#something else about the person he loves getting caught in the crossfire of his anger | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grapementos · 3 years

Text

redamancy

(v.) the act of loving someone in return.

a/n: the final part of the cheating triology.

kirishima and midoriya’s part.

bakugo x gn reader

warnings: cheating, panic attack (kinda), suggestive, crying

pro-hero dynamight didn't have the best rep with the press, if his exhausted pr team was anything to go by. seldom were there headlines about him without outburst or, the media's favorite little play on words, explosive following suit.

then, suddenly, his brash behavior had stopped. it was so abrupt that no one even noticed at first.

once they did, the questions came flooding in. many of them were speculations of anger management classes or something of that nature. in the end, they were all denied until the big question came:

'are you in a relationship?'

it was confirmed, and the crowd went wild. within days there were tabloids of 'pro-hero dynamight's secret lover: who could it be?'

it was innocent at first; just plain curiosity about a public figure.

but then it got deeper. talk shows got psychologists to give professional insight as to how a relationship with someone like dynamight would be.

as expected, it wasn't positive. and soon enough, everyone on the internet was bashing dynamight for being dangerous or violent, specifically towards his lover, whom they knew nothing about.

you'd rub the tension out of his shoulders at the end of the day, reminding him that he was good, no matter what the media had to say. they didn't know him like you did.

your comfort and reassurance usually calmed him down and left him grumbling, "i didn't even care anyways."

so he took the criticism. and he took the bashing, the false speculation—and he kept moving forward.

that is, until someone thought it'd be fun to make a 'top ten pro-heroes who'd cheat' blog post that went absolutely viral. it reached every corner of the internet, even getting mentioned in the news as outraged heroes demanded the website be removed.

the number one spot, the one bakugo had yearned for, was his.

but not in the way he wanted.

being ranked most likely to cheat did a number on his behavior, both in public and private. he was more distant and less explosive, which somehow spurred the press on more.

they concluded that he cleaned up his act because the blog was right and he wanted to create a better image for himself. that wasn't true at all—he was just tired.

so tired, in fact, that he proved the rumors right.

denki was draped over your couch, watching some game show on tv when you found out. the two of you had planned to hang out for a bit and watch a movie at the cinema, but nothing good was showing, so you ultimately decided to head back to your place.

your shared place. with bakugo.

you assumed it was one of his late nights since he wasn't home, so you started cooking dinner, making small talk with denki.

"so you can go swimming, then?" you quirked a brow, poking your head into the living room.

"yeah, just as long as i don't activate my quirk, you know?" denki opened his mouth to explain further, but the front door messily slammed open, beating him to it.

and there he was. bakugo katsuki.

with someone else in his arms, his face nearly being eaten as they pushed back and forth against each other.

everything stopped the moment he made eye contact with you. the kissing stopped, your brain stopped—it even felt like the tv was muted.

even worse was that his eyes held no remorse. just a little surprise, like finding your old charger after buying a new one.

"thought you were hanging out with dunce face," his voice was gruff, low and sultry as his gazed burned into you with... impatience?

"katsuki, what're you.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to process the sight before you, "why're you.."

"didn't think you'd be back already." he shrugged, gaze shifting back to the person he was with. and only then did his brows relax, lips tugging up into a smile. "now, if you'll excuse us.."

he tried to walk past you, but you shoved his chest, "what the hell are you doing?" you nearly screamed, eyes red and burning with tears.

"haven't you heard the rumors, y/n? i'm a cheater. you don't need to be with someone like me."

you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, but even that couldn't overpower the utter devastation pooling all the way from your chest to your toes. oh, it hurt.

"kami," you whispered desperately once they were gone—in the room that you used to sleep in—head starting to swim, "kami, help me, please."

you didn't even know what you wanted him to help you with. you just wanted everything to stop.

he rushed to your side, finally snapping out of his shocked daze. his arms were around you in an instant, chin on top of your head, "you're okay, y/n, i'm here. it's okay."

you were shaking and sobbing into his shirt, grip tight on his unzipped jacket.

"it hurts. oh god, it hurts. kami, make it stop, please." you shuddered, and everything was suddenly too loud.

he held you tightly, letting you cry for what felt like hours.

and then he got you out of there.

BONUS:

the healing process was long and still incomplete. some days you still felt so empty, only able to complete the bare necessities to get through your day, but denki was by your side when he could be.

you'd since moved out of your shared home with bakugo and into a place of your own, which was a difficult adjustment. but with denki calling you twice a day—literally—you didn't have a chance to be lonely.

most nights he spent at your house, claiming it was because he loved your cooking.

you weren't dumb; denki flirted with you all the time. he was truly unashamed every time he greeted you with a 'hey, hottie', and bid you goodbye with a 'love you, sweetcheeks'.

it made you cringe, but it was denki, so you had to love him.

after a year of being closer than ever, he’d asked you on a date numerous times, receiving a playful 'no, you know i'm not ready for that.'

but, one time was special. one time was heartfelt and so genuine that you shed real tears. denki laid his heart bare for you, every ounce of emotions spilling out of him and onto your shirt.

"i know you're not ready, y/n, but i love you so much. i'll wait for you, i swear it!"

and after all those no's, you finally said yes.

i like to think that bakugo did it for you. obviously this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but he just.. kind of got so tired of being accused of something terrible. he became the monster they swore he was. and you got caught in the crossfire. also i bolded dynamight instead of bakugo because i feel like this focuses on that part of his persona. his hero-self got too wrapped up in the media. also! kirishima was originally gonna be the new lover, but i feel like it’d be too similar to the other bakugo one i wrote.

reblogs are appreciated.

468 notes · View notes

saintshigaraki · 3 years

Text

ONE DAY WE’LL REVEAL THE TRUTH (THAT ONE WILL DIE BEFORE HE GETS THERE)

title: youth by daughter

pairing: dabi x f!reader

words: 1.7k

excerpt: But what is rage, you’d ask him, if not one of the many faces of grief?

a/n: dabi my beloved (derogatory). this fic is my love letter to parentheses.

tags: angst, toxic relationships, explicit s*xual content, light choking, dabi is a bastard but he is a needy bastard

in case you’d rather read it on ao3!

MDNI

He’s just outside the door. He hasn’t made a sound, but you know he’s there. You can feel it; in your blood, in your bones, in your marrow.

(You’ve always been able to feel him, monstrous and cruel beneath your skin. An itch. An awful taunting itch. You’ve wanted him out since he first stuck his claws in you and buried himself deep, but he’s near impossible to shake. He won’t leave until he’s hollowed you out, until your flesh is no longer your own, until all that’s left of you is him. Until all that’s there, is what he believes there should be.

He’s a self-important bastard like that.)

When he finally decides to open the door, he does so with a slam. It would’ve made you jump if you hadn’t been so focused on the skyline. Tracing the buildings, looking for stars you know you won’t be able to see. They get swallowed up, this deep in the city. Drowned out by light.

(When you were a child, you didn’t quite understand how stars could vanish in the night. Weren’t they the brightest things in the universe? Burning and brilliant, even light years away?

You understand it better now. How mankind has this nasty habit of ruining, of polluting, of blotting out things of wonder and then desperately trying to remake it in our own image.

It’s never as beautiful as what was, but it’s far too late for us to admit defeat now.)

He’s mad, burning up with fury. You can feel the heat of it, cutting straight through the heavy chill of the night air. It’s stifling, your balcony so small that he’s practically breathing down your neck with how close he is. Accompanying his presence, always, is the faint smell of burnt flesh he can never quite mask, no matter the amount of cheap aftershave he tries to drown himself in.

He’d texted you, and you’d ignored him. For a week, you’ve ignored him and if there’s one thing Dabi hates, it’s when he gets ignored.

He’s the one that ignores you, it should never be the other way around.

You know that, of course. You know all his little unwritten rules.

(Don’t ignore him is at the top of the list. Except, of course, during those nights when he thinks you’re asleep and he clings to you like a child, his tears burning where they touch your skin. Even his grief, you can’t help but think, is scorching.

On those nights, you’ve found it’s best to stay quiet. He wields his grief like rage and you’d rather not be caught in the crossfire.)

He’s waiting for you to talk, to stumble over your words, make some sort of vague attempt at an apology. It’s what you would usually do after you’ve broken one of his rules.

But you say nothing, content to sit in the too-heavy silence. You’re tired. Of him. Of whatever it is you two have been doing. It’s the same stupid story, the same vicious cycle. A snake cursed to eat its own tail.

He’s using you. He has been for a long while now. If you’re being perfectly honest with yourself, he most likely has been since the beginning. And God, it’s exhausting work, being used.

Although, really, you’re not all that much better than he is. In the beginning, you were with him purely because he fascinated you. All his grief laid bare, and so vulnerable. So obvious and painful. Undeniable in its brutality.

(Rage, he’d say, it’s righteous rage, not grief.

But what is rage, you’d ask him, if not one of the many faces of grief?)

It didn’t take long for you to realize he’s chasing something. And it took you even less time to realize that whatever he’s after, is probably going to kill him one day.

(You wonder if he knows he’s chasing his own death. You wonder if he’d care at all.

He reminds you of Eve, eating the forbidden fruit. You think she’d take a bite of the apple, again and again and again if ever given the choice, even knowing the consequences. Even with intimate knowledge of the suffering to come. How could she not? How could any of us hold our fate in the palm of our hands and choose not to sink our teeth into it?)

He’s growing impatient beside you, burning up with it. If he touched you, you’re sure he’d melt your flesh straight to the hollow bone.

But you don’t break. Just once, you want him to fall apart first. Just once, you want him desperate.

(He’s always been so good at making you desperate, with a hand around your neck, just tight enough to leave you gasping for air, your back to his chest and his staples drawing blood, as he pounds into you so hard all you could do is dig your nails into his arm.

His lips are right by your ear, you’re mine, he says. You’re mine. You’re mine. You’re mine.

And God, with his cock hitting all the right spots in your cunt you’d believe it. You’d believe anything he’d said to you as long he just kept going.

Say it, he hisses, say you’re mine.

You don’t answer him right away, mostly because you can’t, not with the way he’s fucking you. You can’t catch your breath enough to form a sound, you can’t get your bearings enough to collect a single thought that isn’t Dabi Dabi Dabi.

Annoyed at your lack of answer, he brings a searing thumb down to your overstimulated clit. You keen, arching, desperately trying to get away from the sensation that at this point is more pain than pleasure.

Say it, he says again, there’s a strange sort of edge to it. Looking back you think it might’ve been desperation. Say it.

When he presses down just a little harder, you finally crack.

Yours, you gasp. I’m yours. Yours. Yours. Yours.

He laughs, so deep in his chest that you feel it in your own.

It echoes in your head for weeks afterward.)

“What,” he grounds out, low and furious, “the fuck.”

It’s not a question.

You turn towards him, at last. Though you can hardly see him, surrounded by shadows. There are glints of his piercings in the polluted light, a gleaming flash as he runs his tongue along with his teeth. But it’s his eyes that you lock on. Bright and a brilliant blue. Glowing and monstrous in the dark.

(You’re reminded, once again, of the stars. Burning and burning and burning.)

With no preamble, you say, “I think I love you.”

The air around you quiets. Like the city itself is holding it’s breath.

It’s not a sweet confession under the moonlight. In the week since you came to the realization, it’s already started to fester, to rot straight through your bones.

It’s a curse more than anything. You love a man whose chasing his own death. You love a ghost. Or, you suppose, a ghost in the making.

Before you can say anything else (though really, what else is there to say) he cuts in sharply, meanly, “No, you don’t.”

You can’t help but tilt your head at that. You don’t really know what to say. You don’t know if you’re supposed to say anything. His lips are pulled back, teeth bared, he’s gleaming and sharp, pulled so taught with tension you wonder how he’s even breathing. He reminds you, vividly, of a cornered animal. A scared one. Though he’s trying to mask it with annoyance, with a type of anger that toes the line of fury.

He’s always doing that. Masking his fear with rage. Masking his grief with rage. Hiding any part of himself that might be perceived as weak, as soft, as vulnerable, under the guise of rage.

You can’t imagine that it’s anything less than exhausting.

Though you have to admit, you didn’t expect this response. You didn’t expect fear. You thought he’d be unbearably smug about it. Proud of himself for finally sinking his teeth into your heart. Ready to chew you up and spit you back out. You were ready for him to move on.

You didn’t expect him to deny it.

(He could be right, though you doubt he is.

You wonder what it means to love, you wonder how you’re supposed to love. You wonder if you can only love someone if you’ve seen the cruelest parts of them first.

You suppose if that’s the case, then he might be right.

You’ve never actually been able to force yourself to look up what exactly he’s wanted for. What exactly it is he’s done.

Mostly because you’re afraid that even if you knew every last gory detail, it wouldn’t be enough to make you walk away. And how would you be able to look at yourself in the mirror, after that? Knowing exactly who you let share your bed? who cried scorching hot tears into your shoulder?

Ignorance is bliss, they say. In your case, it could very well be your only hope for salvation.

But, you don’t really think there’s a set way a person is supposed to love. It’s what makes it so terrifying. It’s an unknown. And it’s so hard to not fear the unknown.)

“Dabi-” you start.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he spits out. Eyes flashing, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

You want to laugh at the absurdity of it all, of him trying to tell you what you do and do not feel, but you think he’d turn you to ashes for the slight. His pride has always been so easily shaken.

“Dabi-” you try again.

But he’s two steps ahead of you. He always is.

He’s already turned around, hiding his face from view, opening the door. And you don’t stop him. You don’t see why you should.

You can’t shake him from the path he’s on. You don’t think anyone can, really.

Grief is all he has, it’s all he’s let himself have. It’s fundamental to him now. It’s all he is. And you’re sure he believes whatever he’s chasing is going to fill the hollow void it’s made of him.

It won’t. You’re sure of that, at least, because even if he does succeed, what will he be left with then?

You don’t say any of that to him, because you’re not his fucking therapist. And because you’re not so sure he wouldn’t kill you for it.

It’s anticlimactic, watching him disappear into your darkened apartment.

But all you can think about when you hear the click of the front door closing behind him is how honest his fear was, almost childlike. Remnants of a poor, grief-stricken boy.

What a monster it’s made of him.

a/n part two:

thinking about adrianne kalfopoulou’s ‘grief will keep you reaching back / for what is not there.’

i could not tell you why this took me over two weeks to write. i had a lot of fun with it though. dabi my beloved. go to therapy please. also i know dabi can’t cry but....let me have this.

#bnha x reader #dabi x reader #bnha smut #dabi smut #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #dabi imagine #bnha x you #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #bnha x y/n #bnha imagine #vicwrites #vicwritesbnha #vic.thirsts

858 notes · View notes

daisies-and-buttercups · 3 years

Text

“Love and War / Chapter II″ - Luca Changretta x reader

Summary: Waking up to an empty bed and the words that Luca left for you, you soon realise that everything is going to go down today, and you’ll soon have to pick a side.

A/N: I swear that this post took me at least three tries, tumblr kept deleting and/or messing up the formatting so I’m really hoping that this is worth it lol 💕

Words: 2.7k

Chapter I Chapter III

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The next morning you shifted in bed, stretching your arms in search of your lover’s body, but all you felt was the crumpling sheets, still warm from where his body was not too long ago. You groaned, sitting up and scanning the room, eyebrows scrunched into a tired look. If you had to guess what had happened the night before just by looking at your room you wouldn’t have had any clues. Your clothes were neatly folded by the chair and there was no other evidence that anything had indeed happened. No clothes abandoned on the floor, no man lying next to you.

You walked down the stairs almost second guessing yourself, thinking over the night's events while you prepared a cup of coffee that you so desperately craved. Taking a big sip your eyes landed on the small table by the door, only usually adorned by a small plate for your keys and some letters that you hadn’t gotten around to opening yet, now decorated by a beautiful bouquet. You never had flowers around, the item useless and expensive, not something that you could afford with your paycheque, but just with their presence they lit the room up, their delicate perfume filling your lungs. You smiled and walked up to them, lifting the small card up to read it. A simple phrase full of adoration and love, with a few words in Italian, made you blush at the love you felt, but the final sentence made your heart drop.

If today is kind with my soul, I shall meet you in your dreams tonight, mio amore.

His handwriting was smooth and elegant with each word, but the last sentence was slightly messy, revealing his feelings maybe more than he was used to. His fear. He didn’t think he’d make it back.

So today was the day.

