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holybatgirlz · 5 months

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going to the chapel | chapter 1

read on ao3 (next chapter)

Summary:

“Three days?” she yelped. “I thought you said next week.” “Three days is next week.” Sophie frowned. “Oh. You’re right. Monday, then?” (An Offer from a Gentleman by Julia Quinn, Chapter 23) What happened in the days leading up to Benedict and Sophie’s wedding.

Word Count: 8.3k

Friday

Benedict was in a perpetual state of joy and bliss from the moment he woke up.

The morning after freeing his fiancee – his Lady in Silver, the wonderful, beautiful, kind, lovely, stunning Sophie Beckett – from a jail cell she’d been whisked away to while his back was turned and a near sentence of penal transportation to Australia, the bliss he felt was one he’d never experienced before. And one he only prayed would continue.

The woman of his dreams, a woman he’d thought lost, one he hadn’t even realized had been standing before him for close to a month until a few days ago, was currently held protectively in his arms. Snoozing peacefully, with her mouth open slightly as she slept with her head against his chest, her golden curls tickling his chin and jaw. Her smooth, unblemished skin almost glowed in the sunlight peeking through the curtains in thin slivers.

She slept without a care for the world, still sleeping off their exploits from the night before. Benedict could only lay there and stare, watching as her chest gently rose and fell. The only thing covering her modesty right now was a thin blanket covering the two of them.

He could spend the rest of eternity like this. And he wanted to. He wanted to stay here, forever. Undisturbed.

“Good morning, Benedict,” a familiar, maternal voice suddenly says behind him.

Fuck.

Benedict froze, recognizing the voice immediately. And she certainly could not have interrupted him at the worst moment.

When he had placated Sophie during her mid-night panic, assuring her his mother would not mind she’d spent the night with him, he had not been expecting said mother to just show up in his lodgings the next morning. He’d hoped she’d remain at Number 5, silently judging him over her morning cup of tea after he returned Sophie and joined them for breakfast.

But his darling mother was in fact standing next to the bed as he turned to look over his shoulders, staring down at him with an arched brow and her hands holding her small purse in front of her. An unimpressed expression sat on her face, one that made it evident she was not pleased by his actions.

How long had she been standing there? Watching him and Sophie sleeping. Not to mention, how the hell did she get into his lodgings? Lord above, Benedict was going to need to speak to his valet of who was allowed into his home while he slept (and certainly if Graves wanted to keep his job for the foreseeable future).

But he’d deal with Graves later. He had his mother to deal with currently.

“Good morning, mother,” he slowly replied, finding courage quickly as he carefully rolled towards her and untangled himself from Sophie, trying not to disturb her as he moved. “Whatever are you doing here?”

“Well,” she began, voice raising in the sing-song way his mother usually used was partially irked by him or his brothers. Or others. Benedict could feel the sarcasm coming on. “When I realized Sophie had not returned last night, I grew concerned that something may have happened. I thought it best to come check that you were both alright,” she told him flatly.

Benedict coughed, awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Well, as you can see, mother, we are both perfectly fine,” he said.

“And in the nude,” she pointed out simply, cocking her head to the side. “When I promised you a letter from the Archbishop for you to marry Sophie, which I’d like to inform you your brother received this morning, I at least hoped you’d be able to control yourself till then,” she then shook her head in disappointment, tutting to herself. “Three days, Benedict. Could you have not waited?”

It was already a little late for that.

But Benedict was not about to tell her about that little incident.

Next to him, Sophie shifted suddenly, a soft moan escaping from her lips as she moved, making Benedict jerk with panic. If she woke up and found his mother in the room with them, she’d be mortified. Panicked. That was the last thing he needed.

“You need to leave,” he told his mother, shooing her towards the door.

“Benedict–” she started.

“Mother, can you please leave?” he hissed at her quietly, trying to still be polite but an aggressive edge leaked into his tone.

Sophie rolled on to her back next to him, her eyes still thankfully closed as she settled again, letting out a soft, airy sigh. It appeared they had not fully woken her yet. Her breathing was still calm and steady. It was a miracle she hadn’t already awakened from her peaceful slumber, Benedict knew she was a light sleeper, but that could change soon. She could open her eyes at any moment.

His mother rolled her eyes at him. “I expect you both dressed and downstairs in the next hour, Benedict. There is much to do if you two are to be married on Monday.”

“Yes, yes, of course, now go,” he ordered hastily.

His mother only scoffed at him, shaking her head at him, before making her way out of the room, the sounds of her footsteps as she headed down the stairs echoed through the home.

And the moment she disappeared, the door clicking shut behind her, Sophie woke up.

She shifted again, moving her arms above her to stretch, the blanket slipping down and exposing her lovely chest as she did.

“Good morning,” she mumbled happily, a beautiful smile gracing her lips as she blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked up at him.

“Good morning,” Benedict returned and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and kissed her soft, plump lips.

And Sophie reciprocated with ease, her hand drifting up to cup his face, her thumb rubbing over his jaw sending sparks through him. He’d only wanted to give her a quick peck, but the feel of her against him, the taste of her, was intoxicating, making him deepen the kiss as he pushed Sophie down against the bed. His hands finding her hips, then her thighs and then–

The realization his mother was currently mere feet away downstairs snapped him back to his senses. She’d come right back up here if they took too long and Benedict did not want to be caught destroying Sophie’s virtue by her.

Sophie gave him a disappointed pout when he pulled away, one that quickly turned back into a smile. She looked even more beautiful somehow. Her golden curls sprayed out around her head on the pillow like a radiant halo. The sunlight made the honey colored strands shine. She practically glowed.

Then she yawned. “I should get back to Number 5,” she told him, voice still laced with sleep. “Your mother must be worried about when I’m returning.”

Right.

“About that…”

—

“She saw us in bed?”

Sophie had been up and moving the moment Benedict informed her his mother was waiting for them downstairs, hastily throwing on the dress Violet had been kind enough to bring over with her. Another one of his sister’s old gowns. This one was one of Daphne’s, a soft baby blue with silver embroidered leaves wrapping around the skirt and on the tulle sleeves. With a matching silk capelet in the same color.

Baby blue, the Bridgerton colors. His mother was dressing her as if she was already a member. Frankly, she had been since Sophie arrived. She’d never been made to wear any maid’s uniform. As if his mother somehow knew she would inevitably join their family before one could be made.

God, Benedict would forever be grateful to his mother, who had accepted Sophie as one of her own and treated her as if she was another Bridgerton daughter.

Benedict watched as Sophie pulled her loose, messy curls up and into a bun, pacing back and forth in her panic.

“Sophie, it’s fine–” he started, trying to calm her down.

“She saw us in bed! Together!” Sophie repeated, a loud whispered hiss.

“There isn’t much she can do about it now,” Benedict returned with a laid back shrug, which only made Sophie spiral faster. Pushing off the bed and up to his feet, he came to her side, gently resting his hands on her shoulders, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Sophie, we’re going to be married in a few days. It’s not like we’ll be sharing a bed for the foreseeable future.”

“Your mother just saw me in bed, naked, laying next to you!” Sophie quietly hissed again.

“You were completely covered. She saw nothing,” he assured her with a light, playful tone, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

Sophie gave him a look, one that only made him chuckle as he moved in to kiss her gently on the lips this time. She let him, relaxing a little against his body, although her lips were still pursed with discomfort and embarrassment when he pulled away.

“Come on,” he told her, retying the capelet ribbons for her.

She followed him without argument, still nervous as they made their way down to where his mother was waiting for them.

But Violet Bridgerton only acted like nothing had happened, smiling warmly at Sophie as she greeted her, embracing her in a quick, maternal hug. One that allowed her to shoot Benedict a disapproving look over Sophie’s shoulder, as if he was at fault for Sophie’s spending the night.

Well, he was, but Benedict felt no shame or guilt over it. Only flashing his mother a mischievous, proud smile.

“I’ve already called for the modiste now that we have the Archbishop’s approval. Madame Delacroix was kind enough to come to us to get your measurements. You’ve had such a hectic last few days it may be easier she come to us so you can take it easy today. I have a few ideas for floral arrangements that we can go over and the cook will need to know your favorite meals so we can have them for the reception. But first, let's get you back to Number 5 so you can eat something.”

“Oh?” Sophie blinked in surprise, her mind seemed to have stalled as she tried processing all the information his mother had just given her. The realization hit her that there was much to do if they were to be married on Monday.

“Is everything alright dear?” his mother asked.

Sophie looked between the two of them, nervously. “I only thought it would be a simple wedding. What with the rush.”

Violet frowned. “Why ever would we do that? We can keep the ceremony and reception small, if that's what you want, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve a full celebration."

Seeing the wide eyed, nervous expression Sophie gave her back, Violet gave a small chuckle.

“You’ll be fine,” she assured her, smiling fondly. “I’ve been through this process before. You have nothing to worry about.”

“If anyone knows how to plan a wedding, it’s my mother,” Benedict added, coming up behind Sophie.

“Which reminds me. You–” Violet said, pointing a finger at her second born. “–are going with your brother to the tailor. Today. I don’t want you anywhere near Number 5 until dinner.”

Benedict’s smile dropped. He still wasn’t ready to part from Sophie, not after everything they’d gone through yesterday. The past few days. He still had much he wanted to speak with her about, and he’d hoped to be able to spend more time with her, even if it meant suffering through discussions on flower arrangements and wedding preparations. For Sophie, Benedict would endure anything. He wanted her to have everything and anything she wished.

And he wouldn’t deny he had every desire to see her in her gown before the ceremony. Something he knew his mother and sisters would make sure did not happen.

“Can it not wait till this afternoon?” he asked his mother. “I have more than enough suits the tailor can work off. I’m more than welcome to assist you two with the other preparations.”

Violet only raised a brow at him. “I do believe your brother has some matters to discuss with you now that you are to be married. Regarding your inheritance. Besides, I think you two will be alright spending time apart for the next few days. Don’t you?”

Sophie's cheeks went pink as she stood between them, no doubt reminded about what Violet had discovered her doing with her son.

Benedict groaned, shoulders slumping as he whined. “Mother–”

Violet only held up a hand, silencing him. “Come. Sophie needs her breakfast and Miss Delacroix will be arriving before noon. No point standing here discussing matters so let us go.”

Linking her arm with Sophie’s, Violet then began leading her from the room. Sophie flashed Benedict a worried look over her shoulder as she was taken away, but Benedict could do nothing to stop.

Had he been smarter, he could have departed to Gretna Green this very morning, before his mother arrived, but there was nothing that could be done about it now. His mother wanted to see him married, and to Sophie there was no doubt about it, and now that she had her chance, she was going to make sure he got the exact same treatment Anthony and Daphne had gotten when they tied the knot.

Christ, it was going to be a long weekend.

Sophie, never the one to believe she would one day marry (let alone have the money to afford more then a small service), had been unaware up to this moment exactly how many different shades of white a bridal gown could come in.

Ivory, champagne, off-white, cream, pearl, seashell, diamond, porcelain. It was all beginning to make her head spin.

She was beginning to believe it was nothing but a scam.

(Not that she thought it appropriate to be wearing white to her wedding in the first place, given her virtue had flown out the widow quite quickly when she found herself alone with Benedict. Twice now.)

But Violet and the modiste were still debating which shade of white her gown would be, all while Sophie stood between them wearing nothing but a simple cotton shift, with a million little silver pins sticking in it, one Madame Delacroix had her wear so she could better gauge her measurements. Sophie was certain this was how dolls felt.

Violet held up another swatch of white fabric next to Sophie’s face and hummed.

“The silk you have in pearl does make her look quite heavenly, but the diamond white one makes her hair almost glow,” she said to Madame Delacroix as she held the fabric swatch next to another one, seeming utterly confounded by the two fabrics. “What do you think, Sophie?”

If she was honest, they looked exactly the same. They all did.

“I like them both,” she supplied, weakly, frankly unsure which was which.

“You said that about the last two fabrics,” Hyacinth called out from the settee, where she and her sisters had all been watching and commenting from afar.

The youngest Bridgerton and her elder sister Eloise seemed to be utterly bored by the conversation at this point, while Posy and Francesca, who was newly engaged just like Sophie, were completely enraptured by what was happening. No doubt Francesca was planning on how her own wedding gown would look. Madame Delacroix had brought with her a book of new designs she was working on, which Francesca had slowly been going through as the modiste tended to Sophie, studying each drawing as if looking at the layout of a battlefield map and going through the same batch of white fabric swatches her mother had been going through for Sophie’s dress.

“I think they're both lovely,” Posy added sweetly.

While still a little nervous, Posy seemed to already be adapting well to her new life living with the Bridgertons. Her items had been unceremoniously dropped at the doorsteps of Number 5 by a carriage from Penwood House, which Sophie and Benedict had witnessed when they arrived at Number 5 that morning. The Penwood carriage was already departing down the road as the Bridgerton one pulled up.

And while there was some skepticism from Eloise and Hyacinth towards their new ward and roommate, that Sophie had noted when she arrived, no doubt confused as to how Posy Reiling had ended up coming to stay with them, they’d softened somewhat upon the realization that Sophie was quite happy to see her.

Her future sisters-in-law still did not know the full story of Sophie’s background, that was still only between Sophie, Violet, Benedict and Anthony for now (although Sophie had a suspicion Francesca may have already caught on and that the viscountess Kate probably knew as well), but none of them objected to the news Sophie and Benedict were to be married. Hyacinth especially was ecstatic at the news Sophie would now be her sister and had already declared herself the flower girl for the ceremony, without Benedict or Sophie’s asking her.

“They look the same if you asked me,” Eloise remarked flatly, not even looking up from the book she was reading as she lay slumped against the settee.

Violet’s lips pressed into a tight line as she regarded her daughter. The older woman appeared to be trying not to lecture her daughter on the obvious differences between the two fabrics and was so far successful at holding her tongue.

“I think we’re getting a bit too caught up on the details, mother,” Francesca, ever the mediator, added kindly. “Sophie will look beautiful in whatever gown she wears, but maybe she should be the one deciding that.”

“Oh, I really don’t mind,” Sophie told them all.

“No, no, Francesca’s right,” Violet replied, giving her a warm smile. “My apologies, I’m getting a bit too excited aren’t I? Why don’t you and Madame Delacroix discuss while Hyacinth and I decide on her outfit for Monday?”

Behind her Hyacinth immediately perked up. The young girl jumped to her feet and speedily raced towards the more colorful and bold fabric swatches the modiste had also brought with her, all laying on the nearby table, snatching up a few she’d been eying from afar.

“Of course, Lady Bridgerton,” Madame Delacroix said with a polite nod.

As Violet practically glided to where Hyacinth was standing, the two beginning to discuss her flower girl dress, Sophie was left awkwardly standing with Madame Delacroix, who had also seemed equally uncomfortable at the idea of being left alone with her and had been since their introductions.

But the modiste quickly plastered on a cheerful smile, one Sophie recognized as a laborer’s smile. Put on to placate employers and customers no doubt. “Now, Miss Beckett, what did you have in mind?” she asked.

“Um…” Sophie hesitated. “I’m not quite sure.”

“Are there fabrics you prefer? A style sleeve or cut you like? Lace or frills? Details? With the time constraints we’re under, I’ll be limited to what fabrics I have in my shop currently. I won’t be able to get a custom embroidery for you I’m afraid,” the modiste explained.

“Oh, that’s alright,” Sophie told her, feeling utterly out of her depth and overwhelmed.

Madame Delacroix seemed to notice her discomfort. “Why don’t we start with colors? Something simple maybe? White?”

She gave her a soft smile as she spoke, one which assured Sophie she would be perfectly fine with whatever she chose.

Sophie nodded. “Yes, I think plain old white is fine with me.”

“Now, do you prefer silk or cotton? Velvet will be a little too warm with the summer weather we are having but cotton or linen will breathe a little better. Linen breathes the best and will keep you cool, but silk is light too and has the added bonus making the gown look more regal and expensive. Because it is,” the modiste added with a wink.

“Oh, I think linen will be fine. I don’t want to be spending too much–” Sophie quickly started.

“Anthony asked me to inform you not to worry about cost so you can pick whatever you please,” Violet called out from across the room, not looking up from the designs she was reviewing with Hyacinth. “And silk will feel much softer than linen.”

“As long as it does not rain, you will look incroyable ,” Madame Delacroix told her.

Sophie frowned, noting once again that something was off about the modiste’s french. While Sophie’s father had been rather hands off in her care growing up, he had gotten her a French tutor straight from Paris, one who had made sure Sophie’s accent and pronunciation of the French language was not one of a lowly peasant but one that matched with the educated and wealthy nobles. Something Sophie had always found funny given her tutor was an old revolutionary, who’d been more than welcomed to explain to her his experiences in Paris during the revolution and the bloody Reign of Terror which had followed (and in gruesome detail) without her even requesting him to, which had been quite a lot for the then seven year old Sophie to take in. But while he would philosophize to her about the rights of the people to live freely without a monarchy and his beliefs about how laborers should be treated, he was an educated man who cherished his language and was particular about the way it should be spoken.

But it wasn’t the accent that had caught Sophie’s attention, it was that Madame Delacroix seemed to only use a small set list of words, mainly compliments, simple words too like 'hello' and 'goodbye,' while also writing all of her notes and measurements in English. Which was odd, given Sophie assumed all of the modiste’s personal matters would be written in her native language. It had been the same with her old tutor.

She was beginning to wonder if Madame Delacroix was truly the French Parisian she claimed to be.

“I suppose silk will be fine,” she told her with a small nod. She’d probably look quite nice in silk and a soft fabric would be more comfortable, even if she was certain she would be sweating buckets due to her nerves.

“And while I would recommend you add gold details, I believe silver would be Mr. Bridgerton’s preference?” Madame Delacroix said somewhat knowingly.

Sophie found herself nervously nodding in agreement. She wouldn’t deny she enjoyed the idea of calling back to their first meeting. Benedict would certainly enjoy it.

Madame Delacroix smiled as she pulled at the fabric of the pinned dress Sophie was in, eyeing it as if she was imagining the finished product in her mind.

“I have a few embroidery fabrics I can show you that I think will go nicely. And I know Mr. Bridgerton enjoys a lower neckline versus a cinched waist. He always says it's because of the detail in the embroidery of the fabrics, but that’s never where his eyes truly look. But he does find simplicity to be quite pretty too. And I think you’ll look good in a low square cut or maybe a sweetheart with a tulle or chiffon overlay. Like a Grecian goddess. I have a nice silver white with some lace doves I think will look good. He’ll certainly enjoy it,” Madame Delacroix continued with a fond chuckle.

Sophie nodded along, but found herself momentarily surprised and confused by some of the words she was using. “I’m sorry? He’ll enjoy what?”

Which is when Sophie also realized the modiste somehow knew about Benedict’s searches for the Lady in Silver. That had never been in a Whistledown Report, and Benedict told her he’d limited his conversations to family and a few close friends.

Madame Delacroix's smile faltered for a moment, her eyes widening as if she’d been caught before she laughed and waved her hand flippantly at her. “I mean men are so easily distracted, no? From how his sisters speak he sounds to be so blinded by your beauty and charm all we can do is amplify it. And with Mr. Bridgerton being an artist, should detail not reflect in his bride’s gown?”

“Um, I…I suppose,” Sophie replied, still feeling a little confused.

The modiste had sounded so familiar with Benedict, as if speaking of an old friend-an old flame, that Sophie was momentarily thrown by it, but she supposed Madame Delacroix, one of the most popular modistes in all of London, was so used to dressing the nobles and wealthy women of society she’d come to learn quite a lot about what man liked and did not like.

And, Sophie couldn’t ignore that the Bridgertons typically had their gowns all done by her, she’d probably overheard something during a fitting. Violet might have spoken to her about her sons for all she knew.

“When I’m done with your gown you look as though you came out of one of his paintings. And he certainly won’t be able to keep his hands off you,” Madame Delacroix added. Then, a little louder, she announced. “Well, I believe I have everything I need for your gown, Miss Beckett. Lady Bridgerton, have you and Miss Hyacinth decided on her gown?”

“Yes, I believe Hyacinth knows exactly what she wants,” Violet replied, sounding somewhat exasperated, as she sat next to a very excited, vibrating Hyacinth.

“Let me help you get out of this first so you can change,” Madame Delacroix told Sophie as she began plucking some of the pins from the fabric wrapped around her. “I’m certain you are tired of standing around like a stiff mannequin.”

Sophie nodded her understanding, still processing their interaction, but she found it best to just shrug it off. It was easily explainable, nothing she needed to worry about.

And, if anything, she could probably talk to Benedict about it. If it truly was still bothering her.

“How the hell were you able to stay so calm when you were getting married?” Benedict called out as he slumped into a chair in his brother’s office, while Anthony bee-lined for the whiskey the moment behind him.

The pair of them had just returned from a visit with the tailor, one where Benedict thought his head was going to explode from how many unnecessary suggestions the owner had kept making. Just make a simple wedding suit, in black, there was no need for anything extra. The damn man should already have his measurements. It shouldn’t be so difficult.

And the longer they had stayed there, the longer he was kept from reuniting with Sophie.

Anthony downed the large glass he’d poured, personally at his wits end with his brother after their adventure at the tailor, then poured two more. He brought both over with him as he headed to his desk and handed one to Benedict as he passed.

“Because I’m an incredibly patient man, who knew that I had not only fulfilled my duties to this family but was marrying the woman I loved,” his brother informed. “It was worth the wait.”

“Are you referencing the first or second one when you say that?” Benedict mockingly asked, getting a sharp glare for it in return.

“The second,” Anthony deadpanned. “Obviously.”

Benedict snickered as he took a sip of his glass. “I’m still surprised you and Kate didn’t pressure the Archbishop for permission to marry earlier.”

“We certainly thought about it, but there was enough going on that a three week wait would give the ton enough time to move on. And Whistledown gave us the added blessing by barely writing about it,” Anthony returned as he took a seat, slumping into his chair in a similar manner to Benedict yet somehow still rigid and with a noble ease becoming of a viscount.

“She’ll certainly have something to say when she hears about this,” Benedict remarked.

“As will the rest of the ton no doubt,” Anthony added.

Benedict felt his gut twist inside him at the thought, but in all honesty it was something he had no interest in discussing right now. No matter how much he tried to ignore it, the way the ton would react to his choice in a wife would happen. And in the way he knew it would.

But while he could care less about what the ton thought about him, he was more worried about Sophie. She was no doubt about to get wicked assumptions and cruel opinions made about her by people who’d only just learned she existed. She didn’t deserve that.

“Mother said you wished to speak of my inheritance,” he said to his brother, wanting to move the conversation along so his mind would not seize with panic over Sophie’s well being. He needed a distraction. And fast.

Anthony nodded, grabbing a stack of papers and handing them over to Benedict. “There are a few final pieces of father’s will, which I know you already are aware of. Some paperwork you’ll have to sign. There are all matters that would be handed to you once you were married, including your inheritance. Along with a few final items father left to you. Are you and Sophie planning to remain in London?”

Benedict shook his head as he scanned the documents. “Sophie prefers the country. And I don’t want her anywhere near the talk I know is about to start come Monday.”

His brother nodded. “The ton will certainly be interested in how a Bridgerton came to have a rushed marriage with a country maid.”

There was nothing rude or snide in his tone, just a direct truthful remark of their situation, but only reminded Benedict of the precarious situation he was still in with Sophie. His anxiety, still trying to worm its way through his body, continued its slow progression towards his thoughts.

They may have prevented Araminta from informing the entire city the circumstances of Sophie’s birth, but she was still considered of the lower class. And marrying up no less. Everyone and their mother was about to have an opinion on this, regardless of how much social standing his family had.

But Anthony didn’t seem interested in lingering on that matter either. Besides, he knew their mother, Kate and Daphne were all working on it behind the scenes. Implementing a plan to help manage the rumors and whispers that would no doubt reach a fever pitch once someone discovered the Archbishop acceptance.

“There are a few estates in Kent if you wish to remain near Aubrey Hall.”

“My Cottage is fine enough for the both of us,” Benedict replied.

Anthony raised a brow in surprise. “She doesn’t find it too small?”

Benedict chuckled. “She thinks it's huge. And it's only a little smaller than this place,” he told him, motioning to their surroundings.

The Bridgerton House fit his entire family and then some. My Cottage was roughly the same square footage, but with a few less rooms. It was the land that was far more expansive than the home.

“And you forget. Sophie grew up in a far grander home than we did,” he added.

“Hence my inquiry. Gunningworth was quite wealthy and the Penwood estate is an incredible sight I’ve been told,” Anthony said with a hum as Benedict took the quill and ink and began signing the documents. “Which reminds me, the new Earl of Penwood has made an appearance in the city.”

“All of the sudden?” Benedict said with a frown.

The eighth Earl of Penwood, a distant Gunningworth cousin from the north who inherited after Sophie’s father died without a male heir, had followed in his predecessor's footsteps. Remaining as far away from society as he could and as much as possible, even more than the late earl had. He was pretty much an enigma.

“His most likely here for the vote the House of Lords has coming up, but my concern is that he’ll be at Penwood House with a certain dowager countess during this time,” Anthony informed him.

“You think Araminta will try to sway him to her side?” Benedict asked, growing concern.

“If he’s smart he will know that revealing Sophie’s true heritage will cause him more problems than solutions. And if he was aware of what the real will said regarding Sophie’s dowry and that he did nothing to guarantee that she received it, it would make him look as though he cannot control his own house. He’ll look weak in the eyes of other noblemen. And we can also threaten him with financial ruin if it comes to it given the fraud that occurred,” Anthony replied.

“But that won’t stop him ruining Sophie’s reputation in the process,” he returned.

