#I spent way too fucking long on those boots guys. but also they look sick as hell so Im keeping them have fun future me trying to draw them

[rivalkieran]

ok now heres the casualwear/poststory design for my good pal buddy flo :) he/she

#solis art #solisverse #florian quintana #trainer florian #I spent way too fucking long on those boots guys. but also they look sick as hell so Im keeping them have fun future me trying to draw them #its very important to me that both flo and kieran have fashion styles that make them look cool but they are still complete loser dorks

[lacefuneral]

hey what's up rather than recording like a 10 minute video that would be too long for Tumblr anyway I'm literally just gonna talking to my phone and have a dictate while I bitch about things. There's definitely gonna be typos and weird turns of phrase such as the nature of the medium.

OK so in the year 1982 there is a movie that came out called "making love". And when the movie screamed in theaters it began with a series of text disclaimers stating that there was homosexuality in the movie and that there was no explicit sex on scene but that viewers should take care  if that type of content upset them.  it makes me deeply sad to think about and the only way I can think to reconcile it in my mind is to think of those early 2000s disclaimers on fan fictions where it would be like "this has boys kissing don't like don't read."

 Anyway when it's screened in theaters apparently a ton of people walked out because they were disturbed by the homosexuality on the screen even with the disclaimer and the movie was a commercial flop after the first day or so.

 Now I was really curious about this movie because I heard about it in the celluloid closet. And when I went to look at modern reviews of it on letterbox,  it was still steadily bombing.  And most of the negative reviews were people mad that it was a romance movie? Which is like yeah it's a romance movie are you really gonna rate something negatively because of the genre. don't watch romance movies then idiot

The movie is bad by the way but not for the reasons the 1982 crowd thinks  also not what the people on letterbox think. it's a secret third thing – which is  that literally none of the characters are likable, and that the format of the film is deeply irritating.

 Anyway so I  boots up this movie and it's a story about a doctor named Zack who has been married for eight years to a woman named Claire. And they're both very career oriented so they haven't had a child yet but they do have plans to have one and they even have the name picked out. Which is like - bold fucking move.  Like you don't know for a fact that your child is going to be a boy so you could end up with a daughter named Rupert which I mean that's not the worst name in the world kinda fucks actually maybe.  But it's like do you not have any alternatives in mind?

and Zach occasionally will see gay men just kind of existing in public and he looks like he's gonna throw up but he's also like very clearly captivated by it.  so then he does this weird thing where he'll go to cruising spots and pick up spots for rent boys and he'll just kind of stare at the guys there. Like he doesn't talk to anyone. And like I understand that it's a very volatile time and you're married and all of that but if you're curious about the gay experience and gay people would you not just fucking talk to a gay person? Like he spent a good portion of the movie staring at other gay men like he's at a zoo.

also during this time he goes out at the same exact time every day and his wife knows that he's not at work but he doesn't provide any excuse or explanation for why he's gone so she's worried sick because she doesn't know what the fuck is happening with him. And obviously he's not gonna tell her the truth but come on dude at least come up with some sort of alibi or lie to tell her so that she's not worrying her self sick.  Like you've been married to the woman for eight years can you give her at least a small amount of comfort?

 Eventually he goes to work and he's filling in for another doctor and this guy walks in and he looks like Ashton Kutcher got hit with a giga chad beam. Like it looks like someone took the entire T supply  in the world and pumped it directly into this man's jawline.   actually since I'm doing this in Tumblr post format I can just show you with the dude looks like.

any guesses as to what this man's name is? Because you're going to get it wrong. His name is fucking Bart. You know like Bart Simpson?  Anyway Bart is a gay man that is very promiscuous -  which is fine except that he's a huge asshole and is constantly ghosting the guys around him and lying to them and refusing to cuddle. Whatever happened to aftercare?

 Anyway he goes in for a check up and I'm gonna be completely honest with you I don't remember how this exchange went or how it ended up like this, but Zach and Bart  leave the doctors office and then go to lunch. Which is really fucking strange? Like it's weird enough to go to lunch with someone you met like five minutes ago but also ask your doctor for lunch? No matter how hot he is in your mind it's a bit odd innit.

 So they go to lunch and they talk and then later Zack spots barked outside of a gay bar. And he is like "oh shit. Bart is gay."

and I'm gonna mention this bit now  instead of tacking it on at the end:  the entire time that this movie is going it keeps randomly cutting to Bart and separately Claire sitting in a buzzfeed-like white void  being interviewed by  some unknown person. this does not help at all with the story in fact it's an active distraction and it doesn't provide any interesting lore and essentially it's just the characters reacting to what you've already seen on the screen. So for example  you'll see a scene of Claire crying or whatever and her interview self will turn to the camera and be like "I was sad. I was really sad. I was crying." And it's like. Girl we know that we can see it. Whatever happened to showing and not telling in storytelling?

OK anyway at some point Zach ends up at Barts apartment and they kind of dance around the subject a little bit and eventually Bart comes out as gay. Which is like yeah dude you took him out on a date already?  And Zach admits that he's curious by it but because he's married it's not really something he's comfortable with exploring.  And   Bart confront him –  and he's like "OK then why are you here?" And this is where I say like. Zack is trying to learn more about gay men and by extension himself and he doesn't have to do that through sex necessarily so this feels like a scumbag thing to say. But at the same time Bart does not owe Zach education or emotional labor. The dude is just trying to  live his life.

like I'll admit I would also be kind of miffed if a guy was flirting with me and coming around to my house and going on dates with me and then he was like "oh you know I don't really know if I'm gay or not I was hoping that you could help me figure that out." because at that point you're just playing with my feelings.  Figure it out before you talk to me. There are plenty of guys out there who love sleeping with curious guys in particular -  go seek those ones out.

and then the story progresses very suddenly in a way that doesn't make sense. It's like they wrote that scene and then they got stumped  because they couldn't figure out how to get from point a to point c -  so they straight up just did not write B.   so suddenly Zack and Bart  are having sex. I'm gonna be honest this is one of the few parts of the movie I actually liked because I felt like the intimacy was pretty romantic and it was filmed tastefully.  And I was able to forget for a second that I hated both of these characters.

 So this becomes a thing where you know he's fucking Bart and he's distant from his wife and his wife is having a mental breakdown. because she's not sure if she should take on a huge project at work because she's ready to have children and she's worried that she shouldn't wait much longer because she's almost 30 which is bullshit? But also it was a different time then and cis women were legitimately too scared to have children pass that age into a certain extent some cis women still are.  And it's deeply unfair to her because Zach won't just fucking talk to her he won't even lie to her he's just silence and distant and never home.

and the confusing that is that when they are together they're fucking.  And at first I was like oh OK he's a  bisexual king. Nope! He is gay and is forcing himself to do comphet  even though his wife has literally not asked him for sex.  He is the one who actively initiates each time.  So that's upsetting.

eventually she completely snaps at him and that scares him enough that he decides the next time he sees her he's going to come out. And this entire time Claire has reassured him over and over and over and over and over and over again that whatever is wrong with him it doesn't matter because she loves him and she will support him. And so that primes the viewer to assume that one she already knows that he's gay and two  that they're going to have a Stede  and Mary moment where she accepts that he's gay.

Nope! she reacts by violently screaming at him. And completely tearing him to shreds. And making the situation just about her. And the wildest bit is that he doesn't even come out as gay. All he says is that he realized recently that he is attracted to men. He could be bisexual but  Claire is I guess so disgusted by the very concept of homosexuality (like the people in the theater i guess)  that she doesn't even consider that as a possibility. I mean Zach isn't  bisexual but Claire doesn't know that.

also I forgot to mention before Zach comes out to his wife. The relationship between him and Bart  is really fucking weird. Because Bart keep insisting that he doesn't want a relationship and Zack keeps insisting that he also doesn't want one because he has his wife and yet both of them are like. Too clingy? For each other. And also not enough? And it's like the writers couldn't figure out what the dynamic was before they started writing the film and they were making shit up on the fly even if it contradicted itself. Like it doesn't at all read like to men who don't know what they want as much as writing that does not make sense. Zach wants a boyfriend no he doesn't Bart doesn't want a boyfriend yes he does.

anyway Zach gets kicked out of his house so he goes to Bart and he's like hey man can I stay here for a couple of days? And I'm going to remind you that these two have been fucking like rabbits and even if they're not dating they do appear to have some sort of friendship at the very least. And fucking Bart tells him no.  Dude why. He's your friend. 

 So he has to stay in a motel room. And then eventually his wife calms down and seeks him out.  convince him to remain married to her and to get his homosexuality "treated".  And he explained to her that he doesn't want treated and that he is happy as a gay man and that their marriage is not gonna work and they're gonna have to divorce and that he wants distance from her.

 Now this is the most confusing part of the film to me. we jumped two years into the future where Zach has moved to another state and he gets a phone call about a funeral he has to attend so he goes home and he knows that he's going to run into his ex-wife.  And they meet each other and it's very sweet and all that and she has a new husband and she has a young child and then interaction goes well.

But the confusing bit is that this entire movie the love interest has been Bart.  And you keep thinking oh OK he's going to run into Bart  while he's in the area. Nope! and it turns out that  At the beginning of this time skip we see Zack and another man in what I assumed was some kind of office building? But apparently it's their home? And apparently that guy is his new boyfriend? But we don't even learn his name we've never seen him before now there's no meet cute  no explanation there's no development. There's just suddenly some guy there and we use the audience are supposed to know his purpose.  Because when Zack is talking to his ex-wife he mentions that he's been in a relationship for two years. And I was like  oh maybe he in bart are long distance or something?

it's just all very convoluted in my personal opinion. I don't think there should've been a time skip. I think they should've explored Zack finding a new relationship that was healthier for him rather than just being like hey audience by the way you know?

so my verdict of the movie making love 1982 is that everyone's the asshole here! Also the gay sex was kind of cool. 

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Days and Nights are Long

Pairing: clueless!Colin Shea x clueless!fem Reader

Words: ~4K

Summary: You and Colin are being idiots and it’s driving his band crazy.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex, multiple orgasms, squirting), idiots in love, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: It took way longer than I had planned but here’s some more of our drunk, musical idiots in love for you hoes!!! I love them so, even though they’re morons. Tagging my Colin babes @starlightcrystalline and @wayward-blonde because I know they’ve been waiting for this.

I no longer do 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!

Colin shook his head and shrugged uncomfortably as he stared at his phone, wracking his brain to think of what exactly he should say to you.

“For fuck’s sake, Shea, just ask her to come up.” Matt looked exasperated, twirling his stick through his fingers as he rolled his eyes when Colin scowled at him.

He’d been moping for the past two weeks, ever since the two of you had slept together. All of his bandmates were getting sick of it, the man was the biggest pouty baby on the face of the planet. If they had to listen to him sing Everybody Hurts one more time they were going to kill him.

So they’d come up with a little plan to get him out of his funk, lining up a gig that would really lend itself better to a female vocalist and feigning innocence when Colin pointed that out. They had really enjoyed hanging out with you on that exceptionally hot evening, and if having you join them again was the only way to get their boy out of his funk, even better. He had actually smiled before pulling his phone out, but then he realized he had no idea what he should say.

The two of you had still been cordial whenever you ran into each other, but there was definitely a strain to your interactions now. No matter how much you both told each other it wasn’t awkward, it was definitely awkward. It was also weird that he was pretty sure you hadn’t come home after 1 AM at all in the last two weeks, and you usually at least spent your weekend nights at some other asshole’s apartment. Not that he’d had any visitors either, but he didn’t want to explore that too much.

He was still staring at his phone screen and trying to come up when some nonchalant greeting that would entice you to come sing with them when the phone was suddenly plucked out of his hand by an exasperated looking Keith, who ignored his spluttering as he typed a quick message before tossing the phone back to him.

“You’re thinking about this too hard.” The bassist said, setting to tuning his instrument and chuckling at the indignant look on Colin’s face.

Colin was about to give a snarky reply when he felt his phone buzz and looked down to see a text from you, grinning when he saw you saying you’d be right up. With an exclamation point! He didn’t even notice the pleased grins his bandmates were giving each other as they watched him start to tune his guitar, plucking a happy little tune and humming to himself.

They were all expecting you to come through the main door from the stairs, so when you shouted hello from behind them after climbing up your fire escape, you were greeted with the sight of five grown men almost jumping out of their skins before turning to greet you.

That grin on your face was enough to make Colin melt, all the awkwardness that had been lingering between you disappearing in an instant when you met each other’s eyes.

“Alright boys!” You took the mic Brad handed you with a warm smile, rolling it in one hand as you trailed the cord through your fingers. “You said you needed my help with something Col, what’s up?”

“Right, these idiots lined up a gig for us without consulting me first.” They all avoided his halfhearted glare with doe eyed innocence, focusing on their instruments. “And, well, the set list isn’t really in my range.”

“Lemme see.” You took the sheet of paper from his hand and scanned it quickly. “That’s a whole lot of girl rock.”

“Yeah, like I said, Ann Wilson and I aren’t really in the same register.” Fuck, it was nice to be able to talk to you again.

“Why don’t you just modulate it, then?” You mumbled absentmindedly.

He gaped like a fish at that question. He honestly hadn’t even thought about it, and even if he had, he wasn’t expecting you to know about modulation.

“If we modulate for him, none of us can hit the harmonies.” Craig piped up from behind the keyboards, and he could have kissed him.

“That right?” You teased, shooting a wicked smirk around at them. “You boys sure you didn’t just miss me?”

Colin tried not to sound too hysterical when he let out a laugh, missing the indulgent eye rolls his band mates were giving behind your backs.

“What do you think, we booked a gig where I can’t sing any of the songs on purpose just so we could hang out again?” Good thing he was pretty, the man was clueless.

“No, you’re not that clever, Col.” He made a mock wounded gesture and you grinned at him, looking over the set list some more. “What kind of gig is this anyway?”

“Yeah, Craig, you never told us what the actual gig was.” Colin and the rest of the band gave the keyboardist a variety of inquisitive stares.

“Uh, it’s a bachelorette party.” He mumbled, avoiding making eye contact with his bandmates when they started groaning.

“Fuck, Craig! I do not want to get felt up by a bunch of drunk, horny women!” Colin threw a balled up sheet of music at you when you started laughing.

“That seems right up your alley, Shea.” You teased, dodging when he threw a pillow from the couch at you. “You don’t want to pick up some rowdy bridesmaid?”

“No, they’re scary aggressive.” He shuddered when he thought about the last bachelorette party they had done, they’d practically ripped the band’s clothes off before they could get out of there.

“Aww, well I’ll be there to shield you this time, sweetie.” You winked at him and moved a little closer to everyone. “Let’s practice, boys. Don’t want to give those girls cause to complain.”

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

It was the day of the gig, and you and Colin had decided to drive together to streamline things. He was waiting in your living room and tapping his foot nervously as he waited for you to finish getting ready, anxious about what actually performing with you would be like.

“Y/N, we need to go!” He never thought you would be the type to take forever getting ready.

“Yeah, I know!” You strolled out to the living room with a grin on your face and he had to swallow a groan. “How do I look?”

“Good, really good.” The way he was looking at you made your grin grow even wider.

The outfit wasn’t even that special, just a denim mini skirt and a tight v-neck tee with a leather jacket. Oh, and thigh high leather boots. It was definitely the boots he was staring at, his eyes trained on the few inches of bare skin between the top of the boots and the hem of your skirt. You gave him a couple minutes to just stare at you before rolling your eyes and strolling towards your front door, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him after you.

“C’mon Shea, we don’t wanna be late.” You scolded, shoving his amp into his hand and slinging his guitar case over your shoulder before heading down the stairs.

He had trouble focusing on the road as he drove you to the bar the party was going to be at, all he wanted to do was memorize the way you looked in that outfit. It was like someone told you exactly what to wear to drive him crazy. Maybe bringing you into this gig hadn’t been the best idea, because all he wanted to do right now was pull over and let you ride him while you weren’t wearing anything except for those boots and that jacket, and maybe whatever lingerie you had on under that outfit.

“Colin, you’re going to miss the turn.” Your voice snapped him out of his little daydream, and he cursed as he took the turn towards the bar a little faster than he would have liked.

“Sorry, just got a little distracted.” He mumbled, slowing down as he turned into the alley behind the bar and put the car in park behind Matt’s van.

The rest of the band was already unloading, waving at you two as Colin shut off his vehicle and you stepped out. You actually gave Craig and Keith little side hugs before you started helping with the unloading, he hadn’t realized you guys had gotten that close over the past week, and for some reason it made him smile.

“How’s it going man?” He didn’t know how he felt about the look Matt was giving him as he helped carry the bass drum inside, it felt suggestive of something. “Y/N seems excited to be here.”

“Yeah, I thought she might be nervous about performing but she’s handling everything like a pro.” He watched you laugh at something Brad said as you worked on connecting your mic. “Maybe we should make her an official member.”

“Whatever you say, man.” Matt just shrugged, laughing when Colin rounded on him and started spluttering.

“I was joking! We can’t just ask Y/N to be in the band!” Could they? Having you around had been a lot of fun, and the band dynamic had helped alleviate some of the tension that had been growing between you two. But seeing you tonight looking like you did and knowing that you were gonna have to have some on stage chemistry to make this work was making him think twice about things. You got a little intense during rehearsals, and the added pressure of being on stage might make him combust if you kicked it up at all.

Matt shook his head at him and set to assembling his kit while the rest of the band started tuning and connecting their instruments. You just sat on a stool and sipped some water, running through a couple vocal exercises absentmindedly as you scrolled through your phone. It only took a couple of minutes for everyone to finish setting up and then it was mic checks all around.

Everything sounded good and balanced after a couple adjustments and the sound guys gave you the thumbs up to start warming up. Colin couldn’t stop watching you. You were so unbelievably relaxed on stage and it was just endearing you to him even more. He thought for sure you would have been a bundle of nerves but you seemed to be right in your element, tossing him a couple of lazy grins over your shoulder as you ran through a couple of songs before the partygoers started filtering in.

The band switched to doing some instrumental ambience shit while they waited for the party to really get going, and Colin wandered over to talk to you when you took a step back from your mic.

“Still feeling ok about this?” He asked, beaming back at the soft smile you gave him.

“Yeah, I’m excited.” You bounced on your toes a little, adrenaline flooding your veins as the crowd grew. “Think I’ll get any bras thrown at me?”

“You never know with bachelorettes.” He laughed, strolling back over to his own mic so he could introduce the band.

If he thought jamming with you was special, it was nothing compared to watching you perform. You were a goddamn natural, coming alive and feeding off the crowd’s energy until you were completely lost in the music. Every time his eyes met yours you were grinning at him, and your chemistry with the rest of the band was palpable.

Not to mention, you kept drifting close to him on the stage, brushing your hand over his shoulders or leaning against him when you harmonized and it was making his knees weak. , God, he could do this with you every night, even though he was pretty sure he was going to need to sneak into the bathroom to jerk off afterwards.

The show was over too soon, the extremely drunken crowd of rowdy bachelorettes finally getting crazy enough that the band was ready to make a hasty escape. You were bouncing on your toes with residual energy as you started helping the guys pack up their instruments, grabbing Colin’s amp after he shoved his guitar in the case and you both made a run for it to his car when a wobbly woman started to try to climb on the stage.

“Colin, holy fuck that was so much fun!” You managed to make it to the alley unscathed and were giving him the most heartbreaking grin. “We’re definitely doing this again.”

“Yeah? Well you did a great fucking job.” Goddamn it, he’d missed you. “We can do whatever you want, honey.”

“Really?” You slammed the trunk closed and started to prowl closer to him. “Whatever I want?”

“That is what I said.” He could feel his voice dropping into that low register that meant he was in desperate need of some sort of release, so he really hoped he wasn’t misreading this situation. “Why? Did you want something now?”

“I think I do.” Your chest was right against his and you could feel it heaving, gazing at him through your lashes while you ran your fingers over his abs. “I stole the keys to the van.”

“And, you wanna go on a joy ride?” He breathed deep when you brushed your lips over his, winding an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“Or, we could just fuck in the back while the rest of the guys search for these.” You pulled back a little and jingled the keys in his face, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth while he ran his hands over your hips.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea.” He smashed his lips to yours and let out a low moan, his fingers digging into your ass while the two of you stumbled towards the side door of the van.

You fumbled with the keys for a minute because you didn’t want to take your mouth off Colin for any reason, but then you were sliding the door open and the two of you were falling inside in a tangle of limbs before somehow managing to kick the door closed behind you. Trying to undress each other was a little difficult with how wrapped up you were in each other but you managed, tossing your garments away haphazardly as your tongues curled tangled together. Colin grabbed your hands when you went to remove your boots, pulling them up to his face and kissing your palms before winding your arms around his neck.

“Keep those on.” His voice was a low growl and fuck, you forgot how sexy he was.

“Well, cannot say I’m surprised you're a little kinky, Col.” You wound your fingers through his hair and yanked, purring at the groan he gave you. “I’m gonna suck that pretty dick of yours, but then I’ll give it to you nice and rough.”

“God, baby.” He wished he didn’t sound so whiny when you started kissing your way down his chest, but he hadn’t gotten any release except from his hand for the past two weeks and he really needed you to keep doing what you were doing. “I’ll take whatever you give me.”

“Yeah? Knew you were a good boy.” You winked at him when you started kissing the skin above the band of his boxer briefs before you were yanking them down his thighs and immediately licking a heavy stripe up the underside of his cock when it sprung up against his abs.

Colin had to brace a hand against the side of the van when you worked him over, spitting on his tip and watching it drip down his length before spreading it over him with your lips. You wrapped your hand around his shaft and gave him a nice, smooth stroke as you ducked down between his length to press gentle kisses over his balls while you jerked him off. He almost choked on his tongue when you wrapped your lips around his sack and tugged softly, the hum you let out sending a vibration up his spine while your thumb swiped over his swollen tip.

The sounds he was making from just a handjob were enough to soak through the thin lace of your panties, and when he shouted your name when you moved a little lower and teased your tongue over his asshole, well you almost fucking came just from that. You couldn’t believe you had stupidly waited two fucking weeks before indulging in this man again, you finally felt like yourself again. It was driving you absolutely crazy, the way his hips were wriggling underneath you spurring you on until you couldn’t take it any more.

If he thought your hand was incredible, it was nothing compared to the feel of your lips wrapped around his tip while your tongue swirled around his sensitive head. With all the women he’d slept with, he’d definitely suffered through some mediocre and downright disappointing blow jobs. But you felt like you were about to suck the soul out of him, and you’d only just started.

“Ah, Christ.” He was going to pass out if you kept going like this, your mouth was like fucking heaven. “Honey, fuck.”

You shot him a wicked look when you started bobbing your head, taking him just a little deeper each time while your tongue curled around him as much as possible. Then you opened your throat and swallowed him whole and he lost his mind.

He wrapped his hand in your hair and held your head still as he started fucking your throat, his hips bucking wildly while you choked and sputtered around him. Drool was running down your chin and soaking his thighs as you started breathing through your nose, digging your fingers into his thighs while he used you like a fuck toy. You kept your tongue pressed flat against your bottom teeth to avoid choking on it, moaning softly when you tasted the salty tang of his precum hit your tongue. His grip on your hair was growing painful, and you could tell by the way his abs were twitching that he was close.

“Wait, ah shit!” He somehow managed to gather enough self control to pull out of your mouth, groaning at the long string of saliva that kept you connected even as you bit at your swollen lips. “I’m not coming unless it’s in that pretty pussy. How do you want it?”

“Fuck me from behind, Col.”

He growled as he sat up and smashed his lips to yours, savoring the taste of himself on your tongue before flipping your over and burying his face in your hair. You let out a low moan when he slammed into you with no warning, gasping at the punishing pace he was setting and purring when he started mouthing at your neck.

The van was shaking like some sort of cliche while Colin fucked into you with abandon, his hips bouncing off your ass in an obscene display while the two of you whined and panted together. Colin was going to lose his fucking mind, two weeks with barely even talking to you and now he was finally inside you it was all he could do to not go completely feral.

“Oh god, honey.” He was practically whining against your skin when you clenched around him, sucking your ear lobe between his lips while you arched your back and purred for him. “Fuck, you’re so tight and wet. Pussy so fucking good. Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you come.”

“So close, Colin, shit!” You gasped when he hit you deep, curling your body backwards around him and reaching over your shoulder to wind your fingers through his hair and press his lips to yours. “Need that dick so bad. Feel so good when you’re inside me.”

“I know, baby, I know.” He wound one hand around your neck and the other arm around your waist, holding you close while he kissed you deeply and swallowed your wanton mewls with a deep groan. “Come for me.”

His hips ground against you and you slapped the floor of the van when you came, sobbing into his mouth and vibrating underneath him while your pussy strangled his cock. Your teeth nipped at his lips once you were finished, humming happily as he continued fucking you through your high.

“Need more, Colin.” You whimpered when he started slowing down, trying to thrust your hips back towards him as you tried to bring yourself to the edge again. “Harder, I need it.”

“Fuck, I’ll give you whatever you fucking want.” He tugged at your lips with his teeth, squeezing your neck gently and groaning at your soft whimper as you clenched around him. “Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good.”

You couldn’t respond when he started pounding into you furiously, the way his cock was punching against your soft walls making it a little hard to breathe, never mind thinking. He was hitting every spot you needed him to with each thrust, grunting into your ear each time his hips slammed into you until he felt your breath hitch.

Every time he bottomed out you thought you were going to pass out, the tip of his cock punching against your cervix and making you see stars. It was so good, he was hitting you so deep and smooth you couldn’t believe you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Colin growled when a particularly vicious push had your entire body rising off the floor of the van, your fluttering sigh sending a shiver of pleasure through his body. One more thrust and you lost it, screaming with ecstasy as every muscle in your body vibrated and you squirted all over Colin’s thighs and the floor.

“Fuck, fuck, baby.” Colin was desperate, his rhythm completely gone as he chased his own end while you fluttered around him. “Gonna fill this pretty little pussy up until I’m leaking outta you for the next week.”

“Oh god, please.” Your eyes rolled up in your head while you let him use you, his lips tracing your jaw hungrily as you pushed your hips back to meet his. “Give it to me, Colin.”

He buried his face in your neck and let out a strangled cry when his hips stuttered, thick, warm ropes of white shooting against your soft walls until he was collapsing on top of you with a sated moan. You tangled your fingers with his above your head as your breathing regulated, his breath hot on your neck while the two of you melted into each other.

“We’re not waiting two weeks again, right?” Colin’s arms wrapped around you as he nuzzled into your hair, his lips spreading in a slow smile when he felt you purr contentedly.

“Nope. I’m definitely gonna need this to happen on the regular.” You turned a little so you could rub your nose against his. “You know, in between our other, normal escapades.”

“Right.” His heart fell a little at that, but maybe just interspersing his trysts with you with his other one night stands would help flush his crush on you out of his system.

Before he had a chance to say anything else there was a sudden pounding at the van door, snapping the two of you out of your haze with a pair of exasperated groans.

“Shea!!!” You untangled yourselves as you started to pull on your clothes. “That had better be Y/N in there! If you sad fucked some bachelorette and we have to listen to you sing stupid breakup songs for the next month I’m going to kill you!”

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

[noctumbra]

❝scars❞

summary ─ “jamie,” you whispered, and bucky─ he sobbed quietly at first. His chin was trembling slightly, eyes were now red and his nose was tingling. “oh, jamie,” you murmured as you ran your hair on his face gently, so gently.

pairing ─ roommate!bucky barnes x reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, angst, mentions of nightmares and scars, mirror sex, body worship, sarge kink, oral sex, bucky fucks like an animal, also my fav position like holy shit skdfjskjfs

a/n ─ this... IS LONG and shouldn’t have had angst in it but well *shrugs* hope you like it!! seven days late, but better late than never right? please leave a comment if you like it! thank you <333

KINKTOBER DAY ELEVEN: roommate!bucky + body worship + mirror sex + daddy sarge kink

When you came home after a very tiring school day, you found Bucky lounging on the couch and flipping through the channels.

