently, “I think Tony just wants me closer to him.”

Natasha chuckled softly and rolled her eyes, “oh, I'm sure. I think you are the only one besides Pepper that can make him slow down.”

“Tony? Slow down?” Steve perked up, joking along.

“Yeah because I'm the only one he trusts with his oh-so-precious work,” you spoke sarcastically before turning towards Steve and Bucky, holding your hand out to greet the two super-soldiers. Introducing yourself, Steve spoke your name back to you, and you smiled.

“It's nice to meet you, and don't worry about being late– we just got here.” Steve shook your hand firmly before you turned to Bucky.

You brought your hand up to shake his hand while your eyes widened and filled with curiosity once you saw his left arm, you attempted to hide it, but Bucky noticed it quickly. He shook your hand. “It's nice to finally meet you and work on– I mean with you Mr. Barnes” you stumbled over your words.

“Call me Bucky, please.” Bucky replied, his hand falling back to his side.

Bucky wore a confused look after he noticed your attire, questioning if you truly were the engineer slash doctor to work on his arm in Tony Starks place. Your hair was done up, you had a tiny, baby-blue shirt on, made out of bunched-up tulle fabric, it was off the shoulder with the sheer tulle fabric puffing up on your sleeves.

Your skirt was matching and incredibly short and tight, despite the shortness, a small slit was on up your thigh. Bucky’s eyes fell all the way down to the floor, white boots that wrapped tightly around your calves and stopped around your knee. Not missing the huge, chunky heel that definitely gave you a few inches.

Muffled small talk between you and Natasha started as Bucky took a seat next to Steve, you moved confidently around the lab as if you owned it, pulling the specific tools and materials to start working. Bucky watch you curiously and thought despite your utter confidence and bliss, you looked out of place in the lab.

Your outfit felt so out of place; colorful, fun, and playful against the lab scenery. Bucky imagined seeing you on the new york city streets, walking around with a young and trendy outfit, a model-like strut like you owned the city. The usual sight of scientists here had a boring, toned-down outfit, usually under a lab coat. You sported none of that.

“In full transparency Bucky, since you joined the team I've been asking Tony for a while to work with you, I have many ideas for your arm.” He snapped out of his trance once you addressed him, head turned towards Bucky as you ran your hands under the sink. “I hope you're comfortable with that.”

Bucky just shrugged in response, you laughed lightly at his response. “Well then, can you sit over here for me?” you pointed to a lowered workbench in the center of the room, and Bucky plopped down on it next to your books. Natasha took his place next to Steve across from bucky

Natasha spoke up, “Stark get you your own lab yet? I know how you are about your space.”

Your warm laughter filled Bucky’s ears again, he found himself enjoying the sound ringing in his head. “Tony said as long as I get along with everyone and stop blowing things up I could stay– though I think he has no room to speak.” you joked.

“I have no doubts though, he seemed pretty adamant about making me the head of the lab and medical wing here?”

“Impressing everyone as always I see,” Natasha spoke warmly, you scrunched your face up slightly, smiling shyly at the compliment.

You caught Bucky off guard for a moment once you asked for permission to grab his lower forearm, already one point better than Tony as he usually would just grab it harshly and get to work. “I try my best.”

“It seems you’ve been working with Tony for while, how come I've never seen you around?” Steve asked, he leaned forward with his elbows propped against his knees. Curious eyes placed on you, Bucky knew that look.

A concentrated gaze took over your face, and your tongue stuck out a little on the side as you worked slowly to get the crushed plates out of Bucky’s arm. Bucky took note of your almost perfect nails, they were long and glossy with a baby blue color and gems. Matching your outfit.

“Well, Tony definitely put me to work so I haven't had much time to catch up with the avengers. I know Natasha when she was “Tony's assistant.’” you snort, throwing your hands up around the assistant. Natasha smirked.

Steve was impressed– to say the least, humming in response. “Tony has taken a liking to me and always finds jobs for me so I’m constantly traveling and working. I've been pretty busy the past few years so it would make sense to have missed you.”

“Oh, and you have like a million Ph.D.’s” Natasha added.

“Only five.”

Natasha throws her hands up dramatically, blowing raspberries in a mocking manner. “only.”

“A very impressive resume.” Steve teased, Bucky couldn’t help but be impressed as well, especially with being so young. He was also impressed at the delicacy of which you worked, your hands were so steady and Bucky could barely notice you working. More points ahead of Stark.

“All that and I don't think I’ve ever seen you in a bad outfit.” Natasha teased, her eyes traveling up your outfit. “Or hair.”

A shy smile grew on your face, “as long as it doesn’t affect my work, the short skirts stay on.” you winked playfully towards Natasha as she rolled her eyes at the gesture.

“I’m just glad you finally are settling down in one lab, I missed seeing you around.” Natasha smiled fondly at you. “Found a place to stay yet?”

“Yes! I found a nice apartment close by, Tony wanted to give me a room here but I declined,” you said. Natasha put on an overexaggerated frown.

All the crushed panels were gone and the hardware inside was almost put back in place. Natasha and Steve were both in their own bubble, chatting away about some old mission. Bucky sat staring at you and your hands as you worked. His eyes shamefully traveled towards your thighs, your skirt was traveling up and a little bit and more of the skin on your thighs could be seen.

His head snapped away and towards the two avengers when Natasha's phone went off. apparently, Agent Hill needed the two so after a quick goodbye from Steve and a teased, exaggerated wink from Natasha, the two were gone and Bucky was left alone with you. Bucky tried to keep his eyes averted from your thighs or exposed stomach from your cropped top, but the growing redness on his face said otherwise.

“I really do hope to work with you in the future, make some better use of this arm, yeah?” you spoke up, beginning to replace the old panels with new ones, putting them together like puzzle pieces.

“My arm’s perfectly fine.” Bucky mumbled.

You nodded slowly, “yes, it is. But, it can be improved. I can add some new tech, you know? Make it stronger, more flexible, add some cybernetic defenses or maybe some built-in sensory rays, and build something in like Natasha bracelets, that deliver some powerful electric discharge.”

Bucky listens to you ramble on about his cyborg arm, your face lit up as you talked about all the possibilities. Your hands are still steady at work on the vibranium. “Is all that really necessary?”

“I think it is, considering fighting is your job. But, if you don't think so, I won’t anything, it’s just an idea.” your eyes are still laser-focused on his arm, not looking at you. Bucky’s eyes glanced back down to your thigh. “And extra tech would make your arm so much cooler.”

Bucky scoffed, “this thing is not cool.”

Your eyes finally left his arm and you looked up at Bucky through your lashes, “I think it’s pretty cool” you smiled slightly at him before going back at his arm.

Cool? he doesn't think anyone's ever called his arm cool. Bucky's eyes left you and he looked forward, defocusing and staring off into space. “Anything you want to be changed or added?”

A few snarky responses came to mind but they fell short on Bucky’s tongue. Bucky wasn’t going to respond and let the silence answer for him, but his eyes flashed toward the blood-red color on his shoulders.

“Maybe get rid of the star.” Bucky sighed, he said it like it was a sacred confession. Shame laced in his tone. Like no matter how hard he tried to redeem himself, or erase his mind of Hydra– the star painted on his shoulder would never let him rid of it all. Like a branding.

You smiled fondly at him from across the lab, with no disgust or fear. An unusual sight recently with every other agent recoiling from his presence by just living. “Yeah, I can do that. Do you like black? I can do black, oh! Or gold, that'd be cool.”

Bucky could only watch in awe as you contiuned to mumble random colors under your breath, fascinated by the fact you could be anything other than afraid of the machine of an arm. Your wheeled chair scooted closer and Bucky could feel like puffy tule fabric against his leg, his eyes averted sideway, towards your body again. Your skirt was making him nervous, how did you wear outfits like this to work every day?

You had started to notice Bucky’s eyes ghosting over your outfit mid-conversation with Steve, brushing it off then so you wouldn't embarrass the man in front of his peers. But it was starting to bother you now, did your outfit look bad? Was something out of place?

“Something wrong with my outfit, Mr. Barnes?”

“Bucky.” he corrected, his eye darted toward you, a red flush growing on his face now that you noticed his lingering eyes. He was a fool for thinking you wouldn't notice. “Your skirt scares me.”

Your hands stopped working, being taken aback by Bucky’s response. You look up at him confused, a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. “I’m sorry?”

“I mean this with no disrespect, but it's just very short…” his sentence trails up, leaving it at that in hopes of not offending you or writing himself off as a creep. His face was flushed with red so he wasn’t sure how convincing it was, “not that I was- uh, looking at you like that”

‘Well,” your eyes fell back on the metal panel, screw in hand. “I might call you a gentleman for caring about my decently.” you teased, Bucky let out a small sigh knowing you didn’t take his concerns the wrong way.

“But don't worry, sergeant. I’m wearing safety shorts under,” you smirked, getting up from your seat and swiftly pulling your skirt down. “All done! Do your little arm thing.’

Bucky was caught off guard. Eyebrows furrowed in your direction, “how do you know about that?”

“Like I haven't mentioned enough, I’m very familiar with your work. I've seen videos of you fighting, you do that thing where you like spin in to stretch it out.” you laughed, backing up and attempting a half-assed version of imitating him and spinning your arm in a small circle. Bucky stifled back an amused laugh at the sight, pushing back the thought of thinking you looked quite cute doing it.

Bucky shook his head, cocking it slightly to the right. And did the arm thing. Watching your face as he did it. Weirdly enough, you smiled with amusement at the sight. ‘“Yeah, that thing!”

“You are very interesting, has anyone told you that?”

“Yes and I’m choosing to take it as a compliment. Now I have to clean up here and get some other things done, you're free to go Mr. Barnes.” you put away the tools and discharged the old metal plates to be melted down for other uses later.

“Bucky.” he repeated.

Turning to him with books and iPad in your arms. “Yes, sorry. Bucky.” you smiled at him and walked past him towards the doorway, you practically strutted out of the lab. Calling back at him before leaving.

“It was wonderful meeting you!” and you were gone with no room to respond.

Bucky stood slightly dumbfounded and a little… impressed? In the middle of the lab before seeing the text from steve to meet him in the training room, a groan escaped his mouth hoping he could have one off day.

What made everything worse is that he had to endure a few too many direct hits from Steve and Sam during their sparing session. Bucky'smind had been somewhere else for the past few hours, puzzled since usually a good training sesh would help him tap out of everything. But his mind seemed plagued with you.

The way you spoke about his arm like it was the most amazing thing ever like it hadn’t been the cause of so many deaths. Your complete and utter confidence in your every move and sound. Your outfit, your skirt, and the way it kept riding up your thighs.

Bucky needed a nap.

******

The commons room was close to silent, weirdly silent. it was midday and Bucky sat on a chair, close to a window with his head down into a book. Sam sat close to Steve at the bar, with small and soft chatter. Wanda and Clint were lazily sprawled across the couch, some movie or sitcom playing silently, yet still creating the most noise in the room. The occasional hearty laugh comes from Steve or Sam as they converse competing with the television.

A few chapters later of Bucky’s book the soft sound of a familiar heels clicking entered the quiet common room. His eyes attempted to stay on the pages but curiosity got the best of him and Bucky raised his head slowly to look at you, you were standing close right next to Sam and Steve talking about something. Steve had that big goofy smile on his face and Sam was shaking your hand, Bucky assumed this was the first time Sam has met you.

Your outfit was more mellow than his last interaction with you. A white high-neck tank top hugged your body and another very short black denim skirt that had pleads in it. Over all of that was crocheted black sweater, it hug low and off your shoulder. It looked so thin and the loops so big, bucky pondered on why you were even wearing it. Sam laughed loudly and Bucky wondered what was so funny.

A gasp came from Wanda and her eyes widened in your direction. “Oh my god! Your boots are so adorable!” everyone's head turned to the redhead as she got up from the couch frantically to get a closer look at your knee-high, skin-tight boots. “Are those the steve madden boots? I've heard they're a pain to get on?”

You laughed and Bucky got whiplash, he forgot how nice it sounded. Rolling onto your heels as you looked down at your boots, looking back up at Wanda with a soft smile. “Yeah, they are” Clint's head was now perked up and everyone in the room now had their eyes on you. You didn’t falter under their gazes. “And yes, squeezing my claves into these should count as a physical exercise.”

“I've been trying to find some forever, they've been sold out everywhere,” Wanda said. “They look amazing on you!”

A large smile grew on your face and Bucky swears he saw a sliver of shiny metal shine above your top set of teeth, as it’s said curiosity kills the cat and he was already up from his chair to investigate. Quiet footsteps brought him close beside Steve.

“What’s up, cyborg.” Sam greeted him and Bucky shrugged back a mumbled nothing. Wanda was still gushing about your outfit and Bucky was trying not to look like a total creep staring at your face to see what was in your mouth.

“Party going on here or something? Without me too, I’m offended.” Clint joined the circle around the bar. Your head perked in his direction.

A few loud steps toward Clint as your finger swiped at your iPad. “Mr. Barton, I have some new arrow designs for you! I got pretty impressive ones courtesy of Dr. pym.” as you spoke to Clint, you were much closer to Bucky now, maybe he was staring too hard. He watched your lips move, noticing the metal ring sat above your top row teeth, resembling something of a bull ring. Bucky's eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“Pym? Isn't he the one that made the suit for that dude that can shrink and get big?” Sam spoke up. You stifled a laugh, shaking your head.

“Your talking about Scott Lang right? Dr. Pym likes to call him Ant-man.” you corrected Sam swiftly. “I worked with Dr. Pym briefly years ago, he owes me a few favors so now Clint gets some cool arrows.”

“Hell yeah!” Clint said.

“Alright I have to head to the lab soon, I got some new tech for you too Sam so I expect both you and Clint to meet me there tomorrow to play around with it” you pointed your index finger toward sam with a coy grin on your face.

Sam's eyebrow perked up, “i thought you were a doctor? Like Helen?” he asked with his arms crossed across his chest.

“For your information, I have a very impressive engineering resume. Tony wouldn’t like me so much if I just treated bullet wounds.” grin was still apparent on your face as you spoke. Your sheer confidence intimidated Bucky, whether he’d admit that to himself or not.

“I have to head out now, it was a pleasure meeting you guys.”

Everyone except Bucky said a short goodbye as your clicking heels faded into the distance slowly. Wanda practically skipped back to the couch to watch her sitcom. Bucky must have been staring too hard because he earned a harsh nudge to his side from Sam. “Dude, you got a bad staring problem.”

“What?” his eyebrows still furrowed, the creases around his forehead accentuated more.

“Bucky, you were staring at her lips the moment you walked over here,” Steve added, eyebrows raises and a teased look across his face. Bucky rolled his eyes.

“She had– like something…” Bucky trailed off, motioning his index finger toward his mouth, trying to find the words to describe whatever was in your mouth. “It looked like a ring or something.”

“It's a smiley piercing.”

Bucky winched, “why would it be there though?”

A quick laugh came from Sam as he playfylly slapped his shoulder. “Man, you really are old.”

An offended look grew on Bucky’s face but before he could protest against Sam or send a snarky comment back, Clint spoke up. “Maybe he's just saying that to cover up for thinking she's cute.” Clint teased Bucky, a shit-eating grin across his face.

“Whatever,” Bucky spoke, deciding his time of relaxing was over and he needed to hit the gym before dinner.

But before he could leave the room a quick yell from Clint could be heard, “the robots not denying it!”

Bucky didn’t say anything to entertain that comment. Continuing his way to the gym, followed by a grunt and a quick roll of his eyes. He totally is not thinking of you or your outfits.

*****

It was early morning and the smell of buttermilk pancakes filled bucky’s nostrils, reminding him slightly of when his Ma would cook for him and Steve after a sleepover. But instead, it was Sam making the pancakes, swaying ever so slightly on his feet as he hums to some song. Steve sat next to him with a newspaper in hand. Natasha joined their breakfast a little late, having just come back from a mission.

Sam handed him a plate of food and it didn’t take long for him to finish it and put the empty plate back in the sink to be cleaned later. Steve piped up, “anyone wants to join me on my run this morning? Sam?”

Sam turned the stove off and put away the dirty mixing bowl, “Nah man, I gotta head outside soon and test out that new tech with Clint”

Natasha's head perked up in interest, asking Sam if he was meeting you. A quick nod and hum in agreement.

“She refuses to tell me what she did to my wings, said it has to be a surprise.” he grinned. Bucky has started to notice the way you’re becoming a prominent member of this ‘team’, with your name seemly popping up in every conversation somehow.

Everyone was growing to like you more and more. Bucky could understand why that is but so much about you was so unknown, curiosity filled his mind whenever he thought about you. That is, he totally doesn't spend his off time thinking of you.

“I’m more than positive that girl is going to have ahold of the entire team’s tech by the end of the month,” Natasha spoke. “She’s beyond impressive in her element.”

Bucky thought of a stupid idea for a moment, not being able to hold himself back. “Can I come with?” Bucky asked Sam.

Everyone's head perked towards the brunette, the looks across everyone’s face could only be described as udder amusement but also confusion.

“I mean, I don't see why not.” Sam shrugged, almost unsure of his answer.

Natasha scoffed playfully. “I think Clint was right.”

“What?” Bucky spoke.

“Clint thinks you have a crush on her.” Natasha spoke, sporting an amused grin. “said, and I quote, ‘he was staring at her and her lips like his life depended on it.’”

An almost offended look grew on Bucky’s face, “was not”

Natasha just shrugged, but still wore a smirk on her face as he watched Bucky leave the kitchen next to Sam. Steve's eyes were still locked onto his newspaper like the old man he is but Natasha couldn't contain herself.

“Can you tell when bucky’s interested in people?” she asked Steve.

Steve thought for a moment, “I mean back then he would talk sweetly to any girl he could get on the dance floor, but now. I’m not so sure.”

Natasha hummed in response. “I don't know though, bucky was giving her some looks in the lab and also in the common rooms yesterday,” Steve added quickly.

“Interesting.”

On the other side of the building, Sam and sucky walked side by side as they approached the entrance to the training yard. With the shining sunlight hitting their faces, Bucky kinda wished he grabbed sunglasses.

You and Clint stood in the middle, a couple of meters away from some targets, assuming your arrow test runs have already started. Your head perked towards the two avengers and a warm smile grew on your face as you brought your hand up to shield your eyes from the sun.

“Hey guys!” you yelled, waving your hand in their direction. Bucky was surprised to see you in just a plain black t-shirt and shorts, your shorts were still very short. But at this point that didn’t surprise him. You greeted the both of them, with a notepad in your hands. “goodmorning”

“Alright, watcha got for me doc.” Sam started right into it, jokingly rubbing his hands together in greed.

You laughed softly, “we’ll get to you when it's your turn.’

“I’m excited to see Clint use his Pymarrows.” you turned towards Clint with eyes full of pure desire. Bucky might just have a staring problem or he might have just thought you kinda did look cute.

You pulled a few sets of arrows out of a case and started to ramble on about them, using terms bucky wished he understood. “Okay Clint, you’re going to shoot this arrow up high so the arrow hits straight into the ground, far away from us though.”

You pulled a second arrow out, “and then shoot this one forward right after that so they meet in the air, do you understand? Can you do that?”

Clint nodded yet had a confused look on his face. “Yes, but what's gonna happen?

“You’ll see,” you spoke with a sly smirk, the look on your face concerned the three men. Even more, after a mumbled ‘tony is going to kill me’ escaped your lips.

Clint positioned himself to shoot the arrow high up, and it went up. Next, grabbing the second one from you and swiftly getting in the correct position to hit the first one mid-air, letting the arrow go and as it flew threw the air and came in contact with the first one, Bucky (along with the rest of the group) breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.

Tony was so going to kill you.

“Holy shit.” Sam breathed out.

The first arrow Clint shot grew ten times its size. hitting straight into the lawn, probably leaving a meter-wide hole as it stood up straight into the air, the height of an old tree. Bucky had to crane his head up to see the top. The three boy’s mouths gaped open at the sight while it looked like you were going to burst from excitement.

“Yes! It worked!” you jumped up and down, dramatically throwing your fist in the air like a child. “That's so fucking cool!”

“Oh my god” was the only thing Clint could say, muttering under his breath with his bow still in his hands. “I feel like I’m not responsible enough for this”

Bucky realized why Natasha spoke so highly of you now, he was utterly impressed and his curiosity only grew larger at this moment. He let out a breath and realized he was in for it now.

Bucky found somewhere to sit as he watched you work on arrows and other technology as Clint practiced with a plethora of trick arrows. Seeing the look in your eyes as you explain how they worked or watching your invention sparked something in Bucky, you looked like you were glowing.

Bucky continued to keep close eyes on you while you explained to Sam his new technology, it was also nice seeing Sam's face light up as he tested all his new features, you definitely were having an effect at the compound.

“Hah, soon enough I'll be able to take you easily, Barnes.” Sam snarked towards Bucky.

“In your dreams, Wilson.” a soft smile rose to Bucky’s face. You notice and realized that was the first time you had seen Bucky’s smile.

Sam went back to fly around, testing his new cruise configurations or new thrusters. You were standing closer to Bucky now, your head turned to him. “You should do that more often,” you spoke softly in his direction.

“What?” Bucky’s head turned to see you looking fondly down at him.

“Smile, your smile is nice.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, he was more than sure a slight red tint grew to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He panned his head back to Sam, beginning to fidget by playing with the grass on the ground beside him like a small child. You soon joined Bucky, sitting next to him on the ground.

The awkward silence between the two of you killed Bucky, his head panned back over to you soon enough. You were writing down what Bucky assumed to be notes, your tongue slightly sticking out at the corner in concentration. He noted the plainness of your outfit again.

“No cool outfit today?” Bucky asked innocently

Your eyes met his and he crumbled, you smiled so brightly toward him. “You think my outfits are cool?” you spoke, you aren’t going to lie and say you weren't basking in the validation from the super-soldier. You spent too much time and money on your outfits for people to not amend you for it. You felt slightly giddy, today was a good day.

Bucky shrugged in response, fumbling over his words slightly. Losing his focus while you gave him such a look. “I mean, uh– yeah, they're a lot, but they're cool…”

Smooth, so smooth james.

“Thank you,” you said, going back to writing down notes. Bucky let out a breath. “I’m taking advantage of the compounds gym so I don't have to pay a membership at a public one anymore. I came from a workout before this.”