“I don’t know much about him to gauge what kind of man he is, or what he’ll do,” Anthony told him. “Has Sophie ever mentioned him? His character?”

Benedict thought it over for a moment. “She was quite certain he was a drunkard. Said she realized it later. He spent most of the funeral and the reading of the will, red-faced and drinking from a flask. But other than that, she hardly interacted with him. She’d never met him until the funeral and she never saw him again after Araminta moved to Penwood House.”

“A drunk means a potential issue with impulse while in public,” Anthony commented, making Benedict only tense more. “I’ll keep an eye on it. There is a meeting tomorrow morning at the House of Lords. One he’ll be expected to show his face at. Simon and I will try to seek him out. See if we can get an idea what kind of man he is.”

“Don’t tell Sophie,” Benedict blurted out suddenly. “Sorry, I…I don’t want her worrying. She’s dealt with enough this week already.”

Anthony nodded. “I won’t. But I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thank you,” Benedict told him, rising from his feet. He now more than ever wanted to get to Number 5. “I’m going to head over and check on her. See how she’s fairing with our dear mother.”

“Kate and I will be over with the boys in an hour for tea,” Anthony replied. “I have some matters to attend to first, but I’ll see you then. And Benedict?”

“Yes?”

“I haven’t been able to say it yet, but congratulations. Sophie’s a welcomed addition to the family. I wish you both nothing but happiness,” Anthony told him sincerely. “You both deserve it.”

“Thank you brother,” Benedict replied with a small smile.

“You ready?” his brother added.

“Completely,” Benedict answered without hesitating.

Anthony gave him a small, proud smile as he quietly regarded him, before it vanished and he waved him along, back to business. “Go. I’ll see you later.”

While Sophie had thought the visit with the modiste had left her with her head spinning, the meetings with the florist and the cook had been equally overwhelming.

And exhausting.

She found herself all but collapsing on the settee. After the florist had left and Violet and Sophie had met with the cook, Francesca had suggested to Posy a trip to the market, so that she and her sisters could get to know her better.

(And also so that Sophie would have a chance to breathe.)

They’d all just departed with a few lady’s maids, leaving Sophie and Violet as the only ones in Number 5. It was the first time Sophie had felt silence descend in the home since she’d arrived that morning. Both her and Violet seemed ready to take a break. Violet had already asked Mrs. Wilson to fetch them some tea so they could take a few moments to relax before Anthony and his family arrived.

“Mother,” Benedict announced cheerfully as he suddenly entered the room. “Don’t you look radiant as ever.”

Violet, who’d been sitting in the settee across from Sophie and was about to ask her something, stopped, whipping around to look over her shoulder at where her son had suddenly materialized in the doorway behind her. She looked surprised to see him here so early.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the tailor?” she told him, flatly, watching him as he immediately crossed the room to where Sophie was, bypassing her completely.

“Already finished,” Benedict replied as he took a seat next to his fiancee, pressing a kiss to Sophie’s cheek. “How are you?” he whispered in her ear.

“Good,” Sophie replied. “Tired.”

“Has my mother driven you mad yet?” he asked mischievously, his arm slithered around the back of the sofa, behind Sophie’s head, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder. “She certainly had that effect when she’s in planning mode.”

“I am sitting right here, Benedict,” Violet informed her son curtly.

“How are you mother? How goes the wedding planning?” Benedict asked, as if he hadn’t said anything to Sophie.

Violet's first response was to take a deep breath. “Well. Madame Delacroix should have the gown ready by Sunday and Sophie and I picked out some lovely arrangements. The cook also will want your input–”

“I’m fine with whatever Sophie picked. I trust her judgement completely,” Benedict assured her.

“She wanted pickle herring,” Violet deadpanned.

Sophie gave her a bewildered look. She most certainly had not picked that.

But, she quickly realized that was the point. That Violet was merely lying in an attempt to fool her son, who was momentarily stunned by her statement.

“Well…that is…” Benedict stumbled to find the words. It took a few moments of uncomfortable silence before he did. “That’s fine. I love pickle herring.”

“You hate pickle herring,” his mother informed him.

Benedict bristled. “I do not.”

Violet appeared to be fighting with herself not to roll her eyes at him. “Benedict, you hate pickled anything. Have hated it since you were a child.”

“I do not,” he argued back.

She couldn’t help it. Sophie started chuckling, catching Benedict’s attention and revealing the ruse.

“I didn’t pick pickle herring,” she whispered, coming to his rescue. “I don’t like pickle herring either.”

Benedict blinked at her in surprise, before looking over at his mother, mouth open and aghast. Almost wounded like.

“Mother,” he gasped. “How could you?”

But Violet only shrugged.

“You’re allowed to have differences, Benedict. And you should,” she told him. “It’s a good thing. It means you're honest with one another. For years, I told your father I liked the way the cook made lemon tarts when in actuality I thought they were far too sour,” she then let out a sigh, shaking her head as she recalled the matter. “Your father. Good lord. He couldn’t stop asking the cook to make them for me. I thought I was going to be stuck eating those awful tarts forever.”

“And yet father kept tight-lipped for most of his life about how awful you were at the pianoforte,” Benedict said with a sly smile.

Violet gave him a small glower for that remark. “Well, that’s different,” she told them.

“She’s truly dreadful,” Benedict told Sophie. “That’s why Daphne was made to learn at such a young age. My father was trying to make sure my mother could no longer play because Daphne was using it to practice.”

“Because that was any better,” Violet said with a scoff.

“And none of us could tell her,” he continued. “I asked my father once why we couldn’t and he said,” Benedict then cleared his throat, before deepening his voice into an utterly inaccurate imitation of his late father as he spoke. “Son, when a woman asks you for your opinion on her talents, and if you love her very dearly, your safest bet is to always tell her she’s an expert at it.”

“Your father did not say that,” Violet chided with a gasp.

“My father was a smart man who loved you and knew how to keep you happy,” Benedict returned.

Violet gave him a look that said she still disagreed, but said nothing against it. Behind her, Mrs. Wilson entered carrying a tray, which she brought over towards the table nearby. Seeing the housekeeper, Violet rose to assist her, taking over the pouring and preparing of the cups.

While she may no longer have been a maid, Sophie, instinctually, got up to go and help her future mother-in-law. But she was prevented from assisting her the moment she moved past Benedict.

Because she felt a hand come to rest on her behind, which caused her to momentarily tense up, before the hand gathered up a handful of her skirt and tugged sharply back, pulling her backwards and making her lose her footing.

And causing her to land directly on Benedict’s waiting lap.

It was almost instantaneous. As if she’d been burned, Sophie was immediately pushing herself back up to stand. The thought of being caught being improper, in front of Benedict’s family – his mother (again!) – had her adamant to escape from him as fast as possible. Only Benedict’s arm had already snaked around her waist, pulling her back and keeping her pinned against him as she heard him chuckle in her ear. All while Violet had her back still turned to them as she continued to pour her cup, unaware of what was transpiring behind her.

“Let go,” Sophie hissed quietly as she wiggled.

“No,” Benedict whispered into her, she could hear the smile on his face as he spoke. Then she felt his lips gently press a kiss on the back of her neck, making her tense up.

“Stop it,” she ordered quietly.

Benedict hummed as he thought it over. Then she felt another soft kiss. “No.”

“Benedict–” she started quietly, but he only chuckled lightly, his breaths tickling her neck and making her shiver.

His hands roaming over her sides and towards her inner thighs. Even with the fabric covering her, Sophie felt exposed, as if his fingers were touching skin. Warmth began pooling below her stomach. A familiar tight feeling following, one which she couldn’t tell was desire or anxiety.

“Might you both please save it for the honeymoon?” Anthony’s voice suddenly interrupted them with a sigh.

They both glanced over and found him, with Miles held comfortably in his arms, standing in the doorway. Behind him was Kate and little Edmund, who had rushed ahead of his parents after Newton and into the room to greet his grandmother, yelling his greeting loudly as he rushed to her side.

Violet turned, right as her grandson impacted with her to give her a big hug, and spotted the pair immediately. Her light blue eyes widening in shock before she shot Benedict a harsh look. Sophie’s cheeks burned as she shifted her hips and rolled off his lap and onto the settee next to him, but Benedict still kept one arm protectively around her, his hand resting on her thigh. And unlike her, he was not at all embarrassed by being caught by his family. He only smiled sharply at his brother, a mischievous glint still lingering in his eyes.

“As if you and Kate were any better. If the desk in your office had any semblance of sentience it would be traumatized by what it's seen you two do on it,” he shot back, which made Kate let out a loud laugh as she entered the room. Anthony only shook his head at him in disgust as he followed his wife.

“Benedict. Behave,” Violet admonished. Sophie was beginning to wonder if it was possible for someone to just melt into a puddle due to sheer embarrassment.

“You’re disgusting,” Anthony remarked. “And for that, you can take your nephew.”

Antony then handed over his youngest. The little baby happily squealed as he was taken into his uncle’s arms, reaching out to grab Benedict’s face. Benedict returned the squeal by blowing a big raspberry at his nephew, poking his tongue out at him, which only made Mile’s descend into a greater fit of laughter.

“Hello Miss Sophie,” Edmund greeted her suddenly by wrapping his arms around her legs.

“Hello Edmund. How are you?” Sophie asked.

The young boy looked up and gave her a bright smile, his round cheeks going pink. In the very brief time Edmund had known his aunts’ new lady’s maid it had become quite apparent that he liked her. As if she’d become a new toy, Edmund had spent most of his visits to Number 5 chatting happily with her and telling her just how much he liked her.

“How have you been, Sophie?” Kate asked as she came to sit next to her.

“I’m doing well,” Sophie replied.

Kate gave her a smile. “Well, congratulations. We’re all incredibly happy for both of you.”

“Why congratulations?” Edmund asked his mother curiously.

“Oh, that’s right. Remember how I told you on the way here that you’re uncle had some big news,” Kate told her son sweetly, as her husband took a seat on the settee across from them and Violet came over and took Miles from Benedict.

Edmund nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“Well, your uncle is getting married. To Miss Sophie,” Kate cheerfully told him.

Edmund blinked up at her. “What?” he asked.

“Didn’t you hear that, Edmund?” Violet said happily. “Miss Sophie is going to be your aunt.”

The little boy’s head whipped towards her at the news. Dark eyes wide with surprise.

Edmund blinked slowly at them, glancing between his uncle and future aunt, then to his grandmother, and then back to Sophie with an increasing alarm and distressed look as he took in the news. His eyes went bigger and rounder as they suddenly started to fill with watery tears and he began to sniffle. Something had apparently upset him greatly.

“Edmund, sweetheart. Whatever is the matter?” Kate asked, growing concerned.

The little boy took a deep, shaking breath. Then another. And then another. All while his relatives carefully watched him with mixed expressions of worry and concern, waiting for him to explain himself. But he just kept taking deep breath after deep breath, before letting his head fall back, his mouth opening wide, as he began to wail. Startling Newton, who trotted over quickly to check on him, and also little Miles, who began to get fussy in Violet’s arms from the loud noise.

“I want to marry Sophie!” Edmund cried out loudly.

His parents and relatives all immediately sagged with relief as they realized it was not something truly horrible that had pushed the young boy to tears.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Kate leaned forward to grab him. She had a look of sympathy as she reached out to comfort her son, but there was still a small smile on her face she’d been unable to hold back, finding the reason for her son’s tears utterly adorable.

“Edmund, you cannot marry Sophie,” Violet gently told him with a soft chuckle.

“Why?” Edmund cried back, turning towards his grandmother.

“Because you're too little to be getting married,” Anthony told him, but it only made the boy cry harder. It was as if Edmund had just received the worst news imaginable.

Benedict had a fist pressed against his mouth as he looked away, focusing on the window behind him, his body shaking as he tried to hold back his laughter. He did not want his poor nephew to see him.

But Edmund could have cared less about him right now, turning towards Sophie, who seemed to be the only one still concerned about his crying. Mossy eyes wide with surprise and concern as she watched him.

“You can’t marry uncle Ben,” he told her stubbornly, sniffling.

“Miss Sophie has already said yes to marrying your uncle,” Anthony informed his son, before Sophie had a chance to say anything.

“But she can’t!” he shouted back dramatically, rubbing his palms over his eyes as he tried to wipe away the tears. A rather sweet and sad sight as the boy practically was smacking his eyes in his attempts.

“There, there,” Kate cooed as she chuckled, gently laughing as she rubbed her son’s back.

“I was going to marry Miss Sophie,” Edmund repeated as he cried.

While the rest of his family seemed to find his reaction sweet, Sophie was feeling rather guilty over causing the young boy’s tears. Even though Kate was already rubbing his back, gently shushing him and telling him he was alright.

“Would you like a hug, Edmund?” she inquired gently.

Edmund obliged instantly, nodding his head furiously as he rushed over and started climbing up the settee as if he was scaling the Alps. Sophie got her hands under his armpits, helping to pull him up so he sat between her and Kate, after which Edmund threw his arms around her, pressing his face into her side. No doubt leaving a few wet marks on her gown. Sophie gave him a quick, comforting squeeze before letting his sag down into the settee and relax next to her.

“Edmund, I’m very sorry I upset you,” Sophie gently told him, rubbing her hand up and down his back as she comforted him, while Edmund's cries slowly subsided.

The small boy took a few big gulps of air as he tried to calm himself. Sniffling, he moved his head to keep it rested against her side, his ear pressed right against her lower ribs.

“It’s alright. I don’t blame you Miss Sophie,” he told her.

But he was looking right at Benedict as he spoke, with a little frown on his typically sweet face. His brows pinched together and his lips pursed into a tight pout as he glared at his uncle. He was the picture of his father suddenly, with the very same expression Benedict recalled Anthony having when they were little and arguing over their toys. Like he expected to be told that Sophie was no longer his and that he’d have to share.

But Benedict could only chuckled back at his nephew fondly, knowing he was already victorious.

Finding himself unable to intimidate his uncle, Edmund turned his attention back to Sophie.

“You’ll live here, right? I’ll still be able to see you?” he quietly inquired, voice tired from all the dramatics but filled with gentle hope that Sophie marrying his uncle meant he would still see her. And more regularly.

But the answer to that question did not please the young boy at all.

#bridgerton #my fics.#benophie #sophie beckett #benedict bridgerton #another multi chapter one I have no idea when I’ll finish ✌🏻😔✌🏻#going to the chapel fic

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armpirate · 8 months

Text

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 32

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 12 minutes

Seoul, South Korea. 10:23 am

The phone buzzed over his table, creating a vibrating sound that got his attention as soon as it started. He knew who it was, she had been calling him non-stop since she landed in Spain. It almost became a routine the week they were aware.

She'd wake up, and the first thing she did was make his phone ring wherever he was and whatever the time it was in Korea. And Jungkook would let it buzz, seeing her name displayed on the screen, and feeling relieved just by knowing she was okay and safe to call him.

Y/n usually just called, and sent random texts throughout the day. She kept insisting on speaking directly to him, and getting the answer he was the only one she could get it from. But that day, she left a message after the tone. And Jungkook knew it'd be over for him the second he heard her voice for the first time in almost seven days, but he still clicked his phone to be able to hear what she had to say.

—I know you probably won't listen to this —her shaky voice started—, but I can't believe you've done this. You had no right to act like that, and I will never forgive you for pushing me away when I needed to be next to you the most. It's not only your fight —he heard her yearning—. I hate you, more than ever. I really hate you, Jungkook —she sobbed—. But please, come back to me soon.

Her discourse got interrupted by her own sobs and the sound of her nose sniffling, before the message suddenly stopped and he could only listen to the constant beeps. His face was hidden, while he tried to look down, as if that would make the fact that his heart was breaking after hearing her like that, as if that would change the fact that he was crying over her again.

Y/n was never a vulnerable and delicate woman, she was always fierce and strong, keeping the tough and cool facade as if her life depended on it. But she broke down, she showed herself fragile and weak through that message. She allowed him to see the side she considered the worst from her, bringing it up when she promised she would never be like that ever again.

But regret got over her decision. She regretted believing everything he said and showed the night she got on the jet, she was hurt by her own actions and wished she could turn back time to the moment she started making it difficult for them. Maybe if she had enjoyed her time with him while she was able to, she wouldn't feel like she was missing on something. And all those thoughts took her to ask herself whether they'd be in that situation or not if she hadn't acted the way she did. While Jungkook regretted knowing about her existence. He didn't want to wonder what would've happened if he hadn't gone to the club that day, or if he had ignored her stage and went back to the hotel like he planned. But he was sure she wouldn't be in danger if he had done things differently. And that was something he wasn't able to forgive himself.

Two knocks on his door got him raising his gaze from the table, looking up to the thick door that was being opened by Yejun. Behind him, Sanhyuk adopted that arrogant pose, puffed chest while his hands were inside the pockets of his slacks, while he made his way inside his office.

Yejun was getting ready to close the door behind him and take the free spot at Jungkook's right, but his steps were stopped before he was even able to take a step in his direction.

—Wait outside.

Confused at first, the short-haired young man only bowed to his boss and stepped out of the office, closing the door behind him. Action that even surprised Sanhyuk, who puckered his lips momentarily before he grinned to the ground.

—Top secret meeting, huh? —he raised his eyebrows.

—Take a seat and listen —Jungkook cut him off, pointing to one of the two free chairs in front of his desk.

—Not even Y/n can know about this?

Hearing her name, out of someone else's mouth, for the first time in days made him realize how sensitive he still was over her departure. He turned his body completely towards the tall man ahead of him, that was dedicating him a cocky smile.

—Put your ass in that goddamn chair and shut up —Jungkook interrupted him, raising his voice.

He finally sighed in relief when he saw Sanhyuk was taking the spot he signaled him, stopping his burdensome behavior for a few seconds.

—She isn't in Seoul —Jungkook finally answered.

—What? —he scoffed— You trying to tell me you gave Busan to my family, paid for her, only to lose her in a matter of days? Wow —he grimaced, tilting his head slightly as he made himself comfortable on the chair—, you never fail to amaze me.

—That's not it —he mentioned—, and it's not even what I called you in for.

Jungkook tried to sound as calm and relaxed as possible. He needed to keep his anger to himself, and put all the issues he had with Sanhyuk to the side if he wanted everything to work properly.

—You don't like me, and I don't like you either. And you're the last person I want to work with —he looked at him in the eyes—, but I want to make a deal with you. No one can know about this. No one —he made sure to reiterate—. Not even Y/n. If everything works the way it should, I'm willing to combine the power of our families and share everything Bangtan has gained throughout the years.

—What's the trick here? —he squinted his eyes— Is this some type of trap to get back at me for what I did to Y/n? Or to get Busan back?

—Trust me, you're the least of my worries —he interrupted him—. And if everything works well, you'll get even more than just Busan.

—You aren't planning to retire, are you? —Sanhyuk ironically asked, eyes opening wide when Jungkook dropped his sight to the ground— You're retiring —he exclaimed—. You will really finish the legacy your father worked your way in.

—Like I said, your family will gain more than what you will give. It'll take time, it won't be easy, but I want to leave it all tied.

Jungkook stood up from his seat again, getting the files with the pictures Namjoon sent him, throwing it in front of Sanhyuk over the table. His smile slowly dropped, as if he understood what Jungkook worries were when he saw the pictures. Not because he was worried for Y/n, but because those pictures augured a bad ending for the Choi family as well.

—I need your help to know who's behind this —Jungkook asked.

—As if you didn't know who this is from —Sanhyuk threw the file back at him—. That type of threat only came from your family in the past. We never used that type of sign. And why would anyone from our family threaten Y/n, by the way? At the end of the day, we've only obtained things thanks to her. If I wanted more power, I could always kidnap her again.

Jungkook's jaw clenched at that joke, accompanied by a grin that was pissing him off. He shifted his eyes away, trying to focus back on the conversation. Keeping his mind stable, and emotionless, was the only way to get everything to work out.

—I know it wasn't your family —he limited himself to saying—. But whoever it is knows my moves and how I work. They don't know you though. You're too irrational and impulsive for them to know what your next step will be, and doubt they'd care about what you do anyway.

—It's going to be expensive as fuck for you.

—I don't care —he shook his head—. Make sure you find out who it is, help me get them out of the way, and not only you'll have everything that's mine, but your family will also be able to take advantage of our positions overseas.

—What will you do then?

—I don't know who that person is, but two big families will be able to deal with whoever shithead is messing with me —he tilted his head—. I'll kill them, and I'll step back from all of this for good. This was never meant to be mine, anyway.

There wasn't anything else Sanhyuk could say, it was a deal made in heaven. All those benefits, and the only thing he'd have to do is give him the information he starts finding? It was the easiest job he had put his men to do.

✸ ✸ ✸

Mallorca, Spain. 03:23 am

Y/n dropped her phone on her bed, hugging her legs as she bended them and his her face in them. It almost felt like a ritual since she went back to Mallorca and left Seoul for good. Every day she'd call that phone number that pretended to be her, hopeful that Jungkook would pick it up and tell her he missed her. But that never happened. She knew he was still aware of her calls, and the fact that he didn't get rid of that phone number made her think there was still some hope left.

The first days, she tried to convince herself the only thing she was missing from him was the money, the stability and the security of having something that would back her up. Maybe it was all about the money, and how she missed having everything when she had nothing all her life.

But her thoughts changed on a Wednesday morning, when she bothered to go to the bank to check whether there were any debts or something she had to deal with. At first, she was surprised her account still worked as usual, sliding her card inside the machine after she got the password for the app after an uncomfortable visit to the general desk.

Her knees went weak when she was aware of the amount of money she had, feeling dizzy as she scrolled over the site. Most of the transactions came from the same bank account, with similar quantities that didn't surpass the 5,000 euros per week. At that point, she didn't even care about taxes or whether that could mean she'd end up under investigation or not.

Her mind took another shift when night arrived, and she found herself crying to sleep again, dragging her body over the mattress to reach her phone and call him again. Only to end up with the same tone drilling her ears. It had been like that ever since that day, that she decided to be vocal about her feelings, thinking her words would move him to call her back.

But it never happened.

"I promise I will never forgive you if something happens to you while I'm here" she sent, dropping her phone back over the bed to hide her face in her thighs again.

Being there was all she wanted, but suddenly she felt empty. She had the money, she had the stability, and she had her family. Yet she was still dissatisfied with everything, because he was the one missing.

Something about her desperately calling Jungkook reminded her of her old self, and how she battled against the door to get back home, although it was pretty obvious her parents changed the lock so she wouldn't be able to. That same way, Jungkook was also aware how she fought to get back to him, to go back to everything she left behind, but he still kept that door closed for her.

The sounds of her hands smacking against the thick door, and her desperate whines, got her hiding her face deeper in her own body -thinking that would make all those memories disappear.

Again, she was feeling aimless, with no control of everything that was falling over her, and again she was thinking she'd have to adapt herself to the sensation of being forced to adapt to the events.

She thought that, through the years, it'd be easier for her. She had done it once, twice... And she was willing to do it for a third time, but something about being away from Jungkook kept her from even thinking of moving on.

She didn't want to.

She was already forced to give up on something she wanted years ago because the universe played all its cards against her, but she didn't want to give up on him, and it didn't matter what or who tried to prevent her from him. She still had a chance, something she didn't have when she was eighteen and life made her see how everything she craved and tried to protect slipped through her fingers.

Waking up the next day felt like a challenge -especially because she barely slept at night-, but Y/n still found the motivation to hop off her bed, get dressed and step outside.

If Jungkook wasn't willing to reply back to her, she was going to go back to him and find the real answers herself. She had the money, she had the time, she just needed a ticket on any given day and she'd show up in front of him.

Or at least that was what she thought while she made her way back home after a long day, carrying her ticket and her passport in her bag like it was gold.

She got out of the bus, hugging the string tight in her hand while she walked all the way back to her place. It wasn't weird her neighborhood was scary at night. There was barely anyone around, the lights barely brightened the street, and her paranoia didn't help either, forcing her to look behind her every three steps while she rushed her walk.

Turning left suddenly, she thought it'd be better to change the usual route she took when she was living there -and the same one she had been taking for a few days. Although her walk got blocked out of nowhere, when a tall man stepped in front of her.

—Sorry —she managed to walk past him.

—Y/n —she heard her name being pronounced so slowly, that she thought it sounded similar to a threat—, Jeon wants to make sure you're okay.

—If he wanted to know that, he'd answer my calls —she tried to keep her way.

—He can't with that phone, for your safety —she frowned at that comment—, but there's a way you could speak to him.

Y/n had been aware of someone following her almost every day, as soon as she stepped outside. Although the Asian boy never got closer to her more than just a few meters, and didn't really try to hide the fact that he was following her -and sometimes even taking pictures of her. It wouldn't surprise her if he was sent by Jungkook to make sure she was okay and doing her things, but the man in front of her wasn't the same one. He seemed older, taller and his approach also felt different, darker even.

—Tell him I don't want to speak to him now —she kept stepping back—. He lost his chance.

—Y/n, Jungkook will get mad —the man kept stepping in her direction—. And you know how he gets when he's mad.

It just took her to see him close enough, before her foot fought to his crotch, forcing him to bed to his knees and finally giving her a sign to run in the opposite direction through the alleys. Breathless, and close to fainting due to nervousness and tiredness, she stopped and tried to herself at the entrance of a portal, only peeking over the wall a few times to make sure that man wasn't following her.

—Guard down. Mistake —she heard another male voice mention on her back.

Before she was able to turn and find out who was the person who spoke, she felt something covering her mouth, holding her tight in the spot until she lost all control of her body and consciousness.

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

#fanfic #ff #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkookxreader #jk #bts #wattpad #kookie #smut #jungkook smut #mafia!au #The Only One #reader insert #armpirate

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terrainofheartfelt · 10 months

Note

okay could you do dair 23 or 26

Dair + 23 …in relief.