He looked sick, pale; his mid-length hair sticking to his face, t-shirt was sweat soaked, his sweatpants had stains on them and his face. God, his face looked haunted. The purple-ish dark circles under his eyes were deeper and more prominent now; they had a haunted, wounded look in them. His lips looked bitten harshly; they were very red and swollen, and bleeding just a little. His cheekbones were more visible than a week ago. It looked like he lost a lot of weight in the span of two days.

Feeling your heart broke, you hung your coat and toed your boots off. You were making noise intentionally; scaring him was the last thing you could ask for him right now. So, you moved onto the small kitchen you shared, dropping your bag on the tiny table, you made a move towards the coffee machine that was chirping happily.

“Hey,” you called out softly only to get a grunt in return. It was not his day, you realized. You sighed. It never stopped you before and you weren’t about to start shying away. “You want some coffee?” You asked, “Or I could make you your tea? Lavender?” Bucky didn’t say anything. Sighing again, you put your cup on the counter, making your way to Bucky.

“Bucky?” His eyes flicked to yours for a second, but he averted them quickly. He knew that you could tell that he was not okay, knew that that was why you were acting like he was something fragile.

He hated it.

He hated being so fragile, weak, and broken. He wanted everything to be okay, but things he saw and did… They didn’t let him be. They were haunting him every day of his miserable life, and you were witnessing it.

“Hey,” he heard you call out to him again, so soft and loving. Bucky felt like he could cry like a baby, so he just pushed the tears back and clenched his jaw. “Jamie,” you whispered, and Bucky─ He sobbed quietly at first. His chin was trembling slightly, eyes were now red and his nose was tingling. “Oh, Jamie,” you murmured as you ran your hair on his face gently, so gently.

Bucky didn’t deserve your gentleness, or your kindness, really. Not after what he done overseas. Not after what he saw.

“Sssh,” you hushed him as you cradled his jaw in your warm palm. His stubble was tickling your hand a little, but you didn’t mind. He needed all the affection you could ever give to him. “C’mon,” you murmured, “Let’s get you out of these clothes and maybe give you a shower, shall we?”

“I’m not a baby or a cripple,” he whisper-snarled.

“I know,” you agreed. “You’re not a baby or a cripple. You’re Jamie; you can do whatever you want on your own if that’s what you wish.” You stroked his cheekbone. It felt too sharp under your finger. “You’re also my friend,” you whispered, “No, you’re more than a friend; you’re my only family, Jamie. Families take care of each other when it’s needed.” Bucky sniffed. “Let me take care of you?”

He couldn’t say no. It’d be a dishonor to say no, especially when you were being so patient and kind with him. You were also right; you were a family.

“Okay,” he whispered and let you help him off the couch. Both of you walked towards the bathroom with quiet steps. Bucky was slightly shaking in your arms; the effect of his nightmare was still present in his mind. When you reached the bathroom, you helped him sit on the toilet after you closed the lid.

“I’m gonna bring you some clothes, okay?” You asked him while you turned the water on. Bucky nodded slowly. “I’ll be right back,” you whispered and squeezed his hand. You quickly made your way to his room; opening his closet, you pulled out his softest sweatpants and t-shirt, also grabbed one of his clean boxer briefs.

Bucky looked up as he heard you come back. You were holding clean clothes and his towels in your hands. You placed them onto the washing machine and turned to him. He knew this part. He needed to get out of his clothes. He didn’t want to, but he had to.

“Jamie…” You whispered.

“I know,” he murmured. He closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t that you hadn’t seen him without a shirt before, you had. This shower thing wasn’t your first rodeo. Sighing again, Bucky gripped the hem of t-shirt and pulled it over his head. His scarred arm was hurting badly; he had dug his nails very deep while trapped in the nightmare, there were some bad nail marks on his forearm. Bucky discarded the t-shirt somewhere in the bathroom and stood up to shed his sweatpants. Now he was realizing that his clothes were really filth; his habit of ignoring to face with himself after a nightmare made him also ignore the filth that the nightmare usually brought with itself. “Yuck,” he whispered to himself, but you heard it. Chuckling softly, you moved towards the tub to check the water. It was the right amount of lukewarm; leaning towards hot more than cold, Bucky hated cold things.

“Water is ready,” you announced, stepping aside so that Bucky could get in the tub. He did, partially hiding his arm and his private areas ─ not that you hadn’t seen it before. Bucky groaned softly as he lowered himself into the water. All the tension in his muscles was slowly going away with the warm hug of hot water and he thanked you softly. “Anytime, Jamie,” you answered him cheekily. “Now, wet your hair a little so that I can wash it for you.”

The bath went on without a hitch; Bucky had let you wash his hair, even let you use the conditioner, and he helped you while you were washing his body.

You remembered your first times with him.

You were desperate for a cheap-priced room because the girls which you shared your dorm room with were bitches and hated you with their guts. When you saw his ad on the newspaper, you almost screamed because the offer was exactly what you were looking for: two room and one living room, separate bathrooms, tiny but practical kitchen. All the bills and grocery shopping were to be paid fifty-fifty. The place was close to your campus, too. You were only a little hesitant about the other room being belong to a man, but you had handled with it by installing new locks both on your room’s and the bathroom’s door after you signed the contract.

The man said that he had been away, overseas. He did four tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, had been dumped on the unforgiving cold of Siberia. At the very least, his last tour had almost caused him to lose an arm, though he had very heavy scarring on his left arm and less heavier one on his left thigh. His chest was filled with small scars, too.

He wasn’t a bad guy, though. He was actually a sweetheart made of cold stares and war-built huge muscles. He looked intimidating, you had decided on after a month you had spent with him. He was also a funny and smart guy, a gentleman really.

You’ve been sharing this small apartment with him for three years now.

“Mmm,” You heard him hum happily as you combed his hair. You could see his reflection on the mirror. You moved onto your room because his bed was filthy and you didn’t want to leave him alone even for a minute. You had a body length mirror in front of your bed, and you were sitting on the bed while he was on the floor, between your legs.

“Your hair is always so soft even though you’re shit at taking care of it,” you grumbled silently. Bucky chuckled, shoulders trembling slightly.

“It’s the genes, honey,” he said, feeling a lot more like himself. You smiled.  You ran the comb in his soft and long hair while humming to yourself contently. The genes he was talking about were strong and pretty, you realized. He had this beautiful shade of blue eyes, very kissable lips and a handsome face. You were actually very surprised when you learned that he had been single ever since he had joined the army which happened when he was eighteen and he was thirty-three now.

“You’re beautiful, you know,” you said, watching his reaction through the mirror. Bucky scoffed. “You are, Jamie,” you insisted. “Your hair and eyes and lips… You have a very handsome face that most of the girls I know would fall in love with. Those freckles,” you ran the tip of your fingers on the bridge of his nose and his cheekbones. “They’re absolutely adorable. So is the dimple on your chin. I know you hide it with your beard, but you shouldn’t. It gives you a different kind of look.” You put the comb aside as you locked eyes with him on the mirror. His eyes were wide and surprised; he didn’t expect getting these kinds of compliments from you it seemed.

“You’re very self-conscious when it comes to your body,” you started gently as you peeled the towel off his shoulders. His fingers went lax and he let you put the towel aside. “You have a beautifully toned body, Jamie. These muscles were earned with hard-work, not with steroids. You gained them when you were saving innocent people and killing the ones that maybe deserved to be killed.” You ran your fingers on his biceps, feeling them shudder slightly under your touch. One of your hands moved to his chest while the other stayed on his left arm.

“These scars? They’re telling me that you’ve made sacrifices for the people you have save or tried saving,” you murmured and kissed his cheek. “They tell me that you almost died while saving those people.” Your hand on his left arm tightened just a little, making him understand that you were talking about what happened on his last tour. “All the scars on your body tell me a story, Jamie. They make you a badass and a hero in my eyes. A brave man who risked his live just to save the others.” You heard him took a sharp breath before the soft sob escaped his lips.

Kissing his cheek again, you moved the hand on his chest south. “You think you don’t deserve good things such as love and kindness. Honey,” you whispered. “You’re one of those people who deserve them the most.” You grabbed his chin and turned his face to yours. His eyes were red but dark, pupils dilated. This was both touching and arousing for him, you knew it. “You deserve to feel good.” Your thumb stroked his cheekbone gently. “You deserve to feel loved.” He leaned in just a little. “Jamie…” You whispered just before he kissed you.

The kiss felt like a huge, much needed breathe that you both refused to take for a long time.

Moaning into the kiss brokenly, both of you panted. Lips sliding on each other’s hungrily, Bucky turned his body to you between your legs, rising on to his knees. He cradled your face with his hands. Tilting his head to his side, his tongue licked a small line on your lips, gently asking for permission. With a whimper, you gave it to him. His tongue dove into your mouth, making you moan this time.

“Y/N…” he whimpered when you pulled away for oxygen. “I─ I really want this.” You nodded and kissed him on the lips chastely. “I want this a lot. You. I want you.”

“Me too,” you agreed. “God, Bucky, three years─” Bucky just whimpered brokenly and leaned in for another kiss. This time taking you in his arms, he lifted you and laid you down your bed. His body was on top yours, covering yours in a way that got your head all fuzzy with sweet feelings. You wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him down even more.

His right hand was on your jaw, cradling your face in his large palm gently. His other one was roaming all over your body. Stroking every single naked body part it could find, you shuddered under his body. His lips were so soft, so kissable, you moaned at the feeling of them against yours. They were stroking yours so nicely, you felt amazing. Loved.

“Jamie!” You mewled when he sucked on your bottom lip. His stubble covered face was now moving to your neck; you bared it to him by throwing your head back. You fisted his hair. Your fingers were gripping the soft locks harshly, Bucky gasped. His teeth clamped on your widely beating pulse and nibbled softly. “Fuck,” you breathed as his bite turned into a suck. He was marking you, and you were fucking loving it.

“Smell so nice,” he murmured against your skin. “Y/N, honey girl,” Bucky moaned when your hips thrusted up unintentionally. He pressed his own down, stopping you from moving. “It’s been a very,” Bucky chuckled, “very long time since I had sex. I don’t wanna come in, like, two seconds.” You giggled and watched his face for a short while, an idea was forming in your head slowly. You pushed at his shoulders a bit. Bucky frowned.

“Mirror,” you murmured, “Sit in front of the mirror for me?” Still frowning, Bucky did as you said. He got off the bed and sat in front of the mirror. You followed him a second later and helped him get out of the sweatpants. Also taking his boxer briefs off, you slid your hand over his bare chest. You felt his muscles shudder under your fingers and you smirked. “Let me help you to let some steam off, okay?”

Breathlessly, Bucky nodded. You laid on your stomach after you positioned him in a way where he could see what you were going to do to him through the mirror clearly.

“Oh, fuck,” he whimpered when he realized what you were up to. You winked at him and kissed one of the scars on his chest.

“Relax,” you murmured. You smirked again when you heard him chant curse words under his breath. You lowered your head and took a hold of his half-hard cock. Moaning softly at the feeling of him in your hand, you licked your lips before you placed a kiss on the top. His precum smeared all over your lips with one kiss, you hummed.  Bucky panted; his lips were parted and his eyes were glazed. You loved this look on him.

Winking at him again, you closed your lips around his cock head and sucked softly.

“Holy fu─” Bucky choked over his own moan and his hips bucked up to your face just a little. “Ha─! Shit, sorry, fuck, ‘m sorry.” Panting wildly, you stroked his thighs without stopping yourself from sucking his cock. You bobbed your head up and down a little; taking just a little bit more of him with each slide. His taste had your taste buds singing; the right amount of bitterness and something that was unique to him. You loved it. You pulled back and licked the throbbing, thick vein from bottom to top. Bucky whined loudly from the back of his throat, eyes pleading. You looked at him and keeping the eye-contact you closed your lips on his head again and sucked for real.

“Ah!” Bucky cried out loudly, head thrown back onto the bed. “God, fuck, yes…” He murmured softly. “I missed─ Ah!” You hummed around him; vibrations making him feel so good that Bucky knew that he was going to come very soon. He moaned, thrashed a little as you sucked him like a lollipop and whimpered. He forgot how a blowjob made him feel so freaking good. He forgot how it felt to have someone else touching him like this, giving him the pleasure and psychical contact that he had been missing like crazy for the past years.

“Y/N…” He whimpered your name softly. “’m gonna come,” he warned, “Fuck, ‘m so close, honey. Please.” You hollowed your cheeks and sucked even harder; your fingers found his tight balls and started to roll them, squeeze them gently. Bucky shouted and whimpered, hips twitching. “Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck─” He couldn’t even warn you about coming; his orgasm hit him like a freight train and Bucky felt his whole body trembling violently, toes curling, before blacking out for a couple seconds.

You hummed throughout the whole thing softly. Having stopped playing with his balls, you just suckled at him. His cock was throbbing in your mouth while he was whining and moaning under his breath. You pulled off and started to jack him without an aim, just to bring him down. His eyes blinked open a couple seconds later. His skin was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, eyes so dark, you couldn’t even see the blue in them anymore. His cheeks were pink and he looked debauched in the best way possible.

“Hi,” he breathed, smiling tiredly, but wide. You smiled back at him.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You asked. You knew it had been a long time for him, he just told you and you assumed since he wasn’t hooking up with anyone etc. You were worried just a little because it was his first orgasm in a very long time.

“’m… I feel amazin’,” he grinned. You chuckled, your worry melting away. Bucky grabbed your hand that was still on his cock and tugged you up from it. You went to him. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist and hoisted you up on his lap, lips finding yours immediately. You breathed out a soft moan as his lips collided into yours. Kissing him felt incredible, having his warm body against yours… You were in heaven and you were going to enjoy it until the very end.

“I wanna be in you,” he whispered against your lips. Moaning, surprised, you nodded. “Can we, honey? Please?”

“Mmm, of course, Sarge,” you hummed, feeling him stiffen. You pulled back just a little, heart beating wildly because of the possibility that you might have fucked everything up by calling him Sarge. Then, he blinked and his face contorted into a dark version of before.

“Hmm,” he hummed at you back, approvingly. “Is that how things gonna be? You gonna call me Sarge to rile me up?” You chuckled; both relieved and surprised.

“Yeah, do you not want me to?”

“Oh, no. You are to keep calling me Sarge and nothing else,” he said, voice commanding. Giggling softly, you nodded.

“Yes, Sarge.” Bucky smirked at you and stroked your cheek. “Before we get into it for real, kiss me again?” His face softened a bit and he immediately complied. The next couple minutes were lost to kissing; heated and soft and chaste, all kinds, and undressing. By the time you stopped kissing, both of you were as naked as the day you were born. You felt your face heating up, you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Bucky trailed his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. Bucky held you tightly against his chest and he laid you in front of the mirror.

“I don’t think I can do slow,” he murmured. “Honey, you understand what I’m saying? I can’t do slow.” You nodded as you cradled his jaw, nails drawing shapes on his bare back.

“Yes, do it. Don’t be slow, Sarge, c’mon,” you urged him. Bucky’s face darkened like it did a short while ago. He leaned in kissed your lips chastely, and then he moved to your jaw. Peppering kisses to your breasts, Bucky took one into his mouth and sucked on it. You moaned sharply, hand slipping in his silky soft hair. One of his hands was kneading your breast while the other moved to your wet pussy. You cried out when his fingers brushed your swollen clit.

Bucky pulled back to moan. “Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, “You’re fuckin’ drippin’. ‘s it all for me?” You nodded as you bit your lip to stay quiet. “No,” Bucky growled. “Lemme hear you.” His fingers flicked your clit harshly and you cried out with the sudden pain mixed with pleasure. “There ya go…” He murmured and his fingers ran up and down your pussy, getting his fingers wet. He was murmuring to himself, but you weren’t listening to him. His fingers were so close to where you were aching, but he wasn’t touching you.

“Please,” you whined.

“Please, what?”

“Sarge! Please!” He hummed and pulled his fingers back. You heard him fumble and then you felt his cock moving against your pussy. He groaned softly. “Please!” You begged again. Bucky just growled and he slid inside of you.

“Fuck─” He gasped and panted, hands slapping the ground next to your head, he towered over your pleasure-wrung body. “Tight,” he snarled between his clenched teeth. “Tight as fuck, holy shit, baby girl.” You hummed and whimpered, nails scratching his back and leaving red marks on his skin. “Yes,” Bucky said, “Touch me, mark me, baby, do it!”

You cried out as he pulled back and slammed back in harshly. You dug your nails into his meaty back, dragging them down, you held onto him tight. His hips were driving into you at a harsh, punishing pace, but both of you were loving it. His cock was hitting every spot that had you click every time you played with yourself. You cried out with each hit of his hips against yours. The slick sound of your meeting were filling the room, driving you both even crazier. Your head lolled to your side and you caught a glimpse of his sweat-slicked body moving on top of yours like an oiled machine and you gasped, back arching, you came on the spot.

“Wha─” Bucky gasped, too, with the sudden vice-like tightness around his cock. He lifted his head where he had buried into the crook of your neck and looked at you, surprised. You moaned as your legs shook. “Honey─” Your back fell back on the ground and you tried to catch your breath.

“The mirror,” you gasped, your clit was still throbbing wildly. Bucky groaned and closed his eyes for a second and then opened them again, eyes turning towards the mirror. A devilish smirk appeared on his face when he understood what just happened. He sat up on his haunches and he turned you onto your belly with one move.

“Fuck─” you moaned, “Bucky─” He slapped your ass once, the stinging pain reminding you what you did wrong. “Sarge. ‘m sorry, Sarge.” Bucky hummed and he manhandled your body towards the mirror. He pulled you up against his chest and placed his right arm on your stomach while his scarred one wrapped your shoulders. He sat back against the bed, taking the same position that you sucked him on.

“Look at the mirror, honey,” he murmured into your ear. You whimpered and did as he said. You gasped at the sight. You could see where your body ended and his had begun. You could see the throbbing thick vein of his cock disappearing into your abused-looking pussy. One of your nipples was pink from Bucky’s suckling and beard. Your neck was red because Bucky was hiding his face there before you came around his cock. You looked fucked thoroughly while you haven’t actually gotten around to it.

“Sarge,” you moaned. Bucky kissed the sensitive skin just beneath your ear and sucked on your earlobe.

“I know, darlin’,” he murmured. “Hold on tight.” You did, grabbing his arms around your body, you held tight, and he started to move.

His hips were thrusting upwards like a mad man; his balls were hitting against the slicked skin and creating an obscene sound, the muscles on his thighs were jumping with each thrust. Your pussy was making the slickest sounds, though. Your breath hitched as you moaned, and your head fell against his shoulder.

“Eyes on the mirror,” he ordered, and your eyes snapped open. You found his eyes on the mirror and looked into them. They had a wild look in them; something dark and desperate was lurking around. You moaned pitifully. Bucky grunted. The pace he was going at it became faster, and you knew that both of you were so close.

“Sarge─ Bucky!” You whined as his left hand sneaked towards your pussy and started to roll your clit between his fingers. Your eyes rolled back even though you tried to hold them on the mirror like you’ve been ordered to.

“Come,” he sneered, “Come for me, darlin’, c’mon.” His cock was driving and stroking deep, deep inside of you and you knew it wasn’t a hardship to do what he said. You screamed, shouted and cried out as you tightened around him and came for a second time. Bucky grunted behind you when your pussy squeezed him. His balls were hitting you more harshly; his cock was harder than before.

“Sarge!” You moaned, “Come for me, Sarge, please! Come in me, please, please!” You chanted as you dug your nails into his arm. Bucky gasped, a loud and raspy moan left his mouth and he came. His thighs twitching under you, you felt his cock throb. His thick come washing your walls, Bucky panted hotly behind you.

Both of you panted for a while, trying to get your breathings in control. You melted in Bucky’s strong embrace long before. He was lax behind you, and you were happy.

“We are doing this again,” he murmured, “and again, and again… After you let me take you out on a date, maybe?” You chuckled and looked at him over your shoulder. He looked sheepish and a little unsure. You knew it must be a bit hard for him to do so when you considered his past. You kissed his cheek.

“Of course,” you agreed easily. “Though, you don’t have to take me on a date to do this again and again… I won’t mind is what I’m sayin’,” you grumbled. It was Bucky’s turn to chuckle. He started to place kisses all over your shoulder, neck and cheek.

“Okay,” he said, voice quiet. You hummed happily as you buried yourself into his warm body even more. Then, you realized something.

“Sarge, huh?” You joked. Bucky groaned.

“Shut it,” he grumbled. “It’s─ bleh, whatever.”

“Yeah, okay,” you said, but the taste of having him blush because of your joking was too delicious. “But seriously, though. Sarge.”

Bucky growled and he laid you on the ground, over your belly as he covered your body with his large one. “I said shut it.” You looked at him with sparkling eyes.

“Why don’t you make me, Jamie boy?”

The twinkles in his eyes were nothing but promising.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #roommate!bucky #modern!bucky

[dongofthewolf]

Dancing in the Deepest Oceans- Chapter 3

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Your first date with Abby doesn’t go quite as planned.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, swearing, angst, hurt/comfort, uhhh yea I did that

Here’s chapter three! It definitely took way longer than I expected to do since I really wanted to get a lot of those requests done, so I’m v sorry about that.

Also I kinda cheated and included someone’s request for a bath scene with Abby in this so shhhhh it’s fine I’m just lazy productive like that okay LOL. I hope you all enjoy (esp if you requested the scene) ! :)

Read the previous chapter here

You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. You felt like the protagonist in one of those cheesy rom-coms from back in the day; the ones where the girl suddenly stumbles into the arms of her true love and everyone sings a happy song, except this isn’t a movie and also it’s kind of the apocalypse or whatever. You didn’t care though, this was the closest thing to rom-com perfection you were getting and you couldn’t complain, because it was with her.

Though you had only known Abby for a few short days, something inside you couldn’t help but feel like you had known her your entire life. The intimacy of those few stolen glances, the slight brushes of your shoulders, the way your hand fit perfectly in hers; it all felt so natural. You just hoped she felt the same way. 

--

She should be here.

You glanced down at your watch again, it was 8:15. Maybe you had heard her wrong? No, she definitely said eight o clock. Your mind swarmed with possible excuses as to why she wasn’t here; perhaps she thought you were meeting at seven and now she was the one who thought you were standing her up, or maybe she thought you guys were meeting at your room and this was the fault of some kind of miscommunication, or maybe she simply forgot. You racked your brain for any possibilities as to why she wasn’t here, trying your best to neglect the most obvious reason out of denial or maybe fear.

The hallway was dark and quiet, the tile floor cold against your skin as you sat with your knees tucked tightly against your chest. Your back ached from leaning against the steel door, and you had become increasingly more embarrassed every time someone passed by. Their lingering gazes made you want to disappear into the earth beneath you. 

For at least an hour, you sat outside her door contemplating whether or not you should wait for her. Was this whole thing a mistake? Your heart began to sink at the frightening possibility that she had been toying with your feelings this whole time, that you were just a naive girl with a childish crush on this person you barely even knew. God, how could you have been so stupid? This is exactly why you never formed attachments; they always ended in heartbreak, disappointment, or both. As more time passed, the fear and sadness that occupied your thoughts slowly began to fade into frustration.

This was dumb. Why were you waiting around for her like some lost kitten? You scoffed at how pathetic you felt. Anger began to rise in your chest as you thought of all the things you’d say to her when you saw her—how you’d scold her for standing you up, dreaming up this gigantic speech about how if she wasn’t interested she should’ve just told you. Or maybe instead of yelling you would just never speak to her again. Give her the silent treatment for the rest of your life. That is what she wanted anyways, right? 

As you sat there arguing silently with yourself you heard a pair of heavy footsteps headed towards you. You craned your neck to try and see who or what was approaching you, but the hallway was too dark to get a clear view. Panic quickly replaced the anger that had been occupying your heart just seconds ago as you stood up from your uncomfortable position. You could hear the adrenaline pumping in your ears as you squint your eyes at the dark figure headed towards you. A sudden rush of relief fell over you when a familiar face appeared out of the shadows.

“Y/N.” Manny emerged from the darkness. His hair was slicked back into a bun and he wore a nervous expression on his face. The sole of his boots were caked with a thick layer of mud that left a trail of footprints in the hallways, and you pitied the poor soul who would have to clean it up.

“Where’s Abby?” There was a sharpness to your words. You knew you should've been a bit more conversational (Manny had done nothing to you after all), but after sitting on the floor for an hour, you didn’t feel like wasting time on bullshit small talk. If Abby was going to send Manny to get rid of you instead of doing it herself, then the last thing you cared about right now was seeming polite.

“Right, about that…” You raised your eyebrow, Manny’s expression was difficult to interpret and you could tell he was here to break some kind of news to you, but for some reason it felt like whatever bomb he was about to drop was far worse than what you had expected.

“Manny, what’s going on?” You took a small step towards him, searching his face for an answer.

“Isaac sent Abby and I on a supply run this morning. Nothing too difficult, just transporting a few things to another base but…” Manny looked down at his feet as he contemplated his next words “but we ran into a group of scars on our way back and we got separated.”

You suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for thinking all those things about Abby. “W-what do you mean you got separated? Where’s Abby now?” 

Manny’s eyes were fixed to the floor as he delivered the news, his thumbs twiddling together nervously. “I uh… well, I don’t know.” Manny noticed your face twist with anger at his answer and tried to diffuse some of it “But Isaac’s already sent out a group to find her. It’s going to be okay Y/N, Abby is one of Isaac’s top soldiers and you know he’ll do whatever he can to find her.”

You were speechless, but more than anything you were frustrated. Frustrated at yourself for thinking such horrible things about Abby—for having such little faith in her. You wanted to scream at your past self for being so ignorant. Tears began to well in your eyes and Manny’s words did little to comfort you.

“I should be out there.” You marched down the hallway determined to find Abby but Manny was quicker.

His hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back “You can’t go out there Y/N, you’ll die. Abby’s smart, okay? She’ll find her way back.” 

You tried to resist his grip on your wrist even though you knew he was right. You weren’t a soldier nor did you have the proper training to leave the outpost alone. And while a large part of you knew it was stupid to try and leave, a much bigger part of you didn’t care. You had to find Abby; you were willing to do anything, even if that meant putting yourself in harm's way. 

“I don’t care, I have to go out there.” You managed to yank yourself free from his grip and booked it towards the door but Manny was quick and caught you. Wrapping his arms around your stomach and hoisting you over his shoulder Manny carried you into his and Abby’s room while you fought and cried like a little kid. 

“Fucking let go of me Manny!” Tears stained your cheeks as you sobbed into Manny’s shirt. 

When Manny finally set you down on his bed you were exhausted from crying; the only thing left in your heart now was an overwhelming feeling of helplessness. You weren’t even allowed to leave the outpost to look for Abby, and the only thing you could do was sit in this wretched room praying she didn’t get mauled by a clicker or hung by a Seraphite. 

Manny didn’t feel any better about this than you did, in fact it was his job as Abby’s partner to watch out for her and he failed. Now his best friend was missing and it’s all his fault. The guilt weighed heavily on Manny as he tried to comfort you while you wept silently into his pillow. Even though he couldn’t have possibly predicted the surprise attack, he still felt like this entire thing was his doing. He tried to plead with Isaac to let him go back out and search for Abby but he refused, so Manny figured keeping you safe was the least he could do. 

Hours later you got up from Manny’s bed to use the bathroom, and he was nowhere to be found. You figured he probably went to bother Isaac about Abby or something, he was persistent like that.