Bucky just nodded and hummed in agreement. Clint cleaned up his arrows and took one last amused look at the still very large arrow sticking out the front of the ground.

“You gonna take care of that or..?”

You giggled under your breath, squinting your eyes to look up at Clint. “Yeah, I’ll shrink it down and explain to Tony why theirs a big hole in the ground later. You can go if you’d like, I’ll drop off extra trick arrows later.”

You smiled warmly at Clint and grabbed the rest of his stuff before bidding you goodbye, “tell birdy I said bye, see you later lovebirds!” Clint shouted out as he headed for the doors. You shook your head at the teasing comment.

Bucky just felt more warmth spread to his ears.

#bucky x reader #bucky fic #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x female reader #winter soldier #bucky barns x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel #james buchanan barnes

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whats-k-popping · 7 months

Note

sick han with prompts 1, 31, 81 and caretaker chan?

Remember back in July when I opened requests for this prompt list?? I'm so so sorry it's taken me this long to finish! But I hope this anon is still around! Thanks for requesting it. Despite the long time it took me to finish, I really did enjoy writing for Stray Kids. While I really enjoy them, it's the first time writing them. I hope the characterization is decent.

Pairing: Chan x Han - platonic intentions but read as you want.

Prompts: "You're burning up" || "Hey, are you still with me?" || Holding your hair as you're vomiting into the toilet. You keep apologizing, but seriously I don't mind.

Words: 2197

Warnings: Fever || Emeto || Graphic Descriptions of illness || Slight Angst

Jisung's been staring at the same piece of paper for hours now. He holds his head in his hands as he watches the words blur together, swimming around whatever percentage of his vision hasn't been plagued with floating black spots.

He promised Chan he would finish these lyrics, but he hasn't been struck with a single ounce of inspiration. And he's been re-reading the draft for so long that the words he's already written hardly make sense anymore. As much as it pains him to admit, he's not going to be able to finish it.

Chan is sitting at his desk, while Jisung's sitting cross-legged on the floor. It's amazing, Jisung thinks, just how focused and dedicated his leader is. It's nearly 2 AM, and they've been holed up in this studio trying to finish this song since 6 PM. Chan hasn't complained once. He hasn't so much as stopped for a bathroom break, still clicking away on his laptop. Meanwhile, Jisung is putting all his energy into making the words on the paper stay still. It's just not fair.

Eventually, the swirling syllables make his head pound and his stomach roll. He suddenly feels like he's on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a tropical storm. If he so much as glances back at that paper, he's going to lose his dinner. So he pushes the pages aside.

The rapid fluttering of the paper startles Chan, who turns and looks at the youngest producer for the first time in hours. He looks confused, "You good?"

Jisung nods, one up and down motion because anymore may make him dizzier than he already is. "I just need a little break. Been staring at the same thing for too long. It's starting to look like gibberish."

Chan smirks, knowing he's been there before. He glances at the time and is shocked at just how much time has passed. Working until the early hours of the morning is nothing new for him, but usually Jisung calls a quits around midnight. Especially if they have early schedules the next day.

The leader walks over to the younger member and drapes a blanket over his shoulders, "Take a rest. It might help refresh your mind."

Jisung only protests for a moment before he rests his head against his folded arms. The blanket brings him a warmth he didn't realize that he was missing, "Wake me in 30 minutes." He requests before quickly succumbing to the exhaustion.

30 minutes passes like seconds to Chan, never an expert at keeping time when in the production zone. He falls so deep into the track he's working on that he forgets Jisung is even in the room with him. He's reminded when the young rapper lets out a whine loud enough to break through the leader's headphones.

Chan turns his chair to look at Jisung, who is still curled over the table asleep. Despite the whine that alerted him, he seems rather peaceful. So the leader assumes that it was just Jisung talking in his sleep. He's no stranger to the younger mumbling weird and random things in his sleep.

He spares a glance at the clock and finds that two hours passed in the blink of an eye. It's after 4 now and Chan thinks maybe it's time the two of them head back to the dorm. Before Jisung wakes up with an awful cramp in his neck and an ache in his lower back. They have dance practice in the afternoon, and Chan knows Minho will not shy away from scolding him if Jisung's not in his best condition.

Making sure he's triple saved his work, he shuts down his station and slides himself beside the sleeping rapper. As he scoots a little closer, he notices that Jisung's face is glistening with sweat. And his skin is noticeably pale even under the dimmed studio lighting. Weird, he thinks, Jisung seemed fine when they were working earlier. He presses one hand against Jisung's forehead and the other against his own. Jisung's skin is blazing compared to his.

When Chan pulls his hand away, Jisung subconsciously follows. And when he can't find the cool hand anymore, he blinks himself awake with a quivering pout. His eyes eventually settle on Chan's figure beside him and he whines. "Hyung, where'd the cold go?" He slurs the words together, it's nearly indecipherable.

Chan quickly realizes what Jisung wants and holds his hand back out for the rapper. Jisung takes the hands and holds it close to his face like a stuffed animal, nuzzling his cheek into the leader's palm. "Feels nice." He mumbles, nearly falling asleep again. "I feel funny," he admits.

"I'd bet you do," Chan uses his other hand to play with the rapper's sweaty strands of hair, "You're burning up."

Jisung shakes his head, and Chan feels it in both of his hands more than he sees it happening. "No, not that. My tummy." He whines, "my tummy feels funny."

At that, Chan moves the hand from Jisung's hair and presses it over his stomach area. He finds the rapper's middle swollen. And he can feel the organ gurgling angrily through the fabric of Jisung's shirt. "Oh, Hannie." Chan comforts. "You must've caught some kind of bug. Poor thing." He rubs the younger’s stomach, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

Jisung leans into the touch longingly, inching himself closer to Chan. "Hyung, ‘m sorry," he whines, "I don't think I can finish the lyrics tonight." The words fall out of Jisung's mouth like an afterthought, a similar slur to his sleep talking voice.

Chan clicks his tongue. In all honestly, Chan had even forgotten about the lyrics and deadlines and group responsibilities. His sole priority right now is Jisung's health. “Don’t worry about that right now, Sungie.” he reminds in a soft voice as he strokes through Jisung’s sweaty hair. “Let’s just get you back to the dorm.”

What’s usually a simple task seems impossible. Jisung is so out of it, he can’t even force himself to stand on his own. Chan has to pull him up by the armpits. And even once he’s on his feet, Jisung sways a little before his head falls against Chan’s shoulder. “Hey,” he nudges the younger, “Are you still with me?” he panics, thinking Jisung had passed out on him. At this point, he’s thinking of skipping the dorm altogether and going right to the hospital. Jisung’s gotten too sick too quickly.

When he feels Jisung nod his head against his chest, he relaxes a bit, just relieved that his dongsaeng is still conscious. He does his best to keep Jisung engaged while he thinks up a plan to get them back to the dorm. Walking doesn’t seem like a reliable option.

While Chan comes to terms with the fact that he’s going to have to carry his sick member home, Jisung pushes Chan away with a force the leader didn’t know he still had. Jisung’s eyes widen and he lets out a wet hiccup. Clamping a hand over his mouth, Jisung runs out of the studio. Chan doesn’t have time to question the newfound burst of energy as he bolts after him. He follows him into the bathroom and into the largest stall at the far end. Jisung doesn’t even try to waste time locking the door. There are no obstacles in Chan’s way, which he greatly appreciates.

Jisung bends at the waist over the clean bowl, stomach contents immediately slip between his finger tips, staining the seat and the walls. Some droplets splatter on the floor in front of him. He removes his now vomit soaked hand and uses it to grip the side of the bowl, mirroring his other hand. For a second, they are the only thing keeping him from smacking his head against the porcelain. But two hands support him quickly, one on his waist and the other on his shoulder. Jisung doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to resist as they guide him into a kneeling position. It’s probably for the best. His legs have nothing left after his sprint from the studio.

“Okay, okay,” Chan soothes. “I’ve got you.”

Jisung just shakes his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he continues to heave into the toilet. He has so many things he wants to say, but he can’t get a syllable out between gags. It’s warm and it burns his throat. The taste left behind just makes him more nauseous. When he sniffles, the sting of vomit burns the back of his nose. It’s a miserable experience.

Strands of Jisung’s longer hair dangle in front of his face, frequently getting caught up in the sick pouring from his mouth. Chan does his best to pull them back, but every time he thinks he has them all one strand falls loose and dangles around the younger's mouth. It's a never ending cycle of carding and tugging at Jisung's hair. Chan even gets remnants of vomit on his hands in the process. But he manages to hold back the grimaces of disgust to spare Jisung's feelings.

Jisung momentarily loses his sense of awareness to his surroundings. The only thing he can think about is the eruption of mostly digested food, stomach acid and bile pouring out of him. Every time he thinks it's over, he's starting again before he can even get in a decent breath. After 10 agonizing minutes, Jisung finally catches a break. He's able to take a deep breath that doesn't trigger a wave of nausea and assumes his whole body is empty. There's a hollow feeling in his abdomen and he briefly wonders if he's actually thrown up all of his organs in the midst of it all.

He's shocked into reality when present company tugs at his hair, jostling his whole head. He's got a headache now, and that didn't help. He looks at the offending individual with as much malice as he can muster. It's a mere 2% intimidating.

"Do you feel a bit better now that you've gotten it all out?" Chan asks, so gentle and kind and hand still clamped to the back of Jisung's head. He doesn't look mad.

Jisung can't understand why he isn't. He sniffles, trying to ward off a new wave of tears. He's not sure why he's crying now. Maybe it's shame, or guilt. It could be the headache. It's probably the fever. But there's a lot going on. Jisung is overstimulated by his own emotions. It pours out of him like a fountain. "I'm sorry, hyung!" He whimpers.

"I'm sorry for being so gross. I didn't mean to. And you had to stay with me."

"Hannie-"

"And I missed the toilet a bit. I made a mess here. And some of it got on you. I'm so sorry,"

"Han, it's-"

"What if you get sick now? How will we get work done?" Jisung's eyes widen, "and I didn't finish the lyrics like I promised. I'm sorry, hyung! I tried. And you couldn't finish your work either. You stopped to take care of me."

"Han Jisung!" Chan tried a third time in a more demanding tone. It startled the younger rapper, which Chan feels bad about. His dongsaeng needs comfort. Not scoldings. But it did finally got him to stop rambling. He softens his tone quickly. "You don't need to apologize for anything, alright?" He assures.

Jisung just continues looking at him, still too stunned by his hyung's authoritative tone to react.

"Everybody gets sick sometimes. It's out of our control. It's my job, as your leader and your hyung to take care of you when you need it. So I need you to let you me. And don't worry about work or the deadlines. I know you're doing your best with the lyrics. And they will still be there when you're feeling ready to finish them. But for now you need to focus on your health and getting better. Do you understand?" Jisung nods. "Good, now. How are you feeling? Any better than earlier?"

Jisung shakes his head this time. "My tummy feels empty now. But I have a headache, and I'm really really cold." He admits, "Hyung, I just wanna go home."

"That's my Hannie," Chan smiles, petting the younger man's hair. "Let's get you home. I'll get you two days off schedules so you can rest up. How does that sound?"

Jisung smiles a bit. Chan thinks it's the smallest smile he's ever seen in his life. "Thank you, hyung"

"You're welcome Sungie." He helps the younger to stand up and guides him out of the bathroom. He asks Jisung to wait on a hallway bench while he calls Changbin. It's nearly 5 AM now, and the third 3racha member is probably waking up to get ready for his morning workout. Probably the only member ever willingly awake this early, besides the ones who don't sleep.

While they wait for their fellow producer, Jisung bobs in and out of sleep leaning against the bathroom wall. Chan's taken to cleaning the mess that became of the stall without complaint. Because that's just what hyungs do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: The ending feels a little rushed to me. I always feel like I want to keep writing until the sickie feels better, but that would be a super long fic. So I apologize for the abrupt ending.

As always, thanks for reading to the end! I really appreciate each and every one of you who make it this far! Feedback is always appreciated. And please let me know if I missed any tags or TWs. Please call me out for any errors you notice!

#stray kids #stray kids sickfic #skz sickfic #sick!Han #caretaker!Chan #skz fever #skz emeto #tw fever #tw emeto #aki sickfic #aki writes #aki requests

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ladyhoneydee · 7 months

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30 Day Song(fic) Challenge: Day 6

The Song(fic) Challenge prompt for today was "A song that comforts you". As a person with a brain that is occasionally pretty bad, I have a whole host of songs I could have chosen, but I decided to go with the song that has single-handedly (single-notedly?) brought me out of a mental slump more times than I can count: "00:00 (Zero O'Clock)" by BTS.

Today's fic is also my first continuation within this challenge! Picking up a few years from where "a gentle wildness" left off, we encounter a Zelda who is struggling immensely with her workload and life as Queen of Hyrule, and the lover who is there to comfort her.

growing in the dark

Game: Twilight Princess, post-canon

Pairing: Zelink

Word Count: 1912

Keywords: angst, hurt/comfort, breakthrough, fluff

“Do you think it will be different?” Her voice was a raspy, choked croak. Hardly recognizable. “Not at first.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she accepted it with only a slight pang of pain. “It will take time for the changes you want to take place. But this day will be over. You won’t need to live this moment again.”

Read the fic on Ao3, or under the cut!

Night fell over Zelda’s office in a spectrum of indigo. Twilight melted into gloaming; gloaming subsided to moonrise. Her eyes stung from squinting at the papers, even when she sparked Din’s Fire at her right index finger to light the trio of candles at the head of her desk. There was a pounding in her head like hoofbeats towards the breach.

It was just such a mess. Her desk was only the visual representation of her affairs: papers scattered; ink splotched on important documents that she had to redo, else she risk derision; stacks of correspondence higher than two of her handspans. She had vowed that morning that she wouldn’t leave her desk until she got through all of the grant requests and legislation proposals at least, but here she was, the hand on her wall clock approaching midnight, and she had gotten through less than three-quarters of it. A trend, of late, no matter how she tried to fight it.

‘A whole three-quarters!’ Link might have said, had he been there to see it. Her partner always was a glass-half-full sort of person, and doubly so when encouraging her. She denied the allegations of being a pessimist—and wouldn’t I have reason to be, given how my life has gone so far?—but tonight…

No, it was just the late hour. She was just tired. This night didn’t mark a trend towards unhappiness in her manner any more than any other night did. She was sure of it.

She dipped her quill into the ink pot, only for her fatigue-trembling fingers to nearly knock the squat ceramic over. Swearing, she threw the quill to the floor in an attempt to avoid ink droplets raining down on the second copy she’d made that night of the granary permissions form. Raven splotches bloomed over the simple rug.

That’s it. Her work may not have finished, but she needed to be done. She needed to take a break for the night, to let sleep revitalize her aching head and shaking frame and sluggish mind. She stood abruptly, pushing back her chair and sending the desk rattling. At that, she swore again, but with rather more defeat in her tone than before.

Her office wasn’t far from her suite. It was a purposeful choice, when she’d first taken the weight of the crown. Her life was to be spent in service to the people, after all; she needed to be closest to the place where the majority of her work was truly carried out. (The distance from the throne room that this additionally provided was certainly not at all intentional, of course.) When fully awake and refreshed, she could stride down the three hallways in merely three minutes.

Tonight, she only reached the doorway to her sanctuary after five stumbling minutes, one hand bracing her against the cold stone wall.

“Your Majesty! Are you quite well?”

The night on duty was…Fledge, she thought, although the name came more slowly to her than she would have liked.

“I am, Sir Fledge. Merely tired.” She attempted a weak smile that even to her felt more like a grimace, and tacked on, “Thank you for your concern.”

“I hope your sleep is restful!” Under the half-mask of the knight’s helmet, she thought she saw him bite his lip. “And…it’s Pipit, Your Majesty.”

Oh, fires of Din, had she truly mistaken one of the guards she encountered every day?

Oblivious to her internal self-degradation, Sir Pipit had begun to panic. “I don’t mean to accuse you, Your Majesty! Only, you told me when I began my tenure as a personal guard that I should correct you were you to mistake me for someone else. I thought that might extend to now, but of course I may have been mista—“

“Sir Pipit, I appreciate the correction greatly, and I apologize for my blunder,” Zelda said wearily. “There is no need to fear my wrath. You have done nothing to earn it.” And there is no need for it to weigh more heavily on you than anyone else’s, regardless.

“Understood, Your Majesty.” He granted her a tentative wisp of a smile. “I bid you a good night, then.”

“A good night to you as well, Sir Pipit.”

Zelda turned the doorknob, barely noticing Pipit’s salute in her peripheral vision as she fumbled her way into her suite.

Her shoes came off at the door, on the woven-reed rug Link had received from Uli as a gift the last time they’d gone on holiday to Ordon. Link’s were there as well, although haphazardly, with one muddy brown boot sitting up straight and the other flopped on its side like a dying fish. Craving nothing more than her partner’s casual warmth, she crossed the sitting room into their bedroom as swiftly as she was able, without tripping over her own leaden feet.

Link was asleep, but she could tell immediately that it hadn’t been intentional. Besides the candle burning low on his bedside table, he lay over the bedclothes rather than beneath them, and had a book still held open against his chest. Tired eyes squinched in an irrepressible smile, Zelda gently lifted it from his loosely clenched hands, and placed it next to the candle—although not so close that any wayward wax would drip on it.

She could hear him begin to stir as she removed her day dress and pulled a clean chemise over her head, the fabric of her nightclothes and the sheets he rested upon rustling in tandem.

“You were up late,” his voice murmured from behind. Zelda stopped, but didn’t turn. “Did you finish everything you wanted to?”

Her shoulders collapsed, and her chin drooped down toward her cotton-covered chest. “...No. I failed to do so.”

“Zelda.”

The warm weight of his hand rested upon the flat of her shoulder blade, fingers curling lightly up and over. Her lip quivered, but she did not permit the moisture in her eyes to fall.

“You didn’t fail, my love. You got, mm, thousands of papers further in than you were before. Every bit counts.”

She burbled a laugh. “Hundreds, maybe. But…”

She turned to face him, burying her face in the soft, worn fabric of his sleep shirt. One blink dampened it beneath her cheeks.

“Every day lately has…” Her breath caught. “I was thinking earlier that tonight wasn’t an omen of unhappiness more than any other night. And I was right, but…in the opposite direction, I believe. I…” She took a shuddering breath. “I find myself desperately unhappy lately. I feel as though I am a horse leaping endless hurdles, without an end to the road in sight. My heart crumples under the strain of this endless pushing.”

Wordlessly, Link’s lips came to rest on the crown of her head. The soft pressure gave her the strength to speak on.

“I can’t help but think that…I’m not suited for this role. I can’t handle all the work that comes directly to me. Even with a council, it’s not enough. My eyes must be on every document; my ears must hear every citizen and leader’s concern…it’s exhausting, Link!” She pushed back from his chest with a sudden burst, wildly seeking the solace of his eyes. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. And I–I’ve failed my people, I’ve failed my pare—”

“Zelda, Zelda, no!” Hands came up to cup her face. “You haven’t failed anyone. You haven’t.”

Her breaths, which had been coming so quickly and sharply, broke into a sob.

“It’s my fault. Why couldn’t I just stay as happy as I was when I was crowned? When you and I first fell in love? How could I let myself fall so far? To care for this kingdom is my born duty!”

“You can’t expect yourself to stay at the same heights of happiness forever,” Link murmured. “It’s unfair to you. Especially under such a heavy burden.” He took a breath. “You are at fault for the mistakes you make, but—” Seeing her mouth open in shocked hurt, he pressed a finger to her lips. “—but, sweetheart, no one can be suited for a role like yours. Not alone.”

Tears coursed down her face. “I–I. You…you’re right.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You…you’re right. I…”

“Yes?”

“I want…”

“What is it you want, Zelda?”

Her name. “I want to—I want to be just Zelda. I don’t want to be Queen anymore.”

Though the words were loosed from her own lips, Zelda was the one who flinched on their release, at the simultaneous gut punch and weight lifted from her shoulders at the confession.

“I want more than a council for me to consult, but ultimately rule over unilaterally. I want more than a single mind’s attention on half of the documents that directly impact the people of Hyrule. I want representatives from the provinces to be able to speak for themselves, rather than necessarily speaking to me. I want—I want fewer papers on my desk, dammit!

“I don’t want to be Queen. I want something different, for myself and for Hyrule.”

She chanced a look into her lover’s eyes. They glowed brighter than the candlelight, and twice as warm.

“I’m so proud of you, Zelda.”

She crumbled.

Her knees gave out at the same time as another sob—this time, of relief—tore from her chest, and Link let out a sharp breath as he caught her against his chest. He stumbled backwards to the bed and sat her down like a child, as tears streamed down her face with such velocity that she couldn’t see, no matter how she wiped at her eyes. Wails echoed against the stone walls of their bedroom, and the slap of shame she felt at her wanton noisiness only made her louder.

She wasn’t sure how long she cried, curled against Link’s increasingly damp torso, wiping tears and mucus on his shirt and her hands and chemise. The only thing to tell time by was the glide of his comforting hand up and down her back, and even that felt random. Still, the flow began to slow, so gradually she only noticed it when she realized her breaths were no longer shuddering out of her chest like windows in a pane.

“Do you think it will be different?” Her voice was a raspy, choked croak. Hardly recognizable.

“Not at first.” It wasn’t the answer she wanted, but she accepted it with only a slight pang of pain. “It will take time for the changes you want to take place. But this day will be over. You won’t need to live this moment again.”

Cool, blue relief.

Taking control of her body for the first time in what could have been minutes or hours, Zelda scooted back on the mattress to assume her normal place on the left side of the bed. She gently guided Link down beside her. He followed gladly, only pausing in his pursuit to blow out the candle.

In the dark, his arms found her waist and wrapped around her. Close. Warm. She could feel his heartbeat, slow and steady, thrumming against her own chest, coaxing her own to meet its rhythm.

“Link?” she whispered, after a few moments in the sanctimonious dark.

“Mm?”

“Do you…think I’ll be happy again? Someday?”

His embrace tightened, and she sighed lightly and snuggled closer to his warm bulk as his lips found the place where her neck and shoulder joined.

“Yes, my love. You will be happy.”