(there was another request for dair + 26 so that shalt be answered later <3)

(in the meantime, some 5x24 canon divergence as self care <3)

Dan knocks back the shot Serena hands him with a wince. Tequila. Whenever Dan shoots tequila he makes ill-advised choices. Which is why for his birthday two weeks ago, he and Blair drank Manhattans before feeling each other up in the bar bathroom.

Whiskey goes with Blair, warm but harsh, sweet and sharp, burns down through his chest like being in love. Tequila is dangerous. Tequila is…well…Serena.

“Okay, okay, time-out,” Dan pleads, making a T with his hands, trying in vain to referee his own life.

Serena laughs, her smile glinting around a wedge of lime. “Don’t give up on me now, Dan. I never took you for a lightweight.”

He snorts. “Yeah, well, anyone’s a lightweight when they ingest tequila on an empty stomach.”

He hasn’t eaten all day. He couldn’t make himself. His stomach has been twisted up in knots ever since those fucking Gossip Girl blasts. He’d stupidly thought that drinking would help, but it’s only made it worse.

Serena pats his shoulder sympathetically. “There’s food around here somewhere. I’ll flag someone –”

She lifts her arm, and despite his compromised state, Dan is able to spot the danger. He stumbles backward and pulls Serena with him, out of the way of a passing waiter, narrowly saving the both of them from being doused by an entire bottle of champagne.

“Whoa,” he brilliantly comments, then reflexively drops his hands from Serena’s arms to his sides, releasing her.

She only steps closer, looking at him with concern. “You okay?”

He chokes on an hysterical laugh, because no, he is clearly not, and suddenly everything in the party becomes too much. The noise, the people, the terrible music, the lighting, the dense, cloying air of a hundred over perfumed American aristocrats, and is he that drunk or is Serena still extremely close to him?

“Uh – yeah.” He rakes a hand through his hair—it’s so hot in here that he wishes he could chop it off now, or at least have a hair tie on his wrist like Jenny always does. “I just – I need some air.”

He takes a step back, and Serena immediately follows him. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, Serena –” he snaps, then catches himself, his stomach does a violent flip. Personal space has never been much of a thing with them, even as friends, but now Dan feels on the precipice of something dangerous. “I’m pretty sure I’m gonna puke. And I know that dress you’re wearing is worth more than my book deal, so –” he waves a vague hand, and turns and walks away before Serena can protest again.

Dan ends up on the sidewalk in front of Grand Central. Given the spring humidity and all the city smells that come with it, the air outside the Campbell isn’t much better, but at least out here Dan can be alone for a moment.

He knows she means well, but Serena’s hovering only makes him feel worse, like she’s already decided what choice Blair is going to make.

Dan supposes if anyone were qualified to weigh in on Blair’s choices, it would be Serena. But no, Blair hasn’t really let Serena know her for a long time now, and maybe Dan is partially to blame for that, but — he’s too drunk to follow this thread right now.

He leans back against the wall to steady himself. He’s already out here, public transportation hub at his back, it would be pretty easy to make a getaway, spare him the humiliation of waiting around for the rest of the night.

But, what if?

He tips his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. Too many trains of thought, too much tequila to chase them down.

“Dan?”

He wrenches his eyes open. No way.

“Oh thank god,” he mutters, pushing himself off the wall and into Blair’s arms, pouring all the relief he can’t speak into a kiss.

“Mm – Dan,” she pulls back, but holds her grip on his lapels, keeping him close. She wrinkles her nose, impossibly cute, and he loves her. “You taste like a distillery.”

He loves her.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, tipping his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms tighter around her waist.

“I’m so, so sorry,” he repeats unevenly, apologizing for more than just the tequila breath. For being drunk now, for serving her that stupid ultimatum, for nearly giving up on his end of it, for saying too much and scaring her off.

“It’s fine,” Blair says with a long-suffering sigh as she twines her arms around his neck. “I love you anyway.”

Dan gapes at her, dumbstruck. Blair Waldorf has a singular talent of rendering him speechless. “You’re gonna have to tell me that again when I’m sober.”

She giggles and pulls him in to kiss him again, distillery be damned.

#thank you!!!!!!!#sometimes a girl's just gotta look the s5 finale in the eye and #*sam the onion man voice* i can fix that #dan x blair #blair x dan #dair #*prompts #this is how it happened actually

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plentyoffandoms · 1 year

Text

Everybody's Free (Part 23)

Wardlow x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Wardlow Masterlist ♡ Everybody's Free Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @allelitewrestlings 2nd gif @tearsofasaiyan

Story idea by @lghockey

WC: 1173

Summary: F/Reader is friends with Sammy & everyone in the Inner Circle. She is also a member of his vlog squad. They found out she has a secret boyfriend & they try to figure out who it is.

WARDLOW'S POV:

Being at home these last few weeks has been just what I needed. I needed to be home with my family, to be around YN and the kids.

When they would cry in the middle of the night, I was right there, doing what needed to be done. The first night I was home, YN found me bringing Autumn to my chest as I lifted her out of her crib.

"You know you can sleep, baby," I whispered to YN as I noticed her standing there, watching me.

"As can you. This is your first night at home, relax." She said as she walked towards me. She leaned down and kissed me and then Autumn's head.

But then Austin decided he didn't want to be left out and started to cry. As I fed Autumn, I watched as YN took care of Austin's needs.

Once the two of them finally fell back to sleep, YN and I went back to our bed, falling fast asleep and ready to be woken up by our babies when they finally decide to wake up for the day.

My time off was spent with my extended family as well. My Mom decided to throw a Family Reunion while I was off. YN and I had it at our place as we have the property to hold everyone, and we also figured that if the Twins needed a nap, we could just put them down for a nap.

I caught up with my cousins who I was close with growing up and couldn't come to the wedding due to work, but I kept one eye on YN and the other eye on the Twins.

My sisters had them and were showing them off. "Hey, Mike?"

"Yeah, Andy?" I turned to look at my cousin.

"Remember when we were growing up and you always said that you would never marry, never have any kids."

"Yeah, I remember that."

"What changed?" My other cousins stopped their conversations to listen. These were the ones who were like siblings to me.

"I met her. As you all know, YN was best friends with Sammy, the guy who has been causing us trouble since he found out we got together."

"Yeah." "Yes." "Oh, yeah." Were their responses.

"During our one match, I got a bit too rough with Sammy and YN came to give me a piece of her mind. She told me off and I believe I fell for her right then and there, but then she was gone."

I took a sip of my drink and continued talking.

"Then it was the AEW holiday party and she was there. I followed her around like a lost puppy until it was just the two of us. We agreed to be friends, but that didn't last long."

"But when did you know she was the one? You have dated plenty in the past and then we found out you were serious and thinking of asking her to marry you." Andy told me.

I looked over at my Mom as the conversation I had with her was still very clear in my mind.

"It was near the end of our fourth date. Movies, dinner and a walk on the beach. It was all going perfectly, and then it started to rain. Most people were running away from the beach and I was about to as well, and I looked over at YN and her head was back, her eyes closed and her arms were out. Her hair and makeup were ruined and she never looked more beautiful to me. It was at that moment I knew she was the one. She makes me a better man. After we went our separate ways," I was interrupted by my cousin June.

"You didn't walk her home?"

"Couldn't at the time. We were still keeping it a secret. Anyways, I called my Mom that night and told her I am going to marry YN."

"Who knew Michael Wardlow would turn soft." Another cousin said as he shook his head and took a sip of his beer.

"Can still kick your ass Brandon and don't you forget it."

As soon as everyone was gone and the babies were asleep, we crashed and woke up when we could hear the first cries from just the other room.

After the Family Reunion, YN and I stayed home until we became too cooped up. We decided to do a family day. We went to the park and I must say I looked pretty damn good walking around with both babies strapped to me, one on my chest and the other one on my back.

Fans came up and asked for autographs and a few photos, which I did away from YN, Autumn and Austin.

And as the day was drawing to a close, I posted a photo of the four of us, but as YN was smiling at my phone, I was looking at her, not believing that this is my life now.

SAMMY GUEVARA'S POV:

"So Sammy, I heard you went to the Wardlow's property. Am I correct?" Karla, my therapist asked me.

I wanted to lie. I have lied about everything else when I have been here. Just trying to say what I think she will want to hear so I can be done with this nonsense.

But there was evidence I was there uninvited. Tony showed me the photo of me on the stairs and YN standing a ways back.

"Yes, I did."

"Even though you were asked to stay away from them?"

"Yes." I practically seethe through my teeth.

"Sammy, we must get to the issue here, the main issue and stop saying what you think I want to hear."

My eyebrows raised so high I thought they went into my hair.

"I have been doing this many, many years Sammy. I can tell when someone has been faking it. Now back to the issue at hand. The way how you act with YN and her husband Michael is that you have this obsession to end their relationship. You physically attacked her when she was pregnant. You have gone out of your way to harass Michael when you see him at work."

"Karla, listen this is all a big misunderstanding. I have changed."

"Is that so, well I want you to take a look at these photos." Karla then preceded to show me photo after photo of YN and Michael.

"Enough," I said quietly as I looked away.

"Pardon Sammy?"

"I said enough, Karla. There you happy? Are you happy to see that I am lying so I can keep my job? That I am angry that my best friend stabbed me in the back and left me even though she told me she never would." I was standing on my feet, talking loudly. Not even realising what the hell I am saying.

"I think we have just made a breakthrough. Now sit back down Sammy and start telling the truth."

Part 24 coming soon.

Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @ecarroll1978 @wardlow @anaeve @crowleysqueenofhell @thewrestlingbitch @thenerdybaker523 @melissahausen @brie-mode-activated @louisianalady @daddyslittlevillain @baybay-boom @lilred91 @1dnhhsmk @ladyviperrko @wwenhlimagines @nicoleveno14 @1dluver13xx @alexisquinnlee-bc @legit9thlunaticwarrior

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #wardlow imagine #wardlow x reader #wardlow fic #wardlow fanfic #wardlow fanfiction #wardlow x female reader #wardlow x you #wardlow x y/n #wardlow #mike wardlow #michael wardlow

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luckyshotwrites · 1 year

Text

Ch. 35 // Life Festival Day 2 // Day 23

Contents (Warnings): Alexander has to deal with unpleasantries and Lynette's hoping this day could pass a little faster. (Soft angst, hunger pains, character shenanigans, more character information, and further monster/magic explanations).

Wordcount: 2595

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

(Oct. 8th, Saturday)

Alexander

He was bound. His mouth and forehead had a seal over them. One prevented him from casting vocally, and the other mentally.

He struggled and thrashed in the chair. He couldn't break out of the chains. But he stopped, lifting his head once a gentle caress ran under his chin. It held a familiarness he missed.

He met her gaze innocently. She smiled. He wanted to be angry, but his eyebrows wouldn't furrow; they showed his slight yearning.

She turned around and swayed with her galt. Her black hair was almost like a pendulum, momentarily keeping Alexander's attention. And when it stopped, his eyes locked onto the person on the floor.

The seal held back his yell, and the chains clattered frantically. She ignored him. Her human case broke, and a furl of tails exploded, lashing into the air. One flicked over him, almost blocking his sight until he knocked his chair over. He fell to the ground, still bound and sideways.

His wrists burned, and he felt his anger force out his fangs.

She lifted Lynette's unconscious body, and he watched her lick her chops.

She teased, licking over Lynette, yet she didn't even glance at Alexander. He was forced to see Lynette's body disappear down her throat.

His eyes exploded with a vibrant rage. He pushed his lips apart, and his teeth got enough of the seal to shred it along with his lips.

"MARA!" He shouted.

But it was already too late. By the time Alexander freed himself, Mara had finished off Lynette.

Then, one of her tails whipped into his body. It sent him back.

…

His eyes opened, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was in an immediate panic, slowly settling when he realized it was nothing more than a dream.

It was a fling…barely two weeks. Alexander reasoned. His hand moved over his chest before he looked over at Lynette's bed. Why was she so pissed? It's not like- His throat released a low grumble. She made the stupid bet with me over the journal, not me.

"It wouldn't even matter. Did you think I was too stupid to understand what Mara did?" He whispered.

He traced the blankets. Then his eyes widened. Lynette wasn't there. They were in the shape of a person but too lumpy to be her.

He threw himself from his bed; he stayed on one side of it in case he had to get up fast.

He heard a soft thud.

He looked at the wall near the door and saw Lynette standing there. Her head pressed against the wall. Her hands searched it.

"What the hell are you doing?" He asked.

She didn't respond. She took a few steps back and moved to the left, closer to the door. Her hand made a gesture like she was reaching for the knob, but she wasn't at the door, so she bumped into the wall again.

He walked over and realized she was sleepwalking. Drake mentioned her doing that, didn't he? Alexander thought. He wanted to lighten his mood and watch her bumble around, but she was getting awfully close to the door. He'd imagine if she could open one, she would open the front door too and escape.

He sighed, "get back into bed."

He tried to direct her back to bed.

"I'll make breakfast," she muttered, "Wicks."

Alexander shook his head.

I have to get her into bed and block the door. Alexander said in his head. He grabbed her by her waist, hoisting her up, and realized his mistake. He only lifted up Lynette when he intended to eat her, so the urge lurched inside him.

…

Lynette

I wasn't in bed. I was face to face with Alexander. My feet wiggled about, unable to touch the ground. I cried out in a panic.

I threw my hands up, pushed at him, and accidentally punched him. It felt hard and hurt my hand.

He immediately let go.

I dropped onto the ground. I couldn't catch myself and banged my head on the wall behind me.

He clutched his abdomen. I didn't hit him there.

"What were you doing to me!"

I felt relieved he was at his average height, at least.

"You were sleepwalking." He gasped between raspy breaths. "And-I was-trying to get you back to bed."

I used the wall to get up. I was far from my bed. Alexander wouldn't go through the effort to lie to me like this. He was usually very straightforward.

"I should have said something," I muttered, "it happens when I'm stressed or sleep in an unfamiliar place." My head tilted down. "so, I'm sorry I hit you."

He didn't speak. He turned his body away from me. "Just go to bed."

I looked up. My eyes traced up his bare back, stunned. Did he always have that giant gash? I asked myself. His arms were crossed and hunched over slightly, accentuating the old wound. Even in the dark, I could make it out so well. Have I never seen his back before? Does it hurt?

"LYNETTE."

I jumped at the growl in his voice. I threw myself into bed and under the covers.

"I'm in bed!" I squeaked back.

Alexander stood there for a bit longer before I heard him grunt. I watched him pick up one of the giant chairs and drop it in front of the door.

I hid most of myself in the blanket, leaving a tiny hole so I could peek out. Afterward, Alexander paced around. Then he marched passed my bed and slammed the door to the bathroom. I heard it lock, followed by the shower a few minutes later.

I reached out for my phone, aiming it at my face. The sun erupted from it. I grumbled, squinting intensely to see the time. It was two in the morning.

They have magic to rewind and heal wounds, right? So why is he injured like that? I asked. I put my phone back and inched out further. I grabbed the bottle of melatonin gummies I had on the nightstand. I took two and rested back, and closed my eyes. I squirmed under the covers. I still hated the weight but felt vulnerable without it.

I squeezed my eyes together tighter. I was so frustrated that I forgot the scenario I was in when I saw his wound.

…

Alexander

His alarm blared near his ear. He groggily lifted up his phone, seeing the time.

He hadn't been able to sleep even after his shower. He focused on Lynette and her scent since then.

He forced himself to sit up, staring down into the covers as his stomach growled. He looked at Lynette.

She finished her shower, and her wet red hair draped over her uniform. The light from the outside peeked through the slits of the curtains. It let in more light than he liked.

She peered back from the full-body mirror, "see-!" She exclaimed.

He didn't know what she was talking about at first, then he threw himself back down after he realized it. "Shut up, pipsqueak."

He was too tired to argue with her.

At least I have a reason to stare at you. What's your reason for staring at me, huh? You're not sizing me up to eat. He thought to himself. He threw his arm over his face and the other over his abdomen as it panged with hunger.

He heard the buzzes in his ear again, and he picked up his phone from beside his pillow.

A message from Edgar in the main group chat reminded the night crew they were starting at 9:30 a.m. today. And below it, another conversation started.

June: Anyone up to get breakfast? 🍳 7:02 a.m.

Zane: LET'S GO! I'll wake Zilla up! 7:03 a.m.

Viola: Sure. 7:03 a.m.

Claudia: Beatrice can't make it. She's taking waaaay too long in the shower.🤿🏊‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Tila: 🏄‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Drake: 🚣‍♀️ 7:04 a.m.

Drake: Lev and I are going. 7:05 a.m.

Bea: I'm not doing water aerobics! BEAUTY TAKES TIME. 7:06 a.m.

Alexander didn't have to look up. He felt Lynette moving around the room. She sat back on her bed, chuckling. He figured she was looking at the messages too.

He couldn't look at her at this point. He almost wanted to beg for just a taste. It started to consume his thoughts. He texted in the chat.

Alexander: I gotta get ready. 7:07 a.m.

He grabbed his backpack and went across the room to the bathroom. Alexander heard a few more buzzes as he got into the bathroom. He shut the door with his back on it.

Lynette: Where were you guys gonna go to eat? 7:07 a.m.

June: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 7:08 a.m.

Alexander moved over to the shorter counter. He looked up at the mirror as he gripped the counter. One more day.

…

Lynette

Should I wait for him? I asked myself, as everyone decided on the giver tent, except for Drake, Claudia, June, and me.

We still decided to meet up in the lobby.

I shook my head. It shouldn't be a question at this point. I should stick with him to avoid a repeat of yesterday.

My phone rang, and I answered it, thinking it was Wicks. I was wrong.

"Hey, Lynette~."

I wanted to hang up, "yes, Lev?"

He hummed, "isn't there a human kids' story about a big bad wolf knocking on a door of a pig?"

I heard knocking on the door after he asked. "The three pigs, yes...but the wolf is defeated at the end." I retorted, walking to the door. I peered through the eyehole.

I could hear his chuckle from behind it. "Really? Are there any tales about dragons?"

"Most stories about dragons also end up with them defeated," I said as I opened the door.

Lev hung up the phone once he saw me, "next, you're going to tell me an ordinary human defeats us." He eyed me.

"A knight generally, yes." I saw Drake was on the phone a little further down the hall. "Why are you interested in kids' stories?"

He smirked, "Tila bragged about fairies among different media." He leaned in, "do you think of yourself as a knight, Lynette?"

The sudden question at the end threw me off. "I'm not going to fight anyone."

Lev chuckled, "I don't know about that. You fight me pretty hard when I.~" He went to do a teasing swallow.

But Alexander's voice came between both of us.

"Let's get going."

I stumbled out, knowing I had my phone wallet and didn't need anything else.

Drake got off his phone call. We passed him in the hall.

"Morning, Drake."

My eyes went over him quickly, slumped heavily. "Morning."

We called the elevator, it dinged, and I got inside with them. Alexander stood the farthest away from me and pointed at Drake.

"What happened to you? You look awful."

"I'm fine-" Drake mumbled, glancing over his shoulder, "you look awful too."

Alexander smiled, "fuck off."

Lev looked at his phone. I could see he looked to be reading something, thanks to the mirror panels of the elevator. I never thought about it, but they can all read English, right? Drake and Alexander, I think, make sense, but everyone else...is it some type of magic? Their conversation seemed like constant jabbing, but as soon as the elevator dinged again. I tuned in again.

Drake pushed his hat down, ensuring his hair covered his eyes. He didn't stuff his hair into his hat as usual. "I'll get some gator blood or something when I go out."

" Will you be able to watch her? Because I don't trust Claudia, and June's too-ditzy." Alexander said.

"Yeah," Drake's faced me before we left.

Lev smiled, "why don't you take her along with us?"

"No!" Alexander and I both said in unison. Though mine was more of an exclamation and his stern.

"I don't want to be around you all when you do your gross things…." Then the bet with Claudia popped into my head. I whimpered. I might need to go to figure them all out.

Lev looked amused, "what's the matter?"

"You're the last person I'd tell," I said right before we got to the group.

"Morning, guys," I said to everyone. We were awaiting Claudia and Beatrice.

…

I wanted to go to the Sweet House, but it was closed. Many of our options were limited, given that it was so early in the morning.

We stopped at the beverage shop I recognized yesterday.

He tipped his hat to me, "ah, the little miss. How was your clearest yesterday?"

I was surprised he remembered me. "Oh-uh-" I nervously chuckled, "uh, there was an accident, and I dropped and broke the bottle before I tasted it."

He gasped out, and one of his many slender arms reached behind him for the fridge, "you should have told me. Let me get you another!"

Claudia and June leaned over the counter, reading the menu above. He got me a bottle out of the fridge behind him.

"Do you have any animal blood?" Drake asked.

The vendor leaned over after he passed me my drink, "unfortunately not, but I could find you the nearest giver and-"

Drake held a hand up. "I'll have what she did."

He smiled, "coming right up!"

June gestured to the oversized menu item, "Oh, a jumbo mega BLAST!"

I looked at the menu too. Claudia and June looked set on that. It had nearly every boost I saw available in it. I pointed it out to Drake.

"Do you want that?"

Drake nodded, "maybe I should." He ordered one for himself.

The vendor looked more than happy to grab the larger bottles from the giant refrigerator.

There was another monster behind us. I tried to make it quick. "Is that drink safe for humans?" I asked.

He smiled, "I can make you a special one because I imagine it'll make you crazy."

I started to regret asking for a lighter version. I popped open my water bottle as we waited. It was a flick mechanism with a cork. The water felt so refreshing after such a rough night. I was relieved that we were going home tonight.

After I got my drink, June made a cheer clink gesture with Claudia, Claudia passed it to Drake, and he handed it to me. I joined in.

"Hey, Drake, why is your energy so low?" June asked him, popping his glasses up. It showed the light blue sockets.

Drake put the bottle to his lips and whistled over it. "I ran out of animal blood last night. I'll get more later."

Claudia pointed in the direction of the others after she took a swig of her drink. "You should have gone with them and got a giver!" She poked him with her elbow, "Lev's your roommate. You could have convinced him for a free one since he has the credit for twenty."

Drake chuckled, "yeah, right..." He took another drink of the Jumbo Mega Blast.

I finished my water. I glanced over at Drake. Maybe I can offer to help him in some way? If it's the same way Alexander explained he could do it before, that's okay. "You can take my energy if you need it."

June didn't react, but Claudia's gasp and Drake's spit take made me realize I didn't elaborate well enough.

…

Thank you for reading! :D Have a gouda day! (Nonnegotiable, if you're lactose intolerant, you're about to be in a lot of pain, sorry, not sorry. Lol).

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Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below ↓ ↓ ↓

What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

#vore story #vore writing #soft vore writing #soft vore #widfali #v.0re #v.ore #v/0re #v/ore #vore ocs #vore pains

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the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

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A Captivating Scene

Kinktober Day 23: Mixophilia (sexual arousal from oneself or one’s partner engaged in sexual activity, typically through a mirror or on film)

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!reader

Words: ~800

Summary: Colin convinces you to watch your sex tape.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, dirty talk, filmed sex), no plot, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: Just a little quick and dirty one for our favorite slutty neighbor 😉

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

“C’mon baby, I bet we look fucking hot.”

“Of course we look hot, unlike you I don’t need a fucking reminder.” You moaned when Colin started sucking on your neck, letting him press you further into the couch as his hands roamed over your body.

“But why’d we make the tape if we’re not gonna watch it?” He nipped at your ear before bringing his face to yours, pouting slightly and giving you his puppy eyes until you laughed softly.

“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” You growled playfully when he shook his head then let you bite at his lips, swallowing his heady sigh while he rolled his body into yours. “Fine, put it on.”

He gave you a pleased grin before grabbing the remote and turning the tv on, setting up screen share with his phone before pulling up the video you two had made a few weeks ago. You rolled your eyes when it came up on the screen, opting to watch Colin instead as he sat up over you and ran his tongue over his lips.

“Jesus, just look at you.” He purred when he curled over you again, keeping his eyes on the screen as he licked at your throat. “That tight little pussy always swallows me up so good.”

“God, I still can’t believe that’s the position you wanted to go with.” You turned your head and watched the screen as he started peppering kisses over your chest, biting your lip at the sight of you spread wide over Colin’s lap as he drove his cock into you with deep, smooth thrusts. “We do look good, though.”

“Yeah we do.” He teased his fingers under your shorts as he nuzzled at your throat, smiling when you gave him a small whine. “Need to feel you.”

“Do it.” You pushed your hips up so he could slide your shorts off, moving your own hands to push his sweats down his thighs until you felt his leaking cock smack against your hip. “Split me open, Col, I need it.”

Colin pressed his lips to your collarbone as he slid inside you, humming when he felt your throat vibrate under his lips as you whined when he buried himself to the hilt in your wet heat. You wound your fingers in his hair as he started rocking his hips into you slowly, his head tucked under your chin as he kept facing the screen.

The rhythm of his hips matched the way you two were fucking on the screen, your soft sounds mixing with the ones on the video perfectly as he started thrusting faster. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and held you close as he could, groaning when you started clenching around him each time his hips met yours.

“That’s fucking it, could watch you take me all fucking day.” He growled when the you on the screen let out a desperate wail, her body shivering with bliss as she came all over Colin’s thick cock. “Give it to me, c’mon.”

You couldn’t deny that there was something heady about watching Colin fuck you while he was fucking you, your eyes glued to the screen as the woman there moaned with ecstasy, her body writhing as Colin’s hands dug into her tits while he mouthed at the curve of her neck. It was intense, your body so turned on just from watching yourself that it took almost nothing for Colin to pull it out of you. He purred into your neck when you fluttered around him with a soft whine, your cunt leaking slick all over him as he fucked you through it.