You scurried over to the phone, picking it up and calling the Shelbys, hoping that someone, anyone, would answer, but no one did. There was no point in leaving the house, you wouldn’t know where to find them and you had no way of knowing where Luca was either. There were many places where this showdown could happen, and even if you found it, what were you going to do? You couldn’t just waltz in hoping not to get shot. Still, the mix of emotions in your chest made you dizzy. Why didn’t he say anything? You dreaded the images that flashed before your eyes, first that of Tommy’s lifeless body, still clutching his gun, then that of Luca, tumbling as a bullet hit him square in the chest. Tears fell as you pictured those scenarios, but knew that that was all they were. They weren’t real. But even knowing that, you couldn’t stop pacing around the room, counting the minutes and going over the events of the past few weeks. You didn’t know how to feel about this whole ordeal. You never forgot how Tommy and his family welcomed you when you had been left with nothing, giving you a job, food, inviting you over for drinks and celebrations, but as much as you dreamed of it, you’d never be part of them. You fit in, but not fully. You weren’t part of their circle, but you were part of their “clean” life. Tommy made sure to to leave you out of the dirty deeds, even if you gathered what happened behind closed doors, and by doing so he shut you out of the only part of their life that would make you fully fit in with them. Then Luca arrived, and the calls, on the phone that Thomas brought just for you, since you couldn’t afford one in any other way, started becoming less frequent, with less news. No more talking about the business, no more working by their side, no more gossiping with Ada or Polly on Saturday evenings. You still got your salary, somehow left by your door with nothing else attached to it, not even a note, but that didn’t change the stark difference in your routine. You barely felt like family, or whatever you had ended up being, anymore. You felt even more left out now. So when Luca came around and actually listened to you, and talked to you, and shared his interests while asking about yours, you felt appreciated, loved. You had found somewhere where you fitted. And now here you stood, weary of whose death you’d have to cry at the end of the day.

It took hours for the phone to ring with news, which made you jump into alertness, rushing over to answer. “Where is he?” You stayed quiet for a moment, fully expecting to hear Polly’s or Ada’s voice, not Tommy’s. He was alive, and clearly Polly had told him about your meeting with the Italian. “Where is-” “Where is he?” he raised his voice in unison to the loud sound you heard not far from him, probably his fist banging against the table. So they still were both alive. You let a breath out that you were unaware you had been holding, gripping your clothes tightly, adrenaline running in your veins from the news. He didn’t usually raise his voice, so his anger was evident, yet you weren’t sure if it was directed at you or at Luca. He clearly had gotten away, and the thought of that was enough to lift that weight off your chest. “I don’t know, Thomas.” “You knew last night, though, didn’t you? When he was in your bed? Bet it felt good, eh, fucking the enemy?” You didn’t answer, your face blushing in shame and anger. He had no right to spy into your personal life. You knew that in his books you were on the wrong side of the war they were fighting, but his words were harsh, cutting through you without any of the warmth they once held. “Don’t defend a fucking wop. Tell me.” “I don’t know where he is. But this has to end, Thomas, this war you’re-” “Why don’t you tell that to your friend?” He pronounced the last word with sarcasm and hatred, but what hurt him was the betrayal he felt when you made it clear that you cared about him. “I already did. I told him I support neither of your ways. Just stop, someone’s gonna get hurt.“ “And it would be a shame if you got caught in the crossfire.” he spat out, the silence ringing in your ears as if his threat were a slap. “Goodnight, Thomas.” You replied, slamming the phone down, not even sure if he was still there to hear you but not willing to argue anymore. You didn’t stop walking around the halls, hoping that someone else would tell you more about what actually went down, still in the dark, but no one did.

That night you laid in bed, thinking over everything that had happened, or at least what you knew. The fairytale routine you had fallen in with Luca, the fancy restaurants, chivalrous words and tender kisses were taken away from you so soon after they started, leaving you desperate for what you had started growing so used to. Had it not been for the vendetta, he’d probably be here next to you right now, drawing circles on your shoulders with his fingertips, kissing you softly. But he wasn’t here, and all you knew was that he must’ve been alive somehow, since Tommy had no idea as to where he could’ve been. Standing up you took a few steps towards the small balcony, desperate for some fresh air. There was barely enough space to stand on it so you leaned on the window frame, spotting someone moving away just as you glanced down towards the back street. Had you been in a less emotional state you’d have never chased after them, but right now all you wanted were answers. You turned the corner, losing your balance as you slammed into someone, but their hands held you up, pulling you against them. “You shouldn’t have come out here, principessa. You never know who might linger in the dark.” With your mouth agape you stood still for a moment, realising who was standing in front of you and finally wrapping your arms around him, colliding with his chest once more. He let out a low chuckle, melting into your embrace and holding you, feeling your heartbeat calm him down, a natural remedy that only you could provide. Your tears fell freely, wetting his coat while you shivered against him. “Well, lucky me then.” you joked, breathing in his scent, the notes of sandalwood surrounding you. “What happened?” “Nothing. The police got in the way.” he shrugged lightly, his hands still around your waist, pulling you against him. “Thomas was looking for you. He called me.” he nodded, looking around the street for any signs of someone spying on them, but no one was around at this time, but he didn’t care either way. “I’m leaving for Camden Town. I won’t be back for a few days, so you won’t see me for a bit.” “And what are you going to do in Camden Town?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. He wouldn’t stop, and there was only one man in London that had a strong connection to Tommy, and not always a good one. You had never met Alfie Solomons, but you knew enough about him to know where this was going. “Not important. I came to get a goodbye kiss.” his eyes crinkled as he smiled, lifting your chin with his fingers and finding his mouth, kissing you with an initial softness, growing into a hunger that he couldn’t afford right now. He groaned, breaking the kiss, resting his forehead to yours. “What are you planning, Luca?” “Goodnight, dear.” “It’s not gonna end well.” “Goodnight, dear.” He repeated, kissing your forehead and lingering for a moment more, before urging you to walk back home, waiting until you were out of sight to slip away, walking towards the car that would take him to London.

You spent days waiting for something, but there was nothing. No calls, no letters, no news. You picked a few books off your bookshelf, books you had never had the time to read, and scanned the pages, not managing to focus on more than a few pages. It was that dark feeling in your chest that you couldn’t ignore, and the lack of news only made it worse, feeding your mind with the most horrible scenarios. It felt like a blessing, if only for a short moment, when a call arrived shortly after dinner. You were resting your head on the sofa, singing along to some old songs while you stared at your hands, the concept of time slowly slipping away, when you received the news, making you sit up in disbelief. Polly had been brief, delivering the news and nothing more, leaving you clutching your telephone and staring into thin air for what felt like hours. She hadn’t said anything more, leaving you with the feelings that surrounded you. Sadness, rage, hopelessness… everything was bubbling in your chest, a feeling of guilt coating everything, making you feel like you were somehow at fault here, like you hadn’t prevented this. You paced around for most of the night, only pausing your wondering when the realisation hit you again, big tears slipping past your eyes as you recalled the memories of the times shared, stopping your incessant actions at the faint knock at the door early in the morning. “I saw your light on.” he looked behind you, his lips twitching up for a short moment, only to fall back into a stoic look when he met your gaze, clearly seeing the tears that you tried to wipe away before opening the door, your eyes red with sadness and rage. “Tell me you didn’t.” It was a whisper, one that made his heart break. It wasn’t just your expression, nor the redness under your eyes, but your moving away from the door, as if you feared him. “Alfie Solomons-” he started, willing to offer an explanation for his deeds. “I don’t care about Alfie! I asked you to stop this after the vendetta happened!” you shouted, getting closer just to throw punches at his chest, yet no matter your anger you were nothing but gentle, barely making him flinch. “He didn’t stop either.” “Because he’s stubborn. He’s-” “I am too. He killed my men. Just ‘cause you were closer to Arthur doesn’t mean that the death of my men means nothing.” “I don’t want to be part of this anymore.” you announced, slipping from his grasp and moving away, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. “You never were a part of this.” “Maybe not, but with how things are going I’m going to end up as collateral damage.” “You know I’d never let anything happen to you. Even if you stood by him, I wouldn’t-” You turned and walked up the stairs, ignoring his words and grabbing your traveling bag from the wardrobe as he made his way up, scoffing but following you into the bedroom nonetherless. You picked your clothes and folded them quickly, placing them in the bag and throwing a couple other belongings in. “What are you doing?” He asked, sitting on your bed and stopping your movements by holding your hips, his touch delicate, in harsh contrast with his look. He always felt so… different around you. Delicate, careful, loving. Little things, like the way he remembered what wine you liked, or some of your little quirks, or the softness of his touches when he was near you. After the night where you both fell into your bed, he’d become more open with showing his affection, but before that he never really shied away from it either. His hand gently cradling the small of your back when guiding you into a restaurant, or the brush of his fingers against your cheek when a stray hair got away from behind your ear. “I’m ending it tomorrow.” He announced, avoiding your gaze. “What?” You turned to face him, not fully understanding his plan of attack. “I called a meeting with Thomas.” “To apologise?” “To make a deal.” He corrected you. “But it might not work. So…” He took one of his rings off, holding your hand and placing it in your palm, closing it around it. “To remember me by. Or not. Maybe it’s better to forget me, after all.” He brought your hand to your lips, as if to seal a deal, smiling. “I won’t have to remember you. You’re not going.” Your hand on his arm was supposed to stop him, or slow him down at least, but he just smiled at you as you would with a child that doesn’t fully understand the state the world is in. “I have to finish what I started.” “Luca, don’t.” you tried to give it back, but he shook his head, moving away from you and down the stairs. “Arthur didn’t deserve it.” “He’s the one that pulled the trigger.” You didn’t speak, not knowing what to add. You knew he was referring to the death of his father, but what Arthur had done was almost out of mercy. Tommy wouldn’t have stopped, so he intervened. There were many mistakes he had made in his life, but dying because of an act of mercy wasn’t what he deserved. “Ti amo, bedda mia.” And with a final look he left, not waiting for an answer, exhaling when the door closed behind him. He saw the way you looked at him, the tears that escaped your eyes, feeling betrayed by his actions, but he did what he had to do. “Luca, we’re not finished talking.” Your words had no effect on the man, just like you knew they wouldn’t, but you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking them. It wasn’t only grief that was holding you back now, but fear. For a moment you saw the man just as he had been painted since the beginning: a gangster, a killer, nothing more but a heartless man. You fell back against the wall, clinging on to the ring he had gifted you, the only thing that felt certain right now. You watched as he stepped out, closing the door behind him ever so gently, to avoid making noise, and wondered what hid behind those eyes. How much could you risk for him?

He could feel you looking at him as he made his way out, knowing just how disappointed you were, but he wouldn’t back down. He knew what was going to go down tomorrow, what he’d say, how he'd move, and he’d do anything to have you by his side.

After all, all is fair in love and war.

#luca changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #luca changretta #luca changretta imagine #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders #love and war fic #Liza's attempts at writing

234 notes · View notes

leviackermansbrat · 3 years

Note

hii :) how about a little request of levi x reader where they are both in love with each other but havent really ever acted upon it much and one day the reader gets badly hurt and almost dies, while their recovering levi realizes how close he was to losing them and they finally confess their love and be together (hope this is ok!)

Unexpectedly Expected

tw: mentions of injuries, near death experiences, blood

side note: this takes place during the expedition where the female titan is captured and then escapes. So SPOILER WARNING FOR LATER ON IN SEASON 2 (I also know it's not winter during that episode but for the sake of the scenario let's pretend it is)

The air was cold. Winter within the walls was dreadful for the survey corps. Fighting for humanity was never a part time job, which meant that whatever mother nature had in store for the soldiers had to be taken in stride. No amount of sleet, hail, or snow stopped the scouts from exterminating titans and venturing outside the walls to do so.

"Have you checked your gear brat?" Levi asked with a stoic gaze as he looked cadet Y/N up and down. They beamed brightly at Levi as they nodded their head and gave him a thumbs up.

Levi rolled his eyes at Y/N's enthusiasm, but on the inside he felt his heart warm just a bit. He had always admired the cadet. Their bravery and compassion never ceasing to amaze him. Skill wise, they were almost on par with him which is why he chose them as his second in command for the Special Operations Squad, also known as Squad Levi.

It was an understatement to say that Levi was infatuated with you. He had known cadet L/N since he was first forced to join the Survey Corps. They stuck up for him when Flagon was being a jerk on the day of their arrival. Since then he found Y/N tolerable and eventually began to grow fond of them. However those small feelings that he had became even more intense after Y/N became his shoulder to cry on after Isabel and Furlan died. Since then they have depended on each other and climbed the ranks.

Despite Y/N being in the Survey Corps longer than Levi, they refused to take a higher position when Erwin asked them to become squad leader. Instead they stuck by Levi's side and became content with being his second in command.

Y/N's feelings for Levi were obvious to everyone in the Survey Corps except for Levi. Hell, even the new recruits of the 104th cadets asked if there was something between them and the stoic captain because of the obvious infatuation and pining. Not only is Y/N scared to make a move because of the obvious fear of rejection, but they also fear that they could potentially ruin things between the two of them if they were to add feelings to the equation.

"Make sure to come back alive Y/N," Levi remarked as his hands tightened on the reigns of his horse.

"Only if you do the same Levi," Y/N responded with a cheeky grin.

Once again, Levi rolled his eyes. The yell from Erwin broke him out of his thoughts as they began to ride off beyond the walls.

*skip to after the female titan was captured because I'm lazy*

"Y/N, you're in charge while I'm gone. Take care of my horse. Make sure you get the brat back to headquarters safely. And if shit goes south protect Jaeger," Levi ordered, zipping away before Y/N had the chance to respond.

"You heard the man, I'm in charge. Let's secure our horses in a safe position and get to higher ground just in case random titans come wandering into the forest before the mission is complete," Y/N ordered.

The other squadmates were obviously upset and hurt. They had no idea why they were left in the dark when the plan was to capture the female titan all along.

"I mean new recruits aside, why didn't they tell the survey corps veterans like all of you? The only people who knew were captain Levi and Y/N," Eren asked, looking around.

Y/N cringed at Eren's realization which was partly true but not completely. Y/N was against not telling the entire squad about the plan but the Commander and Levi insisted it was best to keep it under wraps.

"Are you implying that we aren't trusted by the Lance Corporal and Commander? Tell him that's not true Y/N!" Petra yelled, looking at Y/N for confirmation.

"Look, it's not that we don't trust you guys at all. However, there is a traitor in the survey corps," Y/N began to explain.

That would explain why we were kept in the dark about all of this. So you, being a survivor of the attack five years ago were informed about this since it's likely that the perpetrator infiltrated during the fall of Shiganshina?" Eld asked, looking directly at Y/N.

Y/N smiled at Eld's understanding and thought about how he would make a great squad leader. He was dependable and kind, something the survey corps needed. Y/N nodded at Eld's conclusion and a wave of relief passed through the Levi Squad. Although they were upset that they were under suspicion, they knew that it was an extremely important thing to keep under wraps.

Suddenly, a loud roar was heard and the ground began to shake. A retreat flare signal was fired soon after and the Levi Squad looked at each other with wide eyes.

Y/N's attempt at a smile turned into a grimace. They had a bad feeling about this. There was a nagging feeling that something would go wrong. Quickly shaking off the bad feeling, they ordered the squad to retreat.

Was Levi okay? Is he injured? No, he wouldn't be. He wasn't humanity's strongest for no reason. Whatever situation he found himself in, he would surely be able to figure it out and come back safely. After all, they had a deal.

Small talk about the first expeditions rang through the air, but Y/N couldn't bring herself to participate in the light hearted conversation. They knew something was wrong. A flare signal was spotted which meant that Levi was nearby. Y/N saw a hooded figure and immediately knew something was off. They were way too tall to be Levi and all of a sudden their eyes widened.

The titan shifter had most likely escaped. This was the bad feeling they were having.

"Gunther look out!" Y/N yelled but it was too late.

Gunther was hanging from a tree, his body limp and unresponsive in the blink of an eye.

"Guys! It's the female titan! Retreat back to headquarters with Eren. I'll apprehend them!" Y/N yelled to the group.

Y/N was more than capable of handling the female titan. Their speed and strength was second to Levi. It would be no problem taking the shifter down, however before Y/N could pull out their blades, a strike of lightning flashed before them and they were blown away on impact, being way too close to the female titan when she decided to shift.

Y/N flew through the air and only stopped after they hit a tree, the wind being knocked out of them and their head being hit against the tree. They felt a sting in their abdomen and looked down to where their own sword impaled them, having been caught in the crossfire after attempting to ready to battle the female titan. Somehow the blade impaled them while they were flying through the air.

Y/N tried their best to stay awake, but their vision was blurred and they were slowly losing consciousness. A tear slipped from their eye as they realized they were going to die. Y/N wasn't scared of death, but they didn't want to leave Levi alone again. To put him through the pain of losing someone else that was close to him. But Y/N couldn't fight it anymore and their eyes slowly closed, darkness engulfing them.

Levi zipped through the trees, following the explosion he had seen earlier. The female titan had slipped right through their fingertips and he was more worried than ever. Was his squad okay? Of course they were. Y/N could handle the female titan without a problem. But still, he had a lingering bad feeling.

His breath caught in his throat after seeing the mangled bodies of his squad mates. Gunther, Eld, Oulo, and Petra all dead. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed Y/N and Eren were missing. Did they make it back to headquarters? Were they safe? No. A roar erupted in the air signaling that the fight was not over.

Levi soared through the air, anger coursing through his veins for his fallen comrades. He was going to avenge them and take down the female titan.

After retrieving Eren from the female titan, Levi felt empty. There were no signs of Y/N. Almost as if they had vanished. He expected them to be near Eren and fighting the female titan, but that was not the case. Eren was not conscious so he couldn't even ask what had happened to her. Levi was left to assume the worst.

