bro fuckinf MOON KNIGHT? fucking MOON KNIGHT IS WHAT DOES IT??????????
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People are too accepting of shit like everything being appified and turned into a device
People are too accepting of yet another shit quality streaming service
People are just too fucking willing to be good little consumer whores with shit and man... I just don't get it, cause I don't think it's a matter of them being stupid or something, but fuck are people willing to buy into really shit systems at the drop of a hat
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kinda funny seeing that last queued tf post with me gushing in the tags abt the comic bc i havent felt joy or even an emotional connection reading mtmte for a while
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Curiosity Killed The Cat
prompt: after rescuing you from kidnappers, you overhear your boyfriend-turned-savior complain about how clingy you've become.
pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x female!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 5.1k+
note: author wants things out of her drafts! also don't take this fic too seriously, it's not much at all - just me writing for the fuck of it until i'm ready to focus on my bigger projects.
warnings: modern AU, Mafia AU, obvious cursing, small hurt and comfort, brief depiction of physical violence and self-destruction in the form of: loss of appetite, lack of sleep, other symptoms of depression. NOT edited! author is ashamed because she knows she can give you something better but oh well.
browse the Clingy Baby collection masterlist here
Your feet planted, jarring you to a halt the moment you heard your name in a conversation you were not apart of.
You heard the hammering of your heart, echoing beats of your blood pumping with harrowing desperation. Hands turned cold and clammy, sweat breaking out on your brow and then freezing, feeling as if your throat had swollen to a new restriction and you were anchored in you in place.
Rooted.
But for now, all you could identify was the paralyzing anxiety that anchored you to your spot and made your heartbeat thunder in your ears. You stood outside the lounge, unable to comprehend relevant thought; still listening to low, docile tones continue their conversation, but you couldn't hear real words.
You were stunned. Panicked, confused, hurt - so very hurt. That seemed to register, too; you were really, really hurt.
This was perhaps why curiosity killed the cat.
You reprimanded yourself for listening in - transporting back to childhood during all the times your parents would scold you for eavesdropping. You knew it was wrong, you knew this was a private conversation meant to be shared between trusting confidants, but you couldn't help it - you heard your name and stopped. It was natural, right? To feel curious regarding a conversation seemingly about you that you, yourself, was not apart of?
Curiosity, indeed.
Blinking rapidly, you remembered the only other time you felt such mounting, pressurized fear, and while it might be dramatic, the only other time you could remember this level of anxiety was from about two months ago...
"Yes, baby, I got the bacon."
"And the jalapeños?"
"Uh-huh, the biggest they had."
"Cream cheese?"
"Do you know who you're talking to?" You laughed into the phone. "I'm a professional housewife by now, you can relax. I got all you needed for your fancy little dinner experiment."
Bucky laughed down the phone, "Oh, please, like I didn't see you salivating when we watched the segment on Top Chef."
"Hush," you laughed, too. "I'm leaving the store now," you told him, pushing out of the heavy glass doors, "and should be home in, like, 10 minutes?"
"Lemme pick you up."
"I have legs to walk with, so, no thank you."
He sighed, "Well, I'll open the wine to let it breathe. Red's still good?"
"Let's do a white tonight, please."
"Good deal," he mused softly. "Hey, I was thinking earlier - "
"Hang on," you pleaded.
"What's wrong?"
"No, nothing. There's just a van slowing down, I don't want to get hit," you chuckled some, looking up and down the street before crossing. "Sorry, so, what were you thinking?"
"We haven't been to Paris in months."
You smirked, "I'm sure our plants in the apartment are dead by now."
Bucky laughed, "Oh, I am, too. But, look, how 'bout it, Peach? You, me, all the croissants we can consume this weekend. I'll take Monday and Tuesday off, we can leave tomorrow night."
"Oh, that sounds nice," you moaned. "Paris in the spring? Baby, that's so dreamy!"
"So, is that a yes?"
"It's a hell yes," you grinned. "Do you know the weather?"
"Supposed to be nice and sunny, not too warm or cold. Figured this would be ideal," he chuckled. "But does the weather matter if we're in bed the whole time?"
"No, we're not wasting our time!" You laughed. "We're gonna go do shit, okay? Stereotypical tourist-couple shit."
"I'll bring the camera."
"And I was hoping we could have dinner at that little place we love?"
"I wouldn't take you anywhere else," he mused.
"I think it's - FUCK!" Bucky froze when he heard the screeching of tires; a van coming up to a skidding halt, flurry of voices all yelling but he heard yours clearly. "No, no, no, hey, hey, what the hell's happening? Hey! What's this - hey, hey! Don't touch me! Ow, shit! No! Hey! Fuck's sake - oh, my God! Ow! Hey!"
"Baby!? Peach! Hey! The fuck's going on!?"
There was a thudding over the phone, and Bucky listened to more struggling - more fidgeting and fighting - and then the slamming of a car door. Still calling your name, Bucky heard a scrape over the line before a different voice answered your phone, "James Barnes. On behalf of HYDRA, you're overdue on your payment and we warned you there would be consequences. Deliver the full amount of 17 million - "
"It's 15," he growled.
"Two million more for the inconvenience of stalking your woman."
"If you even so much as touch her, I swear to God - "
"17 million at midnight, at the pier, or every minute you're late, she'll receive the brunt end of our frustration."
"Don't hurt her - "
"Midnight, Mr. Barnes, at the pier - you know where. Don't be late, she looks like she won't last long."
The line went dead after he heard your screech of pain, confusion, and fear. The moment the line cut, he dropped his phone and slowly lowered himself to sit on the kitchen floor, shock coloring his system. It wasn't that he didn't have the money, quite the opposite - but he and his men had a plan in motion to take out HYDRA, their org's competition, and this was totally against all they anticipated. After a minute to sit in his own worry, Bucky jumped to his feet, grabbed his phone, keys, wallet, and two handguns; holstering them both before shrugging his suit jacket on.
He made every phone call he could, gathering the men he trusted most to (one of) his warehouse(s).
For hours, you were strung up by your wrists in a joint-pulling position while the Brooklyn Mafia formulated a plan of attack. It was the most pain you've ever known, but then the abuse started and you were blinded by this new pain. You had bruises most places, cuts that wept blood; scars that would never heal, wounds that wouldn't ever close. You were delirious, miserable, confused, just dazed and confused; praying to a God who didn't listen.
"Oh, look at that," your captor mocked, holding a thick-bladed hunting knife in hand, "it's one minute til midnight, and I don't see your loverboy anywhere."
You sniffled, unable to respond.
He stared out the lone window, tisking and narrating, "Nope, I see not a soul - and with how protective he is over you, you'd think he'd want to ensure your safety. Not leave it to chance, huh?"
You whimpered as the clock struck midnight, your heart hammering in heavy-hung worry. You had tears in your eyes, heart nearly beating out of your chest, feeling incredibly nauseous. The desire to scream never lessened, just fearing what was to come; the men in the room making you fear for the state of your life, their knuckles cracking. You only begged, "Please. Don't."
The main captor laughed, "You can do better than that! C'mon, give me the satisfaction of tellin' ol' James you begged for mercy - but it wasn't enough to sway me. I'll lie, for sure, and say it happened but it will be so much sweeter if you actually do it."
"Please," you shook your head, avoiding eye contact. "Just don't do this, please."
"Oh, honey," he mocked, "it's not our fault he's late. Lads! Have at her, but leave her face for now - she's still real pretty."
You listened as he gave commands in Russian, understanding after the years at Bucky's side; whimpering when the first blow landed to your gut and knocked the wind out of you. The minutes drug by and you felt your resolve crumbling, heart still hammering to a never-before-felt speed that made it feel as if it were jumping out of your very body at every single pulse point. You struggled in your restraints, but it was futile by how tight you were bound; unable to protect yourself.
At 12:03 am, the doors blew open in a resounding blast; concrete crumbling and sprinkling the floor. You cried out as the smoke choked you, coughing through the haze; only barely able to make out certain figures to know Bucky had brought his best men. However, despite the sting to your eyes from the swirling dust and smoke, you saw a lone man stalk through the blasted wall, through the fray, and straight up to you.
"Bu-Bucky!" You choked in relief as he reached to untie your feet first. You dangled for only a moment as his metal prosthetic ripped off whatever held your wrists to the torture contraption. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God, Bucky, holy shit, baby, please, please, please," you rambled as he freed you and instantly caught you on his broad shoulders.
"I got you, Peach, I'm here, I've got you," he promised in your ear, hoisting your legs around his waist so they latched and then wrapping his arms around you securely. "Don't let go and don't look up, okay? Hear me, Peach?"
You nodded into his neck, only able to cry.
Bucky jolted and jerked slightly as he moved through the fight again, but not a minute later, you were stepping outside into the sobering, brisk spring air. This was the moment you understood how dangerous and fleeting life with Bucky could be, making a promise to yourself that if he says take the car, you'll take the fucking car.
And now, here you were, outside the high-rise apartment's lounge (which was just a converted bedroom), listening to your boyfriend complain about you some 2 months after the whole fiasco. HYDRA had been all but wiped out, and in the weeks since, Bucky's men had gone on smaller missions to eradicate the HYDRA members they heard rumor of being local. Yet you didn't feel safe, yet.
You didn't feel safe if you weren't around Bucky.
Everything made you jump: the beep of the done-dryer, that spritz of the automatic fragrance mister in the bathroom, the "duh-dunnn" of a loaded-up Netflix. Keys jingling, car horns, the barking of the dog in the apartment a floor below you... Everything.
Being around Bucky was just like holding a safety blanket. He would always protect you, and for about a week after your rescue, he laid in bed and around the home with you; being lazy; time off work to simply hold you and assure you were safe. Safe in his arms. Safe in his embrace, his presence.
So now... To hear this... You were devastated.
You didn't mean to eavesdrop, it just sort of happened. It was still earlier in the morning, but Bucky hadn't been in bed beside you and based on the feel of the sheets, his body hadn't been there in a while. So, you made some coffee and then ventured around the home in search of your lover; coming upon the lounge and hearing voices from within.
You knew it was common for Steve Rogers and / or Sam Wilson to stay late or visit early, so, you weren't shocked by that, but did falter in announcing yourself when you heard Sam ask how you were doing since the kidnapping. He used your name specifically, making Bucky sigh, and for your curiosity to peak.
"She's different, man."
"How so?" Sam wondered.
"She doesn't like being without me now," he chuckled without humor. "I'm serious, she won't go to the gym until I do, waits to have meals together, won't leave the house if I'm out, and," he scoffed to himself, "you can forget going to the grocery store or anything - she's even stopped going to work - "
"You told her to stop working, like, two years ago when y'all first moved-in together," Sam deadpanned.
"I know," Bucky shrugged, "but it feels tenfold now that she's so reclusive."
"It's normal," Steve sighed gently.
"Yeah? Is it normal that I can't even go take a shit without promising her I'll be right back?" Bucky snapped in exasperation. "It's that bad, she's that fucking clingy, man. I go in the kitchen to make dinner, she's in there 30 seconds later to 'help' me. I take a shower, she finds a reason to linger in the bedroom, but that was better than before, when she wouldn't even shower by herself. It's just a lot, she's everywhere I look. I'm starting to find new reasons not to come home, man, she's always fucking here - and when I walk in the door, she's on me. I need to fucking breathe, but I can't tell her to stop, she'll get her feelings hurt and then I'm the bad guy."
"Man," Steve laughed, "you can't be the bad guy if you go to her in a calm and collected manner, but it's only been two months. She's still recovering."
"Exactly why if I say anything, no matter how calm and collected, I'm the bad guy. I get she's hurting and tryna recover, but Goddamn, does she have to be in every room I'm in? Do everything with me? How do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off? Let me breathe?"
Sam laughed, "You don't! You just said it - she's traumatized! Cut the girl some slack, she's got a lot to fuckin' deal with!"
"I'm not negating from that fact," Bucky argued, "I'm just trying to say, the way she's clinging onto me like she can't function without me is just grating at my nerves. I just need to breathe and recharge, but I can't tell her that - fuck's sake."
"Buck," Steve smirked, "you're worried Peach isn't gonna listen, but that's her literal superpower. Just communicate, she can't read your mind, but you need to remember how traumatic all of that was for her to experience - she's scarred from that kidnapping, man. So, sure, you need to recharge, but she needs the support."
"Is it wrong to ask for a day here and there to do that? To recharge?" Bucky asked quietly.
"If you communicate, it's perfectly reasonable to ask for," Sam assured softly. "And whatever you do, don't tell her you think she's clingy. Chicks hate that, that word is, just, like, taboo or something. Real heavy, negative connotations."
"But she is," Bucky growled quietly, "'s like she's afraid to let go 'cause I'll disappear or something."
"Oh, noooo," Sam mocked, "I'm Bucky and my girlfriend loves me too much and trusts me too much and actually feels safe and dependent on me too much - ohhh noooo!"
There was a thump, Sam's cried, "Ow!", and Bucky telling him to shut up. You slowly backed away from the door, trying to settle your breathing as you made your escape down the hall. When back in the kitchen, you whimpered and let the first tears fall... The first of many you shed in the hour it took you to prepare breakfast for everyone; doing your best to eat as you cooked so you didn't have to linger around the men. You took Bucky's words to heart, and maybe you were too sensitive, maybe you should venture outside again.
So, when the lads came out, you set the table without making eye contact with any of them. "Here," you directed, setting the pancakes down, "I made breakfast, come eat, it's still hot."
"Wow," Sam smiled brightly, "thanks, Peach!"
You hummed, still avoiding their eyes as you just set the abundance of food to the table. "You... Cooked without me?" Bucky asked you with skepticism.
"Mhm," you hummed, setting the coffee pot down to a hot pad, "and I'm going out shopping with Nat, so, eat up, lads, I'll do the dishes when I get home. Love you, boys, bye," you waved them off, snatching your keys and then moving to the door to stuff your feet into your sneakers.
"Woah, woah, woah," Bucky left the table, approaching you urgently, "hey, what do you mean? You're goin' out?"
"Yep, figured I've stayed in too long, might as well get out and remember life doesn't stop just 'cause I'm sad."
"Peach - "
"I'll see you when I get home, Buck, okay?" You mumbled, slinging your purse on your shoulder.
"Well, here, here, hey, wait, hang on," he pulled his wallet out, handing you over a wad of big bills. "Spend it all, okay? Have fun, call or text if you need me, yeah?"
"Sure."
Bucky leaned in to kiss you but you just opened the door, ready to leave. He frowned, watching you, barely managing to call a quick, "Love you!"
You didn't return the sentiment, feeling hallow and all too silly to return the affection. In your purse was your laptop, headphones, chargers, and whatever else, so, instead of meeting your friend, Natasha - being just a ruse to avoid Bucky - you started small and just went to the local café. You used to frequent it back in the day, but times were changed, and yet, they were all the happier to serve you the same as before. Getting cozy in the corner, you set up camp and ordered your favorite coffee basically every other hour - letting the day waste away as you caught up on work emails.
Might've wasted time on Instagram and Facebook and Pinterest.
Got shopping done on Amazon.
Browsed through Target's online selection.
Checked out the sale items at Kate Spade.
Perused Fenty Lingerie because you could.
Before you knew it, a message was coming in over your MacBook from Bucky, asking where you were - why had you turned your location off?
You packed up and with a to-go cup, made the short trek back home. When you got back, Bucky was pacing in the living room; staring at his phone and typing, then deleting, retyping, groaning, glancing up, typing again, then doing a double take. "Where've you been, Peach? Huh!?" Bucky demanded. "You're late!"
"Out with Nat," you eased.
He huffed through his nose, nodding slowly, "You have a nice time?"
"It was okay," you answered. "I'm gonna go to bed after I shower."
His brows furrowed, "I have a meeting tonight."
"I know."
"O...kay?" He let you go, wanting to ask why you didn't ask him to join like you had so often in the past few weeks.
And it didn't stop there, in fact, it got worse. When Bucky got home from his meeting, he was actually shocked to see you nestled in the bed; teetering on the edge of the shared space while snuggling a weighted body pillow.
When he tried to give you a snuggle, you stirred to life and pushed him back, muttering, "Too hot."
The following morning, he was relatively surprised to see you up and about before him; barely getting a word in before you were slipping out the door to go on a morning jog. He was confused by how all of a sudden, where you were once everywhere he looked, now, you were disappeared and distant and gone. You worked out alone, cooked alone - but always left him a plate, but long gone were the cute little sticky notes you left for him. You once haunted the apartment by never wanting to leave, and now, ghosted in and out of it on a daily basis.
You never bothered to go far from home. You liked hanging at the coffee shop and luckily, your job let you work from home most days, and the rare time you were due back in the office, it was only about a 20 minute walk. You got better at lying, couldn't even remember the last time you and Bucky had sex, and even now, the last time you had a meal together. You didn't text him about your day; where you once might've told him about an adorable dog you saw on the street, now, you only ever texted him if he asked a direct question.
Food lost appeal, your appetite vanished.
Sleep evaded you, plaguing you with nightmares when you did rest.
Interest dulled, passions were snuffed, and only fearful, confused anger remained. It showed in the way weight seemed to shift around your body, thinning; the lack of sleep creating dark rings and bags under your bloodshot eyes.
After two weeks of this, Bucky grew irritated and short with everyone around him. It reflected in his work, the way he spoke to everyone; even Steve and Sam getting the brunt end of his anger. Without you to assure him, Bucky was off his rocker; losing his cool; his patience stretched far too thin. So much so, the two mates approached an outside associate, Natasha Romanoff, after a particularly snappy meeting to plead for her to talk to Bucky.
"James," Nat greeted as she strode into his office without knocking.
"I know you're my oldest friend, but you don't have that privilege yet," he mused, never looking up.
"What?"
"Not knocking. What is it, Nat?"
"Just came to check on you, you know, like friends do."
"Hm," he chuckled without humor, "and what did Peach say to you?"
"About...?"
"Me."
"Nothing, I haven't gotten ahold of her for weeks."
Bucky paused, slowly lifting his head in confusion; brows furrowed and mouth set in a firm, straight line. "What?" He grit.
"Huh?" Nat wondered.
"She's been telling me that she's hanging out with you for the past two weeks," he revealed.
"Nope, not since the incident with HYDRA."
Bucky's (right) flesh hand crushed the pen in his grip, taking a long breath. "All right," he sighed, "so, why come today?"
"What's really going on, Buck?" She worried softly. "Is it really whatever's going on with Peach? You're this pissed off? What'd she even do?"
"She just..." He cut himself off with a long sigh. "It's nothing."
"Bucky," Nat gave a pointed look.
"She's just avoiding me," he muttered. "It's like she's barely home, almost like a ghost."
"Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Yes, and no," Bucky snipped, rolling his neck out. "I'm just worried about her now, she's never not communicated before."
"Something's bothering her," Nat shrugged. "She probably needs you right now, Buck."
"I can't do it all," he whispered. "I can't be who she wants and run this organization at the same time."
"She doesn't need that, she just needs you to be her partner," Natasha spoke softly. "She needs to feel loved and supported, and surely, she maybe felt weird about whatever you were projecting. Instead of taking it out on your men," she smirked, "why don't you just talk to her? 'Cause I hear you're bein' a more-than-usual asshole lately. You need to ease up or get laid, 'cause you're taking it out on good, loyal men, and that's entirely unfair."
"They can take it."
"Sure, but they shouldn't have to," Nat rolled her eyes. "Look, since you won't answer me, I'm assuming the sour mood is in regard to whatever relationship issues you have right now?"
"Sure," he tossed the pen away, opened a skinny drawer to his right and select an identical one.
"Bucky," she growled.
He sighed, "She's lying to me, Nat. Saying she's with you when she's not... Is this an affair? She's gone all the time now."
"No way," Nat laughed. "Baby girl doesn't have the energy to entertain anyone - let alone two men. You're just the exception."
"Why lie, then?"
"Maybe she didn't want you questioning her..."
"No shit."
"Well, did you get into a fight?"
"No."
"Any reason she doesn't want to be home?"
He shook his head with a sigh, "Not that I know of."
"You had to do something."
"Honest, I haven't. She was being all clingy, but then one day, a switch flipped."
Nat frowned, "You think... Your girlfriend is being clingy... Because she was kidnapped and beaten up... Because of your fucking job... And is probably scared...out of...her mind...? I get that correct?"
Bucky paused for a long moment, muttering, "Oh, my God."
"Yeah, you asshole. Think of it that way! She's afraid!" Natasha snapped. "And probably picked up on your energy, so, she made herself scarce."
"I didn't mean - "
"I don't care, go home, apologize to that sweet angel - she doesn't deserve this."
Bucky paused, "What is 'this' exactly?"
"James. Focus on the present - your woman. Go make this right. We all know you're this big, bad dude - but it's okay to be a little sensitive towards the woman who loves you without condition!"
Bucky relented, figuring the redheaded Russian mobster was right.
The entire drive home, Bucky considered the ways you had changed in the few, short weeks since he vented to Sam and Steve about your clinginess. You didn't take meals with him, didn't cook, work-out, or do anything you used to do together. Sex? Forget it. Dates? Nope. Cuddling? No, you're always 'too hot'. And when he thought about it, he remembers seeing the wads of cash he'd leave for you stuffed in his sock drawer - surely trying to make him think it was just another emergency fund he had hidden. You never spent his money, feeling humiliated by his choice of words.
Clingy...
You didn't text or call him when he was gone, you hadn't even so much as kissed him in what felt like ages... Well, more like you hadn't initiated any kisses...
His heart weighed in his chest as he realized he hadn't even so much as hugged you in days. You were rarely in the apartment together, and when you were, you were just silent and busy with chores. It was as if you operated on the exact opposite schedule as he did, went to new extents to avoid him, and his heart clenched in his chest.
When he got home, you were caught cooking in the kitchen - being obvious that you weren't expecting him. The door slammed and his baritone voice snapped, "Peach!"
You gulped, holding the sauce-covered wooden spoon to your chest. When he rounded around the corner, he found you and slowed down, sighing in relief. "What's wrong?" You worried in a timid tone.
He panted lightly, relaying, "Needed to find you."
"I'm here."
"I know," he relented, charging up to you and engulfing you in a tight, heavy hug. "I needed to talk to you, Peach," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
"You. You're what's wrong."
"What the fuck does that - "
"No, no," he pulled back to stare down at you fondly, "I don't mean it like that, just that... You're struggling. I can see that. But you're not alone, I'm here with you, and I got a little caught up in my head when I realized someone was so very dependent on me - it fucking scared me. But then... Then you just shut yourself off and hid away from me, and oh, my God, it's so much worse, baby. Don't do that," he breathed, "okay? Don't ever shut me out - don't stop loving me, don't stop talking to me, don't give up on us. I can't read your mind, you can't read mine, it's not an excuse - but we understand better when we trust each other enough to communicate what's required. I'm so sorry I got caught up in myself, I didn't know what you needed - but I'm here now, I'm here - I'm not leaving you."
You collapsed into his chest, taking a shuddering breath.
"Don't ever stop talking to me, Peach," Bucky whispered, kissing the top of your head; keeping you close. "I'm so sorry, baby, if I - "
"If?" You snapped, pulling back to glare at him through your tears. "I heard you, Bucky. I heard you talking to Sam and Steve, and about how clingy I am."
"I was wrong," he insisted. "I was overwhelmed and tired and just stretched thin, the easiest thing to do is attack those closest to me, and that's you. It's not right, it's the worst I could do to you after all you've been through, and I'm so sorry. I was wrong, you're not the person to take this out on - and I'm so sorry, Peach."
You sighed, "I don't mean to be... I don't mean to cling - "
"Nah," he chuckled, caressing your cheek, "you cling as much as you want. Cling as tight as you want, baby, don't let me go. I'm sorry for what I said and the way it made you feel, it was wrong - so fucking wrong of me, and I see that. When you pulled away from me, I just... I couldn't think. It felt so wrong, and I knew it was my fault." He took your face in both palms, promising, "I'm so sorry, Peach."
You shrugged meekly, "It's okay."
"It's not."
"No, but apologizing is a step in the right direction."
He nodded, "What else can I do?"
"Nothing - "
"Peach."
You paused to think, smiling shyly, "Movie night?"
"Whatever my pretty girl wants," he nodded.
"Hmm... Get a bath with me?"
"All right... Sure, okay..."
"And face masks."
He sighed, "Okay."
"And mani-pedis."
"Baby."
"You said you were making it up to me, right?"
He smirked, "That's right... All right, yeah, sure, fine, we can..." He sighed again, "We can do all that, Peach, whatever you want."
"I just want you," you told him softly. "I didn't mean to be so clingy. I was just afraid... I felt afraid everyday, just so very unsure in this life. You're the only thing that makes sense to me, Buck, and when I heard you, I just... I guess I realized how dependent I'd been and wanted to give you space. Last thing I want is to smother you, to drive you away from me."
"Not ever gonna happen," he promised softly. "I just didn't handle it like I should've. I'm sorry, Peach, but I'm here now - for whatever you need. Want me to take a few days off, just be together? I'll arrange it. Want to get away for a bit? We can go."
"I just need you," you whispered. "Only you and I should be okay - I can be okay if I have you, but feeling like I lost you? Even a fraction? Buck... James, it was such a harrowing feeling, I wasn't sure what to do to move forward. So, I think I just panicked, shut down; thought if I could just get back to normal, you'd love me again..."
"I never stopped loving you," he swore, "I just had a bad lapse in my own judgement. Nothing against you, baby. Nothing."
You nodded again, letting him tuck you into his chest; perfectly snug under his chin as he coiled his arms around you. He let out a long sigh, his guilt swelling to new heights, but for that present moment, everything seemed okay.
Felt okay.
Appeared okay.
And you'd both do whatever it took to remain as okay as you possibly could.
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SHIPPING MEME!! 2, 3, 4, 5 (>.>), 14, 15, 26!
THANK
2. Talk about three of the most important ships throughout your life.
HMMMM. I'm going to include platonic ships in this, and they're all ships I've RP'd. Also, there are definitely more than 3 super important ships, so these are definitely NOT all of them.
(Platonic) Zack/Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth from Final Fantasy 7. My first-ever set of online RPs. Really how I got into RP and art and writing! Still love them. I want to pick up the new games at some point, and I still have old fics on my to-do list.
Blakk and Saare-ha. An unplanned ship, but so good. the RP here is how I got into SWTOR. Still my canon storyline and I hope to finish some day!
Blakk and Ahuska. One of my current major ships and responsible for a few other most excellent ships, as well as some most excellent projects. >3
All of these ships and ones I haven't mentioned are of course responsible for hooking me up with my most bestest online friendships. What could be better than stories and fandoms and friends? ♥♥♥
3. What’s your current OTP?
I have several ships with Blakk that I love: Blakk/Ahuska, Blakk/Der, Blakk/Zim, Blakk/Zim/Der/Ahuska. Ofc, as my main OC, I love all my ships with him, even if they aren't listed. ♥
ALSO, I love Watcher Five/Cipher Thirteen/Crow aaaaand whoever else may or may not get wrapped up into that. 8) Cipher 13 is my newest trash child and he's amazing. >3
4. What’s your current NOTP?
Ahahahaha ... Shuri and Namor (Wakanda Forever). There's SO many things about this ship that I find extremely disagreeable.
Namor's entire arc starts with a gaslighting trip ("it's your fault I'm attacking you because you won't join me in worldwide genocide"), followed by the lovely murder of Shuri's mother. Despite his supposed agreement to stand down from his warmongering ways, he ends the movie with a renewed commitment to beat Wakanda the moment he can find a way to do it. Not once does he express remorse or any genuine desire to co-exist with Wakanda. As long as they refuse to be his tool to take over the world and/or commit mass genocide, they are his enemy. Shuri certainly (and rightfully) showed no interest in him in the whole movie. She's honestly got better things on her mind, not the least of which is her mother's murder. It's a sign of her own character growth that she even let him live after his murder spree. But at the end of the movie, Namor had no character growth: he's the same as he was at the beginning, except beaten.