“Colin.” You were choking on your own pleasure as he started slamming into you, your fingers digging into his shoulders while he nipped at your throat. “Please, I need it.”

“I know, baby.” He shoved a hand between the two of you to tease your clit, his breath fanning warmth over your neck as he panted against your skin. “Just give me one more.”

Your body bowed off the couch when you came again, your pleasure matched by the screams coming from the you on the screen. Colin pressed his lips to yours and swallowed your cries with a deep groan as his hips started to falter, his thick cum spurting against your swollen walls as he sank into you.

“God, Colin.” You laughed lightly when he started pressing kisses all over your face, wrapping your body around his and sighing as you came down. “We should film ourselves more often. What do you think about some 69-ing?”

#natalie writes #colin shea #kinktober 2021 #colin shea smut #colin shea x y/n #colin shea x you #colin shea x fem!reader #colin shea x reader #chris evans #chris evans smut #chris evans character #natalie’s nasty kinktober #smut #eighteen and over #eighteen plus #do not interact if you are a minor

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

Text

You Did This To Us - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: ANGST, cursing, gore, implied sexual activity, infidelity, alcohol abuse, marijuana use, I’m just here to rip y’all hearts out, MDNI

Summary: It was a horrible battle against raging villains and he watched you, his loving wife of 6 years, get pierced right in front of him. It was traumatizing. Your days in the hospital sent him into depression, causing him to make the worst decisions of his life. Decisions he’s regretted the second he’s made them and decisions he’ll forever regret because of what it cost him.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

He warned you not to come. No that’s not the right word. He begged you to sit your ass down at home where you would be safe. But of course, you were never that kind of hero. You could never sit on the sidelines and watch others fight a battle you knew you could at least try to help in. So with a heavy heart, he reluctantly allowed you to come. His first regret.

Because as the battle died down and victory was in sight, his world was thrown into chaos once more. The villains were down. The wind was settling. The dust was clearing. Katsuki could see you struggling to stand due to exhaustion but saw your smile nonetheless. He gave a breath of relief as he still saw you and jogged over to you. As he did, you noticed him coming your way and your smile only grew. Until it suddenly dropped, along with his own. Out of nowhere, a sharp, metal staff flew threw the air and pierced you right in the stomach. The sight was nauseating as Katsuki covered his mouth, truly shocked. He watched you in horror as you trembled before falling to the ground.

Katsuki looked behind him to find the attacker and saw some stupid, weak ass, good for nothing villain use the last of his power just to cause you harm. Then the world began to shake. No, that wasn’t it. Katsuki was violently trembling as he looked towards the bastard on the ground. Despite him being knocked out cold, that didn’t stop Dynamight from rushing over to him, grabbing him by the neck and blasting him. No one was around. No one would see. His job was safe. He could do this and have no repercussions whatsoever, so why not?

After the petty villain’s death, Katsuk used every ounce of strength in him to run to your body that had blood trickling down the side of your lips. “Y/N!”

You turned your head the best you could to find your husband sobbing his eyes out as he picked you up into his lap. He cradled your head and gently tapped your face, trying to keep you conscious. “Hey! Hey, you’re gonna be okay, alright?! You’re gonna be okay baby I promise.”

“Suki..I’m tired.” You whispered out in a weak voice. Hearing your words stabbed him through the chest.

“I-..I know baby. I know you’re tired. But- but you can’t go to sleep okay? Don’t go to sleep. You have to stay awake- stay alive! Okay?” He pleaded with you. He called out for a medic once he saw the flashing red and blue lights near the scene and held onto your body. He looked to you and saw your eyes becoming null and dense before firing back up again. You were falling in and out of consciousness. You were a fighter and you were trying to stay alive. It made him choke out a sad laugh. “You’re gonna make it, Teddy Bear, I swear.”

“….if I don’t make it-“

“You will, you idiot, don’t say shit like that!”

“But if I don’t…just- Ah-….just know I love you, Suki.”

Katsuki kissed your forehead before hugging you close. “I know, Y/N. I love you too. More than anyone, and more than you’ll ever fucking know.”

He noticed a small smile reach your lips before the medics came. Katsuki was quick to stand with you in his arms, careful and aware of the metal still pierced within you. He handed you off to the professionals who handled you with extra care. They brought you into the ambulance with Katsuki trying to follow in before being stopped.

“The fuck-“

“Dynamight, we can’t allow you to go in.” One said.

“And why the fuck not?! That’s my wife in there!” Katsuki shouted as he pointed to you.

“I understand, but her condition is severe. We can’t have anyone taking up space as we take care of her on her way to the hospital.” He explained.

“Taking up space?! Do you even know who you’re-“

“Sir, please. Let me do my job, let me save your wife’s life.” With that, Katsuki finally nodded in silence as he allowed the medic’s words to echo in his head. “Can you meet us at the hospital?”

Once again, a silent nod. With that, the medic was off and back to your seemingly lifeless body. Katsuki watched as he lead the team and perfectly directed them. He was sure that until you got to the hospital, you were in good hands. That was one guy he could surprisingly trust. He didn’t know him very well or at all for that matter, but he has Dynamight’s trust. Now Katsuki just had to head home and clean himself up before finding you again. Screw getting checked up. He knew his body. He knew he was damn well fucking fine.

—

As Katsuki opened the door to his house in a rush, he was quick to take a shower just to wash off the dirt and blood. He quickly hopped out and changed into some clothes before looking for his car keys. He found them at his nightstand along with the framed pictures of you and him. One on your wedding night and one celebrating your 3rd anniversary as a married couple. As Katsuki quickly looked through he pictures he smiled with a tear falling down his cheek. He looked around the room and took in all the pictures of you both that decorated your walls and tables.

You both were together since junior high. You were together for 10 years and despite being at the young ages of 23 and 22, he still decided to pop the big questions and propose. You said yes. It was one of the happiest days of his life, next to getting you to be his girlfriend, and meeting you in general. Forget the hero work, he’d trade it all if it meant he got to stay with you. You were always involved when it came to his happiest points in life. And now you were fighting for your life at the hospital. So with that, Bakugou wiped his tears and ran to his car, urgently trying to meet you at the building.

As he pulled up and parked, he pushed passed all the paparazzi and fans that surrounded the entrance due to news of you being there. You can assume how bad it got when everyone took notice of another pro-hero, and that pro being Dynamight no less, showing up. Despite all that, Bakugou forced his way in and made it to the front desk, demanding to know where you were. The poor lady at the desk had to deal with this explosive bomb, only to anger him even more by asking for his ID.

“Are you a fucking idiot?! Look at me! I’m Bakugou fucking Katsuki?! The number one pro fucking hero?!” He screamed at the poor girl.

“I’m- I’m sorry sir! It’s just protocol. H/N is a pro-hero, this is just what has to be done.” She shakily let out. Bakugou grunted before slamming his ID and Hero license onto the table. The lady nodded before handing him a piece of paper that had directions to your room.

Bakugou snatched it and gave her a scowl before running to look for you. Finally making it to one of the highest floors and down the longest hallways, he finally reached your door with 2 doctors already standing out in front of it. Bakugou tried to get through but they stopped him from entering.

“What?! What fucking now?!” He shouted as he stepped back to keep their hands off of him.

“Sir, they’re taking care of your wife just fine, but you have to wait here.” One of the docs demanded. With that, an argument bursted out between the pro and the doctors. The booming voices shook the building until a familiar voice was heard from behind the blonde.

“Dynamight, your wife’s in good care. I made sure my own wife was to be her head doctor.” Bakugou turned around to find the medic that stopped him from going into your ambulance there.

“It’s you.” He spoke aloud. The medic smiled before bowing.

“Daisuke Ena,” the medic said before standing back up straight. “Please trust me when I say your wife will be fine.”

“…and why should I?” Bakugou said after thinking for a minute.

“My wife is the one taking care of her. She is one of the best, if not the best, doctor in the prefecture. That’s not a biased opinion by the way, you can look her up. Daisuke Ami. I ensured it was her who was to see to your wife.” Daisuke said with a calm smile. After looking towards your hospital room, Katsuki turned back to the medic and nodded silently like he did before. But this time, he added a small ‘thank you.’

—

6 hours. Katsuki sat in one of the seats in front of your hospital room for 6 fucking hours only for them to tell him they cannot allow you visitors. You were in an unstable condition and so they sent Katsuki home. The news was heart wrenching. You always ran through Katsuki’s mind 24/7. He couldn’t stop it. But now, these thoughts were no longer happy and innocent, consisting of ‘damn, I miss her,’ and ‘I wonder what my girl’s doing right now.’ Instead they consisted of ‘Is she gonna be okay,’ and ‘she’s gonna come home, right?’ but most of all ‘I can’t lose her.’

Luckily for Katsuki, he became familiar with medical staff, Daisuke Ena, and was lucky enough to get his number. Daisuke gave him updates on Y/N. Usually, they weren’t so great but the hero appreciated the messages. The text didn’t help in uplifting Katsuki’s spirits though. If anything, they made them worse. In the beginning, Katsuki had hope that you would turn out okay.

But then a week passed.

And then another.

And then two more and before he knew it, you had already been in there for a month. This was the longest month of Katsuki’s life. It sucks to say but in the 13 years that you both have been together, he’s hasn’t done much alone outside of hero work. And even then, he would be lucky enough to work with you. It was always you and him together. Dates? Duh. Grocery shopping? Always you and him. Going for a walk? Why not? He loves spending as much time as he could with you. He loves you. But he hadn’t realize how dependent he became on your presence. In a way, you being gone drove him mad. He knew where you were. You were in the hospital. He could drive her there and see you right now!

No he can’t.

Because he would go and you would be stuck in bed, unconscious and hooked to machines, in a room, behind a door that Katsuki can’t get by. Seeing you isn’t the same as holding you. Speaking to you isn’t the same as conversing with you. There’s no reciprocation from your end. Being around your near lifeless body could only do so much. And so after two more weeks without you went by, Katsuki fell into a depression.

And that sucks because a few days after Katsuki’s depression began, it was okay for him to see you. But you hadn’t woken up yet. He didn’t think he would be able to be near you and your practically dead body. The fact that you were alive didn’t stick to him. He can’t see your beautiful E/C eyes, he can’t hear your honey-like voice..there’s no way you’re alive. The back of his mind still had hope. He knew you were stable. He knew you were gonna be okay..hopefully..but, you weren’t waking up. You were basically dead. Dead, dead, dead. And the more he thought about it, the more realistic the idea came to be.

So he didn’t visit you anymore..something else he’ll come to regret, and because he didn’t visit, he grew mad. Throwing away his life and succumbing to the tempting taste of alcohol. Any he could get. From the cheapest beers in cans to the finest liquors sold from top shelf. In the beginning, it was..controlled, but then he showed up to hero work completely wasted. Kirishima saved his job and forced Katsuki to take a break until he becomes stable again. This only gave Katsuki free time to do whatever the hell he wanted. And what did he want to do? He wanted to become lost.

Lost in alcohol, lost in weed, lost in everything. Lost because he doesn��t have you. Everyday he would spend it drinking and smoking, constantly being cross faded and surprising all his friends when he remained alive after all the substance abuse. Wake up, drink, get ready, drink, sit in the living room, smoke, cry over you, smoke and drink, eat and drink, go to sleep after a smoke sesh, cry over you once more. Eventually, Katsuki had cried so much, the only thing keeping him together was the fact that he had all these pictures of the two of you. Pictures of your smiles, you giving him a kiss, your dates, your accomplishments..he has all these pictures..but none of them would ever be as good as the real you.

Seeing his friend going down this road, Kirishima couldn’t help but try to do everything he could to fix his friend. No matter how many times Katsuki pushed him away, the red head kept going back. And none of his attempts to help his friend worked. Until…

—

“What now, Shitty Hair?” Bakugou groaned as he opened his door and squinted at the bright day light. He doesn’t remember that last time he’s seen the sun.

“I know you’ve been in a slump-“

“Slump? That’s what you call this? I lost the love of my life, Kirishima. This isn’t a fucking slump.” Bakugou said a little louder this time.

“She’s not gone, Bakugou.” Kirishima said trying to reassure his friend.

“But she’s not here either,” the blonde said as he chewed on his lip. “…look, whatever it is you want from me, I can’t give you. Not until Y/N is back at home, here, with me, safe and alive.”

“I know you feel that way man, but you can’t keep living like this. It’s not good for you. You at least need to get out of your house.” Kirishima said with his hand on the door as Bakugou tried to shut it. The blonde narrowed his eyes at his best friend before Kirishima spoke up again. “We can go wherever you wanna go and do whatever you wanna do, you just gotta get out of this house. Please.”

As Katsuki thought about it, he took a deep sigh before speaking. “Tonight at Hiro’s?”

“Dude, you wanna go to a bar-“

“It’s a club. Better than a bar, better drinks.” Bakugou corrected.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hit the gym or maybe go to an actual restaurant or something?” Kirishima said, trying to steer his friend clear of alcohol.

“If you want me out of my house, then we go where I wanna go. No exceptions.” Bakugou said with a stern voice. Kirishima thought about it and sighed before giving in.

“Fine. But first, you gotta clean yourself up.” The red head said. The blonde nodded before going to shut his door, only to be interrupted by his friend once again. “With a little help from your best buds.”

As Kiri pushed the door open even more, Kaminari and Sero showed their faces that held kind smiles that only made Katsuki seethe. “No fucking way. This isn’t some girl’s trip and we aren’t doing makeovers.”

“Nobody said anything about a makeover, we’re just gonna help clean ya’ up Kacchan!” Denki smiled.

“I’m a grown man, I don’t need help cleaning up.” Bakugou said with a growl.

“Tell that to your stubble, messy hair, eye bags, and stench.” Sero began. “Seriously man, you smell like liquor and weed. You’re lucky you got that caramel thing going on to save you…barely.”

Before he knew it, his friends had pushed him into his house and quickly directed him to the bathroom. They did a full treatment. Forced him into the shower and made him soak in a tub of scented soaps and bath additions as they cleaned his house. Once they were done they had picked out a clean outfit for him before working on his face. They shaved his stubble, cleaned up his cut, put some eye cream on his bags, gave him some breath spray and changed out a few of his piercings. The full treatment. And when they showed Bakugou the new old him, he couldn’t deny he felt a little better. At least, before they stepped into his room again and he saw a few pictures of you. That’s when the slump in his shoulder returned.

Seeing this, his friends were quick to take him out of the house and head to Hiro’s. Walking in, they sat at the bar, ordered some food and a few drinks, and did whatever they could to keep Bakugou’s mind off of you. And for most of the night, it worked! Bakugou was laughing again, smiling, being his old self. But that’s when Denki decided to risk it.

“We doing shots or what?” The electric blonde asked. Kirishima gave him a look as he spoke.

“Uh, let’s go light on the liquor tonight. We don’t need shots to have a good time, right?” Kirishima said. Bakugou looked at him and chuckled.

“It’s nice of you to look out for me, Shitty hair, but I got this. Trust me.” Bakugou said with a small smile.

“I don’t know, man.” Kirishima said with a pout.

“Don’t be a pussy, Kirishima.” Kaminari smirked. That’s when all of Kiri’s friends, even Bakugou, began to egg him on. Of course, he gave in. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen? Bakugou gets drunk? He’s already been drunk before, nothing too crazy could happen, right?

Wrong. Shots were being downed and the 4 friends were losing themselves. The music was blasting, the lights were blinding, and the friends were…everywhere! Kirishima was probably puking his guts out in the bathroom, Sero and Kaminari were drunk on the dance floor, leaving Bakugou drunk at the bar by himself. Bad idea. The poor blonde was looking at his phone going through pictures of you and him together. He already missed you like crazy when he was sober, now that he’s drunk, that missing has hit full throttle. And then he caught the eye of a snake.

She walked up to the pro-hero with full confidence as she took a seat next to him. “Dynamight.”

Bakugou looked up from his phone with a scowl and blush from the alcohol. “Do I fucking know you?”

“No but-“

“Then get lost.” He said and downed another sip of his whiskey. The woman smirked at his crude behavior.

“Feisty. I like that about you, you know. Always playing hard to get.” She said with a seductive tone.

“I’m not playing hard to get, I’m playing impossible to get because I’m married,” he said and showed his wedding ring. “Happily.”

“You don’t seem too happy right now mister hero. My name’s Leiko..and if you want..I could help take away your troubles.” She offered with a smile as she leaned forward, making sure to expose a little more cleavage than necessary.

“My wife is better than just some quick fuck, so no thanks.” Bakugou said, still not taking his eyes off her, trying to scare her away with a glare that unfortunately she only smirked at.

“Who said I was trying to fuck? Why don’t you talk to me? Vent. Rant. It won’t get your mind off of your wife but it will help clear your head.” She said.

“And why the hell do you think I’m having issues with my wife?!” He asked with a tense voice.

“I walked over here and you were staring down at pictures of her on your phone. Miss H/N is beautiful. You’re a very lucky man.” Leiko said, playing the role of a snake perfectly.

“…I am..” Bakugou agreed before swallowing a gulp. “I’m Uh…I’m not having issues with her or anything. And we’re not fighting either. She’s just..been in the hospital recovering from a battle..I just miss her…”

He didn’t know whether it was the alcohol or if Leiko was just that good at pretending to be nice or both, but for whatever reason she made it easy to clear his mind. She listened well, never putting any input in. She let him speak freely and only spoke up when he looked at her in expectance to. In the moment..she was being a good friend. She allowed him to vent all he wanted about you, about how much he missed you and loves you. And by the end of the night, Katsuki could feel his chest feel a little lighter.

They didn’t sleep together but Leiko left an impression on his drunk self for sure. Maybe even him as a person. He’d remember her as ‘that one nice lady from the club.’ But that was until a few days later when she reached out to him on social media. Leiko was a perfect snake. Knowing exactly what she wanted and exactly how to get it. They spoke for some time online, casual conversations. Most times, it was Leiko asking about you and if you were okay. This went on for some time until their conversations changed. Leiko casually threw in a little flirt every now and then, Katsuki saw and held no reply for it, but didn’t stop her from doing so. Leiko seemed like a good friend. A good way to air out his emotions and issues. So despite her pushy and flirtatious nature, he kept her around. Solely as a friend.

Soon enough, Leiko offered to meet in person once more. At the same club they first met in. ‘Why not?’ Katsuki thought. He had nothing else to do. And so he went. Then he went again. And again. And again. The two became ‘friends’ and Katsuki even brought her back into your shared home where they shared even more drinks. Eventually, the use of marijuana came into play and now the two were cross faded. At least one of them was. Leiko was smart and sneaky. She took less drinks, didn’t inhale the smoke, and basically remained sober. She was in complete control, unlike the blonde hero who sat on the couch beside her. He was now upset and hurt as he thought about you.

“I-..I just miss her so damn much..it fucking hurts at this point.” He said with a whimper in his voice. Being so vulnerable, Leiko took her chance and slid in.

“Well..there’s always one way to take your mind off of harsh things like this.” She softly said with a hand in his lap. She leaned in and Bakugou made no move to stop her and allowed her to continue. She pressed his lips against his and despite it not being reciprocated the first time, she still pushed with it. Katsuki didn’t enjoy it all that much or at all. It was different, it was new, it wasn’t you. It didn’t feel like home. Her lips weren’t soft, they weren’t as plump, they didn’t have the same sweet and addicting taste you did but in a way..Katsuki felt it was what he needed. Her kiss wasn’t like yours. In fact, it was the complete opposite and he hated it. But it didn’t resemble you. When Leiko kissed him, it didn’t remind him of you, and that’s what he thought he needed. So despite not liking the kiss, when she pulled away, he pulled her back. Eventually the kiss grew more intense until it was brought to the bedroom where their night continued in a more sinful manner.

That morning, Katsuki made Leiko leave, angered at what she tricked him into and ashamed of his betrayal. How could he do that to you?! His love of over a decade! When Leiko was gone, Katsuki allowed himself to break down his walls and cry. He cried so hard that morning, more than he’s ever cried before. That morning made him realize his third regret.

Leiko and Katsuki never spoke again..until some days later when Katsuki allowed himself to become extremely drunk once more. He fell into his obsessive thoughts of you and felt the pain come again. Wanting to erase the hurt, he reached out to Leiko and asked her to come over and distract him again. He needed to feel something that wasn’t you. And so Leiko happily went over that night. And a few more nights because Katsuki felt the pain again for a few more nights. As Leiko kept going, she noticed the house loss more and more touches of you. Katsuki flipped his pictures of you in his bedroom so that they wouldn’t see his nights of betrayal and he moved his clothes out of your shared closet so he wouldn’t be reminded and hit with your addicting scent that lingered on your clothes. Leiko smiled, feeling like a victor as Katsuki slept beside her in your bed on your side. The two would have quite a surprise in the morning.

—

Katsuki was awake and was still feeling the shame. He didn’t like sleeping around with Leiko but he liked the way it distracted him from his painful thoughts of you. Every morning after a night spent with her was the same. The two would wake up, she would put on one of his shirts despite his protests and get ready in his bathroom as he sat in the living room downstairs. But this morning had a little surprise twist.

As Katsuki sat in the living room with his head down, the doorbell rung. Growling in annoyance at one of his friends’ presence, he reluctantly went to open the door with a sour mood. “WHAT?!”

“Umm, excuse me. Who the fuck do you think you are talking to your wife like that?” You asked with attitude. As Katsuki adjusted his eyes to the light and his ears caught the sound of his favorite song, his eyes widened and his smile rose.

“Y-Y/N?” He asked in complete shock. He saw you alive, healthy, smiling, looking naturally beautiful right in front of him.

“Missed me, Suki?” You asked with a giggle. Bakugou pushed the door open to pull you in for the tightest hug as he lifted you off the ground.

“YOU’RE BACK!” He cried out. He held you tight and shut the door with his foot as he dropped onto the couch with you on top of him. He held you close to him as he cried into your neck. “You’re really back! Fuck- I missed you so much Y/N! I fucking love you- I’ve been a mess without you..shit!”

His tears were everlasting as they fell from his ruby eyes that you missed so much. You smiled as you wiped them away with your thumbs and the soft touch he’s craved and missed so much. You pecked his nose to calm him down as you allowed your hands to get lost in his blonde hair. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m here, Suki. I’m back.”

Katsuki still held tears in his eyes and was shaking in happiness as you remained oh so close, giving him the warmth he needed after so many months. “Tell me you love me, Y/N.”

“I love you Bakugou Katsuki.” You happily said. Your husband teared up once more, so happy he was able to hear those words from you again, before pulling you in for a passionate kiss. A kiss that brought him back to life. He took in your scent and the way you tasted illegally sweet. He let his hands roam your body in a loving way until they found way into your soft H/C locks, trying to bring your head closer to his despite your lips already being in contact. You pulled away with him chasing after your lips, needing to push him back a little to allow yourself to breath. “Relax Suki.”

He scoffed at that. “Relax? I just got you back, you’re not calling the shots today princess, that’s all me.”

You both have a little laugh as you tucked in to cuddle for a small time. He missed this. This is what he needed. This is what he’s been dying for. To have you back in his arms, alive, healthy, and present. He needed this for so long and now that he has it, he feels whole again. After spending some cuddle minutes on the couch, you rose up in need for a glass of water. As you tried to walk away, Katsuki tugged on your arm to try and bring you back to him, only to have you calm him down. “I’m just getting some water, Suki.”

He reluctantly let you go, allowing himself to smile like an idiot, glad to be around you again. As you searched for a glass in the cabin, that’s when Bakugou detected the sound of someone turning the shower off. And that’s when his eyes popped. His betrayal to you. The multiple times he betrayed your love and literal proof of it standing in his shared home with you. That’s when he began to silently panic. You were gonna find out. You were gonna find out he had been acting like a sleeze behind your back and you were gonna be pissed. Heartbroken. Downright furious and you had every right to be, but Katsuki wouldn’t allow it. He knew once you found out, you would leave again. But you can’t leave! He just got you back! You’re not allowed to leave when you finally came back to him. He’s finally happy again because you’re back! You can’t leave now!

“Hey, Baby, don’t you wanna see your friends?” Katsuki asked as he walked over to you. You had finished your glass and placed it down on the island when your husband came over asking an absurd question.

“Suki, they were all there when I left the hospital. They were the ones who bought me these new clothes. Aren’t they cute?” You asked with the smile he loved oh so much.

“Uh- yeah, yeah they look amazing on you Teddy Bear. Umm..if they were all with you, why didn’t they tell me you were coming back home?” He asked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and his went right to home on your waist.

“I wanted to surprise you!” You giggled. “How’d I do?”

“Really fucking good, you little dumbass. But why don’t we get some fresh air? Yeah?” He said as he tried pulling you to the door.

“What why? I was just out there.” You said as you stopped in your tracks. “Besides, I heard you didn’t visit me much in the hospital ya’ big meanie. I wanna spend as much time with you as I can.”

“I was gone because I couldn’t stand to see you like that, baby.” He said with a whimper.

“Yeah I figured. Which is why I’m not too mad, but you still gotta make it up to me with cuddles, so let’s go!” You said and tried pulling him in the direction of your bedroom but he planted his feet into the ground.

“We can still spend time together outside the house, Teddy Bear,” Katsuki said enthusiastically, trying to keep you away from the room that for sure reeked of sex and held scattered clothes of his own and another woman’s.

“But I want to spend time at home with you,” you pouted. Bakugou felt his heart melt at the cute face you pulled and brought you closer to him.

“I know, I wanna spend time with you too but I’ve been in the house for so long, I think I need to get out of here.” The blonde said while being aware and on the lookout for Leiko.