It wasn't until Levi spotted a familiar figure slumped against a tree that he abruptly stopped and told the other Ackerman to continue until they met up with the rest of the Scouts.

Levi was relieved, finally being able to spot Y/N, but that relief turned to dread after he saw the state of Y/N's body. They were slumped against the tree with a blade piercing their abdomen. Levi rushed over to them to check their pulse, cursing the universe for even thinking about taking away another person that he cared for.

He was relieved to find that Y/N's pulse was still there, although in the back of his mind he knew there was no way they could survive after losing that much blood and having other injuries.

"L-Levi," Y/N called, their voice raspy.

They slowly opened their eyes to meet Levi's steely grey ones. This was one of the only times aside from after Isabel and Furlan died where he expressed so much emotion on his face.

"Don't talk you brat, you're just going to make it worse. I'm going to take you back and get you patched up. Just hang on for me a little while longer," Levi said, preparing to carry Y/N back even though his ankle was killing him at the moment.

Y/N chuckled bitterly, blood escaping her lips as she coughed a little.

"You know I'm not going to make it back Levi. This is the end for me," Y/N said, giving Levi a sad smile.

"Stop talking like that. You're not allowed to die on me. That's an order you idiot," Levi commanded, his voice wavering.

"I'm sorry. But I'm glad I got to be by your side for this long. Loving you is something I will never regret," Y/N responded, smiling sadly at Levi.

His eyes widened as he looked down at his second in command, his best friend, the person he would give his entire heart to in a flash. Levi leaned in slowly and planted a kiss on Y/N's lips, the salty taste of their tears interfering. Levi pulled away to look at the smile on their face and found himself smiling as well.

"I love you, Y/N. That's why I'm not letting you die," Levi said, taking Y/N into his arms.

He soared through the forest carrying Y/N, looking down to find their eyes closed. He was too scared to check their pulse in fear that they might already be dead.

Just stay with me a little longer. Don't leave me behind.

*time skip*

"So you love me huh Levi?" Y/N asked, giving Levi a goofy grin.

After the expedition Levi rushed back and Y/N made it by the skin of their teeth. Hange even said it was a miracle that they lived with all of the blood loss and other injuries.

"Shut up brat. Don't make me take it back," Levi responded, rolling his eyes.

During Y/N's recovery he rarely left their side. Hange realized that he might have finally confessed his feelings and teased him endlessly.

"Aww, don't be so harsh. I love you too Levi," Y/N said, giving Levi a quick kiss on his cheek before dashing off to chat with Hange about her latest experiments.

Levi watched their retreating form and smiled slightly to himself. Yeah, he loved them. And that's something he would never regret.

Hope you enjoyed! Writing this was wild lol.

387 notes · View notes

neighborhoodparker · 3 years

Text

Panacea [0]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Word count: 1,635

Warnings: Mentions of triggering/tough topics - such as abuse, racism, sexual coercion, and overall just toxic relationships. This is a general warning that will accompany every part of this little series.

Summary: The one where you are given an introduction to your story.

Taglist: @sydneekomspacekru

(shitty) short introduction | part 1 | part 2

Roane County in Indiana, otherwise known as Hawkins, was supposed to be your new beginning. It was your way of starting over - of leaving behind your deadbeat father and your dead mother, of purging yourself of the sins of your family. Indiana was a huge change, especially in climate, when it came to your place of origin in middle-of-nowhere Arizona. Admittedly, it took you a while to get used to the colder temperatures - but you did what you’ve always done; you adapted. This was a skill you had to learn from a young age, especially with how poisonous your relationship was with your father. And, thankfully, your adaptive nature enabled you to quietly slip into the social structure that made up Hawkins's High - your extroverted, friendly nature helped as well, gaining you quick traction among the clichés of popularity. It was with ease that you blended in among those in town that held good names; after all, your mother had lived here for the first seventeen years of her life. Even though she had chosen to leave Hawkins all those years ago, you were welcomed back with open arms - and it was like you had lived your entire life within the small square footage that made up the strange town. You have to suppose that a town of this magnitude never truly forgets who it marks as its own.

And, well, it didn’t take long for Hawkins to mark you as one of its own. The ease you had with moving there seemed to infiltrate every aspect of your life. You got good grades - A’s on practically every assignment, quiz, and test, got along well with the teachers and the students, had no difficulties finding a job at the local diner, and you even hit the jackpot with a bewitching significant other. At least, that last part is what every girl in your friend group told you. Now, Billy Hargrove was - in and of himself - a conundrum, to say the least. This was something you had figured out quickly about him; right after he had decided that your welcome to the town from him was his shirtless body hefting your heavy boxes into your new apartment. Before promptly deciding to spend the rest of the evening in the local diner with you, flirting more than you had ever seen a teenage boy do. In a way, you were still set apart from the others. Because you saw behind his façade; you saw behind the flirtation and sex appeal. There was a brokenness that you had only ever seen in one other place, and that was in the eyes that stared back at you when you looked in a mirror. The life he had at home wasn’t good - and your suspicions were confirmed the first night his younger step-sister had showed up to your apartment with him sprawled out in the backseat of his Camaro, with wounds that only could have been inflicted by a man in a drunken rage.

His sister, Max, was another person you had quickly formed a bond with. That night, when she brought Billy to you because she had no other place to take him, she found out just how far your generosity could spread. From that moment forward, after you had patched up the wounds on a moaning Billy, your apartment became a safe haven for the two of them - especially for Max. Every time their house gets too loud or too violent, Max finds her own way to you; a frequent occurrence that caused you to give her your spare key. Unfortunately, though, Billy’s conundrum of an existence only grew bigger after the night you patched him up. Even though you were supposed to be his nepenthe - the one thing that takes away all his pain and sorrows, the one thing that helped him heal - he refused to admit that you did anything to help him. In his mind, it was a weakness he couldn’t afford and - frankly - that never happened. Honestly, you see more of Max these days than you do of Billy. And you’re naïve about it. You think that just because you’re helping Max that you’re helping Billy; you believe that he’s embarrassed and doesn’t want you to be pulled into his horrific domestic life.

You’re naïve because you think you can fix him. You see the broken parts, the fragmented sides of this unhealed child that’s become your boyfriend - and you think that if you give him enough time, enough patience, that he’ll come forward, that he’ll let you help. But he won’t. Because, frankly, Billy Hargrove is past saving. He’s headed down a dark path and you’re only going to be caught in the crossfires. But you don’t know that; not consciously, anyways. He’s never laid a hand on you, so you think that things are okay. You don’t understand that it’s not okay that he doesn’t show up, that he yells at you when he gets mad and doesn’t talk about it after. You think that this is just his way of coping - that it’s different from what you did when you were with your father. And what makes your naivety even worse is that you swore you would never end up in a relationship like your mother. You watched, physical altercation after physical altercation, as your mother became more beaten and more bruised - and you swore, you promised, you vowed, that you wouldn’t become your mother. You broke that. Because you didn’t know that your parents started out the same way that you and Billy did. And as hard as it is to take it in, you are just as doomed as your mother was. You don’t have enough love to spare to put him back together again. But love isn’t what can fix him. Nothing can patch a boy together when he has crevices as empty and deep as Billy.

And this doesn’t begin to touch the things that he does with you that you know are wrong. He’s a very high-driven, sexual person - and this is something that you found out decently quickly once you officially got together. It never mattered if you were in the mood for it or not, you were too focused on trying to meet his needs when he finally told you about them that you didn’t realize just how bad coercion is. You think that you have it good because everyone else is jealous of the intimacy you have with him. You don’t realize that his coercion, his guilt-tripping to get you to please him is just assault. And even though he gets aggressive when you’re in bed, when he bruises you because you’re not doing something the way he likes, you don’t see the red flags. Deep down, you know that the way he treats you is wrong - but he’s never laid a hand on you outside of your private time together, so you think it’s okay. You think what you have is love and that it’ll get better once you get him out of his toxic household, but that’s not true. The abuse he experiences is so profoundly engrained in who he is that the toxicity will only follow him once he leaves. He might get out of the house, might leave behind his asshole of a father, but he is another victim that will fall into the idiom of the apple not falling far from the tree.

That’s just another way in which you and Billy are more similar than most people think. He’s turning out to be just like his father - and you’re heading down the same path that your own mother did; despite all your best attempts to pledge to her gravestone that you’ll be different. Your childhood was spent watching an abusive relationship pave itself; your father was always under the influence of something, whether alcohol or drugs, and it ignited an anger in him that could only be taken out in physical ways on your mother. You spent enough nights hiding in your closet with your blanket and pillow, trying to get away from the sounds of your mother begging and pleading, that you’d think you would know to get out of whatever you have going on with Billy. And one thing that makes you less similar to him, that sets you apart, is how you both coped with the abuse you’ve seen in your homes. You turned to books and school, delving into every interest and hobby that popped up as you grew. You found friends and a way out of the house and hyper-focused on how you would one day get out. But Billy, he turned to other things - like cigarettes and working out and blaring loud music. He found hookups and hyper-focused on how he was one day going to get back at his dad for all the pain, all the suffering, the man had caused him. Perhaps, in a way, you were two opposing sides of a coin - and maybe that was just another thing that added to your naivety about your relationship with him.

You watched as your father, day after wretched day, slowly killed your mother. You watched as she dug her own grave, watched as your father finally - after years of her surviving - put her six feet in the ground. And Max, the girl who’s practically become your own little sister, the girl who would do just about anything to see you get away from her older step-brother, is determined to save you. The way she sees it, your fate is now in her hands - and it’s not something that she, or her “baby-sitter”, will take lightly.

#steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x reader #steve x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #panacea #stranger things #stranger things imagine #neighborhoodparker

70 notes · View notes

disgruntledspacedad · 3 years

Text

The Rules of Engagement (3/5)

The Better Love Series

pairing: Javier Peña x fem!reader/ofc (Ears)

summary: (slow-burn, sexual tension, angst, a little bit of h/c in later chapters) He’s a DEA agent. You work for Centra Spike. Peña’s not your boss, exactly, but you’ve been fwb long enough that certain people are starting to think of you as An Item, and that just won’t do.

words: 3.4k

warnings: 18+ for alcohol, language, smut, violence, body horror, general trauma. Please, please heed the warnings on this chapter, guys. It gets pretty intense.

a/n: Unbeta’d. I know I said this was going to be three chapters, but I lied. Sorry, my dudes - this one got away from me. Inspo credit goes to @tiffdawg, as always.

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

MASTERLIST

Well, fuck. You bite back a massive sigh.

You really, really don’t want to walk through that door.

It’s been a month, and you life has changed profoundly.

For one, you’re not at the office as much anymore - Stechner had made good on his promise to consider you for more flyovers, and boy, has Centra Spike been busy. Some new vigilante group is terrorizing Medellín, and while it’s not Search Bloc’s priority to go after them, they’ve undeniably kept Pablo and his sicarios busy. The radio frequencies are hot right now, and you’ve been doing eight, sometimes ten flights a week.

You absolutely love it. The hours are less predictable and definitely more shitty, but listening to a radio from the cockpit of a plane is much more fun that listening to a radio in a stuffy basement office, so you consider it a fair trade.

It keeps your brain busy, too.

Your social life has taken a massive kick to the nuts. Ana is back at university, and you miss her more than you thought you would. You’ve reverted to communicating with Emilio with gestures and smiles more than words. It’s nice because he’s nice, but you miss actual conversation, stilted as it was. Ana wasn’t all that bad, either.

And then there’s Javi.

You haven’t spoken to him since That Morning, not even a polite 'how are you?' in the hallway. Granted, you’re not seeing him as often anymore, given your new position and hours, but then again, you haven’t exactly sought him out, either.

The memory claws at you every time you relive it - and you relive it often. That anger, that wounded expression. The slammed door, his retreating footsteps. Each time you’re in that building, the walls seem to close in on you, and you have to stop yourself from looking for him, actively keep your gaze from roaming straight to his desk.

God, as if you could make it more awkward.

You’d had one nasty conversation with Murphy about a week after the incident - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that he could either mind his own business or fuck right off, you didn’t care which. He’d left you be, throwing his hands in the air and muttering something about how “you two deserve each other.”

Asshole.

Still, that aborted conversation haunts you - so many aborted conversations haunt you - and you wonder what would have happened if you’d just taken the bull by the horns and addressed the issue with Javi head on.

I’m sorry you caught me rubbing one off on the morning after you almost died, Peña. I can assure you, it won’t happen again. Your friendship means the world to me.

Yeah, right.

God, though, but you miss him.

You miss him so much it aches, a gaping hole that reaches right down to the core of you, but there’s nothing to be done about it. You’d fucked this one completely and thoroughly - any chance of restoring your friendship had drained away with the shower-water, and the more time you spend fretting over it, the more awkward - and pathetic - it would be to say anything.

So, you’d cut your losses, held your head high, and tried not to waste too much time wishing you’d have just kept your fucking fantasies to yourself.

Now, though, you’ve got no choice.

You’d been on Centra Spike’s early morning flight, just another routine scan over Medellín. The shift wasn’t intended to be more than a training run for you, but as luck would have it, the Medellín cartel’d had a busy night, and you’d been caught in the crossfire.

Your plane had just touched down half an hour ago, and now you’re standing on the front steps of the embassy building, fingering a shoebox cassette player loaded with a freshly taped recording full of juicy intel destined for the desk of DEA Agent Javier Peña - an entire, private conversation featuring none other than Verdugo himself.

You’d know that voice anywhere. You’ve studied it for hours, what few snatches you’d been able to glean from the embassy archives. It’s almost as if Verdugo is smart enough to steer clear of the city, or to just avoid phone conversations all together, the absolute fuckwad.

Until early this morning.

On the plane, you’d intercepted a new signal and tapped in on a whim, intending to practice your Spanish more than anything, but what you’d overheard was a fucking gold mine of information.

Verdugo is in Medellín. The sicarios are getting ready to move Escobar. He didn’t say where - fucking bastard knows not to spill all of the beans in one conversation - but apparently the plan requires a rendezvous in El Centro first. Verdugo is en route, and will be there until the next morning.

You’d worked frantically all night, tracing and retracing the signal, triangulating potential addresses, then back-tracking to account for environmental distortion. Each calculation had led you to the same place - an unassuming little house right smack in the middle of Medellín.

Bingo.

“You take it in, Aarons.” Torres had declined your offer to do the honors. “It’s your intel.”

So here you are, bleary-eyed and running on less than two hours of sleep, cassette player clenched tightly to your chest, summoning up all of your courage just to go speak with your ex... well, ex whatever-the-fuck Peña is.

‘This is your job,’ you remind yourself fiercely. ‘You can do this.’

As pep-talks go, it isn’t very effective.

Fuck it. You toss your head back, wishing you’d had time to at least grab a cup of coffee on the way in, and breeze around the corner.

“Agent Peña.”

He glances up lazily, thoroughly uninterested in whatever you have to say. When he realizes it’s you, he blinks once, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray and sitting up to eyeball you with a wary expression.

"What can I do for you?” he asks cooly.

You remember him saying that once before, but the context was totally different.

You shake it off. “Centra Spike has new intel that you’ll want to see right away.”

He purses his lips, tilting his head to indicate the growing pile of bullshit on his desk. “You can leave it here.”

Oh, so that’s how it is, then?

“I can’t.” You pin him with a stare, and he meets your gaze evenly, raising his eyebrows in silent challenge. You clear your throat and clarify. “I won’t.”

He scoffs as you carefully rest cassette tape on his desk, along with a map of El Centro. “We intercepted a four minute conversation with Verdugo this morning. He’s here.” You point to the safe house on the map, which you’ve already circled in red ink. “Feo and Limón are with him. They’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Peña frowns down at the spot where your finger rests. “And can you corroborate that information?”

Oh, the motherfucker. “I verified his voice personally, Peña,” you say carefully, doing your damndest to keep the annoyance from your tone. It’s well within his right to ask questions, after all. “It’s a direct match for the audio samples we have.” You tap the tape for emphasis. “You’re welcome to listen for yourself.”

He doesn’t make a move for a long time. Something hot and painful burns in your gut as you wait.

God, he knows you, knows you better than anybody else in on this goddamned continent. He knows that you know your shit, that you want to catch Escobar as desperately as he does. And this evidence that you have spread across his desk, recorded on tape and marked plainly in red ink, is irrefutable, undeniable - it’s a huge break. He knows that, too.

His apathy is palpable, and it’s driving you up the fucking wall.

When he finally glances up at you, it’s with a doubtful little smirk on his face. “Hmm.”

And oh, wow, you’re shocked by just how much that hurts.

All your life, from the moment you were born into a family of brothers, you’ve had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously. It was a fact of life as early as you can remember - ‘look after your sister,’ or, ’she’s just a girl,’ or ‘wow, you’re really great at math, for a woman!’ You’d settled on your career as an analyst because you’d wanted it, not because you’d had something to prove, but still, the military is a male-dominated field, and from the start, the odds had been stacked against you. Landing this CIA gig had been the achievement of a fucking lifetime. Still, the bar is set high in the Colombia, and it’s set that much higher for a woman. You’re well aware of this; you’re reminded every single day.