You splashed some cold water on your face before tipping your head under the faucet to help ease the dryness in your throat. When you brought your head back up you almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at you in the mirror. Your eyes were red and puffy and there were dark circles under your eyes like you haven’t slept in days. You looked like a mess. Your hair was wild and unruly but at least with that outfit you had spent way too long picking out, you still looked pretty cute. 

At least you were a hot mess.

The longer you stared at yourself in the mirror, the more unrecognizable your face became. And then for reasons you couldn’t explain, you started laughing. A hysterical laugh that echoed off the walls in the bathroom like a sick symphony fell unwillingly from your mouth, and you couldn’t stop. There was something so incredibly sardonic about the events of these past few hours, that your body just decided to break out into a breathless cackle. It was a twisted reaction to a terrifying situation but for some reason it wouldn’t go away. Your stomach began to ache and your throat was dry and sore again. It felt like this sickening nightmare would never end. 

You felt tears begin to well up again when you heard something that immediately shook you from your shocked state: the rattling of the doorknob.

Your heart swelled with hope as you ran towards the door, not concerned about waking up the people in the rooms next door with your loud footsteps. The door creaked open, flooding the dark room with a pale yellow light that blinded you, and from that light emerged a figure you knew all too well— one that you had become intimately familiar with.

Abby limped through the door, at first not even realizing you were standing right there. You were looming in the darkness like some kind of monster, and you tried to speak but nothing came out. The only thing that snapped you out of it was the sound of Abby’s voice, hoarse and hushed like she was speaking into the darkness rather than you. God, you almost forgot how much you loved the sound of her voice. 

“Y/N?” Abby wasn’t sure if she was imagining this. She thought maybe the expired pain meds had some hallucinatory side effects and you were just what she wanted to see the most. Abby’s doubts faded into nothing when you took a small step into the light. In that moment she knew that this was real—that you were real.

When your eyes finally adjusted to the harsh lights you saw her face and gasped. To say Abby was in rough shape would be putting it lightly. There were cuts and bruises all over her face and body, and her clothes were absolutely filthy, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. You ran into her arms to embrace her tightly and Abby winced at the contact. Quickly you pulled back out of fear you hurt her, but Abby’s arms wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you back in.

Abby let out a loud exhale and for a small moment the jabbing pains all over her body ceased to exist. The only thing occupying her mind was the warmth of your body—how she could feel your heart beating with how tightly she was holding you, and she could finally exhale.

When you pulled away, a flood of emotions suddenly began to flow through you, filling you to the brim until the only words you could manage to mutter out through choked sobs were “I thought you were-“

“I know. I’m sorry.” There was a somber expression on Abby’s face as she wiped the tears from your cheek with the pads of her thumbs. 

You sniffed, looking up at her, you cleared your throat before speaking “Jesus Abby, your face.“ you softly grabbed Abby’s chin, examining her injuries in the light. There were crimson slices all over her face, and she was beaten black and blue. A particularly deep cut on her forehead had been stitched carefully and there was a cotton bandage wrapped around her left forearm. The state of your distress now seemed like peanuts compared to Abby’s state.

Without thinking you hugged Abby again tightly, revelling in the comfort of her embrace. Abby’s eyes were closed when you wrapped your arms around her, her eyebrows were furrowed and you weren’t sure if she was about to cry or scream. Though you didn’t know much about Abby, you did know she was a soldier—a warrior who wasn’t disturbed easily. You had no idea what she had just been through, but whatever happened had shaken her up pretty good. 

“Here.” Bringing your arms up to the strap of her backpack, you helped her ease it off her shoulder. She let out a breath of relief as you lifted the weight from her back and placed it near the door. 

Looking at Abby now you finally realized how dirty she was. There was mud and grime all over her clothes and her braid was loose and unruly. 

“Hey, uh I’ll run a bath for you, just wait here.” Considering her state you figured a bath would be more relaxing than a shower. Besides, you needed to feel useful right now, and if that meant taking care of Abby for a bit? You didn’t mind at all.

Hesitantly, you made your way to the bathroom and laid out a small towel on the tile floor. Turning on the faucet, you placed the plug in the tub and made your way to Abby, guiding her to the edge of the tub. “Let me know if the water is too hot, okay?”

Abby nodded as she ran her hand under the running water, letting the warmth fall between her fingers. When the tub was full, you turned off the faucet and stood up, using Abby’s shoulders to help steady you as you started for the door but something stopped you. 

“Wait-“ You stopped, Abby’s hand was over the one you placed on your shoulder, securing it there so you wouldn’t leave. She looked at you with pleading eyes as she spoke “Can… can you stay?” Abby didn’t say anything more but you could tell by the look in her eyes she needed you here. 

“Sure. I’ll turn around and you can get undressed.” You turned to face the door, looking down at the tile floor as you traced the crevices with your finger. The only sound that could be heard was the droplets of water that fell from the faucet echoing against the walls and the soft rustling of Abby removing her clothes. Eventually you heard Abby lower herself into the tub, she let out a loud sigh as the tension in her muscles dissipated from the warm water.

“You can turn around now.” Abby’s voice was quiet when she finally spoke.

Slowly you turned around to see Abby sitting in the tub, her legs tucked against her chest as she hugged herself tightly. Her eyes were fixed on the floor of the tub while she rested her chin on her knee. It broke your heart when you saw her injuries in the light. There were deep purple bruises along her shoulder blades and scabbed over cuts along her arms and legs. You also saw scars, a lot of them. Some were old and faded, while others were new, probably sustained within the last couple of weeks.

The steam from the water floated up, fogging the mirrors and warming the room. You made your way to the edge of the tub with a small washcloth, dipping it into the water just slightly. “Here.”

Bringing your finger to Abby’s chin you lifted her eyes to face yours. Her features softened when you met her gaze and lightly you brought the washcloth to her face. Careful to avoid the stitches on her forehead, you rid the dirt from her face, dipping the cloth into the water every once in a while before bringing it back to her face.

Her freckles were more prominent in the light and her eyes stuck attentively studying your movements. When all the grime was gone, you couldn’t help but notice a whisper of a blush on Abby’s cheeks. 

“One hell of a first date, huh?” Abby spoke seriously but you could see a hint of a smirk on the edge of her mouth. A bit of her normal self was beginning to return.

Sitting up more straight now you gave her a small smile. “This is definitely the most interesting one I’ve ever been on.” 

You reached for her braid, undoing the elastic and separating the strands from each other while Abby spoke. “Oh so you’ve never bathed someone during a first date?”

“I can confidently say that this is my first.” Grabbing the small bar of soap from the dish in the corner, you dipped it into the water and lathered it between your fingers. 

The soap filled the air with the scent of pine and rain and you sighed at the smell. It filled your senses and reminded you of the first time you saw her. Not the time in the cafeteria but on that rainy day when you bumped into her for the first time. You inhaled deeply; it smelled like her.

Gently you began massaging the bubbles into Abby’s hair. Weaving the blonde locks through your fingers, and purposely taking longer than necessary. Watching closely as Abby’s muscles relaxed and her eyes fluttered closed from your touch. 

“Lean back.” Shielding her face from the water you grabbed a cup and poured the water over her head, letting the bubbles wash away from her scalp and into the water. “Is this okay?” 

Abby hummed in response and you took that as a yes. You repeated the process while you washed the soap from her hair, doing it a couple more times than needed because you knew it calmed her. 

The bathroom was quiet again, the only sound coming from the steady flow of water from the cup onto her head, and into the water. It was peaceful, and the both of you were content in this familiar silence. Appreciating each other’s company without the need to fill the air.

When you were done you sat up and laid out a towel for Abby, drying your hands on your shirt. “I’ll grab you some clean clothes, just give me a sec.” 

You left Abby to dry off while you searched for some clean clothes. Grabbing what you assumed was a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants, you made your way back to the bathroom. Standing outside the door, you knocked lightly. “Can I come in?” 

Before you could wait for an answer, Abby opened the door a bit, hiding herself behind it. You handed Abby the clothes and she gave you an appreciative smile, it was small but genuine. “Thanks.” 

You sat beside the bathroom door waiting for Abby and trying not to think about the fact that she could’ve died out there. She was here and that’s all that mattered for now.

Your mind wandered as you picked at your sleeve, you noticed there were a few wet spots on your shirt from the edge of the tub. The cool air made you shiver and you regretted not bringing a sweater, even if this was supposed to be a night in. 

When Abby finally emerged from the bathroom you quickly stood up, unsure of what to do next. Her hair was still damp and spread across her shoulders; this was the first time you had ever seen her without that signature braid and you were in awe of how beautiful she looked. It was such a strange thought but it was the only thing occupying your mind. There was something so rare about seeing her like this that you couldn’t stop the flutter in your heart when it happened. 

Grabbing her hand, you led her to the bed on the opposite side of Manny’s and pulled the covers back so she could slip in. When she settled under the sheets you neatly tucked her in before standing up again. 

You didn’t know what to do now. Would it be rude to stay? Abby clearly needed the rest, but something in you desperately wanted to stay. You decided to let her sleep and started towards the door when you heard a small voice from beneath the covers. “Stay. Please.”

Abby’s voice was quiet and you could hear the exhaustion behind it. You looked at her with a smile and sat down on the bed next to her, pushing a strand of hair from her forehead before smoothing it down softly. She looked at you apologetically as you caressed her head, and  you gave her a look of reassurance even if you were scared out of your mind. Her eyes fluttered closed and her features softened from your touch. You stayed like this for a while, continuing even after her breathing had slowed and you knew she was asleep.

You stayed up watching her sleep; studying the way her mouth was slightly agape as she let out small breaths. She looked so peaceful.

A small teardrop escaped from your eye, and you quickly wiped it away. You knew this wasn’t going to be the last time she’d be like this; battered and bruised and fighting a war that seemed to never end. It hurt your heart to know that she was on this path of self-destruction, but what hurt most was knowing she’d likely never stop. 

You tried not to think about that right now. Eventually letting your attention fall onto the wet shirt that was still stuck to different parts of your body. Removing the item you walked over to the drawer where you had found the clothes for Abby and slipped on one of her t-shirts. It was devastatingly oversized on you but it was warm and smelled like her. 

You settled onto the space next to Abby’s bed, ignoring the ache in your back as you lay flat on the floor beneath you. Though the pain was worth enduring with the knowledge that Abby was here, and that’s all that mattered to you right now. 

While you lay on the floor you began thinking about how different things were just hours ago. It wasn’t long ago that you were practically dancing like an idiot in your mirror because you were going on a date with Abby. It’s strange how many emotions you had gone through in one day, you were almost positive you had broken some kind of record. You chuckled at yourself; surely no one was going to spontaneously break out into a song like in the movies, but you didn’t mind. This was enough— being here with Abby was enough. 

Eventually, exhaustion overtook your body and you quickly felt your eyes becoming heavier. The floor was beginning to feel a lot more comfier than when you had sat down and before you knew it, you had fallen into a deep slumber.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson imagine #the last of us imagine #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us 2 #fxf #fluff #angst #definitely did not use a The Cure song for my chapter title

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier dark academia AU of my dreams (because writing these up keeps me sane; TLDR at the bottom because this escalated):

-Jaskier is so ready for college. Like, the readiest he's ever been for anything in his life. He couldn't wait to get out of his stuffy family home, away from his narrow-minded hometown, he is ready. He signs up for a Liberal Arts major, moves into a dorm, drinks his brains away during the first week. He makes an archnemesis, he makes friends, he live-documents the whole affair on Snapchat for his friend Triss who lives across the country, but is always with him in spirit. Life is good.

-Jaskier doesn't think twice when his roommate Zoltan invites him to come along to a party at the Kaer Morhen fraternity house because hello? Orientation week was last month, high time he goes to an actual frat party full of guys like wardrobes that eminate sexual self-assuredness and hopefully some sexual flexibility as well. He puts on his most revealing shirt and too tight jeans and joins Zoltan. The fraternity house is old, red-brick with sandstone pillars and iron-wrought gates which would seem rusty if not for the ivy that curls around them. It's chock-full with people of every kind of major and age, most of them drunk beyond reason by the time Jaskier and Zoltan arrive. Zoltan disappears in a tangle of rugby-players and leaves Jaskier to his own devices. He befriends a group of Archeology majors, their leader being a cute blond called Filavandrel, and they share a bottle of red wine, round and round. He meets his archnemesis, the one he spent all orientation week bickering about music with, Valdo or some nonsense, and they do tequila shots. It’s a nice party and Jaskier has the time of his life until he returns from the bathroom to find a god of a guy standing in the hallway.

-"Oh hello," Jaskier mutters under his breath. Before, his evening was aimless, he let the wave of the vibe take him wherever, let the alcohol blur the world around him. But now, he has an objective. And that objective stands all by his lonesome, scowling down the hallway. Man, does he brood well. Jaskier usually goes for people that are easy to read if some casual fun is what he has in mind -and it's not out of his mind just yet - but this guy intrigues him; there is more to him than simple dudebro-ness. He has shock-grey hair and startling amber eyes and seems to cast the longest shadow. Jaskier wants to ride him. Jaskier also wants to serenade him on a starlit wooden bridge and collect all the guy's deepest secrets and desires to keep under his pillow and draw divine inspiration from. Okay, that may be the Tequila shots talking. He scurries over to the bar, downs another two, then approaches the guy.

-"Hi," Jaskier says as he sidles up to him. The guy half-heartedly raises his beer in greeting.  Taciturn, dark, dramatic. Jaskier decides to go for it. "I absolutely adore the way you just stand here and brood." (Jaskier will only learn much much later that he accidentally used some weird Kaer Morhen frat code and set off a chain of events that changed his life forever). "Lamb," the guy calls out instead of answering, something that makes Jaskier think he's so far gone that he's actively hallucinating. But no, seconds later a guy with equally lush red hair and equally thick arms appears from the crowd. He wears a scowl which has Jaskier's throat tighten. "What is it, Wolf?" Wolf, huh? "Go collect Goat and Kitty-Cat. I found him." And Wolf-Guy grabs Jaskier by the back of the neck and hauls him through a door, down some stairs - is that marble? are those torches? GARGOYLES? - and into pitch blackness. Jaskier squeals. This is what he imagined when he dreamt of college. Well not exactly this, but close enough.

-They bind him with silk scarfs and put a blindfold over his eyes which, okay. Jaskier knows he shouldn't find this as sexy as he does, but he can't help it. He has no sense of self-preservation and this will just be the best of fuel for the first assignment in his screenwriting class. "Oh, this is fun," he murmurs when someone tugs off his boots and someone else smears a fatty paste onto his lips. It smells like... okay it smells lot like his uncle Matthew's pigsty. Weirdly disgusting. "Who are you guys anyway?"

-They don't speak at all that night, don't take off the blind-fold until way later. All night, Jaskier can hear them rustling around him, chanting in some language he doesn't understand. They give him several drinks, most of which honestly taste like asphalt, but make his insides go fuzzy. When the blindfold comes off eventually, Jaskier finds himself on the front-seat of a pick up truck, Wolf guy behind the wheel. They are parked behind the frat house. "Look, I don't think you're a suitable candidate. The guys all said they want to keep you, but my friend recognized you from the freshman introduction party and we usually only inaugurate sophomores." Jaskier blinks. He has absolutely no idea what's going in anymore. His friend Triss is probably worried sick because he hasn't checked in all evening. The faint taste of burned rubber clings to his lips and all Jaskier can think is: Fuck, is this man hot. "Go out with me," he blurts. "Go out with me, I'll show you how suitable I am."

-Over the course of a month's worth of introductions, preparation and inauguration traditions (which, among other things, have him dropped butt-naked in the middle of the forest, requiring him to find his way back to campus; have him spend more time learning long-dead languages than he is comfortbale with; have him getting thoroughly intimate with Eskel's (Goat) helper syndrome, Lambert (Lamb) and Aiden's (Kitty-Cat) ostentatiously loud fucking, Coen's (Hawk) frequent absences and Geralt's (Wolf) quiet, but passionate idealism) Jaskier learns the truth at the core of Kaer Morhen. It is more than a fraternity, it is a brotherhood of students that spend their free time in rituals to protect the college, its city, likely even the whole state from supernatural creatures that threaten to cross over into the world. The existence of these is no surprise to Jaskier who's come out of an adolescence of escapism and coping through fiction and song, but the fact that there are handsome tough guys who work to banish him is too much of a dream to be true. It is true. Unofficially, the call themselves Witchers. They catch wraiths in cricles of runes, they re-direct necrophages into Kaer Morhen's basement and slay them with blades of silver. They brew potions and cast minor spells to get rid of mutated insectoids. And Jaskier is to be one of them. They call him Lark.

-His first ritual goes bat-shit wrong. Jaskier is reasonably sure he did everything right, but the wraith doesn't stay contained after they bound it . "Fuck," Geralt growns after, pressing a cloth to the gaping wound in Jaskier's shoulder while they wait for Eskel to whip out the first aid kit. Jaskier shudders, can taste blood. "There shouldn't be fireflies here, right?" - "Ah, nope," Lambert says. He keeps snapping his fingers before Jaskier's eyes. "Hey, Lark, stay with us, okay?" - "He's fine," Aiden says, inspecting his nails. "If anything, it's Geralt we should be worried about. He's about to have a full blown panic attack." Geralt grunts and holds Jaskier closer.

-"Does this mean I can ask Priscilla to let me copy her homework," Jaskier asks later. He's in bed, bundled up in one of Kaer Morhen's bedrooms. Portraits of alumni line the wall and a hearth crackles away. Geralt sits next to the bed, a pretense-book on his lap. His eyes bore into Jaskier, wide, haunted. "Jask," he breathes out shakily. - "Hello, big guy. How are we doing?" - "Better now that you're awake. We... we had to call in Vesemir. He will want to talk to you." - "Alright, okay," Jaskier says. He knows who Vesemir is of course, but he has no idea what exactly his job entails or what having to talk to him means. "Geralt?" - "Hmm?" - "What did I do wrong?" - "Nothing. You were uncharacteristically precise... but it turns out I was right all along. You're not suited for this kind of work." - "Because I'm not big and buff like all of you?" Jaskier asks, pouting. Geralt has the audacity to laugh. But he also takes Jaskier's hands and kisses his knuckles and huh? What? Jaskier's brain short-circuits. Fuck when did he fall so hard for Geralt? "No, Jask, you're perfect. I mean, uh, ah, perfectly annoying." That bastard. "The wraith went crazy because it turns out you're an amplifier. That means supernatural creatures are pulled to you and can draw from you to manifest easier in our world. You wouldn't have noticed this unless you ever passed by a spot where the spheres overlap significantly. As it is, your participation in the ritual poses a danger." - "TLDR: I'm fired?" - "That's for Vesemir to decide... truth be told, I don't want you to go. But I can't stand the thought of you being in danger. Because of me, this." - "Go out with me, Geralt. Please. One coffee," Jaskier practically begs. Yes, his shoulder is minced meat and he feels exhausted from the blood loss but Geralt has never been this open and honest with him. "...fine."

-Jaskier heals up under the diligent care of his friends. Priscilla is allowed over too, practically drags him though his classes with tutoring and copies of her homework and sugar-coated emails to his various professors. Triss video-calls him three times a day. Eskel's med school expertise leaves Jaskier with the most neat scar he is ever going to get out of this, Lambert and Aiden hang out to play Gwent with him, a strange card game they invented and custom-painted, Coën even pops in to bring Jaskier his guitar and a venti Matcha Tea Latte even though the nearest Starbucks is miles away. Geralt... Geralt is there almost all the way. He sleeps in the chair at first, then - on Jaskier's stern insistence - in the bed with him, though careful to keep his distance. He helps Jaskier into the shower, something so strangely intimate without feeling innately sexual, he takes him out on slow walks. Geralt doesn't talk much, but Jaskier knows he feels responsible. It's fine. Sure. Absolutely fine. Jaskier is so far gone for this man by the time he moves back into his own dorm that he considers getting injured again just to have Geralt by his side. They never do go out for coffee.

-Vesemir doesn't so much invite Jaskier as have him called out of his choir session by a girl about Jaskier's age. She has the same hair color as Geralt and Jaskier thinks he's seen her around Kaer Morhen's bigger parties. "Hello, Jaskier," she says sweetly, but one look at her tells Jaskier she's deadlier than any of the frat boys. If his drunk memory serves correctly she also does a phenomenal keg stand. "Ves sends me to collect you." Which has Jaskier even more impressed with her. None of the boys dare to call him anything but Vesemir or Sir, even when he's not around. - "I've been expecting this," Jaskier says, shouldering his bag. The girl laughs and grabs his arm to guide him out of the building and across campus. - "You are cute," she says. "Geralt said so, but I thought that was just because he's so infatuated with you. I'm Ciri, by the way, his younger sister." Infatuated, huh? Jaskier has just enough brainspace left to save her name. Ciri. They will have to become very good friends. Infatuated.

-It turns out, Vesemir isn't half as scary as the boys made him out to be. He's closer to sixty than fifty, has a stern face, but a kindly voice and the first thing he does after dismissing Ciri with a meaningful glance is offer Jaskier a glass of whiskey. Jaskier sneaks a photograph of the bottle's label when Vesemir stands at the window and glances down at the campus, hands clasped behind his back. Triss will never believe this. It's the sort of alcohol that exists only in myth, at least to college students. "So, Mr. Pankratz. I'm afraid apologies are in order." - "Please, I prefer Jaskier." - "I know," Vesemir says and turns. "I would kindly ask you to delete that picture, my office and its contents fall under the terms of the non-disclosure agreement you signed when entering our brotherhood." Jaskier gulps heavily, the whiskey suddenly sour on his tongue. But he's quick to paste over a smile. He's gotten this far with the mysterious Kaer Morhen fraternity, he can pull all the way through. He deletes the picture. "Good," Vesemir says. "Now down to business." Vesemir gives him two options. Jaskier can consult a local magical artisan and have his memories of Kaer Morhen's true purpose removed. It is an easy procedure, won't cost him anything. Except for his new-found friends and the love he feels for Geralt. Except for the only place he's ever truly felt at home. Jaskier chooses the latter option which is to become the fraternity's chronicler.

-After that, things are supposed to calm down and they do, for a bit. Geralt still dodges any and all attempts Jaskier makes at flirting even though it's evident his resolve is thinning out. Jaskier observes and documents the rituals, begins to collect old notebooks. He's planning to go above and beyond his job and compile a comprehensive history of Kaer Morhen and its members before he's graduated. He may not be able to partake in the rituals or help the guys protect this city from monsters, but he can play his part. Leave behind a legacy.

-Between that and his normal studies, hanging out with his theater group, meeting Triss on alternate weekends and throwing epic frat parties, all of Jaskier's time is consumed. There are several instances in which Geralt and him almost manage to have their coffee, but then they have Eskel on the phone because Lambert and Aiden managed to give themselves poisoning over a simple Endrega job, or Priscilla needs an emergency stand-in for her weekly performances at a local bar, or Jaskier is simply too tired and falls into bed, sleeping over Zoltan's aggressive snoring. Jaskier doesn't mind so much. They catch glimpses of intimacy, Geralt's hand on the small of his back as he guides him downstairs for another ritual, a good night kiss on the cheeks once it's done, a spot of quiet homework-doing in Kaer Morhen's common room together, their legs pressed close under the table. One of these days, Jaskier will find the courage to close the last bridge between them. He just wants to wait until Geralt seems absolutely comfortable with it.

-All is as well as can be until Vesemir comes up with an idea. Because more and more creatures have been getting through and they are unable to hold off all, he wants to capture one of them, an Archgriffin, to bind in their world and act as guardian against lesser creatures. "You're mad," Aiden says. "That's fucking brilliant." - "It's a good idea," Eskel and Coën agree. Lambert keeps exchanging grim glances with Geralt because they both know what this means. They will have to use Jaskier to lure the beast. Which is why they both protest the idea heavily and Geralt gets into a fight with Vesemir. Jaskier is not there for it, but Aiden and Lambert tell him later, once he's back from theatre rehearsal. He watches them fight over it too and then it's only him and Lambert. Jaskier steals one of Zoltan's bottles of spirits and they get stupidly drunk, wandering around campus all night until Eskel collects them and tucks them into bed at Kaer Morhen. "I will not stand to lose you," Lambert slurs, arm dragged over Jaskier's chest. "You're like, almost my best friend. Plus, Wolf would be devastated." - "Aiden seems to think it'll be fine," Jaskier says, snuggling up to Lambert. - "Yeah, fuck him." They fall asleep like that and the first thing Geralt does when he finds them is kick Lambert all the way down the stairs.

-In the end, Geralt and Lambert are outvoted, not that they can stop Vesemir. Geralt is more silent than usual throughout prep and Jaskier can't seem to cheer him up. He knows his life is likely on the line, but he wants to help so badly. These guys are his family after all. If he can make their lives a little easier by doing this... well, he wants to. He needs to. Being in Kaer Morhen is the first time he seems to have a purpose other than writing angsty teenage songs. Eskel keeps checking up on him. Vesemir writes preliminary excuses for all Jaskier's exams which leave him with only A's, something Priscilla does not appreciate in the slightest. Lambert and Aiden fight and fight and won't stop fighting over this whole affair until Jaskier sits them down and makes them talk. Geralt... remains quiet. Jaskier can tell he doesn't sleep. Can tell he rarely eats. He decides now is as good a time as ever.

-It's the night before and the others have all returned to their dorms, but Jaskier stayed in Kaer Morhen under the pretext of Zoltan having his girlfriend over, and Geralt rarely ever goes home. He has a flat off campus, but Jaskier suspects it's drab and lonely. He gets it. Kaer Morhen has soft fluffly beds and fire places and wards and books. Currently, it has the two of them, bundled up in one of the upstairs rooms. They share an armchair before a low fire, not an unusual sight for them, not anymore. And still, Geralt pretends they're just friends. It's ridiculous. "You know I'll be fine, right?" Jaskier says. He has his head tucked under Geralt's chin and has been humming show tunes under his breath for the last half hour, something that usually puts Geralt right to sleep. Not so now. "I can't know that," Geralt replies. He lifts Jaskier's hand which he's been holding and traces the veins on the back of it with his thumb. "You've no idea how dangerous the ritual is. Even more so with you being an amplifier." - "So protect me." - "I will. I promise, I will." - "Geralt, when are you going to finally give in?" Jaskier sighs and pulls back a little. Geralt stares at him, a little cross-eyed and Jaskier gives a shaky laugh. "I'm going to kiss you now. Pull back if you don't want to, but allow it and I'll never let you go." Geralt allows it, kisses back. It's the first night they indulge in a love that has been growing for almost a year and it's gloriously sweet, blazing, beautiful. It leaves Jaskier with faith that, even if things go sideways, Geralt will get them both out of it alive.

-The ritual goes well thanks to the Witchers' meticulous preparations, the dozen or so warding spells they put on Jaskier and Geralt's reflexes that save him from a swipe of the Griffin's claw. They bind the creature to one of the basement holding cells and celebrate with excessive amoutns of vodka and cake. "All is well that ends well, huh?" Jaskier asks from where he sits on Geralt's lap. Strong arms hold him and his chest is full of nightingales that flutter and sing. He watches Eskel drunkenly dance-offing with Coen in a corner, watches Lambert and Aiden make out in another. Vesemir took off, but Ciri is there, lounging next to them on the couch, nose buried in her phone. "I will never put you through such danger again," Geralt grunts, his nose buried in Jaskier's hair. "Of course, love." Jaskier relaxes into the embrace. All is well, though it is not nearly the end of this story.

-TLDR: Kaer Morhen is an occultist fraternity that keeps supernatural beings away from campus. Jaskier, unable to participate in the actual rituals due to a genetic predisposition, becomes their chronicler. Geralt worries a lot. Jaskier tries for the longest time to get him to go on a coffee date or something. Lambert and Aiden are a disaster couple. Eskel keeps them all together, literally and figuratively. Ciri is the one who got all the brain cells.