I look at this ship and all I can ask is WHY. Maybe there's room in a future movie for him to develop as a character (after all, this was Shuri's story, and not his), but right now it's a ship I just can't stomach lol. It's such a weird ship. It doesn't recognize anything that happened in the movie. I appreciate a good bad guy ship, but there's nothing compelling in Namor even as a character to achieve that the way he was portrayed. And the funny thing is that it's not even presented as the random OOC ship it is, or even a solid hate-ship, it's presented like there's a basis for Shuri and Namor to actually have a loving relationship ... and there isn't. She's a child. He's a centuries-old child throwing a temper tantrum that nobody else in his entire underwater kingdom probably understands. He murdered her mother and said it was their own fault. Just nope.
People can ofc ship whoever they want, but this is the first ship I've seen that I've been so opposed to even seeing the art on my dash. These tender, loving glances between Shuri and Namor?? Wot??? Like, did we watch the same movie?? Doesn't seem like it, lol.
5. Do you have any poly ships?
I DO IN FACT. 8)
(SWTOR OCs) Watcher 5/Cipher 13/Crow +/- Ulfran is a CURRENT FAVE. Ahuska floats around on the fringes. 8)
Derrick/Blakk/Zim/Ahuska is another fun one, and I've had a couple others over the years. >3
14. How do you feel about will they/won’t they?
An excellent trope, especially in slow burn action. >3
15. Have you ever “shipped at first sight”?
Not that I recall, actually. The characters have to reveal themselves first, along with their motivations and how they tie into the story. I don't ship just anyone, and I don't do it just based on the appearance of characters. I'm also not a super frequent shipper either. I default to canon relationships all the time with zero desire to change it and zero desire to delve into fanfiction. I have to really connect to the characters and want to see more of them before I think about shipping.
26. Have you noticed a pattern in your shipping? Is there a romantic dynamic you’re more drawn to?
Now that I think about it I GUESS THERE IS.
I seem to lean strongly into angsty bad boy + heart of gold, or angsty bad boy + power figure. Honestly, as long as there's a stabby, desperate, angst bucket, my shipping radar boots up. XDD
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Sting - LN
Summary: Rejection isn't something Lando is unfamiliar with in his love life and while it's never nice. This time it really stings and she's harder to let go than any other girl who has turned him away, maybe because she doesn't sound so sure about rejecting him.
Aston Martin employee!reader
Themes: smut
No part 2 requests please
"I'm really flattered, but I think it's a bad idea." Y/n smiles trying to make it so it's not awkward but it's really hard to reject someone who just asked you out and it not be awkward. "I'm sorry, Lando."
Truth be told the two have got really close. Y/n is Aston Martin's social media manager, though Fernando handles a lot of it himself. She sort of aids him through any confusion and Lance prefers not to be involved in it a lot so she handles all his accounts, though he can log in and do stuff himself. She has access to all the team and driver social media accounts.
But her and Lando befriended each other purely through continuously being around each other and Lando having grown an obvious crush.
"Why is it a bad idea?" Lando asks trying not to lose his confidence.
"I think we're just really good as friends." Y/n states looking as if she's trying to keep up a positive front. Though she quickly softens a little and speaks up again. "You're a great guy. But I'm just not at a point in my life that I want to be dating anyone. I'm so...focused on my job and I think right now, I would say no to anyone."
"So you're saying it's not me it's you?" Lando surmises making earn nod a little, the guilt on her expression beginning to get hard to hide. "Don't feel bad."
"Never feels great rejecting someone." Y/n mumbles before Fernando appears shouting her name. "I have to go. That's his I have the most marvellous idea and need your help call."
"Good luck." Lando nods then turning and sighing as he heads into the McLaren unit straight towards his drivers room where Jon is standing setting up some warm up stuff.
"You don't look happy." Jon comments making her look at him for a moment. "Y/n say no?"
"Exactly that." Lando grumbles then growing as he throws himself onto the physio bed. "She said she's not in the right place for a relationship and is focusing on her job...which I can't actually argue with. But I'm still not really happy about it."
"You know-"
"I know." Lando mutters, not actually knowing but not really wanting to be told something about the situation. He's not happy, but he can't be angry about it either. "It just stings."
And it does, there was something about being friend zoned that really hurt this time. It's not as if he's never been rejected before, hell despite his popularity he's found himself the victim of so many friend zones that he has lost count. Embarrassingly.
It never feels particularly good, but this time really stings.
Maybe it's because they are friends and they have to see each other and he really doesn't want to lose her as a friend. The problem is that he wants her as much more than a friend.
-
Y/n and Lando continued to be friends, to spend time together and to have the amazing back and forth of flirting.
"You know, it is a shame that y/n can't date you." Fernando comments as they walk around the paddock. Y/n not there with the older driver for once. "The two of you get along so well, when she told me why she said no I couldn't believe it."
"What do you mean?" Lando frowns not thinking her reason was all that unbelievable. She's prioritising her job. What about that is so shocking?
"Well Lawrence saying she can date within the team but no one from another team. It seems a little bit far fetch to demand. Her love life is not his business or even team business, no?" Fernando questions making Lando's face drop.
"Lawrence? Like Lawrence Stroll?"
"The owner of the team, yes. He has it written in everyone's contract. He even got reports about her getting close to you, took her in for a meeting and she left practically in tears. I had to get her flowers to help her feel better." Fernando states sounding almost fatherly towards the young woman as he speaks in disapproval of it all.
Lando actually feels like he's just been punched in the gut with this information.
Why didn't she tell him?
Maybe because he almost certainly would've said they can hide it. He would've tried to talk her into a plan of just keeping it secret. After all they're friends, so long as they keep the PDA to what it is now then there's no real risk.
"I know she did not tell you about the contract clause. But I think you should know. Maybe you can do something about it." Fernando explains, essentially admitting he informed Lando with an ulterior motive that was not as innocent as Lando had initially assumed.
-
It took some poking at Fernando, but Lando got her hotel room from the Spaniard.
So later he shows up knocking on her door with no relenting even when there's no answer. Mainly because he messaged her about an hour ago and knows she's there.
The door swings open and she is glaring at him, holding a towel tightly around her wet body which honestly stirs something in Lando that he wasn't expecting to be forced to deal with upon coming to see her.
"I-Lando, what are you doing here?" Y/n stutters out, pulling her towel tighter around herself.
"We need to talk."
"Now?" Y/n frowns almost feeling helpless about it.
"Yes. Now."
Y/n looks around before stepping aside and gesturing for Lando to come in, which he does before she closes the door.
"So what is so important that you couldn't wait and had to smash on my door loud enough for a noise complaint?" Y/n questions trying to figure if she wants to put clothes on while Lando tries to keep his hands from pulling that towel off.
"You didn't tell me it was in your contract that you can't date me."
"Well it's not you specifically." Y/n frowns earning a slightly look of annoyance. "It doesn't matter if you know or not. It's not going to change anything."
Y/n looks at Lando who seems to be visibly with the cogs turning in his head. The man couldn't hide an emotion on his face if he tried and right now, he's thinking.
"Ok, while you process. Can I put some clothes on?"
"I'd really rather you didn't." Lando shrugs making her sigh at him and adjust her towel again. "We could just not tell people."
"You realise I would lose my job." Y/n frowns while Lando frowns.
"I'll get you a new job. The same job but on a better team." Lando tries making her look at him in slightly amusement. "Don't give me that look."
"What look?"
"Like I'm coming up with some childish fantasy."
"That is exactly what you're doing. I don't know what you expect me to do when that is genuinely what's happening here." Y/n states with a shrug as Lando steps towards her. "Lando...don't do something we'll regret."
"Will you regret it?"
"If it costs me my job then yes."
"But we're not dating...or is it that you can't have sex with anyone from another team too?'
"You're trying to get into the fine print?"
"Depends what the fine print says."
"I can't have relations with anyone from another team. So actually yes, I'm not allowed to have sex with you either."
Lando hums biting his lip lightly as he looks at her for a moment and she tries not to ruin her freshly showered state by sweating as his hand comes up and tugs the damp towel away.
Once glimpse at her body had his head dropping back with a groan echoing through his throat.
"Fucking hell, y/n. You can't force me to leave, please don't make me leave."
Y/n isn't usually so eager to just give herself to a man who she has yet to even kiss, especially after having rejected him so recently but she doesn't say anything.
Lando's hand moves down her waist, stroking her exposed skin while she swallows thickly. She's already decided his touch feels far too good for her to move away from it or say she doesn't want this.
"Want me to stop?"
"No." Y/n mumbles and that's all Lando needs.
Hands on her waist as he pushed her back till her knees hit the edge of the bed and she falls back onto the soft surface.
"Are you sure you want this?" Lando asks stopping and giving her the opportunity to back out. He might be feeling like he'll die if he doesn't get to at least touch every inch of her body. But he's not about to do something that she'll hate both himself and herself for.
"Yes. Don't make me overthink this." Y/n mumbles and Lando really doesn't have to be told twice.
There's something about the situation that stops him from going completely feral on the young woman. Instead he's going to really take his time.
Lando has no problem just looking at her, keeping his gaze fixed on her before he leans over and gets to do the one thing that he's been waiting to do for far too long.
Just fucking kiss the girl.
She tastes like mint, presumably having brushed her teeth before or after the shower.
But he moves his lips down her body, leaving a trail over marks on her skin, his teeth nip as he shamelessly leaves love bites as evidence he was there. He doesn't care how childish might be. He's giving her a memory of this moment that goes beyond right now.
All he can hear is her almost panting and when he is low enough that he throws her legs over his shoulders and uses the position to push her further up the bed for a better angle and access to her.
"Lando." Y/n whimpers just feeling him spread her lips and his breath hitting her pussy which is admittedly still wet from her shower really, but he can see her quivering and the sound of his name from her voice is enough for him to know it's pleasure that he's causing.
"Tell me what you want." Lando instructs feeling her thigh tense to fight the urge of closing and bringing herself some sort of relief.
"You. I want your mouth on me giving me the best head I've ever got." Y/n states not even hesitating and Lando almost wants to applaud her for how impressed he is she actually answered and did not stutter meaning no area of confusion.
He knows exactly what she wants from him and he's more than happy to deliver on it.
"Lando please."
He didn't actually mean to hesitate to the point of hearing her beg, but it certainly isn't an unwelcome sound. But he doesn't waste anymore time and dives in between her legs properly lapping his tongue and groaning at the fact that she might've just showered but there's a slick there telling him that if he had any doubt of her being turned on. He doesn't need to doubt it from the taste of her on his tongue.
Y/n feels so completely desperate for Lando, she didn't realise how immediately addictive his touch would be.
"F-Fuck, L-Lando." Y/n moans, pressing herself heavily into the bed beneath her.
Her hand reaches down to his hair, tugs on his scalp pulling him closer much to his delight. He's face is smothered in her and he's feeling the side of him that wanted to drag this experience out suddenly disappear as soon as he feels her twitching in a build up and then completely spasming on his tongue. Her thighs locking on his head trying to contain herself as she almost tries to move away from him as if the sensation is all too much, but he keeps his hands on her thighs stopping her from getting anywhere till he's made sure she's rode out this orgasm for as long as possible.
Actually to his surprise, despite him making no effort to let up as she moans and moves her hands to the sheets trying to ground herself from the overstimulation.
When he finally moves off there's a matter of seconds which is him, his body drags up against her with the perfect amount of pressure on her that she's grappling for him.
"What do you want?" Lando asks, breath hot and his face wet. His lips look almost swollen and his face is flushed. She can't even stop herself from reach a hand to his face for a moment both of them slightly breathless.
"I want you, inside me. Right now. Please." Y/n pants which is all Lando needs to reach down, gently pushing the tip in before moving his hand to hook a hand under her knee, pushing her leg back for a better angle which is very much perfectly effective.
Lando almost chokes on his spit from the feeling of her wrapped around him. The idea of holding back on her crosses his mind, but that's all it does and then it disappears along with any sense of self-control.
He's only relieved to hear y/n whimpering and moaning through every thrust which is almost a no mercy approach from Lando, just pounding into her not able to even entertain the idea of slowing down. He already knows he abusing her g-spot from the 2nd or 3rd thirst thanks to her reaction and when he reaches down to pinch at her clit.
Y/n practically cries from the additional stimulation. Her nerves short-circuiting from such attention. He's touching her like he owns her body and knows it's every secret that even she had yet to make use of.
He feels her start to quiver around him, fighting off a second orgasm but it doesn't last long as she completely tightens around him, still trying to deny herself the high that her body is on the verge of being pushed over the edge of.
"Let it go, baby." Lando states with a voice so heavy in lust that it completely pours over her like he's setting out to melted her. She's arched up against him and clenched down around him. Her spasming around him in such a way that Lando is locked in her as he cums, both in a shared world of bliss.
Y/n's body takes it's time to actually relax while Lando keeps himself pressed as deep in her as possible, his face in her neck.
"Ok...Ok, maybe...maybe we could try keeping this hidden...just until I find another job that doesn't contractual obligate me to not date someone from another team." Y/n pants running a hand up through his hair as she tries to catch her breath and actually stop seeing start. "So long as you promise to do that again."
"I'll do that and more." Lando grunts pulling out and sighing as he looks at her from the shifted back position. "That's a promise."
"Good." Y/n smiles before he kisses her a couple times.
"I think you might need another shower."
"I'll do it in a bit...I still need just...a bit of recovery time." Y/n yawns almost feeling like falling asleep from the amount of energy that just completely burn through any energy she had. "Actually I might need food, water and a nap before I even consider getting up."
Lando smiles kissing her again, now loving to abuse this new privilege.
"I'll take care of you." Lando smiles then getting up while she frowns.
"What are you doing?" Y/n questions making him grin leaning back over her for another kiss. "Ok, that's lovely but not an answer."
"Don't move." Lando grins then pushing her back onto the bed. "I'm good at both orgasms and aftercare."
Y/n sighs taking a moment to realise this man really just turned her world upside down. But to her surprise it's in the best way. Even if Fernando is about to throttle Lawrence for the contract clause that is going to lead to her inevitable departure from Aston Martin just so she can pursue a relationship with Lando.
But there's pretty good reason (good sex) with a man who has very apparently made his point that he isn't wavering on his feelings for her.
Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3
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What is yours
Astarion x gn!Reader
Summary: A stroll through the market evokes an unpleasant sensation in Astarion.
Word Count: 3,1k
hurt/comfort, jealousy, fluff
[ AO3 ]
The warm rays of the midday sun bathed the markets’ goods in a marvellous light. The place was bustling, a scent of spices lingering in the air and hurried voices brimming.
If someone had told Astarion that one day he’d be able to move around Baldur’s Gate so freely again, he’d probably huffed merely a dry laugh – and yet here he was, following you through the narrow streets of his city, admiring how much colour the world had to offer.
Of course it was you who had dragged him along for the mundane task to gather some food for your companions back at camp. Astarion couldn't care less to fill up their bellies, as his own appetite was perfectly stilled from your generosity when it came to offer him your blood, but one blink from your doe eyes had been enough to convince him to accompany you.
Well, that, and perhaps that warm feeling that refused to leave his chest when he was with you.
It was obvious that you loved to stroll around the market, savouring the colourful impressions while taking a break from all the fighting and gore your journey to rid yourself from the tadpoles held for you.
Astarion had never watched you spending your coin so lightly before. You probably thought it was time to treat yourself once in a while, and who was he to deny you this little pleasure? He had to admit that he actually adored seeing your face light up over the different trinkets you bought, eagerly filling your bags and pouches with your newest additions.
“Let's get some fruit for the others while we’re at it,” you suggested, pointing towards a merchant presenting an inviting range of fresh goods. “Something nutritious seems much needed after we fed mostly on leftovers for the past weeks.”
Your shoulders were loaded with the various goods you had already bought – dyes, herbs, some new toys for Scratch and the owlbear cub and a bunch of flasks to fill with potions.
“As you wish,” Astarion replied, when a display of weapons caught his eye. His last pair of daggers had become rather blunt from the Goblin throats he’d cut, so maybe it was time to treat himself as well, he thought and gently grabbed your wrist.
“On second thought, why don't you go ahead while I'll have another look around here, my love?” he asked and came to a stop. “I haven't much expertise to add when it comes to your culinary needs, and those daggers look rather appealing.”
“Sounds fine with me, but try not to spend all of our gold at once,” you teased and squeezed his shoulder.
“Hah, you're one to talk. Please remind me, who was it again that just bought five new toys for Scratch, so he had a set of different colours to choose from?”
“He needs some variety,” you muttered, trying to keep up a serious expression. “But nevermind, see you in a minute then.”
You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and waved, already on your way to spend some more of your coin.
Astarion couldn’t help but smile over your excitement for the market, before he picked up a dagger from the display in front of him. The handle appeared to be of higher quality than his current ones, and the blade looked sharp enough to inflict some hurt.
As he gazed further through the wares, pondering which one would fit him best, he spared a glance to check on you.
He spotted you a few stalls away at the fruit stand you had mentioned. The vendor you were talking to gesticulated wildly while presenting his wares, leading you to laugh.
Astarion frowned and put the dagger away to take a closer look.
The vendor was young, an elf with blond curls, and Astarion noticed that he wasn’t an unpleasant sight.
He was immediately bothered by the smile you gave the other man, the way he touched your hands as he started to offer you bite-sized pieces of fruit to taste.
His fingers lingered too long against yours for Astarion’s liking.
As he continued to watch you from afar, something inside his belly started to seethe – hot and ugly.
A feeling he experienced before when it came to you, but couldn't quite grasp.
Well, whatever this was, Astarion certainly wasn’t jealous. Not of some random street vendor at least – and why should he be? Because you had smiled so sweetly at him? Or because you were laughing again as you took another piece of fruit from his filthy hands?
What in the nine hells could be so entertaining about buying fruit anyway?
It was ridiculous, really, and yet Astarion imagined how it would feel to rip the vendor's throat as punishment for daring to touch you.
Would he bleed out quickly? Would he scream?
Astarion shook his head, shoving the violent image aside.
He remembered the previous occasions when that unpleasant burning inside his stomach had appeared. It was the moment Gale decided it was appropriate to show you his so-called magical weave, or the other day when Wyll proposed a dance to you. You had kindly rejected both of them, but Astarion was still not particularly impressed by their interest in you.
He knew what others would seek from you. Why they wanted you. For the same reasons he enjoyed being with you: your compassion, the kindness you spread. Your special talent to make him feel seen.
There was also your wit, the way you would crack a joke even in the most maddening situations, making him feel light. And not to mention, you were a beautiful vision if Astarion had ever seen one.
Of course there would be others who saw those qualities as well, aiming to claim you.
A sudden wave of anxiety flooded his mind, moulding an appaling image in his skull.
He wondered if one day you would prefer someone else over him.
Someone who would match your kindness – acting all selfless and heroic, indulging in activities he found little pleasure in.
Providing you with something Astarion might be unable to give you, ever, no matter how much he cared about you.
Hells, what if you were already seeking someone like that?
His stomach dropped.
The dreadful notion spread its relentless claws past his ribs, tearing holes in his dead heart.
Blood rushed to his ears.
Before he even realised, his feet were already dragging him towards you.
He needed to be close to you – doing anything to make this feeling stop.
When he arrived next to you, he placed a hand on the small of your back and grasped your tunic, a little tighter than he'd intended.
He tried his best to keep his composure.
“Are we all done here, my love?” he asked, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Oh, Astarion!” You smiled when you noticed him, unaware of his musings. Your pouch was filled to the brink with fresh fruits. “Yes, I guess that would be all.”
Astarion felt the need to pull you away, but before he came up with an excuse to leave immediately, the merchant was already addressing you again.
“Think about it, will you?” A smug grin plastered that man’s face as he spoke to you, casually bending over his counter.
Astarion gave you a confused look.
Think about what?
“Unfortunately there’s no time to join the tavern tonight, but thank you for the offer. Maybe next time,” you said amicably and packed up your wares.
What was that?
Astarion thought he must have misheard.
“What a shame. Perhaps you can give it a second thought.” The vendor was still beaming at you, before he turned to Astarion. “Your friend can come too, of course.”
“Oh, that sounds splendid. We will think about it, will we, darling?”
Astarion bit his tongue, swallowing the impulse to spit a cutting remark on top of his obvious sarcasm.
What in the nine hells was this mongrel thinking, inviting you to the tavern? And how he was speaking to him – as if he was some irrelevant bystander.
“Let's see what we can do,” you said politely, already on your way to move on. “Have a nice day. And thank you again.”
“You as well,” replied the salesman and waved.
Astarion gritted his teeth as he followed you through the busy alleyways, still processing what just happened.
The vendor's words appeared in his mind.
That man had obviously desired to fuck you, and wasn’t even trying to hide his advances.
How could he have dared.
Astarion regretted that he had acted so passive in that moment. Usually he wasn’t one to hesitate, always a sharp comment dancing on his tongue, and yet… the thought of losing you to someone else had shifted something in him, turning him small.
His fury grew.
Oh, how he would love to grab that despicable pig by his throat, banishing that filthy grin of his face. Making him bleed. But he knew that unlike him, you would gladly refrain from a public bloodbath, so he shoved away those violent fantasies, even if the fire continued to seeth in him – unpleasant and hot.
He tried to fathom what posed the worst about this whole ordeal: The way in which the man had aimed to claim you, or his fear that you enjoyed those cheap advances – possibly were fond of it even.
Astarion's mood couldn't have been more sour as you arrived at a secluded area, away from the markets bustling.
“Can you believe it? That seller insisted on giving me a discount,” you broke the silence and pointed proudly at the wares you had gathered. “And they say there are no kind people left in Baldur's Gate.”
And just as the words had left your throat, Astarion finally snapped.
“Is that so?” he hissed, baring his fangs. “How generous. What a nice, handsome gentleman he is, also inviting you to the tavern with him.” He spoke harsh – his tone cold and venomous.
You came to an abrupt stop, resting the groceries on the ground and fixating your gaze on his, a furrow between your eyebrows.
“What are you implying?” You sounded puzzled.
“Oh, don't act so naive, darling, you know what I'm implying. That man wanted to bed you, everyone could see it from the way he treated you. And by the laughs you offered him, you seemed to enjoy his attention as well, did you not? What a flirt you are.”
His accusations left a taste of ash in his mouth. Moments before his anger seemed directed at the man’s advances, and now his bottled-up wrath was boiling onto you.
The bewildered look on your face turned into something else, something sad, your eyes losing their shine. He sensed that he must’ve hurt you, and it tugged at his heartstrings.
“So, you’re jealous of that man, is that what this is about?”
“Me? Being jealous of some filthy street vendor?” Astarion scoffed, immediately falling back to his dramatics, gesticulating defensively with his hands. “Don't insult me, darling. I find it amusing that he thinks he can have you, and I didn’t fail to miss your interest in him,” he bit, almost choking on the dry chuckle that spilled from his lips.
“There was no interest from my side, other than purchasing some of his wares,” you explained. Then you opened your mouth again, sharply sucking air between your teeth, before your gaze softened. Your voice was calm, without spite or anger. “He recognized me, Astarion. From the article in the gazette. Slayer of the evil Ketheric Thorm and all that fuss. Does that ring a bell?”
Of course he remembered. It was him that had to sneak past those giant steel watchers back at the gazette’s building, convincing the magical press to print an article in your favour. An article that wouldn’t taint your reputation, unlike the one Gortash had commissioned to derogate you.
Astarion couldn’t deny that after the praising piece was published, you were indeed met with an unusual kindness from the people of Baldur's Gate.
“Well, how could I forget?” Astarion's face twisted. “But that doesn't mean he didn't have something else in mind with you. Some people certainly would love to bury their blade inside a true hero for once, I can imagine.”
You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Even if he did want to bed me, what does it matter?”
An icy grip twisted Astarion's chest. The image of you with someone else stung in his eyes, making him sick.
Before he could growl another reply, you rested your hand on his arm, catching his fuming. “Hey – look at me, you silly goose.”
Your tender touch was enough to quell the blazing flame in his belly.
You spoke so warmly to him. So... loving.
Astarion rested his eyes on you and was met with an affectionate smile that disarmed him completely.
“Astarion, don’t you realise that I couldn't care less if thousands of people felt the sudden need to bed me?”
He bit his cheek, remaining silent.
“You’re the only one I want, you jealous fool. No one else – not now, not ever, and certainly not some random street vendor that throws a discount at me because he thinks of me as some kind of hero.”
Astarion’s features involuntarily softened as he took in your words. The fury that was about to overwhelm him dissolved into a flutter, engulfing his chest, washing away the seething that hooked at his ribcage.
“Really?” Only one word left his mouth, before he cleared his throat. “I mean – I'm not surprised of course, as you seem to literally cling to my side these days.” A poor attempt to cover his insecurity, but the best he could muster.
“Really,” you assured and gently tapped on his temple, “I vow on the tadpole flooding inside our brains.” You chuckled as you rested your hands on the back of his neck and shifted closer to him.
“Well, but those might be gone someday,” Astarion mumbled.
“And even then, I will remain at your side. Only if you want me to, of course.”
Astarion didn’t have to think of his answer, the words spilling from his lips like a reflex.
“Yes, I would want that,” he whispered sincerely, his flamboyant mask crumbling. “Look, it's not that I don't trust you. It’s just… Well, I guess I'm used to losing what I hold dear. And the thought of losing you to someone else… I don’t know, apparently it woke something in me.”
He felt almost ashamed over his sudden lack of eloquence, being so raw with you, but there was a sense of relief in opening up. To his surprise, it was even more soothing than losing himself in violence.
You looked at him with affection and cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing over his skin. He closed his eyes and sunk against your palm.
“It's alright, Astarion, you don't have to explain. I promise you, you won’t lose me to someone else. As you said, I tend to cling to your side these days, and truth be told, I have no intention to stop.”
“I hope you won’t,” Astarion replied and took your hand in his to press a kiss to your fingertips. “But honestly, I have to apologise for doubting your intentions with me. With us.”
“I forgive you, lover,” you replied tenderly. “I didn't take you for the overly jealous type, though,” you added with a smirk.
Astarion offered you a wry smile. “Let's not dwell on it, shall we?”
Then he reached for your face, softly taking your chin between his thumb and index finger and rested his lips on your forehead, followed by a kiss to the tip of your nose.
You wrapped your arms around his waist to pull him into a close embrace. He could sense your heartbeat against his cold body, your pulse drumming in a comforting rhythm.
For a moment you were just holding each other, your head against his chest, Astarion relishing your warmth and kissing your hair. Your touch was relieving. Assuring.
You were with him, and had promised not to leave.
Your affirmations repeated in his mind: You wanted him. Only him alone.
This was all new territory and Astarion sensed it would take some time for him to fully adjust, yes, but right now… this was all he could wish for.
“Somehow I don't want to let go of you, little love,” he hummed to your ear.
“Then don't,” you breathed and kissed along his neck, brushing his bite marks with your lips, sending a shiver down his spine. A particularly sensible spot, but you were allowed to touch him there.
Gods, how deeply he had fallen for you.
Astarion drew you even closer and sighed, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt.
When he gently peeled away from your hug, you looked up to him and bit your lip.
“Can I be completely honest with you?” you asked sheepishly.
“What is it, my sweet?”
“Well... I think that merchant truly wanted to bed me.”
Astarion laughed – deep, coming from his belly – surprised by his own lightness. The idea of fuming over your obvious admirer seemed almost ridiculous all of a sudden.
“I told you so. But now that you see it too, I guess you wouldn't mind if we turn back for a quick chat? I would love to take care of that dear fellow,” he replied mischievously. While his fury was gone, he still wouldn’t mind some misdemeanour.
“Astarion!” you scolded, but joined his laughter. “Please spare that innocent man.”
“Relax darling, I will. For now at least. And only because you asked so nicely.” His fangs poked from the grin that adorned his lips.