Point being, you’re used to defending yourself and your abilities; it comes as natural as breathing.

But until now, you’ve never had to fight this battle with Peña. He’d taken you at face value from the moment he'd laid eyes on you, treating you like just another operative. Sure, he might take a crack at you every now and again, but that's all in good fun, and you’ve never been one to shy away from a laugh.

Christ, you never realized just how much that respect meant to you until suddenly, it’s gone.

“If you have something to say about my skills and qualifications, Agent Peña, then I suggest you say it.” You lean over his desk, speaking quietly, enunciating each syllable with deadly precision. “Otherwise, I think we both know that it’s in the best interest of Search Bloc and the Colombian people that we collaborate quickly, so we can put boots on the ground and land this motherfucker behind bars where he belongs.”

Peña’s eyes narrow, and he cocks his head, studying you. You meet his gaze, biting back a snarl. You won’t back down. You won’t allow him to intimidate you.

When he nods sharply and reaches for his phone, you know you’ve won.

♠

Ten minutes later, you’re situated in a conference room with Peña, Steve Murphy, Martinez, and a couple of the other higher ups of Search Bloc whose names you haven’t memorized. Your maps are spread over the table, your tape displayed for all to see, and every eye is on you.

“Verdugo is here,” you say, leaning over the map to indicate the marked house. “He and his entourage arrived late last night, and they’re planning to leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Plenty of time to get a team together.” Murphy interjects, glancing between you and Peña with open curiosity.

You narrow your gaze at him. Drama-mongering bastard.

Peña’s not moving. He’s standing with his hip cocked toward the desk, frowning down at the map with his fingers curled to his chin like he’s totally oblivious to everything happening around him.

You know he’s not, though. That’s Javi’s thinking face, the one he makes when he wants people to shut the fuck up and forget about him until he can work something out. You’re pretty familiar with that one.

The others are babbling in Spanish, discussing logistics and the likelihood of this being another trap.

It’s not. You know this deep in your bones. You’d heard that conversation in real time, had translated, triangulated it.

This is legit.

You’ve just decided to leave them to it when Javi snaps his eyes open.

“I agree with Aarons,” he announces out of nowhere. You’re startled by the confidence in his tone. Curious, you glance up, but it’s difficult to get a read on him. He’s pinning every person in the room except you with a hard stare. “We need to move out now.”

Several of the others make noises of protest, but Peña shuts them all down, one by one. Finally, his eyes flicker up to meet yours, just for a brief second, but there’s something different in his gaze, something new and heavily guarded.

You think it might be an apology.

“Let’s end this.”

♠

He’s on a plane to Medellín within an hour, wearing that stupid bullet proof vest. For just a split second, you wish that you were going, too. You don’t have enough experience, though - you’re not an agent; you haven’t handled a gun since basic. You’d be useless in a real fight, a liability, even.

Still, you feel some ownership in this operation, today more than ever. You don’t even try to kid yourself about Javi anymore, either. Those fucking feelings haven’t faded in a month, not a bit, not even after the awkward conversation you’d had in his office.

‘But he stood up for you, too, afterward,’ something whispers in the back of your mind. You replay that little glance in the conference room over and over as you watch Search Bloc board the plane.

He’s looking for you this time, standing on the ramp with his eyes shaded like he knows you’ll be waiting. He doesn’t nod and you don’t wave, but you make eye contact for a lingering moment, and again, there’s something in his expression that you don’t recognize.

Then the plane takes off down the runway, and you feel as if your heart is swooping away with it.

♠

You volunteer for the late shift at work, monitoring the radio lines in case something comes up. It’s an unusually quiet night, as if all of Bogotá collectively holds its breath, and you mostly spend it watching the clock, calculating the hours in your head.

One to land in Medellín. Two more to mobilize the men. Another half to get in location.

From there, your speculation gets fuzzy. There’s no way to predict the outcome once Verdugo is engaged. Javi’s told you a million stories, each more unbelievable than the last - car chases and rooftop shootouts, standoffs in the street, a fistfight in a church sanctuary, bodies of children littering dark alleyways… you cut off the recollections. They aren’t doing you any favors.

Verdugo is a dangerous man. Anything could happen.

By seven am, your brain is mush and your eyes are hyper-focused in that bleary way that happens when you’ve gone too long without sleep. Your third cup of coffee has gone cold, and people are starting to trickle in. You wave half-heartedly to Torres as you slip out of your headset, rubbing your fingers over your scalp to ease the tension that comes from wearing heavy earphones all night. A shower sounds nice, you decide, and maybe a quick nap afterward.

Somebody will page you with news.

Getting out of the building does a lot to wake you up. There’s something oppressive about the CNP headquarters that seems to abate when you step into the streets of Bogotá. The city buzzes with life even in the early morning, and air is warm in a way that seems to energize rather than sedate. Optimism is easier to invoke as you walk down the street in broad daylight.

Javi had looked at you, at least. He’d listened. He’ll call in to the office as soon as he can. Your intel was good, and they’ve flushed out the rat, he’d promised you that.

Everything will be okay.

You round the corner of CRA 70 and Circular, waving to Emilio, who is working the register of the pharmacy today.

“Orejas!” He shouts, reaching below the counter to hold aloft another bottle of aguardiente. “¡Mira! Solo para ti!”

You grin back at him, raising your voice to shout a greeting, and then, with absolutely no warning, the store explodes.

A loud boom.

A whoosh of impossible heat.

A massive orange fireball billowing from the windows.

Your body flying, flying through the air.

Bright blue sky, and then darkness.

♠

You find yourself lying flat on your back in the middle of the street. Your ears are ringing. There’s a pat-pattering in the air, soft like falling rain.

You blink hard.

It’s not rain, you realize dizzily.

It’s fucking ash.

The air is dark with it, hot and heavy. It coats your tongue and stings your eyes. It’s hard to catch a breath. Your throat hurts, your chest aches. You cough weakly. The smell is terrible, acrid and bitter like burned metal. You can taste it on your tongue.

Slowly, you tense your muscles. Your chest is still burning, but there’s nothing sharp to suggest a serious injury. Your back is sore, your head fuzzy.

You sit up, wincing a little, relieved to realize that you’ve just had the wind knocked from you. You’ll have some bruises tomorrow, but that’s all.

Sound slowly filters in. The hiss and crackle of flame. A shout in the distance. Further away, a wailing siren.

Reality slams into you all at once.

Emilio!

You stand, wobbling more than you think you should, but you push past it. Reality seems to pitch and roil, as if the ground is hitching its breath beneath you. Rubble coats the street, dust clouds the air.

Oh god.

A gaping, smoking crater is all that’s left of Emilio’s pharmacy. The windows are blown out of the businesses on either side, their outer walls bowing under the pressure. Your apartment on the top floor is demolished, the roof caving in, flames licking at the the collapsed floors.

You gasp one long, shuddering breath, taking it all in, and then you’re running, sort of, picking your way through hunks of concrete and twisted metal.

“Emilio! Emilio!”

Your voice is hoarse, the world hushed. Nothing sounds quite right. Your legs are shaking and you can’t catch your breath. Some of the rubble is hot to the touch, and you feel like you’re moving underwater, slow and awkward and stupid.

You approach what’s left of the store, and the smell hits you first. Like cooked meat - charred, greasy, heavy.

You press your hand to your mouth to stifle a scream.

You found Emilio. He’s pinned beneath part of the collapsed roof. You look away quickly, but not before you catch a glimpse of blackened flesh, of bone, blood, and pink frothy tissue.

Acid rises in your throat, and you stumble to your knees, stomach clenching painfully into your ribs as you vomit onto the street. It goes on and on, over and over for an eternity, tears and snot and bile and ash leaking mingled down your face until there is nothing left in you to expel.

The encroaching wail of a siren draws you to your senses. You glance up, suddenly painfully aware of your situation. The ceiling is arching above you, just to your right, and it’s creaking ominously. The fires are still burning, and your shirt is clinging painfully hot against your back. You stagger to your feet once again, dizzy, almost drunkenly. A small crowd has gathered, pointing and gawking, calling out to you in Spanish that you are far, far too overwhelmed to translate.

Gasping, you raise your hands and side-step away, careful of the debris that litters the street around you.

A firetruck arrives on the scene, squalling to a stop between you and the onlookers, and you leap at the opportunity, ducking down the nearest alleyway before anybody can follow.

♠

You aren’t sure how much time you waste in the alleyways of Bogotá.

Seconds?

Minutes?

The time after the explosion is all a blur, and you run until you literally can’t anymore, until you’re doubled over and wheezing, coughing, hacking, panting.

Some primal survival instinct clicks in your brain then, and suddenly, your mind is clear. You glance around, swiping at your cheeks and brushing the ash from your shirt.

Now what?

You take a shaking breath and think.

Okay, first order of business, you’re absolutely disgusting. You need a shower before you can even think about doing anything productive.

Your bathroom just went up in flames, along with all of your clothes. Your heart clenches as you think of Ana - she’s at university, so that’s out. The embassy has a nice bathroom, but no showers that you’re aware of.

There’s only one place you know to go, and that’s Javi’s apartment.

You glance up at the sky. The sun is still pretty low - it can’t have been more than an hour since you’d left work, and that was around seven am. Javi obviously isn’t home, and you don’t have a key, but if you hurry, there’s still a chance that you could catch Murphy before he leaves his flat.

It’s a long shot, but you decide there’s nothing to lose for trying.

#Javier Peña x reader #javier peña #narcos #javi x you #javi x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos netflix #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #Javier Peña imagine #pedro fandom #the rules of engagement #better love #angst #slow burn #friends to lovers #hurt/comfort #smut

362 notes · View notes

geminiwritten · 3 years

Text

heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

179 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Begone

Streamer Gang & Asexual Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Acephobia, Swearing

Genre: Platonic Fluff, Comfort, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Having recently come out as asexual, Y/N faces some less than pleasant or appropriate responses in their chat during their stream with the gang. Luckily, they’re not alone in battling the haters this time.

Requested by the lovely Anon who told acephobes to begone, yeah you know who you are hehe. Thank you so much for the request darling! Let’s show these acehobes who they’re messing with! Love, Vy ❤

Boy is this nerve-wrecking or what? Sure, I maybe woke up with a ton of confidence, I listened to motivational and uplifting talks and listened to mood boosting music. I had a healthy breakfast and a cup of coffee. Damn it, I went on a run, all in an attempt to convince myself that dealing with the online world again is but a piece of cake for a badass like me. Well, low and behold, that feeling didn’t last very long. Here I am, chewing my nails off at the though of hopping in the Discord call and Among Us lobby with my friends and starting my stream. It’s not like I’m not expecting my friends and fans to support me - of course I am! I know they’re gonna give me a ton of love and appreciation and support and uplift me no matter what. But then again, there’s still those people who believe me and other people like me to be invalid and broken and whatnot.

Those are the ones I wanna avoid.

It’s not like their words mean much to me but I simply don’t wanna see em, you know? It’s not only about me - it’s least about me actually - it’s more about all those wonderful people they are insulting when they say shit like that about asexuals and all the people on the ace spectrum. I can’t help but flare up and get angry on the behalf of all my ace friends and even people I’ve never met.

It’s also my first time being directly thrown into the fire instead of getting caught in the crossfire seeing as how I came out to my fandom via a tweet and an Instagram post a week ago, telling my identity’s truth: finally bringing my asexuality to the surface to shine its brightest so I can be be my best and reach for my full potential.

But damn am I afraid to see how everyone took it.

My friends were quick to jump in and take me offline before I start refreshing my own posts to see the comments under them. Lord knows that without them I would’ve driven myself insane, I’ll forever be grateful for what they did and the lengths they went to to keep me offline and whatnot. One word to give you an idea of how invested they were in this: origami. All of us might as well have been born with two left hands and yet we still tried doing origami. Freaking origami.

Damn do I love my friends.

But now I don’t have sheets of paper and my friends to distract me. I have a fanbase to entertain and another friend group I haven’t talked to in a while. I don’t wanna get any predictions in already so I don’t jinx myself, so I’m just gonna say it’s gonna be...interesting regardless of what happens.

Then again, when is it not interesting when the streamer gang’s involved.

Deep breaths, Y/N. You got this

Listening to that encouraging little voice inside my head, I finally equip my headphones and in one fluid motion turn my camera on, officially starting my stream and unmuting my mic as I hop in the call with everyone.

“Hi guys! Guess who’s returned!“ I exclaim cheerfully, desperate to hide the nervousness of my voice.

“You really missed your opportunity to say ‘guess who’s back...back again’ didn’t you?“ Charlie is the one who greets me first, sounding rather disappointed in me in his usual jokester manner. It’s nice to hear, it makes me feel like nothing’s changed in the week I’ve been gone. Like I’m still the same person to these people. I really am the same, I just now am a lot better version of myself. Almost as though I’ve reached my final form. It feels empowering really. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Charlie laughs again, “Congrats, by the way. You keep proving you can get cooler and cooler.“

“Careful there Charlie, I can only handle so large of an ego.“ I joke back, rolling my eyes playfully as a wide grin spreads across my face, “No, but seriously, thank you so much, man. It means the world to me that you support me.“

“Um, how could we NOT?“ That’s very clearly Rae, “Hun, you are so brave and amazing and wonderful, how could we ever NOT support you?“

“Yeah, we’ll always support you no matter what, Y/N. We’ll always be your friends, through thick, thin and beyond.“ Poki too interferes, her words only making my smile wider.

“Alright, alright, y’all are gonna make me cry and I haven’t even read my chat yet, hold on.“ I say, fanning my face to dry the tears I hope the webcam isn’t spotting, “Darn, you guys are the best. Sorry, give me a sec to gather my composure, I’ll be right back.“

I quickly mute my in-game mic as I turn to my chat where I see the same amount of love and support in the form of comments and emojis flooding in from my viewers. A warm feeling spreads throughout my chest, making me feel the most comfortable with myself I’ve ever felt. The most loved I’ve ever felt. The most seen and understood. To finally be you feels like you are finally really living in this world, not like you’ve been already living in it for God knows how long. It makes me so freaking happy and fulfilled to finally be living as me, as the real me.

Unfortunately, in life, nothing can be 100% pure and good. There’s always at least 1% there threatening to ruin all your happiness you worked so hard to build or obtain. It may be one in a hundred, but fuck it’s powerful and effective.

And in my case it comes in the form of two comments that stick out to my eyes. Acephobic comments saying my identity’s fake, claiming I’m faking it, saying us acephobes are immature creatures who refuse to grow up, or attention whores. Or just saying we’re delusional and in denial, confused about who we are.

I hadn’t even realized I was clenching my jaw and fists but when I do, I slowly relax my muscles and crack my knuckles before addressing the two people who spat out that nonsense.

“Ok, listen here, shooterpro69 and yourmom_lol. For starters, I want to apologize for your ignorance and lack of education on the matter of asexuality. In fact, for you especially, I plan on making an educational video, explaining asexuality to people who need or want to learn more. You, my friends, are in desperate need to be fed some knowledge cause damn, God knows how many people secretly think you’re hella stupid. Not that they’re wrong to think so but anyway. Unless you have anything nice or positive to say, begone from my chat. Actually, when I think about it, begone from every chat. No one needs you polluting their communities with acephobia and hate.“ I say, all spoken in a calm tone despite the boiling anger within me. People who know me well would probably be able to tell I’m fuming underneath the calm façade, but at least I got my message across loud and clear.

“WOO HOO, You tell em Y/N!“ Toast cheers, clapping his hands and whistling as more cheering arises from each my friends, leaving me in a state of mild shock and confusion.

Wait, what?!

“Um, wait, you guys heard that?“ I ask, my eyes darting to thein-game mic symbol that shows an not crossed-off mic, meaning it was enabled during the entirety of my speech.

“Hell yeah we did! You slayed them, Y/N! Damn goddamn!“ Rae whistles too, her enthusiasm wafting over me like a breath of fresh air.

“I second that!“ Corpse joins in, “And remember what we said - we’ll support you through anything. Need to bury an acephobe’s body, we’re the people you should call.” He says, confident as heck.

And I just can’t hold it in anymore - I burst out laughing, doubling over from the intensity.

If I thought I was happy and fulfilled before, this has to be the closest to paradise I’m gonna get on Earth. All thanks to these wonderful people. Friends are really something else aren’t they: they come into your life - often unexpectedly - and change it completely. Suddenly you’re not alone, you’re not forced to deal with everything and face everything on your own. Someone’s got your back and you’ve got theirs.

Through thick, thin and beyond.

And it’s so fucking amazing.

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse @sunnyrae-cessh @ladykxxx08 @meowiemari

100 notes · View notes

themauvesoul · 3 years

Text

Anyways if I was gonna do an epic s8 rewrite:

y’all remember that Sam and John parallel they set up all the way back in s1 and didn’t do anything with bc the writers collectively forgot abt it? Payoff time babey. Put a pin in that.

Anyways. The first ep opens exactly where s7 ended. Dean and cas just vanished. Dick is exploded. Kevin is freaking out. Crowley is gloating.