#witcher #the witcher #modern AU #dark academia AU #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #gerlion #geralt #jaskier #lambert #vesemir #eskel #aiden #coen #priscilla #zoltan #triss merigold #lambden #lambert x aiden #my writing #I just want someone to write this for me #novel length please #maybe I'll return to it one day #also greatly inspired by Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo #a fantastic novel #filavandrel #kaer morhen #college AU #headcanon #my geraskier dream AUs

[mermaidssonshipss]

scars & bruises

warnings: self-harm, depression, abuse, cursing

word count: 2,916

pairing(s): jj maybank x reader

Your fingers absentmindedly tugged at the edge of your shorts, pulling them over your thighs as you sat down on the beat up lawn chair. Your friends were sat around a small fire, all of them nursing a beer and laughing at some story JJ was telling. You smiled here and there, your eyes gazing out across the ocean in front of you tuning JJ’s words out, missing the way his blue eyes watched you closely with every word he spoke.

The day had been spent out on the HMS Pogue as it usually was, but your mind was far from the water. Just the night before, your step-father, Bill, had come home from work angrier than he had been in weeks, his fists and feet flying into your stomach leaving you covered in bruises. He knew to avoid your face, arms, and legs, as he knew you lived on the ocean, it was inevitable that those parts of your skin would make an appearance, which meant your stomach and back were usually the victims of his fury. For as long as the Pogue’s had known you, which was over 5 years ago when you moved there, they had never seen you in a bikini. Kie had brought it up to you before, wondering why, with a body like yours, you didn’t show it off. Not only did you always have a one-piece on, though you tried to always make sure it fit your chest perfectly so you had something to show off, you never took off whatever pair of your shorts you had on over it. You had simply shrugged and said it was how you felt most comfortable, and the topic was dropped. Your thighs were painted with various shades of self-inflicted scars, some new, some old, some healing, and you had managed to keep it a secret for as long as you had done it.

“Yo, earth to y/n,” Pope’s voice called, your head snapping from the ocean and to the direction of the group that was now watching you intently. 

“Sorry, just really tired today,” it was a lame excuse, but you were tired somewhat, your stomach aching from the night before with every breath you took had taken a lot out of you. 

“Go into the guest room, take a nap,” JJ spoke, his head darting towards the chateau, concern filling his eyes.

“He just wants to get you in his bed, don’t do it. Next thing you know you’ll wake up to him staring at you with his dick in his hand,” John B snorted, shoving JJ’s shoulder. The group laughed and JJ sent a punch into John B’s arm, muttering a quiet “Shut the fuck up” at the brunette haired boy.

“As tempting as that entire scenario sounds,” you chucked softly, pushing yourself off the chair flinching slightly as the pain got worse with every move, “I have to get home.” You saluted the group as they all sent you goodbyes, your figure retreating as you began your walk home.

***

“You’re late,” your mom spoke the second you walked through the front door, the clock on the wall reading 12:02. You had promised you’d be home by 12.

“By two minutes,” you whispered, your eyes darting around the living room looking for your step-father.

“Just hurry up the stairs, be quiet, and he won’t notice,” your mom rushed, her hands pushing you up the stairs to avoid your step-fathers anger.

The second your feet carried you into your room, you quietly shut the door behind you and let out the breath you had been holding. You quickly made your way into the bathroom attached to your room, stripping out of the shorts and swimsuit you had worn, your eyes falling to the mirror in-front of you. Tears slowly streamed down your cheeks as you looked at the deep bruises littering your stomach, a quiet sob reaching your throat as your fingers traced the fresh cuts on your thighs, your nails digging into them to re-open the wounds. When that wasn’t enough, you reached for the fresh razor you had stashed behind your shower curtain.

***

A week had passed since you last saw the Pogues. Your stepfather had lost his shit one night when you accidentally dropped a plate and broke it, and for the first time, his fist had collided with your face. He had continued his rage everyday after that, though once he saw the bruise covering your face he remembered to avoid the area. You were in too much pain to pretend like you were fine and run around with the Pogues, so you simply ignored them, or sent lame excuses back to them as to why you couldn’t show up. Bill had taken a break last night, letting your body heal, and though the bruise on your face was still nasty, covering your jaw and half of your cheek, you decided you needed to make an appearance before they decided to come to you.

Your black boot clad feet stepped into the chateau, a pair of tight ripped jeans covering your legs and one of JJ’s long-sleeved shirts adorning your upper half.

JJ had been the one in the friend group you gravitated towards the most when you were first being welcomed into the group. Your personalities matched well, and you balanced him out when he would get angry and try to start a fight. The truth about his dad had come out maybe a year into knowing him, and you had made it your mission to take care of JJ, to show him what it was like to be loved and cared for. You weren’t dating, though everyone on their side of the island had bets on when it would happen, but you were definitely in love with the blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy; you would never tell him though, just as you could never tell him the truth about what was going on in your home, or your own mind. He had too much to worry about on his own.

“Y/N!” John B spotted you first, his eyes widening as he jumped off the couch and ran towards you, his body slamming into yours as he gave you a tight hug. You took in a sharp breath at the impact, wrapping your arms around him anyway and ignoring the pain. Soon, the others, minus JJ, had joined and were wrapping you up, kisses being placed all over your face. None of them had noticed the bruise yet, too caught up in just seeing you to notice. Except for JJ.

“What happened to your face?” JJ’s jaw was clenched as he stood up, the Pogues now pulling away and taking a look at what JJ saw, their eyes widening. Kie brought her hand up and rested it on your cheek, causing you to flinch away.

“Nice to see you too, JJ,” you laughed half-heartedly, but none of them laughed along. JJ was now standing in front of you, his eyes scanning your figure. His hand reached out, tugging at your-his, shirt, his eyes locking with yours. He knew you had this shirt, you had stolen it from him years ago, but it would magically turn up here and there in his room, and he knew you left it for him to wear and wash so when you stole it again, it smelt like him, but he also knew you only wore it when you wanted to feel safe. You had told him before that he was the only person on this island that made you feel safe, and when you couldn’t be with him, you wore his shirt to feel like you were with him.

“Seriously, what happened?” Kie’s voice was quiet as she grabbed your hand lightly, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Guys, seriously, it’s okay. I’m just clumsy. Always have been. Fell on the way home the other night,” you were looking at JJ as you spoke, his hand still clutching onto the shirt you were wearing. The others nodded, believing the story, but JJ knew better.

“Bullshit,” he snapped, tugging you closer to him, his free hand coming up to stroke your cheek lightly. Instead of flinching as you had with Kie, you leaned into his touch. He looked at you for a moment, and that’s when it clicked. The reason you never wore a bikini, or shied away from touch and flinched when someone touched your stomach a certain way. His jaw tensed even more, if that was possible, and his hand moved from your shirt to your hand that Kie was holding, wrapping around your wrist and yanking you away from the group and into the guest room, you stumbled after him, sending the other Pogues an apologetic smile before you were out of sight and the door was closed.

“JJ,” you sighed as he closed the door, pushing you onto the edge of the bed so you were sitting and he was standing over you.

“In the 5 years we’ve known you, you have never just... disappeared like that before. We were all worried sick, Y/N, I was worried sick. And then you pop up with a nasty bruise on your face and just expect us, or me to accept “I’m clumsy!” and move on? They might’ve fallen for that, but I know you better than that” He was talking fast, his hands on his hips as he stared straight at you. All you could do was sit and listen, your fingers pulling the long-sleeves of his shirt over your hands, trying to shrink into the fabric.

“JJ... please...” Your voice was quiet, your eyes trained on his sock-clad feet as tears were threatening to spill.

JJ let out a quiet groan before shuffling over next to you, his body weight dipping the bed down as he sat down next to you, your own body slightly falling into his.

“It’s Bill, isn’t it?” His voice was a whisper as he spoke, his eyes trained on the way your body flinched at the mention of your step-dads name. Lying to JJ had never come easy to you, not as easy as lying to everyone else did, and you knew there was no point in trying in this moment. He knew, and you were just so tired of pretending. Your head nodded slightly, and JJ’s hand came to rest on the bottom of your thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze. When you looked at him, his jaw was clenched, as it had been pretty much since you walked in, and his blue eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen them; he was mad... no, he was pissed. 

“I need you to promise me you won’t go and do anything stupid,” your hand covered his on your thigh, your fingers lacing through his from the top.

“Take the shirt off,” was his only response as he slipped his hand out of yours and stood up once again in front of you.

“What?” You were taken aback by the request, your eyes snapping to him.

“I want to see your stomach,” his reply was simple, the tone of his voice clipped with every word. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the bruises on your stomach and back were brutal, worse than ones you’d ever gotten considering they had been layered on over the week. While JJ was tall and muscular, he wasn’t a 55 year old man with years of weight and muscle on him; he wouldn’t stand a chance against Bill, and you knew he would try and do something stupid.

“Take the fucking shirt off, Y/N. You always see me after Luke does his work and help fix me up,” his voice trailed off and you could see he was holding back tears. Standing up from the bed, your shaking fingers gripped the ends of your shirt, and you took a deep breath before ripping it off. 

“Jesus Christ,” JJ muttered, his eyes taking in your newly exposed skin, the bruises spanning across the beautiful skin he’d longed to see since he met you. His feet shuffled against the floor as he moved closer to you, his hand reaching out and slowly tracing over your stomach, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t want you worrying about me, you have enough going on...” tears were freely spilling down his cheeks now, his eyes snapping to yours.

“I always worry about you, but I could’ve... fuck I could’ve protected you!” He had stepped back now, his fingers tugging at his hair as his voice had risen.

“No, you couldn’t have. No one can, JJ,” you rushed to him, grabbing his hands from his hair and forcing him to look at you, “And I swear to god if you go out and try and do something stupid and you get yourself killed I will bring you back to life and kill you again. I need you, JJ.”

I need you rang through JJ’s ears, his gaze softening. Until he had met you, he never truly felt like he understood what love was. What being cared about meant. Of course, he had the Pogues, and they all loved each other in their own way, but you had tugged on JJ’s heart the moment he saw your smile. You noticed things about him that no one else did, and you always made sure to keep an eye on him. Since he’d met you, he’d gotten himself in a lot less trouble than before you were around, simply because you were the only person who could successfully talk him down. He was in love with you, and that scared him shitless. The fact that you had been suffering for years without him noticing made him want to rip his heart out of his own chest.

Hours had passed, and the rest of the Pogues had gone home, John B retreating into his own room. You and JJ lay in his bed, his fingers running through your hair absentmindedly. He had promised he wouldn’t go after Bill, but he also made you promise not to go home tonight. He tried to make you promise to never go home, but just as him, you couldn’t make that promise.

“Can I ask you a question?” His voice was raspy as it broke through the quiet room, as you two had favored just laying in silence.

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, turning your head to face him.

“Why do you always wear shorts? I get not showing your stomach now, but...” he trailed off, and your breath caught in your throat at the question.

“I...” the words failed to come out, your fingers tracing over the top of your thighs over your jeans. You shook your head and pushed yourself off the bed, figuring it was much easier to show him. You unbuttoned your jeans, causing JJ to sit up and watch you intently as you pushed the fabric down your legs, stepping out of them. He didn’t notice it right away, his eyes wandering over your skin thoughtfully, but then he saw it. Hundreds of scars littered the delicate skin as well as fresh cuts on top of old ones. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and tugged you in-between his legs, his fingers tracing a few of the new marks.

“Please promise me you will never do this to yourself again. And if you feel like it I need to know you’ll call me. I don’t care what time it is, I will be there in a heartbeat,” he was leaning his forehead against your stomach now, lightly, so he didn’t upset the bruises, and your fingers started carding themselves through his hair.

“I promise,” the words were shaky as you spoke them, but you meant them. You had expected him to look at you with disgust, to say you were fucked up and that you needed help, but those words never came from his mouth. 

JJ pulled you back down on the bed, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he pressed you to his body as tight as he possibly could.

Your nose brushed against his lightly, the breath between you two mingling and becoming one. His hand was trailing across your leg, his fingers lightly tracing the skin raising goosebumps as he passed. Eventually, his hand was resting on your neck, tilting your face even closer to his, his lips brushing over yours in a soft caress. Your eyes closed softly, your lips capturing his bottom lip between yours. The grip he had on your neck tightened at the action before he finally pressed his lips atop yours fully, pulling you into a kiss that had both of your hearts racing. You had dreamt about what it would feel like to kiss JJ Maybank since you’d met him, but never in a million years did you think it would feel this good. This right. You melted into each other, the kiss becoming more passionate until you were both forced to pull apart, needing to breathe, but as soon as you had taken a breath his lips were back on yours.

“I love you,” he muttered the words against your lips, causing you to pull away slightly, resting your forehead against his.

“I love you, more than anything.”

“We’re gonna get through this together, I promise you.” His lips were on yours once more, his arms surrounding you, and for the first time since you could even remember, you felt safe. 

#JJ Maybank x reader #JJ Maybank imagines #Outer Banks imagines #Rudy Pankow imagines #JJ Maybank #Outer Banks

[diaco1968]

Of Proud Fragile Hearts

Bakugou x reader

Angst, Blood is mentioned, Hanahaki disease

Under the cut cause it got too long :')

"What is your problem, Katsuki?"

You whisper yelled at Bakugou after everyone else had already left the conference room, closing the door and locking it as you turned to face the boy, leaning back in his chair, arms tightly crossed over his broad chest, scowling.

In the past few months that you two have been secretly hooking up, he had gone through not caring about your daily life, to trying to make you listen to his healthy tips, to fleeting episodes of jealousy and then some. Yet when you pointed it out to him he would deny it. Usually either by changing the subject and leading it to your usual ordeal of a hook up or if he was still feeling possesive by moving straight to pinning you down and shutting you up by some steamy make out session. Either way, the hook up is what would happen and then you'd both go away on your separate daily lives.

You had grown fund of him enough not to mind getting together with him if he was the one who'd step up first. Hell you would love to. He was hot, he knew how to spoil you, he remembered little things and despite his fiery temper he knew how to treat you properly like a woman. To sum it up, he was boyfriend material. Except he was emotionally unavailable. And you were fine with that. But recently as you started making friends with Kaminari, Bakugou also started acting up. You two acted like mere acquaintances in public and in the agency it was lonely. Then there was Kaminari, the Pikachu. He was easy to be around, easy to talk to and easy to listen to. So you befriended him. It was really nothing at all. You'd hang out with him when you couldn't hang out with Bakugou. Much to Bakugou's dismay, those times would be right in front of his eyes, earning you dirty looks and some sulking episodes every time.

And now only minutes ago during the briefing, he had been sitting across from you and Kaminari, and when Kaminari said anything he would mock and humiliate him. It was hard to even watch so you stood up for him and Bakugou shot you a nasty look before he stopped participating all together. Honestly you were glad he didn't start mocking you instead. But this behaviour towards the poor guy was unacceptable. He didn't even know why he was being targeted by Bakugou's wrath.

His eyes shot up to yours not believing what he was hearing. "What is my problem?! What the fuck is your problem!" He shot back, earning a 'Shhh!'  from you. "You had no business picking on Denki like that." You scolded and he sneered "Denki?" You rolled your eyes glaring at him as he went on "you had no business sitting with Denki the whole day long. You had no business snickering and chatting and flirting with him during the conference like that. You had no fucking business standing up to me for him!" He leaned forward in his chair, placing his arms on his knees.

"We were not flirting! Everyone knows about his crush on that recruit from the IT for fuck's sake. And Denki is my friend, Bakugou! Who are you? Should I have been sitting by you? Chatting you up?" You said harshly, sarcasm dripping off of your last few words. To his sheer surprise, he felt his chest tighten from the way you addressed him with his last name right after you called Kaminari by his first name. He knew you had a point. He knew he was the one setting things up the way they were, for his work always came first and in his path to success there was no place for a full time partner or dealing with the rumours of one even existing. He knew he had no right to complain about this now. Yet, he couldn't help the pang of jealousy that rose deep in his heart whenever he saw you hanging out with that dunceface so freely.

Your keen eyes seemed to have caught him slightly off guard and your own pent up hurt and rejection clawed at your logic before you could stop yourself and you went in for another low blow "even if I am flirting with anyone, it is none of your business unless it gets physical. That was the deal. Take it or leave it."

His jaw visibly clenched, nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply before snorting "so that's the problem. You already have some one else for back up to warm your bed just in case, huh?" there was no way to take it back now, and he was too angry to try. You watched him in silence, disbelief and hurt written all over your face. At first he felt triumphant for rendering you speechless with his snarky remark but seeing the hurt in your eyes and your pursed lips he regretted opening his mouth at all. He wished you would just yell at him, punch him even. But you did nothing as a few minutes of torturous silence passed on between the two of you, your eyes searching his face for a sign that the man you loved and cared for didn't actually come to know you as such a person he just described. You had thought you were at least friends. He opened his mouth when he saw your eyes started to glisten but before he could say anything, you exploded.

"You know what Bakugou! Fuck you! You and your whole bullshit!" You threw the first thing you could grab at him which happened to be an empty glass, that missed his head when he docked shattering on the wall behind him. "You're so emotionally unstable, you don't even know what the fuck you want yourself! Let alone get to know anyone else you arrogant piece of shit!"

His brief sadness from making you upset faded from his mind as rage took it's place filling him up to the brim and spilling out as he shot up in his place, his chair scraping on the floor and falling back. He slammed his hands on the table in front of him, saying words he had come to feel anxious even thinking about hearing "oh fuck it all to hell. You wanna know what I want, fuckwipe? You're a waste of time, I want this over and done with. We're through!" He headed for the door walking right past you.

His insult really dealt some heavy damage on your pride as angry tears filled up your eyes and you gathered all you had not to let them spill "fine with me Fuckboy! Go be a nuisance to someone else!"

He had his hand on the doorknob, knuckles turning white from how hard he was gripping it with anger, he pulled it once and found it locked. Not bothering to unlock it, he exploded the whole thing open loudly, the door turning on it's hinges and slamming on the opposite wall, him stepping out and leaving amidst the dust barking at the peering colleagues who scattered away immediately "what?! Get back to work extras!"

You left the room after you made sure he was gone, hoping you could hold your emotional breakdown in the whole way home, having to raise your hand up to your mouth to suppress the multiple coughs as you inhaled the dust from the explosion.

He kicked his boots off, threw his jacket to the side and plopped down on the couch covering his face with his hands and releasing a heavy groan "ugh what the actual fuck did I say... stupid fucking dumbass..." his hands were cold and fingers shaky from the after effects of the rage leaving his body but he was too stubborn to let remorse invade his mind yet. Not fully at least. You were at fault too! "She shouldn't have provoked me like that! Annoying brat!" He spat as he lay down on the couch, but In the back of his mind, your hurt glistening eyes and shocked expresseion was creeping in the darker abyss of his brain, haunting him slowly. Then his mind wandered to the argument, your words resonating in his now mostly dark and empty mind.

'Who are you Bakugou?'

'Take it or leave it'

The way you said that so nonchalantly... did you not care at all if he left you?... after all you've been through? He wouldn't ever say it, but he had opened up to you more than anyone, you knew that. He knew you did.

'Fuckboy'

'Nuisance'

His throat constricted violently and he had to sit up and cough harshly to clear it. "Tsk fuck it. I don't give a shit." Rising from his seat he went to the fridge to get something to eat and grabbed his phone to call Eijiro to see what he was up to tonight.

~

"You've been sick for a while now, maybe you should see a doctor? It doesn't look like a simple cold..."

Bakugou waved his hand nonchalantly, dismissing Kirishima's concerns as he coughed into the palm of his other hand, shutting his eyes and trying to concentrate on controlling his breathing through his nose. Even though he feigned indifference he was worried himself too. It's been 2 weeks since the coughing started and it wasn't just coughing either. He would occasionally find himself out of breath and unable to get enough oxygen in his lungs without opening his mouth and taking in a sharp gulp of air. As if he was losing his lung capacity. '(Y/n) would know how to get rid of this...' he groaned in annoyance as he caught himself thinking about you again. You had made your choice. It was obvious. He even texted you to meet up, but you've been ignoring him ever since the argument half a month ago... felt like years...

His heart clenched, along with his jaw as he felt another epiode of coughs coming. He rose to his feet and headed for the bathroom "be back in a sec." He replied to Kirishima's questioning look with a hoarse voice. The noise cancelling bar bathroom was starting to become too familiar for his liking, as he had frequented it quite often in the past 2 weeks. Not alcoholic often, but the free time he usually spent with you was now spent working over time or with Eijiro at his favorite place...

He burst out into another coughing fit, gripping the sink as he bent over it. He could feel a hard lump move in his throat as he heaved his lungs out, finally managing to spit out what was stuck in his airways. And to his utmost horror he was not relieved at all by the sight and the sound.

What spilled out of his mouth and scattered inside the sink with soft 'thud' sound, was a fist full worth of what looked to be... seeds?!

His hand shot out and grabbed a few bringing them close to his eyes and squeeshing them between his fingers to make sure. "What the fuck...?!" He whispered mind wandering to each and everyone of his recent quarells with the villains trying to recall anyone at all with a floral quirk. Was this what caused the coughing?

It took him quite a while to get over the initial shock but when he was sure he wasn't coughing anymore he headed back to his table with Kirishima, plopping down tiredly in his seat. "You look pale bro, what's up? You weren't a light weight last time I checked." Eijiro teased, making him smirk tauntingly in reply "I can drink 5 times as much as it takes to knock you off your feet and still be barely tipsy, dumbass. Don't test me." They both laughed and Bakugou forgot about his problems for a little while, hoping spitting out those seeds was the end of it.

And it seemed to be. He hadn't coughed for a while now. At least not until the breaking news popped up over the screen right across from where he was sitting.

"The notorious spider villain escaped the law once again but hero (your hero name) managed to save all the victims, with the help of none other than hero Deku, who just landed a few hours ago for his vacation-..."

The words flashed in his mind and the voice of the reporter faded as he watched the screen showing the scene after the rescue, where you were talking to that bastard Deku, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with a grin, like you used to do when Bakugou made you shy and you never had any idea how cute it made you look, and he was smiling down at you.

Violent coughs errupted out of his chest and he covered his mouth just in time to stop the content from spilling out as he shot up from his seat and made his way outside for some fresh air. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gasped for air lightly, leaning on his shoulder on the wall outside, opening his palm to see the same few seeds and a bunch of delicate red and white petals. He stared at his palm with wide eyes for a few more seconds before crumbling them in his fist as he felt someone's presence behind him. "I really really think you should see a doctor." Kirishima put a hand on his shoulder.

"I will. Right fucking now actually. This shit is so annoying."

~

"I said when I cough flowers come out- ugh! Hey! I know I sound crazy! Don't stare at me like that!" He let out a frustrated groan as he sat there on the bed for his check up, answering the confused doctor. "We have not encountered this before mr Bakugou, you don't sound crazy. I would have to check the database again for quirks with this kind of side effect. Meanwhile if you could... provide a sample would be really useful."

"Sure, I'll just cough my lungs out for buried seeds till you get back..." Bakugou clicked his tongue and gestured for the doctor to show it was okay to go do whatever he needed to do.

And again he sat there alone and annoyed, watching the rest of the hospital, from the little space he was provided by the door that the doctor forgot to close properly.

You always refused to close the door too...

He had forgotten how lonely a hospital felt before he had you to fuss over him as he sat there grumbling that he was fine.

He heaved a careful sigh zoning out so when he saw your face, he thought he had imagined it at first.

"Ms. (Y/h/n)! You did amazing today! The room you're looking for is just at the end of this corridor to the left. You actually did a good job finding it." The excited nurse chuckled and Bakugou snapped out of his daze hearing your muffled voice thanking her.

'Always so bad with directions...' he thought bitterly swallowing the lump that was raising in his throat in favour of getting up and following you quietly. He just wanted to know why you were in the hospital, is all. Just making sure your clumsy ass didn't hurt yourself.

He stopped outside the door you disappeared into on the other side of the corridor, blended in by the moving patients and busy staff, scoffing sarcastically as you didn't bother closing the door.

His little smile was soon gone however when he saw who you were visiting.

Sat there on the hospital bed was none other than Deku, who had his forearm wrapped in some light bandage. Probably from the rescue they showed on TV earlier. Where you were too. It was normal. You checking up on him after. Totally normal. He reminded himself. 'I could do that at home shitty nerd, no need for a hospital.'

Normal was not where it ended though and what happened next as you got up to leave had Bakugou wishing he had ripped his eyes off you and walked away the moment he had figured you were alright.

"Guess I'll be seeing you around then. Oh and Midoriya," you chuckled mischievously leaning close to whisper in the boy's ear. "I wish you luck with Ochako." Just as you expected, heat rose to his face and he flushed red to the tips of his ears as he started stuttering embarassed and his hand moved up to rub his bandaged arm "ouch!.. I mean!... thank you!"

You both jumped as you heard something metal clattering to the ground in the hallway and you peeked out to see what was going on. Much to your surprise and concern you saw a familiar spiky blonde hair a little further down the corridor. 'Katsuki?' You leaned out of the room more to see better. He looked like he had a terrible time trying to breathe, his shoulders shaking as he heaved cough after cough, bent down with his arms keeping himself up on his slightly bent knees. Your heart clenched at the sight. He looked in pain. The nurse Bakugou had supposedly crashed into, causing him to drop his metal platter to the ground put a hand on his back to try and calm him down. But Bakugou just swatted his hand away "...don't... touch..." he managed to rasp out with an unusually hoarse voice as he gained enough composure to push past the nurse and walk away, still coughing but much less violently.

"What was it?" Deku asked from inside the room.

"Nothing, just a nurse dropping a bunch of stuff..." you said quietly concealing the worry in your voice as you stared after Bakugou down the corridor even after he was already gone.

Blood. Blood and petals. And the occasional flower bloom falling out of his mouth as he coughed. He had been wiping blood off his mouth since he had gotten home from the hospital. The feeling of constantly having one of those petals sticking to the back of his trachea. It was disgusting. The sickening sweet scent filling his nose and mouth made him want to gag. They had suggested hospitalization when they couldn't find anything on his condition and he had refused. But now as the pain in his throat grew ever more intolerable, he was trying his last hope for an answer as he looked for the contact in his phone, playing with the little flower in between his fingers with his free hand absentmindedly.

'Amaryllis...'

He had looked up the shape of the flower as soon as he had seen it, washing the blood off the petals. None of this made any sense to him. How does one cough out flowers? How was this even real?

He dialed the number immediately when he saw the contact name.

"Aizawa sensei"

~

Despite your efforts to completely ignore Bakugou's existence after your 'break up', you've had Baugou back on your mind ever since a few days ago in the hospital and it wasn't in the best of ways either. His tense shaky shoulders, his harsh hoarse voice, his pained dry heaves. It all sounded and looked so serious but you had no idea what he was down with and it was killing you. You were constantly distracted and it was proving to be such a hassle. Oh how you wished you were not alone in this very moment. Alone in the middle of a crowded square full of civilians.

"What's wrong girly? Can't beat me now without that green lettuce, huh?"

Alone against this dude known as the spider villain. Who was back to take his revenge on the humiliation you and Deku gave him last encounter.

"Oh fuck off bug. Those are your last words before being sprayed back to the sewers?"

You growled getting in your fighting stance and ushering him to come at you.

Bakugou was walking down the street towards the hospital, crumbling the piece of paper with the surgeon's address and name in his fist, deep in his pocket thinking on his meeting with his former teacher a few days ago.

'Amaryllis?' Aizawa had said the moment he saw the bloom in Bakugou's hand, much to his surprise. He never took the old man as a flower person. 'I've only ever seen this once with my own eyes when I was a student myself... wouldn't believe it if I hadn't.' He had pulled out a bunch of old books handing half the stack to Bakugou, probably deliberately chosen ones as there was one on the meaning behind flowers in Bakugou's stack. As he sat down in front of the boy turning pages rapidly scanning the words, Bakugou reluctantly read the book.