“Good boy,” you teased and brushed one of his white curls behind his ear, his grin widening from your touch.
As you walked back to camp, hands softly entwined, Astarion noticed that probably for the first time in his life someone truly belonged to him – willingly, out of love.
You belonged to him.
The thought grew in his chest, wandered up to his eyes, spreading affection through his entire body, and for the remaining way back to camp he didn’t let go of your hand.
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hey hurt/comfort idea:
soo what about the reader and abby being best friends for years and reader always had a crush on abby. they go to a party and abby introduces her new gf to u. she always liked her but thought reader didn’t (always a bit horny around reader, but they know eachother since childhood so abby mistakes readers flirting as being flirty like friends) so reader gets absolutely hartbroken, drinks till she passes out but abby takes care of her ofc. abbys gf is always with her tho so it just hurts even more.
she avoids abby till the next frat prty or smth (maybe it’s college!au) and then they hook up, abby can’t remember cause she’s too drunk and is back w her gf
very messy but i hope u get the idea :P
(also to make it more hurtful make abby mean while she’s drunk bc she’s going through a rough time but isn’t telling anyone)
It took me so long, I'm so sorry
Palestine: what can you do
I've changed a few things (they don't hook up) because I can't deal with cheating, and I couldn't decide on what ending I wanted so there's a poll in the end.
Tags: Modern AU, childhood friends, Angst, pining and unrequited love, of course.
_______________
Abby is a fucking God, and you come to this conclusion when you're 11 and she helps you with your stupid assignment.
When you're both 14 you start to understand that what you feel for her is not, in fact, an admiration.
You come to this conclusion when you sit in her bedroom and she jokes about teaching you how to kiss because you're a loser and you agree - and yeah, the kiss is a mess, but now you both know that you want to kiss girls. And you want to kiss one girl in particular, but Abby is your best friend and you won’t do anything that will lead to losing her.
Being a God means Abby is out of your reach and you have to live with your stupid feelings.
You're jealous of every boy who jokes around her to get her attention.
You're jealous of every girl who dares to look at her a little too long.
Abby is popular and she starts dating and it breaks your heart every time, and you can't look at other people because all your gods look like Abby.
"Why don't you go on a date?" Abby asks once when you're 16 and you're eating pizza in your bedroom, watching another marvel movie. "I think Jen likes you."
"I don't want to." What would be the point if the only person you want to date won't ever look at you this way?
"Why? Don't you get horny like the rest of us mortals?"
The worst part of being in love with your popular best friend is that she recently lost her virginity and she can't shut up about sex because she is excited about it.
"I have my hand, Abby." You roll your eyes at her.
"But it feels better when the other person does it." Abby winks and puts her hand on your thigh. "It's better, isn't it?" She rubs your thigh and your breath hitches. She looks at you, playful, and goes a little up on your thigh, and your face burns.
"You belong in horny jail, Anderson." You laugh, but don't move her hand: if you move it she'll call you a chicken, but she is a chicken enough herself to not move it further.
And she doesn't.
You live your life peacefully, dealing with your feelings as best as you can.
Then college starts and you're too busy to think about Abby 24/7 and you feel like it gets easier. Like you can breathe around her and you almost don't feel pain when she talks about her sex life.
Almost.
You know it's easy to deal with because all those girls in her bed are temporary while you're in Abby's life forever, and not because your feelings suddenly fainted. Abby likes to sleep around, she is a flirt even with you - a lot, actually, she thinks she can get away with a lot by saying she is touch-starved and then her hands wander off somewhere they're not supposed to be, and you let her, because you'll take whatever you can.
So you go through Abby's fuckboy phase with ease, because sex talk is way better than feelings talk.
A few years pass and suddenly the feelings talk starts, and you're slowly dying inside, because Abby likes someone. Abby talks about how nervous she is around her, she is always on her phone texting her, she is always busy when you want to spend time with her.
You hate this girl with all you have, because she takes Abby away, she takes everything away - Abby is not touchy anymore, she only hugs you briefly when you see her, she is not listening to you half of the time, too caught up in her fantasies.
You hope her girl is a bitch and an asshole and toxic so you can talk Abby out of it, but then Abby tells you she is going to introduce you at the party and you cry yourself to sleep that night.
"How do I look?"
"Like you need Jesus." You say honestly because Abby in the muscle tee and a pair of cargo pants makes you ache.
"Yeah?" Abby looks at you through the mirror with that fucking smirk she knows you like. "Am I fuckable?"
"We both know you prefer to be on the other end of that word, Anderson." You roll your eyes and put your shoes on only to straighten up to Abby's face way too close. She looks you up and down.
"You're very fuckable though."
"Fuck off." You huff and open the door of her apartment, hoping she won't tease you for being flustered. "Let's go before Manny gets so drunk you'll have to carry him. Again."
You spent the night in dread of meeting Abby's girl, dreaming of seeing her red flags or something to have a real reason to hate her to Abby's face, but then Abby lights up and she excuses herself to go and meet her girl, while you try so hard to not throw up from your nerves.
The girl is gorgeous.
"This is (y/n)." Abby motions at you and you smile politely. "This is Mia."
"I'm so happy to meet you." Mia smiles and she looks kind and genuine and fuck, you can't hate her. There's no jealousy in her, no fake smiles, no tense body language. "Abby loves you so much."
You swallow hard.
"I put up with so much of her shit, she doesn't have a choice." You joke and Mia laughs.
Mia is funny and cute and you understand why Abby likes her, because it's impossible not to. Mia is a type of girl that you'd think of as a bitch because she is popular, therefore arrogant, but when you get to know her she is a total sweetheart who'd help you find a way to your class if she notices you're lost.
This is hard.
This is going to break you.
You can't cope with this. You can't cope with seeing Abby's gentle gaze on Mia, with her careful touch and constant care. So you excuse yourself and go to the bar to get drunk, as if you can drown your feelings by dragging them to the bottom of the bottle. You dance and you drink, you dance and you drink and repeat it five other times until all long islands make you feel sick and you can't walk by yourself anymore. You're an independent woman and you refuse to ask for help, but when you can't order a taxi for the fifth time because your eyes are so blurry, Mia comes to you and holds you by your elbow.
"We will take you home, okay?" She says kindly and you feel your lips tremble. We.
"Jus- can you c'll a taxi f'me?" You slur, but you feel Abby's hand on your waist as she supports you. "Don't wanna ruin your night."
"You're not ruining anything." Mia says cheerfully and orders a taxi when Abby gives her your address. "Happens to the best of us."
The drive home makes you super dizzy and Abby has to put her hand between your head and the car door because you hit it all the time. The moment the car stops and Abby goes around to help you get on your legs, you throw up on the ground and it's a miracle you don't get everyone's shoes dirty.
Abby decides to carry you to your place and you can't shut up even for a second.
"I'm s'sorry guys. Not a good first impression. I really like you, Mia. You look kind. Like a grandma. In a good way, I'm sorry." Mia giggles. "Your laugh is very cute. It's cute, right Abby?"
"Yeah." Abby agrees quietly and what you don't know is that for her your drunken rant was way cuter than her girlfriend's laugh.
"Yeah. You look great together, I'm s'happy for you Abby. Haven't seen her that nervous because of a girl in years, can you imagine, Mia? You make this asshole nervous." You're chuckling sadly, you want to cry because you don't make Abby nervous.
No, you just embarrass her in front of her girlfriend because you're so pathetically in love you can't deal with it and drink half of the bar until you forget how to walk on your own.
Abby helps you change and Mia gives you water. She makes sure there is fresh air in your room and she tucks your blanket, and you close your eyes to hide your tears because Mia is so nice. She is a dream girl and Abby is so happy and there is no space for you anymore.
Because Mia took your place in that forever equation.
On the next day you text your apologies to both Abby and Mia (she followed you on instagram and asked you how you felt) and you can't deal with this. It hurts so much because you love Abby so much and you want her to be happy but it seems like the price of it is going to be your heart.
So you start avoiding her as best as possible, and what is more sad - it's not even that hard. Abby is always with Mia, fuck, Mia even asks you to come with them to hang out, which you always find an excuse not to. Library, fever, other plans, other plans again, sorry, paper is due tomorrow, my aunt is in town (she is not). Anything to not meet with them.
You still see Abby during classes and you give each other life updates, but it's been weeks since you actually hung out and you accept the reality that yes, there's no place for you in Abby's life anymore.
You cry every fucking night.
Then Abby suddenly remembers you exist and she asks you if you want to hang out, just the two of you, because she misses you. You miss her too and you agree.
You regret it the moment she cuddles you in front of her tv. She has a girlfriend now, why is she so touchy again? Did something happen with Mia that Abby came to you?
"Is everything okay with Mia?"
"Yeah, she is great." Abby says and buries her nose in your neck.
No. You can't deal with this.
So you start avoiding Abby at all costs after this - you can't shake the feeling that this is cheating, because for you Abby's touch has never been platonic, no. And it never felt platonic either, it was always giving you hope because Abby was flirting and touching the way friends don't touch each other. Maybe one day she'd finally give you a chance, you thought, but this day never came.
It is another party a month and half later - yay, Abby and Mia have been together for two months now! - and you don't know if Abby is going to come, but you hope she doesn't. You know she knows something is up and she will want her answers if she meets you.
But you have fun. You play games, you drink, you dance, you get flirted with and you forget about your pain just to get so drunk again you can't help but go outside to find a place to cry in peace.
You miss Abby, you miss her because she is a part of you and yes, you're in love with her, but she also your best fucking friend and you hate yourself for being in love with her, because it ruins your life. It has been ruining your life since you were fourteen and actually understood what you felt, but now it was getting serious.
"(Y/n)?"
Fuck.
You wipe your tears and look at Abby who is standing right in front of you.
"Hi." You squeak and she drops on the knees to look at you.
"Did something happen? Why are you crying?"
"I'm just sad. Don't worry." You try to smile but Abby's frown makes you cry more. "I'm going home anyway, so you can enjoy the party."
"What the hell are you saying? I'm not leaving you."
She should. She should leave you and not complicate it further.
Abby calls a taxi and you chuckle in your head - If you had a nickel for every time Abby was taking your drunk ass home, you'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.
You tell her as much because the meme is funny and you try to be positive.
Abby helps you out of the car and this time you don't throw up.
"You know, last time I totally embarrassed myself in front of Mia." You chuckle and make your way upstairs with Abby's arm around your waist. "She is cute, I'm so happy for you."
Abby chuckles and leads you inside your apartment, but between the two of you she is mostly sober and she has some questions, and she wants her answers. You know this too, so when you sit on your sofa you feel like all your shields are crumbling: you’re giving up on hiding this from her. If this is the end, so be it.
"You've been avoiding me." Abby says quietly, looking you in your eyes like she is just a little bit mad.
"Yeah, I know." You admit with a chuckle. "You have a girlfriend now, it's so cool. When was the last time you liked someone like that? Back in school?"
"So you've been avoiding me on purpose."
"I don't think you can avoid someone accidentally, Abby.” You say, not holding back your venom. “Anyway, I’m so happy for you.”
“Why are you avoiding me?” Abby moves closer to you and you swallow your tears because there’s nowhere to run.
“Because it’s easier.” You shrug. “I just want you to be happy, okay? Does Mia make you happy?”
“Yeah.” Abby admits and you start crying again: it hurts so fucking much.
“Good. It’s good. I’m happy for you.” You sniffle and Abby huffs, annoyed.
“Stop saying that. Stop avoiding my questions.”
Inside you all hell breaks loose.
“I love you, okay?” You finally burst. “I love you, and it hurts so fucking bad and I can’t fucking see you with her or know that you’re with her! What do you want me to do? What would you do if you were me? I can’t- I can’t-” You throw your hands desperately and bite your lip, too angry with this whole situation.
“I love you too.” Abby says, confused.
“No, no Abby, you don’t understand.” You’re quiet and angry, almost spitting every word out. “I’m in love with you. I’m not jealous as a friend, Abby. I’m jealous because I want to be in her place, okay? Fuck, I wanted to be in your every girl’s place since you started dating girls!”
There is silence. You thought it would be terrifying - this silence - but right now you feel nothing except how dizzy your head is. You feel empty and there's no tears anymore. Abby stares at you in shock, her fists clenched, and you chuckle cynically.
“So can I continue avoiding you now or should I suffer more?”
“Fuck, (y/n)..” Abby sighs and rubs her forehead, going over her face with her palm. “Fuck. Don't do this to me.”
“Well.” You huff, annoyed. “Not like I have a fucking choice, Anderson.”
Abby throws her head back and stares at the ceiling while you do the same, trying to keep your drunk ass stable. You feel like eternity passes before Abby speaks again, and it is strangely comforting, having your best friend here with you, in this boat of pain, and sharing it with her.
“All these years. All these years we could have been together.” Abby sounds like she is mourning.
You thought your heart broke when you met Mia? Forget it, it's broken now.
You sob, howl almost, and Abby is suddenly holding you in her arms, placing kisses to your hair. Her heart can't handle seeing you cry, never could - yes, she tried to move on with Mia, and it worked partially, but all her effort went to shit just now. You're the most precious girl to her and nothing can change it. Abby swallows and braces herself, suddenly making a decision in her head, all her anxiety about what is a right thing to do gone.
“You know what? Fuck it. Fuck all that time we've missed. I'm not letting you go now.” Abby says in your ear and you sob even more violently. “Come on, baby, I'm here. Let me see your face.”
You can't believe it. You can't even process it: is it your drunken dream? Are you hallucinating? It would definitely not be the first time. But you look up at Abby and she gently wipes your tears and there’s so much love and hurt in her eyes it’s hard not to break into another sobbing fit.
“I've been in love with you since we were seventeen.” Abby smiles at you and you shakily smile back. “I’m sorry it came to this. But I'm here now.”
“I love you.” You say feverishly and Abby's restraint breaks.
She kisses you hungrily, practically devouring you, and you're weak, so you return her kiss and press into her, soaking in her warmth and strength. Abby is solid and tender, she holds you like she cares and you cling to her for a moment.
But then you remember yourself and push Abby away, shaking your head.
“No. You're better than this. You're not going to betray Mia like this. I'm not going to let you, Abby. We're not doing this,” You motion between yourself and her. “Behind your girlfriend's back. And I'm also fucking drunk.”
Abby chuckles and kisses your forehead.
“Come on, I'll help you get into your bed.”
Everything else after is a blur as Abby helps you change and covers you with your blanket, and you fall asleep. You can't wait for the morning to come.
****
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Crash in love | L.N.
Lando Norris x reader!driver
Summary: Does he like you? Does he not? Does he crash into you? Yes he does.
Warnings: pinch of angst, fluff, kissing🤭
Word count: 2K
The post-race atmosphere was buzzing with energy as drivers and teams gathered for interviews. Lando had found himself once again captivated by you, a fellow driver whose presence seemed to have a magnetic pull on him.
As the interview session unfolded, Lando struggled to tear his gaze away from you. He marveled at the way your eyes sparkled with concentration, and he found himself lost in the details of your features. He couldn't help but imagine capturing your essence on paper if only he had the skill to draw.
Caught in his reverie, Lando failed to notice that a question was directed at him. Since Max was answering most of the interviewer‘s questions anyway Lando's attention was solely on you. Unbeknownst to him, the atmosphere in the room had shifted, and the other drivers and onlookers began to chuckle.
You, turned to him with a playful smile, amused by him spacing out in a middle of the interview, totally unaware that it was you he was focusing on instead. The realization hit Lando like a ton of bricks, and his face flushed with embarrassment. He felt like a deer caught in headlights, unsure of how to recover from being so blatantly caught staring.
The laughter from the crowd grew louder, and your own laughter joined in, Lando felt that you were laughing at him...
Lando, now aware of the attention on him, stammered, "Oh, uh, sorry. What was the question?" His cheeks burned with embarrassment, and he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with you after that.
Max, still grinning, chimed in, "Lost in Y/N‘s world, mate?"
Lando managed a sheepish smile, his blue eyes darting between his hands and Max.
You, thoroughly amused, decided to break the tension. "Well, if you need a map, just let me know."
The room erupted in laughter again, and Lando, feeling like the center of attention for all the wrong reasons, wished the ground would swallow him whole. He was left wondering how on earth he was going to approach you now without feeling like a complete idiot.
The tension between Lando and you lingered after, with Lando doing his best to keep a safe distance. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake the confusion and hurt that simmered beneath the surface.
As you and Max prepared for the upcoming qualifying session, you vented to Max, "I just don't get it, Max. Did I say something wrong to ward him off? I literally flirted with him on live TV in front of a room full of journalists, and suddenly he's no longer interested. I thought you guys said he’s totally into me?"
Max, adjusting his gloves, offered a sympathetic smile. "Mate, sometimes these things are complicated. Maybe he's just feeling a bit embarrassed, you know? Give him some time."
You sighed, frustration evident. "But why? The other drivers keep telling me he's got a crush on me, and now he's acting like we're complete strangers. It's so annoying..."
Max chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Well, Lando has a way of making things interesting, doesn't he? Maybe he's just being a typical awkward bloke."
As you headed to your car for the qualifying session, your thoughts were still consumed by Lando. The frown on your face deepened as you caught sight of him in his own garage.
You wondered if your attempt at a flirty line had backfired, or if perhaps Lando had never been interested in the first place and your flirty attempt warded him off.
In the car, you tried to push those thoughts aside, focusing on the race ahead. But as the engines roared to life, and the competition intensified, your mind kept drifting back to the unresolved tension with Lando. The uncertainty hung in the air, making the race not just a competition on the track but a battle within yourself.
The race had been proceeding beautifully, with both Lando and you showcasing your skill on the track. However, the atmosphere changed as you made a risky move to overtake Lando, who had been driving just in front for several laps. You had the speed, a well-thought-out plan, and a calculated risk. It seemed like a chance to secure a higher position in the race.
As you executed your move, you didn't anticipate Lando's sudden swerve to the right. The unexpected maneuver caught you off guard, and before you could react, your car collided with his, causing your front tire to take the brunt of the impact. The screech of tires and the crunch of metal against metal filled the air as your car veered off the track and into the barricades.
The hit was jarring, but what stung even more was the realization that there was only one lap left in the race. The chance to secure a high qualifying position at P2 had slipped away.
Your frustration was palpable as you radioed to your team, "What the hell is Norris doing??"
With a damaged car and only one lap remaining, you knew that any chance of redemption had evaporated. You pushed yourself to finish the race, frustration and disappointment simmering beneath the surface. The incident added another layer of complexity to the already strained dynamics between you and Lando. As you brought your car across the finish line, the taste of what could have been lingering bitterly in the air.
The atmosphere in the McLaren garage crackled with tension as you, fueled by a mix of fury and frustration, stormed into the space where Lando was already stationed. Max's concerned inquiry about your well-being went unanswered as your attention zeroed in on Lando.
Your hands collided forcefully with Lando's chest, catching him off guard. "What the fuck, Norris? You're trying to kill me now?" you exclaimed, eyes on fire.
"Sorry about that. I didn't see you on my right; I was focusing on Russell behind me," Lando explained, attempting to keep some distance between them, rubbing the spot where you had hit.
Your eyes narrowed as you retorted, "Oh, so last week, you couldn't see anything but me, but now I'm suddenly invisible?" The frustration in your voice was palpable as you sought answers to the confusion that had been lingering for the past week.
Lando, nervous and avoiding eye contact, insisted, "I didn't mean to run into you. It was a racing incident."
"Racing incident?" you scoffed, incredulous. "You've been ignoring me perfectly for the last week. How about tomorrow you try to avoid me on track as well since you've pretty much fucking mastered it off track!" The words were sharp, and you didn't hold back the anger and hurt that had been building up.
Frustration reached its peak as you flung your helmet at Lando's chest, the clang echoing in the garage. Without another word, you stormed out, leaving Lando standing there, visibly unsettled.
As Max approached to retrieve your helmet, he glanced at Lando with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Good luck to you now, man, since you've fucked it all up," he chuckled, shaking his head before walking away.
Lando stood there, feeling once again like an idiot. The weight of regret and confusion pressed upon him. Why the hell did he ignore you? Why the fuck did he have to crash into you during the race? How come he didn‘t see you on his right? He had already been grappling with embarrassment from the earlier incident, and now he had not only ruined his own race but also yours. But one thing he was thankful for, even after the beating you’ve given him, that you were not hurt at his expense.
The Sunday Grand Prix arrived sooner than you had wished for. After spending the whole afternoon crying in your room following the qualifying incident, you still felt the weight of the emotional turmoil even after a morning workout. On the outside, you projected a tough exterior, influenced by Max's hot-headed behavior on the track. However, inside you, was a mix of emotions, a bundle of mush that no one knew existed.
Thankfully, as the race started, you slipped into your racing mindset. The laps passed quickly, and when the checkered flag waved, Max once again claimed the first position, with Lando securing second.
Due to a penalty for Charles, you found yourself unexpectedly in third place. The podium finish brought a mix of surprise and awkwardness, but to your astonishment, Lando approached you after the celebration with a gentle smile.
"Congrats on the third place, you did really well today. I couldn't believe it when I saw your name there," Lando said.
"Well, if you hadn't messed up my qualifying, I could have won," you teased.
Lando took a deep breath, his apology sincere. "I'm sorry about last week. I was just so embarrassed, and I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable about the staring thing. But I have to admit, it's been so hard trying not to stare at you this week. I sound like an idiot now, and you probably think I'm creepy because I'm literally so into you I can't take my eyes off of you, and then I crashed into you like an idio-"
You cut off his rambling by placing a hand on his mouth. "Calm down, Lando. I get it. But you should find a better way to show your feelings. I don't know how many more crashes I can take," you chuckled, and so did he.
He took your hand into his, drowning once again in your gaze. Lando was taking you in like you were his oxygen, deprived of it for too long. You two slowly moved closer to each other.
"You are so talented and so beautiful," Lando said almost to himself.
"Lando, if you don't kiss me right now, I'm going to punch you," you declared, unable to wait as you saw his eyes admiring your lips. Had he always looked at you like this, but you just never noticed? The answer was a resounding yes.
“My pleasure," he said before connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. His hands naturally settled on your waist, pulling you even closer, while your own hands found their place tangled around his neck. The two of you were lost in the moment, pulling each other as close as possible.
Meanwhile, Max and Daniel were leaning on the railing further away, watching the young couple with amusement. "About time they got together," Daniel remarked.
"Well, it was your guy that kept messing up," Max scoffed.
"Your girl almost beat him up yesterday," Daniel got defensive. "Oh, please. She held back on him. He's lucky she's into him, otherwise, she would have left him in bruises," Max laughed. "Now I'm kinda scared for Lando, she's become too much like you," Daniel scratched his head.
The two older men turned back to the young couple, you two still blissfully unaware they were being observed. Suddenly, Lando picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing you against the wall deepening the kiss.
Just as things were heating up, you heard Max's voice boom, "OKAY, THAT IS ENOUGH FOR TODAY NORRIS!" He was practically sprinting towards you two, with Daniel right after him.
"Jesus, Max, leave them alone!" Daniel yelled, trying to reason with his impulsive friend.
You rolled your eyes at the two older men but refused to let Lando go. "Guys, do you mind? We're kinda in the middle of something," you gave them a death glare. Max glared at Lando, "Watch the hands, Norris."
Lando, though a blushing mess, felt a surge of confidence seeing that you were not uncomfortable with being caught in such a situation with him. "Max, leave my man alone. And both of you, leave, you old creeps," you shooed the older men away, and Daniel dragged Max out before he could say something again.
Turning back to Lando, a smile instantly blossomed on your face, mirroring his. "Your man, huh?" he teased.
"Oh, shut up," you blushed.
"As you wish, my girl," he said, sealing his words with another sweet kiss. The two of you were finally able to enjoy the moment without any interruptions, savoring the newfound connection that had been a long time coming.
^^
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hiding a relationship and getting caught
trevor x hughes sister!!
the brothers finding out
“caught”
trevor zegras x f!hughes!reader
birdie’s 300 celly
You heard the front door open and a distant call of your name. Lifting your head off the bed, you listened intently and began to panic as you heard footsteps getting closer to your bedroom.
“Trev,” you whispered. “You gotta stop. Somebody’s here.”
Trevor continued kissing up your neck, no doubt carelessly leaving marks you would have to cover up later. “Nah, baby, it’s fine. They’ll go away.”
“Trevor, I’m serious. It could be one of my brothers.” You were desperately trying not to moan as he sucked on your sweet spot.
He placed a final kiss on your shoulder blade before pulling away and meeting your eyes. His lips were red and swollen, and while his pupils dilated when he looked at you, his narrowed eyes told you how he felt. “Do we always have to do this? Would it be so bad if they found out?”
After about six months of dating in secret, you often wondered the same thing. “Like this? Very bad.”
A knock sounded at the door of your bedroom. “Y/n? You in there?” Jack’s voice asked from the hall.
“Just a sec!” you called out, hurrying to push Trevor off of you and grab your discarded shirt from the floor. You motioned to the closet and he scrambled to hide himself in it.
You tried to push your hair down to make it look mostly normal before opening the door. Jack eyed you up and down. “Is Trevor here?”
You heard a yelp from the closet that you tried to cover up with a cough as you felt heat rise to your face. “No, why?”
“His car is in the driveway,” Jack stated obviously. Another sound from the closet.
“Is there something in there?” Jack asked, trying to peer around the door before you stopped him with a hand to his chest, pushing him back.
You chuckled nervously. “Of course not. Don’t be stupid.”
Jack sniffed the air and furrowed his eyebrows. “You smell like Axe. Why the fuck do you smell like that shit Trevor uses?”
“Better question. Why do you drop by my house unannounced?” you inquired, attempting to deflect the subject onto him.
“Because I can do whatever I want,” Jack dismissed quickly. “Is Trevor in the closet?”
“No,” Trevor said, obviously from the closet.
You dropped your head in defeat as Jack swiftly moved past you into the room. He opened the closet door to find a shirtless Trevor leaning against the dresser.
“Surprise,” he said, rather unhelpfully.
Jack was quiet for a moment, taking in the scene in front of him. Trevor’s eyes flickered nervously to you, but you put your hands up and gave him a look that said, ‘You did this to yourself.’
“You’re boning my sister and you didn’t even tell me?” Jack marveled, sounding rather hurt.
You cringed, wrinkling your nose. “Ew, Jack. Don’t say ‘boning.’ That’s disgusting.”
He whipped his head around, scowling at you. “Is that not what you’ve been doing?”
You shrugged. “There are nicer ways to describe it.”
“You’re really not helping,” Trevor complained.
“I feel like I’ve been cheated on,” Jack said sadly, pretending to wipe a fake tear from his eye.
“Bro, you’re still my second favorite Hughes,” Trevor reassured.
“Second favorite?” Jack reeled.
“I mean, Y/n’s always been my favorite.”
Jack scoffed. “She’s not even the prettiest.”
“Excuse me?” you said. “I’m much prettier than you. In case you didn’t hear, he likes me the most.”
“Ladies, don’t fight over little old me. There’s plenty of Trevor to go around.” Trevor held up his palms, smirking at you both.
Jack looked disgusted. “She can have you, dude. I’m not into Axe body spray anyways.”
“It doesn’t even smell half bad,” Trevor said, mildly offended.
“No offense, Trev, but it kind of does,” you admitted.
“Yeah, and go put some clothes on, why don’t you?” Jack suggested, exiting the room with you in tow.
You stopped him in the hall with a hand on his arm. “Are you really not mad about this?”
Jack shook his head, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “No, he obviously likes you, and besides, I’m not the brother he should be worried about.”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell him to watch out for big brother Quinn.” Jack winked. You shoved at his chest, rolling your eyes.
“Shut up, man.” You looked back into the bedroom to see Trevor fumbling around with the sheets, still looking for his shirt. You watched him with a fond smile, knowing Jack was doing the same to you.