Like I think sam should snap. He’s just been through the wringer. He’s been beat down and beat down for a solid year at this point. He’s lost and grief stricken and doesn’t know what to do, but he gets Kevin out and away from crowley. And then Kevin looks at him and says there was something else on that tablet. It said there was a way to seal hell off forever.

ok so. lemme explain some things. I think that sam is at his core a very angry person, just like dean at his core is always afraid. So like. Dean will lash out and use anger to cover his fear. Sam tries to sublimate and suppress his anger by choosing to be kind instead. and i think that s7 made him feel too tired and helpless to be angry, UNTIL kevin accidentally gave him an outlet. so like. I wanna see sams repression skills fail. I wanna see him lose the last shit he had left to give and go absolutely balls to the walls insane. I want a mystery spot 2.0: This Time It’s Permanant.

And HERES the payoff of that little parallel. Sam latches onto revenge the way that John latched onto his. like theyre operating under the same delusion: if i kill the thing that destroyed my life, I’ll experience some sort of catharsis.

So like. Sam goes off the deep end. I think he starts off by going full witch, but I think it would be extremely sexy if he eventually started drinking demon blood again. Kevin is like. i dont think this is right but idk enough about hunting or witchcraft to dispute it. They’re on an evil road trip trying to track down the demon tablet and kill crowley once and for all. This is the A plot.

The second ep opens with dean landing in purgatory. This is the B plot.

The season alternates between Sam doing evil fucked up shit on his and Kevin’s revenge road trip and dean doing fucked up shit in purgatory

Sam and Kevin get ahold of the demon tablet for a bit, and decode enough of it to start doing the trials. that happens in s8 right? im only halfway thru.

Idk if spn has a mid season break, but halfway thru the season shit pops tf off. Sam completes the first trial, and in the same ep dean finally gets out of purgatory. that would happen in the last ep before the midseason break. idk yall i havent watched a tv show live in literal years.

Speaking of purgatory, I think it’s dumb that the angels scooped cas out of purgatory. So I’m changing it. Instead, cas goes out of the portal with dean, but the angels scoop him mid-transit. Dean wakes up alone in the woods and cas wakes up in heaven, speaking with Naomi.

I think there should be a power struggle in heaven, between Naomi and metatron. They’re fighting to control lesser angels like pawns. Naomi has an edge because she can like. Brainwash angels into being loyal to her, but metatron LOVES murder and manipulation. Girlboss of him.

Shit REALLY pops tf off in the second half of the season. Sam is doing the trials. Kevin is helping Sam do the trials. Dean is desperately trying to get Sam to stop, because the trials are actively killing him. Dean is also having a really hard time adjusting to normal life after being in purgatory. Cas is actively being brainwashed by Naomi. Crowley found the angel tablet, and now he’s trying to close heaven, while simultaneously trying to fend off winchester and co

Crypt scene! It’s exactly the same. Naomi tries to make cas kill dean, but he breaks free and fucks off with the angel tablet. its extremely homoerotic. Dean DOES say i forgive you, cas. I love you.

Metatron finds cas after he fucks off and convinces cas that the only way to save earth from getting caught in the crossfire of a three-way war is to close off heaven, while the winchesters close off hell.

The end is the same as canon. Metatron tricks cas into giving up his grace, and then uses it to make all the angels fall. The last shot of the season is that one with all the angels falling from the sky.

In conclusion why so many flashbacks when you could just start the season at a different point in time mr. carver. explain your thought process to me.

#im just thinking again. u know.

42 notes · View notes

lag1995-fics · 3 years

Note

Hii. Can I request a fanfic for the song and Evan character thing? Could it be That's all by Genesis and Kai Anderson please?

I hope you like smut cause this one came out spicy 🌶. Apologies in advance I suck at writing Kai.

That’s All

Pairing:Kai x female reader

Warnings:Kai Anderson being Kai Anderson. Stalking, murder, derogatory language towards women, unhealthy relationship, language, smut

Words: 2190

Summary: Kai and reader share an unhealthy relationship but hey they love each other

Song Fic Masterlist

You were a self professed nasty woman, you had voted proudly for Hillary. She had clearly been the lesser of two evils. Plus it was about god damned time a woman broke that glass ceiling. You were pretty much everything Kai Anderson hated about women in general.

Kai should hate you, he should want to torment you but you intrigued him. It had started simply enough, hun being the entitled creep that he is had watched you do yoga in your backyard. You didn’t know of course, not then at least, that you had gained a stalker.

It hadn’t taken Kai long to realize that he wanted you to be his. He wanted to possess every part of you, he wanted you to be his and only his. He had a very unhealthy obsession with you.

That wasn’t all though he had also caught your eye. You had been out getting your mail one day dressed in nothing but a large t-shirt and shorts so short they couldn’t be seen beneath the hem of the shirt. You had seen him staring you down his blue hair thrown messily up into a bun on top of his head.

You were struck by his Beauty, he truly was a beautiful man. With brown eyes so dark they looked like two pieces of coal staring into your soul. You waved, flashing him a bright grin. He flashed you a grin of his own and as much as it made your panties dampen it also had an unhinged quality.

When you had got inside an uncharacteristically girlish giggle escaped your lips. Your roommate looked at you like you had grown three heads. You could feel your cheeks fill with fire. You were supposed to be a strong woman that didn’t need a man to complete her. Your neighbor was something else though.

“Who is this person giggling like a schoolgirl, that replaced my good friend y/n.” She cackled and you could feel the fire in your cheeks spread to your chest and ears.

“Our neighbor is kind of cute,” you replied waspishly.

“No really where is my roommate, the man hating feminist activist?” She joked.

“I don’t hate all men. I just think that men in general are problematic at best,” you defended huffily.

“He’s probably a raging trumpy,” she teased, lightheartedly.

“Oh is not he had long blue hair that was in a bun” you defended despite not knowing anything about this man. You didn’t know why you felt the need to defend him like you were.

“Oh you got it bad!” she collapsed into a fit of laughter when you threw a throw pillow at her.

***

It was another two weeks before you saw your mysterious neighbor again. He was talking to a shorter girl who was wearing a t-shirt that had “pussy power” emblazoned on her chest. This gave you the burst of confidence you needed as you strode over to them before you could talk yourself out of it.

“I love your shirt” you addressed the girl and she flashed you a grin.

“Thanks,” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. You could feel his eyes boring into the side of your head and flashed him a smile as well. You couldn’t help but admit to being a bit disappointed when he rolled his eyes.

“Ignore him. I’m Winter and this is my brother Kai” she introduced herself holding out a hand for you to shake which you did.

Kai the name rolled around in your head. You couldn’t help but entertain some mild fantasy of screaming out his name as he fucked you into a mattress. You shook the dirty fantasy from your mind.

“Nice to meet you I’m y/n,” you held out a hand to the blue haired man letting yourself take him in up close.

He had messy stubble along his chin and his blue hair hung around his face. His eyes were even more haunting up close and you felt like you could get lost in them. He took your hand wrapping his larger one around it, he had a firm grip. You couldn’t help but physically gulp from the skin to skin contact.

“We’ve met before, you live across the street. You like the power puff girls right?” He teased and you suddenly remembered what shirt you had been wearing.

“The power puff girls are fucking rad Kai” Winter defended and you smiled at her. Something in the way he looked at you made you want to submit to him. It was overwhelming to say the least.

“Whatever” he rolled his eyes again.

***

You and winter only grew closer and she quickly became part of your friend group. You tried to forget about Kai after finding out his political affiliations. He was everything you fought against. He was proud of being a chauvinistic pig.

You had decided to move on after a heated debate on men’s rights. You had tried to point out that all feminists wanted was equality. Men in this country as it stood right now had more rights than women did. It was a travesty.

He wouldn’t listen to you at all and went out of his way to call you a Misandrist. You had boiled over at that loudly proclaiming that you had really liked him up until the point he started spewing this nonsense. He was a pig and didn’t deserve the time of day you had already given him.

You would think that the polar opposite political opinions would cut the sexual tension like a hot king through butter; it didn’t though. If anything you were even more attracted to the man and Kai who normally had minimal patience for mouthy women was even more interested in making you his. He didn’t want to break you the fighting was too much fun but he definitely wanted to bend you to his will enough that you would never leave him.

You on the other hand had forced yourself to start dating other people. None of them compared to the man who fucked you everynight in your dreams. Kai Anderson was a force to be reckoned with.

***

Kai was sitting in the basement when Winter trudged down with her arms full of pizza. His eyes snapped to his sister and he couldn’t help but ask about y/n.

“Is y/n coming for dinner?” He asked, eyeing the pizza. Winter couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her brother who had developed an unhealthy obsession with her newest friend.

“No she’s got a date tonight some dude called Brad” Winter shrugged nonchalantly, knowing it would rile up her brother.

“What the fuck, she can’t go on a date with another dude” Kai spat possessively.

“Well tell her that because she definitely went on a date tonight” Winter laughed leaving her brother to stew in his resentment before he could snap at her.

“BULLSHIT!” He roared, flipping the coffee table in his anger.

He angrily grabbed his laptop logging into Facebook, whoever this Brad fucker was; was a deadman. He found your profile going to your profile ignoring the hideous cat eared beanie covering your beautiful hair in your profile picture. There were only three Brads on your friends list, one of them was well into his fifties and married, the other shared your last name and was probably a cousin. That left only one option, the man who appeared in the photo was everything Kai wasn’t. He was clean cut and wore a goofy ass bow tie.

He made a call ordering a hit on him but only if he was alone. He couldn’t risk you possibly getting hurt in the crossfire.

***

It was only two days after your disastrous tinder date that you found out Brad had been murdered. You were sad for his family. The date hadn’t been great but he had been nice in a dweeby, Silicon Valley sort of way. It seemed Kai had ruined you for all other men. You couldn’t help but compare them to him.

Winter had called you telling you how sorry she was. Winter was sorry she hadn’t thought Kai would murder someone just for dating you. She had only meant to piss him off; she didn’t want to be responsible for this man’s death.

***

You were at the Anderson’s again eating Chinese this time. It had almost become a every other day ritual. She would go hang out with Winter and argue with her brother.

“Women should be put back in their place,” he had started in before you cut him off glaring at him.

“Oh and what place would that be because I think it should be in a place of power. You know like the office of the presidency,” you snarled.

“Oh my god would you guys just fuck already and get it over with?” Winter who was fed up rolled her eyes walking up the stairs leaving you alone with Kai. Your eyes flashed to Kai’s and you could clearly read the hunger in them.

“She’s got a point,” he said lowly, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. You didn’t even realize you had unconsciously been walking toward him until you felt his strong arms wrap around your waist pulling you into him making you squeak.

“Fuck” you whispered looking into his eyes.

“A pretty girl like you should use such whorish language, I might have to wash that dirty slut mouth out with soap,” he groaned pushing his need against your pelvis.

“Oh god,” you whined grasping at his strong shoulders for stability.

“Say my name whore,” he snapped, his hand reaching under your comfortable sweat shirt and undoing your bra.

“Kai,” you breathed before pressing your lips into his own. He quickly took control of the kiss fighting your tongue and biting down sharply when he won.

“Fuck, I’ve wanted to do this to you since you started teasing me with your slutty little yoga moves” he ground himself into you.

You couldn’t find the right words so you just moaned as he started stripping both of you of your clothes. When he slipped your yoga pants from you body and saw that you were wearing any underwear underneath he got a maniacal look in his eyes.

“Fuck you are a little whore,” he slipped his fingers into the folds of your sopping cunt.

“You like that slut?” He punctuated each word with the curl of his fingers against that sweet spot. When you didn’t answer he proceeded to add two more fingers and you could feel the burning stretch.

“I asked you a question,” he demanded fucking your pussy with his fingers and rubbing your clit with his thumb.

“I love it,” you managed to choke out, “please Kai I need you”

“Fuck,” he his pulling his finishers from you wet pussy lips and shoved them into your mouth to suck on them, slowly thrusting them into your pretty little mouth.

“That’s what a woman’s mouth should be used for, not mouthing off,” he chuckled darkly.

You gasped as you felt the blunt head of his cock against your pussy. Without warning he slammed into you to the hilt sending your already sensitive body off the edge and into a wave of pleasure.

“That’s right cum on my cock bitch,” he gasped as he pounded into you hard and fast. You could feel the build of another orgasm cresting. Your walls began to flutter around him causing him to lose some control as his thrusting became erratic. The two of you sailed off the precipice together.

With more care then you would have expected he pulled out of you kissing your forehead. He grabbed his soft t-shirt using it to wipe you as you lay cuddled to his chest. Your mind was whirling at the fact that you had just let Kai fucking Anderson fuck the shit out of you while he called you every name in the book. It would be easier to find someone that held the same viewpoints as you. They just never seemed to strike your heart strings the way Kai did. You could be wearing a white shirt and prove to him it was white and he would still say it was black. You were yin and yang, and you knew now you wouldn’t be able to leave.

“Y/n, I love you” he said and if you hadn’t been listening you wouldn’t have heard it. Your eyes widened, Kai didn’t love anyone, not even Winter. He also wasn’t a liar and if he said that he loved you , it was true no matter how unhealthy their relationship was.

“I love you too. It had slipped out before you could think about the consequences of this. What the two of you had was pure and primal.

“You do know that I will never stop arguing with you though?” You added. You still believed wholeheartedly that women deserved the same advantages as men.

“I’d be disappointed if you did” he confessed and you leaned up to kiss him melting once again into his touch.

——//////———-//////———

Send me a song and an Evan Peters Character and I’ll write you a fic.

#kai anderson x reader #kai anderson #kai is a jerk wad #kai x reade #kai x reader #kai #ahs cult #possibly triggering #evan peters #reader insert #ahs fanfiction #fanfiction

67 notes · View notes

secret-rendezvous1d · 3 years

Text

“i fucked up.”

hello, hi!

here’s the spencer reid angst that came from this prompt here; “can you write some angst where spencer and the reader work together in the bau and he does something incredibly stupid in and reckless and she’s so frustrated and upset with him that she doesn’t talk to him the whole rest of the case/ride home & then they have a big fight when they get back to their place and it ends with her confessing she’s scared of losing him and that’s why she got so upset?”

just like smut, angst isn’t something i am very good at so i hope this did some justice to the prompt which i really enjoyed writing. some anger, some upset, some drama... all in one story so i hope it is what you wanted when requesting what you asked me to write. if anyone has any ideas on what i can write then don’t hesitate to send it in - i’ll eventually get to it, hahaha.

like, reblog and send in some feedback, please. it’s greatly appreciated and it helps me work out what you want to see and what you are after. if you want something specific then do let me know! i’d love to try and write something for you.

thank you. enjoy.

“i fucked up” spencer reid x female reader (reader insert imagine) word count; 4.1k.

summary; when spencer chooses to do something reckless in the field, he gets himself injured and doesn’t think of the consequences afterwards.

As soon as YN saw Spencer take his vest off and place his gun back in the holster, her gut dropped.

She wanted to shout at him and persuade him not to do what he was thinking of doing but he already had Hotch shouting orders for him to stay back, she wanted to chase after him but Morgan was already on that whilst calling his name to get him to look back and take a think about what he was about to become a part of, she wanted to grab his discarded vest from where he had dropped it in his haste to get into the house without being a threat to the unsub and secure it back around his middle and strap it back over his shoulders because, to her, there was no way she would have let him go into the house without it. The gun could only do so much in a situation and it wasn’t going to protect him if he was caught in the crossfire and shot in the chest and left to bleed to death because he was trying to do something good.

All she could do, much to her annoyance, was stay put behind the car with her gun cocked, to be another set of eyes on the scene to catch anyone who could make a potential run for an escape without realising the house was surrounded and that they had nowhere to go but the arms of a cop of who had handcuffs at the ready and a gun cocked and ready to shoot of they tried to play smart. She couldn’t run in, all guns blazing and allow her emotional side to take over to stop him when he was already doing what he spontaneously thought of, because who knows what that would have set off and she probably would have made the problem even bigger than it needed to be.

She felt sick when he disappeared behind the shrubbery, out of sight for everyone but Morgan, who was hot on his heels, and into the unknown.

All they could do, on the outside, was wait and see what happened. Everyone kept a sharp eye and ear out for any sounds of a struggle, any hints of the unsub escaping, any weapons cocking or grunts from an attempt to injure someone, any shouts for help and any calls for back-up or for a medic because Spencer had really gotten himself into a problem and Morgan couldn’t handle it by himself.

Hotch kept making the occasional glance in her direction, which she chose to ignore because he was the head of the team and he should have done more to stop Spencer from going ahead with whatever he thought he was doing and he should have followed him into to scene to order him back out to wait and stand around with everyone else, and she could hear Morgan’s occasional updates over their radios and the distant ‘clear’ being said when each room had been checked which brought her some sense of comfort but the inevitable was still yet to happen. That unsub was still in the house, no one had left and no one had gotten an order for half of the team to go to another address because they had the wrong place and the person they were after wasn’t where they were, and YN knew it wasn’t exactly going to be an arrest that was made easy.