'Amaryllis is the only genus in the subtribe Amaryllidinae. It is a small genus of flowering bulbs, with two species. It symbolizes pride.'

He stared at the lines, reading them over and over again with a blank face. Until Aizawa's voice broke him out of his trance.

'Hanahaki Disease is a disease where the victim of unrequited or one-sided love begins to vomit or cough up the petals and flowers of a flowering plant growing in their lungs, which will eventually grow large enough to render breathing impossible if left untreated...'

He paused making Bakugou wonder if it was for adding more dramatic effects as his eyes moved up to lock with Bakugou's

'...until the victim dies unless the feelings of genuine love are returned or the plants are surgically removed but this excision also has the effect of removing the patient's capacity for romantic love. It may also erase the patient’s feelings for and memories of the enamoured.'

It was obvious what Bakugou chose. There was no place in his life for such a hassle as love. It would just get in his way anyway. What a nuisance...

'Nuisance'

'Fuckboy'

His heart clenched making a surge of pain go throught his whole body remembering your words and your tone.

"Reciprocating feelings of genuine love my ass..."

He scoffed pushing his fists deeper in his pockets to keep his shoulders from shaking as a series of coughs ripped out of his throat, staining the black mask in front of his face, with blood.

He bumped shoulders with a guy in front of a TV store who looked distraught enough not to recognize Ground Zero as he apologised and turned back to the TVs on the display in the windows.

Feeling insulted, Bakugou turned to look at what this man was watching that got him so stupid to stand in his way. The moment his eyes met the screen he felt as if his heart stopped. Hands freezing cold and eyes going wide with terror as he watched the live report of none other than you being picked up and thrown a distance away aginst a wall by some villain.

Lying there in the rubble of the building you gasped to catch your breath that flew out of you when your back hit the wall. Before you could wholly come to your senses he was above you again, grabbing you by the neck and picking you back up. Your hands shot up to grab his arm to try and relieve the pressure around your neck, your feet dangling in the air as you tried to kick him off of you but he was smart, keeping you away from himself.

"Just as I thought. I should've found the broccoli. You are a waste of time."

Bakugou's face and a bunch of memories flooded your mind and your eyes stung with unshed tears, feeling it ironic to have to hear this again in what appeared to be the final moments of your life.

The corners of your vision were blurring out as you couldn't breathe in anymore air and you were sure you imagined his voice in your head.

"Get off you fucking bastard!"

The loud growl accompanied by the sound of a loud explosion and the hand around your neck disappearing, the pressure gone. You dropped to the floor on your hands and knees gasping in and looking up to see Bakugou launching himself at the guy who was framed in the opposite wall due to the initial explosion. His bare fist met the bug man's face with a sickening 'crack' and only then did you realise he wasn't even in his hero costume.

"Bakugou... I'm fine..."

You tried calling him but your voice was too strangled. He was delivering punch after curse after punch and the guy seemed to be knocked out long ago.

"Bakugou! Stop..."

You said louder as you got to your feet making your way towards him, hesitating momentarily before grabbing his shoulder and ripping him off of the bloodied beat up guy.

"KATSUKI!"

His whole heavy sweating panting body whirled around and crashed into your arms, making you trip backwards on your feet and fall on your butt still holding him.

Very unlikely for him to be so ungraceful and fall with you like that, he would usually catch you and scold you for being clumsy. Out of habit you braced yourself for his scolding but it never came.

He started wheezing and gasping in your arms, unable to breathe, whatever air he had left in his lungs being forced out by the violent coughs that wracked through his whole body, his hands moving up to grasp at his throat squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

"F-fuck... h-hurts..." he wheezed out twisting in your lap as you watched him in terror.

"W-what's wrong? Holy shit! Katsu you're turning blue!"

You didn't know what took over you as your hands moved on their own accord, grabbing his jaw, forcing his mouth open and plunging your fingers down his throat. What you pulled out would haunt your nightmares for the rest of your life.

Bakugou started gasping in big gulps of air when you removed your hands from his face, but you couldn't see him anymore. You were staring at the thing that was previously clogging his airways. A whole, leaf, stem and flower petals between your fingers, dripping with fresh blood and saliva; mouth falling open and paling even more, if possible, at the sight.

Bakugou looked up once he could breathe again and couldn't help but whimper quietly at the thing you just pulled out of his own throat. The sound making your eyes snap back on him even more concerned than when he was choking. "What the fuck is this?!" You asked showing him the flower, as if either of you could ever forget about it, instinctively cupping his cheek and stroking it with your thumb. He looked surprised and you immediately realised your mistake pulling your hand away "sorry force of habit... but... answer me!"

Your touch was soothing to the ache in his damaged throat and he was so in pain already that he didn't care if he was going to sound pathetic or needy or clingy... or... sorry. He opened his mouth to tell you to put your hand back on him but instead of words he had to cough, fresh blood mixed with the sickly sweet scent of the flower spraying over both your clothes, making you panic again.

"I'll tell you later... just... give me a sec...please..." He whispered embarassed and grabbed your hand placing it back on his cheek, lowering himself down on his shaky arms and laying over your legs exhausted. His voice sounded so tired and broken that despite yourself, you chose to just let him have a moment for now without making him talk.

~

You stroked the back of his hand absent mindedly careful not to touch the busted knuckles, watching his sleeping face as he lay in the hospital bed. He looked terrible. Pale skin, bags under his eyes. You could swear he had also lost some weight. How long has he been coughing for? How much blood?His face twisted in pain and you jumped as he stirred with a cough, opening his eyes and staring at you blankly.

His eyes moved over your features in silence with a soft expression on his own face, watching your glistening bright eyes, wide with concern. The way your hair framed your face, your eye lashes making your eyes look even more beautiful, your lips pursed with worry. Then moving as you talked...? He was so concentrated he barely heard your voice.

"...- yeah?"

"Yeah..." he replied softly.

"Yeah?!"

His mind started to clear up more as he raised an eyebrow uncertainly "uh... no?"

You laughed at his weird behaviour and he smiled. He had missed it. Missed seeing it. Hearing you laugh.

"You weren't listening to me, were you?"

He offered an apologetic look "yeah...sorry."

You shook your head softly "nah it's fine, wasn't important."

He suddenly looked very serious "No. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said those things. I didn't mean any of them."

You stared at him blinking in confusion before realising what he meant. Bakugou was apologizing! You opened your mouth and closed it again, speechles. Clearing your throat you tried again.

"Yeah those really hurt..."

He could feel his heart drop as he looked at you wondering if it was actually over.

"I forgive you, stupid. Stop looking so pathetic." You rolled your eyes and grinned pinching his cheek.

"God I fucking love you so much... be mine again?"

You couldn't help blushing as you nod your head "you're such an asshole... but I can't help loving you either."

His eyes lit up, relief washing over him as he raised his hand cupping your cheek and bringing your head close, leaning in to kiss you.

"Wait! What was the deal with that flower-!"

"Shhh I'll tell you later...just..."

He looked down at your lips as he trailed off, licking his lips and pressing them against yours firmly.

And to this day, you still think he wanted to give you the flower and he chose the creepiest weirdest way to do it.

Nah just kidding.

He said he fell down and swallowed it by accident...

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #hanahaki #hanahaki bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #my hero academia #hanahaki disease #hanahaki Bakugou

[beauregard-s]

Out of His League | Eddie Kaspbrak

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader (21+)

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: language, alcohol, fluff, protected sex!, oral (male receiving), slightly sub!Eddie? Kind of a comfort fic? Eddie going through a hard time

@buckybarton03 said: “ hey!! can i request adult eddie x reader she’s not in the losers club be he brings her with him to derry to meet everyone and he gets super jealous over how good richie & reader get along :)”

A/n: First, my infinite apologies because it took so so long! But here it is and I hope you like it <3

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

“Richie, no!” At least three different voices shouted.

“Richie, yes!”

And, as he roared at the top of his lungs, Richie threw his head back and swallowed the third blow job shot in a roll as you grimaced at that in between your laugh. 

Yours and the whole table’s - Bill had snorted so hard he ended up spitting his drink. And, leaning against Eddie with his chin resting against your temple, you felt him chuckle. Not laugh. Chuckle.

Coming to Derry and meeting your boyfriend’s ride-or-die friends was scary in the beginning, sent you into a quiet anxiety spiral. You and Eddie met a year before and you never got the chance to personally get to know the famous Losers Club, the gang Eddie would always tell you about while nostalgically looking at the few childhood pictures he still had. You were not usually worried about what people would think about or if they’d like you, but when you found yourself flying over to Maine, you were pretty worried about your social skills. You just hoped you got along with them because if you didn’t you’d never forgive yourself.

You knew Eddie went through a lot during his life in that place and you also knew those six people were his real family, everything safe he had during those years of manipulation and abuse. If his friends didn’t like you, if something went wrong in any way... It’d break his heart. 

You were stepping on thin ice. Until you met them.

You understood Eddie’s awe and loyalty to them right away. They were welcoming, they were fun and indeed, all of them together felt like a big family that engulfed you in. You got along with each of them, even with Stan’s fiancée, Patty, but Richie was the one you clicked with immediately after he hugged you and asked you what bet did you lose to end up with Eddie.

And Eddie was in pure bliss through the week of your little vacation, happy all his favorite people were getting along so well, but you noticed something there. The way his mood slowly shrunk to the point he spent that whole Saturday quieter. You knew something was bothering him even if he was sitting so relaxed in the restaurant, his arm resting on your chair around your shoulders, smiling at Richie’s tommyrot. 

“Come on, y/n/n,” Richie coughed, choking due to the strong alcohol dose. “Drink a shot.”

“No way...” You shook your head immediately.

“Come on, y/n!” He whined. “Show us your skills!”

You lifted a brow at Richie’s devilish look, and Eddie exhaled a bit loudly by your side while Beverly went “beep beep Richie” mode in the background.

“The only one supposed to know my skills here is Eddie, Richie.”

There were a pair of whistles from across the table, maybe from Bill and Mike, and Richie raised his hands in rendition. 

“Hey, Haystack! You do it!”

You looked away from Richie now teasing Ben and pressuring the poor guy on drinking raw tequila shots, paying attention to Eddie. He was taking the last sip of his virgin peach cocktail - because he was the one driving and god forgive it if he drank before driving.

“You okay? Wanna another one?” 

He didn’t look at you, just shook his head.

“No, I’m good.”

“Really?”

That was your “I don’t believe in you, so I’m giving you a second chance to spill your tea” tone, and that made Eddie turn at you flashing a half-smile, thumb rubbing circles on your shoulder.

“Sure, babe.”

But of course he lied. He was, yes, dreary. So much he was silent through the whole way back to the hotel later and, when Bill and Stan wanted to stay outside for a while, enjoying the last hours they all had together before going to bed and flying back home in the morning, Eddie claimed he had a headache and a lot to pack and went straight upstairs the small hotel.

You knew his baggage was immaculate and ready by your bed. And he never had headaches.

His mother always claimed he was an ill boy, but, in fact, Eddie never got sick in any way, so it sent the red alert in your head and you followed him quietly through the way until you were safe and alone in your room.

“Eddie,” you cooed, locking the door behind you as he shrugged his jacket off, “are you telling me what’s wrong or…?”

He threw the garment over his suitcase in the corner, turning on his heels to face you.

“What? No, I’m okay! Really am.” He did it again, gave you that half-smile to try to mislead you away from the things he sometimes hid inside.

But you didn’t buy it. Leaned against the door, arms crossed in front of your chest. Locked eyes with him trying to find a gap, a minimal clue of what was going on, inevitably paying attention to his pink lips from your strawberry chapstick he’d borrow here and there.

“You are not.” 

Your unconscious pouting was enough to make him break.

It was sudden. How his shoulders dropped slightly and he sighed, rubbing his face in the frustration he knew well but he thought he had left behind.

“It’s just…” He muttered. “I’m jealous, you know?”

You pushed up from the door immediately, gaping slightly at his words but he was faster, raising a hand so you’d let him explain himself. 

“I’m not implying anything,” he smiled again, more truly this time, but sadder. “It’s just that…”

You perceived him struggling. He always struggled.

You remembered the day you met him. You were about to finish your internship in this huge company’s advertising department when you sat across this junior analyst guy during a meeting. Him. Eddie struggled all the time with his graphs, so nervous you could feel it from your seat. And when he looked up and saw you smiling at him, he froze for a second, growing ten times as nervous after that.

After he got to know who was the girl sitting in front of him at that table through two hours of pure boredness, it took him a whole month up the courage to ask you out. When he did, you smiled brightly and told him you were out at 6 pm next Friday. 

And he felt his anxiety lower, just like it did in that hotel room when he saw how worried you were.

“I’m…” he crinkled his nose because the words for what he was feeling would sound too ridiculous. “I’m just jealous, y/n.”

You frowned.

“Jealous?”

“Yes.”

“Of?...” You gave him the lead.

“You and Richie.”

Your gape grew. 

Eddie hummed frustratedly, miserably letting himself sink into the edge of the mattress. Its springs made this little sound that annoyed him because it implied how old that was and he wouldn’t stand thinking about the clean status of that thing.

“Eddie…” 

“No, I know nothing is going on, okay!” He said, looking at his feet. “I know there’s no real reason for feeling this way and that it’s just me being paranoid.”

“And do you wanna elaborate or…?” You encouraged him.

He wanted to because you were the one who managed to get him, to soothe him. But he didn’t know how to do it with proper words.

“You know what Richie’s about. All the stuff I told you, and the stuff you saw the last few days. He’s the funny and popular one. I love him, I really do, don’t get me wrong but it didn’t stop me from thinking he kinda overshadowed me through our high school years, through college.”

You nodded although he wasn’t looking at you at the moment. He was so troubled he didn’t see you stepping out of your boots and walking over to him, only noticing how close you were when your shadow covered him. 

“He always got more attention?” You said.

Eddie looked up, chuckling in embarrassment. “And the girls.”

You rolled your eyes and he groaned lowly in frustration. He held around your hips when you started running your fingers through his hair.

“You’re jealous because he keeps teasing me?”

“Yeah? Come on, you two look like you’ve been friends since ever,” his slightly more playful tone relaxed you. He was getting some relief by talking about it.

And indeed, you spent time with all the Losers but grew closer to Richie than the others for no special reasons. He’d pick on you, on Eddie. Would make great-horrible jokes and some great-great ones that got you laughing every time. It was simple affinity, but you could see where it stang on Eddie. 

So you dropped your hand to his face and tilted his chin up. He finally looked at you, resting against your ribs.

“You know there are no real reasons for that though, don’t you?” You said softly.

He pulled away and his eyes quickly glanced down over the tight blouse and the skirt hugging your hips. 

“To be honest, I do. You’re the hottest, smartest woman on earth and way out of his league…”

“Edward!” You slapped his shoulder softly.

But he was laughing, finally laughing. 

“You know it’s true and yeah, okay” he whispered, arms around your waist squeezing you tighter against him. “It’s just my fucking insecurity talking because I know you’re out of my league too.”

“I’m totally in your league…”

“Oh, tell me about it.”

Eddie was practical. Words didn’t have much effect on his uneasy mind, so you felt the need to show him what you meant and you did it by lowering down to settle on his lap.

You didn’t break your eyes from his nor even for a second while your arms embraced his neck.

“There’s no need for it all,” you pecked his lips once. “Because you’re the one I’m in love with.” You pecked him twice and the last one turned into a deep kiss.

You felt the strawberry chapstick flavor when you nip on his lips because you knew exactly what it did to him. How it made a low grunt raise from the deep of his throat and his hips buck up slightly. The same goes for his neck and how kissing down his adam’s apple makes him sigh.

“Y/n/n…” he breathes out.

“Shut up and let me take care of you,” you cut him off, your purred voice and hands pulling off his shirt making him surrender.

Pressing your chest on his made him fall back on the mattress and you laid on top. The way his cheeks were already flustered made you feel those renowned butterflies inside. That and his hands pulling your skirt up until it was rucked around your waist. Eddie still had a ghost of a grin on and you made it disappear under your hips grinding against his.

“No shit, babe…” he groaned alongside the little moan you let out, feeling his hardening cock rubbing against your clothed slit.

For each time you rolled your lips, still committed to the task of kissing his sweet spot, Eddie’s sounds escalated a tone. His fingers dig into your hips, pushing you down against him, whimpering you stopped and got off him. His lidded eyes watched you stripping, as his hand immediately went for his jeans, pushing them way so fast he got you chuckling. 

“Eager,” you teased. 

“This isn’t new,” he retorted, eyebrow raising slightly. 

But his attitude was washed away as soon as your skirt fell on the floor. Eddie wasn’t that much about lingerie, but you were wearing the laced set he gave you. 

That was an unfair game. And the way you kneeled on the floor in between his legs was the unfairest one.

He sat up when you mouthed his clothed length before tugging down the boxers, earning yourself a moan as soon as your lips brushed the sensitive tip. You smiled up at him, something between a cute and devious one that had him gasping for air even before you attached your lips to him, tasting his precum. 

An entire rope of curse came weakly from him, a hand of his going for your hair and pushing it back so he could see exactly what you were doing. You kept your eyes on his all the time, sucking him slowly, moaning and vibrating him. He was holding back, you felt he was, only brushing your hair when what he really wanted to do was wrap it around his hand and fuck your mouth. But he didn’t do that. 

You said you were the one taking care of him that night and he let you.

Let you wrap your lips around him and swirl your tongue, making him whine, twitch in need when you sucked bolder, pulling him out with a little ‘pop’. 

“Holy shit, y/n,” he panted.

“What, babe?” You pumped him through your pause. “Does it feel good?”

Eddie wasn’t able to stand up to the tease when you resumed blowing him. The way you dragged your tongue over the weak spot underneath his tip making his hips stutter and heat gather in there. 

You pulled away as soon as he started twitching harder, feeling your slickness in your underwear. You rose kissing the ‘v’ muscles of his hips, all the way up his chest while pulling his boxers down completely, straddling him again. 

Eddie immediately unclasped your bra and leaned into your chest, tracing the tip of his tongue around a nipple of yours before sucking it. His breath hitched when you cried out from that, doing it again and again, from a breast to the other, biting up your neck. 

“I wanna fuck you so much, love…” He looked at your heated face, swallowing dry to the words that slipped off. “Please…”

His little moment of weakness was enough for you to reach down and touch him again. “What do you want? Say it again.”

He panted under how soft you could sound even when you were making him beg like that, reaching down for his pants on the floor, shaking his wallet open with your free hand and grabbing a condom he had in it. Tearing it open with your teeth.

“I want to fuck you,” he whimpered at how you unrolled it on his cock and pumped him. “Please, babe…Oh, fuck!”

You had pulled your underwear aside, guiding him in.

“Do it then,” you tried to keep your voice steady.

And it wasn’t possible. 

Your demands turned into moans as he laid back, not even remembering about the noisy mattress. In fact, he liked the sound it made when you started to ride him. He liked how it joined your moans and his sharp breaths. 

And that beautiful pleasured face of yours on top of him…

He didn’t like it. He loved it. Kept watching you the whole time, how you bounced perfectly on him, feeling so wet. How you held onto his arms when he caressed your sides and cupped your breasts. You were both being loud, but who cared? He wanted to be loud as it was a way of showing who you belonged to at the end. And how he belonged to you, too.

He started to thrust up against you as soon and he felt the tightening sensation around him. You were close, so damn close feeling him hitting the soft spot inside you. Feeling him massaging your breasts like that, fucking so fast into you.

“Eddie…”

The way you came saying his name drove him straight through the edge with you. He gripped your waist tightly as he thrust sloppily through your high, the way you pulsed around him making him smirk. And, when you couldn’t stand anymore, Eddie pulled you down to lay down on him.

You gladly took the chance because you felt your whole body falling apart. Laid down on him and nuzzled into his neck, his chest wavering you up and down. His occasional pleasured humming here and there making you smile.

“Still jealous, honey?” 

If he had his eyes open, he’d have rolled them at your mocking tone. 

“Not that much,” he admitted.“I love you so much, y/n,” 

He whispered lazily, hand caressing the low of your back, a blissful smile on his lips you couldn’t see, but you could feel. 

The butterflied were there again.

“I know, and I love you too, Eddie.” You adjusted yourself slightly and he whined, still buried inside you. “Sorry,”

He chuckled. “Don’t be, just… Give me some time.”

“Yeah? Why?” You raised a brow. He chuckled.

“Because in round two I’ll be the one taking care of you.”

#it #it imagine #it smut #it fanfic #it fanfiction #it fic #eddie kaspbrak #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak imagine #eddie kaspbrak smut #eddie kaspbrak fic #eddie kaspbrak fanfic #eddie kaspbrak fanfiction #the losers club #the losers club imagine #the losers club smut #the losers club fic #the losers club fanfic #the losers club x reader #the losers club fanfiction #beauregardwrites

[empteygold]

Clockwork (1)

Summary: It was just like any other Sunday, you were on your way out to meet your two best friends for coffee. It’s been a tradition ever since you all began high school. Now you’re all graduated and your two best friends have officially become pro hero’s. You on the other hand, just lived a regular life as you were quirkless, or so you had thought.

Genre: Angst with a little fluff. It’s not much but things will progress as this fic goes on

Cw: Cursing, talks of depression

Notes: Hi guys, thanks for reading, this is the first fic i have written and the first time in a long time since i have written anything. I have plans for this fic and it will evolve so i hope you stat tuned. 

The warm sunlight peeking through your window slowly awoke you from your slumber. You had spent all night tossing and turning. Once you had finally fallen asleep, the sweet bliss was snatched away from you. As a child you remember having recurring nightmares, and now those nightmares were starting to resurface. You weren’t sure as of why they were coming back, since it has been many years since you’ve experienced any form of dreaming. 

Not being able to fall back to sleep, you slowly took your time and finally managed to get out of bed. You reached for an oversized hoodie, one you had stolen from your childhood best friend years ago. It gave you comfort. You remember how when you first got it, it smelled like smoke and sweat. It was all he had on him, but you were cold, so he did what he could do. You never gave it back.

 As you got up you made your way to the restroom fuzzily trying to remember your dreams last night. You couldn’t quite shake the feeling of the agonizing pit in your stomach. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but your nightmare had felt so realistic. It gave you a sense of déjà vu, like you have been here many times before. It felt familiar and warm, but it also made you sick to your stomach. 

You decided to hop in the shower, trying your hardest to push down these feelings. You set the water to an almost boiling temperature thinking it would help. As you stood in the shower crying you suddenly remembered, it was Sunday. Suddenly you felt that ache slowly go away, and you felt a little more at ease. Every Sunday you had a tradition of meeting your two best friends whom you have known the entirety of your life. While you may have known each other longer than you can actually remember, you didn’t actually decide to start this tradition until you started high school.

******

You, Izuku, and Bakugo were completely inseparable up until you all started high school. Both Bakugo and Izuku had gotten into UA, the best school to become a pro-hero. However, you just went to a plain old high school, as you never inherited a quirk of your own. As children you and Izuku had a closer relationship than the one between you and Bakugo. Two best friends basically conjoined at the hip. Izuku was also quirk-less at the time. You all thought he would never get one and that’s how you stayed so close. Two quirk-less best friends. 

Bakugo got his explosion quirk young and spent more time with kids who had quirks. Izuku was always hell bent on becoming a hero even without a quirk of his own. The day Izuku received his quirk you and Bakugo were in complete and udder shock. You weren’t surprised though, you had a gut wrenching feeling that a quirk would arise in him someday. The boys were concerned about you making sure you were okay as you still didn’t have a quirk. You were very content with not having one, and it never really crossed your mind on what you would do if you had ever gotten one. 

You never considered yourself a bad person, but you didn’t considerer yourself a good one either. Saving people in a heroic way seemed distasteful to you. The only downside of not having a quirk of your own meant not being able to see your beloved best friends as much as you would have liked. Hero training and regular study courses at UA made things very chaotic and hectic for the boys. There was little time for you, and you slowly began to fade from their life’s. During this time period, you had struggled with some major personal issues and not being able to see your friends and have someone to vent to made you spiral into an overwhelming depression.

  It had been months since you’ve seen the boys, Bakugo was home for fall vacation and Izuku was out somewhere doing something you weren’t too sure of at the time. Bakugo had called you up and it was so nice to hear his voice. It was low and stoic instead of chaotic how it usually was. When you picked up he could immediately tell something was bothering you and asked if you were free to hangout. 

You met Bakugo at a café in town that was in the middle of UA and your academy. It was a Sunday morning, there was a crisp breeze and leaving of different colors falling around you. The walk was somber your mind kept wandering not being able to control your feelings or thoughts. You kept picking at your scarf as you were over thinking. As you got closer to the café the smell of freshly roasted coffee beans and sweet pastries calmed you down.

 Once you entered the café you immediately saw Bakugo. He looked nervous for some reason, but his expression changed immediately once his eyes met yours. “What’s with that face Kacchan?” you smirked with a flirty tone. ‘Well good morning to you too dumbass. If you must know, I’m just happy to see you.” Bakugo was only sweet when it came to you, he would never let anyone see him like this. Not even Izuku. While you could tell his feeling were genuine you felt as if he was hiding something. “I didn’t order yet, I don’t exactly know what you like.” He mumbled in a soft tone. 

You ordered something new, something you saw one of your favorite American celebrity order in an movie you had to watch for a school project. “I’ll have an oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut please.”  Bakugo looked at you with a slightly confused face. “I’ll have that too I guess” he stated. You knew Bakugo too well and knew he wouldn’t like it. “Actually, just give him an Americano with vanilla and hazelnut” you smirked back at him “Trust me.” Bakugo was quite impressed with your drink choice even though he didn’t admit it, you could see the smile after his first sip.

  You spent the next couple hours catching up, as you realized the time you informed him how you needing to get going. Even though it was fall break you had multiple assignments to catch up on as you were basically failing every single one of your classes. You tended to procrastinate as it was Sunday you had to finish it all by tonight. Bakugo was very displeased in hearing this as he is a top student and knew how much potential you really had.

 Upon hearing about what has been going on in your life and how you aren’t doing well in school he decided then and there that every Sunday he would make time for you. He would meet you in this café and he would check on your studies, and even help tutor you. He felt so guilty for not having spent time with you. As he was telling you his plan for the next coming Sunday his little surprised came and plopped down right beside you. “DEKU” you just about cried seeing your two favorite boys together again. Kacchan went ahead and told him his plan and Deku insisted he come along every Sunday as well. Three best friends back together again, and that’s how your Sunday traditions began.

******

After a long-deserved shower, you made your way to your closet, while you knew it was Sunday and the plans to meet with friends was already set in motion, you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything to fancy. Your body still ached from the night before. The fumbling in bed and the jerk of your body as you came pummeling down from your nightmares really put a strain on your body and mind.

 A simple pair of leggings and Kacchan’s oversized hoodie seemed to be just fine. Making your way through your apartment, the coldness of the floor made you shiver. As you went back into the restroom to finish getting ready, the image in the mirror startled you. It’s been years since you’ve felt like this. The nightmares bringing up repressed memories and feelings you’ve buried long ago. 

The bags under your eyes seem darker than normal and it doesn’t seem like a cup of coffee can help you fix this one. You looked back at your reflection, disappointed in what was looking back and sighed “I swear we’ve been here before, and you can’t go back to feeling like this. Pull yourself together. If not for yourself do it for Bakugo, you know he wouldn’t want to see you like this.” With a little self-deprecation and your pep talk you managed to get ready for the day.

 You’re usually known to wear bold eye looks but today you went with something a little softer. A muted brown Smokey eye with a sharp wing liner. As you made your way to your front door, you put on your favorite pair of combat boots. You wore them everywhere, they were in tatters and barley hanging on by a thread, but you loved them more than anything. Upon leaving you felt a slight breeze graze your face.