#loz #zelink #twilight princess #tp zelink #my fanfiction #fanfic #30 day song(fic) challenge

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wrienne · 1 year

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My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 6: Jung-Hyun's Past

You slammed your fist into the cool surface of the kitchen isle counter. Frustration numbed the pain that had blossomed throughout your hand, and you were tempted to hit something else in an attempt to retain that feeling of numbness.

For your heart felt like it had ruptured.

Why did it have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t you just trust Jungkook? Why had you allowed the conversation to derail as quickly as it had?

Why couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?

You didn’t know for how long you remained in the kitchen, constantly questioning yourself, but sleep soon came for you and forced you to bed. Your brain kept replaying the end of the conversation throughout the rest of the week, however, and that made it nearly impossible for you to concentrate on your tasks at the office. Jung-Hyun didn’t comment on your behavior, and so you thought you were doing a good job of masking just how distracted you were, but by the time Friday afternoon rolled around, he startled you by all of a sudden canceling dinner.

“What?”

You were sitting in your father’s office, buried underneath a sea of paperwork that you had yet to memorize, when Jung-Hyun announced the abrupt change of plans. He was seated before you, remaining by your side much like he had done all week. Over the course of the week, Jung-Hyun had been your guide both in the physical and mental world, leading you around the building when you needed to as well as helping you learn more about the state of business and Phoenix Inc. and your role in all of it. He still stubbornly insisted on calling you huijang-nim, but he had gotten better at not saying it while you were just two. His presence was invaluable, really, and even though you felt bad about the fact that his former position as director had been revoked, you were glad that he was with you.

“I canceled our dinner reservations this morning,” he repeated, his stiff, somber voice patient.

“Yes, but why?” you asked, your mind returning to the issue at hand. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I am quite well.” His eyes, which were so similar to Jungkook in so many ways, were unreadable as always as they regarded you. “It is you I’m concerned about. Did something happen to your father?”

When you returned to work that Wednesday, you had updated Jung-Hyun about your father’s condition. You had hoped the bad news would work as somewhat of a cover-up for your poor performance, but now grimaced when you realized that wasn’t the case.

“No,” you replied. “No, he’s fine. He sends pictures from Jeju Island all the time.”

“Then, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s on your mind?”

“What makes you think I have something on my mind?” you asked intentionally innocently.

Jung-Hyun’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Your mother told me your fluent in Chinese, but I still caught you making numerous easily avoidable language mistakes during the call you had yesterday with the Chinese investor. You had to read Ju-Min’s review of Phoenix Inc.’s central assets for a whole day before you understood anything when I asked you about it, and you seemed only barely cognizant during the meetings with the department heads and managers yesterday and the day before.”

You swallowed. Judging by the look in Jung-Hyun’s eyes, there were more examples that he simply hadn’t bothered to voice yet. But what possible story could you conjure up that would explain your absent-mindedness? It wasn’t as if you could blame it on your father, since you didn’t know how much Jung-Hyun communicated with your parents and you didn’t want to risk him revealing to them just how much stress your father’s weak health was causing you. But you couldn’t exactly tell Jung-Hyun the truth either.

After all, you two were still supposed to be engaged.

“It’s…” You contemplated saying “nothing”, but that sounded stupid even in your own head. “...complicated,” you finished as you lowered your focus to the cluttered desk. “I’ll be better next week.”

Jung-Hyun said nothing, but you could still felt the weight of his gaze on you. You tried to figure out a continued explanation, or at least some sort of half-adequate clarification, but you came up empty every time. Partly because you didn’t dare to lie, and partly because of the bitter pain in your heart.

Neither you nor Jungkook had made an attempt of contacting one another even once after his abrupt departure that Tuesday evening. You didn’t know what it meant from his side, but you knew that you simply didn’t have the courage to call him. There was also admittedly a part of you that were too proud to apologize. Because although it was technically your fault your evening with Jungkook had been ruined, you weren’t wholly to blame. You would have never gotten as angry as you would have if he hadn’t accused you of cheating on him, an accusation made so much worse what with your history - and the omission of his and Yi-Jae’s romantic duet from any of your earlier conversations.

“I see,” said Jung-Hyun finally.

You looked up. He wore an unreadable expression as always, which made it hard to gauge his true intents, but you decided to take his answer for what it was. “Thank you for thinking about my wellbeing, but you should have asked me before you cancelled. I’m guessing we can’t re-reserve a table, right?”

Jung-Hyun nodded once.

“You…” You paused, then went for it. “You haven’t reconsidered telling me more about yourself, have you? Is that the real reason why you cancelled our dinner tonight?”

“No,” he replied. If he was offended or perhaps amused by your blunt question, you did not know. “I told you I would, and therefore I will.”

“Are you sure?” You weren’t going to lie, ever since he had first told you that he would reveal more of himself, there had been a growing seed of suspicion that Jung-Hyun was regretting his decision.

“I’m certain.”

“Well, can’t we just talk here?” you wondered carefully. “It’s a more private setting than a restaurant, so you won’t have to worry about potentially being overheard.”

Jung-Hyun glanced at his wristwatch. “Are you not hungry?”

“Not really.” Truth is, you were, but you could persevere. “We can get something to eat later. So what do you say?”

“Okay.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t continue immediately. Instead, he remained quiet as he seemed to gather himself. Anticipation made you tense up your muscles, and you forced yourself to relax. Leaning back into your father’s big desk chair, you let out a small breath of air and intertwined your fingers in an attempt to keep them away from scratching up your arms.

“I was fourteen when I moved to Seoul.” Jung-Hyun’s eyes were distant as he finally spoke. “Since I was and had always been at the top of my class, I managed to convince my aunt to let me move to her apartment so that I could live closer to the SKY-universities, which I hoped to apply for when I was old enough. I wanted to become a doctor or lawyer or a businessman. At least, that’s what I told my parents and my aunt.”

Jung-Hyun let out what could have been a quiet snort before he went on. “I don’t know if you remember, but my father used to work underneath yours for over a decade ago until he went about to start a business of his own. He couldn’t get enough financial aid from the bank, however, so your father lent him some. But my father has never been good with money.

“Instead of using it for his business, as he had said he would, he used everything to clear up his old debts with the local loan sharks. He then borrowed the same amount from loan sharks in a different area to start up his business, but eventually lost everything on bad investments and needless spending. It didn’t take very long before he went to additional loan sharks to pay back the other ones, and he continued to bury us deeper in debt through this endless cycle of worthless money.

“Meanwhile, the conditions at home were worsening.” Jung-Hyun clasped his hands together and looked at you, his expression solemn. “As you already know, Jungkook was affected very severely by my father’s… treatment , but so was my mother. And so was I.”

You remembered when Jungkook had revealed this same information a few months ago, but he had never mentioned anything about Jung-Hyun. You had just naturally assumed that it was because Jung-Hyun hadn’t been present during that time, but clearly, you had been wrong. Jungkook had merely decided not to speak about Jung-Hyun.

“Did he…” You soaked your lips. “Did he hit you, too?”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes were unreadable. “He didn’t lift a hand against me like he did Jungkook and my mother, but he did tell me to do things. Things that changed me, perhaps permanently.”

“What things?”

Jung-Hyun hesitated, and you saw a shadow of uncertainty cross the surface of his eyes before he continued. “I… I was a very unassuming child, growing up. I was thin, short and so nervous and shy and frightened all the time that I could barely speak without stuttering. I was quiet most of the time, and hid behind books whenever I could. I despised being in the center of attention.

“All of this caused me to get bullied a lot. When my father discovered that, he blamed me for it. He said it was my own fault for being so weak, and did what he could to make me ‘stronger’.”

“Like what?” you asked carefully.

You didn’t want to prod, but you felt compelled to find out more in detail so that you could understand Jung-Hyun and his past better and thereby help him. Because that’s what you wanted to do. You didn’t know how, or if it was even possible, but you knew you had to at least try. If it was because of guilt or perhaps even that superhero complex that Se-Eun kept nagging you about, you did not know. You only hoped you weren’t being too nosy or appeared insensitive - and that Jung-Hyun would open up to you.

Jung-Hyun seemed contemplative for a moment, his focus drifting sideways. The silence lasted so long you thought he might have just refused answering your question altogether when he finally spoke.

“I was nine when he enrolled me into every martial arts class that I could possibly attend. I was ten when I managed to run a eight kilometer lap without pausing. I was eleven when he forced me to stand out on the balcony twice every week for a whole day in winter, wearing nothing but underpants and a t-shirt. I was twelve when I realized I had forgotten how it feels to cry.”

You raised a hand to your mouth to hide just how shocked you were, but Jung-Hyun probably read the emotion in your eyes anyway. He shifted slightly where he sat, and averted his gaze again.

“I was overjoyed when I boarded the plane to Seoul,” he told you quietly. “My aunt was very lenient as a guardian, and allowed me to do whatever I wanted to as long as I was first in my class, which I always was. I felt free for the first time in my life, and that freedom intoxicated me.”

“It didn’t take long before I got into the wrong circle of friends, but it wasn’t until my aunt was relocated to Suwon due to her work that I truly stepped into the criminal world.” The corners of Jung-Hyun’s lips curved downward. “That’s when I encountered the Hwan Song Sun Pa.”

“I had a lesser following of my own during high school, which drew the attention of one of their bosses. I didn’t want to join at first, but they were very persuasive, and I eventually gave in. It didn’t take me long to climb the ranks within the organization, and I soon caught the eye of the Boss.”

Jung-Hyun didn’t have to clarify what he meant by “the Boss”. There was an immense sense of respect and gratitude in his stiff, somber voice, and although he had sounded reluctant, almost ashamed throughout his reminiscence, he now spoke with the kind of faint happiness nostalgic memories could sometimes evoke.

“The Boss saved me,” he told you. “I never applied for university since I thought I would be doing mob-related stuff from thereon, but he saw just how uncertain I really was about their endeavor. I didn’t see a future within the criminal world, at least not a long one, and although I was afraid to say it, I had to tell him the truth when he demanded it from me. I thought he was going to punish me, or even dispose of me, but all he did was to tell me to come see him after I was done serving my time at the military.”

“I was twenty-two when I returned to Suwon. I didn’t know what I was expecting when I saw the Boss, but it was definitely not what I was actually met with. He gave me more money than I had ever seen in my entire life and told me I had been accepted by Harvard Business School.”

You didn’t want to interrupt Jung-Hyun, who rarely spoke as much as he currently was, but you had to. “Why?” you wondered. “And what was the catch?”

“I wasn’t to return to South Korea,” replied Jung-Hyun solemnly. “Or at least not come in contact with any members of the organization, or really, the whole criminal world, for as long as I lived. As for why he aided me, I do not know. But he was a good man - a better man than anyone might have expected from a person in his position. Perhaps he wanted to give me a second chance. Perhaps he was afraid that my ambivalence would disturb my performance at work.”

“‘Was’?” you echoed, the word unable to slip past your tense senses.

There wasn’t even the slightest hint of emotion on Jung-Hyun’s features as he spoke. “He died. One year ago, if certain people are to be believed.”

You frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

A slight line appeared between Jung-Hyun’s brows. “I have been in contact with a few of my old friends from the organization, but I did not know if I could trust them. I therefore decided to get information from other sources.”

“But didn’t your boss tell you explicitly not to?”

Jung-Hyun nodded, his jaw setting firmly.

You swallowed, sensing a connection. “Does this have something to do with last month when I saw you in your hotel room?”

His jaw clenched further. “Perhaps,” he said. “But perhaps it would have occurred regardless of whether I made my presence known or not. What matters is that I’m one step closer to finding out how the Boss died. Or rather, how he was murdered.”

“You’re on some kind of revenge quest?” you asked with a deep frown.

“No. I’m on a hunt for justice.”

You rubbed your forehead. “But why? It sounds like the reason your boss sent you overseas was so you could get away from all this criminal stuff. Why return to it?”

A hint of sorrow filled Jung-Hyun’s eyes as he aimed them at you. “Being part of a crime organization as large and powerful as the Hwan Song Sun Pa is not like having a job, (Y/N). It’s a lifestyle, and it’s as difficult to get out of as the tattoo on my shoulder. Even if I were to remove it with laser operations, I can never truly get the traces of it out of my cells. Even if I were to hide it underneath clothes or makeup, I cannot forget it - and how it has forged me. The least I can do is to help vindicate the death of the closest person I’ve ever had to a proper fatherfigure.”

It was quiet for a long time between you two after that. You had a few dozen inquires you wanted answered, like how he first met “the Boss” and what he’s been doing ever since he returned to South Korea, but there was a question that burned brighter than all of them combined.

“Jung-Hyun,” you began slowly, skipping the “oppa” in light of such a serious conversation. “I don’t know what the hierarchy of a crime syndicate looks like, but for you to have gained such a huge favor from the leader must mean you used to be quite important in general. What exactly did you do while you were a member of the Hwan Song Sun Pa?”

Jung-Hyun didn’t respond. He simply stared out of the panoramic windows, his eyes tracking something moving far away.

“Jung-Hyun,” you tried again, although his reluctance was practically tangible. “What made you climb the ranks so fast? What did you do? And what are you going to do if you find the culprit of your Boss’ murderer?”

With a shudder that you fought to hide, you involuntarily recalled the scenery in Jung-Hyun’s hotel room, almost one month ago. Aside from the cuts on his hands and forearms, there had been a lot more scars on his body than you had time to count them during your short visit. Almost all of them had looked different from one another, which probably meant he had gotten them separately over the years. And if you assumed he hadn’t been in a ugly fight since after the military when he was sent off to Harvard, that meant he must have gotten the scars before and or during his time in the army.

Judging by the sheer amount of scars, that could hardly bode well.

Jung-Hyun rubbed his clean-shaven jaw for a few moments, his eyes still locked onto the scenery below, before he abruptly stood up. “I need a smoke,” he murmured as he turned away from you.

“I’ll come along,” you said immediately and rose.

Jung-Hyun froze and peered over his shoulder at you. “You don’t have to,” he said, his features stiff. It was clear what he really meant: he didn’t want you to come along.

“It’s fine,” you said insistently as you gathered up your phone and purse. “I need some fresh air.”

“You won’t be getting that near me.”

“Besides,” you went on, ignoring Jung-Hyun’s comment, “I’m hungry. We don’t have to eat somewhere fancy to fill our stomachs, right? Let’s go get some samgyeopsal.”

He let out a heavy sigh. “I don’t want to talk more about my past, (Y/N). Not tonight, at least.”

Jung-Hyun’s tone had quivered toward the end of the sentence, and for a second, you thought you saw the boy he had told you he once was. Timid, quiet and scared and “weak”. Sympathy rose within you, and you felt briefly ashamed over your curiosity.

“Alright,” you said reluctantly. “I won’t mention it more tonight. But I need to know more. I need to know why.”

“Why?”

“To help you, of course,” you said truthfully.

Jung-Hyun turned around fully. Judging by the ever so slight furrow between his brows, he seemed to doubt you, or at least be uncertain. “So you’re not going to report me to the police?”

“Have you done something bad?”

“Not yet.”

You pursed your lips. “Jung-Hyun, I’m not going to let you do something illegal.”

“I can’t promise you I will be able to restrain myself once I identify the people responsible for the Boss’ death.”

You opened your mouth to protest and plead for him to see reason, but then caught yourself. Jung-Hyun was already searching for a way to get out of the conversation, which was understandable, but not the result you sought. Even if the two of you spoke about nothing but work the rest of that evening, you would be fine spending that time with him.

For now you realized just how emotionally scarred he really must be - and how long he must have battled the ghosts of his past by himself.

You grabbed your blazer, which you had discarded earlier when you were getting frustrated over numbers and names. “As long as you don’t do something illegal,” you began in a lenient tone, “I won’t get the police involved. But please don’t try to do things on your own. We can hire private investigators to figure out who the culprit is.”

“Why?” he murmured.

You raised your brows. “Well, because that’s what private investigators are for, aren’t they? Snooping around, getting information...”

Jung-Hyun shook his head. “No, I mean why are you helping me? I thought...” His voice trailed away, and he lowered his gaze.

“You thought what?” you asked gently.

“I haven’t told anyone about this, ever. I didn’t think you would be so… tolerant.”

You paused at this. There were countless of ways you could answer his question, half of which were somewhat true, half of which were somewhat untrue. You knew you cared about Jung-Hyun, if not as a fiancé then at least as a friend, and you didn’t want him to get hurt. However, there was also a part of you that was afraid of what Jung-Hyun’s past occupation might entail, especially since he had so clumsily dodged answering your inquiry earlier. You had absolutely no wish of entering the criminal world, but if Jung-Hyun felt compelled for whatever reason to pursue the murderer or murderers of a man who once did him a great kindness, you wouldn’t let him walk alone.

Because he had walked alone long enough already.

“I…” you started, before you bit your lower lip. How were you supposed to explain to Jung-Hyun how you felt in regard to his predicaments, both past and present? How could you voice just how much sympathy you felt for both him and Jungkook, and how badly you wanted to help them both? How could you say that without sounding condescending?

You shook your head clear from thoughts. Hesitating wouldn’t do. No, you needed to find a way to express your attitude in a manner that wouldn’t be plain stupid or patronizing. And you might have just the right solution, now that you thought about it.

“We’re in this together now,” you said and held up your left hand, which bore the ring he had bought you. “I have a responsibility to both Phoenix and my parents, but I also have a responsibility to you.”

Jung-Hyun’s eyes were nothing but dark pools as he regarded you for a long while. You shifted awkwardly, wondering briefly if you had been too forward with your implication, while simultaneously feeling a bit ashamed inside. You weren’t technically cheating on neither Jungkook nor Jung-Hyun, but you knew that it wasn’t the most optimal of situations. If only Jungkook could get over his jealousy and find a way to get along with Jung-Hyun, you wouldn’t have to lie to either of them. But for now, you knew that you had to keep them apart.

“I see.”

Jung-Hyun turned back around and started toward the door. You opened your mouth, thinking he might have decided to disregard your words, when he glanced over his shoulder and halted.

“Let’s eat.”

Humid air immediately clung to your body and hair by the time you and Jung-Hyun exited the enormous revolving door at the front of the Phoenix Inc. Seoul Headquarters. Glancing up at the sky, you saw that the clouds were already gathering for another night of drenching rain. You only hoped the two of you would find shelter and food before that happened.

Silently, you followed Jung-Hyun down the street. He wore an unreadable expression, as per usual, and remained expressionless as he took out a tiny white and red packet from his inner chest pocket. He unceremoniously placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a lighter he carried in his pocket, letting out a cloud of white smoke in the shadow of the dingy alley you two had entered.

You leaned against the wall next to him and tried your best to inhale as little of the foul smoke as possible. He said nothing, and neither did you, and at first, it didn’t really bother you. But by the time Jung-Hyun lit his third cigarette, the silence turned to, if not awkwardness, then plain idleness.

You turned toward Jung-Hyun, who stood with his back against the building wall. “Why did you come back to South Korea?” you wondered.

Jung-Hyun’s eyes widened ever so slightly as he glanced your direction. “I was told by my mother that you refused to marry Jungkook and that I would therefore have to step in.”

“Would you have returned otherwise?”

“No.”

You gave him a small smile, even though a twinge of guilt pierced your heart. “Thanks. For coming, I mean. You must have left a lot behind in the States.”

He let out a puff of smoke. “Are you wondering if I had a girlfriend?”

You blushed. “No,” you said truthfully. “I didn’t even think about that.”

The corners of Jung-Hyun’s thin lips curved infinitesimally upward. “Really?” he asked, a hint of amusement entering his otherwise somber, stiff tone.

“Really,” you affirmed.

“Aren’t you going to ask me about her?”

You arched your brows. “You had a girlfriend?” you exclaimed, unable to hide your shock.

“Is it really that unlikely?”

If you hadn’t known that the slight curve of his mouth was the extent of Jung-Hyun’s amusement, at least what you had witnessed thus far, you might have thought he was being sarcastic, or even offended. You knew better than to assume the latter two, however, and quickly sent him an apologetic smile.

“I--no,” you amended hastily. “I just, I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.”

Jung-Hyun tapped his cigarette with his finger, releasing a thin sliver of ash that fell to the ground, blending with the bleak colour of the old asphalt. “Apart from a handful of friends,” he began, “I did have a girlfriend.”

“Oh, okay,” you said, still embarrassed over your recent misstep. “Were you two together for long?”

Jung-Hyun lifted and lowered the cigarette to his lips once. The smoke escaped through the right corner of his mouth, and rose slowly toward the sky. “We met the very first day I went to Harvard,” he told you. “We got along from start. I would have liked to stay in contact with her even after I came back here, but that would not be appropriate considering my current status.”

“So you broke up with her and haven’t spoken to her since you left?”

“Yes.”

You pursed your lips and stared down at the ground. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled.

“Why are you sorry?”

“You had to leave so much behind because of me,” you replied stiffly. “And I never even thought about it before now.”

“It’s fine.”

You looked up, your eyes widening in surprise. Jung-Hyun’s eyes were gentle as they held yours, and he tossed away the butt of his cigarette.

“Our breakup was bound to happen eventually,” he continued. “So do not feel sorry about it. Besides, I would have never found out about my Boss’ death had I not returned.”

You opened your mouth to say that you didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing, but you had only just began speaking when Jung-Hyun’s eyes focused on something behind you. It wouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, if it weren’t for the fact that you had never seen Jung-Hyun’s eyes that wide - and never with so much emotion.

In the blink of an eye, Jung-Hyun grabbed hold of your blouse and pushed you aside with enough force to make you lose your breath. You gasped for air, an angry and admittedly terrified retort already rising from your throat, but you lost all ability to speak when you saw an unknown man standing pressed up against Jung-Hyun.

For there was a growing patch of unmistakably red fluid spreading throughout the midsection of Jung-Hyun’s shirt.

#MCAF #Ao3 #Wrienne #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #Jeon Jungkook/Reader #Jeon Jungkook #Reader-Insert #MCAF2 #My Cheating Amnesic Fiancé 2

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strawberry-metal · 2 years

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Yall I’m way too tired to talk so I’m gonna make this short and to the point, and probably leave in typos as I’m doing this via phone and again, I’m super tired lol. I went to California with my boyfriend, his parents, his brother, and his brother’s girlfriend. I got sunburned there and I was also in alot of pain the entire time because of having to lug heavy objects around alot, the house we stayed at was ant infested and also had about ten spiders, the shower was so tiny, my tennis shoes had no soles in them so I was basically walking barefoot for hours two days in a row and uh- yeah. I had fun but it was rough, and I had to get up at like, 7 am each day. @.@

Day 1:

-Plane ride, annoying af passengers behind me

-I nearly pass out from exhaustion on a public bench lmao

-After renting a car, I take a nap for about an hour and we tour a modern art museum together. I wanted to go to an Aquarium after but they all closed by the time we were done. D:

-We went to the beach and it was cold af. We only stayed there for about an hour. Only my boyfriend and I played in the waters. XD

-We get to the house and we all go on an ant stomping rampage

-My boyfriend and I learn how small California showers are.