It wasn’t until she heard a panicked call for Hotch and for some kind of back-up that she looked at him, tightening the vest to her chest and re-cocking her gun to shoot anyone that threatened to come her way with a weapon with a focus on nothing but to injure her to get passed her, and he didn’t have to give her the go-ahead glance because she was already passed the car and up the front lawn steps before anyone else was prepped and ready to be her back-up.

She could hear struggles from the back room and, as horrible as it sounded in her mind, she prayed it was Morgan in the middle of the scrap - at least Derek could deal and fight back at anyone who came at him with fists balled and arms raised up.

It wasn’t Morgan, she knew that deep down in the back of her mind and she didn’t need to see a visual to know that Morgan was the one who stood in the corner of the room whilst announcing back-up was required and a medic was needed desperately because there was a ‘man down’, and when she saw Spencer on the floor, as a victim to someone’s severe and unstable behaviour, work protocol on loved ones went out the window. She shot at the thigh of the unknown subject, watching them fall to the ground in pain and angrily throwing insults and anger towards her, allowing Morgan the opportunity to hold his arms behind his back and cuff him so he could do no more damage to anyone, but she didn’t even care about what he was calling her or his feeble attempts to break her because all she could focus on was the lanky man curled up on the floor with a bloodied lip and a swollen eye and his arms cradling his chest as he winced in pain.

“You stupid idiot,” she hissed at him, crouching down to his level and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Deep down, she cared about him and she hated how angry she felt towards him for being hurt but that same anger was at a level in her body that was strong enough to push her caring thoughts aside; regardless of her love for him, what he did was stupid, it was unnecessary and it got him in the bad books. “What the hell were you thinking? In fact, no. No, you weren’t thinking at all. I don’t know what happened but whatever you were trying to be, whoever you were trying to impress, you were stupid for even thinking you could do it alone.”

“YN-”

“No,” she held her index finger up at him and halted him from even beginning his sentence. Blood dribbled slowly down his chin from a cut that would definitely require some kind of stitch, soaking into the collar of his striped shirt and leaving a patch that kept expanding into the fabric, “Spencer, you don’t get to say anything right now. You were stupid, reckless, careless. Did you even think about what you were doing? You knew how dangerous this man is yet you came in and thought you could save the day.”

She felt a pair of hands on her shoulder, pulling her back from Spencer to allow the medics to take a once over and determine whether he needed medical attention from a hospital or whether they could fix him in the ambulance outside, one medic crouching down by his face and taking note of the cuts and bruises on his lips and around his eyes and nose and one medic kneeling down behind him to have a feel of where he was sore around his body.

“Being angry at him won’t help the situation right now,” Hotch murmured, guiding her out of the house, away from the scene and back out in the open. All eyes seemed to be on them, JJ giving her a sympathetic smile and Blake squeezing her hand soothingly as Hotch walked the both of them down the steps. He had no plans to stop in his tracks so the girls could ‘gossip’ about what had just happened. “He almost got himself killed and I’ll have that conversation with him when we’re alone and when he’s better and able to understand. I don’t need you doing my job for me.”

“I’m sorry but-”

“No buts, agent YLN,” he interrupted, leaving her at the passenger side of the black SUV she had arrived in. Arms folded over his chest, his tie a little skew whiff and twisting under his forearms, his eyebrows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled with frown lines. “I advise you to keep your personal life out of the field next time, okay? What he did was wrong, he went against the team, but we don’t need a scene in the middle of a crime scene. Be professional about this and sort your problems out on your own terms.”

He turned around and walked back towards the house, leaving her reeling in her boots, angrily placing her gun in her holster and yanking the car door open. With a slam behind her, she got comfy in the front seat and folded her arms across her padded chest, watching as cop after cop after cop passed the car and briefly glanced at her - she felt embarrassed, to say the least, but what was she supposed to do? Fall to her knees and cry because her boyfriend had been brutally beaten by a killer? Ignore the fact that her boyfriend was bruised and bloody in the middle of a musky living room so she could place attention on the one person who didn’t truly deserve it? Stand amongst the crime scene, arrest the man who had killed for fun, and completely ignore how they’d used hands and feet to take down and assault an agent?

There was no chance.

She watched as they arrested the bloke, seating him in the back of a police car that was parked two vehicles up from the one she was seated in, feeling sick to her stomach at the sight of the smirk and humour that laced his features together. He truly was one sick son of a bitch and she knew he was getting what was coming to him; not only the murder of four women but the assault of a federal agent when resisting arrest and she couldn’t wait to watch him get sent to rot in a cell for the rest of his life.

From the corner of her eye, she saw a gurney roll across the tarmac. Spencer was stretched down the thin bed, an oxygen mask tight to his face, and three medical examiners surrounding him, pushing him towards the back of the ambulance waiting to take him to the closest hospital so he could be checked over. She should have been going with him, holding his hand and agreeing on meeting the rest of the team back at the airport before boarding the jet home, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave the vehicle. Treating it like it was locked, like she had no way of escape.

“Are you not going with him?”

Morgan made her jump; she hadn’t heard him open the car door and she must of missed him seating himself in the driver's seat, a hint of concern in his voice as he clipped the seatbelt around him.

“I don’t want to see him right now,” she admitted guiltily, looking down at her fingers and picking at her thumbnails, “Morgan, he makes me so angry when he does things like that. He’s not some kind of superman, for god sake. I don’t know why he thinks he can do that and come out unscathed.”

“He thought he was doing the right thing,” Morgan said; Spencer’s actions didn’t need justification from someone else. He needed to justify his own actions and he needed to realise he wasn’t someone that could pull off something as confident as that and have the same outcome as someone who had done it before. “He had the right idea at heart. He thought he was less threatening going in with nothing, to show we weren’t here for a fight-”

“And look where that got him,” YN scoffed, rolling her eyes and looking out the window and watching the ambulance, holding Spencer, roll passed the car and disappear behind the group of people who had come out to be nosey at all of the commotion, “I can’t see him or speak to him right now because if I do, I’ll shout at him. And I don’t want to shout at him. I don’t want to but he makes me want to, Derek.”

“You don’t have to shout at him,” he reasoned, “just sit him down, hear him out and show him where he went wrong. Tell him how it made you feel. Maybe it’ll do him some good to have a calm conversation because Hotch will have his ass on that jet for being so reckless.”

He started the engine with the key in the ignition and shifted it into gear, driving off soon after the ambulance had been cleared to leave, following Hotch’s SUV out of the crowd and down the quiet street. Gaining speed as the tyres rolled over the tarmac, going in the direction of the airport.

No matter how disappointed and angry she was at what he’d done, she hoped Spencer wasn’t seriously injured.

Home had never felt so... unhomely.

Usually, upon their arrival and cramped in the elevator on the way up to their floor, they were making plans before they got to their front door. Choosing what takeaway they were going to order from, telling the other what they fancied to eat so they could whittle down the long list of local restaurants and decide one that catered to both of their needs, deciding on what film they were going to watch before they went to bed and chucking ideas around for what they could do to pass the time until their food had arrived.

Except, this time, the elevator ride was quiet and she wished she took the stairs so she didn’t have to stand so close to him. There was no talking and no silly disputes over what film they wanted to watch for the night, even though he wanted to desperately hear her voice talk to him about something pointless rather than hearing her voice talk about him to someone else; he was fed up of being the topic of someone’s gossip. There was no conversation about getting dinner in, there was no indication that a conversation on any topic should have been started and there was no reason to make small talk when she was angry with him. She was tunnel-visioned for nothing but pure astonishment and rage and there was no way she would have made a conversation through to the end without mentioning how stupid he was. He certainly wasn’t going to force her to talk to him if she didn’t want to; as much as it pained him, more than the bruised ribs and the black eye that was now forming around his left eye, he respected that and if she needed time then time is what she was going to get from him.

It was late when they landed so he wasn’t surprised when she walked into the bedroom without kissing him goodnight, without telling him she was going to bed without food, without telling him goodnight and that she loved him and would be waiting for him to get himself ready for bed. The door closing behind her, a thud from her bag colliding with the floor echoing throughout their apartment, the muffled and wobbly sigh that left her mouth could be heard from where he stood in the entryway and he couldn’t bear to think that she was about let all of her pent-up emotions out silently.

The argument they had had as soon as the case had come to an end had driven a wedge between them for the entire night, with the drive to the airport and the flight home feeling awkward, with tension that could have been sliced with a knife. She couldn’t sleep on the ride home because all she could picture was him in pain, she couldn’t look at him as he stretched out on the sofa of the jet because he looked pained and she couldn’t talk to him because her cover would have been blown - she was pained but she didn’t want him to know that, not just yet. She wanted him to squirm and have his mind reeling to gain some kind of understanding, because he wasn’t an idiot when it came to reading the room, on why she had such an outrage at his poor decision.

Home… neither of them could consider it home when it didn’t feel like it.

If Spencer was known for one thing, it would be his ability to sneak around without being detected.

The chill in the air that filled their living space had gotten too much for him to bear, even with the woollen socks pulled on his feet and the jumper he tugged on in a haste to leave the bedroom and the throw blanket he picked up from the back of the sofa to wrap himself up in before he fell asleep. The cushions weren’t exactly his pillow from the bedroom, the sofa cushions weren’t the memory foam mattress he slept upon during three or four nights of the week, the glaring red light from the television had nothing compared to the street lamp that was directly set outside their bedroom window and the whirring of the electrical appliances in the kitchen were much more of a distraction than relaxing.

Arguments were rare between the two of them. Silly spats and sarcasm had been top level in terms of arguing - they could never make it through to the end of fiery hash of words without feeling guilty for something they said in the spur of the moment - and how they argued couldn’t have even classed as verbally fighting each other because they weren’t going for the jugular of the problem.

Any creak of the floorboards beneath his feet or a sudden squeak of the bedroom door would have woken YN up in sudden fright.

To him, as he stood in the doorway and a little distance away from her, she looked so peaceful as she laid curled up beneath the comforter, staying strictly on her side of the bed. But, as he tiptoed closer to the edge of her side of the bed and knelt down, he could see the streaks dried on her cheeks. The bags under her eyes, the soreness underneath her nose from the tissues that had been balled up and left on the bedside table, it was enough to make him realise that she’d silently cried herself to sleep.

“I fucked up,” he whispered, his palm cupping her face and feeling the dried tears underneath the pad of his thumb as he stroked the curve gently, moving the hair that had stuck to her skin, “baby, I fucked up massively and I’m so, so sorry-”

“Yeah, you fucked up massively,” she mumbled under her breath, loudly enough for him to hear her, signifying that she was awake and confirming the curiosity he had on whether she was deeply sleeping or trying to doze off without overthinking everything that had happened that day. She cracked an eye open and could just see the black silhouette of his body as he crouched down to her level, the street lights outside of their apartment complex filtering through the slit of the curtains covering their window and outlining him otherwise she wouldn’t have seen him through her tired eyes, his elbows resting on the edge of the mattress. “You put yourself in so much danger, Spencer. Fucked up isn’t even the right way to put it.”

“I know,” he sighed heavily, his hand still laying upon her cheek, “and you have no idea how sorry I am. I don’t know what came over me, I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go in with no protection, I don’t know what made me think I could defy Hotch’s orders. I just knew I had to try and do something to get the unsub to come with us willingly and to not resist,” his voice sounded sincere, incredibly apologetic, and when she turned on the bedside lamp and let it fill the room with light (much to her sore eyes), his face matched his voice. Eyes full of forlorn distress, tiredness stinging at the corners and each blink felt like a papercut to his eyeballs, he looked exhausted and he held so much guilt in his stature. “YN, if I could take it back then I would.”

“Yeah, tell that to the bruised ribs and the black eye.”

The purplish, yellow ring around his eye looked horrific, stretching from his temple to the inner corner of his eye and in such a liquified state that had purple fading into yellow and yellow fading to the darkest of blues where he had been hit the hardest. The stitches on his lip looked painful, holding together the cut that had split from a knuckle to his mouth, a little blood having leaked out when he spoke, his mouth looking swollen and she could tell he struggled to speak and pronounce his words with ease..

He felt stupid, demoralised, and he was only brought back to the pain that throbbed below his chest when she pointed it out and reminded him of the injuries he pertained when trying to be the one who could bring the stalemate between the police and the unsub to its end.

“I’m still angry with you,” she grumbled, “but, if you’re coming to lay down, then hurry up so I can go back to sleep again.”

“Scoot over, maybe?” He wondered sheepishly, a scoff leaving her mouth that he didn’t take to heart because of the smile twitching at the corners of her lips. Obeying him, she threw the comforter from her body and began pushing herself along the width of the mattress until she was laid on the chilly and untouched side of her bed. The sheets wrinkling up beneath her body, and comforter made her feel cold - that was, until she felt him climb in beside her, leaning against the headboard and revelling in the warmth she had left behind in her place and closing his eyes in contentment. “You’re warm. You make the living room feel like the north pole.”

“Are you comfy enough?” She asked, looking at him from where she laid her head on his pillow, “do you want your jumper off?”

He nodded and cracked an eye open, looking down at her and smiling. She sat herself back up, moving onto her knees so she had easier access and a little bit of a stronger posture to pull the thick maroon jumper from his upper body, making sure not to jostle or nudge any of the areas that he had been punched, kicked and beaten over the last 6 hours. When his upper body became bare, she couldn’t help but look at the bruises that were forming under his nipples and the cuts that covered his upper arms and around his shoulders.

“It helps not to look at them,” he stated. But her eyes barely left the purple blemishes covering his chest, her fingers instinctively brushing over them, “they’ll go within a week. Maybe two. They won’t be so garishly purple then.”

“I hate you for this,” she frowned, retracting her hand when she heard him wince painfully, only then did her eyes meet his. One black and one a little red-rimmed and full of sleep. “I hate that you did what you did. But, I’m sorry for overreacting. I should have looked after you.”

“No,” he cooed and shook his head, “you had every right to react the way you did. You worried, you needed time to cool off, it’s okay. It doesn’t make me upset that you didn’t talk to me for the night.”

“Yeah, but, I made you sleep on the sofa, Spence. Out in the cold, with cuts and bruises and sore ribs, cramped up in this condition,” she mentally slapped herself in the face for being so stupid and so ignorant, her eyes drifting back down to the bruising, “god, they’re so horrible.”

“I’m okay,” he reassured her, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“I know but,” he grabbed her hands and shushed her, shaking his head, stopping her every time she tried to continue the conversation, “Spencer-”

“We don’t need to dwell on what happened. We need to focus on now and, right now, we need a cuddle and a good night's sleep and an early morning so we can eat a good breakfast before we go to work,” he smiled, her arms bracing her weight as she straightened her legs from underneath her and cosied down upon the mattress, the light switching off and succumbing the room into darkness, the only way she could really know he was getting cosy was the movement and the jostling of the mattress beneath her.

She was hesitant to even rest her head upon his chest because she didn’t want to cause him more pain.

“You won’t hurt me. You couldn’t possibly hurt me.”

130 notes · View notes

kyber-crystal · 4 years

Text

Bulletproof

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~1.7k

Summary: In which the Captain gets a little too overprotective, but you end up interpreting his words the wrong way and taking it a little too personally.

Warnings: slight mentions of violence, angry steve, soft steve

A/N: this was so bad omg I’m so sorry.

The flight back after a mission was always quiet, whether everything had gone well or not. The team was both physically and mentally drained, falling into a comfortable silence as the Quinjet propelled itself through the sky. This mission in particular had taken a toll on all of you.

You were seated in the far corner of the jet as you glanced over at the screen of the flight details, thigh bandaged and throbbing mildly. While you were able to extract the intel you needed, you'd thrown yourself into the crossfire to do so, being gunned down by a sniper from above. You were lucky enough for it to be just a simple graze, but Steve was treating it as if it was the end of the world.

Of course, you kind of understood where he was coming from. Despite the fact that you had over ten years of experience in the field, you were the youngest member of the team besides Pietro and Wanda, being only two years behind Steve himself. But that didn't stop you from feeling annoyed every time he seemed to act a little too overprotective no matter how many times you claimed you could take care of yourself.

"He's just worried for your safety," Natasha tried to explain when you complained about this one night. "You know how Cap is. A let's-get-down-to-business and always-follow-the-rules type of guy. I wouldn't overthink it if I were you."

You still couldn't help but think that he was overreacting a majority of the time, however. And in this one case in which he'd caught your side comment, it had erupted into a full-on argument.

"The least you could've done was call for backup," he said through gritted teeth. "You went against orders and tried to handle things on your own, and look where that got you."

"Excuse me?" You rolled your eyes. Whenever he made jabs at your decisions like this it made your blood boil with a furious anger; wanting nothing more than to explode at him. "I was successful in doing my job, was I not? And it's not like there were any better options presented to me at that moment."

"That doesn't matter. You could've gotten yourself killed!" he shouted, jaw tensed and arms crossed over his chest as you stared each other down. "How could you have been so stupid, putting your life on the line like that?"

"Stupid?" you scoffed, seething with anger at this point. "If I recall, I was the one who got the intel from the controls room and shut the system down!"