*Bzzzz bzzzz* You grab your phone from your pocket and answer “Hello?” you mustered up the nerve to get it out as you were not in the mood to be speaking to anyone right at this moment. Once you heard it was Bakugo you felt more reassured. ‘Hey dumbass, where are you?” You didn’t realize the time and how late you had been running all along. “Oh my god Kacchan I am so sorry, I totally forgot about our plans today” a slight hint of sarcasm rolled of your tongue.  ‘YOU WHAT” it sounded far more disappointing then angry.” Nah I’m just fucking with you dummy, turn around” There he stood, his sadden eyes igniting at your sight. 

This man had the purest crimson red eyes, they matched the fire within in soul.  He was beautiful but in the way forest fires were beautiful. He may be destructive, but he did it in the most alluring way. Bakugo made his way towards you wrapping his arms around your waist, you were never one for personal touch even hugs with people you considered your friends was hard for you. With him you felt comfortable, safe even. There was always an unspoken bond between the two of you, after a certain night back in high school but Bakugo would never make the first move and neither would you. 

You’ve never held on to him so long in your life. He never once complained though, he just held you until you decided to let go. As the hug came to an end he could sense the tenseness in your body. Your eyes didn’t have the same sheen to them as they usually do. Even though you were wearing makeup he could see the puffiness that still remained. A thumb landed on the apple of your check and slowly rubbed circles into it.

 Bakugo let out a small sigh “Oi, I forgot to tell you, Deku won’t be meeting us here today, He’s on a mission and we don’t know when he will be back” A small flash of sadness overcame your face as you would have really enjoyed seeing Izuku, but you understood he had responsibilities as a pro hero. Suddenly your thoughts were interrupted as the barista shouted out your order. You hadn’t realized that Kacchan had already ordered. “Oat milk latte with vanilla and hazelnut and an americano with vanilla and hazelnut for Bakugo and (Y/N).” He was absolutely hooked on that flavor combo since you introduced it to him quite some time ago.

 The Barista knew you all by name as they have been working here just as long as you have been coming to this café. Upon receiving your drinks, you make your way to your favorite booth in the corner. It’s hidden away from everyone, it’s nicely lit, and you can see everything happening around you. You’ve always liked to be aware of your soundings in any situations.

 Bakugo stares at you intensely, you know exactly where this is going. You take in a deep breath and sigh as he continued to ask you if you were alright. At first, you’re very hesitant but with sweaty hands and a quivering lip you look up and speak. “They’re back Kacchan. My nightmares, they’re back.” The amount of shock of his face was agonizing to see, he still remembers how bad they used to get. 

Your nightmares would get to the point where you would call bakugo in the middle of the night screaming and crying because of how real the dreams felt.  On days he could, he would sneak out of UA and come to comfort you. He would stay by your side and hold until you calmed down and slowly drifted back to sleep. It was so utterly heartbreaking for him to see you, his best friend so broken and scared. Some days he wouldn’t be able to sneak out but even then he would facetime you until you fell asleep and would stay on until the sun rose. No one ever knew about this not even Izuku. 

As you and Bakugo grew closer you and Deku started to slowly drift apart. Izuku only really cared about becoming a hero and his new friends. He spent all of his time with them training and even doing all the stuff you used to do. It made you feel thrown aside and unappreciated. Just because you didn’t have a quirk didn’t mean you still couldn’t hang out with him anymore. For someone who went most of his life unnoticed and quirk less you though he would understand how you felt but he really didn’t. Bakugo on the other hand made some new friends and they’re all really great but thankfully he always made time for you.

  Bakugo looks up into your eyes glossed over as tears start to form in the corners, he lays his hands atop yours. (Y/N) are you okay, do you know what triggered them to comeback?” He was quiet, worried about the response you may give him. You stare into his eyes thinking of your response, you didn’t know what to tell him. These nightmares you had were the same as they used to be. He’s already heard what happens. Images and scenes of you and the people you love dying in the most gruesome way. So detailed oriented as if they were memories you had once lived. Recently it has been the same recurring dream but last night, there were minor inconsistencies. 

“They’re the same Kacchan, I keep seeing myself and everyone around me die, but the worst part is how real they feel.” As you explained your most current dream to him you could see him become teary eyed. This was a dream that has made you feel so uneasy. This was a dream you had consistently back when you were younger. It started with you walking down an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar neighborhood. There was nothing unusual about it. You would always pass a thriving Onigiri shop, A couple dogs on a walk and even pass by the most beautiful flower shop. As you come to an intersection waiting to cross the road when you suddenly trip. You fly head first into oncoming traffic and the way your body id torn apart is appalling.

 While you only tell Bakugo the dream ends with you being hit, you don’t go into graphic detail not wanting to worry him more than you should. The strangest part is it always felt intentional, like someone was trailing you. You always felt eyes on you, and even though you never knew how to explain it you described them to be eyes that stared into your soul. You saw galaxies floating around in those eyes, just like clockworks. You always heard ticking in the back of your mind. Was it a count down? Why was this all you could now think about.

 As your mind came back to the realization you were talking to bakugo he let you know that he will always be there for you and in the end, things would be okay. He tried his hardest for you, but deep down you knew he would never understand. As the morning passes by your usually meeting is cut short as Bakugo was summoned to help out in crime that had gotten out of town downtown. You said your goodbyes and headed your separate ways.

As you headed home you decided to take a new route, a longer way home as you still wanted some time to yourself to reflect on everything happening. The walk was cold, but the sunlight made it bearable. The leaves were changing beautiful colors and were slowly falling. You took in the air around you as autumn was your favorite season of the year. Making your way farther into the neighborhood, you stopped as that heavy and unsettling feeling resurfaced. 

You tried to ignore it but as you made your way farther down the street you stop and stared to the building on coming up your right you notice the sign decomposing and falling apart. “Onigiri….” You were in shock, but the place looks like it’s been shut down for years, abandoned even. You continued on your way, but the unsettling feeling kept growing. You next find yourself in front of a flower shop. The flowers are all dead, and the store window was smashed to shreds. Maybe it was a quirk gone wrong. “This has to be a coincidence” you say to yourself trying to believe your own words.

 Suddenly you see it, someone walking two dogs passing you. You’re in a trance, panicking not understanding what’s happening and why you’re seeing everything you saw in your dreams. Without thinking you start running down the street. For a slight moment you glance back, to make sure no one was trailing you. As soon as you turned around you felt it, someone had pushed you right into oncoming traffic.

 As you look up while you fall you finally see her. A woman with galaxies in her eyes, was that apart of her quirk you wonder as you watch her disappear. As you’re falling you hear the ticking of clocks and see a bus heading for you. “This is it, this is how I die isn’t it?” You slowly begin to sob only wishing you had held on a little tighter to bakugo today. As you fall to the ground you’re stuck looking at the bus like a deer in headlights, when suddenly everything around you comes to a complete stop.

 As you’re heaving and trying to catch your breath you look around for a hero who may have been the cause for what’s happening. You’ve heard of hero’s who can slow objects and time around them for short periods of time but a hero who could stop time completely it was unheard of. There was no one in sight, how could that be you wondered to yourself. As you started getting up you heard the ticking of the clock speeding up, for some reason you knew this meant time would be returning to normal, you made your way back to the sidewalk. 

You stared at awe at the street where you just about died. You were quirk-less all your life, or so you thought.

#bakugou x y/n #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x reader #bakugou fluff #bakugo angst #bakugo katuski x reader #bakugo katsuki #mha #mha x reader #bnha #boko no hero academia #my hero acadamy #deku

[randomoranges]

we’re halfway there??? does that make anyone feel better? lamao

more warning for another minor character death lamao!

The Five Times Étienne Fell in Love

PART III

 It takes Étienne a while before he starts again once the storm of emotions has come and gone really. Edward nearly insists they stop for now, but just as he’s about to, Étienne picks up the conversation again.

 “It was decades – hell almost a century later, when I ran into Nicolas, quite by accident really. He was missing a nickel for the tramway fare and I happened to be right behind him. On top of that, he didn’t really speak French and I could tell the driver was getting irritated, so I stepped in and paid for him. Everyone seemed appeased and I didn’t think much of it, but we ended up sitting besides each other and he started chatting to me – I didn’t mind; he was very cute and his accents was utterly endearing.”

 “It turned out that his parents had immigrated after the first war. A relative of theirs had settled here and so his parents had followed afterwards. Nicolas was born shortly after they arrived, and he’d always considered himself British. He hadn’t really taken to the French vibe of the city, but at the time, it didn’t really bother me. He was handsome and cute with his deep blue eyes and charming smile, and he could have spoken a completely different language and it would have been fine!” Étienne laughs at that, amused by his own tale.

 “We ended up talking throughout the entire ride and both realised we had missed our stops when we got to the end of it. The driver had to tell us to get off. We were in a part of town he was unfamiliar with, and I volunteered to show him around – maybe to show him how nice the city was, maybe to stay with him a little longer – maybe even both. Whether out of genuine curiosity or growing interest, he agreed and so we spent the better part of that afternoon walking around town.”

 Edward can easily imagine Étienne coming to the aid of a cute stranger and then playing tour guide for them. Hell, Étienne’s played tour guide with him a number of times and it’s a role that suits him quite well. Étienne has a knack for making the city come alive as he weaves tales about it and he’s very skilled in finding all the right places one ought to see.

 “I was fascinated by him – his accent, his upbringing and his view of the world. He wasn’t like the usual people I hung around with and maybe that’s what pulled me to him initially. He was into different things, he played different sports, he read different books – everything about him was borderline exotic.  By the end of the evening, we were famished, so we went to one of my favourite restaurants for dinner. He was so funny – the way his nose crinkled when I suggested some items on the menu or how he laughed when I purposely mispronounced things in English.”

 “What was most surprising though, was at the end of the night, when we were headed back towards our respective places, he asked me if I wanted to come over – for a night cap or some other bogus excuse. I wasn’t exactly sure I was reading him correctly, but I thought that was extremely bold of him – to ask so openly and shortly after meeting me, even if it was just for a drink. I obviously said yes. I had enjoyed our time together and even if he would have been straight, he was easy on the eyes and interesting to listen to, so it was an easy decision to make.”

 “He actually did go through the motions when we got to his place; a charming little apartment that was the perfect size for a single guy. He did offer me a drink, which I accepted, but once the it was served and we were seated, I don’t have to paint you a picture of what happened next. He was very forward, which was surprising, considering, and also a nice change of pace. It was still risky of him – I could have gone to the police about his advances and he could have been prosecuted, but he flat out sat close, placed an arm around my shoulders and then leaned in to kiss me.”

 Edward too is surprised by the forwardness of Nicholas, considering the time period and the location, but then again, Montreal had always had a bubble of exceptions that had managed to thrive, one way or another, despite the catholic stronghold that had overseen the province for decades. One thing is for sure, he envies the ease at which Nicholas seemed to have conducted his life and nearly envies him that.

 “I was shocked! Surprised! But also extremely pleased by this turn of events. This, already, was so much different from the other men I had been with up until then. This wasn’t some brave soul in a brothel, or some anonymous jacking off in a bush with some man filled with shame and self-disgust. Nicholas was self-assured and okay with who he was. He left the lights on when we kissed and he didn’t kick me out of his bed after our first time together. He kept me close and even asked me if I wanted to spend the night. I was enchanted. This felt surreal. Needless to say, I stayed that night, the one after that and we started spending a lot of time together. In fact, it almost felt as though I had moved in with him within weeks of our first meeting.”

 “Being with Nicolas was exhilarating in ways I hadn’t experienced in years, at that point, and even though we were quite different, our differences made us work. There weren’t those usual franco-anglo tensions and as much as I took delight in his expressions and ways of being, he genuinely seemed to like my own quirks. For the first time since Charlotte had passed, I felt like I was at the top of my game; the sex was good, the company better and with time, I did come to love him – a lot.”

 “It was exhilarating to be with a man and even more so with Nicholas. He was – alive. Intelligent and – oh, he was flirty to boot! I loved being with him. It was easy being with him, which is saying something considering the fact that he wasn’t necessarily out, but he didn’t exactly hide it either. It helped that his parents lived far and that he wasn’t particularly close to them. In a way, he was carefree and I loved that about him. He managed to make every shitty situation better; it was just the way he was – very positive about life. What was even greater still was that at least, this time around, there’d be no pregnancy scares – I didn’t have to worry about that and losing both him and a baby all over again. We could simply be and it felt like opportunities I had never experienced before. He made it feel as though this could be a long-term thing and that maybe, one day soon, same sex relationships could be accepted. That we could be fully out in public beyond the underground meet up places.”

 “That sounds quite euphoric,” Edward says, disbelief evident in his voice. The 1930s weren’t exactly the most forward thinking of times, but hearing Étienne go about this part of his tale, it almost sounds as if he’s talking of some far away future.

 “I know, but that was part of Nicholas’ charm. He made you think that anything was possible. It was like a magic power he had; even when the news was terrible, he’d manage to find something positive to focus on and get my mind off of it and I loved that about him. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I had a lover. We were together in ways I had never thought I’d want to be ever again and I loved him. Fully and truly and so did he. It felt wonderful and it felt like a dream. We were together for a few years and they were spectacular years. I honestly thoughts I had found the one and that I could spend the rest of his lifetime with him. That I could wake up next to him for many more years to come and I looked forward to that...” He trails off again and once more, Edward knows that this is the part of the story that shifts and goes from good to bad.

 Étienne takes a deep breath and sighs sadly.

 “And then came the stupid war.”

 There had been many people in Québec who hadn’t wanted to participate in the war effort. This wasn’t their conflict, but one happening across the ocean. They felt bad for the people who died, sure, but it wasn’t up to them to be cannon fodder. The divide and tensions had been mighty and if anything, it had only made Quebecers even angrier – more resentful.

 “Of course, Nicolas wanted to join. He was British. He felt compelled to help the motherland or whatever. I tried to dissuade him from it. I didn’t want him to die, and it wasn’t up to him to save the world. Others could do that great sacrifice. He could stay here, with me, where he’d be loved and looked after and where we could be – happy. At first, he resisted and I managed to keep him safe, but I could tell that it bothered him that he was here, when he could be out there fighting.”

 “D’you know what he did in the war?” Edward asks softly, out of genuine curiosity. The letters had never mentioned and he’d always wondered.

 “He flew those goddamned planes.” Étienne answers him with an annoyed sort of sigh.

 Edward nearly laughs and tries to disguise it as a cough, but his boyfriend notices and gives him a sharp look. “Sorry, sorry – it’s just ironic,” At the questioning look he receives, he goes on, “I wanted to join as well – to fly planes more than anything.” He twiddles his thumbs nervously and avoids looking at Étienne, as if afraid he’d get angry or that for some reason he’d be hurt by the admission.

 “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. I’m certainly glad you didn’t – would’ve worried sick over you had I known.”

 He’s touched by Étienne’s comment and gives his hand another squeeze to help him calm down. Nothing had happened in the end. He’d chickened out, in a way. There would have been too much paperwork, he would have been away from home for too long of a stretch and it could have negatively impacted him. Then, there was obviously the fact that he couldn’t really die, which would have been a strange thing to explain during a war and too much of a headache to bother with. In the end, he’d stayed back and had found other ways to contribute.

 “Anyways; Nicolas waited out as long as he could, but in the end, he signed up regardless and promised to write as often as possible. I hated that I couldn’t be enough and keep him here where it was safe. It felt as though I was second best to some stupid war where the casualties kept climbing day after day and I came to resent him for it.”

 “I still remember the morning he left, clear as day. I hoped and prayed that as he headed out, he’d have a change of heart and come back to me, but after one last quick kiss behind the door, he left and never even looked back… It hurt. So much. I hadn’t cried that hard since Charlotte’s funeral. Still, I must have written to him every single day, hoping and praying that he was safe and sound – that he’d come back to me soon. We’d even decided to use Élyse as our middle-woman. It would be less strange for a “love-struck” woman to write to the front to her sweetheart, than for me to do the same. It worked, for a while. She’d get the letters and bring them over, and I would give her mine to mail out.”

 “Obviously, I didn’t hear from him as often, since he was on the front, but every letter I got from him was like a lifeline – assuring me that he was still alive. I heard horror stories back here, from wounded soldiers who returned and part of me wanted him to get hurt enough to be dispatched back home. Where I could take care of him. I wanted our old life back. I wanted its simplicity and I wanted to hold him close. I missed him, and every time they put up the list of new fallen soldiers, I checked, heart racing, hoping I wouldn’t see his name. When I didn’t, I would be relieved for a moment, until the anxiety would settle back it and I would worry until the next posting would be made.”

 “There were those few who were proud of their sons and men who’d gone off to fight – the proud widows who’d wear their grief as an honour badge, but I wanted none of that. I wanted a coward who had weaseled his way out of the war and who could stay with me. I didn’t want some war hero. I didn’t care about that.”

 He fidgets with his lighter, forcefully flicking it on and off with more force than necessary. Edward lets him and remains quiet, but keeps an eye on him in case Étienne was to accidentally set something on fire. Even Mercury looks up at him, concerned but Étienne ignores them both and takes a shaky breath to try and settle his nerves.

 “It would have been easier not to love him.” He says through gritted teeth. “It would have been easier to simply bed him and move on, but instead I went ahead and fell for him hard. The time we had together was too short and I hoped he’d come back to me – that we could resume our lives together.”

 “Of course, the universe had other plans. Of course, I wasn’t allowed to have any prolonged happiness. They went to my sister with the news, after they found the letters addressed to her in his bag. They assumed Élyse was his girlfriend and went to her with the news – telling her of the terrible accident – of the bravery the men in the plane had faced – of the great sacrifice they had done for our country. The usual bullshit they’d told so many others. There was no body found in the wreckage and so they pronounced him missing in action.”

 “The minute they were gone, she came to see me to tell me the news. The moment I saw her face – the moment I saw her walk up to my door, I knew she had news of Nicolas and that it wasn’t good. I think I would have preferred him to be dead for good, instead of the ugly false hope that lived in me for years after – that he might show up one day, out of the blue. Instead, I was stuck unable to mourn properly. There was no body to burry, no marker to go to, and no way for me to find closure. Until the war ended and every soldier was returned, I was left waiting and hoping. And even then. Years after, I was still looking for him. Sometimes, I’d think I’d hear his laugh. A person with similar hair would trick me into believing it was him. He was gone and yet, I saw his ghost everywhere.”

 Despite knowing all of this, Edward stills at the mention. He wonders how he would have reacted had he been in a similar situation and knows he would have been as much of a wreck as Étienne had.

  “On top of that, I couldn’t even find comfort or solace with his family. His parents didn’t know of us and neither did his other siblings. The only one I could turn to was Élyse and she did her best – really, but she wasn’t Nicolas, and what I wanted above all else was him.”

 “Eventually, years later, I bought a little spot at the cemetery and buried the last of his belongings that I had. I needed to put him to rest in my own way to move on. I still couldn’t cope and I needed to – do something. I took the clothes he had left at my place and the bag they had brought back to my sister and buried them in that little plot. There was no big fanfare about it and only a small headstone to mark the place, but it was some type of closure, even if the body wasn’t there.” Étienne tries not to draw parallels between Charlotte and Nicholas – of graves that have been more or less lost to time and that no one has visited in years. He knows where both are and has, on occasion, purposely passed by to reflect and commemorate. Time has done its due course and has healed some of his aches, yet there have still been times when he’s yearned for one more chance to see them again.

 Edward gives the necessary space to the words that Étienne has just said. He thinks about how unlucky his boyfriend has been in love, but keeps the comment to himself, convinced Étienne is properly aware. He’s buried his own fare share of friends he’d been close to; brothers and sisters lost in one way or another and he supposes that to a certain point, he can related. Yet knowing how close Étienne keeps his pains and how much he internalises everything, he wonders just how deep his wounds really run.

 “I asked Emma, later, to look into him – to use her contacts to see if she could find out anything. She told me there wasn’t anything else – what I knew was what was out there and I left it at that. Still, there were times when I felt as though she had found out more – some terrible truth, or maybe just something more emotionally painful. I didn’t pursue it. I didn’t want to re-open old wounds that had barely started to scab over. I chose to believe her that he’d died just like they’d said – he’d died in his plane and his body had been lost over the sea. The other possibilities were too painful to consider and I chose to remember our time together as one of love instead of having it tainted by something ugly.”

 “After Nicolas, I felt like I had been left to the side of the road to die. I felt empty – as if my heart had been ripped out of my ribcage. It was easier to return to the previous status-quo – to go on with everyday life and forget I had ever felt anything for them. Charlotte and Nicholas were gone and I was still here. That’s always been our curse – we can’t die and we don’t really change, while everyone else around us does. We notice them grow older until they’re gone and no matter how hard we try to remember, eventually even that’s taken away... But I’d get over it – with time. I’d had my fun and I had been reminded why I had found the whole thing pointless. Why it was best to stay away from love.”

 Edward agrees to a point. It is hard, certainly, but in his opinion, there is also beauty in love and in falling in love. He knows Étienne means it from a point of hurt, so he keeps the thought to himself and listens on.

--

Part II

Part IV

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #edward murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #projocanondoko

[mmand0]

gravel & wine.

Chapter Two: Fuego

Rating: 18+ 

TW: violence, alcohol

Notes: Chapter One: Colombia

Word Count: 2,000+

Notes: this fic is also on AO3 under nyraren

It has been two months since your arrival, and things are definitely not the same as the shit you went through back in California. There was a lot more blood. So many bodies... It made you sick every night. You didn't usually drink every day, but things change you suppose. The first few weeks wasn't so bad. More briefs, reading, tracking down files, et cetera. You spent every afternoon in the bathroom for about ten minutes to recharge in silence, then grabbed lunch with the boys. At night, you found yourself either by yourself driving around with the car the embassy assigned to you, or eating dinner with Javi. He was good company most nights. He was helping you with your Spanish and learning about Colombian culture while the two of you eat your dinner. Sometimes when you had a long day, you would order beer and took walks around the neighborhood with him. You always invited Murphy and his wife, but he usually declined. Part of you always hoped he would decline so you could be alone with Javi. He was easy on the eyes and he tends to flirt with you, but you liked to pretend to not notice. Besides, you had to be professional. Right?

Overall, Colombia and work were fine. There were a few heated arguments between the three of you, but it was always resolved. The boys were beginning to get used to you and your personality, and you got used to theirs. Routine was beginning to form in the office and after work hours. It was good; maybe even healthier compared to working with the DEA in California. On this particular afternoon, the three of you found yourselves sitting around, noses deep into files, the briefing room filled with smoke. You were sitting on the floor, legs crossed, a file in one hand while the other was rubbing the back of your neck. Murphy was standing in front of the board with his hands on his hips, and Javi sat on the table a cigarette between his lips. His eyes stared at the photographs and strings connecting the various cartel members to locations and events, but sometimes you could have sworn he stole glances at you.

Today's outfit of choice was a black blouse paired with dark jeans and brown boots. You put your hair into a messy twisted bun- your signature look when working. Perhaps it was out of boredom, or perhaps it was you testing whether Javi truly was looking at you, you decided to fuck with him a bit. So, with your fingers, you slowly dragged it all over your chest, pretending it was just a mindless act as you studied the files. Every time you did it, Javi would shift in his seat or clear his throat. Every now and then you would bite your thumb. Just fun and games, you'd think as you suppressed a smirk. Before you could do anything else, the phone rang. The three of you turned to the phone, hearts beating quickly. Murphy got to it first.

"Murphy. What?"

Pause.

"Where?"

Pause.

"We're on it."

Click.

"Let's go," he said, grabbing his gun from the table.

"What's going on?" you asked as you scrambled to get up.

"Poison was spotted."

You and Javi exchanged looks and followed Murphy. You grabbed your guns, bulletproof jackets, and sunglasses, then Javi began barking orders at groups of police officers. Here we go. The three of you hurried to Javi's car- Murphy got shotgun and you in the back. The adrenaline surged in your body as your team headed to the location. This was the kind of shit that made you stay in the profession. That and... well, that's a story you hate to think about. Javi drove as quickly as he could, careful not to go too fast. He parked a block away from the building. It looked like a brothel. Through a window, you spotted Poison walking across the room talking to someone.

"There!" you whispered, leaning in your seat. The boys nodded.

"You ready, California?" Murphy asked.

"I have to be."

"Good."

Javi radioed the officers and gave specific instructions. The rush of the adrenaline gave you a high better than the buzz of any cigarette. Police officers surrounded the area- there was no way these guys could escape. The three of you made your way to the front of the building, motioning the women to stay quiet. Murphy led the way while you and Javi followed. You were nearly on the same floor as Escobar's men when one of his men came out of one of the rooms. Bullets began to fly, and the sounds of screaming echoed through the building.

"GO!" Javi yelled as you and a few officers ran after the suspects. You could hear Poison and at least two others running for the roof. "THEY'RE HEADING UP! COVER ME!" you yell as you shot at the first man you ran into. Missed. The three of you and two other officers hurried to the rooftop. More bullets flew past your team. Nearly there. Murphy was faster than you, and by the time you were at the top, he was already chasing Poison. You paused to find where the other two suspects were, but before you could even move, you felt Javi pull you against him as a bullet flew by your head.

"Keep your head in the fucking game, Y/N. Go!"

You nodded and began running after the one who shot you. You never actually killed anyone... At least not on purpose. There has only been one incident where you managed to kill someone, but the guy didn't die from the bullet. He survived and was taken to the hospital, but died from blood loss. It didn't count. As you, Javi, and Murphy chased the men on the rooftops, you couldn't help but think of the worst. Be smart. Tire him out, you thought as you ran. The man kept shooting, but missed every time. He led you through a building, pushing obstacles in your way. As quickly as you could, you maneuvered your way around it and followed him to the street. He was getting tired. There it was: your moment. The man stopped for a good few seconds, and that was enough for you to aim your gun.

"STOP! FREEZE!" you yelled. He turned, gun pointed at you. "DROP YOUR FUCKING WEAPON!"

"VETE A LA MIERDA PERRA!" He tried to shoot at you, but you were able to duck behind a brick wall in time. Then you heard the best sound you could imagine: click, click, click. He was out and this was it. You leaned enough to shoot the man. It was a blur. You saw him fall back as the bullet penetrated his head. Three police officers approached the body, guns at the ready while you took a moment to breathe. Were you even breathing this whole time? You could feel the acid climbing up your throat. The look the man had on his face burned in your mind. He wasn't afraid... He was ready. It was survival of the fittest here, and death was a better road to take than being captured.

Around the corner, you could hear Javi calling for you. It felt as though the world began to spin as you hunched over to vomit. Beads of cold sweat ran down your forehead as you emptied your stomach. The chunks of human flesh and brain etched in your memories forever. You murdered someone. There was no going back. Javi came to your side, strong hands grabbing your shoulders.

"Get your shit together, Y/N. Come on," he said, forcing you to stand.

"Where's Murphy?"

"Back at the front. Poison got away."

"What about the other guy?"

"Gone."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, and stood to face Javi. You were pale and the look of shock frozen in your eyes. He softened his expression and stared at you for a few seconds. "You did good, California. You did good."

The ride back to the office was extremely quiet. You could feel Javi and Murphy's frustration with Poison's escape, but there was no one to blame. They were all snakes and eels. They had eyes and men everywhere. Night had fallen by the time the three of you finished the reports needed for today's events. Murphy was quiet the whole evening, silently tapping on the typewriter. Javi kept a close eye on you, offering you a cigarette from time to time which you gladly took every single time. You were still pale from shock, but you managed to get through the paperwork. Murphy finished his report, bid farewell, and headed out the door before anyone could say goodbye. You had finished yours earlier, but you hadn't moved from the desk. You couldn't stop thinking about what you had done.

"Come on," Javi said, putting his leather jacket on.

"What?"