-I passed out.

Day 2:

-We wake up early and go to Disneyland!

-I never meet Donald because he stayed in the California park and never came to the Disneyland park-

-We separated as a group so we could enjoy everything separately.

-Rides and attractions my boyfriend and I visited: Pinnochio, Mr. Toad, Teacups, Sleeping Beauty tower, Teacups, Alice in Wonderland, It’s a Small World, the train that had the canyon and dinosaurs in it, The Haunted Mansion, Splash Mountain (WE WAITED AN HOUR AND TEN MINUTES), met Eeyore, met Mulan, Star Wars ride inside the ship, Stars Wars spy ride, Buzz Lightyear shooting ride, the parade which I didn’t get to see because I’m 5’2 and everyone who forced in front of me was 5’11 or 6 ft, I did get to see the fireworks though.

Day 3:

-We wake up early and I beg for mercy because Im in so much feckin pain lol

-We go to Universal Studios

-We stay as a group this time.

Rides and attractions: Met Scooby Doo, Harry Potter Escape Hogwarts ride, Harry Potter wand demonstration, A 20 minute performance of famous actor animals from movies that we got to see in rl on stage, met Bart Simpson, minion ride because my bf’s dad likes minions XD, a ride that goes up high and spins in circles, we give up on trying to go on the Jurassic World ride because it was a 2 hr wait, we eat and I almost get heat exhaustion, we get back to the ant infested house and pass out

Day 4:

-We wake up early again and go for a drive through the Hollywood Streets

-We eat at an Italian-French mixed breakfast restaurant

-I finish reading a JoJo volume

-Plane and airport suffering for all of us aaaauuuugh

-I get hone and finish playing SK Deep Crimson

-I pass out

#Mun #Update #iz me #Dio anon #Love anon

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sweatygrealish · 3 years

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just a dream (jack grealish x reader)

word count: 1612

warnings: bit angsty.

sorry for any mistakes, I finished this along with a bottle of wine :)

He was sitting opposite you in the living-room, nervously fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt. It was an absolutely odd thing for him to do, and it worried you.

“I need to tell you something,” he began, not being able to look you in the eye. You needed him to say it, as soon as possible, so the emotion that was nearly choking you to unconsciousness could finally break free from your throat.

“What is it, Jack?” You demanded to know, your voice thick with impatience and fear. It was nearly unbearable.

“I slept with someone else.”

There it was. What had been hovering above your relationship for quite a few weeks now was out. It sat there, comfortably, between you and your long term boyfriend of five years, staring at you with a dead serious, almost threatening stare.

“So you don’t love me anymore.” You stated a fact. It wasn’t a question, nor an assumption, just a simple fucking fact.

Jack’s face lost all its colour. His open mouth closed and opened again, you could see him swallow hardly, his Adams apple bobbing up and down.

“Of course I love you, baby. That hasn’t changed, I-“ he tried to continue but you cut him off.

“No, Jack. You don’t. You don’t do something like this to someone you love.” You rose from your seat, noticing how weird your body felt, how much every fibre of your soul was hurting. Almost, your knees gave in, gave up carrying your body’s weight, the weight of your pain. Jack stood up with you, reaching out for your hands, but you were quick to withdraw them.

You walked a few steps back to the living-room door which led to the hall. With trembling hands you got a hold of the baseball bat which you always kept hidden behind the curtain, in case of a burglary when Jack was away. Jack watched with wide, incredulous eyes when you lunged out, aiming for the way too big and expensive TV he always spent too much time in front of anyway.

Shooting Jack one last glance,

you woke up.

Lying on your back, your pyjama and the bed sheets were clinging to your sweaty skin. You could literally see your heartbeat hammering through your chest so furiously it nearly hurt.

You were hurt. Hurt by the man sleeping soundly next to you with his warm hand resting on your belly. His mouth hung slightly open and his eyelashes fluttered delicately with the subtle movements of his eyes beneath closed lids.

6:32 am.

You gulped painfully. Your mouth was dry.

Carefully not to wake your boyfriend, you sneaked out of bed and grabbed a cardigan from the chair next to your dresser, tiptoeing out of the room. You knew Jack’s alarm clock would go off at eight, that gave you 90 minutes to pull yourself together. Of course you didn’t want to let a stupid dream ruin your day.

Upon going downstairs, you couldn’t ignore the urge to check the living-room in order to see if the TV was okay. It was fine. Everything was fine. You kept repeating the sentence inside your head like a mantra before brewing yourself a cup of tea.

Jack opened his eyes just two minutes before his alarm would wake him up. He grumbled something before discovering your empty, cold half of the bed. He sat up and frowned- you were usually up before him but most of the time, especially on a Saturday, he would wake up to you reading a book or checking your phone.

His gruff morning voice called out your name but no response came. Jack sighed and shuffled into the bathroom to get ready, hoping to find you downstairs when he was finished.

He did. You were in the middle of making breakfast, the heavenly smell of eggs wafted through the hall when he entered the kitchen, smiling.

“G’mornin’ love.”

“Good morning,” you half smiled, letting him pull you into his side.

“You’re up early,” he pointed out as he gratefully accepted a cup of tea from you, adding, “didn’t sleep well?”

He really knew you like the back of his hand. There wasn’t a chance you could hide something from him.

“Just woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.” You couldn’t look at him any more, afraid to give away too many of your thoughts. Worrying him about something like a stupid nightmare wasn’t something you were keen on doing right before an important training session of his.

You noticed he wasn’t satisfied with your answer, so you quickly handed him a plate with eggs on toast before he could ask any further questions.

“Thanks, you’re the best,” he smiled before his soft lips brushed your cheek.

During breakfast you had the strange feeling he was eyeing you very carefully. You hardly looked up from your plate to avoid any awkward moments or questions. For the first time in years, you just wanted him to leave for training so you could manage sorting your thoughts and emotions. You weren’t able to do that when he was staring at you from across the dining table, probably wondering what the fuck was wrong with you.

He knew something was definitely wrong. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe he was lacking intelligence as in cognition and logic, conversely his emotional intelligence was impressively high. So when it was time for him to go, your pulse quickened inevitably once again.

“You sure you’re okay?” Jack searched your face for any kind of hint, a blink of an eye, a frown, a wrinkle. But you kept it under control, nodding and just swallowing everything instead of spitting it out. You were sure it would all go away eventually before he came home in the afternoon.

“Alright. See you later. Miss you already.” He pecked your lips, mouth lingering a little too long for such an innocent kiss, and briefly tapped your nose with his index finger.

“Yeah, enjoy training.” Your reply was half-hearted and both of you were aware. Jack smiled awkwardly and approached the door, unsure weather to assure himself once more that, apparently, nothing was wrong. He decided against it, waving one last time, before shutting the door behind him.

Training was tough. Jack checked the time unusually often along with his phone for a message from you. A life sign, any sign to soothe his nerves. But- nothing. It was just agonizing- being absolutely sure that something wasn’t quite right but being absolutely clueless about what it could be.

He couldn’t run as fast as he wanted, couldn’t kick the ball as hard as he wanted, couldn’t mess around with his team mates.

All he wanted was get home to you, engulf you in his arms for the entire night and stroke your hair.

Finally it was time to go home. Jack was annoyed that he had to run some errands before eventually getting home, time that separated him from you furthermore. Stupid errands like stopping for gas and picking up his suit from the dry cleaners.

His pulse was racing unusually fast at parking the car in the driveway. Because he didn’t know what to expect, a feeling of insecurity was spreading in his chest.

Jack opened the front door and found the house practically silent, and for a split second he wondered if you were even there. After having closed the door he was able to make out a sound from the kitchen that could’ve been music from the distance. In search of the source, he strode through the rooms until he reached the back garden. He spotted you huddled up in a blanket with a glass of wine in hand, staring into the distance.

“Hey.”

Your head turned towards him with a weak smile.

“Hey.”

“Can I join you?”

You simply nodded, making some space for him on the lounger. For a moment, you just sat there in silence.

“I’m sorry,” you suddenly said, nearly whispered.

Jack looked at you, his eyes full of worry.

“I’m sorry for being so distant today. It wasn’t fair on you. I’ve had a nightmare last night. You told me that you’d slept with someone else.”

Your words were lingering in the air like puffed out cigarette smoke. Jack didn’t know what to do, all the things he wanted to say weren’t coming together into a proper sentence. So instead, he wrapped both his arms tightly around you and pulled you into him.

It was the best reaction to your “confession” you could’ve wished for. Sometimes, silence indeed spoke louder than words.

“You know I’d never do that to you. Don’t you?” Jack whispered after a while.

A single tear rolled down your cheek, landing on his hand, “I know.”

You were still looking straight ahead, feeling his burning gaze on your face, not yet able to face him fully.

“Nightmares suck,” Jack muttered against your temple, his thumb stroking circles on the back of your hand, “everything’s alright, love. I’m here for you.”

In that moment, you were so thankful for him, so so thankful. You broke free from his grasp slightly to look into his hopeful eyes. There was a sparkle in them, along with one particular emotion, so visible it was impossible to miss.

Love.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you this morning. I felt stupid.”

Jack’s big, strong hands framed your face as he knocked his forehead against yours.

“It’s fine.” As soon as the words had left his lips, he kissed you tenderly, gently sucking your bottom lip. Without hesitation you kissed him back, sighing deeply in happiness.

You really were so lucky to have him.

#jack grealish #jack grealish x reader #mason mount #jack grealish imagine #england nt

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forsakenoathkeeper · 3 years

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I Am Alive (chapter 30/?)

Chapter 30: Where the Skies End

Deviant!Connor[RK800] x (fem!)Reader Rated M(18+) for canon-typical violence and gore, medical procedures, and graphic sexual content

Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 • 12 • 13 • 14 • 15 • 16 • 17 • 18 • 19 • 20 • 21 • 22 • 23 • 24 • 25 • 26 • 27 • 28 • 29 • 30 • more coming soon

[ You can also read on AO3 ]

Unsurprisingly, and much to your frustration, Connor had finished the move without you. There might not have been much left to move at that point; but, it was your stuff at a house that you rented, and not Connor's responsibility in the slightest.

But, there was no telling the android that, and you knew that he would have been well equipped with plenty of reasons as to why he could handle the rest of the move alone: you needed rest, he didn't require sleep, etc, etc.

When you stepped off the elevator into the android's - and now your - apartment, Connor had a look on his face, as if you had come home for the first time in years. You had only spent a week at Hank's place, and only a day and some odd hours at the hospital prior to that, and Connor had been nearly inseparable from you the entire time; yet, it felt like ages since you had been here.

It was only then that the weight of your near death experience became apparent. Before, your life, or the loss of it, wouldn't have impacted anyone else. It was just you in that little house, trying to make a living, picking up the pieces of a war and watching humanity change astronomically.

Now, there was a life that would be changed if you were gone. You let yourself imagine how Connor would cope, what would become of him, and struggled to keep the sorrow to yourself.

Perhaps, for the first time in your life, you knew what it was like to be needed.

Your wound healed remarkably in the weeks that followed. The scar left behind was star shaped and your skin was darkened around the sunken surface. But, you didn't find yourself hating it as much as you thought you would.

It wasn't something you looked at with pain or regret, but rather something prideful. Maybe there was something masochistic about it, not that you found yourself bothered by that realization.

Your coworkers thought it looked 'pretty cool' and declared that it made you 'quite the badass'. Now, you could wear the badge of 'I've been shot', with a bizarre story to tell. You didn't care if people thought it was strange, letting yourself get shot for an android.

Connor was much more than 'just' an android. He was the man you loved, who carried an astronomical burden you could barely understand. Sure, you could judge the weight, the pressure; but, you, an ordinary human, couldn't possibly understand what he felt as the target of a revolution that would change humanity forever.

The thoughts became clearer as you and Connor stepped into Haven for the last time, and you took in the emptiness, the quiet, and the cold.

"One moment," Connor advised you, stepping away and into the open space in the center of the room.

RK800, like all androids, had no true sense of temperature. Connor couldn't feel cold the way humans did. His artificial skin wasn't going to prickle with goosebumps and his muscles wouldn't shiver from the discomfort.

His HUD could report the weather if he enabled it and he had various feedback modules to inform him of how the temperature would affect a human, with the rightful assumption one would be in his presence.

Yet, despite this very well known limitation of his being, Connor couldn't explain how he managed to feel so cold as he stood there in the very abandoned Haven.

He was aware that warmth could be metaphorical, symbolic of belonging and comfort. His sense of cold was both literal and figurative in this sense. Without any machines running, all the lights turned off, Haven had become very cold. The halls, once busy with androids, were now empty, and the building was silent if not for the creaking walls.

-until someone walked through the distant corridor, their quiet footsteps rattling in Connor's acute hearing module.

There was an apology on the tip of Connor's tongue when he caught the sight of Markus. However, the RK200's stare wasn't cold or untrusting. There was something undeniably regretful on his face, conveying sympathy to the fellow android.

Markus' mismatched eyes caught the sight of you over Connor's shoulder, and spared a sad expression.

The two androids had agreed to meet here, for the last time in circumstances like this, hopefully. Once the final bill was passed, and androids would be proper citizens, there would be no need for this.

However, Connor had yet to obtain a definitive lead on Reaves' accomplices. This, at the very least, could provide some security for the androids that came before him.

"I know you didn't want me to," Markus began. "But, I will tell them it's from you. They should know."

"It's... your choice," Connor replied quietly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone.

The two androids took each other's wrists, pushing the fabric of their jackets out of the way to touch skin to skin. Connor knew that Markus trusted him. He took the file without even bothering to scan it first. Only once it was already saved on his local system did he bother to analyze it.

The detective android had worked on that during your recovery week, while he laid beside you in low power mode. He reviewed the log files on his internal firewall over a thousand times, and crafted additional security protocols, specifically designed around write protection. Factory defaults, if he could help it, would be near impossible.

Markus could share this new code with other androids. If Connor failed to stop it in time, at the very least, their memory modules would be protected from brute force attacks, cyberlife certified or otherwise.

As their hands parted, Connor seemed to understand why he felt so cold. He had grown accustomed to how your skin felt - how human skin felt. Even when you weren't acutely aware of it, you were always warm.

"You're one of us," Markus declared, his hand dropping to his side. "We couldn't have done this without you. Your sacrifices need to be known."

"Sacrifices," Connor parroted quietly, doubtful.

He thought about Reaves' disbelief, at how he prioritized saving your life over securing the future of his kind. He could have killed you, carried on the mission, secured all of the chips and brought the android protestors to absolute surrender.

But, he didn't.

Before you, what had he gambled, if not his own life? A life that, by the very words of his creators, didn't exist, was meaningless, just programs executed in succession. He had questioned the very existence of his own life, but so had every android before him.

Still, the determined look on Markus' face didn't falter.

"Until we meet again," he offered, nodding at his fellow android. His eyes landed on yours before he turned away, and you offered him a sad, small wave.

As Connor passed, he took his hand in yours and guided you out of the building with careful steps. It was unnecessary to bring you here, but he understood the importance of goodbyes, and didn't want you to believe your efforts here had been in vain.

You expected to be driven home after that; however, as you climbed into the car, Connor asked, "would it be alright if we went to the park for some fresh air?"

"-'course," you replied softly, shifting your gaze from the android's face to look out the window.

Connor was uncharacteristically quiet during the drive, his hands gripping the steering wheel in a death lock. You didn't pay much mind to it, figuring he was stressed after everything that had happened. You had been the one on death's door; yet, Connor was the one seemingly always on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

It was worrying; but, you knew he needed to work through it in his own way.

At the park, Connor had hoped you would head straight for the bridge, to a place you had cherished so much. If his research was accurate, this needed to be done at a special place. As he followed you slowly up the curve, feet tapping against the boards, a wave of doubt washed over him.

You looked stunning, standing upright for the first time in weeks, with pep in your step, the sun soaking up your hair. Could he really have this? Could he even think himself allowed for such a thing? Could an android truly understand the needs of a human?

"You alright?" you called out to him, pausing before you reached the apex of the bridge.

It snapped him out of his stupor, and Connor replied softly, "I'm fine."

You continued and he followed, counting the steps despite how unnecessary it was. The android knew he had never been this scared in his life. This type of sensation was really, really unpleasant. His processors were giving him ridiculous warnings that didn't pertain at all to the situation.

He shut off the alerts and met you at the top of the bridge. His hand slid over the railing, analyzed the material as a strong timber, coated with a lacquer color called 'cedar brown', manufactured by-

Connor quickly closed the analyzed results, realizing how pointless that was. He was distracting himself, busying his processor with his manufactured purpose to avoid something he was definitely not made for.

At the top of the bridge, you turned to the man standing beside you, just in time to see him deactivate his human skin. His gaze met yours, and you smiled at the sight of RK800, as he was made, without the imitation of human-likeness.

For a moment, he stood there and let the heat of the sunlight catch on his sensor processors. The human tone of his factory issued skin flickered back on briefly before shutting back off, as Connor mentally questioned if he should do it like this.

The sudden nervous expression on his face, and his flickering pallet, had you concerned. In the sunlight, you could catch the subtle flaws in the design of his optics: the faint glimmer of a camera lens hidden beneath the almost perfect human appearance.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, suddenly reaching for him. Your hand fell into the curve of his elbow.

"There's-" Connor began, stopping himself when a jogger passed the bridge. He was silent until they were gone.

"There's something important I need to ask you," Connor explained, his voice quiet and hoarse. "I'm sorry for not being more forthcoming. I was afraid."

Despite the obvious implications of what that question was, your head swarmed with the worst possibilities. The detective android, who had stormed a building of armed men to rescue you, who never hesitated to take a bullet for anyone, was afraid of something?

"Connor," you murmured, his name falling from your lips without purpose. The concern, however, was heavy in your tone.

"Before I ask, you need to know that you can refuse. There is no obligation, despite what we have been through. I won't hold any negative feelings towards you. From my research, this is premature, and I apologize for that," Connor babbled.

"What?" you blurted. "Connor, what are you - what's wrong?" you insisted, pitch rising as you started to panic.

"Nothing is wrong," he replied sharply.

He stepped back, just enough to create a few inches between you. You watched him reach into his coat pocket and pull out a small box. Mind hazy with the aftermath of Reaves' attack, you feared Connor was going to present you with evidence, that the case had taken a dangerous turn, or even inform you with the worst possible news.

But, then, Connor, cupping the small box in his palm, knelt down onto one knee. He looked up at you, brown eyes bright in the sunlight, android skin white as freshly fallen slow, failing to conceal the crease in his brow as worry sank in. The box opened, but you were too focused on his face to bother looking inside.

"Will you marry me?"

You could have laughed, at yourself, really, for thinking he was going to talk to you about Reaves, about factory-resetting computer chips, and the potential downfall of androids.

Instead, you let out a choked gasp. It was pathetically wet and embarrassingly loud. It all came pouring out before you could even think to stop it. Connor's nervous expression melted into panic when you started crying hysterically.

He was shifting to stand up, an apology hot on his tongue. He could feel his processors heating up, threatening to lock up at the sight of your tear-soaked face. It had his internal processes soaring, questioning if he had misinterpreted your relationship, your feelings for him.

You flung yourself into him before he could stand up, knocking the jewelry box right out of his hand. It clattered noisily on the bridge. If Connor was human, he would have followed; but, he was sturdy and, even unprepared, managed to stay upright as you crashed into him. His knees hit the bridge and his hands cautiously cupped your back.

"Yes!" you cried out, pressing your cheek into his coat, some odd centimeters from his thirium pump.

Your arms squeezed at his back, hands clawing into the thick fabric of his coat. Connor was unmoving, stiff where you clung to him. The artificial movements he made to appear more human had ceased, and you briefly feared he had powered down.

"Yes," you declared again, softer this time, squeezing him even tighter.

Finally, his systems relented and he properly relayed to his processor what you had just said. His arms wound around your back and, for the first time in weeks, Connor hugged you tightly, as if he wasn't afraid that he might hurt you. You could feel the tightening of his fingers tugging at your blouse, the thirium pump in perfect beats inside his chassis.

"Yes," you said again.

His cheek fell against your hairline and he closed his eyes. He wanted to dig his fingers past the fabric of your clothes, to feel your skin in a hopeless attempt to interface. Even if he could only reach your body, even if your mind was out of reach, that was good enough.

"Yes," again.

For now, the ring laid forgotten in its case, the jewelry box sitting some odd feet away, flipped on its side.

#rk800 x reader #connor x reader #deviant connor x reader

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wonpilsonefeel · 3 years

Text

Here’s a prompt list for request.

Ask for a minimum of one number (can be more) and pairing. Also add if you want it to be angst, smut or fluff.

ALSO MY ANON PART AINT WORKING BUT I WILL KEEP YALL ANON.

I didn’t come up with these prompts.

1. "How long have you been staring at that screen?"

2. "Do you really want to test me?"

3. "How did I end up watching this?"

4. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just worried someone is going to take you away from me.”

5. “I just want to hug you and never let go.”

6. “You’re an adult! Act like it!”

7. “Did you seriously patch up a stab wound with scotch tape?”

9. “Are you stuck?”

10. “Man, you sure got knocked around a lot today.”

11. “Just the idea of anything happening to you makes me feel physically sick.”

12. A miscommunication leads to everyone being told Person A is dead, and Person B does not handle it well. When Person A shows up completely fine, Person B is overjoyed.

13. “It shouldn’t be physically possible for me to love you this much.”

14. “What would you do if I died?” “Can we not talk about this?”

15. “They’re too good for you.”

16. “You look so cute in pajamas

17. “You’re my favorite person ever.”

18. “I love you so much I don’t know what to do.”

19. “You need to be more careful!”

20. “Why are we on the roof?”

21. “I know it’s wrong, but I love you.”