"And you got shot as you were leaving because you didn't keep a good enough lookout of your surroundings. You put the entire team into jeopardy," he told you matter-of-factly. The words stung, but you did your best to remain calm despite being unable to believe he had the nerve to say something like that. "You almost ruined this mission."

The team sat in stunned silence as they watched the screaming match unfold between you two.

"I'm sorry, but you know what, Rogers?" you spat, voice now raised several notches, "Maybe I'm sorry for pissing you off, but there's no way I'm gonna keep putting up with you constantly criticizing me for every little thing I do. We all make mistakes, so I don't get why I'm the only one who gets shit on for making a slip up every. Single. Damn. Time! I'm sick of you ordering me around like you're my boss, because you aren't."

"I'm trying to do what's best for both of us!" Steve yelled. "You just can't seem to get that through your head, can you?"

"Don't need to act like such an asshole about it."

"You know, I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday," he shot back, his harsh words feeling like a spear being thrust through your chest. "And I won't take any credit for it, because it'll be all on you."

You refused to look away, even as your lower lip trembled and your shoulders shook, unwilling to back down. Your lashes brimmed heavy with tears, hands clenched into shaking fists in a desperate last bid to keep it together.

"Okay, cut it out," Tony finally interrupted, Wanda pulling you away from Steve as the murderous look in your eyes told her you were ready to throw hands. "You need to stop bickering like a married couple all the time."

"Tell that to the self-righteous egotistical man who thinks he's always in charge," you muttered.

"To the ignorant woman who's always throwing herself into the crossfire without considering how it might affect the overall completion of the mission," Steve shot back.

"You little—"

"Y/N," Wanda placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, "stop. It's not worth arguing over."

You winced as she helped you sit down, the pain from your wound beginning to catch up to you after standing on your injured leg for too long.

The rest of the flight was spent in silence, with you and Steve refusing to look in each others' direction entirely.

...

As soon as the jet touched down back at HQs, you quickly changed and went straight to the gym. After wrapping protective tape around your palms, you went up to one of the punching bags and began attacking the hell out of it, imagining it as Steve's face making it easier and seeming to further fuel your anger.

You went at this for an hour, pushing yourself to the max, refusing to give your screaming and aching limbs a break. Your muscles contracted and your arms and legs felt like they'd fall off at any minute but you continued going nonetheless, the aching pains that feeling like a million tiny needles stabbing at every inch of your body. Training was probably the worst thing to do for your leg, but the bullet wound was the last thing on your mind at the moment.

I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness? Because one of those things is going to be the death of you someday.

You put the entire team into jeopardy.

You almost ruined this mission.

You punched the bag harder, feeling your knuckles cracking and blood running down your fingers, fresh bruises beginning to form underneath. Steve had never been this harsh towards you before, and you started wondering if he really was right about the fact that you almost ruined everything.

Yet you still didn't understand why he had to be so overprotective all the time.

"What are you doing? You shouldn't be training, or else that leg won't recover."

At the sound of his voice all his words came flooding back. Your heart began racing and your blood boiled as you stopped what you were doing and looked up at him.

"Leave me the hell alone."

Steve ignored your words and took several steps forward, stopping just a few feet away from where you stood.

"You're bleeding," he said in a surprisingly soft voice.

"I'm fine," you snapped. "Now go away."

"Come on, just—" he pleaded, voice sounding broken, "just let me bandage your hands up for you."

Knowing he wasn't going to leave, you slid down against the wall and let out a defeated sigh, allowing him to kneel in front of you and take your hands in his. The feeling of his rough, callused skin against yours despite the frustration coursing through your veins still sent a little spark up your fingers, and you never hated yourself more for it than you did now.

You briefly scanned over his features, taking note of his tired and red eyes and the crease between his eyebrows as he carefully disinfected your wounds.

"Y/N," he finally spoke up after several minutes of silence, as he finished bandaging up your hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said."

"Okay." You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing you would break down the second you looked back up into his bright blue eyes.

"Y/N," his voice broke, the sound making your heart twist in your chest. "Please look at me, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart," you muttered. "I'm so sorry," he repeated again, "I don't think you're stupid and that you jeopardized the team. You saved us all, in fact. I really shouldn't have said any of that to begin with."

You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the salty tears roll down your cheeks and into your mouth, and you choked on a sob as you finally forced yourself to meet his gaze, breaking down.

"Then why did you act the way you did?"

"It was wrong of me," he exhaled, "I...look, I'm just worried about you, because if that extraction did go wrong and something happened to you, I'd feel like it was all on me. I'd feel like it was my fault, because I failed to look out for you. And I don't think I can handle being responsible for your death."

"As much as you hurt me," you said as you stood up and were pulled into his arms, voice muffled by the fabric of his T-shirt, "I could never bring myself to actually hate you."

"I just care about you too much, I can't lose you," he murmured into your hair, arms tightening their grip around your waist. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," you mumbled, voice muffled by his T-shirt, "I forgive you."

"I love you," he whispered so quietly that he thought you wouldn't catch what he was saying, but you just barely managed to hear it. But honestly, he didn't care. You couldn't help the smile forming on your face at that moment. "I love you too."

"Oh my god, that tension was fucking killing me," Bucky groaned as the doors to the gym burst open, and he and Sam came inside. "I was about to explode if you guys didn't kiss and make up." "Oh uh, also, Y/N, your leg..." Sam pointed out. You and Steve both looked down to see blood seeping through the thick bandaging wrapped around your thigh.

"Well, shit," you choked out. "Oops."

"Language," Steve joked. "Come on. Let's go to Bruce so we can get that treated."

"Don't have too much fun with each other!" the two men called after you.

"Shut up!" you shouted back.

#avengers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #marvel fic #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fic #captain america fic

410 notes · View notes

omgyouatetheprincess · 3 years

Text

Rain ⟿ prinxiety

I was listening to Rain by Ben Platt (which you need to listen to because it’s truly amazing) and I couldn’t stop imagining Roman and Virgil dancing along to it, so I wrote something for it :)

pairing ⟿ romantic virgil/roman

plot ⟿ During a storm, sometimes it's safer to not hide under trees, and instead dance under the rain. Roman and Virgil have a fight, but there may be one way to salvage their relationship

warnings ⟿ censored cursing (like three times maybe), mentioned past roceit and anxceit, unsympathetic!Deceit

word count ⟿ 4382

ao3 link ⟿ https://archiveofourown.org/works/29260683

If he could literally glare daggers, Virgil's ceiling would be gone beyond repair. As Derek Sanders sang the chorus of 'I'd Hate To Be You When People Find Out What This Song Is About' with raw emotion, Anxiety huffed and blinked back angry tears. He shouldn't be here, he should be on that date he had set up, but no - something just had to go wrong. Something always had to go wrong. That's just how things work when you think you have a chance at happiness. It happened with Janus, and Virgil was an idiot to think it wouldn't happen with Roman.

Roman, as annoying and boisterous as he was, had managed to intrude his way into Virgil's heart over the many months he had been trying to court the former dark side, and the latter gave in. Whether because he was curious, bored, or actually developed feelings for the prince, Virgil didn't know why but he agreed to go on a date with his pursuer. One date turned into two, two turned into five, and soon six months had flown by of them dating. Sometimes Creativity set them up in the Mindpalace, where his only limitation was himself, or they settled for simple movie nights in each other's rooms. Either way, Roman was the one who always put in the effort, and for once Virgil felt motivated to plan something special, it being their 'anniversary' and all (though he refused to acknowledge it as that).

But when you light a fire in the woods, it's bound to burn down.

Figuratively, of course. There was no literal fire, but there may as well be considering how burnt Virgil felt on the inside. All it really took was the smallest ember, something so small you wouldn't think it would be a problem. In fact, something so small that in all the anger he was in after, Anxiety forgot what the first spark was - all he remembered was the smoke and then the flames.

"Just move on, dude! Janus lies to everyone, it's literally who he is." Virgil yelled, getting annoyed at how many times Roman mentioned the snake. The two had a ... messy relationship, to say the least, though no one, not even the two involved, knew exactly what, but then the princely side dropped Miss Lie-gon one day. He realized Deceit was playing him all along, big surprise to no one else, and when Lee and Mary Lee tied the knot, Roman and Janus severed their ties. They weren't together, or even go on dates, but the selfish serpent would flirt with the prideful prince, butter him up, and Roman soaked it all up like a sponge. Being told exactly what he wanted to hear made it easy to trick him, even if the two had the same goal - the callback.

Roman scoffed as his hand flew to his chest. "Move on? You have no idea what I'm going through." He screamed back, just as annoyed at the audacity of the man in front of him, the man who set up a blanket fort in Roman's room to surprise him with a movie night, which had now been abandoned admist all the crossfire and was starting to cave in, spilling popcorn all over the floor, making a crackling background noise to their fight.

It was Virgil's turn to scoff, and he threw his arms in the air, feigning defeat. "Well, f*ck me gently with a chainsaw, you're right! It's not like Deceit and I have a history or anything, it's not like we were in a relationship before you two were or anything, it's not like he made me feel like gum on the bottom of his shoe or anything!" Sarcasm dripped from his words as he ranted and raved. "Oh wait, except all of that did happen, so I know exactly what you're going through. But do you see me still bringing him up after months?"

Neither Logan nor Patton know what compelled Virgil to leave the others, though Patton was convinced it was because Virgil had a fear of the dark, but after weeks of getting closer, Virgil entrusted Roman enough to tell him. Deceit loved the attention, and would usually seek it from Virgil since Remus could be, well, a bit much at times, but that led to Virgil thinking they were dating. However, Janus only cared about one side and that was himself. He was never emotionally there for Virgil, would insult him but not in the joking way like Roman did, and was overall a sh*tty person to be around. Virgil felt worse and worse with each day and knew that it was affecting Thomas too, so he made the decision to leave the source of his problems. It was tough since he had depended on Janus for a while, but when the Light Sides showed Virgil real love, only then did he realize that what he went through with Deceit wasn't healthy, and that he never wanted to feel like that again.

And that was why it took Roman months to score a date with Virgil. He didn't want to make another mistake like before. Anxiety knew Roman was different than Janus, and literally had hundreds of love letters telling him how much Roman wanted to be with him, cared about him, wanted to make him the Chemical to his Romance, but knew that one day the sh*t would hit the fan again.

Roman spat that Virgil was just like Janus, then there was more screaming from both of them before Virgil kicked down the last of the derelict blanket fort and sunk out into his room. And that was where he stayed for the rest of the night and the following day.

His playlist of angsty, angry songs that he was saving for a rainy day finally fulfilled its purpose. Music had always calmed Virgil, or at least made him feel better, but now it somehow made him feel... lost. Whenever Virgil had anxiety attacks or was feeling like a trash bin overflowing with waste, Roman would sing to him to ease his mind. So now, music just made Virgil miss his prince.

Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional played for the fourth time, and Virgil tore off his black headphones, throwing them and his phone down onto the messy clothes pile on his floor. His head fell into his hands, wanting nothing more than to go back in time - to stop the fight or stop the dating, he wasn't sure which one. Or maybe just to stop himself from getting rid of his music because the silence was overbearing.

Well, almost silence.

Virgil heard knocking at his door, and felt himself pale. His throat felt raw from screaming Paramore into his pillow all night, but he still cleared it and looked up from his hands.

"Who is it?" He hated how broken his voice sounded. There was no response. "Hello?" Still none. Groaning, Virgil stood on two shaky legs, feeling light-headed, and approached the door like a dear might approach a man with a net and gun. Half of him hoped Creativity wasn't on the other side, while the other half prayed it was.

Slowly, he unlocked the door and opened it the tiniest bit to see who was interrupting his moping, but there was no one there. Confused, Virgil opened it a little more, and a movement caught his eye - the flapping of paper. Someone had taped a folded piece of paper to his door. Taking the note, Anxiety anxiously looks up and down the corridor before retreating back inside his room.

The paper was pink and smelled like strawberries, just like all the love letters Virgil had stuffed into a box underneath his bed, which meant it was from the same sender. Did he dare read it?

Chewing his lip, he contemplated unfolding it. Meanwhile, another side was just as nervous as he was about the note.

Roman sat on a throne he had temporarily summoned in the Mindpalace and bounced his leg. Why did he think this was a good idea? He had ruined everything with Virgil, why would Anxiety want to see him again? It seemed like a good idea half an hour ago, but now Princey had the tightest knot in his stomach from the anticipation.

The idea first came to him when he was rewatching Ben Platt's Netflix special to comfort him. The Broadway actor's songs felt special to the theatre kid since he related Virgil and their relationship to them. But one song in particular stood out this time. The words alone contributed to their lives, but the chorus prompted a thought in Creativity's head. Anxiety had once said that, as sappy as it was, he'd love to dance in the rain one day, but Roman knew his hair would get messed up so they never did it.

But if Roman's stormcloud wanted to dance in the rain, then that's exactly what he'll do.

Digging out the special paper he used to write love letters to his crush, Roman wrote in a purple glitter pen:

"Please meet me in the Mindpalace ASAP. - Princey"

Princey didn't bother writing an apology, figured it would mean more if it was in person, and used the nickname Virgil had given him. Then, leaving the fallen down mess of blankets in his room, he stuck the note to Virgil's door, knocked a few times to get his attention, and hightailed it to his second favourite place, his corner of the Mindpalace - his first favourite being Virgil's room.

And that was where Roman waited for his Night in Black Armour, his mind filled with doubts and words he shouldn't have said. He tried to distract himself by going over his plan mentally, but his intrusive regrets repeatedly made themselves known. He tried to rehearse his apology, but his insecurities reminded him that he didn't deserve forgiveness.

How much time had passed? Roman summoned a small pocket watch, which showed that an hour had passed since he arrived. Did Virgil not read the note, or worse, did he ignore what was written? Sighing, the prince on the brink of tears stood up, and was about to sink out, when something felt different all of a sudden. Being the controller of this part of the Mindpalace, Creativity could tell who was in there and what they summoned, and right now he wasn't alone in there.

"Where're you going, Roman?" A bitter voice called out, but when Roman looked around the town he had created, he couldn't see the person it belonged to. "Got something better to do?" The snide voice that was full of hatred and fire that hadn't quite yet been put out seemed to be all around Roman, almost as if to taunt him. It had been so rare that Virgil used his name instead of a nickname, and it hurt more than it should have. Did Virgil come just to break him more (which he felt he fully deserved), or was the prince imagining it?

With a wave of his hand, Creativity got rid of his throne and a small hopeful smile blessed his face. "You're here." He breathed, not sure if it was a statement or a question.

As if to answer, a figure emerged from the shadows behind one of the buildings and looked around, admiring the scene. Or just avoiding eye contact. Roman had created a town at night, the lampposts illuminating the cobble streets with a soft purple lighting, giving the scene a gentle magenta aesthetic. They were on a long winding road, but behind Roman was a big, open town square with a fountain.

Still not looking at Roman directly, Virgil cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "Let's just get this over and done with, I haven't screamed my lungs out to All I Wanted yet." He joked humorlessly. Truth be told, the moping side wasn't exactly sure why he had come, wasn't sure what he was expecting.

After working up the courage to read the note, Virgil sat and started at the curly handwriting for what felt like an eternity, but honestly was however long 'The Ice Is Getting Thinner' by Death Cab for Cutie was. There was nothing Virgil wanted right then more than to see the side he had grown attached to, but the worst case scenarios were of course the first thing he thought of. Maybe Roman would humiliate him in front of Logan and Patton, maybe banish him back to the dark sides (he was dramatic like that, so it was definitely a possibility), or maybe he would take mercy on poor Anxiety and just end whatever they had by telling him how much he hated him.

Roman had traits in common with Janus, but while they were Janus' flaws, they were what made Roman great. His stubbornness was the reason Virgil took a chance on him, which led to the happiest days of his life, his confidence made Virgil start to love himself too, and his passion for things he loved made every date, or even just every day, an adventure. And Virgil would rather throw himself into Oogie Boogie's lair than let someone as incredible as Roman go.

Letting out a relieved breath and smiling like Hamilton when Eliza forgives him, Princey took a few cautious steps towards Virgil, even though he was still a few buildings away from him. "Okay, but first - we're gonna need these." He snapped his fingers, and a raincoat appeared on both of them.

The sudden change startled Virgil a little, and he jumped slightly before looking down at his outfit. The coat was semi-opaque and tinted violet with his logo patterned on, which was similar to Roman's, which was red with his own emblem. Anxiety looked up at Creativity, raising an eyebrow, but before he could ask what they were for, a song began playing from somewhere. Having listened to an album that reminded him of his prince a thousand times, Virgil recognized it straight away.

"You say you've been through this before, you gave away all your secrets to someone who up and left you in pieces," The dramatic side began singing, and Virgil had to stop himself laughing - of course Roman would try and win him back by serenading him. He sang the next line, looking a little bashful. "I know the feeling, believe me.

"I know the prices you gotta pay, I'm sacrificing my freedom and all just to get somebody to see me. Nobody said it was easy." Every so words, Roman would take a step closer towards Virgil, who would occasionally take a step back.