Little did Trevor know, he still had two other brothers to break the news to, and they wouldn’t be as forgiving.
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Winter Fireflies
Summary: Despite knowing Natasha for years and dating her for a while now, you're still unaware of when her birthday is. So when Yelena lets it slip, you decide to give her a small surprise.
Authors note: Happy Birthday Natasha! 💖
Authors note 2.0: sorry this is out so late, I got distracted today lmao. Smutty birthday drabble coming later!
Word count: Marvel Masterlist Nat Masterlist
When you walk into the kitchen, you're bummed by the abscence of Natasha. You’ve been trying to track her down since you’d woken up alone in your bed, and had already looked in practicaly every other corner and crevice of the place. Thankfully the kitchen had at least been nice enough to give up Yelena, and you were sure would know her sisters whereabouts.
“Do you know where Nat is?” you ask, strolling over to the fridge for a much needed bottle of water
She shrugs, “She spends a lot of time alone on her birthdays”
You choke on the sip of water you’d just taken, “What did you just say?!”
“Oh shit” she exclaims, eyes going wide. She knew her older sister liked to keep a lot of things close to her chest, but even she hadn’t seen this coming, “She really didn’t tell you?”
“No.” you admit, turning your head away from the blonde
The two of you have been together for little over a year now, and you’ve been friends for nearly five, so the fact that you still had no idea when her birthday was left you feeling more than a bit embarrassed. Because even though nobody else knew either due to Nat having Fury wipe the more personal info from all her files, you thought that the bond the two of you had that helped forge your relationship would have changed matters for you.
Didn’t she trust you enough by now to let you in? Its not like she hadn’t opened up to you about other things. You knew about most of her experiences in the Red Room, including her massive guilt and her nightmares. You knew about the Ohio mission and her sisterly bond with Yelena. You knew about Dreykov and his abuse. So why was her birthday such an elusive subject?
Yelenas brows furrow as she registers the multitude of different emotions etched upon her features and though this is her sisters fault for not being open with you, she feels guilty for letting the meaning of the date slip
“I am sorry, Y/n. I thought you knew”
You just nod and let the fridge door slam harder than intended, “Not your fault”
You have half a mind to just turn and head to your room for the day and ignore anyone that came knocking. If your girlfriend wanted space and privacy so badly, then you’d give it to her….but the bigger part of you knew you couldn’t do that to her. Natasha isn’t doing this out of spite or to intentionally hurt you, she just gets a little lost sometimes.
“Where does she go?”
“I’m honestly not sure” she answers, afraid she's only dampening your modd “But I know she's always back around dinner”
You glance at the clock and see that you have about three hours, “Wanna help me with something?”
She notices the hint of excitement in your eyes and finds herself intrigued, “I would love to.”
When Natasha had returned to the compound she had expected to find you in the kitchen helping Wanda make dinner, but when she didn’t find you there she imagined that you must still be up in your room. To her confusion however, you aren’t there either, and she feels a twinge of guilt knaw at her chest. She should have told you by now what today was and why it was so hard for her, she knew you’d be understanding. And regardless, should have at the very least have left you a note so you didn’t have to wonder why you’d woken up alone.
“Sestra(sister)”
She spins around in your doorway, “Lena, have you seen Y/n?”
“Funny, I was asked a very similar question from her this morning”
The redhead shuts her eyes, “You must think I’m a terrible girlfriend”
“No” she admits with a shake of her head, “But I do think you are very lucky to have the one that you do.”
Nats brows furrow, “I agree, but why do I feel that has a hidden meaning?”
The younger woman shrugs, “I wouldn’t know, but she's in your room”
Nat nods, and though she's still suspicious she heads off to her room instead. Once there she opens the door and is met with quite the surprise. Right above the doorframe a few streamers are hung, in the corner by her widow is a bundle of different colored balloons, and in the middle of her bed sits you with a couple of boxes.
“Kotenok(kitten), what is this?” she asks, despite the obvious answer. Afterall, she hadn’t told you so why would you celebrate her even if you did find out todays signifigance
“Its your birthday” you reply with a smile, “I know its been a while since you celebrated, so I hope this is okay. I didn’t want to go too overboard on decorations and presents, even though you definitely deserve to be spoiled”
Taken aback by your gesture, she finds herself beginning to get choked up, “I- yeah, yeah. Its more than fine”
“You sure?” you ask, feeling a bit nervous that you may have overstepped
“I’m sure.” she responds, walking twords you, “I’m sorry I never told you, I just…I never had this. In the Red Room, special occasions didn’t exist. And in Ohio, everything about them was fake. There wasn’t any real gifts, care or love and I…I didn’t want that again. I didn’t want a giant fake display of affection meant for show. I wanted something truly meant for me, something real”
You gently cup her face and wipe away the tears that she hadn’t even realized had been forming and slipping down her cheeks, “Well, I can assure you that this is all very real, baby. And all for you”
She gives you a soft smile, “Yeah?”
“Yeah” you assure her, gently kissing her lips, “Now come see what I got you”
Despite her current age, youd think she was a kid again with the dizziness she feels as you lead her over to the bed. You pull over the larger all white box first, and she immediately knows its the kind of box that bakeries have. Her eyes are practically shining with excitement as she looks back at you and you gesture for her to open it.
Inside she finds a white circular cake thats decorated with running gold icing and intricatly made icing flowers. In the middle is a small plaque wishing her a happy birthday, and in all honesty, if this was all she ever got from now on then she’d be happy.
“I hope you like sprinkles, I had them put them between cake layers for you.” you ramble, as you were honestly a bit nervous on how shed react to everything
“I love sprinkles” she says, looking back at you, “And I love the cake. Thank you detka(baby)”
You practically beam at her, “You're welcome. Now, open this”
The next item you hand her is also in a box, only this time its black and definetly isn’t from the bakery. If she had to guess, its some form of jewerly. She takes it from you and opens it to reveal elegant golden bands, one for each wrist.
“I’ve been working on these for a while now, Tony helped design them of course” you explain, “They can do everything your widows bites can. That way, you never have to go undercover, or even to one of Tonys galas, without them again.”
She honestly hadn’t expected you to have remembered the brief conversation she’d had with you about how, despite practically being a weapon herself and always having a hidden gun or blade on her during undercover ops, she just feels like she’d feel more secure with her most trusted tool.
“They don’t even look like weapons.”
You chuckle, “Well, that was kinda the point, so I’m glad to hear that”
She smiles at you and sets the box down to grab your hand, “Thank you, Y/n. This really has been the best birthday”
“Don’t thank me yet, we still have one more thing” you tell her, glancing back over at her window to ensure it was dark enough outside
“Another gift? Detka(baby), you shouldn’t have”
You squeeze her hand, “Actually, this ones from Yelena”
Amused and curious, she follows as you lead her over to the widow and she lets out a soft gasp as she catshes sight of whats just beyond the compound in the woodline. Just on the edge, in a few of the pines, lay stings of light that glow a faint yellow, that flicker on and off in turn.
“Forrest stars”
Its merely a whisper, but you hear it along with the wonder in her voice. You imagine she must be reliving on of the few good childhood memories she has and you can’t help but wrap one of your arms around her and pull her closer
“Happy birthday, baby”
Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @mmmmokdok @nataliasknife @natashasilverfox @when-wolves-howl @danveration @naomi-m3ndez @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @readings-stuff @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @xchaiix @iaminluvwithnat @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories @imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastormm @zoomdeathknight @rayeofmoonlight @aeroae @sashawalker2
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Web of Lies.
Spencer Reid has always been good at keeping secrets. You just never thought he'd keep any from you.
Pairing - Spiderman!Spencer Reid x Female Reader
Word Count - 3750
Age Rating - 18+
Warnings - cursing. mentions of violence and blood. potentially smut in the next chapters.
Author's Note - i am so excited to share this with all of you!! i saw a tiktok comparing marvel characters to criminal minds characters, and couldn't get the idea of spencer as spiderman out of my head. this will absolutely have more than one part, but i'm not sure how many just yet. please let me know what you think!! as always, reblogs, comments and feedback are always immensely appreciated <3
Masterlist. Requests.
Series Masterlist.
You probably should have noticed something was wrong way before you did.
That's the thing about elusive people - and Spencer Reid is one mysterious man.
In many ways, he wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn't filter his words like most people do - he'll tell you exactly what he thinks, exactly what he feels. He doesn't sugar coat, he doesn't exaggerate. You can always count on Spencer to tell it to you straight.
But he's not exactly an open book. You know he had a difficult childhood - you've pieced some of it together based on anecdotes and passing comments. You know he's the youngest person to ever work for the FBI, never mind the esteemed Behavioural Analysis Unit. You know he's gentle, kind, loving, supportive, and the best friend and colleague you could ever ask for.
It's just that some days, it feels like there's still so much you don't know. Which is why you never really saw this coming.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It's Monday.
Spencer Reid has a black eye.
It's not unusual for you to show up to work on Monday with Fridays injuries. Bruises, scrapes, broken bones. They all come along as a part of the job. But the last case you worked didn't involve any physical altercations. No, in fact, it was a surprisingly easy arrest. So why is Spencer black and blue?
He sits down at his desk and turns on his computer, unaware of the way you're watching him like a hawk. Reading him like a book. You're replaying the events of the last case, trying to piece together exactly when Spencer had gotten hurt without you knowing.
"Hey, Spence?" you call, making your way over to where he's sat cross legged in his chair.
His eyes flick up and meet yours, and something in you churns. An alarm bell goes off somewhere in your distant mind, but you silence it, perching on the edge of his desk.
"Are you okay?"
He smiles at you gently, enamoured with the care you reserve just for him.
"I'm good. How are you? How was your weekend? Did you go to the new farmers market in the end? Did you start that book I got you?"
It's not unusual for him to ask you twenty questions at once, so you try to answer them as best as you can, eyes still glued to his shiny bruise.
"Yeah, I'm good. It was good, despite all that rain we had. Luke took me to the farmers market, and we tried these new grapes. Did you know they made grapes that taste like cotton candy? I saved you some, they're in my bag. I'm on chapter three of the book, so nothing has really happened yet. Where'd you get the bruise, Genius?"
You're hoping that your rambling will catch him off guard, and he'll answer without thinking. He looks at you carefully, considering his reply. No such luck.
"Fell in my kitchen. Tripped over my own damn shoes, smacked my face straight into the counter," he chuckles.
It does sound like Spencer. He's clumsy on the best of days, always dropping something or stumbling next to you. It's not far fetched that his own feet have caused him an injury.
You drop the issue, and laugh along with the team when they tease him about his physical ineptitude.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It's Tuesday.
Spencer Reid is a bad liar.
You're both settled into the cushions of your couch, eyes glued to the television screen. You're watching reruns of a 90s sitcom, the laugh track echoing around the apartment.
"That paramedic was totally checking you out today," you tease gently, poking him with your foot.
A blush instantly rises to his cheeks, the rosy tint a familar picture.
"No she wasn't," he counters, tripping over his words. "She was just doing her job."
"If by doing her job you mean undressing you with her eyes, then yes, she was doing her job."
You're both laughing - you at Spencer's bashful expression, him at your obliviousness.
"Are you jealous?"
He means to tease you, but it comes out more serious than intended. Your smile drops into a surprised smirk, eyebrows raising in shock.
You sit in silence for a minute, before you confess quietly.
"Maybe a little."
Spencer tries to process your words, but his brain doesn't want to work, apparently.
"Wait... you are?"
"I guess," you mutter lowly. "I just... forget I said anything. She was really pretty. Maybe I was just a little intimated."
You jokingly nudge him with your shoulder, and go back to watching the TV. Spencer's brain finally reboots and starts running a mile a minute, thoughts flying around like comets shooting through the night sky.
You sit together for hours, slipping into sleep gently. It isn't unusual for the two of you to doze off on the couch. Sleepovers happen regularly, both of you completely comfortable with the other person.
It's 3am when Spencer shoots up, pulling on his converse frantically.
"What's wrong?" you panic, trying to rub the sleep from your eyes.
"Nothing. I just, uh, I have to go."
He grabs his bag and beelines for the front door without so much as stopping to explain himself.
"Spencer!" you call after him, willing him to slow down for minute. "Has something happened?"
"No, it's fine. I'll, uh, explain some other time. Just... just get some sleep. I've really gotta run."
And with that, he's out the door, leaving you bleary eyed and confused in the middle of your living room.
You fall asleep on the couch, head resting on the sweater that Spencer left behind in his rush to leave.
You're half convinced you've dreamt the events of the evening.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It's Wednesday.
Spencer Reid isn't at work.
Spencer Reid is always at work.
Emily regularly has to remind him to take time off. Luke teases that he'll steal his vacation hours if Spence doesn't use them. He's always sat at his desk, waiting for everyone else to arrive every morning.
Which is why his absence is making you worried.
The occurrences of last night are still replaying in your head like a stuck video tape, repeating over and over again. You're over analysing every word he said, every move he made. Leaving in a hurry without reason is so unlike Spencer. You consider supernatural forces, or possession, or Freaky Friday style body swapping. There's no logical explanation for his behaviour, you're convinced. Monday's black eye floats back into your mind, and your heart rate rises ever so slightly.
You march up the stairs and knock on Emily's office window with a bit more force than originally intended.
"Come in."
You swing the door open and slam it shut behind you, anxiety coursing through your veins.
"Hey, hey. Are you alright?" she asks, watching the way your eyes are flicking around the room, looking for clues.
"Where's Spencer?"
"What?"
"Emily. Where's Spencer?"
She gets up from her chair to stand in front of you, placing her hands on your shoulders.
"He's sick, some sort of flu, he thinks. I've told him to go back to bed, and to call if he needs anything."
Her words don't reassure you like she thought they would.
"Did he sound sick?"
"Huh?"
"Did he sound sick, when he called?"
"I don't know, really. I guess so."
"You're a profiler, Emily. You should be able to tell if he's sick or not," you snap.
"Woah," she counters. "What's wrong? Talk to me."
You sit down in the nearest chair, and run your hands over your face.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry," she reassures, kneeling in front of you. "Tell me what's going on, and I can try to help."
"It's nothing, I'm sure," you rationalise. "I'm just worried about him. Something's off, but I have no idea what it is."
You take a deep breath, Emily rubbing soothing circles into your knee.
"You know, if he were to talk to anyone about what was wrong, it'd be you."
"You think?"
"I don't think, I know."
It's no secret that you and Spencer are close. You've been best friends from the minute you joined the team, forming a connection instantly. As the years have gone by, the feelings have gotten stronger, but the both of you are too scared to admit it to yourselves or each other. You'd do anything for him, and he would do anything for you.
"Maybe you're right. I'll go over there after work and talk to him, see if I can get him to open up."
Emily leans down and gives you a hug, squeezing you a little tighter than usual.
"I'm always here for you. Both of you."
"I know," you smile gratefully. "I appreciate it, boss."
Just as you're leaving her office, Penelope calls you all into the briefing room, giving you no time to think about what could potentially be going on.
You look at the victims faces on the screen, and every single one seems to look like Spencer Reid.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It's Thursday.
Spencer Reid is having a panic attack.
He's back at work, making a seemingly miraculous recovery from his short lived illness. You went to his apartment last night after work as promised, but your knocking went unanswered. You don't know where he was, but you're worried.
You've been watching him across the bullpen all morning. You're surveying him carefully when his breathing becomes rapid, eyes flickering around the room. He stands up abruptly, practically running from his desk. You follow him instinctively, all the way into the men's bathroom. He's leaning over the sink, hands gripping the porcelain, knuckles turning white. His eyes are locked on himself in the mirror. He looks as if he doesn't recognise who he sees.
"Spence?" you urge gently, careful to keep your voice low. "Are you alright?"
His gaze meets yours over his shoulder, and he tenses even more. A wave of anxiety rolls through you. Usually, Spencer sees you and relaxes - you're like a breath of fresh air. Suddenly, you're not sure where you stand with him.
"Spence, please. Talk to me. I'm worried about you."
"I'm fine," he snaps.
He's never taken that tone with you before. It doesn't make you as sad as it probably should. No, it makes you angry.
"Don't you dare speak to me that way," you hiss, pointing your finger at him. "I am trying to help you. Don't push me away."
"What's it gonna take for you to leave me alone?" he asks viciously.
Your mouth drops open in disbelief, shock painting your features.
"You know what? Fine. Message received."
You turn on your heel and stride towards the door, stopping when you've swung it open. You look at him over your shoulder, and shake your head, a humourless laugh escaping you.
"Fuck you, Spencer Reid."
You slam the door behind you, leaving him alone, chest heaving and hands shaking.
✵
You're marching back to your desk when JJ calls the team together. You take a deep breath and try to release the anger from your body, but it proves difficult. It's tangled itself around your bones, running through your blood like a flash flood. You paint a smile on your face, and take your seat in the briefing room.
Spencer joins a couple of minutes later, choosing to sit across the table, rather than in his usual chair next to you. Luke takes the place instead, and reaches over to rest a hand on your thigh.
"You okay?" he murmurs lowly, careful to not make a scene.
"Yeah," you whisper back, fingers tangling with his where they rest on your leg. "I'm okay."
JJ pulls up the case details on the screen, and Luke doesn't let go of your hand.
"Where are we jetting off to today?" Matt asks, all eyes on the blonde at the front of the room.
"Nowhere, actually. Local, this time."
Everyone breathes a sigh of relief, glad to stay close to home.
"Okay, the nearest PD have just sent this case through, and it's... weird."
"Weird how?" Tara enquires. It's not often that JJ comments on a case before she's shared all of the details.
"It's a man hunt, of sorts. They're calling him a vigilante."
"Ooo, like a supervillain?" Luke chuckles.
When JJ doesn't laugh, he doubles down.
"Wait, we're not actually catching a supervillain, are we?"
Everyone turns to JJ, who looks just as confused as the rest of you feel.
"Well... kinda?"
You allow your eyes to flick to Spencer, who's still breathing heavily, hand gripping the edge of the table. JJ clicks the remote in her hand, and a picture of a man in a red suit appears on the screen.
"This is the guy they're calling Spiderman. He's been spotted at multiple crime scenes over the last few weeks. He's making a hell of a lot of people very suspicious."
"Spiderman? Why is his costume red?" Tara asks, a hint of laughter in her voice.
"Aren't there red spiders?" Rossi counters.
"Reid, are there red spiders?"
All heads turn to look at Spencer, who's gone completely pale. He tunes into the conversation, clearly not listening.
"Hmm?"
"I said, are there red spiders?"
"Yeah," he replies shortly. Everyone waits for him to spit his facts, to explain the different species, but he doesn't. His head drops slightly, a signal that he's done talking.
Everyone watches him in puzzlement, confused by his sudden silence.
"Anyway," JJ starts, "he's been linked to a number of local crimes. It started off as battery, assault, GBH - but last night there was a murder downtown, and he was spotted at the scene. He's prime suspect."
"Apart from, we don't know who he is," Matt adds.
"Exactly. That's why the police department have called us in. They can't handle it on their own."
Penelope starts to pass around case files, everyone flicking through at their own pace. Spencer doesn't even open his, just stares at it where it sits on the table.
"Reid, are you alright?" Emily asks, concerned.
"I'm fine. I just need some air," he replies quickly, taking his papers and striding out of the room.
You watch him go, squeezing Lukes hand a little harder.
✵ ✵ · ✵ * · ✵
It's Friday.
Spencer Reid is in trouble.
He's in too deep.
He can't remember the last time he took a deep breath.
His shoulders are so tense, it's a struggle to pull his sweater on.
His hands shake as he reads the case file from yesterday again.
Spiderman. Male. Mid twenties to early thirties. Slim build. Tall. Local - knows the area. Must have a connection to the police - perhaps his own radio.
Spencer accidentally knocks his knee into the desk, and winces. The wound he haphazardly stitched throbs beneath his corduroy trousers, and he prays he's not about to bleed through the material. People are asking enough questions as it is.
"Reid, Alvez, grab your jackets. You're going to the crime scene," Emily calls from up the stairs.
You watch as Spencer rises from his chair, making note of the way he's carefully putting more weight on his right leg. He rolls his shoulders once, twice, three times, before picking up his bag and heading out the door. Luke shoots you a wink as he follows him out, making you smile gently.
You decide to take a trip to see Garcia. She always knows how to take your mind off things.
You cruise into her office, instantly sitting in her spare chair, twirling in circles.
"God, you and Genius are like the same person," she giggles. "He does the exact same thing when he comes in here."
You smile instinctively, and then remember the way he spoke to you yesterday. The way he's treated you this week. The way he's acted as if you didn't exist all day. Your smile fades, and she notices.
"Is everything okay with you two?"
You sigh, and take a deep breath to try and prevent yourself from crying.
"I don't know."
"Oh, honey."
Penelope rolls over to you in her chair, wrapping her arms around you tightly.
"He won't tell me what's wrong, and pushes me away when I try to ask. We had a fight yesterday, and now he won't even look at me. I don't know what I've done to make him hate me all of a sudden," you sob, tears running down your cheeks.
"He doesn't hate you," she murmurs soothingly into your hair. "He loves you more than anyone in the entire world."
"I'm not so sure that's true," you whisper.
"It is. I promise you. He's never been good at talking about his feelings. I'm sure whatever it is, he'll tell you soon enough. You'll work this out - you always do."
You let her hold you for a little longer, sinking into her embrace. Maybe she's right. Maybe it'll all be alright.
✵
After work, you try to relax.
You cook dinner, run yourself a bubble bath. You watch a cheesy movie, eat the good chocolate you've been saving. You snuggle into the couch, pulling a blanket over your legs. But you can't settle.
Usually, a Friday night would mean a sleepover. You and Spencer order takeout, tangle your legs together and fall asleep, chattering about nothing and everything. But tonight, you're alone. You can't stand it anymore.
Throwing on the sweater that Spencer left on Tuesday, you slip on your shoes and get in your car. You drive on autopilot, mind zoned out completely. Before you know it, you're parking on the street below Spencer's apartment building.
You're met with silence when you knock on the door. You try again, and still, nothing.
A choked sob escapes you, and you rest your forehead against the wood. The tears flow freely, forming a puddle on the welcome mat.
The welcome mat.
You pull it back roughly, and find the spare key that he irresponsibly leaves there. Letting yourself into his apartment, you inhale deeply. It smells so distinctly like Spencer. The familar scent used to bring you comfort. Now, it just makes you cry harder.
You collapse on his kitchen floor, letting your head fall back against the cabinet. After an hour or so, you allow your eyes to drift closed, knees hugged tightly to your chest.
✵
You're abruptly awoken by a door slamming shut.
You jump to your feet, and let out a startled sound. Running into the living room, you expect to see Spencer, but he's nowhere to be found. You tune in to the sound of running water, and assume he's in the shower. You perch on the edge of the couch and wait.
"What are you doing here?" Spencer asks as he makes his way into the room.
He doesn't sound scared, or confused, or shocked. It almost feels like he knew you were here.
"I couldn't sleep," you reply cautiously. "Where have you been? It's 4am."
"I couldn't sleep either."
"Yeah? Then why are you bleeding?"
He turns towards the mirror on the wall, and lays eyes on a gash across his cheekbone. He definitely didn't see that before.
"Slipped in the shower."
You jump to your feet, rage fuelling your movements.
"Stop fucking lying!"
Now he looks shocked. He's taken aback, stepping away from you slowly.
"I... I'm not," he says meekly. He doesn't even believe his own lie.
"You're doing it again! What did I do, Spencer? What did I do to lose all of your trust?!"
He tries to calm you down, but it just makes you angrier.
"Tell me!" you scream at him. "I'm going insane, Spencer! I'm going fucking insane!"
"It's not your fault," he tries to explain. "You haven't done anything wrong, I promise."
"Then why don't you love me anymore?" you sob. Your knees give way, and you fall to the ground, cries wracking your exhausted frame.
Spencer's heart breaks so hard, he's convicted he can hear it shatter.
He strides over, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can. The contact makes you cry more, tears soaking into his t shirt.
"I could never stop loving you," he whispers. "Nothing in the world could ever make me stop loving you."
You pull back to look at him, astounded by his confession.
"I'm trying to protect you," he continues quietly. "I'm doing this because I love you."
You thread your hands through his hair and pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his urgently. He cradles your face and kisses you back, ignoring the way your tears drip down his face. You tug him closer, desperate for this moment to never end.
He's finally here. Back in your arms, where he belongs.
Eventually, you pull away, gasping for air. He looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and his eyes well up with emotion.
"Hey," you soothe, stroking his cheek with your thumb gently. "It's okay. You're okay. We're okay."
"I feel like I'm drowning," he whispers.
"Whatever it is, Spence, we'll figure it out. We always do."
"What if we can't this time?"
"Then we come up with a plan B. And a plan C. And a plan D. We've got at least 26 plans before we run out of letters."
He chuckles, but there's no laughter in it. You tilt his chin towards you, so your eyes are locked.
"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur. "No matter what it is, I'm not going anywhere."
He takes a deep breath, and releases it shakily.
"Promise?"
You smile gently, and take a deep breath to mirror his.
"I promise."
He nods slowly, and moves to sit in front of you cross legged. You match his movements and do the same, facing him assuredly.
"I have to tell you something. And you can't tell anyone, ever," he begins. "It's going to change the way you look at me. It's going to change the way you love me. It's going to change everything."
"You can tell me, Spence," you reassure. "You can trust me."
Spencer takes a deep breath - and then a second, and a third. His eyes bore into yours, and he inhales again, before uttering the words that will undoubtedly change both of your lives completely.
"I'm Spiderman."
@twsssmlmaa @evansflowers @sourskywalker @butterflylilacsverse @acornacreacure @yourrrrrprefffffect @shadowhuntyi @valenftcrush @n3x5t3rra29 @wittlewowa @slay-hamster2006 @ceruleanrainblues @sad-ass-hoe19 @dezibou @starksfavouritedaughter @lexie0037 @beautyb1ade @spencerzakwrites @thataltdisabledgirl @wannabecoolakid @cassiestars777 @min-jianhyung @lazylexiiii @convolv0 @laurenofatlantis @golden-guide @olive-gb @thebiggestscamislife @wyrdxwitch @rizosrizos26 @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @frogers @sun-fiower-seed @dancinwyourghost
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like literally refreshing the page all the time for more raider!joel.. I just love him I don't know why I can't explain it he's just so..
Gun Hug
3.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader | raider master
mood board by @milla-frenchy
SUMMARY: joel spanks you, kills guys while you c*ckwarm him, and he gives you a gift.
WARNINGS: I8+, canon-typical violence, horniness, dark fluff, Joel's temper, spanking, dacryphilia, humping, threat of sexual violence (not by Joel), cockwarming while Joel kills people, unsafe P in V creampie, scars/injuries, superstrength, dark fluff.
A/N: Prev. story (not mandatory): Close
When you wake up and roll over, you’re surprised to find Joel still in bed. He’s staring at the ceiling. It was a long night. The two of you killed two trespassers, then you patched him up from whatever happened before that. He never explained.
“Morning,” you whisper. You want to cuddle up to him, but you’re still skittish from the time you tried to kiss him.
He glances over at you, but that’s all. A few seconds later he mumbles, “Morning,” still staring at the ceiling. You watch his bare chest rise and fall.
“Who were those guys we killed,” you ask.
He sighs. “From another group.” He glances at you again then does a double take and faces you. His stitches look sexy. He sees you checking them out and it reminds him. His hand comes to his brow.
“Try not to touch it,” you whisper.
He reads your face and asks, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah”
“After-” After you shot that guy Joel thought was dead.
“I’m fine,” you reassure him, and you are. He was more shaken up than you were the night before. Only because he thought you were shot.
He’s quiet for a few seconds then says, “I’d ask where you learned to shoot like that, but I reckon I was there.”
You smile and hide your face.
—---
You’re sitting in the kitchen window nook and Joel is in a chair facing you drinking his coffee, apparently still thinking about it. “One shot, dead between the eyes,” he marvels. “Moving target.” He looks at you skeptically. “You really never done that before?”