22. Why are you like this?”

23. I can handle myself. You don’t need to protect me.”

24. I miss you.”

25. You are not fine, you’re bleeding!”

26. Look, I really screwed up and I need advice.”

27. I hope you’re here to apologize.” “Is there something you want to tell me?”

28. You are sick, therefore I am going to take care of you. End of discussion.

29. I’m fine. It was just a nightmare. You don’t need to worry.”

30. I just want to cuddle.”

31. Every day I get to spend with you is the best day.”

32. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

33. “You have the most amazing smile.”

34. “You’re just not intimidating. Sorry.”

35. “Stop whacking me with that stupid rubber chicken!”

36. “Stop kicking me under the table!”

37. “What are you, five?”

38. “I heard a loud sound. Are you okay?”

39. “Why are you wearing my shirt?”

40. “How on Earth did you get so muddy?”

41. “Close your eyes. Don’t peek.”

42. “You know, it’s hard to stay upset when I’m holding you this close.”

43. Person A spends the entire day throwing things at Person B, just for fun.

44. Person A keeps stealing Person B’s snacks.

45. You should really get some sleep.”

46. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

47. I hate children. They’re the worst.”

48. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

49. I wish you’d stop saying that.”

50. Person A tries (and fails) to convince everyone they aren’t in love with person B.

51. I’m having a long day, okay?”

52. Stop treating me like a child!”

53. I hate it when you rhyme my name with things.”

54.

55. Small kisses littered across the other’s face.

56. A small, fleeting kiss - which is immediately followed by a passionate, hungry kiss.

57. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

58. An accidental brush of lips followed by a pause and going back for another, on purpose.

59. Throwing their arms around the other person’s neck, hugging them close before kissing them passionately on the lips.

60. Wild, breathless kisses brought on by a heartfelt gift.

61. French kisses where they trace every tooth with their tongues as though trying to memorize them.

62. Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.

63. A kiss that lasts so long, they are sharing each other’s breaths.

64. A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it.

65. Morning kisses that are exchanged before either person opens their eyes, kissing blindly until their lips meet in a blissful encounter.

66. Sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss.

67. Butterfly kisses against the other’s cheeks.

68. A kiss so desperate that the two wind around each other, refusing to let go until they are finished.

69. A fierce kiss that ends with a bite on the lip, soothing it with a lick.

70. One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

71. Tucking their hands beneath the other person’s shirt, just to watch them break the kiss and gasp in surprise at the sensation of cold/warm hands on their skin.

72. Teasing kisses where one person blows air into the other’s mouth and runs away.

73. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

74. Kissing in a stairwell, giving them an artificial height difference.

75. A chaste kiss given to each other because they are in mixed company.

76. A kiss that is leading to more, but is interrupted by a third party.

77. A kiss that tastes of the food/dessert they are eating.

78. Deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer.

79. Wet kisses after finding refuge from the rain.

80. Brushing a kiss along the shell of the other person’s ear.

81. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

82. One person tracing the other’s lips with a fingertip until they can’t resist any longer, tilting their chin towards them for a kiss.

83. Staring at each other’s lips for a moment before moving closer, as if drawn together by some unseen force.

84. Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

85. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

86. A kiss so passionate, so perfect - that after they part, neither person can open their eyes for a few moments afterwards.

87. An unexpected kiss that shocks the one receiving it.

88. Kisses that start on their fingers and run up their arm, eventually ending on their lips.

89. An awkward kiss given after a first date.

90. Starting with bunny kisses before moving on to soft kisses.

91. Cleaning the other person’s lips with a lick and a kiss.

92. Whispering “I love you” before a chaste, delicate kiss.

93. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

94. A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

95. Kisses shared under an umbrella.

96. Distracting kisses from someone that are meant to stop the other person from finishing their work, and give them kisses instead.

97. A kiss pressed to the top of the head.

98. Tentative kisses given in the dark.

99. Kisses exchanged as they move around, hitting the edges of tables or nearly tripping over things on the floor before making it to the sofa, or bed.

100. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart.

101. A kiss paired with a tight hug, knocking the breath out of the person being hugged.

102. One person has to bend down in order to kiss their partner, who is standing on their tip-toes to reach their partner’s.

103. Short and sweet kiss after meeting up for a date.

104. A kiss, followed by more that trail down the jaw and neck.

105.

106. Little one jumping in puddles wearing rain boots.

107. Shopping for nursery furniture for little one.

108. Holding the little one for the first time.

109. Being immensely proud when little one takes their first steps alone.

110. Little one’s first reaction to seeing/feeling snow.

111. Singing nursery rhymes to get little one to sleep.

112. Finger painting with little one.

113. Little one getting food all over their face.

114. Going on a walk together with little one.

115. Little one coming to sleep with you after having a bad dream.

116. Picking out little one’s first Halloween costume.

117. Little one’s first birthday.

118. Keeping little one from trying to eat crayons.

119. Little one’s first trip to the zoo or aquarium.

120. Showing little one a lightning bug for the first time.

121. Little one sticking their toes in their mouth.

122. Little one pulling on your hair with surprising strength.

123. Helping little one go down a slide at the park.

124. Little one needing an emergency bath.

125. Tickling little one’s chubby thighs until they laugh.

126. Singing songs and rocking little one to sleep.

127. Reading a book with little one on your lap.

128. Having to show little one that the food tastes good by having some too.

129. Playing airplane/train to get little one to open their mouth and take a bite of food.

130. Little one chasing after bubbles to pop them.

131. Playing peek-a-boo with little one.

132. Little one snuggling with a stuffed animal.

133. Playing “This Little Piggy” on little one’s toes.

134. Having little one help mix cookie dough.

135. Little one eating a slice of fruit and getting juice all down their chin.

136. Kissing little one where they got hurt to make the pain go away.

137. Little one stripping their clothes and running around in their diaper.

138. Waking up to little one crying out in their sleep.

139. Little one biting everything they can stick in their mouth as they teethe.

140. Little one sticking pretzel sticks up their nose.

141. Little one leaving sticky fingerprints on everything they touch.

142. Having little one help flip pancakes.

143. Giving little one a raspberry on their tummy after changing their diaper.

144. Watching little one go in and out of the kiddie pool.

145. Little one pointing out colors and shapes that they recognize.

146. Having little one wear their first formal wear.

147. Little one drifting off to sleep with a smile on their face.

148. Little one settling down after you finally figure out what they need.

149. Choosing little one’s name together.

150. Watching little one attempt to blow the seeds off a dandelion.

151. Little one getting in a laughing kick where everything is funny.

152. The first time little one picks their own outfit.

153. Little one chasing down the pet to rest their head on them and hold them tight.

154. Being unable to stay mad at little one when they give you puppy dog eyes.

155. Little one playing dress up with a grown-up set of shoes.

156.

157. Holding their hands when they are shaking.

158. Tucking the sheets around them when they stir during the night.

159. Traveling long distances just to see them.

160. Making their favorite meal when they are having a hard day.

161. Giving them a kiss before going to work and they are still in bed.

162. Tucking your head into their neck during a hug.

163. Lightly kissing on top of a freshly formed bruise.

164. Buying them something unrequested because it made you think of them.

165. Participating in their hobby even if it doesn’t personally interest you.

166. Sitting in comfortable silence while eating a meal.

167. Telling them a dumb joke just to see their smile.

168. Following their family traditions that they enjoy.

169. Playing your fingers through their hair while sitting next to them on the couch.

170. Singing and dancing to their favorite song.

171. Calming them down when they have a bad dream.

172. Having a tickle fight until you’re breathless.

173. Folding their clean laundry and putting it away.

174. Sharing a soft smile across a crowded room.

175. Bringing them a plate of their favorite sliced fruit.

176. Washing their back/hair in the shower.

177. Sharing your umbrella with them in the rain.

178. Listening to them while they vent.

179. Taking a picture together to print and hang later.

180. Tracing your names together in the sand.

181. Wearing clothes in their favorite color.

182. Doing a chore for them that you know they aren’t fond of.

183. Leaving a plate of food in the microwave for when they have a late shift.

184. Sharing a drink with them from the same straw.

185. Tucking their hair behind their ear to help them get it out of their face.

186. Helping scratch that itch on their back they can’t reach.

187. Pulling a chair out for them to sit down at the table.

188. Wrapping a blanket around them when they are sitting on the couch and watching a show.

189. Throwing away their piles of tissues when they have a cold.

190. Mending an item of their clothing that was ripped.

191. Running out in the middle of the night to get a food item they’re craving.

192. Helping brush their hair after a shower.

193. Making sure to be quiet while they’re taking a nap.

194. Letting them warm their cold hands under your shirt.

195. Giving them your dessert when you eat out because it’s their favorite.

196. Making a goofy face until they notice and laugh.

197. Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

198. Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

199. Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

200. Standing between them and a busy road.

201. Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

202. Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

203. Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

204. Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

205. Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

206. Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

#day6 drabble #nct drabble #exo fluff #seventeen #monsta x #taeyong drabble #wonpil drabble #suho smut #vernon imagine #kpop scenarios #bts imagines #stray kids #got7 #ateez fanfic

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hlizr50 · 3 years

Text

Update: The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 6

A little pain relief for everything I've put you through

Read on AO3

When Azriel landed in the training ring he shook his head, exasperated with himself. Now that he was here, what exactly did he plan to do? He couldn’t very well find Gwyn’s room, shake her awake, and beg her to forgive him.

He took a moment to survey the ring, racks of wooden weapons, steel, shields. The Valkyries had grown from desperation to get Nesta on the right track to three females surviving the Blood Rite to a small legion of Illyrians, priestesses, and other fae. They would be outgrowing the space soon, and he pondered that as the stone glowed blue in the moonlight.

Gwyn had never spoken much about the Blood Rite, not that he could blame her. The Illyrian tradition was barbaric under normal circumstances, and much more so with Briallyn’s meddling – with the intention of killing all three of the females. Azriel couldn’t help but grin to himself.

How spectacularly had her plan backfired.

He had not admitted that Cassian was not the only one sleepless and mortified that week, but where the general was a barely-contained force of will and expression Azriel was schooled in hiding his emotion. He’d had to stay stoic – to find Briallyn and Koschei, to support his brother while his mate fought for her life. But his relationship with Gwyn had begun to develop by then, as well. Slowly. It was all he could do some days not to fly in and destroy them all. She had already suffered unspeakable horrors, and the possibility that she had been at the mercy of Illyrian males – bred with a thirst for blood and flesh – had been nearly unbearable.

When that general is finished hurting her she has to feel the soul-crushing terror of watching the next soldier take his place because you don’t come to save her.

He ran a hand through his onyx hair, remembering Nesta’s words. His shadows seemed to wither around him, drooping over his shoulders and wings. How had it come to this?

The shadowsinger sat himself down on the ground, knees drawn up. He rested his forearms on them and gazed at the ink-dark sky painted with stars. Much like his High Lord, seeing the stars had always been a comfort to Azriel – a reminder that he was free from the prison of his upbringing, that he had escaped and had replaced his father and brothers with a family that cared for him and showed him what love and brotherhood really meant.

His found family had grown so much in such a short time. He was grateful for that, for so many reasons. Rhys had emerged from Under the Mountain a broken male and Feyre had helped piece him back together. She had quickly become a glue for all of them, holding them tight and treating them with such love that Azriel was often awed by it. It wasn’t hard defending her, being dedicated to her safety as High Lady. She was far more than a monarch to him.

Then came Nesta and Elain, and what a storm that had been. Cassian and Nesta were meant to be since the beginning, but that path had been long and painful, and not just for his ears and the new… sanitation concerns for public living spaces in the house. Sometimes he was surprised that he counted Nesta as his friend. She had been intentionally hurtful so many times. How often had he seen the pain in his brother’s countenance because of something she had said or done? And yet now he understood her, maybe more than he cared to admit. She had been hurting and afraid and overflowing with self-loathing.

He had hurt Gwyn for those very reasons.

Gwyn.

He felt his shoulders and wings sag with the weight of Nesta’s questions tonight. Accusations thinly veiled as questions, and each one like a carefully crafted throwing knife plunged into his gut. He’d made her cry for at least the third time in as many weeks. Training and working to exhaustion, and not being able to sleep because of the worsening nightmares – nightmares that had cruelly transformed to remind her that he had abandoned her.

Even his shadows felt heavy.

The spymaster hung his head, shame like a blanket smothering him in summer heat. How could he ever forgive himself for causing that pain? It was a fate he had personally prevented, and now she was forced to experience it in her dreams. Because of him. Because he was a coward.

Azriel let his eyes drift closed and focused on his breathing. Sleep would not be an option tonight, and he could only pray that the priestess was sound asleep in the house, getting the rest she so desperately needed. Training didn’t seem to be in the cards either, as he sifted through the torrent of thoughts and emotions. He just needed to sit and think. And in the morning, he would speak with Gwyn as soon as he could. He would fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to.

“Azriel?”

The inky tendrils flitted to life around him at the sound of that voice. Cauldron damn him, of course she would find him now. But part of him was relieved to be able to talk to her so soon – that she was even here.

“Azriel, are you alright?” His heart squeezed at the softness of Gwyn’s voice, music to his ears – a sweet melody with harmonies of concern and kindness. How could she still be so kind to him?

“I don’t deserve to be asked that. Especially not by you,” he murmured, staring down at the stone between his feet.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Azriel.” Her soft footsteps seemed to echo in his head, a ringing alarm that she was coming closer. He didn’t want to run from her, but his heart was still racing. How could he face her inevitable rejection? He noticed her shadow fall over the space between his legs and when he looked up she was crouching in front of him, eyes shining with sincerity. “You deserve for people to care about you. And I do. I won’t just leave you out here alone when anyone could see the weight of the world pressing down on you.”

Gods, but wasn’t that exactly what he had done to her?

The shadowsinger had no air in his chest as he studied her. The expression on her face was difficult to describe – caring and teasing and scolding all rolled into glittering ocean eyes and the slightest quirk of her full lips. She rose and his gaze followed as she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to stand with her. It took more courage than he cared to admit to place his violence-scarred hands in hers, but their warmth spread through him like sunshine warming his bones as she helped him to his feet.

She didn’t let go, and that gave him the strength he needed.

“Nesta found me at the river house tonight. She had… a lot to say,” Azriel began as he saw color bloom on Gwyn’s cheeks. She looked down to their hands.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for her to –“ He squeezed her hands and she snapped her head back up to meet his gaze.

“I deserved every single bit of venom she threw at me, Gwyn. Do not apologize.” The shadowsinger looked down, then, unsure how to move forward or which of his many transgressions he should address first. So he asked, “Is it true? About the nightmares? That… that I don’t come for you?” He could feel the emotion catching in his throat, cracking his voice. His eyes burned as he looked back to the priestess. Her lips were pressed together as she tried to keep the silver lining her eyes from spilling down over her cheeks.

“Yes,” she whispered, lashes lowering as the silent tears fell. Each droplet was a nick in his heart, the guilt and pain salting those wounds. How could she be so strong, to endure this agony and yet hold the hands that caused it? He released one of the hands and lifted it to her face, hesitating with his fingers a breath away from her cheek. Azriel had his mouth open to ask if he could touch her when she leaned her face into his palm. He brushed at her tears with his thumb before bringing up his other hand, cupping her jaw.

“Gwyn,” he breathed, pleading silently for her to look at him. The shining pools that opened to him were so enthralling, depths shimmering with trepidation. Gods, what he would do to bring back the joy in those eyes. “I will always come for you. No matter what. And I will never be able to forgive myself that there might be any part of your mind or your heart or your soul that could believe otherwise.” He watched as she took a shuddering breath, but her eyes held his and he was emboldened.

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn. For all of this. I was a fool and a coward and I let my guilt and my fear own me. And it only hurt you.”

Gwyn’s hands covered the scars on his own as she pulled them away from her face, returning them to their place entwined between them. Azriel stayed silent and her head tilted as she studied him.

“What could you possibly be afraid of?” she released a hoarse, hiccupped laugh. The shadowsinger could only gulp down a breath and look toward the stars.

“I… I was afraid of the feelings I was developing for you. And of the pain I would feel when you would see all the things I have done and the monster that I am and run away from me. Or that you would be hurt because of this darkness inside of me.” His eyes had returned to hers and, while he saw understanding swimming there, her expression was uncompromising.

“Have I not been hurt already?” Her bluntness shocked him, and he felt the slightest twinge of panic that told him to run. Her fingers tightened like a vice around his hands and he saw her eyes darken, as if she knew what he was thinking. “Don’t you dare even think about running away, Azriel. Not now. I deserve better from you.” Even his shadows seemed focused on where their hands touched, intent on keeping them tied together.

She did. She deserved so much better. Better than what he’d done. Shame washed over him that he could have thought to flee from her. Again. He had already wronged her… too many times. But he had come here determined to right those wrongs. Azriel wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give her what she deserved, if he would ever be good enough for her. But he sure as fuck was going to try.

“You’re right,” he conceded, that panic replaced by resolution and a faint, foolish glimmer of hope. “I’m not going anywhere.” She grinned softly and he thought his chest would burst from relief. They were still here, together, talking. They were going to figure this out.

“Why did you run, Azriel? If you care for me, like you say,” she demanded, that sea-deep stare piercing straight into his soul. “Why? Why are you afraid of me seeing who you are?”

He should have known that she would demand an explanation. Gwyn was strong and confident. She knew her worth and what she deserved, and him sharing the story behind all of his idiotic decisions was the very least of that. But he was not prepared, and he didn’t want to. He never wanted to darken others’ lives with his history.

“That’s… a long story, Gwyn,” he huffed, hoping that might be the end of it. But he saw her eyes, determination and challenge and fire blazing blue in the moonlight.

“We have all night.” She released his hands and gestured to the darkness around them. She would not be deterred, would not back down until she accomplished her goal. It was one of the many things he admired so much about her. “Should we sit?”

Azriel found himself smiling as he nodded, sitting cross-legged on the stone. Even though the impending admissions rang as a death knell in his mind, it warmed his heart to know that she cared so deeply – that she wanted to know the worst of him.

He had put her through enough, and he could relive his pain and push out his fear for this night, if only for her.

“I don’t know where to start.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick he was usually good at hiding. But then Gwyn – that sweet, incredible, special female – gathered his other hand with those long, pale, graceful fingers and he felt the tension ease. He looked at her, taking in the beauty and serenity of her features. Freckles were scattered over cheeks stained pink, an encouraging smile crinkling the corners of her eyes.

“The beginning seems like a good place, don’t you think?”