“Well I’ve been out of the house for so long and I know I need to be in it. Besides, as your previously injured wife, what I say goes.” You said with sass and a smile. Katsuki laughed, loving your little attitude but still worried of what you may find out.

“Baby please, can we just go?” He begged as he held your soft hands in his.

“Why are you so adamant on leaving, Suki?” You asked

“That’s because he doesn’t want you to find out about me.”

Your body jumped at the sound of a new voice and you looked at Katsuki’s face, noticing it scrunching in fear, before you turned around to find another woman wearing nothing but Katsuki’s shirt. The same shirt you’ve worn a thousand times over. You could feel your heart clenching in pain but you stood your ground no less.

“Who are you?” You asked as you dropped your hands from your husband’s. You heard his little whine at the loss of your touch as he reached out to hold into your arm but you gently pushed him off.

“Y/N-“

“Oh come on, H/N. Don’t be in denial. I bet you already have an exact idea on who I am.” Leiko said with a smirk as she looked at you. You turned to your husband with raised brows and a face of anger as you glared at him. You looked back at her and bit your lip before smiling.

“Were you in it for the long haul?” You asked Leiko, wondering if she really wanted Katsuki or if she was just getting pleasure out of this.

“Definitely not. I just came for a quick fuck every now and then. Wanted to get a feel of what it was like getting dicked down by a big shot pro-hero.” She said casually.

“Did you know he was married?” You asked.

“Yeah but he didn’t seem to care so neither did I.” She said. This made your blood boil a bit and you wanted to cry so damn bad, but you refused to allow your whore of a husband and this stranger to see you break. You huffed before smiling again.

“You can take your leave now.” You kindly said. Leiko looked at you in confusion.

“You’re not mad?” She asked. Katsuki had the same thought running through his mind as his heart raced at this conversation happening right here right now.

“Oh I’m furious. But am I really supposed to be mad at some stranger who’s content with being a home wrecker? ‘Cuz I feel like most of my anger should be directed to the man-whore behind me.” You said, never looking Katsuki’s way.

“Y/N, please-“

“I’m not speaking to you yet.” You said calmly, still not looking at him. You didn’t have to turn around to know there were tears in your husband’s eyes. Leiko smiled before standing a little taller.

“Well then, I’ll be taking my leave,” she said and took off the big shirt and throwing it onto the couch, leaving herself in her underwear. “Am I expected to be back for another visit?”

“You can come back as many times as Katsuki asks. As far as I’m concerned, he’s a single man again.” You said with a laugh.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Katsuki asked with a break in his voice. Leiko laughed too before nodding and walking back to the bedroom and gathering her things. You walked silently to sit on the couch with Katsuki following you. “Y/N, what the fuck do you mean I’m single. I’m still your husband!”

You remained silent as you looked at him with a sarcastic smile. You said nothing as you waited for Leiko to return. “Say something!”

Finally, Leiko walked down the stairs, fully dressed, and looked to you before taking her leave. You smiled at her before speaking. “So..I don’t want him anymore. Do you?”

“No I’m good. Anybody’s good for a fuck but I don’t date cheaters.” Leiko said with her hand on the knob.

“I’m not a fucking cheater!” Katsuki shouted at her as he had tears dripping down his face. She gave him a dry laugh before opening the door.

“Take a look around Bakugou. You’re not a cheater?” She asked before walking out and shutting the door, leaving the two of you in the broken home. Silence passed and all that could be heard was Katsuki’s shaky breath. You then stood up, gaining his attention, and tried walking to your bedroom before Katsuki stopped you by holding onto your arm. Tight.

“Where the fuck are you going, Y/N?” He asked as he cried angrily. You tried to shake him off of you to no avail.

“I’m leaving you fucking idiot. If you haven’t noticed, you cheated. You were disloyal. You allowed some stranger into our home, into our bed, just to get your dick wet.” You said with an angry but calm tone.

“She wasn’t a stranger.” Bakugou said trying to defend himself. You laughed and stepped to face him.

“Oh really? Tell me one damn thing you know about her.” You asked. As Katsuki thought about it..he really didn’t know anything about her. Fuck- he didn’t even know her family name. All he knew was that her name was Leiko. They were speaking for a month and in that entire month, Katsuki only ever talked about himself. She never gave up any information about herself. All she wanted to do was get to know Katsuki and get in his pants. She really was a stranger and he just tossed away his entire relationship for some whore. His silence gave you your answer. “That’s what I thought.”

You tried walking away again before he ran to stand in front of you. “Y/N! Please! Just listen, okay? I was depressed because you were gone!”

“And that’s your excuse for cheating on me?!” You shouted.

“No! But- but it hurt me to even think about you in that hospital bed! I couldn’t even face you without feeling like I was dying! And then that fucking snake came and she distracted me and kept my thoughts away from you. She kept the pain away. I know that that’s not excuse for what I did but please try to understand why I did it!” He begged as he cried.

“I will never understand! Because I could never do what you did! If you were in the hospital, close to death, I would’ve been by your side every second of every day! Yes I would’ve felt all the pain and depression you did but I wouldn’t want to distract myself from it! Because at least then I would be thinking about you, and worrying about you, and caring about you, and loving you because you’re my husband Katsuki! I wouldn’t ever want to not think about you!” You shouted in anger and hurt as you allowed a few tears to fall. This urged Katsuki to cup your face in his hands and wipe away your tears.

“I’m so sorry, baby. Please, can we just move pass this? Please.” He said softly as he pressed his forehead to your own before you shoved him off.

“Get away from me!” You shouted, breaking his heart as he stumbled back. “After everything we’ve been through, you go and do this to me?! AFTER EVERYTHING?!”

“IM SORRY! PLEASE! I CAN’T TAKE BACK WHAT I DID BUT YOU HAVE TO FORGIVE ME!” He shouted back.

“WHO THE FUCK SAYS I HAVE TO FORGIVE YOU, BAKUGOU?!” You said, emphasizing the use of his family name. The name that you also held.

“Don’t call me that, baby, please.” He whimpered.

“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME THAT BAKUGOU! WE’RE DONE!” You shouted and walked away to your room with him following you. He kept spewing apologies up until you opened the bedroom door. It was a horrible mess and the stench of sex filled the air. You covered your mouth and nose as tears pricked your eyes before walking in to open your closet, disappointed as you noticed all the pictures of you two were flipped to be hidden. When you opened the doors, you didn’t find your clothes. “Where the fuck is my stuff, Bakugou.”

“I’m not telling you because you’re not leaving me, Y/N!” He said as he tried to hug you from behind before you pushed him off again.

“I’m not staying here! Tell me where my stuff is so I can leave!” You demanded.

“Like hell I will! We haven’t even had a full talk about this! You can’t just leave!” He said. You watched as tears fell down his face which only made you even more angry. He was crying? He did this! This is all his fault! How can he be the one upset?! “Y/N please, I’ll get on my fucking knees and beg you to stay if it’s what it takes but you can’t go! We’ve been together for 13 years! 13! Even before UA-“

“And you threw all that away when you decided to sleep with someone else.” You said calmly. You walked out of the room in search for your clothes as he followed and continued to speak with sobs breaking apart his sentences.

“Y/N please! I- I can fix this! You don’t have to go! You can stay and we can be happy, just like we’ve always been! Just like we were a few minutes ago before that bitch walked in and ruined everything!” He cried making you turn around in a snap.

“She didn’t ruin anything Katsuki. When you allowed her to come into your life and into our home, that’s when you fucked up. You did this to us. You ruined everything.” You said before continuing your search.

“T-Tell me what you want Y/N! I’ll make it happen! I’ll do anything- I’ll give you the fucking world! As long as you stay!” He begged. You approached the guest room in silence and Bakugou grew frantic as he blocked you from going in. “Please- don’t.”

“All my stuff is in there, isn’t it?” You asked, already knowing the answer and only having it confirmed when he remained silent. “Get out of my way.”

Bakugou shook his head as he kept the door block as you tried to pry your way through. Growing frustrated, you used a small amount of your quirk to blast him through the door, having him groan in pain as he hit the floor and watched you find your clothes in the guest room closet. You began packing your things and Bakugou was quick to stand and take everything you put in your bag out. “Stop it!”

“No! You’re staying with me! You’re not leaving me Y/N- I won’t lose you again!” He said as he tossed your bag across the room. You watched it go and stood in disbelief at his childish antics.

“Heh, you know what? Whatever, keep all the clothes. Maybe you’ll gift it to the next girl you decide to bring back here.” You said with attitude.

“I’m not bringing anybody else through those doors! I ONLY WANT YOU Y/N!” He shouted.

“Doubtful. Keep it, burn it, regift it, I don’t care. With my salary I can buy myself a new wardrobe and a new apartment. Far. Away. From you.” You said and walked out of the room. As you tried to exit the house, Katsuki pulled you back into his arms as you struggled in his grip with your face smushed against his chest.

“Please! Please tell me what you want! I’ll do anything! I’ll buy you anything! We’ll do whatever you want- Y/N I’ll even quit my job! Just please don’t go! Please forgive me!” He cried before you harshly pushed him off to reveal your sobbing face.

“I WANT TO LEAVE! BECAUSE I DONT WANT THIS ANYMORE KATSUKI!” You shouted before wiping your eyes and bringing your voice down. “I wanted my husband there with me at the hospital! I wanted him to be the first face that I saw when I woke up! But you couldn’t even give me that! Instead, you were in our home in our bed with some random person you found wherever having sex with her despite the fact that you’re a married man! …I was in a fucking hospital fighting for my life and my husband was too busy cheating on me, trying not to think about me…..I want to leave Katsuki.”

“….I can’t let you do that Y/N…I’m sorry. But I can’t do this without you.” He cried as you listed all his shortcomings. “I’ll give you whatever-“

“I don’t want material things!” You shouted in exhaustion. “I wanted your loyalty and love!”

“And you have that!”

“We wouldn’t be in this situation if I did!” You said. “I’m leaving, Katsuki. And not you or anybody else in this fucking world is going to stop me. If you try and trap me here I will break down these walls myself and get out. If you force me to stay I will do whatever it takes to get away from you. I’m not staying with you. So we’re done. And we’re getting a divorce, whether you like it or not.”

As you walked to the door you could hear his heart breaking cries as you opened the exit. “Y/N please. I don’t want this, I waited months for you to come home to me…I need you.”

“When are you gonna realize Katsuki? This is your fault. You did this to us.”

And with that, you shut the door on the house, the home, the relationship, and him. And it was all his fault.

A/N: Y’all ima be writing a part 2 for this so stay tuned

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight @lanantoine @whatdidshesayyy @kiranogareru

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masterofmunson · 3 years

Text

look after you (1)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: tfatws spoilers, language, violence, blood, grief, angst, major pining

Word Count: 6k+

Author’s Note: Here she is!! I’m really excited to see what you guys think! This is my first Bucky fic in AGES! I decided to make this into a mini series since this fic is so long haha. Please let me know what you think. Comments, reblogs, and asks are highly encouraged and appreciated! Enjoy!

You hadn’t seen Sam or Bucky in several weeks. You were still adjusting to life post-blip. It had been a long five years for you and just seconds for them. You were no longer the bright-eyed and bushy tailed recruit. You’d grown into your position amongst the established and experienced Avengers. Now, it meant nothing.

Tony’s gone. Steve’s dead, Natasha too. The Avengers had officially disbanded. You felt lost and confused, still blinded by your grief over losing them. You had nowhere to go, so you just floated from place to place as needed.

You were laying low and a shell of the person you once were. You had no one to look towards anymore. Bucky went his separate ways and got some sort of footing in New York City with the pardon he was given by the government since his return to the states. You checked in every now and then with him, but you didn’t want to slow down his progress so you distanced yourself from him.

You know he feels some sort of responsibility towards you. Steve did too, and you suppose now that he’s gone, Bucky feels the need to take his place. It doesn’t matter that you’re no longer the naive 23 year old he met in Berlin all those years ago. It doesn’t matter that there was something lingering between the two of you before he turned to ash. You’re a grown woman now and war and politics has hardened your soul.

He needs to move on from you. The version he has of you in his head is gone, dead. He wants a fresh start, and you can’t give it to him.

Sam checks in with you once in a while. He asks you how you’re doing and you respond the same each time. “Same shit, different day,” you laughed lightly.

He knows better than to ask you to join him on his missions with the military. You’re not in the right headspace to return to the field, least of all if it meant that you were representing the US government wherever the fight was.

Now that John Walker has the shield and has been branded the new Captain America, it gives you all the more reason to stay away. If he had so much as just breathed in your direction, you’d kill him and rip the shield from his grasp and return it to Sam.

You ignored all emails and phone calls that had to do with John Walker. He wanted your blessing on live television, as if that meant anything. Yes, you were close with Steve, but you’re not an original Avenger. You just caught his eye during training one day and he took you under his wing. John Walker just wanted to create a bridge between the two of you since Sam and Bucky were obviously out of the question.

You were the first person Sam called when he told you he was giving up the shield. You didn’t ask why. You knew he had his reasons and you respected him to accept that whatever the reasons were, they were good enough.

So, when Sam called in the middle of the night, you picked up the phone without a second thought. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you sit up and fumble for the light on the nightstand beside you.

“Sam? You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?” you asked, yawning into your phone.

Sam curses in your ear and apologizes quietly. “Sorry. You would think with all this traveling, I’d remember time zones are a thing,” he laughed softly.

“What is it, Sam?”

“We’re in a bit of a tight spot. We could use your help.”

Your brows pinch together. “Who’s we, Sam?”

“Me and Barnes.”

Your heart jumps inside your throat. How the hell did Sam manage to rope Bucky into whatever he’s doing? The last you heard, Bucky wasn’t allowed to go on government missions until his therapist thought he made enough progress to do so. You know he’s nowhere near the progress he wants to be, so how is he with Sam?

“Jesus, Sam. You know he’s not in the right headspace to go on missions!” There’s a heavy pause between the two of you before you relent. “Where am I meeting you?”

“Latvia. I’ll fill you in when you get here.”

You hang up quickly and hurry out of bed. After so many years of getting up at odd hours for emergency missions and the like, you’re not surprised that Sam asked you to meet him in the middle of the night. You grab your duffle bag and stuff all your belongings back inside. You travel lightly, and now it definitely seemed to work out in your favor.

You’ve spent the last couple of weeks in a small town just outside of Helena, Montana. It’s nice and quiet and you’ve really taken the time to reflect on your life since things started going back to normal post-blip. The locals are nice and hospitable, and no one asks you about Steve, Tony, or what you thought of John Walker. You hope it had something to do with the fact that they didn’t know who you were. You certainly hoped that was the case. You’ve kept your head down and tried your best to blend in.

You go hiking quite frequently and take drives through the mountains. It’s nice and relaxing, a far cry from what you’re used to. You’ll definitely miss it, and you have second thoughts about meeting up with Sam, but you push them away. Steve abandoned you both, and you wouldn’t do that to him.

It takes you several hours to get to the closest international airport and by the time you arrive, the sun begins to rise in the distance. You hurry through the airport security and send Sam a quick update that you’re about to board your flight before you settle in your seat and fall back asleep.

....

You sleep through the entire flight. You blame it on your ability to sleep anywhere due to the number of missions you have under your belt. You’re wide awake when the plane lands and you’re quick to pull out your phone and send a message to Sam that you’ve made it safe and sound to Latvia.

Your legs are stiff and sore when you stand up for the first time when it’s time to leave. You pull your duffle bag from the overhead compartment and slowly make your way to the front. It takes you nearly an hour to get through customs and now you’re just anxiously waiting to see Sam.

When you see him waiting for you at the baggage claim area, you grin as your eyes meet. You hurry over to him and drop your duffle bag to the floor as he pulls you in for a hug. It’s warm and tight and it’s exactly what you need. Sam pulls away first and reaches for your bag, throwing an arm over your shoulder as you walk out of the airport to his car.

You stop walking when you notice two figures near a very fancy yellow car as you and Sam near them. Sam keeps walking and you take slow, tentative steps. You know one of the figures has to be Bucky, but Sam never mentioned a third person.

“Sam, I thought you said that it was just you and Bucky,” you said cautiously.

Sam stops in his tracks and lets out a nervous chuckle and scratches the back of his head. It makes your heart race and you swallow the lump in your throat as they begin to come into focus as they near the two of you. “Y/n, before you get angry, I just need you to know that this wasn’t my idea. Believe me when I tell you that he is the last person we would ask for help,” Sam replied as his eyes went from you to the two people approaching.

“Who is he?” you asked through gritted teeth.

“Ah! Y/n, good to know that your flight went rather smoothly. It is good to see you again.”

No. There’s no way. You must be dreaming. Hemlut Zemo is not standing right in front of you. He is in prison. He is behind bars for the crimes he committed. The two men that you're closest to wouldn’t jailbreak someone as atrocious as Zemo. There has to be an explanation. It doesn’t make sense.

“What the fuck is Zemo doing out of prison?!” you hissed, looking between Bucky and Sam, demanding an explanation.

“Y/n, honey, I can explain, just please get in the car,” Bucky pleaded, reaching out to touch your hand.

You glare at him and take a step back. “Are you out of your mind, Bucky? You break him out of jail because you need him, is that it? Do you remember what he did to you, because I certainly do!”

Bucky frowns and lets out a deep and heavy sigh. He looks over at Sam. “Did you fill her in at all?”

“No!” you shouted. “I can speak for myself, James! Someone better start talking and tell me what the hell is going on!”

“We don’t really have time for this right now,” Zemo interrupts, “we really must be going. I’m sure Sam and James can fill you in in the car.”

You glare at the Sokovian terrorist and snap at him. “Shut your mouth, Zemo.”

He raises his hands up in surrender and takes a step back. Bucky towers over you and this time you let him take your hand. He squeezes it gently and pulls you into his chest, hugging you tightly. You’re tense and fuming as he holds you.

His mouth finds the shell of your ear and despite the wave of anger flowing through your body, it sends a shiver down your spine. Bucky whispers, “I hate to say it, but Zemo’s right. We have to go. I’ll explain on the way, I promise.”

You huff childishly and turn your head away from him as he kisses your temple. “Fine. If he steps out of line, I’ll kill him.”

Bucky laughs and takes your hand and walks you to the car. “Get in line, honey. Sam and I have first dibs.”

You resist the urge to smile and Bucky opens the door for you as Sam tosses your bag in the trunk and climbs into the front seat. Bucky slides in beside you and he tells you everything.

He tells you about their first encounter with the Flag Smashers. He tells you about how the leader and a few of her followers have taken a newer version of the serum that runs through his veins. He tells you that she plans on giving the serum to more people to build an army and that you have to stop her.

It makes your heart stop. You hadn’t really been keeping tabs on the Flag Smashers. Now, looking back, you probably should have. There’s still a lot of unknown variables to account for and it looks like the boys are taking it one step at a time, and apparently it starts with a trip to Madripoor. Zemo chimes in every now and then as he drives and it makes your blood boil that you’re forced to listen to what he has to say. You hate that he has the upper hand and is keeping valuable information hostage. You want to strangle him.

After a while, Zemo pulls into a private airport. Bucky helps you out of the car and grabs your bag from the trunk as the four of you walk towards the jet just off the runway. You had no idea just how rich Zemo was. Now that he’s out of prison, for now at least, his arrogance returned back in full force in addition to his pompous attitude.

You board the plane in silence, ignoring every word coming out of the Baron’s mouth. You settle in the back of the plane and ignore Bucky’s stares as you look out the window. You’re too angry to engage in conversation. You don’t care that Zemo insults Steve’s legacy. He’s gone, dead, what do you care? Yes, you wanted Steve to be happy, but he abandoned you. He abandoned Sam and Bucky.

Zemo rambles on and on. “People like Steve become symbols, icons. Then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought,” he turns to address Bucky directly. “You remember that, right? As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?”

Silence fills the space and for a moment, you feel a reprieve. That was until Zemo mentioned the Winter Soldier.

“We can’t go into Madripoor as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.”

You immediately stand up and protest, storming to the front of the plane. “No. Absolutely not. I won’t let you use Bucky, not again. There has to be another way.”

Zemo clicks his tongue at you and shakes his head. A smug graces his features and you lung at him, wrapping your hands around his throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Bucky leaps to his feet and tears you off of Zemo, dragging you to the back of the plane behind the curtains to give the two of you an illusion of privacy. Your shoulders shake with rage and Bucky’s hands caress your face.

“You can’t be him. He’s not you anymore. You don’t have to do this, Bucky. Please,” you begged, clinging to his hands. “I can’t let Zemo control you again.”

Bucky’s touched with how protective you are over him. He pulls you closer and hugs you tightly against him. Your fingers grip the back of his shirt and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

“Honey,” he whispered. “I have to. I have to do this so we can stop the Flag Smashers from getting the serum. It’s for the mission.”

You huffed against his chest. Now you’re really regretting your decision to help Sam. You would’ve said no if you had known that it meant watching Bucky turn into the Winter Soldier again, even if it wasn’t real.

You don’t know what to say. He won’t change his mind. Bucky’s just as stubborn as you are and he’ll do anything for the success of the mission, just like Steve did.

You pull away and return back to your seat, crossing your arms over your chest as you stare into the back of Zemo’s plush leather seat. Bucky trails behind you and squeezes your shoulder. You shrug off his touch as he takes the empty seat next to yours.

“And, I’m afraid that where we’re going doesn’t take too kindly to women who are…. how do I put this…. strong willed,” Zemo said.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bucky barked, jumping to your defense just moments after you did the same for him.

“Selby will see Y/n as competition. We can’t have that happen. She’ll have to stay behind.”

“You’re out of your mind if you think I’m just going to just sit here and do nothing,” you snapped. “I’m coming with. I don’t care if I have to pretend to be meek.”

Zemo turns to look at you. He’s challenging you. You both know it. He’s pushing your buttons and it’s working. He smirks and leans against the armchair. His eyebrows raise and he asks, “Even if it means pretending to be a prostitute?”

Your gaze doesn’t falter and you ignore both Sam’s and Bucky’s protests. It falls on deaf ears. You don’t care, as long as you’re with Sam and Bucky and they’re safe. “Yes,” you answered without a second thought. You’ve done worse things than pretend to be a sex worker. It would be a piece of cake.

Zemo grins, letting out a soft laugh. “It looks like you’ll be joining us after all then, Y/n.”

You scoff at him and look out the window. Bucky drags you from your seat once more and pulls you behind the curtain. You look away from him and he reaches to squeeze your hand.

“You don’t have to do this. You have nothing to prove,” he whispered, brushing the top of your palm with his warm and calloused fingers.

“You don’t either,” you mumbled back.

He smiles softly at your retort and pulls you into his arms. He holds you gently and cards his fingers through your hair. You hum quietly as he holds you.

“Touché, honey.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you before you lean back to meet his gaze. His blue eyes pierce through yours and it makes your heart race. You pull away and rub your palms against your thighs.

You disappear behind the curtain once more, leaving Bucky behind.

…

When you arrive in Madripoor, you’re dressed in an outfit that leaves little to the imagination. The dress has a plunging neckline that settles just below your naval. Your chest is barely covered and your boobs threaten to slip over the fabric. You’re dressed for the part, that’s for sure.

Zemo is the first one to look at you when you return from behind the curtain. He whistles at you and it makes your skin crawl.

Bucky shoves Zemo harshly and grips his chest tightly, snarling in his face. “Watch your mouth,” Bucky hissed, shoving him into one of the chairs.

He turns to look at you and you reach to squeeze his hand. You pull him away from Zemo and whisper softly, “It’s alright, Buck. Take a deep breath.”

He grits his teeth and shakes his head, and does what you ask. “I’ll kill him. If he does that again, I’ll kill him.”

You laugh softly and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I don’t doubt you will, Buck.”

The two of you trail behind Sam and Zemo as you leave the plane. A sleek black car is waiting just off the runway and you follow behind to the vehicle. When you settle into your spot in between Buck and Sam in the back, Zemo turns to look at the three of you.

“It’s imperative that we don’t break character, no matter what. If you do, we’re good as dead, understand?”

You scoff and roll your eyes as he looks towards you. “Crystal,” you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest.

He turns to face the front of the vehicle and silence fills the car.

Suddenly, a number of motorcycles surround the car as you drive into Low Town. you make sure to keep your eyes forward and Bucky reaches for the hand on your knee. He squeezes it tightly and you do the same.

Reality is now just setting in for you. This is the first mission that you’ve been on since Steve went back to the 40s, and since Tony died. It had been three long months since Tony saved the world and brought everyone back that was taken five years earlier. You know that three months isn’t long, but it still makes you nervous. You haven’t been training to keep things from going rusty. You had no desire to.

Bucky leans into you, his mouth near the shell of your ear. “You okay?”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yeah, just a bit nervous. I’m a little out of practice. This is my first mission since Steve left,” you mumbled back, squeezing his hand again to keep you grounded. He does the same in return.

“It’s alright. I have your back. I’ll protect you, promise.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face and you shake your head at him. “You know better than anyone else than to promise something like that before a mission, Buck. It’s bad luck,” you teased.

He laughs too and the car stops in what you guess is the downtown area of Low Town. You take a deep breath and Bucky does the same. You squeeze his hand one last time before his hand falls from your grasp. He opens the door and climbs out. You follow close behind and find your spot next to Sam. He gingerly wraps his arm around your waist as you walk into the Princess Bar.

Electronic music blasts through the speakers and the bass vibrates through your chest. You press against Sam as you push through people to get to the bar. The smell of drugs and alcohol is suffocating as you walk and ignore the stares sent your way. They’re not staring at you, but Bucky, who walks just a step behind you like a looming shadow.

“Ready to comply, Winter Soldier?” Zemo asked Bucky in Russian.