“I didn’t say that,” you quietly admit.
“What?” Joel asks. He sets down his coffee and puts his hand on his knee, manspreading. His other elbow is on the table. His breath deepens. His face has a look of betrayal, like you’ve been keeping something from him.
“Not like that,” you backtrack. “I mean, infected. . . I had to try. Everyone does."
He's quiet.
You continue, "Got lucky sometimes. But you taught me how to do it right.”
He slowly nods as though digesting the information. He cocks an eyebrow and looks at you again. It occurs to you he might be seeing you in a different light and you wonder if it's an opportunity. You’re tempted to ask if you can come on a raid again. He hasn’t taken you on one since your failed escape. You keep quiet for now.
“Do you think there are more of those men?” you ask him.
“Not sure, sweet pea.” He looks concerned. He’s not looking right at you.
“Am I staying home today?” you ask.
“No,” he says immediately. "not leavin’ you after that."
It makes your heart swell and you absentmindedly run your fingers over the letters on your chest.
—---
“Lemme see that,” Joel mutters. You pull your shoulders back so he can see and feel your whole chest, lightly running his calloused fingertips over it. You can’t see it very well from your standpoint. Only in the cracked, dirty mirror.
He grazes the mostly healed scabbing and you could swear you see a hint of guilt in his face. But then he says, “Not deep enough." He glances at your face. "Gotta be too close to read it.”
Scared he's going to 'fix it' with his switchblade, you cover your chest and whimper, “No!”
His face hardens. “What'd you say?”
“I’m sorry, I just–it hurt–and if it gets infected this time–”
He bends forward and takes your jaw in his hand. “You say ‘no’ to me?”
"I meant-"
"Get up." He releases your jaw and grabs you by the elbow to bring you to your feet. He turns you around and bends you over the window bench. Then he lifts up your dress and asks, "which side?"
You whimper, "left" because you sleep on your right. He brings back his left hand and to your surprise you feel a wave of arousal in anticipation. You look over your shoulder and bite your lip.
He hesitates for a split second and looks at your eyes then your mouth, then his hand lands on your asscheek with a sting and your yelp sounds like more of a squeak. He lets your dress down and you shrink back into the window bench, wincing as you sit down.
He bends forward and looks at you with his hands on his knees. Your eyes feel weak. He tongues the inside of his cheek and shakes his head.
“I'm sorry," you whine. "Whatever you need to do." Your eyes cloud with tears. You hug a knee, cover your chest with your hand and press your head back against the wall. "It's ok, Joel. I'm sorry."
His face softens but it's too late. A tear rolls down your cheek.
"God damnit," he mutters. He reaches forward to brush the tear away with his thumb. "Wasn't gonna cut ya. Damn." He brushes away another tear off your cheek. He sucks it off his thumb then sits down on the other side of the window bench, facing you. He brings one knee up and leaves the other foot on the floor, mirroring your posture.
"Then what are you gonna do," you sniffle.
"figure somethin' else out." He sighs and opens his arms. "C'mere."
----
He leans back against the wall of the nook. You settle in between his legs and can feel he's getting hard.
He crosses his arms in front of you and inhales your hair as he lightly traces his name on your chest. "It was for your own good, sweet pea," he justifies to himself. "You were real brave."
Then he noses the skin and hair behind your ear. He leans forward, bending you forward with him, dipping his head. He inhales against your neck then lightly caresses the other side of your neck with his fingers. You used to be ticklish there, but you guess you're not now. "We'll figure somethin’ out," he whispers.
He puts a hand on your abdomen and pulls you in close, leaning back against the wall of the nook again. His cock is harder now. He takes a deep breath and slips a hand into your neckline to palm your breast. You sigh and your head falls back against him. He buries his nose in your hair and rests his free hand on your bare knee, then slides it up your leg.
"You got nice legs, baby." His fingers drag up your inner thigh and when he reaches your panties, he lightly drags two fingers up and down the crotch, patiently up and down, with a hint of playfulness. You’re squirming under the light touch with his cock twitching against you. He continues until he feels your arousal soak through, which doesn’t take long. Both of his wrists lift your dress as his hands slide up to your hips and he hooks his thumbs into your panties. You lift your ass and he pulls them off.
He puts a hand on your lower belly again with your panties wrapped around his fingers. You scoot back, pressing yourself into him.
"Good girl." His cock swells harder. He wedges his other hand between your bodies and unbuttons his jeans–
There's a loud knock at the door.
-----
"God fuckin damnit," Joel rasps. He uses his pelvis to push you up off him, the push of his hardness making you throb. When he stands, he doesn't button his jeans. His tank top has ridden up and there's a trail of dark hair pointing down to the protrusion he doesn’t try to hide. He answers the door and holds it open with your panties still balled in his hand. It's Carter, one of the men he trusts as your guard.
"Not a good time, buddy," Joel says.
Carter's eyes fall on the panties in Joel’s hand. Joel doesn’t flinch. Carter awkwardly bumbles his gaze around then says, "well you said to let you know if Jackson came, and he finally did."
"Oh shit," Joel mutters, then his demeanor changes entirely. He springs to life.
"But I can do it for ya," Carter says. “Just take him out if ya want. I dunno when he’ll be back”
"No, no," Joel says. "Wanna do this myself."
Joel leans back and elongates his torso to button his tight pants. "’Don't fuckin' tell anyone I'm comin'. I'm still up here. Shit, I'm nowhere. She's there, I'm not. You keep'em away from the back, got it? Can you get me ten minutes?"
"You got it, boss."
“Gonna be a good day, Carter.”
Carter leaves and Joel says "Shoes on. Now."
You look at the bulge in his jeans, and your eyes must look hungry because he says, "Not now, sweet pea. We gotta move." He puts on a body holster with a pistol over his tank top while you put on your shoes.
You hold out your hand for your panties. Instead, Joel gets them ready and holds them for you to carefully step into with your sneakers already on. You and he pull them up together then he gives your ass a squeeze.
—--------
On the way down the hill, Joel explains the plan. He's going to sneak in through the back with you. He'll be in the room with you. The one with the radiator where you were chained up before. The one where you briefly had company. Carter will mislead Jackson and the others into thinking Joel is gone. Carter will pretend to be pissed at Joel and willing to let them use you. Then if (when) they try, Joel will take them out. Simple as that.
"Nothin's gonna happen, I'll be right there."
—--------
Joel sucks in an angry breath at the implication of those words, even though this is the plan. Carter comes in and signals you to clink the handcuff to the radiator so they think you’re being unchained. Joel pats your head and whispers “It’s okay, sweetpea, go ahead.” Carter takes you to the bathroom, and on your way back, you feel eyes on you. Terrible eyes, like the eyes of monsters under a bed. Your heart races and you feel like prey. You run straight to Joel. He opens his arms for you and you get in his lap facing him.
You and Joel make it into the room undetected. It feels like you’re waiting a long time. You have one wrist handcuffed but you’re not cuffed to anything. You’re laying on the cot and Joel’s sitting in front of you. “What the hell are they doin’,” Joel mutters under his breath.
Finally, you hear indistinct voices, then Carter telling the men, “Gimme a few minutes, lemme take her to the bathroom and lock her up again.”
You hug him tight and bury your face in his neck, handcuff digging into his back. Your breath is shallow and fast. Joel is facing the door and watching for Jackson with you wrapped around him. Carter comes back and says “They’re gonna eat first.”
“God damnit,” Joel says under his breath and begins to recline back against the cot. He puts his elbows and forearms down so his head is up but his back is flat on the dirty mattress. He's holding the pistol with his finger on the trigger. You’re still wrapped around him as he reclines back.
“Can I be like this,” you whisper and look up at him, still straddling his lap, folded at your hip in some version of child’s pose with your head now on his chest and arms to his sides.
“Mm-hmm,” He nods with a straight face, his eyes still glued to the door. His stitches make him look even more serious.
There's a gunshot outside and a plink. "Shootin' cans," Joel shakes his head.
-----
Joel adjusts his hips slightly and you feel his arousal swell under you. He takes a deep breath through his nose and his free hand begins to play with your dress. Again it feels like you’re waiting forever. You adjust your arm so the handcuff isn’t digging into the same spot on your wrist. Joel’s hips shift under you again and he twitches under you, still unrelieved from when your breakfast was interrupted.
Your hips reflexively roll into his and a quiet growl escapes the back of his throat. You inhale sharply and he grunts with a lift of his hips. You look up at him and he nods to where your loins are throbbing needily against each other. He rises up a little. His left hand squeezes your thigh.
You sit up and reach for the button of his pants, the handcuff dragging against his jeans. He nods. You look behind you, afraid of either of you being surprised. You start to say "I-" but you don't. You didn't mind the spanking this morning but you wanna be good for him. Your core is rapidly moistening itself, but you assume he wants head. Joel keeps his eyes on the door as you unbutton him. You stall by running your hand up and down his hardness and he lets out a low sigh that makes you twitch. A throbbing desire to have him inside you is beginning to drown out everything else.
You slowly tug the zipper down and hesitantly look up at him. Then you look behind you again.
His voice is deep and soft. “Eyes on me, baby.” Your head snaps back to face him. He only glances at you briefly before returning his gaze to the doorway.
You finish unzipping him and slide your hand without the cuff into his pants. You gasp when you hit the warm, smooth skin. He gently thrusts into your hand. You smear his precum around the tip, then begin to get off his lap to suck it. But he sits up enough to grab your arms and pull you back toward him. You scoot forward again, and he nudges your dress over his cock. Then his hips press his naked arousal against your mound and you feel its warmth through the soft, thin fabric of your panties. A wave of desire rushes through your whole body.
It’s crazy, this is crazy, and so is Joel, but you trust him. He'll keep you safe. He wraps his left hand around the base of his shaft. He has his pistol ready in one hand and his cock ready in the other. You lift yourself over his tip and pull the damp crotch of your underwear to the side, careful not to let the handcuffs hit his cock. You moan softly when the swollen head hits your dripping folds, and he sucks in a chest full of air. You take his cock in your hand and use the head to nudge your folds open, wedging the tip into your entrance with the aid of gravity as you let yourself down. You look at Joel and he swallows, eye fixed on the door, finger on the trigger.
You sink onto him and as your tight, dripping sleeve consumes his shaft, his girth pushes a moan out of you. Joel sits upright and pulls you down, bottoming out with his mouth shut, lips in a straight line, determined not to make a sound. He lets out a breath through his nose.
“Tell me you didn’t get started without me,” Jackon’s voice echoes from the hall.
"Ears," Joel whispers. For the echo. You sit perfectly still, impaled on his stiff cock and bring your hands to your ears, handcuffs jingling, then dangling from your wrist. Boots clap in the hall and a belt buckle clinks outside the doorway. Jackson chuckles darkly. Joel aims the gun toward the door with both hands, his biceps lightly squeezing your hands on your ears, further dampening all sounds.
Jackson walks in and says "whoa, oh–"
Joel’s biceps flex against the backs of your hands. A gunshot, a grunt, a cry, then another shot, and the thud of a body falling into a heap.
"That's right," Joel mutters. “Piece of shit.”
Then he murmurs into your hair. "You did good, baby." You bring your hands down to his sides.
Joel begins to rock his hips, moving you on his cock.
More footsteps approach from the hall, then a man’s voice. "Jackson? I wasn't ready, man."
"Ears." Joel stops moving his hips. His eyes are wild. He straightens up, resuming the same position as before with his biceps pressing against your hands on your ears as he points the gun. You’re sitting there full of his cock.
The other man rounds the corner. He registers who he’s looking at and gasps, "Joel." You can only imagine the look on his face. "I wasn't–" his voice is shaky with guilt and fear.
“Yeah,” Joel says darkly. “Me either.” His cock twitches inside you. His arms flex. Just one gunshot this time. Joel sighs then wraps his left arm around you, leans back, and holds the pistol against the mattress. He thrusts up into you with a wild look behind his eyes.
"Thank you," you whisper. Now you have two less of those heinous men to worry about. Probably the worst two.
Joel shakes his head and squints at you as his cock moves inside you. "'s'my job," he pants, his eyes still alive. It’s a mystery where bloodlust ends and the lust begins. "Nothin' more important," he adds.
He thrusts up sharply and you gasp. He braces himself with his gun hand on the filthy mattress as he sheathes himself deep inside you, making you so full. He moves a little further in short pulses with each flex of his hips. The pit of your stomach begins to buzz.
Carter Knocks and says, "That's it, they're leavin'. Want me to. . ." Joel doesn't acknowledge him. Instead, Joel looks at your face, watching the pleasure weigh your eyelids down as he fucks you from the bottom. You see the hint of a softer smile behind his maniacal eyes. Carter's footsteps recede.
—
Joel nudges you up, helping to lift you off his cock, and you whimper, "no." You look back at the bodies out of morbid curiosity but he wrangles you onto the mattress face down with a forearm on your back and you can't see. You lift your ass and tilt your hips for him.
"Good girl," Joel breathes and peels off your panties for the second time today. He lines himself up with your cunt again. Then he hovers over you with a hand on the back of your neck holding your damp panties against your skin.
He plunges into you with a groan and you hum “mmm.”
He retreats then bottoms out again. "Ohh, fuck." He pounds you fast and rough, grunting and breathing heavily. “Yeahh.”
You moan on the verge of bliss. He slams his hips into you harder and asks, “that feel good?”
"Yeah," you manage, the force of his thrusts punching the air out of you.
Joel grunts and growls as he rails you. He hovers over your back. Your orgasm gathers tighter and tighter with each sound he makes, each firm drag of his cock. Then it bursts in your core and you groan into your arm.
"It's ok, baby," his hips keep moving. He lowers his speed but maintains his power.
You moan as he fucks you through it.
"Fuck," he pants, and thrusts harder, "god damn, you choke it good." You sigh as your body stops jerking but continues to be pounded. “Ohh, yeah.” He slows a little more. “Ohhh, fuck.”
Joel glances across the room to the floor and begins to pull out. He hasn’t come yet. You beg "please, I want it." He pauses and tilts his head at you. “Please, inside” you plead. You look back over your shoulder at him and push your ass back, sheathing his cock entirely once again. His hair is wild and his chest glistens. The hint of a smirk plays on his face. Joel nods then slowly pushes all the way into you again with a grunt. He backs up and slams in. “Want it, don’t ya.”
“Yeah,” you whine.
“Want it to trickle down those pretty legs.”
“Yeah.”
He buries his length in you a few times fast, and you feel it coming. He slows way down. He plunges into you with a groan and begins to pulse as he bottoms out. He repeats this, slow and hard as his balls empty. You close your eyes and feel him fill you up like a hug from the inside. He vocally sighs as his cock pumps into you. Like something intimate he can’t give you any other way. “Yeah,” he pants as he finishes. His big hand squeezes your shoulder before he carefully pulls out.
Then he puts your panties back on you, and takes the handcuffs off your wrist. He sits on the edge of the cot and helps you off of it so you stand between his knees. He fixes your dress and your hair. “You did good, sweet pea.” He looks from your eyes to your mouth, then abruptly stands up. He puts his arms around you loosely, putting his body between yours and the ones on the floor as though protecting you from the scene. He nudges you toward the door and down the hall.
Joel lets you rest on a cot in the unloading room while he sorts through some things and has someone take care of the bodies. He doesn’t ever leave the room, he just barks orders and keeps you in sight.
—
That night, Joel is heating up some spaghettios and you’re in the nook looking out the window. He’s looking good, still wearing the body holster, muscles pumped up. He comes and sits down next to you. He spreads his knees and looks around the kitchen, then reaches for the pistol. He takes it out of the holster, checks to make sure the safety is on, and hands it to himself so he’s holding it by the barrel. Then he hands it to you. “This is yours now.”
“Really?” You try not to let your eyes well up in tears, but it really moves you.
Joel nods twice, then something flashes across his face and he swallows. “You’re brave, sweet pea.”
You put your arms around his neck and climb into his lap facing him with your wrists crossed behind him, gun in one hand. Joel meets your hug, wrapping his arms around you tight, pulling you into his chest. After a moment, he pulls his head back enough to plant the lightest kiss on your forehead.
Then he clears his throat and nudges you off of him. “Don’t want it to burn.” He goes back to the spaghettios.
------
------
RAIDER POLL
FAQ: pregnancy HC. raider has a vasectomy. so why was he gonna pull out? To use his cum for a deranged display of dominance
------
Thank you so much for reading. If you liked it, please consider commenting and/or reblogging. It doesn't matter how many followers you have if any, if still means a lot. I really appreciate your engagement!!
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and @gab-thelamb-onthemoon i hope you like it ily <3
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Alpine
prompt: in an effort to help your boyfriend with his trauma, you rescue a furry feline together - a white cat named, Alpine - who rescues you both in return.
pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!Widow!reader
fandom masterlist: Marvel
word count: 6.9k+
note: been seeing a lot of Alpine recently and got inspired.
second note: no, it's not comic / canon compliant so just have fun. author did some research but there's not a LOT written / known about Alpine, so, again, just have fun!
warnings: post Endgame, pre tfaws; cursing, Lord's name in vain, small angst, mostly hurt and comfort, Nick Fury calling reader a bitch playfully, Bucky's trauma responses, small spoilers, Dr. Raynor / therapy.
other works with Widow!reader and Bucky
NOT necessary to read
read here: Damage Done
"Are you angry with me?"
"No."
"Disappointed? Annoyed? Frustrated?"
"No, doll."
"Then why won't you talk to me!?"
"Nothing to say."
You wiped a hand down your face, lifting it only to pinch the bridge of your nose. Your head shook to shake away your thoughts, sniffling emotion, sighing when you dropped your hand to slap against your thigh. "I'm really trying here, Bucky, I swear to you, I am. But I can't help if you don't talk to me," you softened your voice, beginning to understand this was a losing battle.
"I never said I needed help."
"You never have to ask me for help, Bucky, I just give it because I want to! Because I love you! That's part of being in a relationship!"
"Maybe I don't want it!" Your boyfriend snapped, rounding on you with unfiltered emotion in his eyes. The horrors swam in his baby blues, vivid memories he was unable to escape haunting him, terrorizing him; creating a shell of a man who could no longer hide his avid pain. "Did you ever think about that? Ever consider that I don't want your help because I don't need it?"
"Everyone needs help sometimes, Buck."
"No, not everyone - I'm not one of your pet projects, you don't get to treat me like a broken thing that needs fixed! I certainly don't need your pity - not yours."
"I don't pity you! Fuck's sake, Bucky, I love you and want to see you heal. I know you better than anyone - "
"You don't," he sneered, cutting you off. "You don't know me, not really, not as well as Steve - "
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Steve isn't here! He's not coming back!" You snapped, instantly regretting it when Bucky's eyes coated with glassy emotion he fought vehemently to keep down. "I-I'm sorry, that was - that was really mean of me and totally out of line," you apologized, both sighing deeply. "All right, look, let's just talk this out, please."
"There's nothing to say."
Your hip cocked, arms crossing, "She called me, you know."
"Who?"
"Dr. Raynor."
"Fuck's sake," he growled. "Why would she do that?"
"Maybe because today's session was, apparently, supposed to be a couples session. She thought I was refusing, called to say I was impeding on your progress and if I want to help you, I'd have to show up to your appointments. Which is really funny because you never told me about today, so I had no idea what the hell she was talking about - but that didn't stop her from tearing me a new asshole!"
He frowned, avoiding your eyes. "I didn't need a couples session. Not today, I just - I wanted today to focus on other shit."
"And I can respect that, but you're not doing yourself any favors by hiding shit from me. To get the best results from therapy, you have to actually do the work, and not just do what Dr. Raynor says, but actually listen to her advice - "
"I don't need you on my back about this, Raynor does that enough for you both," Bucky growled. "I do the fucking work - I'm the one in that room, I'm the one applying silly little rules to my life - "
"Obviously not if you didn't even tell me Raynor requested my attendance! You should've told me, and then you should've said you weren't ready! I would've respected that, but I can't do a Goddamn thing if you don't talk to me!"
His jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth, skin twitching and distinct muscles tightening. "Like I said, there's nothing to talk about," he practically spat, shaking his head at you before grabbing his sneakers from the closet.
You didn't mean to sound harsh, but demanded, "Where are you going? We're in the middle of a conversation."
"No, we're not, 'cause I'm ending it," he scoffed, sitting on the corner of your shared mattress, exchanged his shoes. "And I'm going for a run, need to clear my head."
You shook your head before leaving the bedroom, "Absolutely unbelievable."
Bucky left your shared apartment a few minutes later, somewhere you've only lived five months - the time it's been since Tony Stark, Iron Man, snapped the other half of living beings back into existence. He lost his life in return, the ultimate sacrifice, but he managed to reverse the damage Thanos created five years prior. Five months of living in this apartment without a lick of warmth, personal touch, or real sentiment; it being dreary, dark, and mostly empty. Hell, Bucky didn't even feel comfortable in bed, so he camped in the barren living room, giving visual to the way your relationship was beginning to fray, unravel, crack.
He didn't want anything personal in your apartment - thinking it was ridiculous to settle down after all you two have endured, witnessed, and fought for. You agreed to keep things at the bare minimum, only stocking what was necessary, knowing this was part of his healing process and didn't want to drum-up further anxiety. It made everything impersonal, boring, bland, and down right depressing - but it was a small accommodation you could provide your lover.
You hated the distance. Hated how alone Bucky felt after Steve. Hated how reclusive he became, the anger he projected. Hated how no matter what you did, you weren't enough - not this time. For years, you've loved him despite his flaws, his brainwashing, his trauma responses, but whatever he was enduring now was something you weren't equipped to handle. Didn't mean you weren't willing to try, but Bucky was the one pushing you away; thinking his demons were his sole responsibility, never letting you be the pillar that helped support him. God, you hated the distance.
You left the apartment, too. Nick Fury had employed you for creative, solo, high profile missions; wanting to utilize your Widow training, especially now that Natasha Romanoff was deceased. And you wanna know what? Bucky hadn't even asked about her, never tried to offer comfort, only quietly attending the funeral service you hosted with the remaining Avengers to give her a proper sendoff - despite there being no body. Bucky knew you and Nat were as thick as thieves, family without blood, two lost souls who leaned on each other in trying times; bonded by trauma, encouraged by resounding bravery, disciplined by strength. The fact that your boyfriend never even checked in with you after Nat's passing obviously hurt your feelings but you remained silent.
Again, to avoid generating more anxiety for Bucky.
You met the one-eyed man at a local, bustling coffee shop, finding the sight of the hardened, burly man eating a scone amusing. "Got you one of these," he nudged a dessert plate to your side of the table when you sat down with your desired coffee, "know you like 'em."
"Blueberries are my favorite," you half-smirked, regarding the moist muffin and sighing sadly. "All right, sir, what's on the docket?"
He stared at you for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before leaning back in his chair. "The fuck's going on with you?" He asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You look different today."
"Mh," you nodded, joking, "got a hair cut."
"No, it's your aurora. Something bothering you, kid?"
"You do realize I'm a fully grown adult, right?"
Nick shrugged, "I don't see age."
"You don't - nobody sees age, Nick, Jesus."
He took a sip of his green tea. "There's still something bothering you. Not sure if you should go on this mission if you're wound tight."
"I'm just dealing with shit at home."
"Oh, right, the cyborg. How is the hundred year old psycho?"
"You you want me to stab out your other eye? 'Cause I fucking will," you threatened with a fork clenched in your grasp, perking your brows up your forehead. "Say that shit again, see what the fuck I do, Nick, I absolutely dare you."
He chuckled, hands held in defense, "Sorry, sorry, that was uncalled for. What's wrong with Sergeant Barnes?"
You shrugged, "It's complicated."
"Bitch, aliens opening a wormhole in space and time to invade Earth is complicated - relationships aren't. Try me."
After an amused chuckle, you told him, "He's struggling right now. You know? After everything, it's been a lot for him and now that things are relatively back to normal, he's having a hard time trying to assimilate himself back into the populace. You know, learning to live in this day and age - a man out of time, outside his comfort zone, forced to adjust himself after living as a weapon of mass destruction for so long. Add in the fact that his best friend passed, marking another forceful adjustment he's unprepared for..."
"Hm," Nick nodded, "heard he's got a full pardon."
"He does."
"Which has a contingency he's gotta go to therapy, right? Part of rejoining society?"
You nodded, "Right, again."
"So he's in therapy and still struggling?"
"It's not like there's an on-off switch, Nick, therapy takes time and dedication. I just don't think he feels at peace, calm, in control - like he deserves any of this; the pardon especially. Think the stress, fear, and confusion is eating at him."
"Well, he's got you."
"I'm not his mother."
"No, you're his girlfriend, and it's a girlfriend's responsibility to support him, ain't it? Help him through this?"
"I can only do so much, Nick," you scoffed, "I'm just one person and he's a stubborn jackass - he just pushes me away. I'm sure I don't help the situation by accepting your contracts."
Fury considered your words for a long moment, then asked, "You said he's lonely?"
"Wouldn't you? Given his situation? He won't say, but I know losing Steve caused a part of him die."
Nick shrugged, "So get him a dog."
You never wouldn't guessed those words could ever pass Nick Fury's lips, head cocking, eyes narrowing, arms crossed over your chest. "I'm sorry, do what now?"
"It's obvious, ain't it? Dude needs company when you're gone, a sense of purpose, to feel like there was something - or someone - depending on him. Might help whatever limbo he's lingering in."
"A dog?"
"A dog. He can take it for walks or whatever."
You considered his recommendation, asking again, "A dog?"
"Do we need to get your hearing checked again? You lose the last functionality of your ears? Yes, a dog."
"I don't know..."
"It's just a suggestion, might promote his peace, help him process grief and guilt. Telling you, a dog would do him good. Now," he took another sip of tea, "onto business."
"You give me whiplash," you chuckled. "What's this job?"
"Simple and easy," he pulled up a tablet from the chair beside him, tapping it three times and handing it to you.
"None of your jobs are simple or easy, Nicky-Nick."
"I told you, don't call me that. Look, I just need you in London to investigate a string of potential terrorist activity. Just some recon, you won't be gone more than a few days - if you behave and stay on task."
You scanned the document, "When do I ever do that?" He chuckled briefly, you wondering, "Flagsmashers? Jesus, what a name. C'mon, you can't be serious. These guys are just radicals - you know, trying to vouch for those displaced after the Blip. It's actually kinda endearing, I mean, they're trying to give a microphone to those without a voice."
"They're escalating - too quickly," Fury informed. "They haven't raised any international flags yet, but something ain't right about them. I just need you as eyes and ears, maybe report if you think they're worth the worry."
Little did you know, in only about a month, you would join forces with Bucky and Sam Wilson - The Falcon - to dismantle the organization.
"When do I leave?"
"Tuesday would be ideal. But I can push it to Friday if you wanna go get that dog."
Your laughter was endearing, handing the tablet back over.
Bucky liked holding hands, though, he often wouldn't ever voice it. It made him feel tethered, anchored to reality; instilling a sense of pride to have such a gorgeous lady - such as yourself - at his side. However, the part he liked most, was being reminded he wasn't alone; even when on crowded, overpopulated streets, he didn't have to be afraid because with his hand in yours, he looked just like everyone else. You protected him even without intending to or without even knowing what you were doing.
"I'm sorry about yesterday," he sighed, people on the street sidestepping and avoiding running into you two. "I was upset, stressed out, you know how I get after seeing Raynor."
"It's okay, baby," you assured, ever the patient, loyal, and supportive girlfriend he needed. "I'm not holding it against you, but just promise me, when you're ready, you'll tell me."
He nodded, "I will - I mean, I promise." You hummed and pet his bicep with your other hand, giving his arm a hug. "Now are you gonna tell me where we're going?"
"I told you, it's a surprise."
He was ready to reply when a small commotion echoed from the alley you were passing, Bucky coming to a jarring halt that yanked on your arm, swinging you around. You were ready to ask what was happening when you clocked one of Bucky's "friends", an older man named Yori Nakajima, arguing with one of his neighbors.