So that’s where he began.

~~~

Azriel was not proud that he could not find the strength to look at Gwyn as he walked her through his story, but he could still hear and feel her reactions. And he dared a glance at her from time to time, trying to read everything her eyes were saying. He told her about the cell he was kept in as a child, how little touch or affection or love he had experienced, and how the shadows around him seemed to move and react and speak. She clutched his hand tighter when he told her about what had happened to them, that his brothers had set fire to them to see how he would heal. She hadn’t said a word, but he smelled the salt from tears and felt impossibly soft strokes of her thumbs over those scars.

He explained his time in Illyria and the fearsome reputation he and Cassian had to maintain, simply to make up for the circumstances of their birth. And while Cassian had been brute force and power, Azriel was deadly calm, precision, intellect, terror. He admitted to her how he had hoped to find validation in his role as spymaster under Rhysand’s father, and that he could truly revel in his duties under the right circumstances.

“Those soldiers I killed in Sangravah,” he told her. “I would have enjoyed dragging out their deaths as long as possible for what they did to you.”

Gwyn’s hands were so gentle around his as he told her how much the death and darkness grated against his soul, and how he’d had nothing to tether him to the light. He talked to her about Mor, a waste of literal centuries. And then, somehow, he told her about Elain. Not that he’d loved her, because he never had. But that he’d felt entitled to her, like he deserved what his brothers had found with the other two sisters. That he was the third brother and she was the third sister and that was all that mattered. His entitlement, his lust and desire for the bond - as opposed to love for the person - just another ugly facet of his true self.

“So I suppose that brings me to you, to these past few weeks.” Azriel made sure to meet her gaze for this. “I panicked after the necklace, because I wasn’t prepared for what it would do to me to see that hurt in your eyes. And when I told you things would go back to normal I still didn’t know what to do. I thought distance would be best between us, because I knew you would be able to draw me out of myself. And that was dangerous.”

The shadowsinger’s throat burned with emotion when Gwyn smiled softly. He could see so much roaring in her gaze, but there was no sign of pity or disgust or fear. Azriel ran his free hand through his hair before resting it atop their other clasped hands. Wetness burned his eyes, but he didn’t care.

“When I found you in the rain that night, I could smell your tears and I saw your hands – split knuckles and bruised, swollen fingers. And,” he choked down his feelings even as the tears began their descent, “and I was torn apart with the guilt. It was my fault that you were doing that to yourself. I might has well have put those marks on you with my own two vile hands.” Azriel closed his eyes and let the tears fall – not many, but enough. The silence rang through his ears, his history hanging between them. He waited for the fear, the rejection, especially when she drew her hands away from his. But his eyes snapped open when delicate calloused fingers stroked his cheeks. Gwyn had risen to her knees to dry the wetness on them, her stare a storm of trust and understanding... and compassion.

“Thank you for telling me your story, Azriel,” she whispered. “I see you. You have nothing to fear. I’m still right here.” Then she smiled brightly, and he unraveled.

“Gwyn, I don’t know if you can ever forgive me – I wouldn’t blame you if you couldn’t. But I care for you as more than a teacher, more than a friend. You are a light in my dark life and these past few weeks have been miserable without you in them.” Her smile widened slightly and he reached out a thumb to catch a stray tear that had fallen from those precious, beautiful eyes. He felt his own grin pushing his cheeks against her warm hands.

“I care for you, too, Azriel. As more than a friend.”

He held that watery stare until she released his face. She stood up, brushing off her knees before reaching her hands to him again to help him to his feet. He tilted his head curiously at the determination flashing in her eyes.

“Here is what’s going to happen,” she began, looking down at her hands in his. “Before we pursue anything… romantically, I need to be sure that this isn’t something that will happen again.”

He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed her fingers against his lips. “We both have darkness and fear and I understand that. But if you feel it taking over, I need you to come to me, to talk to me. Because if I open my heart to you and this happens again – if you insist on shutting yourself off from me or deciding for me what I deserve or want – I will be heartbroken.” The confession left Azriel raw.

“What can I do, Gwyn? How can I reassure you?” He could hear the desperation in his own voice, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“We are going to go back to how things were before this mess.” She had returned her hand to his and gave both a squeeze. A shadow darted down around them, as if to approve of the contact. “The way it was that led us to realize that we feel the way we do. And you are going to prove to me that we can have what we had before I found out about that stupid, lovely necklace. Do you think you can do that?” He could have fallen to his knees seeing the hope in those ocean eyes, mirroring the spark of hope inside of him. It was something he hadn’t dared to let himself fully feel with her.

“I will.” Azriel’s voice was low and rough. “I swear it.”

“And then we can decide what comes next. And I can prove to you that your hands and your darkness are just as important to me as the rest of you.”

He was grinning like a fool, he knew. He still had a chance, because Gwyneth Berdara was the definition of grace and love. And by the Mother he would not screw this up.

He felt more than saw her wrap her arms around his back, pulling herself into him. For a moment he was frozen by the intimacy of it – shocked by her initiation of it – but he quickly let his arms settle around her waist. He breathed in, pulling her tighter, and leaned his cheek on the crown of her head.

“Don’t let me down, Shadowsinger,” she muttered into his chest. He chuckled and dared to move one hand to comb through her hair. “I want to see… what comes next.” He wanted to see, too. He wanted to know what it was like to look to the future and see more than dread and loneliness and exhaustion. He could see it with her.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Berdara.”

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#gwynriel fanfiction #gwynriel fic #gwynriel #gwynriel supremacy #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #gwyn x azriel #azwyn #azriel x gwyn #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction

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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years

Text

While You Sleep

Chapter 6

Relationship: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: mainly fluffy, brief mentions of violence Summary: Soulmate!AU - Throughout life, you’re given glimpses of your soulmate through dreams. As you sleep, memories flash in your mind showing you the life your soulmate has lived. Everyone around you raves about how their soulmate reads great books or volunteers in their spare time. But you can’t relate as your dreams end up being more like nightmares. Through initial images of death and violence, you come to learn your soulmate is the Winter Soldier.

(a/n: this was probably the most fun chapter for me to write so far it just came out so cute and sweet i think!! also super sorry all my energy has been focused on this fic i haven’t written many other one shots or anything i just really am getting into this story!)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you woke up the next day, something new was in the air. Everything felt lighter, a bit more relaxed. You actually felt refreshed for what seemed like the first time in your life. As dramatic as it sounds, it was unreal.

You sat up in bed, taking in the morning without the dread. Sure, prior to your dream last night there were bits of chaos still lurking. You couldn’t ignore it and it certainly was not going to go away overnight but everything had shifted, and you could at least appreciate what lulled you to sleep.

You sighed, almost looking off into a daydream like a lovestruck school girl. You had seen Bucky in such a normal fashion just sitting in his bed reading. You didn’t know when exactly the memory had been from but that didn’t matter. It was something without violence, it was a real look at him. He was so content as he focused on the book...

But you didn’t have the time to sit around pondering about your soulmate’s hobbies forever. You still had a life to get on with.

Despite your body’s reluctance, you lugged yourself out of bed and started getting your work uniform together. There was a bit of pep in your step, a complete contrast to just a few weeks ago when you were pulling yourself around holding on to the last bit of will you had. It was insane what one meeting with a soulmate could do. Maybe you now understood everyone’s fuss over it.

You redid your hair and touched up your makeup before packing your bag for the day. Once your sneakers were on and you felt actually good (the most glorious feeling, you thought), you headed out your apartment door.

As you were making your way down the stairs, you noticed someone was waiting by the building’s entrance. You rarely ever saw people around the space so the figure stunned you a bit. As you walked closer, though, you recognized that shoulder-length brown hair.

“Bucky?” You said, surprised, as you opened the lobby door. He turned around, greeting you with a warm smile.

“Good morning.” He spoke so casually as if he always stood outside your apartment waiting for you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, suddenly worried his presence here wasn’t as cheery as he was leading on.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, I just came to walk you to work if that’s okay.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “Walk me to work? W-Why?”

Bucky shifted his stance slightly as if suddenly embarrassed. “Because I think that’s something that, uh… that…”

“Soulmates,” you said, finishing his sentence. Bucky looked relieved at that. “That’s something soulmates do?”

He chuckled at the little smirk you were giving him. Your heart felt so full at the thought of Bucky wanting to walk you to work, make sure you got there safe and everything. Maybe even check out the area where you spent most of your days.

“You can say no, of course.”

You shook your head. “I’m flattered you want to walk me.”

At your acceptance, Bucky extended his elbow for you to take. You giggled as your hand wrapped around his arm and you two began on the route. You were too giddy to look back up at Bucky, even though you could feel him sneaking glances at you, so you turned your attention to his arm. Surprisingly, it was the metal one he had offered to you. While most of it was covered by the sweater he wore, his hand was still peaking out of the sleeve. You stared down at it, curiously, watching the light bounce off the material and listening to the little groans it made as his fingers moved every now and then.

“It’s not going to hurt you,” Bucky said suddenly, making you jump. You quickly pulled your gaze away, opting instead to look up at him. Your heart sank at the tinge of worry behind his eyes.

You shook your head as your cheeks warmed in embarrassment. “I didn’t think it would,” you confessed, honestly. “I just think it’s interesting.”

He hummed, unsure. “Interesting?”

A sudden uneasiness fell over you as you found yourself maybe crossing lines now. Sure, you had seen here and there in the nightmares what the arm had done, but you also could see that wasn’t what it was doing right now. Right now it wasn’t a weapon, a danger. It was a guide for you, physically bringing you a tad bit closer to your soulmate.

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged. You had to choose your words carefully, you thought. “I don’t have to tell you this but it’s unlike anything else out there. It’s powerful. Seems very strong, as well. Probably… Probably has seen a lot but you extended it towards me showing you’re at least a little comfortable with it,” A pause. “I-I don’t think it defines you if that’s what you’re worried about, despite how it’s -- how you -- have been weaponized.”

Bucky didn’t respond at first, making your heart plummet. Had you actually burnt this entire thing down in less than twenty-four hours? You two fell into silent steps as you continued your path to work.

As you rounded a corner, just when you were about to spontaneously tell him it was okay if he never wanted to see you again, Bucky finally spoke up.

“Have you seen the things I’ve done?”

“I’ve read some articles-,”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You brought yourself to a stop on the sidewalk. Bucky halted beside you and shook off your grip. You frowned at the action but didn’t acknowledge it any further.

“I don’t think it matters what I’ve seen,” you said, a bit of confidence finally mustered up in your tone. It was true, too. Over the past few hours, you hadn’t seen anything from the nightmares that aligned with the actual Bucky in front of you. “We can discuss this another time but I promise you, Bucky, I’m only focusing on what I see right now. Right now I see a man who voluntarily woke up at a ridiculous hour just so he could surprise me and walk me to work. It’s incredible.”

Bucky’s eyes were faintly glossing over, threatening to cry. You didn’t know what to do other than take his hand, intertwining your touch with his metal one. He accepted it, wordlessly. With a nod, you got back on your walking route to the shop.

“Thank you, doll,” Bucky said just above a whisper. You nearly missed it. Your heart did somersaults as you registered the words.

You two fell into more silence until you decided you needed to lighten the mood. You weren’t letting him drop you off at work like this.

“Now,” you said, clearing your throat as your own tears had just about formed, “how did you spend the rest of your night?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing crazy,” he sighed. “I did some reading before bed.”

“Hmm.” Your interest had been peaked. You thought back to the little dream you had last night, portraying a very studious Bucky. You figured that while it was recent, it wasn’t from last night (dreams rarely ever came through that quick), making you now curious of his reading choices. “Interesting. Wouldn’t have taken you for a reader. What’s the book about?”

He let out a breathy chuckle. “Some new science fiction series Steve picked up for me,” Bucky explained. “I’m not too far into it but I think it has something to do with time traveling.”

You nearly laughed. You thought back to how the nightmares you had been getting recently were all over the place as if you were on your own time-traveling journey -- only it was the cruelest way possible. Fate was such a character.

“Is that the kind of books you prefer? Science fiction?”

Bucky nodded, “Guess I’ve always been interested in all that science stuff.”

That science stuff. You giggled. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “I’ve fallen a bit out of reading but I’d love to get your recommendations one day.”

“I’m not exactly well versed in all the books out there.” Because he had missed so much -- there was always that unspoken fact in every other thing he said. You wished you could coax him out of that habit but that didn’t seem possible right now. I

“Well, good thing I’m not looking to know about all the books,” you smiled, looking up at him, “I’m just looking to know about your books. Whatever comes across your radar that you end up loving, I’d like to hear about it.”

Bucky returned the smile. “What did you do with the rest of your night?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged, turning your focus back to the sidewalk ahead of you. “I fell asleep pretty much right after getting home.”

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you. From the corner of your vision, you could see a bit of a frown on his lips.

“You didn’t do anything?”

You shook your head.

“No hobbies or anything?”

You sighed. “I’m usually just too tired or too into work to do very much. Last night had been… Overwhelming for me, I think. When it was over, I was exhausted. All of me, body and mental.”

You felt Bucky’s thumb start rubbing soothing patterns on the back of your hand. Your breath caught a bit in your throat.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean for you to get overwhelmed.”

You began shaking your head profusely, “No, no, it’s not your fault, Bucky,” you insisted, “I psyched myself out a bit, I think.”

He let out a long sigh at that. “Well, you shouldn’t do that anymore,” he said, so sincerely. “I never want to bring you pain or worry, okay? That shouldn’t be what… we do.”

“We do?” You looked up at him but he had already turned away. “Oh, you mean what soulmates do.”

“The word still gets caught on the tip of my tongue.”

Your cheeks started feeling hot. “I understand.”

As the conversation faded, your coffee shop came into view. You two stopped outside it. Glancing in the window, you made eye contact with your coworker who had just begun setting up for the day. Her eyes got wide as she realized who the man was behind you. Her shock promptly morphed into excitement.

You turned back to Bucky. “Thank you for accompanying me.”

He flashed you a smile, making your heart just absolutely dissolve. “Of course,” he said. “Anyday, anytime. I’d be happy to accompany you anywhere.”

You were shamelessly full-on blushing, once again feeling like a ridiculous school girl. You had to avert your gaze as Bucky’s eyes on you were making you feel all sorts of things in these fluffy moments.

With a pointless nod and no more words, you turned to face the coffee shop entrance. One hand on the handle, you stood there. Just holding it. You could hear Bucky walking away.

Fuck it, you thought.

You quickly turned back around and dashed to catch up with him. He was walking so leisurely as if he expected this. You called out his name and he whipped around promptly, looking as if he was fighting back another smile.

“Here,” you said as you grabbed a napkin and pen from your bag and scribbled down your phone number. “It’s my number in case you want to, I don’t know, text me or call or something.”

He took the napkin gently as if it was the most precious gem in the world seconds away from shattering. With a nod, Bucky responded, “Sure, doll. Thank you.”

You smiled, giving him a nod back. That wasn’t all, though. You had another caution to throw into the wind. Quickly, you placed your hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. It was so fast you barely had time to register your own movement but Bucky definitely picked up on it. Now his face was the one with a tinge of warm color coming up on it.

“Have a good shift.” It was all Bucky seemed capable of saying as he shot you a wider smile, eyes softening at your nervous form. Before you could respond anymore, prolonging this weird but sweet goodbye for the day, he resumed his walk back.

As feelings of all sorts washed over, you headed back to the coffee shop where you finally entered… And was greeted by your coworker standing in front of the entrance, arms crossed, staring you down.

“Good morning,” you said, avoiding eye contact and trying to get around her. She stepped in your path.

“Was that…” You nodded before she could finish the words. She broke out into a surprise fit of giggles. “You met him?” She asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Last night. We had dinner and he walked me home. It was very nice.” You kept it short and sweet, not feeling like gossiping about something so fresh. But you also secretly wanted to just throw everything out there. It was exciting, it was new. Overall, though, it felt great.

Your coworker let out gasps, almost in awe. “That’s so exciting,” she said. “Is he, like, nice? Anything like-,”

You shook your head quickly, making her cut off her words. “He’s nothing like…” You didn’t want to say them anymore. Well, at least for right now. You knew a talk with Bucky about it all had to be coming but you want to push it aside for now. “He’s wonderful. A true gentleman. He showed up this morning to walk me to work. What man nowadays would do that?” You chuckled, almost in your own state of disbelief. “Plus, he’s kind of fascinating. Unexpected, even. Would you have guessed he’s a reader?”

You made your way farther into the shop, discarding your bag and throwing on an apron. You began wiping down the counters as your coworker followed.

“He sounds almost… normal?”

You stopped your movement, taking in that observation. You finally nodded in agreement. Yeah, you guessed that so far he was kind of normal. At least, personality-wise.

After a moment you said, “I think I’m glad I didn’t try to move on.”

Despite not looking at her, you knew your coworker wore another ridiculous, lovey smile. She was practically in awe and, you had to admit, you kind of were, too.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

taglist under construction right now, deepest apologies!

#bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fic #avengers #fanfiction #soulmate au #slow burn #fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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wonderlandhatter · 3 years

Text

Comfort in you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x femReader

Summary: You have a cuddly secret that is keeping you up at night, and your solution makes Spencer think you are falling out of love. (sorry that's not a great summary)

Word count:2580

Warnings: I don't think there's any, itsy tinny bit of angst if you squint but just a load of fluff

A/N: To be honest I don't know how I feel about this, I like it but idk. if I missed a warning feel free to tell me and if you have any feedback it is very welcome I am looking to improve my writing. Hope someone enjoys this :).

A/N2: My old account got deleted so I'm just reposting my fics I would appreciate if you could bust this so i could get back to where my account was thank you for your time.

Everyone has a source of comfort, something that makes everything bad disappear even for just a moment. For some it was a hobby and for others it was a person, either way everyone had one, yours just happened to be one most people have had but said people have also left it behind, along with wearing dippers and eating crayons.

You weren’t a child; you weren’t you just found comfort in it. So, what if you were in your twenties and still slept with a plushie who's business is it anyways. You can’t help it you just can’t sleep without it; you've had it since the moment you were born, plus your parents never made a move to take it away when you were younger. So here you are now.

It had never really been an issue, yes, your friends teased you but not in a hurtful way besides you had been friends since primary school, so they didn’t really care, as long as you were happy. Now boyfriends are a whole different story. You hadn't had many so it was never really an issue, you have had 3 in total if one of them even counted I mean it lasted until lunch time and you were 5 and he wouldn’t have minded since he also slept with a stuffed animal.

Your second boyfriend was in high school, you were sixteen, you hadn’t even thought about the fact he might find it strange so the first time he came over you didn’t try to hide it, it didn’t go well, he called you a baby and threw it around, and got annoyed at you when you asked him to stop because he was going to damage the plushie, the nerve of the guy. Well that did not last awfully long not just because of the plush but because he was a prick.

And now here you were 23 and dating the wonderful Dr Spencer Reid, you guys have been dating for nearly 8 months, and what amazing 8 months have they been. You owned quite a popular bookshop and that is how you met; he had come in a few times before he was able to muster up the courage to even say hello. He found everything about you wonderful, the way you handled books with such care and how you carried yourself with such grace, (the grace one wavers as in his second visit he witnessed you trip twice, but he just he found it endearing and wonderful). Honestly, he already had a bookshop he had frequented previously but this one had something no other shop could ever have. You, and so he kept coming, and you two kept talking, and talking in the shop lead to talking at the coffee shop, which lead to talking over dinner and then talking for 6 months which may have lead to some activities with some inappropriate talking, and now 8 months later and you have never been happier.

Honestly it’s a miracle you’ve made it 8 months without him finding out about your little secret, it helps that you guys hadn’t started having sex until 2 months ago, neither of you had been in a rush and so took your time, and the first time was wonderful, but that’s a story for another time. Another thing that helped was the fact that he was nearly always on a case, he made time for you, and you understood he had to be away and admired his career choice, it just meant that when you were together most of the time you chose to spend time together, saying that there have been times as soon as Hotch has dismissed him he has gone straight to your apartment and is picking you up and too your room, but what can he say, he is just but a man and you are just but a very hot woman. Thankfully that time he had been so preoccupied with getting his clothes off that you were able to put the plush under your bed without him noticing (you did feel bad about shoving it under the bed but you had no time he was a man on a mission), you hadn’t been able to sleep that night or any night you had stayed with him, so you stopped staying over even if it was just to sleep..

Now the issue came when Spencer got a couple of weeks off from work around the holidays, so you were off too. And oh boy were you tired it wasn’t that you were doing it like bunnies but you did enjoy time together so you wanted to be together for as long as you could, and you were absolutely loving all the stolen kisses and the reading to each other and arguing who the best doctor is (the sex is very good too), the trouble only came at night when he said you should stay, he hated you being out by yourself at night, too many cases involving creeps, so you would stay.

But after a few days without sleep you were so exhausted, you started making up excuse to not stay and to stop sex, it worked for a few days until it didn’t.

You had been watching some foreign film Spencer had seemed very excited for, you loved watching these with him, not because you understood what they were saying, it was complete gibberish to you, but you quite enjoying feeling his breath on your neck when he leaned down to whisper the translations for you, he knew there were subtitles and you knew there were subtitles but this turned you on and you both knew it. So, it confused Spencer when after the movie was over and after two hours of whispering and you subtly rubbing your thighs together you yawned and said you should get going.

He would never force you into anything, and would never expect sex from you, but he knew you were turned on and he knew you wanted it, he knew what you looked like when you wanted him, he had seen it enough times, and he loved the sight, but here you were clearly frustrated and about to just leave. Don’t misunderstand Spencer here it isn’t just the leaving clearly horny it’s the not having slept in the same bed for days, he knew you had some trouble sleeping any time you had slept over, he just assumed it was being out of your bed, but you almost always went out of your way to not sleep together in your bed. So, he chose to say something.

“Y/N can we talk”, “oh that seems serious” you replied humorously while tying your laces, until you looked up and saw his face, “you look upset, did I do something”, you said clearly upset,“ No! no you didn’t do anything, well you did but um ahh, I don’t know how to word this”, this was a first, he always had the words to say, normally he couldn’t stop talking, but right know all he was thinking was how his girlfriend couldn’t stand to be on the same bed as him, and how she was doing what she could to avoid sex, he knew he wasn’t overly experienced but neither was she, but he always made sure she was getting some sort of pleasure, and made it his goal to get you to finish at least twice.