It makes your blood boil and Sam squeezes your waist tightly, a reminder that you must not break character. You hate it. You hate that Bucky has to pretend to be the person he’s worked so hard to distance himself from. Bucky is not him. The Winter Soldier doesn’t exist anymore. That part of him is gone, dead. You only hope that Bucky reminds himself that the Winter Soldier isn’t him anymore as he pretends just feet behind you.

You stand in front of the bar counter as the bartender approaches. You keep your mouth shut as Zemo exchanges words with the man, briefly bringing Sam, the Smiling Tiger, into the conversation. Your eyes find Bucky’s and your heart jumps inside your throat. His eyes are cold and void of any emotion. He’s stoic and brooding. He’s fallen into character perfectly and it scares you to think that all the progress he’s made over the years has been destroyed in this moment. For his sake, you hope not.

You tear your eyes away from Bucky at the feeling of Sam’s hand on the curve of your ass. You watch him carefully as he takes a shot. The bartender moves on and you let out a careful breath.

A man grasps at Zemo’s shoulder and sneers at him. He looks over at Bucky as Zemo asks to see Selby before he walks away. Another man approaches Zemo from behind and he speaks in Russian once more. “Winter Soldier, attack.”

You hold your breath in anticipation as the unsuspecting man rests his hand on Zemo’s shoulder. You want to reach out and touch Bucky, tell him that he doesn’t have to, that the two of you still have time to make a run for it, but you don’t. You can’t. Zemo would probably try and kill you if you interfere and it’s the last thing you need.

Bucky stalks over to him with two long strides, and rips the man’s hand from Zemo’s shoulder. He twists his wrist back and throws him to the ground. Another man swings at Bucky and he stops it with ease. He punches his back and kicks him against another crowny. As another man attempts to punch and kick at Bucky. He uses his metal arm and momentum to take each of them out.

“It doesn’t take much for him to fall back into form,” Zemo smirked, leaning over to look at you and Sam.

“Shut your mouth,” you hissed between your teeth as you watched Bucky.

Bucky grabs one of the men by the throat and slams him into the counter. Guns cock all around you as you look around the room. Your heart is inside your throat and there’s ringing in your ears. You reach to grab Bucky’s arm, but Sam beats you to it.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us,” Zemo whispered. “Well done, soldier.”

Sam lets go of his arm and takes a step back, pulling you with him. He squeezes your hip tightly as you watch Bucky’s grip fall from the man’s throat.

“Selby will see you now,” the bartender said.

Zemo moves to follow him and you resist the urge to reach out and touch Bucky. Sam pulls you along and you walk in silence down a number of hallways. The music fades into the background and you’re squeezing Sam’s hand like your life depends on it.

A number of men on Selby’s security detail whistle as you walk by. You bite your tongue and resist the urge to snap their necks. The four of you wait at the door at the end of the hall for several seconds before it opens. You walk inside and Zemo takes you from Sam’s side. Your jaw ticks as he guides you to the empty sofa. His hand settles on your thigh and you tense under his touch.

Zemo and Selby negotiate for information. All you need to know is who created the serum and where they are. That’s it. Zemo needs to stick to the plan.

Zemo stands up from his spot next to you. “Tell us what you know about the super soldier serum, and I give you him…. along with the code words to control him,” Zemo stands behind Bucky, his hand resting on his shoulder. He’s silent and obedient, the perfect encapsulation of who he had been for the last 80 years.

There wasn’t a discussion over what the offer would be when you were on the plane from Latvia. You just assumed Zemo would figure a way out of it, he was clever enough to do it before. You hadn’t thought that he would actually use the Winter Soldier to his benefit outside of protection. How naive of you.

Bucky’s eyes are dark and he stares straight ahead as Zemo caresses his chin. He doesn’t flinch or react. He’s playing the Winter Soldier perfectly and you hate every second. You bite the inside of your cheek so hard that you start to taste blood.

“He will do anything you want.”

Selby grins, leaning back in her spot on the couch opposite of you. She tells him what you need to know. She nears Sam and then the worst happens, his phone begins to ring.

She tells him to answer it and your fingers squeeze into the leather couch. Your heart races and for the first time since you walked into the bar, Bucky’s eyes find yours. You know he can see your panic.

Things are fine momentarily. Sam’s trying his best to stay in character and you know it’s not working as well as he’d like. You hold your breath and your panic settles in at the mention of Sam’s name coming from Sarah.

“Kill them—”

Your eyes widen in horror as a bullet pierces through the glass window in front of you and lodges into Selby’s throat, killing her instantly. The act is over.

You leap to your feet and pull the tactical knife that you hid in your dress out from underneath you. You slice the knife across your attacker’s arm. Bucky kicks him into the wall and grabs you by the arm.

You run as fast as you can out the bar and through the streets of Madripoor. You dodge bullets and fight off others that attack you with knives.

You do well, all things considered with what you’re dressed in. You dig your heel into the boot of your attacker, throwing them off balance. You kick their leg out from underneath them and Sam knocks them unconscious.

Bucky, of course, is doing just fine on his own. You run over to help. You disarm the man closer to you and use the butt of the gun to knock him out.

You barely have time to register the man creeping up behind Bucky. His arm is outstretched with a gun in his hand. Bucky has no clue.

“Bucky!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, running as fast as you can towards him.

He turns to look at you as you use your whole body to shove him aside as the gun goes off.

Time stands still.

You fall to the ground in a daze as the bullet rips through your shoulder. Your eyes stare up into the night sky as it takes you a moment to realize that you’d just been shot.

You try to sit up and get back on your feet. You don’t have time to worry about your wound. You need to get the hell out of Low Town.

Bucky nearly drags you off the ground and you run. You run as fast as you can despite the bullet in your shoulder.

“We need to get out of here!” Bucky shouted, inspecting your wound.

A shadowy figure approaches and Bucky blocks you from view. The hood drops and you peer over Bucky’s shoulder. You don’t have time to be surprised that Sharon is the one standing in front of you.

“Sharon? What are you doing here?” Sam asked.

“We don’t have time for that!” Bucky snapped. “Sharon, please. You gotta help us. Y/n’s been shot.”

She nods and motions for you to follow her. She stops in front of a beautiful blue car and Bucky guides you into the car, pressing his metal hand against your shoulder to stop the bleeding. You ignore Sam and Bucky’s bickering as they yell at you for getting shot. You don’t have the energy to respond.

Sharon races across town and pulls up to a very fancy building. Sharon jumps out and opens the door for Bucky. His arm holds your torso and your uninjured arm is thrown over his shoulder as you walk inside. You gather into the elevator as it takes you to the top floor.

Your entire body goes numb and Bucky guides you to the kitchen counter. Sharon briefly disappears before returning with a heavy duty first aid kit.

“Do you have tequila?” you asked her as Bucky rummaged through the bag for the correct supplies. Sharon laughs softly before grabbing a bottle of tequila from her liquor cabinet. You take a generous sip and the liquid burns your throat.

Bucky inspects the bullet wound carefully. Thankfully it was a through and through. He doesn’t have to fish the bullet out. He works quickly and you grit your teeth as he stitches the wound close on both sides of your shoulder.

The pain lessened to a dull throb now that he’s finished. He cleans the excess blood off your skin before gently placing your arm in a sling.

“Why did you do that, Y/n?” Bucky chastised you, shaking his head in disappointment. “I could’ve taken care of him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I don’t even get a thank you for saving your ass? You were vulnerable, I did the right thing.”

He sighs and you look away. Your eyes find Sharon’s. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

She nods and disappears down the hall to her bedroom. Silence fills the room and Sam takes his turn to reprimand you. You ignore him entirely and take another large swig of tequila.

Sharon returns moments later with a pair of clean clothes. You thank her quietly and she points you in the direction of one of the guest bedrooms. You hop off the counter and ignore Bucky’s protests and calls of your name.

You huffed in frustration as you limped towards one of Sharon’s guest bedrooms. You had enough of Sam and Bucky yelling at you for your recklessness, especially Bucky. You’re exhausted and all you want to do is sleep.

You did what you thought was right. You did what Steve would’ve done. You had Bucky’s back. Isn’t that what mattered? Sure, you got shot in the shoulder, but it isn’t something you haven’t done before. You have the scars to prove it.

“Stop running away from me! We’re not done talking about this!” Bucky yelled after you, hot on your heels into the bedroom. “What were you thinking?”

You’re sick of Bucky questioning you. You’re not a child and you’re not the bright eyed recruit he thinks you still are. You did what was right in the heat of the moment. You don’t regret it. You’d do it all over again if it meant that he was safe.

“Stop treating me like a child, James! I’m not Steve’s recruit anymore! I’m a grown woman,” you shouted back at him. Your shoulders shake and you glare at him. “I know you still think I’m that naive 25 year old, but that’s not me anymore. The last five years may have been five seconds to you, but they weren’t to me. Accept the fact that I did what I thought was right.”

“It was reckless!”

“Steve would’ve done it!” you bit back.

“This isn’t about Steve!” he argued.

You laugh bitterly and shake your head. He doesn’t see it. He doesn’t see what you see. You know he sees you as his responsibility now that Steve’s gone. He feels an obligation to look after you because Steve did. You have a part of Steve with you. Bucky’s clinging to any last remains of Steve, and that includes you.

“Isn’t it though? You feel like you have a responsibility to protect me, to look after me. Why? It’s because Steve did and now that he’s gone, you feel like you have to replace him!”

The silence that fills the room suffocates you. Your heart races with anger. You want Bucky to leave you alone. You didn’t ask for this. Sam needed your help, and when you provided it, you got yelled at for it. Now you just want to go home.

You turn your back to Bucky and pull the pants that Sharon gave you up your legs before discarding the dress in the corner of the room. You don’t care if Bucky sees all the scars that litter your backside. Maybe then he would understand that you’ve always done what’s best for the mission, even if that meant getting hurt. You throw the sweatshirt over your head and turn to look at Bucky again.

“Do you have anything else to say to me? Are you going to try and deny it?”

Bucky sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You’re one of the only people I have left that have a connection to Steve.”

Another bitter laugh escapes your mouth. He doesn’t understand. “He abandoned me, James! He abandoned us. Steve’s gone. You can’t hold on to him anymore. You don’t have to do anything Steve did. You have nothing to prove to me, I promise. I don’t need you to replace Steve. I need you, Buck. You’re the one that’s here with me, not Steve.”

Tears threaten to spill over your cheeks and you look away from him. The silence is deafening and Bucky moves to take you in his arms. He holds you against his chest and cards his fingers through your hair. You cry against his chest and cling to his henley. He gently guides you to the bed and sits down with you in his lap.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispered, rubbing your back. “You’re right. It just scared me. I don’t think I can handle losing you too. I’m sorry.”

You pull away to look at him with your tear stained cheeks and he carefully wipes away your tears with the pad of his thumb. You blink away the remaining tears and lean into his touch. “It’s okay, Buck. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

You rest your forehead against his and breathe him in. His metal hand rubs circles against your back and it sends shivers down your spine. He holds you carefully and no words are exchanged. Your eyes flicker to his lips and your heart thunders against your chest.

There’s a soft knock at the door and you pull your body off of Bucky’s. You sit beside him as Sam pokes his head inside the room. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking between the two of you.

You look over at Bucky and then back to Sam. You smile and nod slowly. “Everything’s perfect, Sam.”

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #tfatws #tfatws x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #Sebastian stan imagines #sebastian x reader #sebastian imagine #my writing

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years

Note

Can I request some chilly fluff? Anything really, just some cute sweet chilly fluff with a little bit of angst maybe?

of course! here's an idea that's been swimming around my brain all day lol

helping hand

ben isn't coping with his newest responsibility and his best friend comes to save the day once again

It's honestly less about the news than it is about the fact that you didn’t here it from him. Texts have gone mostly unanswered since you read that online article you first believed was false, only for it to be confirmed by him. You offered a congratulations despite the pain it brought to you to hear that you had completely lost your chance.

You had probably called him about a million times, each time ringing out and some even being hung up after merely a few rings.

At first, you worried that something had happened. Then you managed to wrangle the news out of Mason that everything was well, you let yourself have those days of utter heartbreak that he had found a girl, started to settle down and then completely cut you out of the picture. This was the first time in all of your 23 years that you hadn't been able to speak to him about things that were going on. He seemed to have completely fogotten about you and you couldn't bring yourself to think of a reason why.

She never really did like you, his girlfriend. You could only imagine it had something to do with the fact that Ben was incredibly close with you. A lot of girls had been unhappy with the fact that while dating Ben, they were subject to teasing that everyone was surprised he was dating when they had thought he was so clearly in love with you. You understand that, it would be irritating but nothing had ever happened between you and Ben that might suggest you would ever get together. People just love a rumour.

What had really hit you, however was seeing her from the Instagram you followed. She didn't even appear to be in London, never mind with him and that made no sense by the timeline you had managed to figure out.

That's how you found yourself standing at his door with what felt like a million bags and a feeling of hurt you had never actually had before. You cornered Mason, refusing to leave until he told you what the hell was going on and when he did, you were gone like a flash with a broken heart to seek out the man who needed you now more than he ever did.

Your heart shatters even more when you step into his house, pushing it open and pulling out the key he gave you a few months ago as you head carefully to the kitchen. You can hear him trying to talk, his voice strained and croaky as he attempts to speak over the sound of the screaming baby girl.

"Come on sweetheart," he begs, "Please take your bottle, I promise you're just tired."

His house is messier than you've ever seen it with gifts unopened, blankets and bottles, baby toys and clothes strewn around everywhere you could see.

You're quick and quiet to get to work clearing the place up, clean clothes being folded and sat in his clean laundry hamper while sorting the dirty things and shoving them into the washing machine by colour before tidying away all the blankets into the baby boxes he had set up in his front room. The infant upstairs screams the entire time you whiz around, throwing an entire bin bag worth of rubbish out of his kitchen before restocking all the shelves and his empty fridge with food for him and milk powder for the little girl. The pizza you shoved in the oven the second you arrived was finished after 15 minutes, so you plated that and left it on the kitchen island before you decided to make you presence known to him.

"Need a helping hand?"

His head whips around rapidly, instinctively tucking his daughter closer into his chest before he recognised your voice and turned his face back away from you. "You shouldn't be here, (y/n)." He mumbles, bouncing his legs to try and get that screeching to stop before he starts crying again himself.

How had everything ended up so messy? He found a girl that he thought he loved, he had his best friends and he had you. She got pregnant and he was ecstatic until she told him she wasn't interested in having a baby. It was too late to do anything about it, so she gave birth to that baby and legally signed over parental rights wholly and fully to a destroyed Ben. You, of course, had to find this out half from the tabloids and half from Mason. Ben was absolutely affronted. He was mortified. How had he gotten himself in this position?

You were the first and only person he wanted to tell. He was desperate to seek out your arms and have an absolute sob to you so you could help him fix this like you do with everything else, but he couldn't bring himself to face you. He cut you off slowly and carefully without even noticing himself because she had coaxed him into it. She played him like a fiddle, let him grow her platform and fund her lifestyle until she had everything she wanted from him and left him with something that was supposed to be theirs to love forever.

As if things couldn't get worse, from the moment he found out she was having a baby he had realised he didn't want kids or a life with anyone but you and now here he is, with a baby that has no mother and he had lost you. How could he just go back crying to you now after all the hurt he had caused you? What kind of person does that? He made this mess and it was his to clean up.

"Mason told me what happened. You can fight me all you want, Ben but I'm not going to go anywhere so you may as well just let me help." You say firmly, not inviting a single space for him to actually contest your words. His shoulder deflate even further than they already are as he finally turns to meet your eyes.

There's bags and dark circles beneath his with greasy, messy hair and a shirt he probably hadn't changed in longer than he should.

"I'm sorry." He croaks, clamping down on his lip with his teeth so he doesn't immediately burst out crying at the sight of you standing there in his house. God, he's missed you so much he couldn't even begin to put it into words and his emotions are so messed up from the lack of sleep that he'll cry at just about anything right now. "It's forgotten about. We don't have to talk about it, I'm here to help."

The weight that lifts off of Ben's shoulder is the kind of immense relief that only really you can bring to him, honestly. There are few people that he has ever met that can ease him like you can and knowing he doesn't have to explain this whole situation really is something he's so thankful for.

"This is Lilly," he says weakly, nodding his head down at her whining. You smile immediately and without thought, stepping forward to get a closer look at the small baby, only two weeks old and already giving her dad a run for his money. "Hello Lilly," you coo softly, raising your hand to stroke her cheek with your finger in the most gentle manner he's ever seen. "Can I? I feel like I've missed out on two weeks worth of aunt (y/n) cuddles."

He tries not to think much into the fact you refer to yourself as her aunt because if he lets enough thought onto it, he'll find himself breaking his heart over you all over again. Ben nods, passing her into your arms carefully.

"I'll feed her, I made some pizza for you so you should go eat." You hold our your hand to take the bottle from him, but he frowns. "I-" Ben stutters, "I don't want to just lump you with her, plus she's upset so I shouldn't leave her y'know? It's not fair on-"

"Go and eat Ben, and have a shower while you're at it. We'll be fine in here, I've babysat a million times before." You shrug, taking the bottle from him as you step further into the nursery instead of standing in the doorway cradling the still whimpering little girl in her pink onesie. "But I-"

"Go."

"I should-"

"Ben go, now."

Ben sighs in defeat and turns on his heel, the rumbling of his stomach finally giving him away as he realises just how hungry and smelly he actually is. No wonder the infant was crying in his hold.

He trudges downstairs, hearing the sounds of those winging dying down as he does, half expecting to walk into the messy swamp he had left when he went upstairs earlier this morning, only to see the whole bottom floor of the house was basically as spotless as it had been the day he moved in, bar the baby variety adjustments he had made to welcome the new arrival.

He makes a mental note to thank you more and do some grovelling and apologising later on. He knows he has to do it and he knows he'll explain in more detail what really happened probably later today, but for now he will scoff that pizza down his throat faster than he has ever consumed a meal in all of his life before raining the cupboards that he discovered you had stocked. He is reminded with every step he takes around his house that this is you, again, here holding him up when the world around him feels like its completely crumbled.

This is what you do, you keep him together, fix him up after the heartbreaks and breakups preparing him for the next girl who's pieces you'll have to pick up when they hurt him. This time he doesn't want another girl, he wants you. This time, the one time that he would be miles too late. He's got a baby now that he needs to focus on and he can't imagine that you're going to want an instant family even if you could really see past the fact he had ghosted you for nearly five straight months from the moment he found out his girlfriend was pregnant. He can't forgive himself, so how on earth would you?

If he would ask, you would tell him you already had. Seeing how hurt he was, how genuinely sorry things had ended dup like this with everyone in his life he was was enough for you. It was enough to cause you actual physical pain. You never could hold a grudge considering the situation he had ended up in.

Ben had never ever once in his life being more thankful for his shower. He’s also pretty sure he fell asleep against the wall with the heat of the shower steam loosening his muscles and the fatigue of barely an hours sleep catching up to him. He towel dries off his hair, letting the towel hang around his neck as he rubs it against his head while he pads along the soft carpet of his hallway from the bedroom to his beautifully done pink nursery where he hears no crying, at all.

But he does here soft talking.

“Giving your daddy a hard time eh, pretty girl.” You hum softly, slowly swaying from side to side. She lays in your arms, looking up at you and stealing every bit of your heart with her daddies eyes. “He deserves it a little, you know. Just ‘cause he done me out of some adorable baby cuddles y’know?” Ben can hear the teasing smile on your lips as he leans against the doorframe out of your sight, keeping quiet so as not to be detected. “But he’s a good man, sweet girl. One of the best, actually. And i know he’s already such a good daddy to you, he loves you so so much. Do you know that, eh?” You say quietly. Ben catches the sight of you swaying that amazed little baby who coos up at you, reaching for your finger to hold. “Mhm, and i love you too. You have no idea how loved you are.” That’s one thing Ben can agree on.

“And you might not know it now because you’re little, but i do know one thing for absolute certain; I’m always gonna be here for you, and for your daddy even if he’s as stubborn about it as they come. You’ve got to help me out though, eh sweet girl? Be good to that daddy of yours. Yeah, sleepy baby? Mhm, my sweet girl.” The way you hum, bouncing her carefully and swaying in just the right way for her to fall asleep in your arms. Ben watches you for only a minute more, softly singing a little lullaby to her that makes Ben’s heart swell to ache so much that he has to take a small little video before he heads off downstairs with one last look.

When you finally greet him downstairs with a tight hug that he sinks into immediately, resting his cheek on your shoulder as your hands massage your fingers through his freshly cleaned hairs as his arms hug around your waist. “I’ve missed you.” He admits, words muffled by your sweatshirt. The feeling of your fingers at the nape of his neck makes him hum in content and sink into you peacefully just like his baby daughter did not half an hour ago. You’re just perfect for them both in every way and there is not one bone in his body that doesn’t wish he had started his family with you.

But with that realisation comes one more; that he will not settle until he has given everything he has, tried with every morsel of him to earn your forgiveness. He might not of started his family with you, but he is damn determined to make you part of it.

#ben chilwell imagine #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell imagines #ben chilwell #england national team imagine #chelsea imagine #footie fic #football fic #footballer fic

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btsqualityy · 3 years

Text

Fools Rush In: Chapter 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Strangers-to-lovers, age gap!AU (reader is 30, Jungkook is 23), Angst, smut, fluff

Summary: You deliver the news to Jungkook and he makes his own decision.

Warnings: None to note.

WC: 2.1K

Two weeks later, you found yourself staring blankly at the large number “25″ that was on the front door of what you had recently found out was Jungkook’s apartment.

You had come to Seoul to compete in the Korea Open so you decided to try and look Jungkook up. You had Yoongi get in touch with some of the organizers of the French Open in order to get his information and luckily, he lived in an apartment right in the city.

Even though you had made the decision to keep the baby and raise them alone if you had to, you did feel as though Jungkook deserved to at least know so that he could make his own decision. That’s why you had been standing in front of his door for the better part of 10 minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the damn door.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the front door flew open, almost making your heart beat out of your chest.

“Are you the delivery woman?” A tall, broad shoulder man asked and you shook your head as you lowered your hand.

“No. I’m actually looking for Jeon Jungkook,” you replied.

“Ah, he’s inside,” the man told you. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, waiting until the man had stepped aside before you walked inside and slipped off your sandals.

“I’m Jin, Jungkook’s roommate,” Jin introduced himself as he shut the front door.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you said.

“Wait, you play tennis right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded.

“I though you looked familiar!” Jin exclaimed, making you laugh. “What are you doing here to see Jungkookie?”

“Uh, I’m just,-”

“Hey hyung, was that the food?” Jungkook asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, walking over to the front door before freezing in his spot when he saw you. “Y/N, hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand and waving a little.

“What are you doing here?” He wondered as he paced over to you.

“I’m sorry for just popping up like this but I needed to talk to you,” you stated seriously as you looked at him and although you could tell from the raising of his brow that he was confused, he turned to look at Jin.

“Can you give us a second hyung?” Jungkook requested and Jin nodded.

“It was nice meeting you Y/N,” Jin smiled and you nodded to him before he walked away and stepped into another room next to the one that Jungkook had come out of. Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook looked at you again.

“Do you want to come sit down?” He offered, gesturing to the couch.

“Sure, thanks,” you murmured as you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the edge and Jungkook sat himself down next to you.

“So, how have you been?” He wondered. “It’s been like three months since the French Open right?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been ok,” you shrugged. “Just getting ready for the Korea Open.”

“Oh, you’re competing in that?”

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” he smiled and you couldn’t help the way that your cheeks warmed up at the praise.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “What about you, how have you been?”

“Good, good, can’t complain,” he said. “Just been working a lot but that’s it really.”

“Still doing photography?”

“Yeah, that’s what helps pay my half of the bills,” Jungkook laughed. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to ask me about photography though.”

“I didn’t,” you giggled awkwardly. “So, do you remember the night of the French Open, when we spent the night together?”

“Don’t I?” He smirked. “I was a little miffed that you left without saying goodbye but I figured that the whole “drunken one night stand” thing wasn’t typical for you.”

“It’s not and I’m sorry for that, by the way,” you apologized. “I kind of panicked when I woke up.”

“I get it, don’t worry about it,” he waved his hand dismissively. “But why are you asking if I remember that night?”

“Well, um, I kind of...maybe....might’ve gotten pregnant that night,” you revealed.

“Yeah right,” he laughed loudly. “Be serious Y/N.”

“That’s the terrifying thing Jungkook, I am being serious,” you insisted. “I’m pregnant.” The smile slowly slipped off of Jungkook’s face as he realized that you weren’t joking, and you watched as he abruptly stood up from the couch and began to pace the length of the living room.

“What the fuck?” He muttered. “We used a condom.”

“It had to have broken.”

“You’re a woman that plays sports, wouldn’t you be on birth control?”

“I haven’t been in a committed relationship in two years and I don’t do the whole “one night stand” thing, remember?” You explained.

“You literally disappeared on me and had me wondering if the whole night that we spent together even fucking happened and then suddenly, you show up and tell me that you’re pregnant,” he huffed, pausing his pacing in order to look at you. “I’m just supposed to accept this?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in and it’s out of nowhere,” you began. “It only takes one time though. So yes, I am pregnant and you’re the father. I thought you deserved to know.”

“So does that mean you’re going to keep it?” He questioned and you nodded your head.

“Yes, I am.”

“I don’t think I can be a father right now Y/N,” he sighed, resuming his pacing. “I just graduated from university and I’m up to my eyeballs in fucking debt that I only just started paying back and I’m only 23! I can’t be anyone’s father at 23!”

“Look, you don’t have to be involved,” you said and he stopped in his tracks. “I only came here to tell you. I can raise the baby on my own if I have to.”