"Hey, hey, Yori," Bucky intervened, you watching from the mouth of the alley, "woah, hey, what's going on?"
You couldn't hear whatever Yori was saying, but Bucky turned to the other man and growled something at him that made the neighbor scurry off. He glared at you, lip curled in a sneer, disappearing amongst patrons of the crowded sidewalk. You frowned and approached Yori and Bucky, your boyfriend still trying to calm his friend - well, 'friend' was a very generous term. See, Yori was the father of a young man that died by the hand of the Winter Soldier, being a name on Bucky's list he needed to make amends with.
However, when you took your place beside Bucky, Yori was waving you both off and shuffling down the alley, towards one of his apartment building's doors. "What was that all about?" You asked softly, taking note of the disgruntled expression your boyfriend usually wore these days.
"Just," he sighed, shaking his head, "Yori's upset with some of his neighbors - thinks they're encroaching on being disrespectful."
"When doesn't he?" Bucky sighed, you wondering softly, "You think you're ever gonna feel ready to tell him?"
"I'm working on it," he sighed sadly. "All right, c'mon - "
You both paused with furrowed brows when there came a series of shrill meows from under a couple of soggy, cardboard boxes beside a dumpster. "Did you hear that?" You asked.
"Uh-huh."
Another elongated meow was heard, Bucky curiously approach the discarded trash coated in sewage sludge. He slowly squatted, you approaching his shoulder when another meow cried out. Now, normally, you'd never investigate animal noises out of fear they were feral and carrying disease, but something just felt sad about what you heard - apparently, to Bucky, too. Gingerly, he reached out and lifted a piece of dripping cardboard, seeing a bundle moving under the next piece. He moved that one, too.
"Oh, my God!" You cooed when a tiny kitten was revealed. White fur was stained with dirt, sludge, and other nasty juices; nose pink, eyes a piercing, clear blue with brownish tear stains rimming them. The kitten mewed in greeting, pacing a tight circle before trying to back up in the brick wall; hunching its back and hissing slightly when you lowered yourself into a squat beside Bucky. "Baby, it's all alone, should we help?" You pouted.
"I don't think it wants our help, doll," he sighed. "It looks scared of us. Bet the mother's around somewhere, be a shame to move it if she's coming back."
"It looks too skinny, maybe it's alone?"
"Or maybe it's not," Buck countered. "C'mon, sugar, we can't take it."
After a bit of back and forth, you finally relented and had to walk away. You frowned for at least two blocks, but upon your halt at a crosswalk, you were greeted by another shrieking meow. Whipping around, you and Buck both looked down to discover the wee little kitten had followed you and was practically yelling for your attention. You grinned.
"Well, now we really have to help it," you told Bucky.
"How?"
"We take it to a shelter," you answered, shrugging, "good thing I know where one is."
"What's it doing?" Bucky asked nervously, the kitten dancing around your legs; brushing up against you both, meowing the whole time.
"I think she wants you to pick her up," you smirked.
He sighed and stooped to scoop the little creature in hand, regarding it carefully; weighing it, checking paws and other vulnerable spots. Bucky muttered, "All right, yeah, fine, let's take him to a shelter. Little beast needs some food it feels like, definitely a flea bath and some fresh water."
"You big softie."
"Lead the way to the shelter, princess, c'mon," he ignored your jab, tucking the kitten into his chest protectively. "He feels fragile," Bucky worried, "maybe you should carry him, I might crush him."
"You've got the little babe, Buck," you assured, "you're not gonna hurt him - I mean, if it's even a him."
"By the attitude, could be a girl," he joked, making your heart lighten. He'd been in such a funk that you missed his teasing, soft words; the little jokes he cracked, his smile - God, you missed seeing his smile. During your time on the run after DC, while seeking refuge in Bucharest for a couple years, you grew accustomed to seeing his radiant smile; remembering how easily he offered it when just the two of you. For a moment, you considered how your relationship was no longer just you and Bucky - but his trauma, too.
Arriving at the shelter, it was like an assault on the senses. Dogs were heard barking from the kennels, the pungent smell of urine and wood chips smacking you in the face, and a sort of humidity lingering in the air - a sharp contrast to the crisp outside.
"Hi," you greeted the receptionist, offering a kind smile.
"Hi, there. How can I help you two?" The man with long hair asked.
"Well, uh, two things," you explained, "one: we'd like to tour your kennels, we're interested in adopting a dog - "
"We are?" Bucky gaped.
" - and two: we found this little fella in an alley," you pointed to the kitten curled protectively against Bucky's warmth. "We wanted to make sure he was okay, maybe leave him here for adoption?"
"Oh," Man Bun blinked, regarding both Bucky and the kitten, "wow, uh, yeah, that's really nice of you guys, rescuing the little guy. You know, since everyone came back few months ago, there's be an influx of strays. A lot of people gave up their animals when their loved ones came back."
"Well, that's super fucked up," your eyes rolled.
"Tell me about it," he sighed. "Look, I'd love to help you guys out, so, tell you what. I can let you back in the kennels - no problem! Help match you to your new companion, but, uh... I don't think I can help you with the cat. You see, we, uh, we've had to start euthanizing the overflow animals or the ones who don't get adopted in a timeframe. We're at our max capacity, so... If you wanna leave him here, uh, I can't promise he'll have a place."
"You'd put him down?" Bucky growled.
"It's not what we want to do," Man Bun swiftly explained, "but it's just necessary - we don't have the room or resources to take him."
"Do you know of any no-kill shelters? Maybe one that has room?" You asked, feeling Bucky's disgust rolling off him in waves.
"Not in the area," Man Bun frowned. "Honestly? I think the closest no-kill shelter's in Maryland. Maybe Virginia?"
"Jesus," you frowned, looking at Bucky.
"Look, my best advice?" Man Bun offered, "Take the little tike home, clean him up, and call around to other shelters to see if they have space. But if you intend to adopt a dog, maybe bringing back a kitten isn't the best timing. If you give him up to us, he'll probably be sent directly to overflow..."
"We'll take him home," Bucky instantly decided, shocking you.
"We will?" You asked softly, lips curling in a small smile.
"Why not?" He sighed.
"I would've thought you'd be more of a dog person..."
"I'm not an animal person, but we're not leaving this little guy here just for him to be euthanized. We can handle him for a few days, you know, until we find a shelter with room."
"I think that's a great idea," you grinned.
"But was this your plan? For us to adopt a dog?"
"Well, yeah..."
"Why?"
You shrugged, "Just thought a dog would be nice company when I'm outta town for work. You know, could go on walks or runs together, you'd have someone looking out for you, maybe a dog would help with your stress levels?"
He eyed you for a moment, sighing, "I appreciate that, doll. Maybe another time, though? At least let us find somewhere or someone to take this guy."
The kitten gave a prolonged squeak - seemingly agreeing. "All right, noisy, we hear you," you chuckled, giving the kitten's head a scratch. You asked Man Bun, "Do you guys have the means to check him over, you know, before we go home? Make sure he's not injured or something?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "let me go get one of the technicians."
After the tech's exam, you were given the paperwork from that day's visit, the name, number, and address of a recommended vet, and before you knew it, found yourselves at the local pet store. You would've been ashamed by the absurd amount of money you spent, but Bucky rationalized the need because you weren't sure how long your new companion would stay with you. So, you ransacked the store, buying a sizable litter box, 50 pounds of actual litter, a bag of kibble, case of wet food, several different treats, a balm for the baby's feet, too many toys and stimulation activities, a carrying case in the event of transporting the kitten, and a tiny collar - if you decided to keep the little noise machine.
The sight of Bucky with the little fuzz ball warmed your heart. He still seemed hesitant and stiff, as if afraid to hurt the kitten, but he wasn't so tense anymore. However, he handed the pet over for you to hold while he carried the supplies back home; biceps bulging to support the weight. In that moment, walking familiar streets with his arms full of cat supplies, he questioned how he got here - to feel all domestic and out-of-place. He was Bucky Barnes - a Sargent in the Army, prolific hitman, something of an Avenger now. He didn't adopt cats and buy toys!
However, watching you talk to the kitten softly, he smiled - something small at first that grew like a germinating seed to split his face. You seemed so... Bright, excited, rejuvenated, even. He knew the past five months since the Blip had been rough on you, what with losing Natasha, fighting Thanos and his army of aliens, then ricocheting into 'normal life' only to deal with his emotional baggage. Watching you walk down the street with a fuzzy white ball of energy, pointing out different things, cooing and narrating the city to the kitten as if he could understand was refreshing after seemingly seeing nothing but a frown on your lips recently.
To Bucky, as long as you were happy, he was happy - and it seemed you were very content with your new little buddy. So, he was happy with your new little buddy and figured a dose of domestic life wasn't the end of the world. In fact, he actually felt... Intrigued by the newest addition to your little family.
When you returned home, it was to an empty apartment. Bucky dropped the supplies in the living room, hands to his hips, looking around, "Well, uh... At least there's room to run around, right?"
You nodded, "And no risk of ruined furniture."
"Yeah," he sighed, watching you set the kitten down. "All right, pip squeak. C'mon, lemme give you the tour - pay attention. So, in here," he moved around the wall, kitten following and listening intently, labeling, "this is the kitchen, this is where you'll get your meals - and no, you're not allowed on the counters." He pointed a warning finger, "Don't let me catch you up there or there's gonna be hell to pay. I don't wanna find your hair in my morning bagel."
"Buck, you don't eat breakfast."
"Fine, then I don't wanna hear my girl found hair in her bagel."
The kitten mewed loudly, trotting to keep up as Bucky walked around the barren apartment - giving a literal tour. You unpacked the supplies, setting up a raised food bowl beside a full water bowl. You left the treats in an empty cupboard, the litter box ready to use in the bathroom, and tossed some toys around the open, empty living room floor. You meandered, stashing other supplies, hearing the scampering thuds of excited little feet.
When your head popped out of the kitchen, you grinned at what you saw. Bucky was sat on the floor, flicking a feathered stick over the hardwood floors for the kitten to race around and try to catch. The longer you watched, the more defenseless Bucky seemed, and dare you say it, he looked calm - maybe even happy. His eyes were locked on the animal's antics as if he didn't want to miss a single movement he made; small smile making him look younger and brighter.
You made a mental note to thank Nick Fury for his suggestion. Sure, he actually said to get a dog, but this kitten seemed to have the same effect.
"Hey, baby?" You called, hanging up your phone after calling the recommended vet. "So, uh... Listen, you know how I have to go outta town on Friday?"
"Yeah?" He glanced up, letting the kitten wrestle his booted foot.
"So, I managed to get a vet appointment but it's for Friday. Is that okay? Or do you want me to reschedule for when I'm back so we can go together?"
"Oh, uh, no, that's all right, sugar, keep the Friday slot. I can take him, it's not a big deal."
"You sure? I hate having to saddle you with this responsibility."
"I'm sure," he nodded, "I can take him, it's okay."
For the rest of the week, you had a front row viewing of an incredible bond being formed. The kitten liked you, you two had many moments together, but it was obvious the little guy adored Bucky. He was stuck to your boyfriend like Velcro, following him everywhere, shrieking for attention when Bucky was preoccupied, liked being held when he cooked, even tried to get in the shower with Bucky. They played together, Bucky's laugh warming the entire apartment; positively obsessed with one another, the little guy even sleeping between you and Bucky.
It was as if you both forgot to look for the kitten a permanent home, the lack of furniture providing wide space for play and entertainment. Bucky even got one of those cat trees, couple individual scratching posts, and a laser pointer that drove your furry friend up the wall. There was some unspoken rule about naming animals - where if you named them, they were yours officially. So, one evening over dinner, you proposed a few names, Bucky giving his opinion; but then you began to consider "theme" names. Because your little buddy was white, you mused over names like Noelle or Snow, but finally settled on Alpine after narrowly beating out Aspen.
The day you flew to London, you warned both Bucky and kitten to behave themselves. Later that night, while you were sat in a tinted SUV for surveillance, your phone rang with Bucky's contact. "Hey, baby, how's it going?" You answered, refocusing through your advanced camera lens to snap necessary photos.
"Good, yeah. Uh, how's London?"
"Pretty dreary, it's been raining all day. Hey, how was the vet appointment?"
'Oh, yeah, no, it was, uh, yeah, it was good. Gave Alpine a buncha shots, microchipped her, started her on antibiotics - "
"Did you say, 'her'?"
"Yeah, that was the other thing - turns out, Alpine's a girl."
You chuckled, "Well, I'll be damned. How're you feelin', Buck?"
"I'm... Okay."
"I'm sorry I'm not there," you sighed. "Nightmares again?"
"Yeah."
"Sleeping in the living room?"
"You know it."
"TV on?"
"Reminds me I'm not where I dreamt I am."
"Well, I'll be home in a few days."
"What's this mission?"
"Just a little recon, I'm only to observe. Nicky told me to keep an eye on some suspicious activity."
"Don't tell me you're sitting in a white van?"
"No, sir, it's a Rolls Royce this time," you chuckled.
True to your word, you were home by Tuesday night. The transatlantic flight was long and tedious; a storm creating steady turbulence, making it absolutely impossible to get any shut eye. When you landed, you made a beeline to the Starbucks and got the largest coffee possible with an added 2 shots of espresso before exiting the bustling airport. Outside, waiting at the curb, Nick Fury himself stood before a sleek and shiny car that probably cost more than a 4-year education at an American university.
He smirked, "Welcome back, kid."
"Nice of you to pick me up, Nicky-Nick."
"Don't call me that."
"Don't call me 'kid'."
"Get in the Goddamn car, I'm not having this argument again."
After storing your luggage, Nick drove you back home while listening to your mission report. You didn't think the Flagsmashers were extreme enough to warrant intervention, but all Nick heard was that now was the time to strike before there came the need, before a chance for escalation could occur. You left the tablet full of notes, observations, photos, and data with the one-eyed man, and before you fully departed the car, paused to lean in the open window.
"Hey, uh, I've been meaning to thank you."
"What for?" Nick asked, face hardened in a permanent look of disagreement. You never took it personally - Nick Fury having professional Resting Bitch Face (RBF).
"Your advice about getting Bucky a dog."
"No shit," he chuckled, "you actually got him a dog?"
"Uh, well, no..."
"What'd you get?" Nick asked in suspicion, watching your lips roll between your teeth to restrain your smile. "Ah, hell no! You didn't! A cat? A fucking cat?"
"I know you don't like them - "
"Bitch! One scratched out my eye!"
"But our cat didn't."
"Doesn't matter - fuck all them felines."
You laughed and slapped the metal door, "Well, thank you anyway for the idea of a companion animal. Bucky's a lot calmer it seems."
Nick Fury sighed, waving you off like a pesky insect. "I'll call you when I got another job. Have fun with the little demon."
"You talkin' about Bucky or Alpine?"
"The cat - wait, Alpine? The fuck kinda name is that?"
"You know, Alpine... Like the Alps?"
His head shook, "I know what fuckin' alpine is."
"Why don't you head off - looks like you're gonna give yourself a stroke. Didn't realize getting a kitten would stress you out this bad."
"Get out my Goddamn window and I can leave."
You grinned and dropped a wink, again, patting the car and stepping back onto the sidewalk. Nick peeled off, leaving you alone to shoulder your duffel bag and head inside your apartment building. When you got to your desired location, the door opened without the usual creak, Bucky obviously WD-40'ing the hinges. "Hello?" You called softly, hanging your keys on the little peg in the foyer, toeing out of your shoes, glancing around the empty apartment.
Ready to call out again, you actually almost choked on air when you inhaled but stopped abruptly. You pouted your bottom lip at the sight of Bucky sound asleep in his nest on the floor, TV's lighting flashing and creating shadows, giving clear sight of Alpine curled in a tight ball on Buck's chest. His flesh hand was raised to rest on his chest, keeping Alpine cuddled to his warmth.
Quickly, you pulled your phone from your back pocket, snapping an adorable picture of your boyfriend before silently tiptoeing away to dispose of your duffel and purse. You sent the photo to Bucky's phone, positive you were keeping the kitten. After a long, hot shower that washed the travel from your body, you changed into loungewear, pulled your hair back, then reentered the living room where you knelt at Bucky's side. In-sync, your presence made both Alpine and Bucky flinch awake - your boyfriend jerking away from your warmth as the kitten hopped off his chest.
You winced, "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, baby, I didn't mean to wake you."
His head shook, "No, it's all right, doll, I wasn't sleeping."
"You were, don't deny it," you grinned, settling on the mound of blankets.
Bucky chuckled gently, "I tried to stay up for you. C'mere," his arm opened in invitation, smirking gently. You settled down and turned into his side, his arm now coiled around your form, constricting to pull you closer so his lips could plant on your forehead. "How was London? Your mission?"
"Easy peasy," you sighed, "nothing too strenuous or stressful. The most 'complicated' part of the whole thing was using a different car each day to avoid suspicion."
"Hmm... Who was the target?"
"Some radical group," you sighed, head resting on his pectoral. "How was it? Just you and Alpine?"
"It was pretty good, nothing to complain about. She's nice company."
As if understanding she was the topic of conversation, Alpine mewed several times in a row as she walked up the seam of your body pressed to Bucky's. She turned in two circles before settling down between you; your grin authentic as a manicured fingernail extended to scratch her head.
"Actually, sweetheart, I've been thinking..."
"Hmm? About what?" You mumbled, eyes drooping with each passing second.
"About how we should keep her - Alpine, we should keep Alpine."
"You're just figuring that out now?" You teased, sluggishly lifting your head to smirk at him. "I knew she was ours the moment you picked her up. It'll be nice having her around, don't you think? I know she's not a dog you can take on walks but with Alpine, you don't have to be alone."
He nodded, "I like that idea. She's a good cat."
"Check your phone in the morning."
"Why?"
"Mmmh, I sent you a picture, you'll see - but it's just confirmation that Alpines part of us now, part of our crew."
"Our family," Bucky agreed softly. He watched you resettle on his chest, spending the following couple hours in the glow of the TV, watching you and Alpine. Bucky's heart warmed to a degree he's never known, making the comparison of himself to Jim Carrey's, the Grinch - a movie you made him watch. Eventually, exhaustion outweighed his domestic thoughts; falling asleep with you safe in his arms and Alpine curled up between you.
"Well, this certainly is a surprise... I was beginning to think James made you up."
"Oh, please, nobody could make me up - I'm too complex, nobody's got that kinda imagination," you smirked, legs crossed, seated beside Bucky on a sofa; both facing his therapist.
"I'm glad you could finally join us - I've been asking James to bring you for a while now," Dr. Raynor's eyes darted between you and Bucky, making you feel as if she was seeing right into your soul. However, her tone was accusatory, as if scolding Bucky.
So, you swiftly defended, "Well, I'm happy to be here. Bucky's one of my top priorities, I'd do anything for him - including attending any of these silly mandated sessions. Which are bullshit, by the way, because he's not the Winter Soldier anymore so why is Bucky being crucified? Why is this being pinned on him when he technically didn't do anything? The Winter Soldier did."
"Well, healing often takes time and dedication, and must be done in a series of steps. That's how you see real progress. These sessions are a condition of his pardon - "
"I can't believe your government would even enforce these silly little rules considering Bucky's assistance. He fought against Thanos, he fought on our side, and by all means, helped restore what was lost. I just find it pretty dehumanizing to force him to jump through hoops. I mean, for Christ's sake, half the universe was snapped away, you'd think after that, there wouldn't be need for pardons or contingencies - or for holding onto grudges."
"This is simply how we keep order in a post-Blip society. Everything changed in those five years, it's necessary to keep balance amongst all worldly citizens."
You scoffed lightly, "Ever consider these sessions might be doing more harm than good?"
Raynor frowned, "Despite the Winter Soldier being decommissioned, James still has trauma to process and skeletons to clear out of the closet. Yes, the Winter Soldier is gone, but the man remains - and James needs to focus on healing that part of himself. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't Bucky's doing, but he still remembers all he did, which creates a heavy toll on the mind. That's part of the reason these sessions are mandated - because the assassin might be gone, but the residual effects still linger."
You hummed, "Well, let's get into it, Doc."
"You know... I've heard a lot about you. James paints you in a very bright light, says your bark and bite are equally as vicious."
"Hm," you nodded, brows perked, "yet I don't know shit about you."
"Perfectly natural. Typically, most people don't gossip about their therapists. It's nice that you could join us for this session."
"Nice to be invited."
She clicked her pen and settled her pad securely on her lap, just staring at you and Bucky for a long moment. You were ready to snap at her when she opened her mouth, "So, I hear you adopted a cat?"
"We did," you confirmed.
"Alpine," Bucky supplied, body rigid with tension and nerves.
"Right... Alpine," Raynor nodded, leaning her elbow to an arm of her padded chair. "How did this cat come into your possession?"
"We rescued her from a dumpster," Bucky answered stiffly.
"Really?" Raynor perked both brows.
"She was under some pieces of cardboard, screamin' her li'l head off," You chuckled. "Though, I think it's safe to say she chose us, adopted us as caregivers."
"How's that?"
"She wouldn't let us pick her up and we were afraid to take her in case her mama was lingering around. Turns out, she followed us. We were at a crosswalk when she caught up, demanding we pick her up and take her home."
"Is that so?"
"I'd like to think so," you nodded. "We were already on our way to the shelter, so, we took her with us, got her checked out."
"Why were you heading to the shelter to begin with?"
"Oh, uh, to adopt a dog. I had a colleague recommend an emotional support animal - or a companionship animal - to help Bucky feel less alone."
Raynor made a note of something. "You work often?" She asked.
"Often enough that I feel guilty for leaving. Figured getting a dog would instill a sense of dependence, you know, help Bucky feel like there was someone depending on him. Help usher in comfort and stability, help keep him calm, focused, distracted. But Alpine does the same thing - no dog necessary, apparently."
Raynor nodded, her wrinkles dimpling as she frowned and wrote down another note. When her eyes lifted, so did her lips; a smirk on display as she praised, "I actually think that's a wonderful idea. You know, there's been a lot of research about soldiers with PTSD benefitting from an emotional support animal. You're right, they promote peace, stability, distraction - gives patrons a tangible purpose, taking care of another life not their own."
"For sure, again, anything to help," you agreed, holding Bucky's gloved hand he kept covered by leather - only worn in public.
"Although, I wonder, why get a pet? I ask because James speaks highly of you, credits you for keeping him stable and on-track. Do you feel as if she's not enough, James? Is that why you kept Alpine?"
"No," he answered instantly, "she's my best girl and will always be enough. Watch your mouth, Doc."
"But sometimes extra help is nice," you tacked on, tightening your hand in Bucky's. "But for what it's worth, Dr. Raynor, Bucky keeps me sane. I keep him balanced. We keep each other safe. Alpine's just an added bonus, a quiet menace to help quell the business of our brains."
Raynor smirked, "I must say, you surprise me, Miss."
"I'm no stranger to mental health. But as I said before, I just want to help." You looked up at Bucky, finsihing softly, "He deserves peace in this lifetime - and if a little ball of fur can help, sign me up..."
requesting rules and masterlist
Marvel masterlist
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How They ...
A/N ::: I probably should have done these in different order (bedtime first) but oh well. I'm in a very HC headspace right now. I hope you guys enjoy. Horrific typos? lmk. Thanks!
C/W ::: Oral sex (nothing TOO graphic though - I think)
MDNI Under The Cut, Please
⊰ Go down on you
⊰ Draken ::: Is either slow and methodical or will devour you.
⊰ Mitsuya ::: Prefers to take his time and do it "correctly" (hint: "correctly" is how you taught him through your non-verbal cues. God help me, I'm so in love with him)
⊰ Mikey ::: For real, whatever, however, wherever, whenever he wants. But you always walk crawl away with newborn deer legs.
⊰ Baji ::: Sloppy. Sloppy sloppy sloppy and it's the most marvelous sound in the world, you think. It's so loud and wet and squelchy (shut up, it is a real word) that you don't know if you're getting off to the sensation of him rockin' your world, suckin' on your clit and tongue-fucking you or the lapping noises he's making.
⊰ Chifuyu ::: Prim and proper until you're about to cum. Then he has fun with it. Gets a little sloppy but that's only because Baji told him that you like it so much so he tries it out on his girl and "I'll be damned," he'll say to Baji, "she came all over my face, man!"
⊰ Hanma ::: Wild card. Sometimes the two of you will be laying in bed watching tv and he'll shimmy up over to you and push your shorts/panties aside and lazily finger and lick you. Sometimes he will throw your dress or skirt over your head and eat you like a man on death row. Sometimes he will eat you so thoroughly that you're sure you'll be sensitive for a week. But most of the time you can count on it being from behind. As I've said in the past, Hanma likes you face down, ass up.
⊰ Kisaki ::: Is surprisingly good at this. But he won't give you what you want right away. He likes to take his time with you; to tease you. On a few occasions he's gotten crazy with it (I'm talkin' glasses-fogging-up-and-crooked-on-his-pretty-face crazy). You're just so damn happy when he looks up at you and starts crawling backwards that you don't even care how he does it ... just that he does.
⊱ Get Ready for Bed With You
⊱ Draken ::: Makes sure you don't need anything else before he lowers his towering body down next to you and tells you "Yes, I made sure the doors are locked. But baby, I don't know why you're afraid. I'm here." He smiles at how you flipped the covers back for him and slinks down onto the mattress, scooting over as close to you as possible. He sleeps on his back mostly so you can rest your head on his chest, under the warmth and safety of his left arm.
⊱ Mistuya ::: Likes to brush his teeth at the same time you do and will use the other end of the towel you're using to dry his face off (at the same time). Follows you around to make sure things are locked up and turned off. Puts his hand on your lower back as you climb over the bed to your side and pull the covers back. Likes to sleep with his right arm and right leg draped over you in the winter (the extra heat and closeness never hurt anyone, right?). In the summer lays on his back, sprawled out, like he's in the beginning phases of making a snow angel.
⊱ Mikey ::: Likes to watch you do your routine before bed. He likes it even more when you're feeling playful and smear a little of your nighttime lotion on his face. He will joke about how he's really noticing a change in the elasticity and evenness of the skin on his face. You both have always kind of gone to bed at the same time/together, unless his boys are over. In which case he will come climbing into bed later and that's ok with you because baby boy is a bed/blanket/pillow hog. He 100% of the time always has to have his cheek pressed to your chest. Says he likes how soft and warm your boobs are and that the sound of your heartbeat is the most pretty lullaby he's ever heard. *Still shares his favorite blanket with you.*
⊱ Baji ::: Purposely waits for you to finish brushing your hair so he can start to brush his hair with your hairbrush. Then he will come pouting and stomping into the bedroom where you're already settled and comfy, whining about how his arms are tired from fighting and can you please brush his hair (you do it better anyway, something about less split ends). He has literally fallen asleep on top of you. And no, it's not like that. He just loves being super close to you and if that means behaving like a cat, so be it. Also really likes how it feels when you're sleeping on him (anywhere/any part of his body. his legs, his chest, his shoulder. He loves that you trust him enough to be unconscious around him - that's never happened with anyone before. I mean, you can't entirely blame them - no offense, Baji!)
⊱ Chifuyu ::: He will use the time that he's waiting for you to clear out of the bathroom to feed the cats that hang around your place (he knows you like to have a little time to yourself at the very end of the day to unwind in peace and quiet). But once that's out of the way, he likes to walk around with you and talk about your days/what you have planned for tomorrow. He will ask if you packed your lunch for work for the next day and if you haven't he will ask if you want him to help you or if you'd like him to bring you something when he closes the pet shop on his lunch break. "Maybe we can have lunch together?" His green eyes and sweet smile are so potent that you can never say no to him (you even offer to buy when you two meet up the next day at the place you both agree on - damn, he's good0). Once the two of you are all snuggled in bed, he will ultimately change his mind about how he is laying and roll over, throw his arm over your waist, kiss your shoulder and tell you he loves you and he hopes you have sweet dreams.