Pretending not to notice, a humble smile replaced Princey's (rare) serious face, and he put a little more zazz into his movements, almost like dancing. "My heart's been broken and broken and broken and broken, but I keep-keep on hoping and hoping and hoping and hoping that if it keeps on breaking and breaking and breaking and breaking then one day it'll open and open and open and open and open for you-"

You'd have to be a robot, or Logan, to resist laughing at how ridiculous Roman looked right now, and Virgil was too stubborn to show that he was entertained, so he turned slightly to hide his face. If the literal embodiment of pride and ego was willing to make a fool of himself like this, it must have meant he was serious, right?

"Hey!" Stopping his 'walking', Roman stood in the middle of the street with his arms out, and the emo turned to look at him again. "I know we've both been afraid! But we can't run from the wind and the thunder when we're dancing under the rain, the rain, the rain!"

On the appropriate lyrics, the wind picked up a little and the faint rumbling of thunder could be heard. The storm could be a metaphor for their current situation, but maybe they could ignore the conflict by just enjoying the moment. On the third 'rain', the grey clouds littering the night sky began to weep on the quiet town, and Virgil couldn't help but gasp and flinch at the coldness, not that he minded. Flipping the hood up over his head, mostly worried about the eyeshadow he reapplied a few minutes ago, the darkly-dressed side was suddenly glad he swapped his usual ripped jeans for some comfy sweatpants.

However, Mr. Perfection seemed completely unaffected, not even bothering to cover his 'award-winning' hair. He walked towards Anxiety, who was hugging himself, and stopped when he was within arms reach. "Hey! I know we got what it takes. Ain't gonna run from the wind and the thunder when we're dancing under the rain-" Roman extended a hand towards Virgil, who looked down at it like it was both a lifeline and the shark in the waves. "The rain-" Cautiously testing the waters, Virgil put his small, pale hand in Roman's soft and slighter tanned one. "The rain! We're dancing under the rain!"

Pulling his stormcloud closer, Virgil didn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips, which caused Roman to join in too while slowly moving backwards with a spring in his stride. This wasn't going up in flames like either of them feared it would. Not to mention, Virgil was smiling again - dear Fairy Godmother, his smile was the sappy romantic's Kryptonite, and his immortality.

"Breathe deep, let it wash over you." It was almost getting hard to sing while Roman was beaming enough to light up a stadium, but he continued, leading the man he was hopelessly devoted to into the centre of the town with lots of free open space. Virgil did what the lyrics told him to, taking a deep breath, and when he exhaled he let all his worries, all the negativity he had been feeling just flow right off of him. He immediately felt better. "We're slowly becoming lovers, I promise you we won't be like the others."

The rainfall went from a trickle to a pour, but neither of them minded. It was true they had been getting closer over the past few months, and as much as Virgil tried to ignore it, he was falling in love with Roman, something he never would have expected. At first, it scared him how quickly these strong emotions came, but now he fully intended on embracing them. He wanted to show how he felt, show that he wasn't mad anymore and that he was sorry for what he said too, show that he wasn't afraid of being with Roman.

As the other side sang the next line, Virgil reached up to run his hand through the fairest prince's hair as joined in with a loud, confident voice.

"We won't go running for cover!"

It clearly took Roman aback slightly, who's eyes widened and smile spread from ear-to-ear. Taking advantage of his speechlessness, the shy side used the lyrics to convey how he felt too.

Imitating the little dance/walk Creativity did earlier, Anxiety guided him backwards, grinning like a true man in love. Which was exactly what he was. "My heart's been broken and broken and broken and broken, but I keep-keep on hoping and hoping and hoping and hoping that if it keeps on breaking and breaking and breaking and breaking then one day it'll open and open and open and open and open for you-"

It didn't take long for them to get into the wide area, and when they did, the lights changed from a purple hue to an intimate pink. A mischievous smirk graced Virgil's slightly red face, and as he yelled the next word, he jumped in a puddle, splashing himself but mostly Princey, whose jaw dropped. "Hey! I know we've both been afraid..."

"But we can't run from the wind and the thunder when-" Getting over his initial shock, the song turned into a duet, with both of the sides singing from their hearts. Roman took both of the usually dismal side's hands and began to swing the two men around in circles. "We're dancing under the rain, the rain, the rain!"

And that's exactly what they did. Together, they danced under the pouring rain as they continued to sing together, not caring about the puddles they were stomping in or the cold they weren't feeling - only each other. "Hey! I know we got what it takes, ain't gonna run from the wind and the thunder when we're dancing under the rain, the rain, the rain. We're dancing under the rain!"

They say that couples should finish each other's sentences, but Virgil and Roman were above that. As the song broke into two parts, the prince and the panic perfectly completed it, with the theatrical Thomas Sanders side taking the over-the-top part and the more modest mental-physical personality singing backup, which he didn't mind. Either way, they completed each other.

"Broken and broken and broken and broken, but I keep, keep on hopin' and hopin' and hopin' and hopin' that if it keeps on breakin' and breakin' and breakin' and breakin' then one day it'll open and open and open and open and open for you."

"We're dancing under the rain! Dancing under the rain, woah!"

Perfectly, the two voices joined to finish the last two choruses together. They were in unison, almost like they were one, and the dancing only got more in sync, with added twirls and footwork - Roman and Virgil danced like no one was watching, just the storm clouds above and the moon in all her glory.

Virgil would swear on his Fall Out Boy vinyls that he had never been happier in his existence, which is saying something for the embodiment of anxiety. He had never had someone cared for him like this before, and he had never not hated someone so much. As someone with a crippling fear of judgement from others, he sure was pretty carefree at that moment, spinning in the rain with a prince, both of them drenched to their cores.

If someone asked Roman to describe how he felt in that moment, he wouldn't be able to say - the moment was indescribable and he would give up all his playbills to frame it and hang it in a museum like the priceless artifact it was. It could be argued that, as well as creativity, he could represent romanticism and romance in general, which meant he was easily prone to developing strong feelings, but what he felt for the emo constantly on his mind didn't need a reason for him to know it was real and the greatest feeling he never wanted to let go.

The tension was rising, and they were both excited to finish the song, because even though this brought them so much more closer than ever before, they both wanted to see what would happen at the end.

"-We're dancing under the rain." Virgil had stopped singing, and while Roman continued, he stared at the man in front of him, the man he loved with his whole emo being. "The rain," Those lips, slightly pink from the cold, were like a siren lulling in this helpless sailor. And he wanted to drown at the hands of it. "The rain, we're dancing under the-"

Roman never sang that last word. Before he could, Virgil grabbed the front of his raincoat and pulled him towards him, pressing their lips together. Fireworks exploded somewhere, whether they were literally there or not neither of them were sure, but the sparks were electrifying. The rain didn't only stop, but the free-falling droplets froze in the air around the couple. It was like the whole Earth stopped for them to savour their first kiss.

It was perfect for Anxiety and Creativity. It didn't matter if the former had slightly chapped lips, it didn't matter if the latter still had his arms awkwardly out mid-dance, the kiss was the most perfect thing to either of them. Maybe they both were sappy for each other. Finally, Roman moved his arms to Virgil's shoulders, then felt the other's hands on his waist, holding him close.

Eyes closed, chests warm and time stopped, their lips moved purposefully together with the passion of a great typhoon and the sweetness of a petal on a stream. Fifteen seconds felt like fifteen lifetimes together, and when they unfortunately but inevitably had to resurface for air, their faces could light up all of America with how much they were smiling. Virgil rested his forehead slightly on top of Roman's (he loved teasing that he would be a little taller than the prince if he didn't slouch so much) and let out the lightest laugh.

"So you're not mad at me anymore?" The insecure side asked, looking bashfully at the emo he had just serenaded and got his self-proclaimed 'Vogue-worthy' hair messy for - at the exact time that said emo spoke.

"I love you."

Instead of replying, Roman's eyes widened to the size of magic mirrors and he held his breath, almost as if he was scared to make another sound and hear Virgil take it back. But he didn't. "I'm sorry, I know you probably really wanted to say it first, but I was scared I'd run away before saying it, which-" Clearly, Anxiety was having a fight with himself about whether he should take flight, and Roman held him impossibly closer to keep him safe in his arms.

"I love you so much."

Virgil's rambling came to a swift end, and he stared into the other's eyes after he confessed that to try and see if there was any sign of deception, and when he realized there wasn't, he pounced forward for another kiss. Hearing those words had lifted so much weight off of both of their shoulders. This kiss was shorter this time, mostly because Roman pulled away. He lifted his arm and sneezed into the crook on his elbow, and realized they were still out in the cold rain, which was falling normally again.

They both laughed, and Virgil held out a hand. "Come on, let's get out of here. His royal sickness can recover in his room, right after we rebuild that blanket fort,"

#prinxiety #virgil sanders #roman sanders #unsympathetic janus #unsympathetic deceit #past roceit #past anxceit #ben platt #song fic #dancing in the rain #kissing in the rain #angst to fluff #prinxiety angst

61 notes · View notes

stevevans · 3 years

Text

champagne problems - j.p

so i’ve been listening to champagne problems on repeat, and that’s what inspired this fic. i’ll be completely honest with y’all and say that this fic doesn’t really resemble the song, but it was inspired by it.

summary: life and love don’t always mix.

pairings: james potter x reader

warnings: mild cursing, kissing, familial issues, angst, mild violence

category: angst and fluff

word count: 1,760

Requests are always OPEN

You had been effectively graduated from Hogwarts for seven days, one week. The summer of 1978 was deemed to be absolutely ‘perfect’ by James Potter.

Everyone was excited for the trip through the country, but you only had one thing on your mind. The mark your parents wanted you to get.

Being born in a Pureblood family, regardless of House meant you had values to uphold.

Growing up your Family ignored Pure-blood rhetoric, just wanting to raise you to be a kind, courageous and good person. Things changed somewhere along the way. You forgot when your Mother went from a happy, caref-free witch to bloodshot eyes and proper customs, her mark visible even under her dark clothes, the aura prominent.

Hogwarts sheltered you and your group of friends, kept you all safe from much of the war brewing outside.

It wasn’t until the Summer before your final year when you had to face the truth.

╚═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╝

Dropping your bags by the door your Mother embraced you, taking in the smell of your hair. You could tell something was off, the Manor was silent, not a sound besides the scurrying of House Elves trying to grab your bags.

“My Dear! You’re here, please sit in the Parlor we have so much to discuss!”

You were confused, but followed your Mum until you could sit.

“I need you to listen very carefully. Your Father is at Malfoy Manor. We’ve joined the fight, and we as a family pledged our allegiance to the Dark Lord.”

Even with her careful speaking you were still in shock, your mouth hanging open, all you could think about was Sirius. How he got away, maybe you could too. Every thought abandoned your mind, swirling around like a Tornado as your Mother continued speaking,

“He wants you to get the mark. After you graduate, you will be expected to kneel before our Lord and thank him.”

You shook your head viciously, so hard you thought your head would spin.

“No!”

It came out harsh as you stood up, scraping the chair against the floors. Your palms hit the table as you looked up in anger.

“Is this why Malfoy kept trying to talk to me? Because my own Parents are now filthy Death-Eaters?!”

Your Mother stood up too, lifting your chin up to strike you, the breath leaving your body as your eyes filled with tears.

“You will not talk to me like that in my own home. Lucius is a wonderful man, and we had hoped you both would find your way to each other. The Potter’s boy is quite laughable, and we figured it would resolve itself on its own. Clearly we were wrong and you live in your Hogwarts fantasy world still. You will be listening to me, I just thought I would try and be nice. It seems you needed to learn the hard way. This is not up for debate.”

With those words she left swiftly, leaving you in a puddle of your own tears and questions.

╚═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╝

James Potter was the love of your life, that you knew.

Ever since you sat down beside him at the Gryffindor table at eleven you knew he would be it for you. A lopsided grin and tousled hair, that was your James.

As time wore on you both just fell together. As you both grew, so did the love you share. Setting your relationship in stone was never important, you were James and Y/N, that’s how it always was.

Until one day in 6th year, when Lucius Malfoy approached you, the same smirk he always wore embedded in his face.

“What do you want?” Your tongue had always been sharp, especially for such a bully as he was.

“Wait to go tell him off love!” James was laughing, getting Sirius and Peter to join in on his laughter as you rejected Malfoy.

Suddenly his hand brushed the hair from your face, his smirk softening,

“Little Lamb caught in the crossfire. I see I’m bothering, I was just hoping you’d accompany me to dinner with my family one night?”

You sneered, throwing daggers at him, “Never in a million years.”

“My dear y/n, sometimes words have a way of backfiring on us.” He always acted as if he had something over you, but his posture quickly straightened back up and his hand left your proximity,

“Have a good night Y/Ns, enjoy your time.”

With that he was gone and you were confused. When you looked up, James was gone, the two boys shrugging as Remus pointed to the exit.

You went to search for James, the pit of despair in your stomach growing with every step you took.

“James Fleamont Potter if you don’t come here!” You yelled, exasperatedly, throwing your arms up in a huff.

“Why did you talk to him?!” It was less of a question, more of an angry accusation.

“James what?” you were confused now, who was he talking about?

“Malfoy! You spoke to him for more time than we agreed on talking to stupid Pure-blood Supremacists! We all agreed 5 minutes or less, no more.” His arms crossed over his chest as you stared in disbelief.

“James what? Did you not listen to the conversation? He was trying to ask me out and I said no.” James grinded your gears more than anyone else you knew, his face turning with thoughts.

“Be my Girlfriend.” He spoke casually now, his shoulders dropping all of the anger he had, his expression softening.

“Wait what?” You sighed in disbelief,

“You heard me. Nobody, especially not Pureblood scum will ask you out if you’re officially my Girlfriend. I originally assumed I didn’t have to ask you out, since everyone knows we're together.” That was the first you’d heard of it.

“Do you need me to spell it out l/n?” As he spoke his next sentence he got closer with every step,

“Be.My.Girlfriend.”

“I was jealous of Malfoy, and I know we're already together, I mean Godric was practically married, but I got so angry seeing him with you, and I want to be with you, officially, right now. You’re my girl, and I want everyone to know officially.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, nodding. You had been so upset with him, for no reason, but it had all melted away with the simple question of being his. You were his, you wanted to be his.

“Of course. I was waiting.” You closed the space between the both of you, your lips on his as you pulled James your boyfriend deeply into the kiss.

╚═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╝

Dorcas Meadows, Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, Remus Lupin, Alice Fortescue, Frank Longbottom, Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black, you and James Potter were on your summer vacation.

Driving down the winding roads in one car with a nifty enlarging spell as your friends argued over the muggle music played while you and James sang along to it all.

He had insisted on driving, you in the passenger seat beside him, holding onto his free hand. All you could do was smile as you took him in, the love of your life.

You feel sick most of the time, looking at all of your Best friends, your scared best friends, the ones who fear for their life and fear for the future, and you feel sick. There was a war bubbling, almost ready to explode.

None of them knew the secret you were keeping. They all kept James’ secret though.

It had been two weeks of non stop traveling and fun for all of you, the journey ending in one last night in the middle of a field, a campfire with all of your friends around it. A few bottles of champagne shared amongst all of you.

It had to be around midnight when James stood up tipsily, holding out his hand to you, that same grin on his face as he begged you to dance.

So you took his hand, your hands taking his as he pulled you closer, your head resting on his shoulder.

You wanted to stay like that forever, your friends laughing in the background as you danced to the sounds of crackling fire, the wind and Lily and Alice making fun of you two for being ‘disgustingly adorable!’

“I love you.”

“I know dear.”

“No I really, really love you.” His pocket was too heavy all of the sudden, as he pulled away. “Like the I love you more than I love Quidditch, and more than my Cloak which I totally used to spy on you when we were in 5th year.”

Your eyes went wide as you looked at him, what in Godric’s name was he doing?

“James what?”

“Let me speak woman! I love you.”

“James I know that but what are you talking abou-” He interrupted you, something he was notorious for. As your heart grew heavier with anxiety, he became more confident, the champagne padding his words.

“I love you more than I love getting into trouble, and more than messing with Snape. I love you more than crunching leaves in the Fall, more than every single time I wiped a smirk off of Minnie’s face, I love you Y/N. I am completely and utterly in love with you.”

“James no, please.” Your voice was small, begging him to stop. You couldn’t take this. Your heart cracking.

He pulled out a box, shaking. Pulling it open as he dropped to a knee in the field his eyes looked up to you, a grin on his face, tears filling in his eyes.

It was his Mum’s engagement ring. Euphemia Potter’s engagement ring that had been in the family for centuries, a gorgeous mix of stones set in a thinner style band. You had admired it when you met her, a knowing smile on her face as you complimented it.

“Even if there was no war, or no bad guy, or no promise for the future I would still be here, on my knee, asking you Y/F/N to marry me. Because I know, and this is one of the only things I can be sure of, is that I love you and I will love you for, forever. The only question is, will you? Will you love me for the rest of your days?”

You wanted to scream yes, to pull him up and kiss him until your lips were blue, hear all of your friends whoop and cheer for the two of you, but you dropped his hand, the tears falling from your face.

#james potter imagine #james potter x reader #james potter x you #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #marauders fanfiction #marauders imagine #marauders x reader

89 notes · View notes