"Just come on," he said, offering his hand to you.

"Where-"

"No questions. Come on."

You grabbed your gun and took his hand. He noticed how cold and clammy you were and gave you a gentle squeeze. He let go as soon as you stood and led you to his car. "Leave your car here. Let's take mine." In the car, you began chewing on your thumbnail, eyes glazed.

"First time?"

"What?"

"First time killing someone?"

You nodded and sighed heavily. "I don't know what I was expecting... I didn't think I would be that weak."

Javi shook his head. "You're not. I promise you, you're not."

"Does it get easier?"

"No."

"Where are we going?"

"The store. Stay in the car."

Javi turned a corner and parked in front of a liquor store. You didn't notice how long he was gone, but by the time he returned he had a bag filled with two different bottles of alcohol, a couple packs of cigarettes, and some kind of snack. Good idea, Javi. Drink my sorrows away. Javi parked the car across the street from the apartment and turned to you. "You don't have to come inside if you don't want to, but I think you shouldn't be alone tonight."

He was right. You were in no condition to be by yourself, and you needed company more than ever. Javi exited the car with the goods in hand, and motioned for you to follow him to his apartment. His home was simple. Not much decorations- very much a bachelor's pad. You took your shoes off and placed it by the door, and headed straight to the sofa. You wondered how many women went through those doors before untying your hair. Javi was in the kitchen looking for glasses and his ashtray.

"Gin or whiskey?" The only liquor that you really drank.

"You remembered."

"Of course I did."

"Gin. With lime if you have it."

Javi returned with a glass of gin for you and whiskey for him. He sat on the other sofa and opened the new pack of cigarettes. "Talk to me, California. How are you holding up?"

You sipped the gin, wincing slightly. "I don't know. I'm just in shock. It was... It was nothing I imagined."

"Of course not. Do you regret it?"

"No."

You reached for the pack of cigarettes, and Javi leaned to light it for you. You inhaled deeply and lifted your head towards the ceiling before letting the smoke curl out of your lips. "This shit is harder than I thought, Javi." You closed your eyes as you sucked on the cigarette again. "These guys... They're not scared of death." You sat up and ran a hand through your hair. "What the fuck am I doing here? I vomited. I was weak-"

"Stop. You get used to it, Y/N. It won't ever get easier, but you'll get used to it."

You moved towards the end of the sofa, closer to Javi. "What's your secret?" You asked, drinking more of the gin. Javi leaned towards you, noses nearly touching. The smell of whiskey and cigarette escaped his lips. Maybe it was liquid courage, but before he could answer, your lips were on his. Careful not to burn anything, you did your best to put your cigarette out. You felt his hands find its way to the back of your neck, gripping it tightly. He could probably feel your pulse quickening as his tongue traced your lips. A moan hummed in your chest as his tongue entered yours.

Fuck.

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #narcos fanfic #pedro pascal

[mikahowl]

All These Feelings

Summary: Oh no. Oh fuck. Are those… feelings? Shit. She has a crush on none other than Bucky Barnes. A crush. Gross. This was not supposed to happen. Reader finds herself falling for Bucky Barnes despite her number one rule: Don’t fall in love! But with Bucky’s constant flirting and always being so nice and so handsome, what can a girl do? There’s just one small problem: she hasn’t gotten over the pain of a past relationship, and she doesn’t want to get hurt again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x unnamed female character

Word Count: 3926 (including song lyrics in italics)

Warnings: NSFW (18+), oral (female receiving), angst, pining, mention of a bad past relationship, brief scene of verbal abuse but nothing too graphic.

A/N: My entry for Laur’s (@fvckingavengers​) Quarantine Writing Challenge. I am not a writer. I enjoy writing, but I do not think I am very good at it lol. Also I suck at smut. This is my first time ever posting my own writing on this site, so please be nice! Enjoy!

Inspired by Feelings by Hayley Kiyoko 

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

I walk through this world, just tryna be nice 

They say I’ll get hurt, if I’m not like ice

I know I’ve got friends, I still get so lonely

If I look in your eyes, I’ll want you to hold me

“Whaddya doin’ down there?” Bucky’s heavy boot knocks into her foot as he peers down at the girl on the floor, crumpled out like a wet towel. His hands are on his hips, and his hair is pulled back into a low bun. She makes no move to look toward him, only noticing the largest details out of the corners of her eyes.

“I’m contemplating my existence, I thought that was obvious,” she gives one slow blink toward the ceiling to punctuate her statement, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Why ya doin’ that?” she doesn’t have to see him to know there’s a smirk on his stupid pink lips. 

She heaves a dramatic sigh, “Oh, my sweet, innocent Binky.” She follows this up with some incoherent mumbling.

Bucky shakes his head, chuckling silently to himself. He clears his throat and circles around her limbs on the living room floor to sit next to her, back pressed against the couch. She finally glances his way, catching his eyes.

“Ya know, when people examine their place in the world, they usually do it alone.”

“Do ya want me to go?”

“Nnngh,” a groan followed by a small shake of the head.

Bucky chuckles again, looking down at the girl. “I’ll take that as a no.” A couple seconds of silence pass before he speaks up again, more serious. “Doll, what’s wrong?”

She hesitates a moment before fishing around on the floor for her phone, tapping on the screen some, and then shoving it towards him. He takes it from her hands to find it on the calendar app. Ah, yes. The fifteenth. The dreaded fifteenth. Bucky knows this date has some sort of significance to her, but he doesn’t know what it is. Hasn’t asked. He sets the phone down on her rising and falling stomach.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he taps the inside of her wrist and she turns her head, her eyes finding his. There’s a sadness there, an ache, deep rooted, twisting all around inside her. Bucky wishes he can take it away. “Hey, look, I don’t know what’s goin’ on up there today,” he waggles a finger toward her head and she smiles despite herself. “But whatever it is, I know you’re stronger. I know you can overcome it. But anyway, I hope the pain eases soon,” he smiles sweetly, his eyes shining.

There’s suddenly a lump in her throat, and she has to force herself to look away. “Ugh, stop looking at me like that! Go away, you’re being too nice!” she waves a hand at him, shooing him away.

Bucky’s laughing as he stands from the floor. “Hey, when you’re done being a slug on the rug, come find me an’ Steve, we’ll treat ya to somethin’ good for dinner, yeah? Take ya mind off all that crap.” She only groans in response.

~~

I over-communicate and feel too much

I just complicate it when I say too much

I laugh about it, dream about that casual touch

Sex is fire, sick and tired of acting all tough

“Still here?” Nat’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts, and she looks up from the floor to find her best friend staring down at her, disappointment clear on her face. She frowns and lets her head drop back to the floor. “Alright, that’s enough,” Nat tosses her training gear on the couch and stalks over to her friend, gripping each slender wrist in her hands and yanking until she’s sitting up on her ass. The assassin only rolls her eyes at the accompanying groans of disapproval. She sits down in front of her friend.

“You could’ve just asked,” she pouts, picking at the strings on her frayed jeans.

Natasha shakes her head. “No more nice guy, yeah? This is getting ridiculous,  babe. Two years now, and he’s still got you like this. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but... it’s time to get over it.” She refuses to meet Nat’s eyes, swallowing around the lump in her throat and blinking away the stinging in her eyes. “You’re here now with a family that loves you. Maybe even one that loves you more than others,” she raises her brows suggestively, nudging her friend’s arm.

She laughs and shakes her head, “Stop! It’s not like that. Bucky and I are just friends.”

Nat gives her a look, Really?  “But you could be more than that, you know, if you just let it happen.”

“I can’t, Nat. You know I can’t,” she hugs her arms to herself and draws her knees in. Nat knows full well, the two girls have talked about the story countless times, but it’s been two years. Two long years.

“You’re thinking too much about it, babe. Aren’t you tired? You could be happy again. I want you to be happy again,” all too familiar, this conversation. So many times, Nat’s tried to talk some sense into her best friend. Maybe this time it’ll work.

She sighs, letting Nat’s words sink in. Yeah, she is tired. But what happens if she lets someone in again and things go wrong? Or what if that someone decides she wasn’t worth all the trouble? What if she doesn’t know how to be in a relationship again?

Hands are on her shoulders, shaking her out of her thoughts, “Stop! I can see you thinking. You have to stop letting those thoughts in your head, they’re doing you no good,” she searches her friend’s eyes for a moment before bringing her into her arms. “I know it’s hard, but I know you can get through this.”

~~

Caught up inside, both happy and lonely

Keep telling me lies, they’re killing me slowly

I get too attached, they don’t even know me

Why can’t I relax? Why can’t I relax?

Two Years Ago, September 15th

‘I’ll be late, don’t wait up.’ ‘I’m just out with a friend, you have nothing to worry about.’ ‘You’re acting crazy!’

“Please, Nick, why did you do this?” There’s tears streaming down her blotchy face, blurring her vision as she watches her long-term boyfriend, turned fiance frantically shove clothes and other belongings into bags, stomping around their shared bedroom.

“Take a guess, sweetheart,” he spits, rolling his eyes as she flinches away from him.

“I tried… I wanted to be good for you, I did! Nick, please!” she’s practically on her hands and knees for him on the bed, sobbing his name over and over again. The same place their pretty neighbor was doing the same thing only an hour before.

“Oh, please! You were never gonna be good enough! Don’t you get that? All this time spent with you, wasted! And now look at you; you’re pathetic!” He laughs as she breaks down completely in front of him, crumpling forward on the bed spread. He zips the bags and moves closer, gripping the hair on the back of her head to lift her face up, spitting out, “You’ll never be good enough for anyone, you disgusting, little bitch.” Shoving her head back to punctuate his statement, he leaves her alone in the big, empty house.

Two Years Ago, September 18th

There’s knocking on the front door but she can’t be bothered to acknowledge it. Can’t even turn her head toward the door from her position lying across the couch. It stops finally, and she lets her eyes fall closed, until she feels hands on her shoulders, shaking her awake. For one dreadful second, it’s Nick, back to harass and call her names, but it’s just Natasha. 

“Hey, sweetie. You haven’t been answering my calls,” her voice is low and soft, one hand rubbing soothing circles into the fragile girl’s arm. She doesn’t say anything. “I don’t know what happened, but you don’t look too good. How about I make you something to eat and drink, and then we get you washed up and into some new clothes and you can tell me what happened, okay?” Hesitation, then a small nod. Nat gives her a kind smile. “Okay. I’ll take care of you. Everything will be alright.”

~~

I’m sorry that I care, care

I’m sorry that I care, care

It’s really not that fair, fair

I can’t help but care

She’s thinking back to that day as she towel dries her hair, fresh from the shower and in her newly clean bedroom. When Natasha wants to get someone up and out of a funk, she knows exactly what to do. There’s butterflies swarming in her stomach. Thoughts racing with things unsaid, a certain someone flashing before her eyes. Natasha was right. Things need to change, before it’s too late.

A knock sounds at the door as she’s dressing in a pair of cotton pajamas. Her heart skips, because she knows that knock. Sure enough, when she opens the door just enough to peek around, it’s Bucky, all warm smiles and soft locks. It’s infectious, and she can’t help but smile back. 

“Hey, there she is,” he says, tucking a loose strand behind his ear.

She opens the door a bit wider. “Hey, Buck. Sorry about dinner, Nat made me clean my room.” she gestures behind her and steps out of the way so he can see. Not wanting to make him stand in the hall the whole time, she invites him in and closes the door behind them.

“No worries, I put some leftovers in your fridge.” There it is. Always looking out for her. 

She wrings her hands together and sits on the edge of the bed, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat. “Hey, Buck?” He raises his eyebrows. Now that she really looks at him, she can tell he’s tense. Hands in his pockets, shoulders up around his neck. Something isn’t right. But she promised herself she wouldn’t chicken out. “We… we need to talk.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I think we do,” He nods his head. “Because I’ve been wracking my brain all day trying to figure this thing out. I thought I was being obvious, but then I was thinking maybe you just don’t notice. And I was talking to Stevie, and he said something that got me thinking, hey, maybe she just doesn’t like me.” He shrugs his shoulders and finishes with his hands on his hips, staring down at his boots. 

“Oh, Bucky, I’m so sorry! God, this is exactly what I didn’t want to happen!” she jumps up from the bed. “Bucky, look at me, please.” Their eyes meet and she has to steel herself for what she’s about to say. Because she’s about to break her number one rule. For two years, she’s kept her heart guarded, stayed away from anyone who tried to break through her walls. But Bucky has been that one constant who never gave up no matter how many times she shut him out or turned him down. She’s going against every instinct ingrained in her body, but sometimes you have to fight that, and just listen to your heart. “I think… I think I might be in love with you.”

There. It’s out there. In the air, in the open. He heard it. She knows, because he’s looking at her like she just grew two heads. Now, she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Bucky breathes out a disbelieving laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Ya know, sometimes, I just don’t get you.” Despite his words, there’s a smile on his lips.

“I know. Trust me, I know. I haven’t been fair to you, Bucky, and I’m sorry for that,” she takes a step closer, but he holds out a hand.

“Why? I spent all this time chasing after you, and time after time you tell me no, but suddenly you’re in love with me? I just don’t get it,” he isn’t trying to be mean, but there are tears welling up in her eyes and she’s backing away from him, hugging herself. “Hey…”

“I’ve been so afraid! Bucky, I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been hurt, real bad, by someone I thought who loved me. He said things, nasty things, and I swore to myself I would never fall in love again. But then you came along!” she gestures to him and laughs through her tears. “Always making me laugh and calling me pretty, and remembering the things I like, and bringing me leftovers when I don’t come to dinner,” she wipes the tears quickly away and tries to swallow the lump in her throat.

Everything clicks in his brain. It all makes sense now. Bucky curses himself for not noticing it sooner, the pain she was in. “Shit, doll, I’m sorry, I shoulda realized.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. You did everything right. I should’ve told you. I just kept thinking ‘why me?’, ya know? Why would he ever want me? Stupid, broken, little me,” she avoids his eyes, toeing the damp towel on the floor by the end of the bed.

“Hey, don’t say that,” he comes closer and brings her into his arms, wrapping an arm around her waist and a hand in her hair. She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “There’s always been something about you,” he chuckles, thankful she can’t see the burning of his cheeks. “I think you might be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He laughs at her muffled ‘yeah right’ into his neck. “I’m serious! You’re gorgeous, and funny, and kind, and you always know the right thing to say. How anyone could ever hurt you is beyond me.”

She pulls away just enough to look into his eyes. “You really mean all of that?”

He nods. “Of course. I haven’t spent all this time chasing after you just for the hell of it.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?” he brushes a stray tear from her cheek and leaves his palm there, smiling when she leans into it.

“For wasting your time?”

“Any time spent with you is no time wasted.”

Her heart leaps. “Shit, Bucky,” she presses her forehead into his and they both laugh. “James Buchanan Barnes? I’m in love with you.”

His eyes fall closed as he takes in those words. “I have been waiting so long for you to say that.” He smiles, so soft and delicate. His eyes are searching hers, warm palm pressed to her jaw, calloused thumb brushing her cheek. It’s like time has slowed now. Like they’re the only two people in the world, in this little room.

He’s looking right at her, studying her expression for any reason to pull away, to stop what he’s about to do. There’s no rush, no urgency, just the desire to be close, to feel the touch of another. He leans closer, and her tongue darts out to moisten her lips. His eyes follow the action, and he hesitates. He nudges her nose with the tip of his, running it along the bridge. His stubble scratches her upper lip, and she twists his shirt in her grasp. All she wants to do is pull him as close as she can, to savor the feeling of their bodies pressed together. 

It’s amazing how suddenly- in the span of just a couple of moments- someone can realize that the person standing right in front of them is everything they’ve ever wanted, everything they’ll ever need. Bucky pulls back just an inch to look into her eyes again, and what he sees there must convince him, finally, for he presses his lips to hers. Delicate at first, then more firm. He sucks in a breath through his nose, his hand pulling her close, the other wrapping in the hair at the base of her neck, tilting her head back further. 

She sighs out a quiet moan, savoring the taste of his lips, the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around her. Her heart clenches in her chest, and she knows this kiss will seal her fate. She loves him. God, how she loves him.

I’m hooked on all these feelings

I know exactly how I’m feelin’

This love asylum, like an island, just me and you

She pulls back to catch her breath, looking into his eyes and they share intense contact for a few seconds. “Wow…”

Bucky chuckles, right thumb tracing the skin of her exposed hip. “Wow is right.”

She bites her lip to try to fight the smile, but it’s useless. “I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too.” Bucky thinks he will never get used to the way those words sound coming from her mouth, especially directed towards him.

She looks at him for a moment, eyes tracing every line of his face, before bringing a hand up to rest on his chin. Something shifts in her expression, and it causes the air in the room to change. She presses herself closer to him, if that were even possible. “Bucky… make love to me.”

His heart stops. When he woke up this morning, those were the very last words he imagined coming from her mouth. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life. I love you, Bucky, and I want you,” her voice lowers and it sends a shiver down his spine.

He nods, “Okay.”

It’s like a switch is flipped, and everything is sent into overdrive. Their lips connect again, this time more forcefully, tongues dancing in tandem. Bucky has her shirt halfway up her torso, so she breaks away to pull it over her head, tossing it to the floor. He takes a moment to admire her, softly caressing her skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. She’s not wearing a bra, and she’s even more beautiful than he ever imagined.

His lips are on her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, anywhere he can reach, fingers rolling and tweaking her nipples until she’s moaning and shivering in his arms. She’s making the best damn sounds he’s ever heard, every single one of them shooting straight down between his thighs. Her hands are in his hair, over his shoulder, on his arms. They can’t get enough of each other.

She’s reaching down now, nails scratching his stomach through his shirt until she’s at his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it through the loops. It drops to the floor with a dull thud, and he pulls his shirt over his head to follow quickly after. Lips pressed together again, teeth gnashing in their fervor. He picks her up from the floor with a quick squeal and deposits her on the bed, crawling in over her. Things slow for a moment, and he looks into her eyes, one hand cradling her head. “You’re breathtaking,” he kisses her slow and deep, trailing fire down her neck to her exposed chest and stomach. He’s kissing and sucking and biting everywhere he can reach. His hands trail after his kisses, surpassing them to linger at the waistband of her cotton shorts. He looks up at her through his lashes to gauge her reaction. Sensing no hesitation, he slowly pushes them down, and she lifts her hips to make it easier for him. They join the other clothes on the floor.

“You sure you still want this?”

“Yes, god, yes!”

Bucky chuckles and places a wet kiss just above her mound, trailing them down then around where she wanted him most to kiss down her thigh and up the other one.

She sighs wantonly. “You’re good at this.”

“And you’re good at making me want you.” He tucks his fingers into the waistband and starts pulling them down agonizingly slow. She moans at his words. Every sound she makes goes straight to his cock.

She’s already wet for him as he spreads her lips with two fingers, groaning at the sight. He leans in close and blows gently on her clit, making her jerk and giggle. He revels in the sound. His tongue flicks out to glide along her lower lips, avoiding her most sensitive parts, teasing her to drive her wild. He runs his index finger just outside her clenching hole, collecting her juices. She was on the verge of begging before he finally placed a broad lick from her opening to her clit.

She moans loudly and arches her back. He groans at the sound and taste of her, gripping her thighs to keep her still as he closes his mouth around her clit, sucking gently. He starts flicking his tongue, switching from quick flicks to long licks, until she’s dripping for him. She’s growing increasingly louder, and he’s grinding his hips into the mattress to find friction.

He pulls away and licks his lips. He pushes in one finger, then another, scissoring them in and out, curling them up at the end of each stroke to find that special spot. He uses his tongue on her clit again, slowly licking and flicking it to build tension until she’s clenching around his fingers, hips rising off the bed. “Oh, shit, Bucky! Fuck, don’t stop! I’m gonna cum,” true to her word, seconds later, she comes around his fingers, hands gripping his hair, hips bucking up into his face until she goes still, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He licks her up before kissing his way back up her stomach, sucking and nibbling her nipples before taking her mouth again. She can taste herself on him, and she moans, wrapping her thighs around his waist. Bucky reaches down with one hand and pushes his briefs down just enough to free his throbbing cock. “Fuck, darlin’, I need ya bad.” As he pushes in, stretching her walls around him, she knows she’s in for a long night.

Spent the night, you got me high

Oh, what did you do?

I’m hooked on all these feelings

~~

Extended Ending - The Next Morning

She finds Nat, Steve, and Sam in her kitchen as she stumbles out of her room the next morning, barely even able to walk after the night she had. She wishes she’d put more clothes on, instead of just Bucky’s shirt from last night and clean panties. Bucky. Oh, yeah. She can’t keep the smile from her face no matter how hard she tries.

The three of them are having a conversation as she fixes a bowl of cereal, thoughts filled with memories of the night before, stomach swimming with desire for more. “What’s got you all smiley this morning?” Sam asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

Her spoon clinks loudly against the bowl as she wipes the smile from her face and looks up to find the three of them smirking at her. Her face is on fire. She can feel it. She wants the world to swallow her. “Uh… nothing?”

As if the universe wants to mock her, Bucky chooses this moment to stumble into the kitchen, bed hair a complete, endearing mess, blearily rubbing his eyes. He seems not to notice the three guests as he walks straight toward her, kisses her on the mouth, and says simply, “Good mornin’.”

A beat of silence passes. “Well, shit. It’s about damn time!” Sam shouts,  startling Bucky so much he drops the box of cereal onto the floor.

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

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to like, comment, or reblog if you did. (Please do not repost!)

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #laur's quarantine writing challenege #song fic #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #marvel #marvel fanfic #my fic #mine

[missinghan]

night changes ⤖ bang chan

❖ genre : friends to lovers! au; fluff; 

❖ word count : 5.3k

❖ warning : explicit language & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : kissing Bang Chan was never on your New Year's resolutions list but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

one.

This is probably the tenth wedding you’ve been asked to plan out and as always, you’re not having it. 

In your defense, there are countless reasons to hate a wedding. 

One, all of your friends are out and about, running into the love of their lives like it was meant to be. Soon enough, all of your girls’ night out would be cancelled in replacement for their date nights. The next thing you know is that you’re now standing somewhere in the audience while they’re having their soon-to-be husband slipping the wedding band on their ring finger. Meaning, all you can answer during every family gathering about your non-existent love life is “I‘m not seeing anyone.” 

Two, you don’t trust someone enough for them not to break your heart because you’re incredibly terrified of commitment. A single vow and a piece of paper simply means nothing if their feelings for you fade as time passes by. And obviously, they’d feel obligated not to leave you behind because, well, like they’ve said before - “I do.”

Three, people always say, if you love something, you have to learn to let it go. From your point of view, that’s just total bullshit. If you love something so badly, why should you even let it go in the first place ? You’re supposed to hold onto to it like your life depends on it, even if it makes you seem utterly pathetic. And you’re the kind of person who falls in love with someone, then let your entire universe revolves around them. Not to mention, you’d always end up getting hurt anyway. 

Four, who the fuck would want to get married on New Year’s Eve ? Kim Woojin, unfortunately. 

Not only do you feel personally called out because your best friend knows that you’re super single and super antisocial at the same time, but also because your other friends have already got themselves a kiss before 2020 even strikes. No doubt, you’d rather stay at home and cuddle with your dog instead. At least he’s willing to give you kisses at all times. 

Worst case scenario ? You can still sit back and chat with your favorite person in the whole wide world. Hyunjin is easily mistaken by people that he’s either a player or a fuckboy, but in reality, he’s the literal definition of a ‘Hot Cheetos’. Meaning, he’s quite the looker but has the IQ of a freaking Cheetos despite his sparkly GPA because he’s just lost all the time. Anyhow, you never take his company for granted. He would rather take a step back and watch others party until they pass out on the floor, very much similar to you. In conclusion, you guys are practically platonic soulmates. 

“How’s Felix been doing with that girl from work ?” You ask while sipping on the glass of rosé that a waitress has politely offered. Getting hammered tonight isn’t a bad choice, you figure as soon as ‘Beautiful in white’ starts playing in the background. 

Hyunjin purses his lips and stares at his glass of bubbly water. “He was shaking while talking to her via text. Via text ! Fucking pathetic.” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “At this rate, I’ll have no choice but to steal his phone and ask her out on a date in courtesy of him.” 

You nod in acknowledgement. “He didn’t even have the courage to confess to the girl in Park’s business class back in college. How is he gonna get with someone from work where everything’s more complex and dramatic ? If he doesn’t have a girlfriend by next year, I’ll make him marry Seo Changbin.” Frowning at the burning sensation from the alcohol, you shake your head before placing the glass down. That’s too much wine for today. 

You low-key feel bad for Felix and high-key wants to grill his ass at the same time. He might not be very smart, academically, but his hardworking nature made up for everything and that’s why he’d always excel in every single class that he attended. And if you were one of those shallow girls who are all about appearances and shit, you’d definitely fall for him. With a decently attractive face and chiseled abs, he already had your whole school down on their knees back then. 

Okay, you might have exaggerated but Lee Felix is really something else. If only people could take more effort in getting to know him, he’s not just another pretty face to look at because nobody’s perfect. Felix is that kid who ran on three hours of sleep back in school because he had to finish homework then played video games in the dark until he’s sick of it. His parents’ bank accounts were probably mortified because they had to pay for their son’s eye surgery sooner or later. 

But he is your stepbrother after all, in spite of his flaws. 

“Wait, isn’t that Bang Chan from Changbin’s hip hop trio ? 3racha right ?” You notice a familiar face in the midst of chaotic people. 

Hyunjin cranes his neck over the crowd and spots Chan almost immediately. “Oh right, we did decide to keep in touch but haven’t really talked that much. I heard they got signed into a music production company so things have been a bit crazy for them. You know, the music industry. Problematic as shit.” 

Truth is, you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t have a crush on Chan back in the good old days college. You’ve only talked for a couple of times since he’s a mutual friend through Changbin but never really got the chance to get to know him because you’re extremely awkward when it comes to an authentic, in real life conversation. You’re also not the type to fall for someone twice but Chan looks really good tonight.

So your heart says otherwise. 

two.

Not thoughts. Head empty. Just Chan. 

Kim Woojin just has to have you and Chan sitting at the same table. Now he’s barely eight feet away and you’re already feeling the need to take a breather. You practically lost your feelings for him in the middle of your senior year because of the overloading amount of work and because you never mustered enough courage to ask for his number. But he’s currently right in front of you, too busy all smiling and laughing at Changbin’s dumb jokes to notice the mini mental debate that’s happening inside your head. 

Chan has never appealed to you as much of a fashionista like Hyunjin because in college, he usually showed up with long-sleeved shirts, shorts and caps. Black all the way from head to toe. But now you’re starting to wonder if Hyunjin got his good taste from Chan because he can effortlessly pulls off a simple black suit and steals your heart with ease. 

He’s wearing a one button suit with notch lapel, giving it a formal yet smart, casual look without overdressing. His white dress shirt is tucked inside his slacks neatly, hugging his body perfectly, and you know that he still takes good care of himself by the crispness of the cuffs. The matte finish of the black fabric makes the whole look that much more expensive with minimal effort. In which, makes your navy blazer over a silky black shirt, and matching pants extremely pale in comparison. Your black heels are also digging into your feet and you’re starting to regret the amount of money that you’ve spent on them. 

You’re looking like you’re about to attend a meeting while Chan looks like he’s next on the red carpet for some award show. Oh the things you do to plan out your best friend’s wedding. You just can never imagine yourself frantically running from one place to another in a cocktail dress or a full-on gown. Not even in the next life. 

“Christ, I miss my flats.” You wince slightly when the stilettos dig into the back of your feet, outstretching red marks across your skin when you try to sit down. Long story short, someone messed up the entire menu the day right before the wedding and nobody noticed it until you walked into the kitchen fifteen minutes ago for a last-minute checkup. So you’re obligated to spend another ten minutes trying to figure things out while having Jisung entertain everyone by a spicy session of the Pocky Game. Classic. 