⊱ Hanma ::: He doesn't really have any routine at bedtime other than one more smoke, pissing and making sure you're coming in "sometime soon." He likes to hold you once you're both in bed but I think he likes to be held a lot, too. For all of his bravado, there's definitely a part of him that wants to be wanted for more than a pair of fists. When he's deep in sleep, he thrashes around like a drowning drunkard. Is a human furnace. Likes to have fanS (yes, plural) pointed at him from all different directions.
⊱ Kisaki ::: Has a more in depth bedtime routine than even you or your girlfriends combined. He showers every night. And don't count on or even try to join him unless he gives you "the look." He takes cold showers and is in and out in less than 5 minutes. It's just to wash the day off of him before climbing into bed - which we all know, is a sacred space - and such spaces should be kept tidy. He has a glass of water on his nightstand and a case for his glasses to rest in while he isn't wearing them. Prefers to keep to himself mostly unless he knows you're having a bad time of things or he just wants to cuddle with you. It's ok, though, because his hands and feet get freakishly cold (regardless of the season) and if he were to touch you in the night, it would startle the hell out of you.
@viburnt @darkstarlight82 @kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @southside-otaku @katkitkats
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Please Don’t Go | JJK
Pairing | Jungkook x Reader
Word Count | 12K
Genre | Spider-Man! Jungkook x Childhood Best Friend! Reader
Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you.
Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line.
A/N | Something kind of different than what I normally write, but I’m excited about it nonetheless!! It’s sad, cute, exciting, nerve wracking, etc. I also just love the concept of Spider Kook more than I can even explain.
All throughout your childhood years, you constantly swore that you could never truly hate Jungkook. The both of you grew up together, lived in the same apartment building with guardians that knew each other. You were always over at his apartment for annual holiday parties, or play dates (which you’re pretty sure was just babysitting because your parents worked so much.) Even in school, you both gravitated towards each other due to matching intelligence and thought processes. You can't recall a single school project that you’ve done without being partners with Jungkook, or at least in the same group. Sure, you two would play fight, argue, bicker back and forth about stupid things, or wrestle, but never truly get to a point where you hated one another. However, as you sit in class on the first day of class after break, you’re fuming. You swore you could never hate him in your entire lifetime, but right now, it’s pretty damn close. You can't think of a time where you’ve been this angry at Jungkook, face red as you fight off the urge to interrogate him to hell and back.
“Hey, are you okay?” Jungkook’s voice calls softly from beside you, almost in a whisper as class begins. You don’t even answer him, simply glancing over before returning to stare down your syllabus as you struggle to control your thoughts. You genuinely can’t understand how he disappeared all summer without a single text, call, letter, email, anything before showing back up like nothing happened. Even when you went to his aunt's apartment to check up on him (he went back home for break), she simply told you Oh, he didn't tell you? He went on a summer trip, I don't remember all the details. Before sheepishly closing the door in your face. Jungkook never keeps anything from you, you’ve told each other almost everything, that’s just what best friends do. You honestly can’t help but feel hurt that he wouldn’t think to tell you about his 2 and a ½ month summer trip before leaving. “Are you mad at me…why are you mad at me?”
“You disappeared all summer!” You mumbled, promptly being stared down by the professor and the few people around you. Finally looking at him dead on, you can’t help but notice that he looks almost completely different. It seems like he’s grown over the summer, both in muscle and height. The stupid science pun shirt that he used to wear religiously is fighting for its life, stitches straining around his bicep. If he flexed his arm, they would most likely bust apart. His hair is also much longer, dark brown locks being tucked behind his ears as he breaks eye contact with you, red face going back to his syllabus. “Why does it look like you’ve been eating steroids for breakfast and working out 24/7 during the past month? Seriously Kook, what is going on? You can’t just leave and not say anything before suddenly showing back up in the fall semester?”
Now it’s his turn to take glances at you, mouth opening and closing a few times as he struggles to answer your questions. As you wait, his face only gets increasingly red as he stumbles for an answer. He's been dying to tell you everything, truly, but he’s just not allowed to. It’s not exactly a rule put in place, but he was warned extensively of the danger that comes with sharing his secret. If you were ever hurt or in danger because of him, he doesn’t think he could ever forgive himself. He definitely wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he wasn’t able to save you. “I just, I can't tell you. Definitely not here, not now.”
“Okay? So after school? Come over, I got lucky and my roommate isn’t gonna be home for a couple of months to study abroad.” You can feel your anger subsiding now as you talk to him normally, as if he didn’t disappear over the summer. Having him explain his disappearance while also hanging out for the afternoon almost feels like an instant relief to your summer long headache. “Also, we should see if the coffee shop still makes those sandwiches, like the little slider ones! We can stop by before we go to my-“
“Uhm…I can’t hang out after class today.” Jungkook states, almost so quietly you couldn’t hear him. He can already tell what you’re going to ask next, sinking down in his seat as if that will avoid your wrath. He feels horrible as you ask your next and final question for the day, stomach immediately dropping.
“Why?” You’re genuinely curious. You can't remember any clubs that he’s in that take place on this day, nor any other school events. Maybe an orientation of some sort that you didn’t see on the announcements? Maybe he has a doctor appointment?
“….I can’t tell you.” You're mad again.
You ignore him for the rest of the morning class, promptly shoving your notebook into your bag when the professor ends class. As you prepare to walk to your next class, you want to scream as you realize Jungkook has an almost identical schedule to you. Curse the both of you for having the same major. Jungkook follows your routine, quickly packing before exiting the lecture room, also going to the same exact math. “Listen, I want to tell you! Really, I do! It’s just I can’t.” He tries to explain without giving too many details that would compromise his identity, especially in the middle of the campus. “I've been dying to talk to you all summer, I've really missed you, you know?” He pleads his case.
“Kook, just leave me alone for now. Summer sucked because you just disappeared off the face of the Earth, and suddenly you’re just back like nothing happened. You didn’t even text me!” You mumble, sighing at nothing in particular as you finish your sulking. “I just need time to get over your sudden secret-ness from me.” A part of you wants to turn around and laugh with him, but you just can’t. It’s genuinely something that’s been bothering you and for some reason you just can’t get over it. Class goes by relatively uneventfully, the two of you barely talking. You soon come to realize that, without yours and Kook’s endless bantering, the day goes by extremely slowly.
The day ends and much to your surprise, Jungkook is almost sprinting out to the parking lot as soon as your final class wraps up. You have nothing in you to catch up and follow him, simply walking to the coffee shop by yourself. This truly does suck more than you thought it would.
While you and Jungkook were in the middle of a fight, you can’t help but become concerned as he slowly stops attending classes. He's barely ever in physical class anymore, maybe attending one day out of the entire week. Honestly, you’re unsure how he’s even still enrolled in the courses. Despite not attending often, you come to find out that he’s still enrolled, teachers constantly calling his name for attendance and getting silence instead. He's even dropped out of his clubs, which is even more concerning. Putting all of your pride aside, you decide to stop by his dorm after class today. You’re pretty sure he mentioned having a single room this year, no longer having a roommate for a bit.
Knocking on the door hard, you only hear silence in the room. There’s not the slightest shuffles that would indicate someone getting up and walking over to answer. You don’t even hear anything playing, nothing but silence and the faint conversation of other students down the hall. “Kook, if you’re in there, I’m not mad at you. Can we please just talk for a bit? I’m worried about you.” You explain, fidgeting with your fingers as you stand in front of his door. “If you don’t wanna talk, just text me? Please, Kook.” Another period of silence passes before you’re leaving with your head down.
Hi Aunt Yoon, did Kook happen to visit home? I haven't seen him a bit.
Uhm, yes actually! He’s here right now.
Great! I’ll stop by, be there in a bit.
Next stop is his childhood apartment to check up on him. Aunt Yoon is quick to open the door on the first knock, a bright smile plastered across her face as she welcomes you into the apartment. It's the exact same as always, pictures plastered across all of the walls with little to no walk space left due to furniture. It's cozy.
“Hi Aunt Yoon! I wanted to check up on Kook, I haven't seen him in a bit.” You smile, scratching the back of your neck as you stand in the middle of the walk way. She stares back at you for a few moments, not saying anything.
“Uhm, he’s not here. He just left actually, right after…you texted me. Do you want a sandwich while you wait for him?” She smiles, going to the fridge to pull out one of the pre-wrapped sandwiches you and Kook always used to share when you were young. You quickly take it and thank her before realizing what she said exactly.
You’re all types of confused now, never knowing Jungkook to be someone that seems to actively avoid seeing you. He's always come whenever you called, studied and hung around your apartment before heading home. You’re the same for him, the both of you being there whenever the other needed it. “He’s not…avoiding me? Is he?” You can feel your eyes begin to water. “He just hasn’t been coming to class recently after I got onto him. …I feel bad.”
“Oh no! No honey, it’s not like that. He just had something to do, that’s all.” Standing in the same exact spot, you observe Aunt Yoon, nervously rubbing and cracking her knuckles repeatedly. You raise an eyebrow at the behavior, pointing to her hands questioningly. “Oh, uhm. Kook told me about the little fight you guys are having, that’s all.”
“It's just, it’s not even a fight. I'm just confused and he can’t explain anything to me.” You sigh, frustrated. “Do you mind if I wait here for him? I can go to his room if you’d like your space out here.” You mumble, slowly shuffling down the hall towards his room. Since you’ve been friends for so long, it’s not awkward being in his room so you have no problem just waiting around for him. You jump back as Aunt Yoon quickly cuts you off, slamming both palms on either side of the hallway walls. The confusion just doesn’t stop growing. You raise your eyebrows, lamely clasping the sandwich in front of you as you step back towards the living room. “Okay, uhm. Or I guess I can just wait out here for him.” You feel incredibly stupid as you plop down on the sofa, getting comfortable as you wait for him.
Aunt Yoon is a nervous wreck, but she’s trying (and failing) to not show it to anyone. She almost died on the spot when Jungkook told her his secret, half voluntarily and the other half was a result of being caught with his mask in hand. She wanted to scream, cry, hold Jungkook in her arms, and scold him all at once. After a very lengthy talk at the dinner table, both of them sitting on opposite ends (awkward), she finally decided to let him continue his superhero side job. Despite her reluctance, she trusts Kook and made him promise he would try his best to be safe. Well, as safe as you can be when fighting criminals on the street. Aunt Yoon understands why you’re mad at Jungkook, but understands that it’s not her place to tell you. After making sure you sit down, she makes a beeline for his room, staring at the old spider suits that are currently laid out on the floor. Secretly, she pats herself on the back for her quick thinking, regardless of how messy the save was.
“Uhm, Aunt Yoon? Do you know when Kook is coming home?“ You ask from the couch, feeling as if you weren’t allowed to move away from it without being ushered back. Your sandwich is still wrapped on your lap, feeling too awkward to open it. Silence fills the room once again as Aunt Yoon fights for an appropriate answer that’s not too alarming.
“Uhm, usually around 11 these days. He’s been really busy recently.” She smiles, twirling her hair as a nervous habit as she soothes her anxiety. You quickly conclude that if you ask doing what, or why he gets home so late, you won’t get an answer. If anything, Aunt Yoon might have a nervous breakdown if you question her any further, so you decide to leave it. You nod at the answer, directing your attention to the sandwich that remains untouched. While Aunt Yoon is acting weird, she makes sure you’re comfortable in the living room before heading back to whatever she was doing before you showed up. Turning on the tv, getting you a drink, handing you a throw blanket for the couch. You settle in for the long wait, laying down and watching whatever plays on the tv.
SPIDER-MAN SHOWS UP ONCE AGAIN TO SAVE THE DAY!!
SPIDER MENACE IS ONCE AGAIN TERRORIZING CITIZENS OF SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA!!
SPIDER-MAN IS A NEWLY FOUND HERO!
ONCE AGAIN, UNKNOWN HERO REFUSES TO REVEAL IDENTITY.
You quickly click away from the news channels. Truthfully, you have no opinion on the new hero that seems to be taking the entire country by storm. You’ve never had any interaction with him so far, so you genuinely haven’t been able to gauge who he is without the influence of biased news outlets. All you know is that there’s even a club for him at your university, the students all competing to get the best Spidey photo. Surprisingly, you drift off to sleep without realizing.
You startle awake, heading a chorus of groans and crashing coming from down the hall. It doesn’t sound like Aunt Yoon, meaning Jungkook must’ve just gotten home. Weird, you didn’t hear the front door unlock and open. “Kook?” You call out, rubbing your eyes before making your way down the hall. Still half asleep, you knock on his childhood bedroom door. “Jungkook, is that you? Can we talk?” His door slowly opens, revealing a very disheveled and tired looking Jungkook. Seeing him for the first time in what feels like months is off putting, making you stumble over yourself for words that properly explain what you're trying to convey. “Uhm, hey. You uh, stopped showing up to classes and I got worried. And I went to your dorm and uhm, no one was there, heh. And dropped out of your clubs, and got home really late…” you're definitely rambling now. “I guess I wanted to check up on you to make sure you’re alright.”
Jungkook is at a loss for words. “No, yeah, I'm alright! I've just been really busy with stuff outside of school. Personal stuff. Uhm, how have you been!?” He’s trying to desperately change the subject, flashing his signature bunny smile as his last card. It almost works, almost, until you spot the cut he’s currently sporting across his brow.
“Kook…what is going on?” You mumble, reaching out to hold his head before he has a chance to back away from you. You catch it just in time, pushing his hair back that he was using to hide it. It’s a deep cut, blood soaking his hair and brow. It’s threatening to drip into his eye, making you quickly wipe it with your finger. Not showing up to class, coming home late, getting injured after coming home? You’re more confused than ever, stomach dropping to your feet as you can only think of the worst. “Are you street fighting?” You mumble, grabbing tissues as you wipe some of the blood away.
“No! No, of course not!” He pulls your wrists away, giving his brow one hard wipe before throwing away the tissues. Seeing you so worried about him makes his stomach lurch, threatening to spill every single secret that he’s kept from you so far. “Shouldn’t you be getting home? It’s almost midnight and everything.” He smiles, once again changing the subject.
“You're kicking me out now. Please Kook, I’m not mad at you anymore, I'm worried about you. And the more I try to find out what’s going on the more and more I'm worried!” You're fighting back tears now, trying increasingly hard to keep your resolve in front of him. “Even Aunt Yoon is acting weird! Acting like I'm some stranger that you guys have never met before. Blocked me off from going into your room like I was some stranger, did her nervous hair twirling and knuckle cracking, and didn't know what to say when I talked to her. Now you, disappearing from everything with barely any explanation! Never being at the university and coming home all beaten up! I didn’t even hear you come in through the front door which is weird, you always make so much noise.” You ramble, becoming more frustrated as Jungkook can only stare at you wide eyed. His heart is beating erratically in his ears, wanting nothing more than to wrap you in a hug and explain everything to you. He hasn’t seen you this upset in years, tears threatening to fall down your cheeks.
“Please, Y/n.” Jungkook mumbles, letting his head drop as he avoids making eye contact. “I wish I could tell you. Here, you can sleepover tonight and tomorrow we’ll both drive back up to the university-”
“Just tell me! Whatever it is there’s no way it can be that bad, we’ve known each other since we were toddlers. Kook….please. Don’t make me worry like this.” Tears are slowly streaming down your face, voice wavering with every word you speak. Your lips threaten to let out sobs in between each word, fighting them back to keep your resolve and tone. Regardless, your resolve isn’t enough to get Jungkook to tell you anything. He continues to avoid eye contact as he talks once again.
“Y/n, please. Let’s just go to sleep.”
Your stomach falls to your feet, heart feeling as if it were about to jump out of your throat. In a flurry, you can only say the first thing that comes to mind.
“I hate you Jungkook.”
The hurt is evident all across his face, shoulders slightly flinching from your cold statement. He's completely unprepared, staring back at you like a deer caught in a car's headlights. He's never heard you say those words with any true meaning, only jokingly a couple of times. Hearing them makes his heart beat increase, hands instinctively reaching out to pull you towards him. As he gently grabs your shoulders, you jerk out of his grasp and back up towards the door.
You can't take it anymore, spinning fast on your heels and almost running out of the apartment. A part of you wants to scream at Jungkook, the other cries into his arms as he comforts you. You decide that neither one is appropriate and going to your car to cry is likely your best option. Ignoring him as he follows you out, mumbling excuses to the best of his ability, you make it out of his apartment in record time. It feels like you’ve just lost Jungkook entirely, sobs wracking your entire body as you shuffle through the building stairwells. You could help him, you’re sure of it, if he would just let you. You’ve never not been there when he’s struggled in the past, and seeing him block you out feels like betrayal. You’re defeated entirely as the cool night air envelops you, continuing your pity party late into the night.
After maybe three hours, the rational part of your brain forces you out of the driver seat of your car and back up to Jungkook’s apartment. You’re about to knock when it’s ripped open, causing you to flinch away. “God, Kook!” You mumble, eyes wide as you stare at him. “You scared the shit out of me! Listen, I won’t ask about it anymore tonight. I’ll leave it alone.”
“C'mon, let’s go to sleep Y/n.” Jungkook calls softly, pulling you underneath his arm and into the apartment. He easily leads you to his room, handing you clothes to change into. You want to continue arguing with him, but you just can’t. You change in the apartment's small bathroom, tired body shuffling into his bed. “You need to cry?” Jungkook chuckles softly as he takes his place next to you, pulling your body close to his chest.
"...Yeah." Jungkook knows you extremely well, and now is not any different. He comforts you in one of the only ways he knows how, which is physical affection. It's always been a staple of Jungkook's personality, his love language being physical touch once he's comfortable being around you. Your face is shoved into the soft cotton of some stupid science shirt, tears soon to be stained into it. "Kook, why were you still awake?"
"Just thinking about things, couldn't fall asleep." That makes you cry, Jungkook letting out a small chuckle at you before wrapping you tighter in his arms. He makes sure you're comfortable, yanking the blankets over the both of you and making sure you have at least one pillow. You bury your face into his shirt, allowing yourself to get everything out (as much as possible without snot dripping everywhere.) Jungkook comfortingly rubs your back every now and then while playing with and stroking your hair. "It's alright, Y/n. I understand why you're upset."
"It’s okay Kook, we don't have to talk about it." You state, voice muffled by his chest. "I’m sorry for keeping you awake, and being a bitch to you in class." Over the course of the night, your positions swap as you take Jungkook in your arms. While he won't explicitly say it, you know he needs it just as bad as you do. Holding him, the both of you fall asleep like that.
You're not sure what time it is when you wake up, quickly realizing what tore you out of your sleep. In your arms, Jungkook is visibly strained, face scrunched together as he jostles slightly in your hold. You quickly realize that it's not going to go away as he continues to become more distressed. "Kook, Jungkook wake up." You begin to shake him lightly, hoping he'll just wake up without much trouble. It takes much more effort to actually pull him out of his sleep, his head jerking as you shake him awake by his shoulders.
He wakes up with a start, his eyes shooting open as he lurches into a seated position. He’s breathing extremely hard, almost panting as he scans around the room widely. "Hey, hey, Kook. It's okay, it was just a dream. you're okay, you're safe." His attention is quickly turned to you, eyes still wide as he takes in your presence.
"Are you okay? You're not hurt?" He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing ahold of your arm hard, not allowing you to jerk away. Carefully, as if his dream were real, he turns it over as if he were looking for an injury.
"Yes, I'm fine, Jungkook. It was just a dream, a nightmare." You mumble, opening your arms and beckoning for him to lay back down. Slowly, as if you were lying to him, he finally lays back down with you. Whatever he dreamed about has him shook up deep into his bones, his arms holding you as close as he possibly could.
Waking up is no easier, feeling just as shitty as you did last night but now even more tired. Your eyes are red and puffy, lips chapped from crying throughout the night. Despite driving back to the university together, Jungkook avoids you like the plague for the entire week. He sits as far away from you as he can without making it obvious. He makes sure to leave the lecture halls immediately after the bell rings so there’s no chance you two will be stuck awkwardly walking next to each other. You’re beyond frustrated and sad from them on, slowly becoming strangers with Jungkook. You two never thought this would happen.
Genuine misery wracks your entire body as you walk through the nightlife of Seoul, streets busy as people start their weekend early on Friday night. Your shoulders brush every now and then with strangers, which you’re quick to usher apologies to avoid any confrontation. A particularly harsh brush sends you down, falling flat on your ass as you groan in pain. Immediately, pain shoots up your hands and into your wrists, absorbing your fall. It feels as though your tailbone has been broken as you pathetically muster your strength to stand up straight. “You should really watch where you’re going!” You don’t make eye contact, simply rolling your eyes at the angry citizen.
“Yeah yeah, I know.” You mumble, immediately being caught by the wrist at the end of your statement. Panic begins to flow throughout your entire body, heart rate speeding up so much you can almost hear it. “Let go of me.” While you try to sound confident, your voice comes out frail as you stare at the man in front of you. Your legs feel as though they’ve gone numb, every sense in your body telling you to get out of there. “I said, let go!” You muster up a bit more courage as you try to pull your arm away to no avail. This proves to be counterproductive as the man easily catches your other arm in his grasp. Tears well in your eyes as you finally get a clear look at the man, nothing short of a stereotypical petty criminal. Your skin crawls as he eyes you up and down, stopping to think.
“Just for that comment, you owe me your wallet.” He grins, making your stomach flip in circles. Is your wallet really worth getting the shit beat out of you? No, no it’s not. But as your ears ring with the sound of your heart beat, not a single coherent thought is happening in your head right now. Involuntarily, you scream as he pulls you closer, making some sort of attempt to pat down your pockets for your wallet. You can’t help but continue to scream, trashing in his hold as he searches your body, copping cheat feels wherever he can. Tears stream down your face, mind going into overdrive as it uses the last bit of intelligence to kick your attacker in his dick.
Immediately, his hands are off of you and he hunches over. Taking the opportunity, you make a break for it, getting just around the street corner before he’s taking off after you. “Man…c’mon.” Is the only thing you hear before the footsteps stop, instead the silence is filled with the man’s complaints. I wasn't even doing anything, we were just messing around, get your webs off of me, you have no right to do this, I'm suing you for misconduct, I'll kill you as soon as I get free! “Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?” There’s a faint sound of webs being strung, causing you to slowly make your way over to the complaint train. “And just like that…another one for the cops.” The man is incredibly satisfied with his web building ability, taking one final measure as he shoots a glob over the attacker's mouth, finally silencing him.
“…Spider-Man?” For some reason, you’re incredibly surprised despite him being all over the news for months now. While you’ve heard everyone talking about him, you’ve never actually seen him in person, never caring to track him down. His suit is much darker than what it looks like in the pictures, making you wonder if it’s the lighting or if he's had a costume update. With the entire suit, you can’t tell any sort of distinguishable features besides the fact that he’s ripped in almost every aspect. The only other feature that you’re able to pick up on right away is his extremely young sounding voice. “Uhm, thank you. For uh, webbing him to the wall?” The disheveled looking man is definitely cocooned to the wall, completely defeated as he waits for the cops to show up.
“Oh, it’s no problem! It’s what I do, your-“ He’s ready to deliver his famous, personally selected, catchphrase. He’s even gone to the extent of placing his hands on his hips, getting ready to puff out his chest and stand tall as he speaks.
“Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, yeah, yeah, we know.” An outside voice chimes in, making you burst into laughter. His chest immediately falls and his posture falls a bit, hands going to point at the said heckler that ruined his moment.
“Hey, that wasn’t very nice!” The spider in front of you calls out, which just makes you laugh more. He's standing up straight now, but has no real intention of going after the grumpy eavesdropper. Without even trying, he’s funny.
“If you really want, you can do your little saying. I'll listen to it.” You giggle, seeing him place his hands back on his hips as he recovers from his workout that stringing the man up turned out to be. He looks incredibly boyish as he stands in thought for a brief moment, almost snapping back into reality as he remembers the situation. Doing a quick double take, he glances back at the man before looking at you once again, before taking another small glance over his shoulder to ensure your attacker is still on the wall.
“Uhm, do you mind if I use your phone? Gotta call the police, and uhm, my suit doesn’t have any pockets?” To add credibility to his claim, he’s running his hands along the suit to show you. After his display, he’s already walking towards you before you answer, taking your phone with a quick thanks before calling the police. He talks for maybe 1 minute max, the conversation being a chorus of “Hello, yes, Spider-Man, yes, 97th street, yes, ok, thanks.” After hanging up and handing your phone back, he seemingly kicks in his inspirational it’s gonna be ok, speech. “How are you feeling? I know that might’ve been a little scary for you, especially the whole, uhm, searching…your body.'' It's incredibly awkward as he tries to find a way to take back what he just said, gesturing to the air.
“You’re not very good at this, I think you should stick to webbing criminals.” You laugh softly, tone joking as you tease him. He seems embarrassed, more than likely flushed entirely pink underneath his mask. “Thanks for saving the citizens of Seoul once again, Spidey.” You giggle as you begin the walk home, quickly making the decision to take the well lit sidewalks. It’ll likely take 10 minutes longer, but you tell yourself that the 10 minutes will be worth it to avoid another almost mugging encounter.
“Uhm, if you want, can I give you a lift home?” Spider-Man offers, jogging to catch up to you. The visual of Spider-Man running on foot to meet up with you is humorous for no reason. “Just so you get home safe! And you don’t have to worry about guys like him!” He covers as you eye him questioningly. After a little more teasing, you accept his offer. “Okay, so just stand next to me, ok, ok. And I'm going to hold you like this, is this ok for you?” You genuinely laugh as he hesitantly places his arm around your waist, nodding your head yes. “Alright, and you can hold around my neck, yeah, like that. Okay, so when we take off, you can either leave your legs like that, or wrap them, uh…around my waist. On the side! Like a toddler sits on someone’s hip, you know?” He’s genuinely trying to not make the situation in any way sexual or uncomfortable, but the constant explanations and stumbling is doing the opposite of his intended effect.
“Yes, Spider-Man. I know what you mean. This won’t affect your webs or swinging, right?” If he’s holding you, that means he can only swing with one arm which is slightly concerning. “Like with only one arm, because if there's a chance I can fall, I'd rather walk all the way back home?”
“Yeah! I'm a pro at swinging, you have no idea. Ready? I’ll show you.” Without even waiting for a response, he effortlessly shoots a web that sends the both of you flying up. After shifting down several inches as the both of you swung downwards, you quickly concluded that you were going to death grip Spider-Man's waist as he swung the both of you. It’s almost like a rollercoaster, that’s extremely high, and has no seat belts or safety procedures. Your adrenaline is pumping throughout your entire body, stomach rising and falling with each swing. To him, it seems like he’s on a leisurely walk in the park, nowhere near as fast as he normally swings when he’s in an emergency.
“Can these things go any faster?” You laugh, pointing to the web shooters on his wrists. Glancing over at you, you’re sure he made a face behind the mask.
“Faster?” You can almost hear him scoff as he questions you. You can’t help but laugh, nodding your head. “If you insist, climb onto my back.” While he’s swinging? He wants you to maneuver around him while he’s swinging 200 feet in the air? “Like a piggy back ride, don’t think about it too much. You can do it.” He slowly lets go of your waist, moving his arm forward so that you can easily slide onto his back. Every single survival instinct is screaming at you not to move, to which you ignore.
“So now what?” You mumble. He has both of his arms in front of him, body (mostly) unrestricted to swing to maximum momentum. You quickly conclude that this is a horrible idea as he bends and extends his body to increase his speed.
“We go faster.” He laughs at you, using both arms to sling himself as fast as possible. While he may seem like an absolute idiot when talking, the way he’s calculating every single move to maximize his distance, is astonishing to you. No move that he does is for nothing (besides the safety checks for you). It's an extremely energy and time efficient way of moving. In record time, you’re at the front of your dorm complex. “And….we’re here.” He smiles as he stands on the ground, easily holding your legs that remain locked around him. While you know he’s standing on solid ground, your legs remain in place as your brain fights to convince yourself it’s safe to get down.