“And what, I’m left to be the big bad guy who isn’t in his own kid’s life?”

“Any decision that you make going forward is your own,” you told him. “I didn’t want you to find out somewhere else because I am going to have to go public with my pregnancy eventually, and I didn’t want to keep the baby from you if you did want to be involved. I just wanted to tell you so that you could make an informed decision, that’s all.”

Just then, a door opened and Jin walked back into the living room.

“Hey Jungkook-ah, Taehyung said that he wants to go out for dinner so I canceled takeout, that ok?” Jin asked and it took Jungkook a few seconds to focus before he looked over at his hyung.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jungkook agreed easily.

“I should get going,” you suddenly said, getting up from the couch and reaching into your purse, pulling out a card before walking over to Jungkook and handing it to him. “This has my number and the address of where I’m staying for the next few weeks on it. Take all of the time that you need to think things through and then let me know.”

“Alright,” he replied and you gave him a small, closed mouthed smile before walking to the front door and letting yourself out.

......................................

“Y/N’s pregnant,” Jungkook confessed, two bottles of soju deep into dinner, which caused both Jin’s and Taehyung’s eyes to widen. “And I’m the father.”

“Tennis legend Y/N L/N?” Taehyung asked for confirmation and Jungkook nodded.

“That one.”

“How the hell did you hook up with her?” Jin laughed.

“Met her at the French Open, we talked for a little bit, and then went back to my hotel room,” Jungkook replied. “I woke up the next morning and she was gone so I didn’t think much of it. It was just a one night stand, you know?”

“Is that why she showed up and why you’ve had a bottle of soju in your hands since we got here?” Jin wondered and Jungkook nodded again.

“Yep.”

“Well, are you gonna be involved?” Jin asked.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, yelping when Jin reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“What the hell do you mean, you’re not sure?” Jin scoffed. “You can’t just have a child out in the world that you don’t know.”

“Wait hyung, just because Jungkook consented to sex doesn’t mean that he consented to having a baby,” Taehyung pointed out.

“He consented to the possibility of having a baby when he didn’t protect himself and wrap his dick up,” Jin shot back.

“Actually, I did but it broke,” Jungkook muttered before taking another gulp of soju. “It’s not like I don’t want to be there though. In fact, my first instinct is to call her and tell her that I’ll be there for whatever she needs.”

“What’s stopping you then?” Taehyung questioned.

“She’s just...she’s one of the biggest athletes in the world and she’s gonna go down in history as one of the greats while I’m just a 23 kid who doesn’t even know where my life is going. She has it all together and she doesn’t really need me. Hell, she might even be better off without me.”

“It’s not about if she needs you or not though, it’s about you being there for your child,” Jin told him.

“She said that she could raise the baby alone if she had to,” Jungkook mentioned.

“Just because she can, it doesn’t mean that she should have to,” Jin stated and for some reason, that sentence stuck with Jungkook as he swallowed down the rest of the soju that was in the bottle.

......................................

A few days after you showed up to his apartment, Jungkook couldn’t get you or the baby out of his mind. He never expected to be in this situation at only 23 years old but the more that he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t completely...afraid of it like he first thought he was.

Sure, he somewhat freaked out when you first told him and then went into catatonic shock afterwards but the more that he thought about it, the easier it became for him to warm up to the idea.

Jungkook always wanted kids and even though the two of you weren’t married and weren’t a traditional couple by any means, he knew that you could be a good mother. You were determined, hardworking, and passionate and those were all qualities that he admired in a person. He figured that if he were going to have an unexpected baby with anyone, then why not it be you?

He was also a person that believed in fate and destiny. If he managed to get you pregnant despite the two of you using protection and you still chose the keep the baby even before knowing if Jungkook was going to be involved or not, it all had to be a part of some larger plan that neither of you were privy to.

In the end, that was the thought that he decided to put trust in and that led to him finding the card that you had given him, dialing your number.

“Hello?” You answered a little breathlessly.

“Y/N, it’s Jungkook,” he said. “Did I call at a bad time?”

“Not at all, I was hitting the ball around with my coach,” you chuckled. “That’s why I’m out of breath.”

“Ah ok,” he nodded. “Well, I just wanted to call you because I’ve been thinking a lot about you and the baby, and I’ve decided that I want to be involved in their life.”

“Really?” You gasped softly.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t just let you raise them by yourself when you didn’t create them by yourself,” he sighed.

“I don’t want you to feel forced though, Jungkook,” you explained. “I know that this is a weird situation but I don’t want you to resent me or worse, the baby. I meant it when I said that I can do this own my own if need be.”

“Just because you can do it on your own, doesn’t mean that you should,” Jungkook pointed out, echoing what Jin had told him and you just smiled softly to yourself. “You’re gonna have to be patient with me though, because I don’t have the slightest idea of how this whole parenting thing goes.”

“That makes two of us,” you giggled. “But we’ll figure it out together, ok?”

“Alright,” he agreed.

“I have my first doctor’s appointment in three days, on Thursday and you are welcome to come if you want,” you offered.

“You haven’t had a doctor’s appointment yet?”

“I couldn’t get one in the States before I had to leave to come here for the Open so I just figured that I’d wait,” you told him.

“Oh ok. Well, yeah,” he replied. “I’d love to come.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details, ok?”

“Ok. Bye Y/N,” he said.

“Bye Jungkook,” you smiled before hanging up the phone. As Jungkook pulled his phone away from his ear, he couldn’t help but to feel oddly at ease about the whole situation. He felt deep down that everything would be ok, and he just hoped that it actually turned out that way as well.

......................................

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#bts #bangtanarmynet #bts reactions #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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limerental · 3 years

Text

ficletvember 2021 - day 23

geralt & roach, contains several animal deaths (roachs) and a fair bit of unelaborated horse specific vocabulary because I am but a little horse girl the same as geralt

The mare snorted at the sound of his voice but could not lift her head to look or her body to flee, her limbs quivering in the tangle of brambles she had caught herself in. Her tack was ornamental and hung with strips of leather braids and brass baubles, and her chest heaved slick with foam beneath the Elven breastcollar.

Her rider, a grey-haired elf, lay dead in the next furrow of a gully, innards still steaming. The mare was lucky that kikimora had a poor sense of smell, because the creatures also had a taste for horsemeat. But the kikimora was dead now, severed claws dangling from his belt as proof of the kill. The mare was lucky that the Witcher thought to track her frantic hoofprints rather than assume she had run back to civilization.

He spoke to the mare in Elder, and her ears flicked back and forth. Jagged brambles cut into the arch of her neck and trembling belly. She was a rich chestnut, though it was hard to tell so darkened by sweat, and a crooked blaze crossed the fine bones of her face.

Two weeks ago, he left his own mount, Roach, in the care of a blacksmith, the ligaments in her left hind at last proving too stiff to keep sound on the road. She had been a dark bay, the sort that looked quite black except for a brush of cinnamon on her muzzle and flank and had had long, unruly whiskers and the soft fuzz of a mustache in winter. Each evening for years, he had slathered a poultice on her left hind and wrapped it, but a horse's body could only outrun inevitable lameness so long.

"Hush," said the Witcher and ducked close with his knife to carefully cut loose the worst of the brambles. She lurched up to stand the moment she was free, a good sign, and he felt out each limb for heat or damage and found only minor abrasians. She turned back to watch him with flared snorts of her nostrils but did not shy away, and when he lay his hand on the ridge of her face, she nudged him, flexing her neck.

"Come now, Roach," he said, and the mare followed.

The farmer loaned him the flaxen mare, apologizing profusely for the supposed error that cost the Witcher his chestnut mount.

He had been hired to slay wolves beyond the farmer's fields and found a den of feral direwolves instead, a good deal larger and more dangerous. And much faster. Not faster than his Roach, of course, but such speed through the uneven furrows of a plowed field, pockmarked with badger holes, carried the risk of a leg caught and broken. She had always been a flighty thing, a poor choice for a Witcher's mount, throwing him the moment that danger snapped too close to her heels.

For a long while after, he would recall clearly the streaming banner of her red mane as she swept across the round of the field, like a ripple of fire against the grey sky, and when most of the direwolves had scattered into hiding, he hiked out into the open field to kneel beside her to feel out the shattered break in her cannon bone.

He covered her eyes and bled her with the press of his sharpest dagger, her last wheezing grunts fading quiet.

The farmer swore he had not known of the danger, but direwolves would have been a pricier contract. Now, the cost was higher still, as the Witcher rode out a second time on the borrowed mare to hunt down the surviving creatures.

The flaxen mare had likely been sired by the farmer's heavy plowhorse, as she bore the same peachy coloring blushed to blonde paleness along her underside and had more stocky weight to her bones than most riding horses. She pinned her ears in foul-tempered distaste at being taken from the warmth of the barn, but when the Witcher caught the trail of the direwolves, she did not shy at the scent.

As was typical of his shit fortune, the direwolves were not acting of their own volition in terrorizing the farmer's flock but at the word of a pair of rogue mages. Even as the Witcher struck the head from one of them, the other disappeared through a portal.

He knew before he rode back the miles to the farmstead just where the mage had gone. If she had not slaughtered the children along with the farmer and his wife, he may have offered mercy.

"Well Roach," said the Witcher to the flaxen mare, "looks like you're stuck with me."

Roach colicked in the foothills of the mountains, the chill of winter and lightening air pressure leaving her sweating and pained, her eyes rolling white in her head.

It happened sometimes, just the way of things, but the Witcher was sorry for it all the same. Had she lived as a farmer's mare instead of his, Roach could have grown old teaching chubby grandchildren to ride, fed mounds of sugar from their small palms. Instead, the Witcher listened to her guts go still and silent as he rubbed soothing circles under her blonde forelock.

There was nothing to be done except ease her to sleep with the whisper of a sign as her body gave up.

Luckily, the past season had been prosperous enough to afford a new mount, or he would have had to make the climb toward Kaer Morhen on foot and without the convenience of an animal to carry his gear and provisions.

Unluckily, the local stock was limited. Between a sway-backed gelding and an old broodmare, he chose the mare for the strength of her legs, despite her tendency to kick with all her might when he least expected it.

The mare had grey age spots along the bones of her face, her plain bay coloring dulled by a thick winter coat. Despite her age, she was sure-footed and nimble on even the most treacherous parts of the Trail, though he dismounted often to ease the strain.

"Rest now, Roach," said the Witcher when they reached the keep, and in late winter, his suspicions that she was pregnant were proven true when she bagged up one evening and gave birth to a palomino filly, so pale she appeared white. The next evening, she passed in her sleep.

The Witcher slept in the barn so that her foal could live, fed goat's milk every few hours and bedded down warm in straw. The filly grew strong and mischievous, and in the spring, shed out to a brilliant gold.

He had the faint hope to keep the golden filly, but it would be many long years before she was able to carry him and longer still before she could manage the workload required of a Witcher's horse. She was a spirited thing and as sure-footed as her mother, and he delayed leaving for the Path well into spring to give her time to grow before she was weaned.

Her color and manner made her valuable enough, even for a weanling, and he traded her for a red roan mare with an ewe neck and smooth gaits. By her teeth, he guessed that she was far older than the five years the broker had claimed, but he preferred a mature mount anyhow.

He lay his hand on the palomino filly's mane, and she shook him off as she usually did.

"Goodbye, Roach," he said and took up the other's reins.

Roach's arthritic knees proved troublesome but held out more years than he expected. The Witcher had just begun to consider a replacement, when a contract found him rescuing a blood-red mare from the grasp of a griffin's claws.

The saddle saved her from worse injury than the gouges along her withers, and with proper care, they healed nicely. In the meantime, he rode his arthritic mare and ponied the other behind them. The mares came to be fond of one another, spending their breaks grooming the crests of their necks and sleeping beside one another at night.

The Witcher was almost loathe to part them, but he could not afford the upkeep of two horses. He found an old farmer with acres of empty pasture and paid him a healthy sum to take her in.

"You know," said the Witcher to the old roan mare as he pat the crest of her neck over the fence, "you're one of the lucky ones. Doubt anyone will put me out to pasture when my body starts falling apart. If I live that long. Doubt there will even be anyone to bury me."

This Roach had been good to talk to, her brown eyes gentle, tending toward nibbling at his sleeve while he spoke.

When he looked at her, he could recall all the others before, their coats and markings and mannerisms blurring with time.

Sometimes, the little griefs of this life cut more deeply than the largest ones.

He took his time walking back to where he had tied his new mare. She nickered as he approached, and the roan mare behind the pasture fence called to her, a long, high whinny that lingered in the air.

"Come along, Roach," said the Witcher as he scratched at the scars on her withers, and he mounted and rode on.

#my fic #the witcher #geralt

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

Text

Ashens (Part 23)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity.

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character,

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way,

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo.

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets.

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much.

He always held it down.

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan.

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to.

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it.

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons.

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler.

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours.

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short.

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family.

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family.

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again.

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down.

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized.

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders.

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now.

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips.

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead.

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body.

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly.

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?”

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior.

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling.

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously.

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin.

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here.

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends.

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date.

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did.

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home.

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him.

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.”

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine.

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue.

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away.

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate.

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t.

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that.

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that.

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him.

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor.

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy.

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon.

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here.

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip.

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy.

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious.

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+ + +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies.

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely.

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

+ + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past.

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone.

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe.

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible.

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible.

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all.

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right? At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom.

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters.

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror.

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels.

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades.

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight.

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use.

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes.

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted. Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad.

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act.

It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her.

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier. The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI.

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk.

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing.

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof.

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #tfatws fanfic #winter soldier

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svchengss · 3 years

Text

two halves | l.mh

PAIRING. mark lee x reader

GENRE. fluff, heavy angst

WARNINGS. major character death, grief

WORD COUNT. 2.4k

SUMMARY. right after his death, mark watches how you cope with the loss

A/N. i saw this one tiktok and it kinda inspired me to write this

// just to let you guys know, reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !! thank you for reading :D

white walls, white room.

mark scrunched his face, his eyelashes slowly fluttering open, the dark brown iris adjusting the size of the pupils due to the brightness of the walls reflected upon it. a soft groan vibrating from his throat, he assessed his surroundings where nobody or nothing else is present. he looked down to inspect his clothing, hoping that it would give him any clue of this room or space he’s in - an all white outfit. this scene looks exactly like the one in the movies where the characters realize they are dead. except this time, he really is.

THE REALIZATION.

the muffled sounds of cries and sobs rang through his eardrums, triggering a reflex to wake up from the state that he thought was a slumber. he is lying on the hospital bed with the light blue clothing piece, faint light illuminating the space where people are huddled up around him. he waved his right hand in the air to let them - who he later remembered as his family members and friends, know that his eyes are already open. nobody moved even the slightest, the atmosphere being very much dead, scent of medicine intoxicating his mind.

then he saw someone who he holds very dear to his heart - you, enter the hospital room, dropping onto her knees as soon as she saw his state of condition. in an instant, he shot up from his lying position and ran over towards the crying you, shoulders shaking and all. bringing his hands to hold you in his embrace, not even a glance spared by you brought a hundred and one questions to him. why didn’t anybody acknowledge him when he woke up? why can’t you feel his touch?

“mark lee. time of death, 10:23 pm,” the tall doctor with glasses rested on the bridge of his nose announced before leaving the room, holding the clipboard close to his chest. mark gauged the monitor screen next to the bed, the line indicating his heartbeat is no longer showing spikes going up and down - instead becoming a flat line, deafening beep present with it. then he sees himself still laying on the white sheets, eyes still closed and no signs of breathing evident. a surge of panic rushed through his veins.

this can’t be real.

mark rushed into the bathroom, a surprised gasp leaving his lips. his body is semi-transparent, the shape of the toilet bowl can be seen through his left shoulder. his body shakes with terror, slapping himself in the cheeks multiple times just to make sure that this whole fiasco is just a nightmare.

oh my god. no, this is real.

mark stood in the back of the crowd, witnessing the funeral of someone and that someone being him. of course, he’s never expected to get the sight of his own service. his mother is standing beside you, her hands rubbing circles onto your back in an attempt to calm your mourning state. you’re still looking ever so pretty, a black chiffon dress on your body with white pearl necklace on your collarbones and your wavy black hair hanging down your shoulders. not that anybody else would notice, it’s someone’s death after all.

“stay strong, y/n. he will always be in our hearts,” the same rhythm of sentence in tones full of pity being directed towards you. mark’s sister enveloped you into a warm hug despite the chilly atmosphere, whispering comforting words into your ears before getting into the family’s car. you’re not going back home, not yet when you still feel reluctant to let him go.

“why did you leave me?” the only coherent words from your hoarse voice can be heard. mark, who is crouching next to you, is holding his tears back. instead, he sends a sorrowful smile - not that you can see him anyway. is there any way to let you know of his presence?

“goodbye, love. i’ll see you tomorrow. i promise,” you dusted the back of your dress from any dirt or debris, leaving a rose on his tombstone. the thing is, he doesn’t want to part from you. and that’s why his figure is seated beside you in the cab. he grazed his thumb on your knuckles, making you feel tingles rushing through. you pushed the slight thought away, you must be tired to be feeling things.

you slowly opened the door to your apartment, you and mark’s to be exact. the whole house is making those memories make their presence in the back of your head again. the kitchen where you two baked cookies for christmas last year. the bedroom where you snuggled upon his chest, not wanting to start your day just yet. the piano where he sang those cheesy songs for you. the living room where you slow danced at 3 in the morning. his favourite mug resting on the countertop, probably will not be used again. this whole situation is too overwhelming for you. you feel weak.

with each day passing by, you didn’t even miss one without a visit to his resting lot. you would tell him stories of how your day went or something that you read which would made him ponder. the words carved on it are already etched onto your brain.

mark lee. a son, a brother and a loving partner.

the clock hanging on the grey wall has it’s arms stretched out to display the time - two in the morning. you can’t sleep just yet, not having any for the past few days even. dark circles are appearing around your eyes, not yet recovered from the puffiness from all the crying. mark’s heart aches everytime he takes upon your state. he feels very guilty, not that death was his choice after all. it’s simply fate, a cycle of life, a destiny that every single creature on this planet will end up with.

you’ve taken the whole month off work, still feeling ever so helpless. in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you’ve stepped out of the apartment, the night before his passing perhaps? you’ve completely shut yourself out from any interactions - deactivating your social media, not accepting any calls. you just need time to heal.

as if you’re being controlled by some type of mastermind, you shoot up on the balls of your feet, pulling away from the couch. those images of you slow dancing with mark, hands in each other’s holds, your chin rested in the crook of his neck and being ever so engrossed in love are coming back more often now. you trudged to the vinyls arranged neatly on the shelf, picking one before placing it on the turntable - frank sinatra, one of his all time favourites.

holding your hands up at about his usual height, you start twirling around. you can almost see the outline of his smile, his features right in front of you. except, he is. he’s been observing your moves the whole night. mirroring your current position, as if you can really see him, it’s a miracle for him. overjoyed actually, he doesn’t realize the salty tears streaming down his cheekbones and so are yours.

“thank you for coming, dear. it’s a pleasure seeing you in what, weeks?” a laugh escaped the woman’s lips. you reciprocated her hug before stepping into the living room. it’s been a long time since you’ve been here, was it in january? mrs. lee had invited you over for a simple dinner, checking up on how you’ve been. you can see that the family is still struggling over his passing, the way his sister’s eyes are not twinkling as usual makes it hard to cover up the lie.

“you see, this was on his high school graduation day. he was very happy that day, doing all sorts of dances and stuff. finally escaping from hell as he said,” she giggled. she’s been displaying all sorts of memoirs to you, photo albums and photographs scattered on the wooden floor. to be honest, you’ve never seen these before. all smiles mark lee, easy to notice among the crowd. not that he’s changed, he’s still that boy now. mark just sat on the couch - his favourite spot, observing the throwback session going on. if he’s still here, his sister for sure is going to tease the hell out of him.

“he told us so much about you, you know? as if everything reminds him of you, that boy is lovestruck. really,” that sudden confession made your tongue dry, unable to find a perfect response. you were really that special to him.

“drive safe honey, you can come over whenever you want. you know you’re always welcome here, right?” mrs. lee handed you the small box filled with some things you’re going to keep. she kissed both of your cheeks, mr. lee standing behind her giving you a small wave. a small smile crept up onto your face before igniting the engine, turning your wheels out of the housing area.

the netflix show is playing on the television, the faint voices of the characters playing in the background. you’re sitting on the floor, flipping through the photo journal you two decorated throughout your one year of relationship. you can see his little scribbles and doodles, often a little dinosaur symbolising your always grumpy personality.

in one photo, a golden birthday hat is nicely placed on your head with him kissing your right cheek. you remember clearly, a surprise party for you last year. in the following ones, they are mostly candid shots - you blowing out the candles while he looks at you full of love, him eating a portion of your dish while you pout your lips. you would say it was the night of your life, spending it with the guy who stole your heart.

the next page of the journal is a shot of mark taking a photo of you in the park. you suppose it was taken by donghyuck? that one picture of you was stuck as his lock screen wallpaper for a while, you remembered getting so embarrassed over it. mark would give you the same excuse every time you questioned him about it, implying that the sight of you would light up his whole day. cheesy really, but that was what remained as memories of the past, tied neatly in your heart.

the rain trickling against your window eventually made you doze off to wonderland, creating the perfect chance for mark to browse through the journal in your hands. carefully lifting it from yours so that you won’t be stirred from your sleep, he settled down in the space beside your sleeping figure. slowly turning the pages, he smiled fondly at each photo holding a thousand moments that can’t be recreated ever again. some of them would make him giggle. he kneeled down slightly to place a soft kiss on your forehead, making you squirm a little due to the faint touch.

“give him a chance. i’m not saying that you should forget mark but it’s been months, you should live up a little,” yerim’s voice sounding concerned from the other end of the line. perhaps she’s right but you just need more time. but how much longer? you’re afraid you yourself have no specific answer for that enquiry.

you’ve been feeling better by now, welcoming people back into your life and carrying out the same daily routine of yours. going to work, buying groceries, going to the drive-thru and whatnot. of course, the void is still obvious - coming back home to an empty atmosphere instead of him waiting for you on the couch, sometimes dozing off, no more weekend cafe runs. but at least you’re trying your best. you bid your goodbyes before tapping the red button, ending the call. plopping the device onto the mattress, you stared at the white ceiling, deep in your own thoughts.

you should give him a chance. live up a little.

yes, you should.

getting hold of the phone and immediately opening the messages app, you searched for jungwoo’s number. he’s been trying to take you out for dinner for a while now. you still remember his exact words, whenever you’re ready he’s always there, waiting for you. you’re not really sure about that particular question but it wouldn't hurt to give it a try, right?

typing in the words ‘okay, sure’ is already a pressure for you but you still proceeded to press the send button. glancing at the clock showing the time, the notification ping redirected your focus onto the screen.

jungwoo: cool, is tomorrow night okay with you? i’ll drive, of course :)

tomorrow night. okay, tomorrow night.

an elegant red gown is wrapping your curves perfectly, a thin necklace with the seashell charm around your neck while your lips is decorated with the dark red tone, highlighting your poise appearance. hearing the doorbell ring, you tidied up the dresser as your eyes landed onto the picture frame holding a photo of you and mark. a sad feeling crept into your heart but you pushed it away, opening the door to reveal jungwoo in a black and white tuxedo.

you would say that the dinner went well, none of his questions or chatters crossing any borderline. he’s just so polite, even you are amused. feeling comfortable with his presence, the small gap in between is eventually closing down since you’ve learned so much about each other during the other few dates. one night completely changed it for you, him offering you a dance at some event he’s bringing you with.

you observed that his moves are slightly similar to mark’s - not completely of course, mark’s is very unique and very…mark-ish. for the first time ever in the recent turn of events, you flashed a genuine smile. one that is not just for show, one that only comes out when you’re truly elated, one that you only manage to give to certain. mark just observed the scene from a distance, admiring how you’ve managed to find the spark of happiness you once lost.

alas, mark saw his other half become full again with another, her eyes twinkling with the same joy but this time, it’s not him in the reflection.

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donald4spiderman · 3 years

Text

Sweating, And A Lesson On Self-Worth

masterlist

Summary: Spencer finds himself falling for his NAT (new agent training) defensive tactics coach.

Pairing: SR x Fem!Reader *described as petite to give the illusion of assumed vulnerability when IRL she’s a badass— no other specific physical details are mentioned*

Category: Fluff

TW: Mentions of body image, general CM talk, mentions of fighting/grappling/wrestling, small age gap (reader is 28 & reid is 22)

concept inspired by @sierraraeck’s fic “Bad Liar” about Morgan training Spencer. I love wrestling so I wanted to do one about a badass female combat coach/agent.

REBLOG!

When Spencer and the rest of the trainees are ushered into the fitness center on their second day at the academy, he almost shits himself. He’s well aware of the physical demands being in the FBI requires, and he’s been dreading the PFT (Physical Fitness Test) since he applied.

There are hundreds of men and women huddled in the middle of the room, anticipating the orientation, and Spencer feels his palms sweat before he’s even started working out. The majority of the trainees are football players, wrestling’s, and weight lifters— he can tell by their muscular build and general atmosphere of strength and confidence.

SSA Jesse Fallon introduces their defensive tactics coach for the next twenty weeks— a petite but athletic woman. She’s dressed in a gray t-shirt and flexible khaki pants— Spencer would be lying if he said she didn’t look gorgeous, even in the bland attire.

“I’m SSA and defensive tactics coach (Y/N) (Y/L/N).” She introduces herself, giving a warm smile to the crowd. “I’ve been an SSA for five years and the head coach of this portion of the academy for two. This is my third official wave of trainees— and believe me— I won’t be going easy on any of you.”