What if you had faked it, what if you were falling out of love, was it all the hours he had to work or was…his thoughts were cut short by you “ Spencer please talk to me, what did I do, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you”, he could see the worry in your face and without thinking he just blurted out “do you not like me anymore”, “ What!!!” you said almost immediately, he could see the confusion in your face but you spoke before he could, “Spencer I love you, why wouldn’t I like you anymore, do you not like me anymore”, he saw the hurt in your eyes as your mind wandered and he couldn’t speak fast enough to stop that train he needed to take that hurt away, “no, no god no I love you too, I love you much it’s just that lately you’ve um, you’re always coming up with reasons to not sleep with me, and I don’t mean sex I mean even just sleep, well you’re also avoiding sex but that’s not the point, I also know you never really sleep when you’re with me and I’m sorry if being that intimate with me makes you uncomfortable, because I can see you were turned on after the movie and you were just going to leave and I just need to know if I make you uncomfortable.”, Spencer spoke so fast you were left there stunned and a little embarrassed at him knowing he turned you on but also you were backed into a corner, you could see the pain in his eyes, he though he made you so uncomfortable you couldn’t sleep in the same bed as him, at the thought of how you hurt him your eyes began to water.

“Spencer I don’t know what”, “please don’t deny it Y/N its been over a week since we slept in the same place” Spencer interrupted before you could get your pathetic attempt of n excuse out, so you were going to come clean, he is going to break up with you was the only thing going through your head but you had to tell him, you hurt him and that was worse.

So you mustered up all the courage you had and looked down because you might cry if you looked at him in the eyes, oh well all your courage could only do so much, “you don’t make me uncomfortable Spencer. You’re wonderful that isn’t why”, spencer interrupted before you could continued, he just needed answers, “then, why?”, “promise me you won’t laugh at me”, he looked confused how could you ever think he would take your feeling for granted and laugh at them, “of course I won’t” he simply said as he gently pulled your chin up with his hand, he could see your you were nervous and so gave you a kind smile, and did something you two do quite often, he offered up his pinkie, you giggled as you put your pinkies together to make a promise, after your pinkies were separated you looked slightly down again and quickly blurted out “Icantsleepwithoutmyplushieandididntwantyoutoseethatistillneededitandthatswhyicantsleepbesideyouandwhyicantsleepwheniamwithyuo” it was so quickly the flash couldn’t have understood, his confused face was honestly adorable but your adoration was cut off by his very confused “what?”, and so you took a deep breath looked at him, thought over your words for a second and finally said much slower, slightly hesitantly and embarrassed “ I can’t sleep without a plushie,” you said shyly he smiled softly at this and you continued after a beat “that’ s why I can’t sleep when I’m with you, I didn’t want you to know, I mean I’m in my twenties and still sleep with a toy its pathetic, and after a few days of not sleeping I was exhausted and so I thought I could just avoid having to sleep without it, I understand if you want to break up or if you want to make fun of me”, you stopped talking when Spencer pulled you in for a quick kiss, “sorry you were spiralling and that’s what you do when I’m spiralling”, he smiled while his face was still only a breath away, you simply nodded and made no move to move.

“So you’re not breaking up with me” you asked shyly, assuming since he had just kissed you, “why on earth would I be breaking up with you”, “because its childish and ridiculous that I can’t sleep without it”, he gently smiled and pulled your chin up to look at him with one hand and held your hand with the other. “it isn’t strange or childish, actually 44% of adults still own a childhood toy and 34% of adults sleep with a stuffed animal, its perfectly normal, and honestly really cute” the last bit made you blush but all together you felt better, “thanks bub”, “what for”, you shrugged an simply said for not making fun of you and with that he pulled you into a hug, and neither made an attempt to move.

And so here you were now in Spencer’s car on your way to your apartment, if you were being honest you were too tired to be as embarrassed as you would have normally been, but he wasn’t shaming you and all you wanted was to sleep by his side. As you got to your apartment complex you walked hand in hand, made your way inside, and went to your room.

Spencer had been there multiple times before so he had some clothes he could sleep in already there (also you may have stolen a good amount so he could borrow those too), so he put some plaid pyjama bottoms on and a graphic tee and made his way to his side of the bed, you had gone to the bathroom to do your skin care routine and came out in some thin cotton pyjama shorts and one of your (his) old Cal tech sweatshirt, he can’t deny he absolutely loves seeing you in his clothes, to him it is possibly one of the most beautiful things he has and will ever see.

You made your way under the covers and cuddled him, you both shared some lazy kisses and light touches before you stopped so you could sleep, you made an attempt to try an sleep without it but Spencer nudged you and gave you a half amused smiled so you sighed dramatically and stretched over to your bedside table were your plushie was living, as you took it out and made your way back to Spencer’s side you held it close so he couldn’t really see it. He wasn’t really having that though.

What he’s curious he wanted to see it, so with a much more amused smile and looking down at his adorable girlfriends he asked “ can I see it”, “no” you answered almost immediately and in more of a grumble against his chest, “please, you look adorable and it looks really soft, can I please see it”, and so without looking up you not so gently pulled it out from nearly fully under you and pushed it to his chest, and hid your face deeper into him. He gently picked it up and inspected it, you didn’t hear him say anything so you looked up and saw him already looking at you with simply love in his eyes, “what?” you asked slightly confused, he simply kissed you and you understood, no words were needed to explain what he felt.

You picked up the toy and hugged it again and Spencer hugged you, you felt safe, you felt loved and overall, you were happy. Maybe Spencer could be your new comfort source, you would never get rid of your plushie but maybe it wouldn’t be a necessity maybe holding him would be enough. But being honest he already was he was enough; he was more than enough. And with that thought you both drifted off exchanging quiet I love yous.

#spencer reid fic #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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supernaturalgirl20 · 3 years

Note

Prompt list #2

8. “I’ll take care of you.”

Prompt list # 1

6.Have you been taking care of yourself?”

For either Marcus or Pero. Please and thank you. So excited to read what comes out or your beautiful head. 😊💖🥰💕

Thank you for the prompts my dear I hope you enjoy 🥰 I went with Pero on this one. Love some soft (grumpy) Spaniard 😍

Warnings: fluff, small bit of angst, little bit of angry Pero, mention of sickness, poverty, mention of sex.

Pero has been gone longer than expected and your worried. What if something has happened to him. You would never know. When you married the grumpy Spaniard a year ago, you had asked him to stop selling his sword, that you wanted him home safe, wanted to start a family with him. Pero being the stubborn man that he is, agreed, but only if he could join William one last time. You we’re not happy but you compromised. He promised he would return before winter set in, that he would breed you, keep you in his bed until you were carrying his babe. Promises are worse than lies, that’s what your grandmother once said. You promise things to people, give them hope, when you know you may not be able to do it.

***

Winter was hard to prepare for, especially when you were alone. You had to ensure you had enough food to last in case you could not make it to the village, the animals needed extra care and the house had to be prepared to withstand any harsh winter conditions. You had most done, all that was left was to gather enough food supplies to see you through, making sure to get extra in case Pero returned. Although you we’re losing hope little by little each day that passed without him.

***

Going to the village was burden and a treat. A burden because of the long journey on foot, carrying heavy baskets, but also a treat as you got to catch up with some locals, who we’re always so friendly. You began to feel a chill in your bones, a pain behind your eyes. You knew it was the flu, having been outside in the wet and windy weather without the proper clothing. Something Pero would chastise you for if he were here. I must grab some medicine while I’m here. Your last stop was to Mrs. Smith the baker, she would always throw in some extra bread for you, she was a sweet old women.

“Y/N my child, come come you must sit please, you do not look well. Are you ok?”

“I’m ok it is just a cold or the winter flu, but thank you for your concern, I will take the usual if that is ok.”

“Where is that husband of yours to look after you? It is not right for a man to leave his wife for so long.”

“He should be home any day now.”

She gives you a look as if to say ‘do you even believe that’.

“Here take this tea home with you, it is my special blend, it will help.”

“Thank you so much your very kind.”

“Nonsense my dear, now you must make haste before night falls. I have given you some extra bits to see you through.”

“Thank you.”

You walk out into the street saying your final goodbye. The journey home was long and hard, the baskets weighing heavier thank usual. Making it home just before dark you prepare the drink that Mrs. Smith gave you. It tasted vile but if it helps you will bear it.

***

Sleep did not come, you were up all night coughing and with a fever. By morning you could barely move, your whole body ached. You dressed, unwillingly, but you had one more trip to make into town. How you longed for Pero to be home right now. You left early and were gone all day. You passed Mrs. Smith and she barely let you leave then village.

“Dios mio, my dear you can not walk home like this. You look like death.”

You laugh, well try to,through the coughing.

“I’m ok I promise, I’m heading home now and I promise I will rest.” She offered for you to use her horse and cart, but you politely refused, having never taken Pero up on his riding lessons. You struggled home, as you came over the slight hill, your home just beyond it, you began to feel dizzy. Swaying your vision beginning to go, you collapse on the road, baskets falling on you. You do not know how long you’ve been on the ground, coming in and out of consciousness, you think you hear the distant sound of a horse. A figure looks over you, this must be death.

“Mi esposa? Mi amor please wake up, wake up. No….no you canno be dead. Por qué la dejé?”

Everything is dark, your head feels heavy, but your body feels weightless, like your flying.

***

You wake startled to find you are in your home, in bed to be exact. How did I get here? You here a clatter in the kitchen and some muffled curses. Trying to get out of bed to see who is in your home, the door bursts open and you finally see him. It’s been too long and yet like he never left.

“Hermosa! What are you doing out of bed, you need to rest.”

He lifts you up and gently places you back in bed. He pushes some hair from your face, and he is staring at you with a strange look on his face.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?”

“I have yes, it have been hard I won’t lie but..”

He puts a hand up indicating that he was not finished. “Clearly not, if I arrive home only to find my wife nearly dead on the road. You should not have been out in that weather, especially when you are no well!” You pull the covers over you, Pero has never been this angry before, not with you.

“I canno believe you were so reckless, I don’t know what I would do if you were gone.”

The anger in him dissipates and he moves towards you slowly, gently lifting your chin so you are looking directly at him.

“I am sorry mi esposa…kiss….mi vida…kiss….mi amor. I was just worried. I am home now I’ll take care of you.”

“Pero you should not be kissing me, you could get sick also.”

“Hmm I will kiss my wife if I want. I am built of strong stuff do not worry.”

He leans in to kiss you again, the warmth of him consuming you. You shiver slightly and he notices shedding himself of his armour, and with nothing on he slides in behind you pulling you close.

“I will keep you warm mi amor, and when you are over this we will start on that family no?”

It was good to have Pero home.

Tagging

@lunaserenade @day-off-inkyoto @asta-lily @anaaaispunk @librariantothejedi @maievdenoir @elinedjarin @kirsteng42 @loserrlauraa @dihra-vesa @seasonschange-butpeopledont @pascal-rascal424 @ikinmahlen @janelongxox @almaeunice @javierpinme @thorins-queen-of-erebor @dindjarinneedsahug @jediknight122 @stevie75

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pero tovar x reader #pero x reader #pero tovar x female reader #pedro pascal x female reader #pero x fem!reader

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bakubub · 3 years

Text

Best friend rigs the Secret Santa for Bakugo and yourself to get one another...

A/N: Hullo everybody!! This is part 2 (find part one HERE) of this Pinterest Prompt and part 3 will (hopefully) be the final part. I honestly thought this would be a 800 word fic but now we're barreling towards almost 5k all together whoops lol-

Warnings: Just a few swears here and there, SFW, its literally all Bakusquad shenanigans.

Word count: abt 1.5k, ENJOY <3

"Soooooo~ Who d'ya get for the cringle?" Kaminari asks, leaning back on his chair dangerously to look back at me, sitting on the desk behind him. I raise my eyebrows, since I can't just raise the one, and flick my pen expertly in my hand.

"Mr. Aizawa," I answered seriously. "I'm thinking of getting him another sleeping bag. The musty yellow one isn't really his colour."

Looking genuinely confused, Kaminari looks around to see if anyone else overheard our conversation.

I laugh at him, and kick his chair forward, causing him to shriek as he sits squarely on his butt. I look down to see a folded note on my desk, opening to read it as Mr Aizawa tells us to settle down;

Lover boy was TOTALLY just greasing off Kaminari for making you laugh. I think someone's still jealous from the whole sleeping incident...

Catching Mina's eye, I give her an I don't think so look, which she promptly rolls her eyes at. Its been a whole weekend since the 'sleeping incident', where I had woken up with Kaminari's arms wrapped around my waist and his head nestled on my stomach. Accidentally of course. We, along with Bakugo and Kirishima, had fallen asleep on the couch in the common room, talking late last Friday night.

It really wasn't a big deal... Kaminari apologised several times. I got over it, he got over it, and I don't see why Bakugo, whom Mina just loves to call 'lover boy', would even care.

Plus, I have bigger problems. Like what to get said lover boy for the Christmas Cringle we were supposed to be exchanging this Saturday. He's literally impossible to buy for. Well, I could always just buy him a new pair of shorts or something, but since I've had a crush on him since literally the first day of school, it needs to be perfect.

So far I've thought of a cookbook, an apron, a scarf since he's always wearing the brown one, or maybe even a matching beanie; then again his hair has such personality I don't even know if he CAN put a beanie over those suspiciously natural spikes...

"Hellooooo, come on, Aizawa dismissed us," Mina says, nudging my shoulder.

I snap out of my daze and gather my things, following out of the nearly empty classroom.

"Decided on what to get monsieur Hothead yet?" I sigh, already having predicted this question.

"Nope," I say, popping the p as we walk to the dorm rooms. "I'm thinking of maybe getting-"

"Hey girls, wanna meet at the common room at 6 for a rematch of UNO?" Kaminari asks, coming up from behind us and slinging an arm over my and Mina's shoulders like he always does.

"Yeah sure, we're down." Mina answers, pinching him in the side so he lets us out of his grasp. We duck away, laughing and continuing our banter, before I catch Bakugo's gaze.

"You coming too, Bakugo?" I ask, walking up next to him, ignoring my heart trying to escape its cage.

"Coming where?" He grumbles, still looking disgruntled and angry.

"We're playing UNO around 6 today in the common room. Come on, it'll be fun," I say, trying to persuade him into coming, since he never usually participates.

"HELL NO! I don't have time to waste, especially with you extras," He yells at me. I huff, rolling my eyes and continuing to ignore the feeling of my heart beating in my eyeballs, as I grumble, "you never do," and walk back next to Mina, who was now somehow in a water fight with Kirishima, Kaminari and Sero.

Overall certain that I didn't let my nerves peek through while talking to him, I don't register what's happening as Sero grabs Oijiro's water bottle out of his bag, unscrews the lid, then promptly dumps it over my head.

With Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari and even Bakugo gasping in the background, I wiped the water off my face, before realising my mascara had probably smudged all over my cheeks and glared at Sero, who was slowly backing away.

I practically growl before chasing him, blindly grabbing my own water bottle out of my bag and drenching him, messing up his styled hair which has him shrieking "sorry, I'm so sorry!" and has me cackling in sweet, sweet revenge.

---

"PLUS FOUR?! AGAIN KIRISHIMA! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" Mina screeches as she pounds Kirishima's arm from next to him, who is laughing and judging from his reaction, barely feeling her punches. I know from experience, that Mina punches hard. He has to be really tough not to show an inkling of pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just really have to win this one!" He says, shooting a guilty smile Mina's way. Maybe he just doesn't feel pain in general...? I stare at him with suspicion as Mina huffs and she rolls her eyes at him, promptly dropping a four plus for the next person in our circle, who just happened to be me.

"Hey! Not cool, hypocrite." I mutter.

"I had to get my anger out somehow. I'm pretending you're Kirishima. Go on, pick up those cards, you slimy rat," Mina says smugly.

Giving her a confused look at her weird logic, I continued the game, Shoji and Hagakure also having joined in half way.

Just as I'm about to announce UNO, Bakugo stomps through the common room and sits right in between myself and Mina, crossing his legs on the floor and leaning back on his two hands.

"BAKUBRO! YOU CAME!" Kirishima yells excitedly, Kaminari and Sero also whooping and cheering.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. I finished my work and came to see what you idiots were doing." He says, voice gruff but not screaming for once.

I raise my brows at him, and he scowls and looks the other way, not being able to face me after he so rudely rejected my invitation a few hours ago.

"Oh please, you just couldn't handle the FOMO." I say teasingly, smirking at him without fully turning my face so the others can hear.

Sero stifles a laugh and Kaminari looks confused before the dots connect and he also has his hand clamped around his mouth.

"She has a green 7," is all he says, a sadistic look of satisfaction overtaking his features. It takes a moment for all of us to realise what he just said.

Mina cackles as she changes the colour to red, effectively stopping me from winning the game.

Shooting him a dirty look, I lean over to grab another card, simultaneously elbowing him hard in the shin, which he doesn't even react to.

What is it with these guys and their weirdly high pain tolerance?

Ignoring him now, we continue the game, Kirishima practically slamming his last card on top of the deck. "I WON, I WON, man that was so MANLY," He celebrates as I see Mina rolling her eyes and silently fuming. I begin to shuffle and hand out the cards deliberately skipping Bakugo, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"Oi, where are my cards?" He asks, annoyance evident in his tone as Kirishima continues to gloat in the background about how manly his win was and Kaminari complaining about how he never "gets the good cards." When I don't respond, Bakugo steals my cards from in front of me, leaning forward to play with the others.

Snarling, I grab my cards out of his hand, causing him to snarl back, until we're fighting for the 7 cards.

"What are you guys doing, there's a whole ass deck here, you know," Sero says, eyebrows raised and nudging Kirishima.

"These. Ones. Are. MINE." I gasp out, my knee coming around to jab him in his side as his hand pushes me down from my sternum. Oxygen knocked out of my lungs, I gasped for air as I tried to hold the cards out of his reach, my hero training kicking in as I snake my other arm around the back of his neck to hold him in an upside down headlock. Trying to push his forehead onto the ground, I give the cards to Mina, who laughs and takes them, after taking a photo of us.

Having apparently heard the camera click, Bakugo (after struggling a great deal might I smugly add) gets out of my head lock and zones in on Mina. "Delete that photo, Racoon Eyes," He snarls.

"Not in a million years. Awww, look Bakugo are you blushing?" She says, pointing at her phone.

Eyes widening and red creeping up his neck, Bakugo snatches the phone out of her hand and deletes the photo, before getting up and leaving.

"C'mon Bakubro, she's just joking," Kirishima says, following him out.

"Yeah man, you didn't even play a game yet," Sero adds.

"I HAVE STUFF TO DO!" He screams, seemingly going back to his old self.

"Didn't you just say that you finished your homework?" Kaminari asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

"SHUT IT, CHARGEBOLT! I DON'T NEED TO EXPLAIN MYSELF TO YOU," he says a tad too harshly, turning slightly to glare at him with bulging eyeballs. Kaminari closes his mouth and shuffles his cards, trying not to set him off again.

"Bakugo-" I start, but when he doesn't turn, I find myself letting him leave.

Staring dejectedly at Mina, she gives me a giddy smile and grabs my phone, going onto her messages and smirking as she shows me the photo he just deleted.

"I sent it to you as soon as I took it. Thank me later," she says, winking, as she gets up to leave, dragging Sero and Kaminari with her.

I look down at the slightly blurry photo, seeing me handing Mina the UNO cards under Bakugo with a desperate expression. He has his hand pressed down on my sternum, straddling my waist and looking down at me, with an unmistakable smile gracing his features. Unless that's just a new way of scowling.

The phone dims and all of a sudden I'm confronted with my own expression on the darkened screen.

A lovesick fool.

That's all I can see.

A/N: Ngl pretty proud of that ending. JUst in case I'm not as slick as I think I am, she meant herself and Bakugo, hehe <3

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

Find part 3 HERE

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakusquad #mha x you #mha katsuki #bnha imagines #bakugo x female reader #mina mha

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alicemitch09writes · 3 years

Text

skinny love

pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

summary: 6 months later. Was he too late?

author’s notes: This is a direct sequel to first love and part of a trilogy also aptly named ‘first love’ ugh, i am so unoriginal. Please go read that first before this, otherwise you’ll be confused.

also available on ao3.

disclaimer: i own NOTHING but the plot.

His feet feel like lead as he trudged to the vending machine, adamant on getting coffee. It was only Monday. The smallest sounds of coin drops and beeps were making his head hurt.

Taking his first sip of his coffee, he walked around the quiet halls.

He hated hospitals.

Actually, they weren't that bad, having everything it needed to cater to the patient's needs. But it was a façade to their impending doom. And he hated it. Hated the way doctors and nurses would say with practiced ease that everything will be alright – when it won't.

They mean well, they really do, but they were a painful reminder of how fragile life was – how easy it can be taken away.

Reaching Room #423, he turned the knob, finding (Name) in the same state she's been the past six months. The door shuts quietly behind him, back resting against it.

"Tetsu, have you been eating?"

He could almost hear her voice, filled with worry of how thin he is. She always did that, nagging him like a mom to eat if he wanted to win. Funny she thought that, thinking more of his (and the team's) welfare's than her own. (Name) was always that kind.

Instead, the image of that beautiful girl was replaced with one lying on the hospital bed – limp and lifeless.

(Name) didn't belong here, not in this hospital nor in that bed she was lying in. No.

She deserved to be home, in her room surrounded by her instruments, fussing herself with her studies, that new song she wanted to learn, or managing a pack of rowdy boys.

He didn’t know how long he just stood there before he heard a knock at the door. Lazily turning his body, he opened the door; his actions seemed robotic, staring at two familiar faces.

"Hey man," Bokuto greeted, balloons in different colors and shapes (there was one in the shape of an owl) in hand, worry in his eyes. "Wow, you look like shit."

"Thanks." He said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That wasn't very nice, Bokuto-san." Akaashi scolded, appearing behind the salt-and-pepper-haired teen with flowers in his hands.

Too tired to argue, he stepped aside, letting them in. Closing the door behind him, he watched the two eyeing the unconscious girl, hearing Bokuto sighing while Akaashi dutifully went straight for the vase, intending to replace the flowers.

He plopped down on his seat, canned coffee still in hand.

"But seriously man," Bokuto called, tying the balloons next to the side table. "you look terrible."

Kuroo closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose.

"When was the last time you went out?"

"Bokuto-san." Akaashi called in warning, appearing from the toilet with a vase filled with clean water.

"I'm serious!" Kuroo draped an arm over his eyes as if to hide the bags underneath. "Dude, you barely left since. Day in, day out, you're here but never at home. Nowhere else but here. You even ditched your first year of college!"

"I won't want to leave her," Kuroo said, still not moving from his spot.

Bokuto frowned at his friend, arms crossed. "I'm not saying that you should, I'm saying (Name)-chan wouldn't like to see you this way."

(Name).

Sighing, Kuroo slumped forward, arms propped on his knees, staring at the sterile ground.

"We're just worried about you, Kuroo."

That must be the umpteenth time someone's told him that – his mom, his dad, his older sister, Kenma, Coach Nekomata, the team. But still, his resolve won't change.

Taking a long sip, he met both stares from Bokuto and Akaashi, who had just finished with the flowers.

"I'm not leaving her." he said in finality, turning to the sleeping girl. There were a lot of things he wanted to tell her, a lot. And he wanted to be the first person she sees when she wakes up, the first person to see her wake.

Sighing exasperatedly, hands on his hips, Bokuto resigned. His friend was stubborn, but he had an iron resolve. "I know you won't. Figured as much."

"Then why do you still bother?"

Smirking at the raven-haired teen, he says with a shrug. "Because bro, you matter to me."

Kuroo put a hand to his heart, touched. "Bro."

"Bokuto-san just wanted to act cool every once in a while," Akaashi coolly said, opening the drapes. That earned a loud, familiar call from his former captain. Kuroo smiled, some things never change.

"But seriously dude, you could use a bath because you smell like shit."

Akaashi didn't need to scold him then as Bokuto received a (friendly) punch to the gut from Kuroo.

Six months.

That's how long he was suffering, how long he had been tortured by the mere thought of never seeing her smile again, of never hearing her laugh again, of never having her around again – of never seeing her again.