“Ok, let me just get down.” Your legs feel like jelly as they touch the ground, threatening to give out under your weight. “Thanks for the lift, I owe you some ramen next time, yeah?” You smile, shakily walking into your apartment building.
“Hopefully there isn’t a next time!!” He calls out, and with that, he shoots off to go help another poor soul.
Maybe it was the adrenaline from your attacker, or from Spider-Man, or the pure survival instincts kicking in during the ride, but as you lay down in bed, a realization washes over you. You never even told Spider-Man where you were going to…
Ever since that day, you almost unconsciously find yourself wandering around alone. To be honest, you weren’t looking for trouble and had no intention of getting into any that may become a safety risk. However, a part of your subconscious wants nothing more than to run into the red and blue masked superhero that roams the streets. So maybe…just maybe, if trouble comes your way it won’t be the end of the world. Your feet shuffle as you walk, every now and then kicking a rock along the sidewalk.
“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think you’re looking for trouble…” A voice calls out from above you, instantly causing a giant smile to spread across your face. Glancing up, it’s the same masked boy that you’ve been wandering the streets to catch even a glimpse of. Despite having his mask on, it looks like the fabric is smiling down at you.
“If I didn’t know any better, I'd think I have a little spider stalker following me.” Your smile is almost uncontrollable as he comes down, walking down the street with you. “Plus, I still owe you that ramen right?” You look incredibly ridiculous as the both of you walk into the restaurant, standing awkwardly as the staff whisper back and forth to each other. Spider-Man has got his signature, I’m a superhero, pose going on that it almost makes you laugh at him.
“What, what’s so funny, why are you giggling?” He’s leaning over slightly, trying to whisper to you as you continue to fight off your urge to laugh. “Are you laughing at me??”
“No, no.” You can't even look over at him, because you know the moment you do you’ll burst into laughter. Subtly, you begin to get into the same exact pose as him to see if anyone notices. This includes, placing your hands on your hips, widening your stance to about shoulder width, and standing perfectly straight with your chest puffed out. Even now, you’re still fighting back laughter as the staff continue to take glances at the two of you. “Do I look familiar?” You whisper, watching as he slowly turns around to look at you fully. As he analyzes, you can’t help but begin to laugh.
“Hm…no. Not really?”
“I'm you!”
“What!? That’s not how I stand!”
“This is exactly how you stand!”
“I do not look like that.”
“We could literally be twins right now, just give me your mask.” You laugh, finally dropping the pose as your ramen comes out. “You know, I really can’t tell if you’re smiling under your mask. So if you are straight faced this entire time, this is awkward.” You laugh, walking out of the restaurant with a bag of takeout. You both decide where to eat, sitting down with the bag in between you.
And by “you both decide where to eat,” Spider-Man immediately proposes that you go to a rooftop. He easily takes you to one of the tallest buildings, your stomach churning as your feet touch the roof and you immediately sit down where you two landed. “This is fun, but we should go by the ledge. We can see the entire city from up here.” He’s more than excited, easily walking over to the side and sitting down, feet hanging. You’re distraught as he webs the bag, yanking it over to him with no effort at all. Pathetically, you crawl over to the edge and make some sort of attempt to sit in the same manner he is. “Uh, if you want, I can web you…not like restraints. But like a seatbelt.”
“Actually…I would like that a lot. Please do.” You nod your head up and down, lifting your arms to allow him to secure your lap to the building. If the both of you can swing from skyscraper to skyscraper with these webs, you at least know they’ll hold you in place. He easily humors you once again without trying, pulling the mask to just above the tip of his nose to allow him to eat the noodles he’s picked up. “You know, if I knew who you were, I'd be able to tell from just this part of your face. So hiding your eyes isn’t exactly foolproof.” You laugh, quickly looking at his lips and half exposed cheeks. Your stomach flips as you quickly change to subject. “You know the city is a lot more safe with you around.”
“Yeah? I’m really glad to hear that.” He smiles, and you wonder if he’s actually that dumb. Or maybe he thinks you’re dumb and won’t put 2 and 2 together. “Everyone used to hate me, you know?” He laughs, shaking his head as he continues to eat. You don’t say anything, knowing that he’s going to continue once he’s done. “Newspapers tore me up every single day, I think I headlined at least 6 out of 7 days a week.” He laughs, “I guess you could say I'm pretty famous.”
“Yeah, you definitely are famous. You’re so famous you’re becoming a tourist attraction.” You giggle, thinking about how you’re seen various people come to Seoul to see Spider-Man at work. You’re sure the state gets insane tourism money from it, along with the city already being a well known area. “Seoul’s one and only, web slinging hero, Spider-Man!” You laugh, announcing your made up head line in an overly enunciated and perfectly clear tone. He laughs at the lame joke, shoving the rest of the noodles in his mouth. “We should probably get going, Arachne. It’s getting late and I'm sure you’ll be busy as it gets later.”
He nods to your final statement, reaching over to your lap. “I'm gonna take these off, alright?” You nod, allowing him to easily rip through them. Almost cat-like, he easily stands up on the edge with perfect balance, reaching down and offering you stability as you climb to your feet. “Freaking out?” He laughs at you, watching as you screw your eyes shut and refuse to look down.
“Yes, yes. Let’s just swing, get going.” Spidey asks you if you want his side or back, to which you heavily weigh the benefits of both. Taking a small peek at the sheer height, you decide that the back is definitely a better option since you’re able to cling onto him tighter. “Are you just going…to jump down? And like free fall!?” You regret every decision you made that has led up to this moment.
“Yes, until I get closer to the ground.” He can already tell you’re about to back out entirely, most likely take the elevator all the way down. While he would still accompany you, he’d much rather not wait forever to descend the 50+ floors. “Listen, you can do this, ok? All you have to do is jump onto my back and hang on as tight as you want. You don’t even have to look, alright? Just close your eyes and we’ll be done in no more than a minute.”
He talks you into it, but not without feeling like you’re going to pass out. At least if you pass out, it’s with Spider-Man who is more than capable of pulling you back in order to catch you. “Ok, ok. This will be fine.” You persuade yourself, taking the smallest hop humanely possible and quickly situating yourself on his back. It feels like you’re falling faster than scientifically possible, hurtling towards the ground at an alarming speed.
You’re about 90% sure you’ve busted Spider-Man's ear drums at this point, shoving your face in the crook of his neck while screaming. Your arms and legs are locked tight around him, so much so you’re surprised you haven’t choked him out yet. (Which would be bad, because if you pass out he’ll save you. If he passes out, you’re both goners.) As he easily thrusts a wrist in the air and begins swinging close to the ground, your arms fly up to his head as you try to find a better hold.
“THIS IS THE WORST, I'M CALLING THE BUGLE LATER TODAY!!!” You scream, slamming your eyes shut as he narrowly avoids buildings. “I'M TELLING THEM YOU TRIED TO KILL ME!!”
“WHAT ARE YOU EVEN SAYING!!” He screams back, trying to find his way through the lit up streets. “I CAN'T SEE, I CAN'T SEE ANYTHING!!”
You’re completely unaware that you are, in fact, clasping your hands over his eyeballs.
You’ve never hated anything more, from the moment he allowed his body to fall off the side (back first, so you were closer to the ground) all the way to when your feet touched the floor at your dorm. “That was horrible, if you ever convince me to free fall again I’m going to throw up all down the back of your suit.” You vaguely threaten, slowly climbing off.
He laughs at you, standing in the same spot as he waits for you to safely make it inside. For some reason, leaving is different now. You’re torn as you stare at him, stomach flipping in uncertainty. “Hey…be safe, alright, people care about you.” You mumble, quickly going back for a hug. Most likely catching him off guard, it takes him a couple of moments to actually hug you back. It's a comfortable, extremely familiar hug. “Don’t do anything too stupid, now.” You laugh, pulling away and actually going into your apartment. Spider-Man says something along the lines of I’d never think of it before swinging away.
Walking past Jungkook’s hall, your feet instinctively pause in front of the doorway. You finally understand. You understand Kook being so secretive, you understand why Aunt Yoon was so nervous that day, cracking her knuckles at every opportunity and refusing to let you past the living room. As you settle in for the night, everything begins to make more sense. The confusion you’ve had for over a month is suddenly gone, your head eventually connecting every missing piece.
You’re unsure of what to do about the newfound information, but for now you relax feeling slightly relieved now that you’ve figured it out. Jungkook has been acting so strange lately because he’s been a completely different person, swinging around the city every night as the one and only Spider-Man.
You can’t help but giggle slightly thinking to yourself. Pulling your phone out from your backpack, your finger hovers over Jungkook's contact name. Without thinking, you edit the information and add a little spider next to it. You decided to send Jungkook a quick text. It doesn’t even register to you that you both truly haven’t spoken face to face in days now. You’re hesitant for a couple of seconds, the endearing Jungkook 💜🕷 contact name urging you to make a decision. Regardless, you still message him.
I almost killed spider man
What? No wayyyyy
Would you still be friends with me if I murdered the most well known superhero in town?
Absolutely not
…Well, do you think that one loud news guy would’ve paid me?
Jameson? Knowing that guy? He’d give you his first born child
Smiling softly to yourself, you finally allow yourself to drift off to sleep.
You’re woken up out of your sleep by loud pounding coming from your window, a series of coughs and grunts accompany the noise. In a panic, your body shoots out of bed, catching the smallest glimpse at the figure in your window. Just as you’re about to sprint out of the room, you catch a small flash of red and blue. Hesitantly, you walk over to get a better look. Sure enough, the web slinging hero is standing outside of your window. Confused, you begin to pull open the window. “What are you doing here?!” You whisper, glancing back to your door to make sure no ears are around. “It's almost 5 am!”
“I just…need your help.” He groans, climbing past you and into the room. As he stands on both feet, his body haphazardly falls to the ground, a loud crashing accompanying it. On the ground, he begins to cough and groan as he holds his body wherever he can.
“Oh my god! Are you okay?” Panic sets in even more as you drop to your knees, pulling his head into your lap as you fight to get a response from him. Extremely slowly, he nods his head.
“I just…got caught a few too many times. I just…need to rest, my body heals pretty fast.” He’s talking extremely slowly, mind seemingly not thinking as he attempts to explain what happened to him. You can barely follow along with the story, something about not seeing the blade before the fight ended. At the end of his explanation, he quickly adds But I totally won, don’t get me wrong. Webbed him up and came straight over. At the explanation, you fight tears back, looking anywhere else in your room but him.
“Hey, was this too far? Did I overstep our friendship?” He laughs softly, placing both of his palms on the ground before making an attempt to get up. You assume he was going to leave your room, refusing to let him do so. You easily hold him in place, the injured boy not having the energy to fight you.
“You really must think I’m stupid, Kook.” You laugh, tears beginning to fall which you quickly wipe away. “Like, really really stupid.”
“Kook? Who’s that?”
This only makes you laugh harder, his voice easily giving away his blown cover. He's surprised, to which he quickly tries to play it off and act cool. “Please…don't make this harder than it already is.” You begin to reach for the edge of his mask, wrists quickly being caught by his hands and immediately stopping you. As he grabs your hands, you only now realize the wounds he was covering, blood smearing onto you from his hands.
“You…you didn’t tell me he actually got you! I thought you said you were just tired and couldn’t swing anymore!” Tears immediately begin to fall down your face, body jumping up. “Stay here! I swear, if you disappear I'll come find you!” You’re almost full on sobbing now, sprinting to the bathroom to dig for your first aid kit. It’s slightly small and only has the basics, but you hope it’ll be enough to help him at least. “Change into this, please?” It’s a pair of shorts and a random t-shirt that he’s left behind from your guys countless sleepovers.
“I really shouldn’t, I just need to rest.”
You refuse to let him go that easy, insisting that he change. Trying his best to keep whatever secret he thinks he’s still hiding, he makes every excuse to dodge taking off his mask. Listen, I’m hideous underneath this mask! I have to conceal my identity, if you went and told people I'd be in a lot of trouble. Also, if you knew my identity, it could paint you as a target for criminals. Only 1 other person knows who I am, it’s critical for it to be top secret. You can't take off my mask, it’s a part of the suit. No! It doesn’t come off at the neck. No! Get away!
“Jungkook, stop.” He is trying to crawl away from you without getting any blood on the carpet, using his feet to push himself around on his back. “First, it was disappearing and not showing up to class anymore. Then coming home beat up every night. Then when you took me home after saving me, you didn’t even ask where we were going. You just slung your webs and took me to my dorm complex. And when I bought us ramen earlier, I saw your face. You think I would miss the scar on your cheek and freckle underneath your lip? And even tonight, you happen to come to my exact window and climb in, without even knowing me?”
“Uhm, it was just a lucky guess, the window bit.” He mumbles, having no other explanation for your other points. He knows he can’t win, finally defeated and his secret laid out on the table for you to judge.
“Please just change so I can clean your cuts, please.” He’s about to make another excuse, you can see his mouth opening, mumbling out a small My identity is top secret- before you’re cutting him off. Your heart is racing, sobs and tears streaming from you at a pretty steady rate. Your hands shake as you hold onto him, gripping the front of his suit in your fists. “I told you to be safe, Jungkook! I told you not to do anything stupid! You said you’d be safe tonight! You NEVER listen, and now you’re bleeding out on my floor, KOOK PLEASE.” Your hands shake as you hold onto his suit, eventually moving to pull him closer to you. Holding his injured body, you shake and sob as he slowly wraps his arms around you. Every now and then, you can feel him heave as he fights back the urge to cry into you.
Slowly, you release your death grip on him, almost afraid he’d disappear the second you let go. Making another attempt at his mask, he lets you this time.
“I'm really sorry for this.” He mumbles, a few small coughs following his statement. Your eyebrow raises, hands just barely grazing the fabric of the mask. Before you can even react, a web is wrapped around your wrist before being easily shot towards your bed. Without even having time to think, your body is yanked backwards by the momentum of the web. “I gotta go…”
“Jungkook, this isn’t funny. Take this off.” You state, yanking hard against it as you try to reach where his body lies on your floor. You can feel your bed slide a few inches forward as you try to get to him. “Kook, I'm serious this isn’t a joke. Take it off!” Horror crosses your face as he plants his hands down, using the last of his strength reservoir to push himself up. Slowly, he hobbled back towards the window before carefully climbing out onto the fire escape. From afar, you can see the red spots bleeding through this spandex.
“I'm really sorry, those will last about an hour.” He apologizes, limping over to the railing. “If anyone comes in to check on you, you can just hide them underneath your blankets. I'll see you around.”
“JUNGKOOK! DON'T!” You're full on screaming at this point, tears engraving their path down your face. You’re frustrated and scared, almost afraid he’ll go to jump off the side of the building and not be able to recover. “PLEASE! STAY! I'LL DO ANYTHING. DON'T GO OUT, YOU'RE TOO WEAK RIGHT NOW.” You're screaming from the top of your lungs, pulling so hard on the web it feels as if you’ll dislocate your shoulder. Your wrist is aching from the tension, which you ignore it all. “PLEASE STAY, PLEASE STAY. I'LL COME FIND YOU IF YOU GO! I WILL, I SWEAR I'LL COME AFTER YOU!”
Your bed is now displaced a considerable amount, sitting almost directly in the center of the room. Your wrist is red and strained, shoulder pulled taught and about to snap at any moment if you continue to fight it. You don’t have a couple of hours to wait for this web to dissolve, you have to get to him now. “KOOK! Please, just come here. Please, I'm begging you. You're too hurt right now, you have to stay with me. Please Jungkook, I'm scared! Please don’t go, don’t leave me here!”
At your pleas, his feet stop their movements. You can see his internal debate. “Y/n, you can’t tell a soul. I mean it, I really do!”
“Okay, okay, done. I won't say a single thing. Please just get down.” At your promise, he clumsily hops down from the railing, making his way over to you. “Please, just come here.” You open one arm that’s free, wrapping it around Jungkook's torso as soon as he’s in reach. You’re quick to yank him down to your level, wrapping your single free arm as much as possible around his body. A small chuckle leaves him before he’s ripping through the web that still retains you. “I was scared Kook, that scared me.” You mumble into his shoulder, pulling him as close as possible.
He lets you hold onto him, body almost laying across your lap as you hold his torso and head. “I was scared that if you jumped down from the building, you’d be too tired to shoot a web to hold yourself, or too tired to stick to the wall.”
“It scares me to hear you cry like that.” He mumbles, pulling back just slightly to place a hand on your cheek. Ignoring the wetness that you feel, both on your cheek and body, you smile into his hand.
“Please, let me clean the blood off you. And bandage them. You’ll bleed out.” You ask, “And let me take the mask off.”
He finally nods his permission. your fingertips easily find the edge where the two seams meet, wedging your thumbs underneath the mask and easily pulling it up and over his head. He looks worn out, eyes threatening to close as blood drips onto his face. He's sporting a few bruises mixed with a busted brow and lip, where he got hit particularly hard. His cheek looks bad, a pretty long cut prominent. There’s a few tear steaks, (whether they’re from pain or your small breakdown is unknown.)
“Here I am.” He says lazily, eyes closed as you hold his head in your hands.
“Jungkook, you have to stay awake. For now, just open your eyes, please.” You mumble, searching for the extra clothes. You have to peel him out of his suit basically, blood making it almost like a wet suit onto his skin. Jungkook is more worried about the holes in the suit more than his skin, quickly reassuring him that you could sew them up. He nods, laying on the floor in nothing but a small pair of shorts. “This is going to hurt like a bitch, Jungkook.” You sigh, taking the sterile gauze and beginning to apply pressure to his still bleeding cuts.
His body stiffens under your hands, small grunts filling the room from the pain. You have to repeat this process multiple times, stomach doing flips as you fight back the urge to puke. Seeing him in so much pain makes your eyes water, you almost have to hold him down as he writhes from it. And by almost, you basically have him pinned down underneath you. You’re currently using one hand to apply pressure to the gashes, the other is holding his bicep down, and one of your feet is placed on his opposite thigh to stop him from jumping away. ”It'll be okay, just try and stay still. I got you, Kook.” After they slowly stop bleeding, you begin running sterile gauze with water over the dried blood. Slowly, it eventually looks less and less like a murder scene. “Please talk to me, Jungkook. Maybe it’ll take your mind off it.”
“I’m sorry for scaring you like that.” A tear falls down the side of his face, your hand instinctively reaching out to wipe it away. ”I know you’re worried about me, Y/n.” Jungkook mumbles, hand finding your side and doing his best to wrap it around you. “I understand, I really do. But I can't stop doing it, they need me.”
“I wasn't going to ask you to stop.” You answer, voice low and wavering slightly as you slowly stop crying over his injuries. As they get cleaned up a bit, you’re slowly able to calm down. “I just want, no need. I need you to be careful, Kook. Because if I lose you….I just. I won’t know- I won't know how to live after that.” You cry, head falling forward, causing your foreheads to push softly against each other. He understands your concern, rubbing your back comfortingly as you collect yourself. As you cry, his other hand finds your cheek to wipe the tears that slowly fall.
He hates seeing you this upset, hates it even more that it’s because of him. As he comforts you, his eyes water and threaten to spill over as he fights it away. After a bit, you’re able to pick your head up and resume, beginning smearing ointment over the cuts. To fill the silence in the room, he begins talking again. “You know, when I was fighting towards the end I started realizing how much he got me. I started feeling all of the cuts and pain running throughout my body. And after I hung him against the wall, I instinctively came over here. I wasn’t even thinking about showing up as Spider-Man, wasn’t thinking about how obvious it would be that I knew where your window was. The only thought that was running through my mind was that I needed to see you.” He explains. You’ve been sniffling the entire time, ever since Jungkook jumped down from the rails after agreeing to stay. As he talks more and more, it feels like you’re only fighting harder not to cry.
You’re not sure if this is supposed to make you feel better or worse, but your heart lurches. “I don't know if I wanted to see you for help, or see you to make me feel better. I just knew I had to get here, just in case something happened.”
“Don’t say that, you’re gonna be okay, Kook.” You abruptly cut him off, voice loud compared to his small one. You apologize softly, going back to his wounds. He nods, trying to reassure you.
“I'm already feeling better, Y/n.” He smiles, pushing himself up on his elbows to watch as you begin to bandage him up. You finish quickly, feeling nervous as he watches you.
“You know it’s weird, the last words I could’ve ever said to you were I hate you.” You laugh sadly, helping him pull his shirt on. He looks adorable as he stares at you, sporting a big patch on his cheek that covers the cut. “You should probably get some rest, you know? You’re gonna be sore in the morning for sure. I’ll get you painkillers and make breakfast when you wake up.” You smile, ruffling his hair.
“You’re right, can I borrow a pillow?” He asks, laughing lightly as he lays down on the floor.
“No, get in bed. You need to actually sleep well.” You laugh, dragging him up by one of his arms. He's quick to protest, No, it’s okay. I don't need to sleep on the bed to be comfortable. Because then you’re going to sleep on the floor and that’s not fair, no, I won't. He’s fighting you like a toddler that refuses to walk, completely dead weight as you try to drag him. With a loud sigh, you let him go and walk over to the red and blue suit on the ground. “Get in the bed, or the suit gets it!” You threaten, holding a pair of scissors to the material.
You genuinely laugh as his eyes widen, arms raising up. “Ok ok, take it easy now! Are those real scissors?!”
“Yes they’re real scissors!” A giant smile is spread across your face as he jokes with you.
“Oh no, real scissors are my weakness!!” He cries out, jokingly getting on his hands and knees. His hands stay in front of his face as he fake surrenders to your threats. Before you even realize what’s happening he’s shooting a web at you. It wraps around your wrist and will one hard tug, you’re tumbling towards him, suit and scissor falling out of your hands. “My suit is saved!”
“You missed the scissors a bit, Kook.” You laugh as you lay in his arms that caught you. He also has a giant smile spread across his face, a much better look than when you first peeled off his mask. Your heart swells, ears burning as he continues to peer down at you.
“I wasn’t aiming for the scissors.” He mumbles, making your face flush a bright red. Slowly, you almost miss it, you can feel him leaning into you. “Please, can I kiss you?” He asks softly, eyes flicking from your lips back to your eyes. It feels like you’re in a dream that you’ll wake up from, slowly nodding yes to his question. In a second, his lips are against yours, eyes falling shut. A small hum falls from you as you instinctively press closer to him, hands finding his hair. His hands find your sides, pulling you closer to him and into a sitting position. Easily, your lips spot together as if they were a perfect fit, breaths becoming heavy as you take one another’s air. You can taste the metallic on his mouth, confused for a moment before remembering his busted bottom lip.
“Kook, you need to rest.” You breathe, voice airy as you catch it. You place a small peck onto his lips, holding his head in your hands. His eyes remain closed, head tilted up slightly at you. You massage his scalp with your fingertips, a slight hum filling the room as his hands hold you close. “Please, get some sleep.” You say, pressing one last kiss onto his forehead before you begin to climb out of his lap.
“Fine, fine. But only for you.” He finally gives in, slowly climbing into bed. You giggle, pulling the covers up to his chin and beginning to tuck them in around his body. “This feels like a bit overboard now.” Jungkook states, causing you to laugh at him.
“Shut up and close your eyes.” Finally tucking him in completely, you kiss him one last time before going about your tasks for the early morning. And by tasks, you mean the mess that Jungkook brought you. There’s small blood spots on your carpet, along with the soaking wet suit. As he gets rest, you work hard to repair what you can. The carpet is first, blood stains being vigorously scrubbed and cleaned until there’s no evidence they were ever there. Picking the suit off the ground, you’re almost afraid to ruin it.
You decide that hand washing is probably the best bet, sneaking out of your room to retrieve laundry soap and head to the bathrooms. You pray to every god that no one is there, and that no one walks in on you. You try your best to be as silent as possible, red and blue suit not easily mistaken for possible onlooking eyes. Hand washing the suit is a challenge, the fabric feeling like it was 100 pounds once it soaked up water. The water is a murky and deep red, making you grimace. After the workout that rinsing and hanging the suit turned out to be, your next chore is figuring out how to sew up the holes. YouTube becomes your best friend, sorry Kook. You throw the suit haphazardly into a towel, lugging the still damp suit back.
“Y/nnnnn…” You can hear Jungkook whining from your room just as you finish up your chores, immediately rushing to see if he’s alright. He remains in bed, still completely tucked in to his chin. “Come lay with me, it’s lonely and cold here. I wanna be held.”
At his last statement, you can’t help but laugh at him. “You need to get some rest.” You answer, shoving more blanket underneath him.
“I did, I just woke up from my nap. Come on.” He protests, untucking and opening the blankets up to you. Sighing, you take the invitation as you quickly come to your senses and aren’t gonna win this time. “What have you been up to?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.
“Cleaning up your mess.” You smile, leaning back to fully look at his face. You can only catch a glimpse before he’s complaining, pulling you into his chest closer to him. You can’t help but smile, easily slotting yourself in between his arms. Your legs tangle together as the both of you get comfortable, using his bicep as your pillow for the time being.
"Do you remember the last time we were like this?" Jungkook asks, a small chuckle following his question. Confused, you pull away slightly to give him a questioning look. "When I had a nightmare and freaked out on you? And kept asking you if you were ok?"
"Oh, yeah. Why are you thinking about that right now, Kook?"
"It was about you, you know?" He states, his voice wavering slightly as he recalls the nightmare. Your heart feels like it's about to break for the millionth time that morning. "I wasn't able to save you, I was too slow and you fell. It was so vivid, it felt so real. Y-you hit the ground and when I walked over to you, you weren't moving. It scared me, bad." You listen in silence, allowing him to finish whatever he had left. "And when you woke me up, that felt like a dream. Like the two somehow got switched and waking up next to you was the dream, and that's why I had to check your arm. It honestly scared me so bad, that I wanted to distance myself from you because I was just so afraid of it actually becoming reality."
"It's okay Kook, I promise it's not going to happen. The distancing thing though, that was kind of shitty of you." You joke, able to pull a small chuckle from him. "I'll always be here for you, Kook, whenever you need me to."
"I'll always be here too, y/n. "
"Wanna hear some good news?" You smile, pushing yourself back into his chest as you get comfortable again. “I can proudly say your suit is fixed, ready for use once again. But not now, not until you heal. That's where I'm drawing the line.” You quickly add, to which he only laughs at you. Laying with him, you only now realize how much you’ve actually missed him these past few months.
“You’re the best. What would I do without you.” He smiles, tilting his head down to place a kiss on top of your hair. He doesn’t say anything after that, allowing his chin to rest on top of your head as he drifts off to sleep once more. You spend the entire morning holding one another, somehow scared to lose each other yet soaking up the touch. It’s not until you feel moisture that you pull away from him, searching for it.
“I have to change your bandages.” You sigh, slipping from his arms as you collect more supplies. Jungkook remains half asleep as you change the bled-through gauze, small hums the only reaction he gives you. Finally finished, a soft smile overtakes your face as he sleeps peacefully. Your hand finds his hair as you sit next to him, softly stroking his soft hair.
“Hm?” Jungkook hums, peeling his eyes open slightly.
“Nothing Kook.” You smile. “You can go back to sleep.”
“...Where did my shirt go?” He asks, glancing down at his bandaged chest. “If you wanted to see me shirtless that bad, you could’ve just said so.” He teases, hand jokingly grabbing your thigh.
“Ugh, next time I'll let you bleed out.” You roll your eyes, slapping his hand away from you. Making breakfast (that Jungkook insisted on helping with) and getting him painkillers, the near-death scare is finally coming to an end.
Jungkook’s with you, and he’s safe. You’re both on good terms again, more than good, and happy. Eating breakfast, the two of you unconsciously seek each other's touch. With legs tangled with one another underneath the table, and hands brushing more often than accidental, the two of you are finally content.
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