Light laughter disperses through the crowd, and Spencer wears an uneasy look on his face.

“Today, I’ve prepped stations for each of you to cycle through for the next three hours. Agent Rivera is monitoring the weapon defense; Agent Glover is in charge of the takedowns; And I’ll be handling hand-to-hand combat and grappling. You’ll spend an hour at each station, run a mile at the end, and then you’re done for the day. Sound good?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Choruses through the crowd.

SSA (Y/N) clasps her hands together, “Alright, you know your groups. Split up!”

Spencer’s assigned to the takedown station first. Agent Glover’s criticisms are primarily nonconstructive, and Spencer struggles with apprehending and cuffing his more robust and much more muscular partner on the floor. He’s never trained this hard for anything in his life, physically, speaking. He’s half-dead within the first hour, and he dreads having to do this two more times.

His next stop is with Agent Rivera, who’s much kinder to Spencer than his prior. Reid is better at disarming his opponent, but his long limbs flail wildly due to his incoordination— he’s trying his best, but he sees the way everyone else giggles at him. It’s a blow to the chest that leaves him defeated more than any gunshot could.

The last hour is spent working at SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s station. She commands the attention of the entire group so naturally, despite being considered a rookie, she has an intimidating amount of knowledge.

“How many of you are wrestlers or judokas?” About sixty percent of the group raises their hand, and Spencer scans around for who might have the strength to kill him with one blow.

“Good,” She smiles. “This will come naturally to you, then. Now, a head-and-arm throw most likely won’t work in the field— so, sorry, judokas. However, double legs, body locks, and blast-doubles are constantly used to take down an unsub with minimal injury to the agent. Even someone as short as me can use leverage to grapple and control a much taller person.” (Y/N) scans the crowd of trainees for a moment before pointing directly at Spencer.

“You, come here.” She commands, and Spencer waddles nervously up next to her on the mat. “This is...”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing she’s asking for his name. “S-Spencer Reid.”

“Hi, Spencer.” She smiles. “How tall are you?”

“Six foot two.”

“Spencer has the advantage of almost a whole foot of height against me. But, I can use his higher center of gravity to tip him over more easily. We do this a lot in wrestling— being low to the ground and agile is important.”

(Y/N) firmly plants her hands on Spencer’s shoulder, moving him so that he’s turned to the side. “This move is called a modified blast double— it prioritizes attacking the ankles and knees rather than the knees and abdomen.”

She leans in closer to Spencer, “Don’t post your wrist out when you fall.” She whispers in his ear, sending chills down his spine. “Keep your neck tucked too.” Her breath is warm and minty, and Spencer almost forgets that he has 30 other people watching him.

“I’m going to simulate an active attack with Spencer. Doing this move in a wrestling match is much more controlled than against a rogue criminal playing by their own rules. They might have a melee or close-range weapon like a knife or hammer on them, so it’s important to make this move when the best opportunity strikes.”

“Spencer’s going to run at me and attempt to land a punch to my face.” She gives him a nod, and he chambers over to her.

Swiftly crouching lower to the ground, she launches herself towards him, gripping the back of his ankles and pushing her shoulder into his knees, and suddenly he’s flying back onto the mat. She follows through, straddling Spencer’s hips and covering his movements with an arm under his neck.

He’s out of breath as he watches the beautiful SSA leaning above him. His head is slightly sore from the impact, but overall he feels... invigorated.

“You never let your opponent fall onto the ground without covering them. Straddling your opponent allows you to keep them down while having full use of your fists.” She swings her leg off of Spencer, standing up. She reaches a hand out and quickly yanks him up.

“Find someone and drill that move. I’m coming around to help all of you.”

She gives Spencer a firm pat on his back, to which he blushes furiously, pulling his lower lip in between his teeth.

Spencer spent the rest of the hour getting slammed onto the mat over and over by various men and women. His entire shirt is soaked, and his breathing is so labored he thinks he’s going to faint. SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N) might have appeared at ease earlier in the day, but she wasn’t kidding when she promised she would work them to no end. Everyone was at the brink of death when they approached the last lap of their mile— Spencer at risk of passing out more than others.

The relief he feels after completing his tenth lap around the gym is euphoric. Trainees collapse onto the ground with exhaustion all around him.

“Great job today.” SSA (Y/N) compliments happily. “I appreciate all the effort you guys showed today. It better still be here in four months.” And with that, she excuses them, along with the agents monitoring each station.

Spencer’s one of the last agents to trickle out of the gym. His legs feel like jello when he walks, and his lungs burn.

He almost makes it past the threshold of the door before his name is called.

“Dr. Reid.” She beckons him over with a finger. “May I talk to you for a moment.”

Spencer nervously shuffles over. “Yes, SSA (Y/L/N)?”

“I applaud your effort at training today. I can tell you were working hard.” He blushes. “But I’ve been informed that the board is willing to wave all physical training requirements for your acceptance into the FBI.”

“Yeah... I-I uh figured they’d want me for my IQ only.” He jokes nervously, shrugging his shoulders. He knows it’s disrespectful not to look her in the eye, but she intimidates him too much.

She laughs, and it’s a sweet, joyful sound that Spencer can’t get enough of. She’s powerful and radiant— stealing attention from everyone else. “You’re charming, and your reputation precedes you.”

Charming? Since when has little Spencer Reid ever been charming? He smiles awkwardly, looking off to the side to hide his blush.

“You know, the forensics department wants their hands on the trainee with the chemistry doctorate, and the surveillance department wants the kid with eidetic memory, and word has it that you speak more than four languages, so everyone wants their fair share.”

“W-why are you telling me this?” Spencer asks, voice shy and barely above a whisper.

“Because,” she places a tender hand on his shoulder, “You need to carry yourself with more confidence, Spencer. I saw you— surrounded by all those athletes— it made you feel out of place. I get it.”

“How d-do you get it?”

“I was 23 years old when I became an SSA, surrounded by people two decades older than me. I felt like the office secretary— constantly getting pushed around by people I was afraid to upset. But the thing is, Spencer, you need to demand respect from other people. I’m not saying you need to be arrogant or be a bully, but you are one of— if not the most promising agent trainee— and you need to realize your self-worth.”

“I’m smart, I-I know that. But I’m not strong or athletic by any means.” He sighs, gripping the duffle bag slung across his shoulder tightly.

“That’s alright. You’re not going to be Kyle Dake overnight. But you can’t beat yourself up about it.” (Y/N) chuckles lightly.

Spencer thinks for a moment, “T-thank you... for uh saying all those nice things about me.”

“They're true.” She nods.

“I think I’ll continue with the defensive tactics training. I could um use it.” Its partially true, but he’s most inclined to stick around because of the kind and beautiful SSA that’ll be training him.

“Yay! That’s great, Spencer.” She cheers, wrapping him in a hug that’s a little too friendly to be professional. He accepts despite being drenched in sweat.

Her arms are wrapped tightly around Spencer, and she pats him on the back twice before pulling away like a proud mentor would. He can’t decide if (Y/N) would be a better girlfriend or a better teacher. If she would, he’d prefer for her to be both. He’d give her all he had to offer if she’d allow him.

He doesn’t recognize the smile that plays on her lips, and it’s a foreign feeling for the aggressive and focused SSA. She hasn’t felt something like this in a while, especially not for a nerdy trainee named Dr. Spencer Reid.

“Hit the showers.” She teases. “You stink.”

Spencer nods furiously, “Y-yeah, of course. Thank you, again, SSA—“

“Just call me (Y/N).”

“T-thank you, (Y/N).” He smiles, scurrying out of the gym and into the hallway as giddy as ever.

(Y/N) knows she can’t pursue this— at least, not right now. She’ll give it a few years to let him settle in the FBI (his acceptance is inevitable) if she can be patient for that long. All she knows is that eventually, she wants the awkwardly adorable boy to be hers— and she wants to be his.

i’m so proud of this fic but sry i got carried away talking about wrestling i love it sm

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #sub!spencer #criminal minds fanfiction #dr reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid masterlist #baby!spencer #bau

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Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Ch. 23 of 27: Promises

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHOOSE ME INSTEAD MASTERLIST

A/N: I’m back! Most of my exams are done and I’m finally back with a new chapter. Before you read it, I recommend rereading Chapter 22. It’ll be easier to understand this chapter. Short reminder: in the german version of the books, “Narcissa” is spelled “Narzissa”. So please don’t be confused about the spelling. Have fun! <3

CHAPTER 22

Words: 3.4k Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Reader, post war Warnings: angst, smut

He appeared seemingly out of nowhere.

For days, you had avoided him. Sat as far away as possible from him in class, stayed close to Ginny and Hermione, didn’t give him a chance to even approach you. And now, way past curfew you met him on a random hallway near the library.

The sight of him made your heart jump. His eyes widened. The two of you stood in front of each other, quietly waiting for the other to make a move. You took all of him in and tried your best not to wince when you realized how sickly he looked. It was your fault.

Draco spoke first. “What are you doing here?” His voice was strained.

You hadn’t heard his voice in what felt like weeks and you took a moment to process it. “Owlery,” you said finally. “I was on my way to the Owlery. I need to send a letter to my parents.”

He nodded. “I heard what happened. I’m sorry.”

You looked down. It was strangely comforting to hear it. “I know.” You wanted to say more but no words came to mind. None that would fit your current situation anyways. “I should leave,” you mumbled and straightened your back. When you walked past him, you smelt a whiff of his cologne and held your breath. You didn’t dare to look at him and resumed your way towards the Owlery.

“We need to talk.”

He had raised his voice and the words echoed in the dark hallway. You hesitated. “Draco …” Then you shook your head. “No.”

“Y/N, you owe me.” You heard his footsteps. “You owe me an explanation.”

It was then that you finally turned around. “I gave you one.”

Draco scoffed. “You gave me shit.”

“I gave you what you deserve,” you shot back. Each word struggled to come out. Lies, so many lies. “I told you, I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be with you. We took this too far.”

You didn’t look him in the eyes but there was no reason to. The pain in his voice showed you that the words had their desired effect: “I still don’t believe you.”

“That’s not my problem,” you said. All the exhaustion from the past week suddenly rushed back and you felt your eyes beginning to burn. You wiped over your face, trying to keep your composure. “Draco,” you began and then you noticed something in his hand. An all too familiar bottle. Ginny had the same one on her nightstand. “What –”

Draco smiled bitterly and held up the sleeping medicine. “Thanks to you.”

“Screw you, Malfoy.” You turned around and left.

“You have to eat something,” Ginny gently touched your shoulder and you pulled the blanket tighter around your shoulder. She sighed but her hand stayed on your skin, warmth radiating from it. “Please, you have barely –”

“I’m not hungry.” You cleared your throat. It felt so raspy. Speaking hurt.

“Come on, Y/N,” Ginny tried again. “It’s still early. If we leave now, no one will even see us. You don’t even have to get dressed. You can go in your pajamas.” You heard the smile in her voice. “How much fun would that be.”

A smile tugged on your lips but you couldn’t bring yourself to move a muscle. You were tired. So tired.

“Oh, so we’re using last names again?” Draco followed you down the hallway with long strides. “Fine, Y/L/N.”

Your face burned, not with anger but with shame. His nightmares had returned and it was all your fault. The rational part of your brain told you that you weren’t responsible for his suffering. The break up was merely one tiny puzzle piece, one tiny thing that added up to all the drama and hurt in his life, but still it could have been avoided. The pure knowledge of that drowned out that part of your brain. And what was even worse – you couldn’t change it now. Couldn’t help him. Not now. Not ever.

“What do you want from me?”, the coldness in your voice frightened yourself.

“What I want from you?”, Draco sneered behind you. “I want you to stop lying!”

Astoria was gorgeous. You had noticed it before but now you saw her in an entirely different light. When bitter words spilled out of you, a desperate attempt to cut through her skin and into her heart, her expression changed but her beauty stayed.

Their wedding photos will be on the front page of The Daily Prophet, you realized and the thought flipped your stomach. She’ll look perfect and happy and he … will he smile?

You whirled around and nearly bumped into him. “When will you get this into your head, Malfoy? I’m not lying to you!” Every word was accompanied by a tap of your finger against his chest. Draco caught your wrist and held it still. It was unexpected and his tight grip hurt. You let out a sharp hiss.

“Merlin, when will you ever stop this charade?” Draco stared at you. The disgust in his eyes send shivers down his spine. You had seen this look before on him but it had never been directed at you. “All you ever do is lie! You lie to your parents, your friends, everyone who you say means something to you receives nothing from you except lies and deceptions. It seems to be the only thing you’re truly good at, the only thing that –”

“Shut up!”, you shrieked. You tried to pull away from him but he held tightly on to your wrist.

You read the letter over and over and over until you memorized every last word of it. Your fathers handwriting was shaky, stretched letters, barely readable as if he wrote them in a hurry. Lines were smeared, dots missing, such a strange contrast to the neatly put-together man.

They found Alissa. Your sister. She was alive and well, hiding out in Southern Germany with two other Death Eaters that fled the country after the Battle of Hogwarts. They changed their appearances and names and got low-paying jobs in local muggle stores. You almost snorted when you read it. Your sister, the same one who believed muggles should be enslaved, now served them? Oh, what bitter irony this life kept in store for us.

Two days after the letter reached you, her face appeared on The Daily Prophet. You let out a sharp breath. It’s been years since you had last seen her face and time had not been treating her kindly. Sunken cheeks and hair that hung down in greasy strands – your hands started to shake. There was barely any resemblance between the woman that stared at you with blank eyes and the sister you grew up with.

“LAST DEATH EATERS FINALLY FOUND”, the headline said. You skimmed over the words but folded the newspaper and put it away once they got to a gruesome retelling of the Cleansing of Edinburgh.

Narzissa had kept her promise and you hated her for it.

You felt the stares of your classmates burning holes into your cloak and Hermione reached for your hand to squeeze it tightly. When you looked up however, your eyes were drawn to him.

He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. You wondered if he knew. If he had figured it out.

Tears burned in your eyes. He’s right, you thought, he’s right about all of it. Draco abruptly turned his head; a clanking sound was heard at the end of the hallway. You barely noticed it.

“I have to stay away from you,” you whispered and he looked back at you. “Why can’t I stay away from you?” Your voice broke.

“You know why,” Draco replied. “It’s why my nightmares returned too.”

“Draco …” His name rolling from your tongue – it felt so right.

“We need one another.” He came closer. “We … whatever it was that we had, it worked.”

You let out a shuddering breath. “It didn’t.”

His gaze hardened again. “Stop fucking lying,” he hissed and suddenly, he let go of your hand and pressed you up against the wall. You yelped.

“Stop forcing something that isn’t there.” He was close, so damn close. “You have a wild imagination, Malfoy.”

He scoffed. “Look at me and say this again.” He grabbed you by your chin and forced you to look at him. “I said, look at me,” he growled. “Tell me it was all in my imagination. Every word, every touch, every confession late at night,” he glared at you. “Tell me, it meant nothing. Tell me, you didn’t feel it. Tell me, you don’t still dream of me. That you don’t long for my hands on your body, for the way my lips made you scream my name.”

His face was only inches away from yours. His smell was intoxicating; you could barely concentrate. The touch of his hand burned through your clothes. Naturally, instinctively, your hips rolled against his. His eyes glistened at the movement. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, it was all part of my imagination.”

You stared at him and with every passing second, you drowned in the grey of his eyes, drowned in the storm of them. “I hate you.”

When your lips met, lightning struck.

“What are you reading?”

Theo and Blaise dropped down onto the grass and startled you.

“Potions,” you replied and Blaise raised his eyebrows at your obvious lie. You had made no attempt to hide the letter that laid on top of your potions textbook. Suddenly, you tensed up, remembering the last time when the boys came to look for you. “Is everything okay with him?”

“With whom?”, Blaise asked.

“Draco, idiot.” Theo rolled his eyes. “He’s … fine,” he then said.

“More or less,” Blaise mumbled and the two of you glared at him.

“We came to give you this.” Theo stretched out his arm, holding a piece of paper. You took it. An unfamiliar name and address was written in Theo’s sloppy handwriting. You looked at him, visibly confused.

“She can help you with your sister,” Theo said. You blinked.

“The trial,” Blaise explained. “My mother knows her and she helped in quite a few Death Eater trials so far.”

You read the name again, wondering how you had never heard of that woman. “Death Eaters belong in Azkaban,” you finally stated. “My sister is no exception.” The words burned in your throat.

The boys sighed. “A lifetime in Azkaban will not help her. People like your sister need a chance of rehabilitation,” Theo said.

“Do they?”, you asked with furrowed brows.

“After a considerable amount of time spent in Azkaban,” Blaise added. “Don’t get us wrong, she needs to be punished. Obviously. But prison alone will not help her change her world views.

For the first time, you realized how little you knew about the two Slytherins. You had heard of Blaise’s mother, a woman who was famous for her many marriages. And you remembered the day, Theo’s father escaped Azkaban. But you knew nothing beyond that. You wondered how much pain and heartbreak these two young men carried inside their hearts.

It felt right.

He felt right. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, his hands grabbing you roughly. There was nothing sweet about this kiss. Nothing loving or calm. You felt his desperation in the way his hands teared at your blouse, felt his pain when he guided you to the nearest door in the hallway.

It was an unlocked classroom and the two of you didn’t break the kiss when you stumbled inside of it. He closed the door with his foot before lifting you up on a table. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer. His lips traveled down to your neck and you threw your head back as he began to suck on the skin. A whimper escaped you when his teeth scraped against your skin.

Draco’s hands moved quickly. As if he had whispered a spell, the buttons on your blouse sprung open. You moaned softly when his hands explored your body like he’d do so for the first time. Flashbacks from your first night flooded your mind and for a moment, you were back in the hotel room. The memories mixed together with your current reality and you could no longer differentiate between the two. You whimpered at the way, Draco caressed you, pulled you into hungry kisses and when his fingers sunk inside of you, you almost screamed.

Draco knew by now which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering, begging mess. You held on to him, your fingers clawing in his back, knowing you’d leave him with red streaks all over it. He pumped into you, while whispering in your ear. His thumb flickered over your clit and your breath grew more and more erratic.

An ache had begun to form in your stomach, growing stronger and stronger, and you begged for him not to stop. He chuckled and his hot breath against your cheek combined, made you moan his name.

“Come for me,” he growled. “Come for me, I want to hear you scream my name.”

You obeyed him.

You watched him during Potions. He sat next to Theo and the two boys worked quietly on their assignment. Draco’s fingers moved with precision and ease, cutting the ingredients, mixing them in. From time to time, he read over the instructions, his brows furrowing slightly. He showed no sign of uncertainty and when Slughorn walked past him, the professor nodded contently.

The scene reminded you of the beginning of this school year when you had to work together for the first time. After he rescued you from Ron’s insults. “I don’t ever need you to come to my rescue,” you had snarled at him and Draco’s response was to flirt with you during class. How confused you had been during those weeks. How utterly irritated when you had to admit to yourself that Draco Malfoy was not the one dimensional asshole you had always wanted him to be. Oh, how you wanted to go back in time to this exact moment.

“You’re staring at him again,” Hermione said.

Your eyes dropped down to the cauldron again as you kept stirring it. You felt the worried look of your friend but were too exhausted to say something back to her.

A few minutes later, you looked up again. Draco had stopped working. His hands still held a knife. A root remained untouched on the table. When your eyes met, his flickered with pain. You held your breath. What would happen if you just went over to him? Then Theo touched his arm and Draco turned to him, breaking the moment.

Draco didn’t give you a chance to calm down and catch your breath. You still rode out the last waves of your orgasm when you felt him pressed against your folds, hard and dripping. He pulled you into a hard kiss and entered you in one swift movement, stretching you in an almost painful way.

“Fuck,” he groaned and you bit down his lip. You moaned when he began to move, equally rough and desperate to the way he kissed you before.

“I love you,” you heard him mumble. “I love you so fucking much, I hate you for making me feel this way.” He thrusted into you relentlessly. You arched your back and his hands gripped you so tightly, you were scared it’d leave bruises in the morning.

You mumbled something against his lips but didn’t know whether it was a curse or a confession, all you felt was the way he pounded into you. Each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the sensation in your stomach growing stronger and stronger. Draco grabbed you by the neck and your eyes fluttered open. When they met his, you moaned at the lust in them and they darkened. Your legs started shaking; he knew you were close.

“You want to come again?”, he groaned.

“Yes, please,” you replied and he smirked; a smirk that sent shivers down your spine. Gods, how you had missed this expression on his face. You knew that in the years to come, you’d dream of the sight of him – like this, sweaty and wanting and desperate for your walls to clench around his cock.

“Then come for me,” he hissed. You let go and pleasure followed immediately. It washed over you and you were certain you blacked out there for a second. Your legs started shaking uncontrollably and you came with his name on your lips.

Draco followed shortly after. His hips stuttered and with a silent curse, he released himself inside of you.

��***

It was quiet. Draco had his hands behind his head as you rested your head on his chest. Your cloaks protected the two of you against the coldness radiating from the stones. His eyes were open, his mind restless.

Your fingers traced over his side and he shuddered at the soft touch. “I’m sorry,” you said, disturbing the peace. “I’m sorry, I can’t give you the answers you deserve.”

Draco swallowed. A few days ago, you had shattered his heart in the blink of an eye. But now, the fleeting touch of your fingertips mended it back together. Deep down, he sensed that it was only a temporary fix however. A tiny bandage on an open wound that would never stop bleeding – but he’d bleed out willingly if it meant he could hold you in his arms a little while longer.

“I would burn down the world for you,” Draco whispered. “I would hunt down whoever hurt you, if you’d only allow me. You hold my heart in your hands.”

You raised your head. A single tear rolled down your cheek and Draco reached to wipe it away. “I love you.”

Draco let out a shuddering breath. He had imagined a thousand different scenarios in which you confessed to him. In none of them did they feel like a dagger plunged in your heart.

“What I said that night was a lie.”

“I know.” He smiled sadly. “Allow me to love you back. Please.”

“No.” You shook your head. “I can’t.”

Draco sighed in frustration and stared back at the ceiling.

“Promise me to let this go.”

He scoffed. “I can’t let go of you.”

“Yes.” You sat up next to him. “Yes, you can. You must. Promise me.”

He looked at you. Merlin, how beautiful you were.

“If you truly love me, you will promise me and you will honor your promise.”

“You’re unfair,” he said softly.

“Slytherin blood runs through me.”

Draco chuckled. You leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips. “Draco, please.”

He promised.

***

Draco stared at the ring in his hands. A golden band with an emerald, encircled by diamonds. A stunning, timeless piece that belonged to his grandmother and would look beautiful on Astoria’s petite fingers.

His eyes flickered to the nightstand. The bag of candy from the weekend in Hogsmeade was almost empty. Two pieces remained. He didn’t touch them, couldn’t bring himself to eat them. When he did, there would be nothing left of you. There would be no physical reminder that you ever shared a part of his life. No photos of the two of you together, no notes, no forgotten T-Shirt or hair pins in his dorm. You had come into and vanished from his life without a single trace.

Draco gritted his teeth when the familiar emptiness began to rise inside of him. He looked back at the ring. It’d suit you. Green was your colour, Draco was sure of it. The time you wore his scarf proved it.

“It’s not too late yet.” Theo sat on his bed, arms crossed in front of his chest as he watched his friend. “You don’t have to do this. Contrary to your belief, you do have a choice.”

Draco closed his eyes. For a split second, he saw you and him, in the manor, laughing about something his mother had said. He saw you, barely covered by satin sheets, the morning sun hitting your face. He saw vacations, candlelight dinners, celebrations, your favorite flowers on the kitchen table, a shared closet, candy from Honeydukes. He saw happiness.

Draco opened his eyes and looked at Theo. “You know where Astoria is?”

***

CHAPTER 24

Choose Me Instead Masterlist Harry Potter Masterlist

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Tag List (Part 1): @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13, @pockitparks, @just-addicted-to-bangtan, @cuddlykoala101, @zpandaqueen, @marvelpeters, @natsiboo, @jjjmaybank, @justmesadgirl, @books-and-tings, @slytherinprincedracom, @katiaw2, @saintkore, @nctnight, @lifestragedy, @obxmxybxnk, @spideydobik, @ladylizzieofdarbyshire, @aspiring-ginger, @dracomalfoyswifey, @jpow345, @realistic-breadstick, @h-annahayy, @abbs-is-tired, @alwaysbeanunknownfan, @niallsarmveinstho, @is-this-a-febreze-commercial, @acciowilltolive, @spideysmcu, @sexytholland, @faangirl101, @donttellany1iusetumbler, @mendesmuffinsss, @lilxnvm, @kill-the-teen-memories, @darkusangelus, @p0gue420, @itsbebeyyy, @hesaidimcrazy, @jenniweaslee, @hpxpjo, @brisbubble, @xomaymay, @shitnstuffillregret, @serialkillme, @angel-tears15, @panicattheeverywherekid, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @disgraceisonfire, @nobleking, @tashii-blr, @ddaeing, @randogirlo-fando-main @sadgirlnumber92899, @captivateing, @bitchyegirl, @smiithys, @ninipoo1, @intheawks, @cherrylita, @nothanksnyla, @calpal-4ever, @dracosathenaeum, @belsandthings, @lifeasdreamgirl, @kiwi-sloan, @xdmx, @allaboutthatdrummer, @kvyenxay, @live-awkward, @babebenhardy, @bitchysweets-blog, @cravingmusic, @frau-moon, @ohissandhalasta, @noravirginia1994, @broken-but-beautiful-cassie, @lil-black-heart, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything,

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #astrids fics #choose me instead #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy

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