The word cancer stuck to his head was like a punch to the gut, pummeling him inside out with every step he took. Never mind the burning pain of his muscles from a day's worth of match, never mind finally giving their coach the chance to witness the 'Battle at the Dumps' match even though they lost, never mind that his high school life had officially come to an end – they didn't matter at this point. He just wanted to see her.

And the first time he saw her – dressed in a hospital gown, with tubes sticking to her body connected to machines that kept her alive, he was crushed. As if he were a porcelain doll smashed into a million pieces, each fragment breaking into smaller pieces.

He nearly broke down at the sight of her. She was beautiful as ever, yet to see her in that situation broke his heart.

(Name) had been operated; the chances of her survival were slim. But the only thing Kuroo could think was how small (Name) looked in that big, white bed.

Picking her hands, he noted how small they were – how he could practically see and feel her bones. Threading his finger through hers, he brought them to his cheek, relishing in her warmth. These were the same fingers that cared for him each time he'd earn a bruise or a scratch, the same hands that brushed his hair when he was sleepy – gentle touches that made him think that she was an angel. Slim fingers that did magic with every instrument she held.

He always knew she was small – fragile, even – but it only clicked to him now as to why that was the case. Ironic that he was the perceptive guy, inside and outside the court, yet he failed to notice his best friend's wellbeing. How did he miss to notice how little she would eat, how easily tired she was, or how low her stamina was? He was supposed to be the smart guy, for crying out loud!

He wanted to hit himself, to numb himself of the pain.

The moment he found out, he wouldn't stop crying, hating himself every minute of every day.

(Name) wouldn't wake up.

(Name). Wouldn't. Wake. Up.

"Kuroo," a voice called, quiet and low, one he knew all too well. Weakly raising his head, he looked over his shoulder, meeting a familiar blonde teen.

Kenma looked at his best friend worriedly, a frown in his face. "You should go home." The raven-haired lad shook his head, Kenma sighed. "(Name) wouldn't like that."

"I'm not leaving her." he says, voice raspy.

Kenma stared, eyes narrowing. "Have you been eating at least?"

"I've been snacking on what Auntie gives me," he rubs his eyes tiredly, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll be fine."

His dark hair was greasy, sticking out to different directions – messier than usual; there were bags under his eyes. The clothes he's been wearing were days old now, but it's not like he leaves the hospital. How long has he had proper sleep or shower?

"You're not." Kenma pointed out, walking towards the bed, opposite to where his friend was. He arranges the plushies from various game characters beside her bed, dusting a few. When he was done, he stood next to the unconscious girl, eyes dancing with sorrow.

Kuroo watched his friend carefully, a question burning his head. "How long have you known?"

Kenma blinked. Deciding to sit down, he met Kuroo's gaze. "A while now." He answers as if anticipating the question. "(Name) was the most secretive amongst us three; I thought you'd have known first." Shrugging, he adjusted her blanket. "But you didn't." Kuroo wanted to laugh at that because it was half-true. They both knew he was far more observant than he let on.

Sighing, the blonde props his arm on a nearby desk, resting his head on his palm. "Knowing her secret was like carrying a heavy burden because it's her secret and your knowledge of her sickness."

Frowning, he asked. "She didn't know that you knew?"

The blonde shook his head without looking at him. "Like I said, it was a burden on my part as well. Plus, that'd be disrespecting (Name). And I can't do that to her."

Something likened to rage burned within him, he was standing before his best friend before he knew it. "And you didn't bother to tell me?"

"It's not my secret to tell." Kenma says easily, carefully setting her clamped hand aside.

"But we're best friends!" Kuroo's voice rose, earning a scoff from the blonde as he turned to meet his gaze, eyes almost challenging.

"Don't you think that'd be disrespecting (Name)'s decision?" Kuroo was practically shaking now, hands balled into a fist. "Besides, it's not like you cared to begin with-"

Kuroo had grabbed him by the collar, raising him to his level. "I dare you to say that again." He seethed hotly, eyes burning.

Kenma didn't falter, eyes glowering. "What's the matter, Kuroo? Upset that for once, you failed to gain information before me to break someone, to use it to your advantage? Or are you just mad that (Name) couldn't trust you enough?"

"Shut up!" his voice rose, grip tightening.

Steely gold hues met his, challenging and mocking. "Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?"

That was the final straw.

Taking his hand back, Kuroo was just about to smack Kenma in the face when blaring sound rang through the room. The two automatically turned to her, panicked, Kuroo dropped Kenma, ran for the intercom while Kenma stared at (Name)'s body, not knowing what to do.

A little while later, a nurse came rushing in.

Kuro and Kenma stepped aside, watching the nurse attend to their best friend each holding their breath. Kuroo was wondering if he should've called for her doctor, but after a while, the nurse sedated her, (Name)'s body relaxed.

The gentle beep of the heart monitor demonstrated her calmness.

"She'll be alright, just a little stressed is all." The nurse says kindly, much to their relief.

They sighed in unison, rooted on the spot even as the nurse left the room.

(Name)'s breathing slowly through the calming silence that came, followed by the purring of the machines and quite chattering outside.

The two best friends stood there, watching the unconscious girl. Kuroo and Kenma slumped against the wall, the raven-haired teen slipping to the ground. The tension between the two was still there, something that was rare even for them. In the many years they knew each other, not once have they got into a fight this extreme. And even if a fight did ensue, there was only one person who could bring it to a stop, one person they'd bow to other than Yaku.

"She'd kill us by now," Kenma sighs, breaking the silence.

Kuroo snorted at that, hiding the smile on his face.

Eventually, he broke into fits of laughter. Kenma joined in.

"She'd give us a litany," Kuroo added, voice thick. "then she'd take us by the ear."

Kenma shuddered, rubbing at his ear. Kuroo did the same.

"You started it though," Kenma told him, bluntly.

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him. "But you fanned the flames."

They burst into chuckles, tension dying down.

A little while later, the room was filled with members of the Nekoma team – bringing flowers, fruits, and toys. Each member, especially Yamamoto, Inuoka, and Lev, fawned over their unconscious manager while Fukunaga fussed over the snacks. Yaku had to keep everyone in line.

The best friends exchanged a look, knowing that if (Name) were awake, she couldn't be any happier.

Someone was waking him, gently shaking his shoulders. Raising his head from his folded arms, he was met with warm (eye color) eyes. "Tetsuroo-kun." The woman greeted kindly.

"Auntie," He stood up in greeting, pulling his wrinkled clothes down. "Good evening."

Her smile, it reminded him of hers, how he missed her smile. "Good evening." Walking across the room, she dropped her bag and sat on the chair next to her daughter, patting a hand over her cheek. "Any news?" she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head, hands tightening. "Just the same."

The smile remained, eyes never losing its light. "Then she's still alright."

Just staring at the woman made him wonder how she could still be so optimistic about the situation. It must be hard on her, her only daughter was under coma after her operation, yet she never loses hope. She was just like (Name). And duh, she was her mom!

"Have you eaten?"

He nodded. "Yeah." He lied, tucking his hands on his pockets.

She stared, her smile waning a bit, worry in her eyes, then nods.

"Where is Uncle?" he asked, staring at freshly cut flowers next to her bed – carnations, care of the Fukorodani team.

"Oh, just parking the car. He'll be here in a while."

Kuroo nods, not knowing what else to say. So he sits by the couch, watching Auntie talked to her daughter, telling her how her classmates missed her (evidenced by the balloons and cards surrounding her bed), how their neighbors have as well, how quiet the house has been lately without her playing, the little things. But to her, they were all that mattered.

He hung his head, not wanting to watch any longer. He could hear the sadness in her voice, the longing, and yet, she still hopes. How could she?

"I'll be right back, Auntie." He announces, making his way out before she could reply, missing the worried look on her face.

Six months.

Six excruciating months.

He's endured and suffered that long.

But still, she wouldn't wake up.

Splashing water to his face, he then looked up, finding a miserable guy staring back at him.

Then are you guilty because it's practically your fault she's in this situation?

No matter what they say, it was his fault she was in this situation. It was his fault she's lying in that hospital bed, unconscious. It was his fault.

He wanted to punch his reflection so bad, but he was tired (physically and emotionally).

He didn't like hospitals, hated how clinically clean it was and how dreadful it was. Life came and go here.

Reaching for the door to her room, he paused.

What good would it be for him to be here?

He didn't deserve to be here keeping guard and watching her.

What was he even doing here?

"Aren't you going to go in?" a voice called behind him.

Turning, he was met with a kind gaze from a bespectacled (hair color) man. Their kind disposition ran in the family, he didn't deserve it.

At a loss for words, Kuroo mumbled unintelligent words, the man laughed heartily.

"Looks like you need a bite," although shorter than the teen, he wrapped his arm around his shoulders, steering them away. "come, you need to eat."

Kuroo gulped, staring down at the meal before him, then at the smiling man. There were a few people at the cafeteria – a few nurses and doctors on break, a kid with his mother, some teens, and them.

A comfortable silence forms between them despite having fidgeting in his presence.

The smell of strong spice was making his mouth water, aptly reminding him of the lie he told Auntie. Truth was, he snacked on some fruits given by his family earlier that day, that and coffee. A little while later, his stomach growled. The old man chuckled heartily. "Go on," he encourages.

Timidly, he nodded, saying his grace before digging in.

His eyes widened at the burst of flavors in his mouth, almost forgetting what an amazing cook the man was. He chewed carefully, distracting himself with the texture and taste.

He hadn't noticed the old man leaving until he came back with a can of orange juice for both of them. Kuroo muttered a 'thanks', chugging down the beverage.

"It's so good to see you eat," he tells him, eyes crinkling. "and no, you can't lie to me. I know you, Tetsuroo-kun." He laughed.

It was like he was eight again. It was always like that with this man, this amazing man, who held instruments like magic, the same man who was the father of the girl lying in this very hospital bed, comatose, because of him.

He chewed slowly, eyes dropping. Eventually, he swallowed but didn't reach for more even though the bento box was still full.

"Oh, are you done eating?" asked the confused man.

He almost wanted to laugh.

These past months weren't easy on all of them, especially for them. They could have blamed him for why their daughter was here, but they didn't. Instead, they pulled themselves together for her and for him.

"Thank you, uncle." He says instead, meaning it. Kuroo grinned at the confused man before digging in again.

He shook his head at the teen before him, chuckling heartily. He studies the young boy before him, remembering the look on his face when he saw her comatose state – it was the look of absolute heartbreak.

When he was done eating, they packed slowly, making slow talk (although it was more of him doing the talking). They were standing outside her room, but before they entered, he called him.

"She wouldn't like it you know," he tells him, sincerely. "seeing you like this, filled with guilt and hate. She would've wanted you to be happy, even if she's not the one causing it."

There was a sharp tug in his heart at the last line. "But she makes me happy." It was barely a whisper, tears starting anew. "But I didn't let her know that."

His eyes were stinging with tears, body trembling.

The older man patted his shoulder, squeezing in assurance.

While waiting for her to wake up, he often talked to her about their childhood, some dumb memories, and some good ones. He even told her of the events that transpired during nationals, not knowing that she was watching via live television.

"You should've been there," he said quietly, letting his fingers play with her growing (hair color) hair. "the team wouldn't be anything without our manager."

Some days, he'd read to her, having scavenged through her room from her yet to-read pile. He had to endure going through books that were not of his genre (especially romance), but in the end, found himself enjoying them.

With each passing day, the hope of her waking up was waning. He feared she might never wake up. The waiting was killing him, unnerving and destroying him. But he didn't give up hope, could never. He could wait years if he has to, just to see her (eyes color) eyes again, hear her laugh again, and be with her.

"Oh my, it's that boy again! He's become a familiar face around here."

"How long has he been visiting her?"

"About six months now, since that girl was brought in. He practically lives here."

"Poor thing, looks like he hasn't eaten or slept for days!"

"And he barely leaves her room. And when he does, it's only for a few hours or a day, and then he's back."

"Seriously?"

"The poor boy, the pain he's been through."

"And she might never wake up."

"I don't care what they say," he says against their intertwined fingers. "you are perfect to me. And I'm not leaving you."

It was barely midnight, but he couldn't help it. The conversation he heard earlier was getting to him. They didn't know anything about him or her. It was none of their business.

But to say that she was never going to wake up?

No.

He didn't like to think about it.

She was going to wake up.

He knew it.

But honestly? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Shifting in his seat, he threw his head back, massaging at his throbbing temples. When he opened his eyes, he noted something from the corner of his eye. Her ukulele was lying beside her; he stared at it long and hard before deciding to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, he noticed scratches and a Band-Aid on the crack of the soundboard. Something tugged inside him; he knew exactly where that crack came from.

His grip tightened.

Kenma was right, he was selfish.

He was so selfish.

Absentmindedly, he played with the strings, filling the silence. And then, he began adjusting the chords. It used to drive (Name) nuts, especially when she found how out of tune her ukulele was because of him. He smiled, he always loved seeing her cute face pinched into a frown – she was so cute like that.

Satisfied with the pitch, his calloused fingers began to play a few strings. The song was slow, gentle.

I wanna make you smile, whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do, is grow old with you

I'll get your medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh it could be so nice, growing old with you

He loved her.

Cliché as it is, he did.

Truth of the matter is, he's always been in love with her.

From the first moment they met, the first time he saw her smile, the first time she scolded him and Kenma, the first time she fussed over them, the first time he saw her play an instrument, to the first time she made him realize how many years have passed that he was so, so, in love with her.

So hopelessly in love with (Name).

Except, he was scared to risk their friendship – scared that she might not feel the same way he did.

I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let ya hold the remote control

Six months without her was absolute torture.

She was part of every significant event in his life; he couldn't remember spending a day without her in it

Because life without her? He couldn't even imagine.

It was meaningless.

If he could, he'd turn back time and make it right.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed if you've had too much to drink

I could be the man who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you

The last lines of the song came out barely a whisper.

Releasing a shaky breath, he hung his head, tears streamed freely. "I've waited so long to play that."

It was the cheesiest song from a lousy movie. But the song, he had to admit, was one of his low-key favorites. The lyrics to the song were so sincere and heartfelt. He finally understood why love songs were made – to say the words everyone failed to say or supplement their feelings.

If only she was awake, then she'd hear his feelings.

Putting her ukulele away, he takes her hand in his, holding it close as he cried. "Please, wake up."

He buried his face into her hand, kissing it as he repeatedly begs for her to wake up, tears still streaming. "There's so much I want to tell you, so much I want you to know."

Taking her hand, he places a quick kiss to her palm, pressing it against his chest. "Feel that? That's my heart and it's beating for you."

His heart was beating fast, as it always did when (Name) was around.

Every single thing she does wonders is magic to him, especially with the way he captivated her the moment their eyes met. He missed it all – her smile, her touch, her eyes, her laugh, in general, he missed her.

So much it hurt.

Because the possibility of her never waking up was a factor that scared him every single day for the past six months. He didn't want their last meeting to be of him being an ass to her.

His heart skipped a beat.

He looked up at her, then at the hand on his chest, he swore he felt her hand twitch.

#kuroo tetsurou x reader #reader insert #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsurou angst #kuroo x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #hq #hq x reader #hq fanfic #haikyuu!! fanfic #haikyuu!! angst #hq angst #nekoma #kozume kenma

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anisstories · 3 years

Text

I Don't Want This

Chapter 6

The Next Morning

When Y/N awoke in the morning, she panicked, she didn’t know this room, and then she turned around. There was Anakin asleep, the sun shining on his face. His hair seemed to become even more golden. Y/N still felt tipsy. She looked at the foot of the bed and there were her clothes. It was 5 in the morning and no sound was heard. I doubt anyone’s awake, I’ll change, leave a note, and get a cab to the company. Shit, how strong is a Flameout? I'm falling back into a drunken state. Before that could happen she stood up, put her clothes on, went to Anakin’s desk grabbed a post-it, and started to right:

Hey Anakin,

I didn’t want to wake you up. Thanks for letting me crash here last night. Sorry for being such a bother. I promise I will never drink when you're around.

Next time I see you we'll be "happily married".

Warm Regards,

Y/N

Heiress to the Aridam Empire XD.

Anakin awoke to the sound of shuffling in his room. He turned around and saw Y/N writing something on a sticky note. The events of last night came to his mind. WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE? I should have kicked her out yesterday. She'll pay at this moment. Anakin got out of bed and stalked over to her. Y/N turned around only to be met with Anakin's bare chest. His pectorals glistened in the sunlight. "Hey, sorry I didn't mean to wake you. I was just about to leave. Sorry for-" "Last night I brought you into my home and you know who saw? Padmé. You already ruined my relationship. So you're going to stay here and we're going to be caught sleeping together. I don't care if your dignity is at stake." Anakin said as he pushed Y/N onto the bed. "Strip" Anakin said his voice and face were void of emotion. "w-what do you m-mean strip?" "Strip. Don't make me repeat myself." She felt a weight next to her. "I don't want to touch your disgusting body. So strip and go back to sleep. If you don’t I’m going to have to strip you myself, and you won’t like that." Y/N felt so embarrassed but she started stripping, fearing what Anakin would do if she disobeyed. She hesitated when she reached her panties. "Keep your underwear on." He opened the comforter for her. She stepped in, her back facing his chest, and felt Anakin's arms wrap around her bare waist. She felt so vulnerable in only her bra and panties. She knew that if someone walked in she would face the biggest embarrassment of her life. She started to squirm, to get away. But his grip tightened. "I said go to sleep," he growled. Anakin wasn't human anymore. He had gone feral. The love of his life was probably lost and all because of this stupid girl that laid next to him.

There was no going through to him. He roughly turned Y/N around. "Stop squirming. You said you'd follow my lead, so do it." He pulled her closer. Y/N started hitting his chest, muttering I hate you. Anakin grabbed her wrists. "Stop" his voice an octave lower. Y/N stopped. I hate you too, Y/N. Once we get married, I'll make your life a living hell. Anakin started to rub her back. Trying to get her to sleep. He wanted this to seem natural. He finally heard light snoring from Y/N. He went to grab his phone but feared the messages he would find there. He placed it back and started playing with Y/N's hair to help him fall asleep.

At 7 there was a knock at his door. Y/N jolted but Anakin held her tighter. He pulled the comforter low enough to reveal his bare chest and Y/N's bra. Then he heard Owen's voice "If I don't hear shuffling in 1 second I'm coming in." Of course it had to be this asshole. He grabbed Y/N's chin and started nuzzling into her neck. This caused Y/N to start whimpering. "You’re a piece of shit, you know that?" she said as she tried to push him away. “So I’ve heard” he mumbled. Anakin got tired of getting pushed away, so he flipped them over. He was hovering above her. Y/N’s arms got tired so he just pulled them to her side. This caused the comforter to fall off the bed. Owen walked in to see Anakin on top of Y/N. "Oh Maker. Fuck. Oh shit, I'm so sorry." Owen stuttered. "Can you stop staring at MY girl?" Anakin growled. "I wasn't staring at her. I was staring at you. Are you that insatiable?" Owen started laughing. "What do you - " and Anakin groans. Y/N accidentally brushed her leg against Anakin's groin and he felt a strong surge of pleasure coarse through his body. Shit, I was supposed to be mad. Not get turned on. "USE PROTECTION KIDS '' Owen closed the door and Anakin’s alarm clock hit it. He could hear Owen's laughter down the hall.

Y/N looked at Anakin’s sweatpants. There was a large bulge in them. When I brushed against it, his face contorted, I think it was out of pain. Y/N started brushing her knee against it. Anakin's eyes nearly popped out of his socket. "Mm..stop." Anakin was becoming less mad. Fuck this is bad... "No, this is payback for this morning." Y/N started brushing faster and harder. "Y-Y/N, h-hold o-o-oh Fuck!" Anakin spit. He fell on top of her chest. Y/N would've been mad. But when he fell onto her chest she had better access to that spot. Anakin started thrusting his hips into her knee. Y/N's name falling out of his lips. At this moment Y/N realized he hadn't groaned out of pain, he had groaned out of pleasure. So she pulled her knee away. Anakin's hips thrust into the air. Y/N heard Anakin moan out in pain. "Y-you, you’re a bitch" he growled. “Says the guy who forced me to strip.” She tried to get up only to fail, as Anakin had a death grip on her waist. "Hey let go," Y/N grumbled. Anakin refused. His breathing was labored and his forehead had a layer of sweat. "It hurts. Give me a fucking second!” he yelled. Y/N rolled her eyes, muttered I hope you die of pain and reached for her phone, or that’s what she thought at least. When she opened “her” phone she saw a bunch of messages.

Anakin I can’t believe you did that.

I fucking knew it. You’re a piece of shit.

I hope you get thrown into a ditch.

I can’t believe you got with my best friend.

I hope you both die.

We are done.

Don’t look or try to talk to me.

Y/N dropped the cellphone. It fell on Anakin’s head. “I’m already in pain and you dropped a cellphone on my head. I fucking hate you.” as he looked up he saw Y/N looking at him with guilty eyes. “I thought that was my phone and I read the messages Padme sent you. I’m sorry I fucked up your relationship,” she mumbled. “What do they say?” he asked, his tone cold and detached. Y/N started to read aloud the messages and Anakin felt his heart crack piece by piece. “Oh well, it was bound to happen,” he felt a sharp sting on his cheek. “How can you say that? I mean you have her as LOML on your contacts. You said you were gonna get us out of it and suddenly you're okay with getting married to me?” she said. “You don’t even feel a tiny bit sad. Don’t you want to scream or cry? If that was me I'd be very outraged." Y/N looked out the window. "Can you be logical? You think we were going to convince our parents. That was a false hope Y/N. They were gonna force us to get married. Padme isn't the type to share her boyfriend so its end was inevitable anyway." Anakin grumbled. I can't make her life miserable. She is suffering just as much as I am. I mean Y/N's here saying sorry for ruining my relationship. And it wasn't even her fault. I should be the one on my knees begging for forgiveness. I forced her to strip. Anakin got up and knelt before her. "Huh?! Anakin what are you doing?" She asked as she sat up. "I'm sorry. I was just so mad and so sad that I had lost Padme. I lost all human decency and forced you to strip. I'm sorry. I know that's not enough but I'm afraid that's all I have." Anakin's voice cracked. He was so ashamed of what he'd done.

Y/N felt bad. She knew he had done those things out of rage, but it doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt her. She reached for his arm and pulled him up. “It’s okay, I know you did them out of rage.” Anakin’s face lit up, he was so happy he could hug her, as he was about to, she opened her mouth. “But, can I ask you for a favor?” She asked. Anakin blankly looked at her. She panicked and spoke up “I’m sorry, never mind, I just-” “Hey, I didn’t even answer. What is your request?” Anakin grabbed onto her shoulders. “I was wondering if you could convince my father to let me finish my Master's?” She asked while looking at her lap. “I don't know if I could convince your Father” Y/N’s eyes started to get sad, “But I can convince my father to pay your college tuition and you can go secretly.” Y/N jumped up and into Anakin’s arms. He lost his balance so before he fell he pushed himself onto the bed. His cheek falling against her lips. “Oh damn, I smeared your lipstick.” “It’s fine.” Y/N started to giggle. “Thank you, Anakin,” she smiled so brightly and softly, but she was also crying, his heart fluttering. “Yea, no problem.” Anakin's voice sounded wistful, but Y/N didn’t hear it, she was too busy swimming in his clear blue eyes. “I never noticed,” Y/N whispered. Anakin hummed, asking her to continue. “Your eyes, they look like a lake.” she giggled. “They are pretty. If you looked up at the sun, your eyes would probably glitter like a real lake.” Anakin felt so flustered. No one ever complimented his eyes. Well, they had, but not in the way Y/N had. It was always nice eyes. You probably get all the chick with those eyes. “Thank you, your eyes are pretty too.” “Your E/C eyes lit up. “They get all bright and shimmery when you're excited about something. They get dull when you’re sad or frustrated. When you get embarrassed they glitter more than they’re supposed to.” Anakin started leaning in. The moment was shattered when they heard a commotion downstairs.

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Note:

My summer classes have started so I will begin to post on Mondays. Thank you for understanding.

#anakin x padme #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker smut #captain rex #stawars #anakin fluff #anakin angst #new fanfic #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka #star wars ahsoka

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