Seungmin frowns. “Just go bare-footed, the floor is decently clean. This place is a five-starred restaurant after all.” He gently helps you remove the undeniably uncomfortable shoes, tossing them under the table not long after. Your feet finally stop yelling at you for the first time since the past hours and you too, think that it was the wisest decision you’ve made tonight. 

“Thanks Min, I really should have just said ‘fuck heels’ and gone with boots instead.” You smile weakly at your friend, feeling drained from the amount of work that you’ve put into Woojin’s wedding. Although weddings are still considered annoying in your eyes but Woojin has been there for you through every ups and downs. He’s the person who’d picked you up from really shitty parties and also the only one who’d cooked you hangover soup plenty of times because you just can’t accept how low your alcohol tolerance is for your own good. 

Speaking of which, your best friend creeps up from behind you out of nowhere and almost gives you a cardiac arrest. “How does it feel to eye-fuck my best friend in the middle of my wedding who’s also your ex-crush ?” He says and swings an arm around your shoulder. 

You quickly snap out of it, looking at him in disbelief while jolting up from your seat. “I’m not a freaking stalker— and your best friend, what ? Fuck you.” Woojin is usually pretty chill compared to your chaotic group of friends but when he’s in the mood to pester you, you swear to God, he’s louder than Han Jisung and Lee Minho combined. 

“Hmm, it’s about time anyway.” Woojin hums. He’s having that kind of smirk which makes you want to knock the daylight out of him as he angles his wrist to take a closer look at his watch. “Would you guys just kiss already ? Chan’s not coming back for a good year or so. 3racha and their dumb business trips.” This time, the playfulness in his voice disappears and a glint of sadness is evident in the corner of his eye. Regardless of how many times they drive each other insane, Woojin could never trade his friendship with Chan for anything else. How could he ? 

But wait, Chan isn’t coming back until the very next year ?

“Who said that our business trips are dumb ?” Someone voices from behind you. 

In that moment, when you turn around and see his beautiful face, you quickly come to a conclusion that this is rocket science. Talking to your crush is so fucking complicated you wish that they taught you this in school. Like okay, you know that a thermite reaction is basically what happens when metal burns. And if you perform it on a block of ice, you end up with a spectacular explosion. But still, there’s no spark in your dry ass love life. 

“Oh, hey Chan—“ You attempt to turn on your heels to meet his eyes but your feet fail you for the tenth time of the night, and gravity is apparently a bitch, which means you fall forward onto something which means you’re now on top of Chan which means he’s being crushed underneath your weight consider all you’ve been eating are donuts for breakfast and lunch while skipping dinner for the past few weeks.  

Chan flutters his eyes open, watching how heat slowly flares across your cheeks with mild interest. “Hey,” He grins, both dimples are fully on display. “Long time no see.” 

“Oh my god, Chan ! I’m so sorry !” You frantically try to get off of him and offer him a hand to stand up straight. You’ve officially entered panic mode when he grabs your hand firmly enough to lift himself up again. His touch feels absolutely magical because his hand perfectly envelopes your smaller one with ease. As if it’s personally mold by whatever god up there to interlock with yours. 

Chan laughs at your flustered state, giving your hand a squeeze in reassurance before slipping his fingers out of yours completely. “It’s fine, but shit, how much did you drink ?” 

Needless to say, you miss his touch. 

three.

Ryujin deadpans. “Kiss-him-already.” Your roommate proceeds to kick your foot from under the table when she sees Chan excusing himself from the table. 

Shin Ryujin don’t have to own the eyes of a legit eagle to see right through your nervous chuckles and the small glances that you keep throwing at Chan throughout dinner. It’s a pain in the ass to witness ‘awkward middle school Y/N’ all over again but at least she’d have something to post on her story in return. 

You let out a barely audible groan because she is in fact, being so fucking obvious. Like hello ? Chan’s not blind, nor deaf and not to mention, he has a whole group of idiotic friends who have their phones out at all time to record any juicy moments during special occasions. Especially when it’s Woojin’s wedding. 

But when you actually think about it, you’d definitely kick yourself too. Just thirty minutes ago, you had the perfect chance to strike a decent conversation with him yet your brain decided to have you chicken out of the situation instead. Everything was perfect to the T, the settings, the way that he smiles at you, the way that your heart picks up the pace just for him. But you indeed have to fuck up by blurting out the most pathetic little “I gotta go, the restaurant manager just texted me” to ever exist. 

“Ryujin, I don’t think that’s how you help.” Jeongin supplies unhelpfully over a mouthful of crème brûlée, a desert dish that he can’t even pronounce properly. He swallows the big bite and pops another raspberry into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously. “This entire situation needs to be handled professionally.” He declares as if he’s THE expert. Good gracious, he’s quite the bad boy in highschool but those days are long gone. 

Jeongin leaves his seat and cracks his knuckles dramatically. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Changbin, give me a hand.” He waves Changbin over from the opposite side of the table. “You, me, on a count of three, get Y/N to the balcony for her New Year’s kiss. We better hurry cause we only got ten minutes to squeeze. Three, two, one.” 

“No, no, no, oh my god PUT ME DOWN !”

It’s like every single neuron within the other one hundred million in Changbin’s brain cells is connected to Jeongin’s because before you can even object, the two of them easily shove you through the crowd of people who are swaying their bodies to the slow, sensual melody. When you can breathe normally again, your vision quickly adjusts itself on the surroundings, which is the restaurant rooftop terrace. 

The cozy outdoor space features plenty of potted plants and contemporary furnishings. A sectional is complemented by an outdoor wicker square coffee table and a fabric covered butterfly chair. And there’s Chan, leaning against the black rail while admiring the city’s skyline. Your heart is thumping inside your rib cage so strongly that you can feel it through the veins on the back of your neck. 

“Be subtle.” Jeongin pushes your back as soon as he sees your dreamy expression and he quickly drag Changbin away from the scene before he can even whip out his phone. 

With his back profile facing you, Chan suddenly inquires calmly. “Are you gonna come here by yourself or do I have to hold your hand again ?”

You purse your lips. “Sure mom, I’m coming.” Yeah, real subtle. 

After when you approach Chan and let your forearm dangling in midair from the steel rails, you can’t help but stare at him like a complete dumbass. Moon is lighting up his skin and breaking through his hair, the light embraces him elegantly like a halo of his own, leaving you completely astonished. Although he looks so ethereal in this moment, there’s also something else within his present that makes you a little fuzzy inside. Just like college, but stronger, more profound. 

“How come you never asked for my number back then ?” Chan turns sideways and flashes you that boyish grin of his. He must know the effect that he has on you to keep playing with your heart like this. But also what ?

You’re gobsmacked at what he said, eyes as wide as a goldfish’s. “I didn’t even— how did you know ? It’s because of Jisung, isn’t it— my fucking God.” Words spill out from your lips one after another as if you've totally lost control of your own senses. When you’re able to finally snap it close, you also realize that too much has been said. All of your embarrassing moments were probably foiled right under your nose because Changbin and Jisung are two little big-mouthed shitheads. 

Chan just laughs wholeheartedly because he’s secretly a sadist who loves to see you being a blushing mess. “I really should have just made the first move, huh ?” When you give him a confused look, he just sighs and takes out his phone. He goes straight into his contact list and shows you the screen with your name and number displayed on it. “Lix slid your number into my locket during your sophomore year, you’re quite clueless too because he clearly didn’t know how to hide secrets back then.”

“You had my number this whole time ?!” You exclaim rather loudly, mentally debating whether you should hug Lee Felix or throw him into a tank full of sharks. “Then how come you never gave me a call ?” A smile unknowingly outstretches on your lips when you find out that you’re not the only one who has been hesitating for a while. At least now you know that the feelings aren’t necessarily not mutual. 

This time, it’s Chan’s turn to blush. In which you think he’s too cute when his pale cheeks are replaced by a coral shade of red. You start to wonder what it feels like to caress them with the tips of your fingers, to trace along his jaw and to run your hand through his locks of hair. And before he slips his phone back into his pocket, you catch a glimpse of his lock screen - a picture of Berry with the time displayed above her head [11:57p.m.].

Three minutes until 2020. 

“Never got the courage to.” He confesses timidly. “I really thought that you wanted to ignore me for a second there. You know, the whole ‘the restaurant manager just texted me’ and you were avoiding my eyes. Not gonna lie Y/N, that shit stings.” 

You roll your eyes at him. “FYI Christopher, it is scientifically proven that when a guy likes a girl, he looks straight into her eyes but when a girl has feelings for a guy, she simply looks away.” Despite the fact that you sound like a nerd, Chan still laughs it off since he’s a bit out of it because of the margarita that he downed about an hour ago. The alcohol really has to kick it right now, not before, not later, right-now. 

Two minutes. Time is ticking. The decade is ending. 

This is one of those moments where you wish time would just stop for a second because you’re already having too much on your mind yet too little time. The fact that Chan is looking at you with his dark brown eyes, full of liveliness and all, does not help to cope with the situation either. 

He smiles sadly. “Y/N, I’m not coming back to Seoul until next year’s January.” 

“I know,” You interrupts him awkwardly. “Woojin told me.”

“Do you want me not to—“

“Christ no ! Why would I ?”

God, how do people do this ? Do they just go for it ? No one told you that snatching yourself a kiss would be this hard. You really should have planned everything out first. “Chan, I—“ You blurt but mentally facepalm yourself not longer after. It’s not gonna work out anyway. “Whatever, I’ll just head back inside, it’s freezing out here.” 

One minute. Only sixty seconds left. 

Those words which left your lips ten seconds ago finally knock some sense into Chan and have his eyes twice as big as before when you suddenly walk away. He instinctively grabs your wrist and turns you around. Nothing seems to make sense anymore when all you feel is Chan’s hand holding onto your waist as if you’re gonna disintegrate into dust the moment he lets you go. His other hand gently caresses your chin and quickly decreases the gap between your lips. 

Shivers bubble up on your skin as Chan’s mouth repeatedly brushes against yours, backing you up against the wall. All you can do to deal with the mess running through your mind at the speed of light is to lay your palms onto his firm chest for dear life. The feeling of his soft lips makes you feel like you’ve just spent the whole night by the bar where Minho is mixing up some sketchy looking drinks with you chugging from one glass to another without hesitation. Undeniably intoxicating. 

Chan smiles into the kiss when you suddenly grab a fistful of his tie to pull him in closer, deepening you both into the downward spiral full of tenderness and devotion. Although he’s not your first kiss but Chan will definitely be on your mind all day all night for the next few weeks because this kiss is the kind of kiss that leaves you a bit lightheaded but can put a dumb, lovestruck smile on your face anytime. 

A small ‘clank’ occurs out of nowhere, making you two flinch. When you break away from the kiss, Jisung is standing there in front of the glass door dumbfoundedly with a can of Coke lying on the concrete floor. “Uhm- sorry. I didn’t know that the rooftop is already taken.” He coughs awkwardly and picks up the red aluminum can. 

Woojin isn’t allowing a single drop of alcohol inside his body since he’s the chosen one tonight to drive everyone home after when they all get shitfaced. “Just so you guys know… we’re having cake. It’s— it’s confetti by the way Y/N, your favorite. So.. uhm yeah.. come back whenever you guys are ready— we’ll just— just wait haha, okay bye.” 

And that is how Han Jisung learnt how to run. As if he’s Usain Bolt before Usain Bolt was even Usain Bolt. You’ve never seen him running away from something so fast before. He’s not gonna get a good sleep tonight, that’s for sure. 

“So…” Chan drawls and you love how his cheeks are still tinted pink, his cool breath fanning your forehead. Fireworks are crackling and whistling in the background, painting the sky with different shades of glitter. Like an explosion of paint on a black canvas but you can’t care less when you already have him by your side like this. Talking about kicking off the New Year by kissing your ex-crush, how drama material. 

“Do you still want my number or nah ?” 

You almost scoff at him. “I believe that’s not how CB97 get all the girls.” 

Chan grunt softly before pulling you into his embrace, nuzzling his nose into your hair. “Ugh, don’t even remind me. I’ve been clowned enough for ‘Wow’ already.” And you just stand there with your hands clasped onto his back, letting every single word, every single moment sink into you like you’re rewatching an old movie. That’s also when you realize that, you just got yourself a New Year’s kiss. 

“I’ll miss you, Chan.” You whisper into his ear, teary-eyed. 

“Well, you know what they say : Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He replies like the exceptional composer that he is, holding onto you firmly. Just firmly enough because he wants to hold you like you’re a single snowflake, threatening to disappear if he accidentally squeezes too tightly, but will easily slip away if he doesn’t hold you back. Chan might not know what the future has in store for him but he knows that everything will turn out just fine as long as you’re right here, in his embrace. 

Nothing matters when he has both of his hands clenched and remains still in your heart. 

four.

[ 3:25a.m. ] 

shrek | take care :pp I hate you.

quokka | I’ll give you half of my salary when I get back so please don’t kill me for dropping your favorite mug =)))

Another thing school has yet succeeded in teaching you : how to not be late to literally every single important moment in your goddamn life. 

It’s barely forty-five minutes before the flight and you’re THIS close to having a mental breakdown because Chan is actually horrible. Yeah, you kissed him three hours ago and he’s just gonna repay you by booking a flight at three in the morning ? His friends aren’t the best either, really. If Jisung didn’t text you on when you’re brushing your teeth then you would have curled up in your blanket and dozed off. 

2020 just arrived and everyone’s already gone wild with their schedules for trips and vacations. Even from the inside of your car, you can still hear people cursing at one another from across the street and be able to bathe in the smell of smoke and gasoline shit. You scrunch your nose at the particular ways someone people prefer to park their cars and carefully park yours neatly in the corner. It’s definitely gonna take some time when you go back to get your car. 

Just when you frantically grab your keys and phone your purse before stepping out of the vehicle, you quickly realize that there’s absolutely no need for you to show up. Chan didn’t ask for it, Jisung and Changbin didn’t even ask for it, they just simply wanted to ‘notify’ you about their departure. But there’s still something that’s stirring inside your stomach, which makes it even harder to concentrate while driving. 

So you’re determined to find out what that is before he leaves. 

And that is also why you’ve chosen to push yourself through the sweaty lines of people queuing up for security, luggage check-in, shopping, and other boring paperwork. Everyone is obviously a bit ticked off since business in airport is slower than a sloth when it comes to holidays. If you were them, you would have just taken a nap on one of the spare benches while waiting for your flight. But the problem is : there’s no empty seats. There are literal people using their jackets as a mattress to sleep on the floor that janitors clean up one two many times with bleach. How tragic. 

Besides, it’s been forever since you’ve come to the airport and now you feel like a fucking caveman, just watching the bustling, noisy life passing by with wide eyes. Meaning, you have no fucking idea where their gate is, but you do know that if you’re stubborn enough to have a five-minute staring contest with the map, you’ll figure it out. Hopefully. 

After ten minutes of struggling with the map in your hands that’s getting kind of damped from your sweaty palms, you eventually spend another five minutes to race yourself through the packed airport to get to Gate 9 before the plane takes off. 

You feel like you really should treat yourself afterwards since running through the airport brings you back to the marathon competition in middle school, the only difference is that it’s ten times more exhausting and time consuming. Changbin better gives you what ever the fuck of a healthy juice and aloe vera sheetmasks that he stores in packs of four inside his carry-on because you’re 80% sure that you look like a strip beef jerky that’s been staying in the oven for way too long. 

[ 3:40a.m. ]

y/n | where tf are you guys ?

Just when you finish texting Changbin, you spot Chan in front of a vending machine, struggling with a wallet, and three other water bottles in his arms. And you start pondering how people still think that God is fair and rightful. How is he so fair when he can make Chan look like a freaking celebrity in a simple white dress shirt with black jeans while you’re looking like a raccoon in your denim jacket and leggings ? How is he so rightful when all it takes Chan is one single glance to send your heartbeat over the edges ? But whatever, fuck that. You’re just gonna be slightly salty about Chan looking better than you all the time. Slightly, that is. 

Nonetheless, he makes you smile like no other. “Chan !” You call out his name like a maniac, running towards him with no hesitation. Because he’s it, he’s your endgame, and you want to know what it feels like to hold him for the last time before he’s gonna be seven thousand miles away from you for a good three hundred and sixty-five days. 

Chan widens his eyes out of surprise when you crash yourself into his embrace, knocking the water bottles onto the tiled floor along with his wallet. Though, he soon regains conscious when his nostrils are filled with your scent, his arms shaking around your waist like second nature. He suddenly smiles brightly, and genuinely in a fairly long time. That alone is enough to prove that you’re the only one who’s capable of making him feel loved. 

Chan buries his face into the crook of your neck. “Are you here to ask for my number ?” 

“Right, that.” Your mouth forms an ‘o’ in realization. “And.. and… I- I love you, okay ?” 

The grin on his face just can’t get any wider now or else his mouth is gonna crack and bleed tremendously. “What was that ?” 

“I’m not saying that twice !”

“No, tell me !”

Truthfully, love isn’t just about the horrifying commitment or the metal band wrapped around your ring finger. Love is the persistency in accompanying, offering a shoulder for someone to lean on, so they can be free from reframing themselves in order to not be frowned upon by society. Meaning, they can let go of their pride during hard times, just bursting into tears like a child. The burden is shared and lifted slightly from their shoulders and that’s how love adds a bit of sweetness into reality.

In fact, movies are realistically based on real life, it’s just that everything’s filtered to be picture perfect because humans only see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. In reality, there’s no certainty that someone will be there to pick you up nor life will leave you alone when you’ve had enough. You won’t even have the slightest chance to look upon the sky and let your tears pour back into your heart, crying is impossible. No, actually, the world is nice, but reality is disastrous so it is your birthright to be terrified of the smallest things. May time be against you, may reality kick you to the curb, may the whole world have their backs turn onto you, you can still hold onto a fragile beam of hope that the entire universe is on your side because you couldn’t have asked for a better person to walk into your life than Chan.

And to him, you’re gonna worth every mile between you both.

❖ p/s : pt.2 is out now!

#bang chan #stayshub #stray kids ot9 #stray kids blurbs #stray kids au #chan fic #stray kids fanfic #stay #kim woojin #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #kim seungmin #lee felix #yang jeongin #christopher bang #shin ryujin #itzy ryujin

[tsthrace]

What does a girl do when she realizes she needs to cut an entire chapter from her WIP because it doesn’t fit? She posts it to tumblr. 

So yeah, this starts to build a scary world that might look a little too close to our world. It might introduce you to this badass trauma surgeon, Dr. Griffin, who needs to make a quick escape. And then it might leave you hanging. Forever. 

Well, not exactly forever. This is now Clarke’s backstory for my WIP. She’ll resurface years later on a church-turned-farmstead. Guess who’s the priest of this church? So yeah...

Content warning: mention of rape (but no rape itself) and just general hits-too-close-to-home: you know—fascism, totalitarianism, misogyny, toxic masculinity. Oh, and Clarke swears a lot.

It’s angsty. That’s what I do.

3,260 words. No tagging for Clexa, because Lexa doesn’t come on the scene yet.

It’s also posted over on ao3 if you’d rather read it there.

---

We all thought it couldn’t happen here, even as it was happening here.

Clarke had been running for so long that she wasn’t sure if she was still being chased. She had spent the last six years wandering through parts of Washington she never knew existed. First to an abandoned sawmill a few miles east of Mansford in the mountains. It was a glorified barn, really, but a community of refugees from Seattle had been gathering there, doing their best to patch up the building’s roof and walls. Then, there was still enough gas to transport what they needed if they rationed properly. But they were all adjusting to life without electricity, without phones, without any sense of who they were without those things. 

She was there only three months when word came that a militia had materialized in Darrington and was registering children and looking for doctors and healers. Healers. That’s what they called women with Clarke’s skills. People who had gone to school for 13 years, who had prioritized their craft over their health, their family, their relationships for a grueling residency followed by an only slightly less grueling fellowship. They called men doctors, even if they were less educated, less skilled, and less practiced.

Fuck them. Clarke’s response had become reflexive. It was her internal response when the police came that first night of what some called the Resistance but what the police called the Riots. 

Unrest had been brewing for months, but It was when the President “temporarily” suspended the First Amendment right to assemble that all hell broke loose. Thousands of protestors became tens of thousands, even in small cities like Spokane and Tacoma. Police traded rubber bullets for real ones, patrol cars for tanks, pistols for AK-47s. Dozens of people landed in Clarke’s hospital, some gone before they were taken out of the ambulance, ripped apart by the people sworn to serve and protect them. 

That was the night two officers were trawling the halls of her ward, looking for “resistors” to arrest. 

“They’re unconscious,” Clark said slowly. “They’re sedated because they’re waiting to go into surgery.” She knew it was a bad idea to talk to them like they were kindergartners, but she couldn’t stop herself. What these men were doing was sick. Her patients were here because of them. Some of them filled with bullet holes, their lives barely clinging to them, others with collapsed lungs caused by broken ribs, others with simple fractures who would be out to fight another day. But Clarke wasn’t going to tell these guys that.

“Is there someone else we can talk to?” The officer said. His name badge said Blakely. “Maybe your boss?”

Clarke felt her fingernails digging into her palm. “Officer Blakely—”

“Corporal Blakely.”

Clarke went on as if she didn’t hear him. “I’m the person with the highest seniority here right now. If you’d like me to call the Chief of Surgery...”

Blakely pulled out a pad and pen. “What’s his name?”

“Her name is Dr. Marris.”

Blakely scoffed but wrote down the name.

“Is there a problem?” Clarke bent a little to catch his eye with her glare.

“Not at all.”

After that night, everything changed. The President sent in federal troops. There were tanks outside police precincts, and men in uniform carrying AK-47s stood at every corner in downtown and Capitol Hill. They rode the light rail, searching for enemies and booting out anyone who fell asleep on the trains. Curfews were instituted. Clarke had to have her ID and a letter from the hospital ready after every shift. The same soldiers (or were they cops?) stopped her every night, even after the sixth time when everyone knew everyone’s names. She had written theirs down. Because fuck them.

Two months later, the Seattle PD renamed themselves Washington’s 1st Militia when the President had encouraged all “patriots and protectors of freedom to band together, arm, and fight for American values.” Police departments across the country took this as a rallying call. They traded their police uniforms for military fatigues. They tore off their city badges and replaced them with a thin blue line. Bros before everything else, even democracy. 

They pulled her out of the OR as soon as she wrapped up a craniotomy. It was her third surgery of the day, and her hands were stiff, her scrubs covered in sweat. The two soldiers’ assault rifles startled her, but she’d seen enough gore in her time to know how to keep a straight face. Blakely was back, but this time he was dressed like he was serving in a desert war zone.

“Officer Blakely.” She remembered he was a corporal but fuck him.

The corner of Blakely’s mouth lifted in a sharp smirk. She watched as his eyes glided down her body. “Congratulations, Ms. Griffin, you’ve been recruited to Washington’s First. We are in need of fine healers like yourself.” 

Fuck you. The words raced through her mind, but she kept her mouth shut. She understood by now that those words aloud could do nothing but put her in danger. “How can I be of service?” she asked evenly, looking him straight in the eye. She had heard rumors that the militias were taking medical workers from their hospitals and clinics to set up their own facilities, but she thought they’d only take men for their specialists and surgeons.

“You need to come with us,” Blakely looked down at the sweat stains under her arms.

Clarke didn’t move. “What kind of healers are you looking for?” she asked in her most neutral tone. 

“A variety, ma’am.” Blakely’s jaw stiffened.

A small crowd of the floor’s staff had gathered at the nurses’ station, halfheartedly pretending to work while they watched the interaction.

“Like nurses? There are a lot of nurses here who are much better at their jobs than I would be.” Clarke laughed lightly and glanced at the nurses. “I’d make a terrible nurse.”

A few of the nurses nodded, their eyes smiling because smiling with their lips might bring trouble.

“We already have healers for that kind of work.” Blakely took in a breath and looked around the floor, frustrated. He knew he’d said too much. “Maybe we should go somewhere—”

“Then I can’t possibly think why you’d need me. I’m sure there are doctors who can meet your needs.”

“Ms. Griffin—”

“After all, there are two other trauma surgeons on staff here more suited to your, uh, preferences.” Clarke glanced down at Blakely’s groin.

“I was sent to find you, Ms. Griffin.”

The more he called her “Ms.,” the more her resolve solidified. “I just can’t imagine what anyone would want with little old me.” She covered her voice in maple syrup. “Dr. Lee and Dr. Bancroft are very fine surgeons, very respectable. Dr. Lee graduated top of his class from UW. I’m supervising his fellowship, and he’s very skilled.” Clarke let the words roll like waves along a beach on a calm day. “And Dr. Bancroft is who we call whenever we need a feeding tube done right the first time. His focus on fundamentals is exceptional—”

“They want you,” Blakely said more loudly than he intended.

Say it, she taunted him with a sharp look, though the words that came out were light. “I’ll call Dr. Lee. I’m sure he’d be more suitable to you—”

“Ms. Griffin—”

“You’d rather have Dr. Bancroft? Sorry. I thought you’d want the more skilled surgeon, but to be honest, we do perform a lot more feeding tube placements than major—”

“We know you’re the best.” Blakely growled, giving in. 

Clarke had won, but she still felt empty. “You can’t even call me a doctor.” 

“Protocol.” Blakely refused to look at her. “Come with us, ma’am.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“You can appeal on grounds of pregnancy or motherhood.”

Clarke scoffed. “Of course.” She didn’t even try to hide her disdain, though she knew she had to play along. She looked down at her scrubs. “I need to change.”

“Of course,” Blakely said. His smile was sharp, an insult. “Though we’ll need to supervise.”

Clarke bit down hard. She had not joined the Resistance, but she’d been obsessively keeping track of their Instagram posts at @emeraldcityjustice. Militiamen never raped, she’d learned, especially if the woman was white and of marrying age. They didn’t call it rape, though, they called it “sexual theft.” They were not to spoil another man’s property (or potential property), and that meant no touching. This restriction forced men to get creative, find new ways of dominating without ruining the goods. Resisting, the posts said, meant speaking the militia’s language. 

“But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.” Clarke had memorized some key verses, and she said this one loud enough for everyone around the nursing station to hear it. “Matthew 5:28. I think those are words in red. You know, Jesus. The son of God himself.” She would not let these fuckers anywhere near her. 

Blakely squinted and his face turned to stone.

“The locker room is on the second floor,” she said. “You two are welcome to wait outside the door, if you like.” Clarke strode towards the elevator. Blakely glared at her a few moments before nodding at his partner. They followed her into the elevator. Clarke looked at her watch. 10:15 p.m. Shift change. The locker room would be packed. 

“We need to sweep,” Blakely said as they stepped off the elevator and approached the locker room door.

Clarke sighed loudly. There was no use in arguing. Blakely nodded towards the key swipe. Clarke swiped her badge and a little red light on the handle turned green. Blakely opened the door then turned conspicuously so that his back was facing the opening.

“This is Corporal Blakely of Washington’s First Militia,” he shouted into the room. The volume of his voice made Clarke jump. “Private Cooks and I will be doing a sweep of this locker room in two minutes. Those who are not appropriately covered at that time will be taken into custody.” Blakely let the door close behind him and set a timer on his Apple watch.

Are you fucking kidding me? Clarke didn’t say out loud.

Five minutes later, Blakely and Cooks were back out in the hallway. Clarke knew they wouldn’t find anything. The locker room was a windowless space that was mostly concrete and tile. It had one exit, a fire hazard long ignored because that part of the hospital had been built 140 years ago. The only other door was a closet full of cleaning supplies.

Blakely nodded at Clarke to go inside. 

“You have five minutes,” he said, fiddling with his watch again.

“I’d like to shower.”

“Four minutes and fifty-seven seconds. If you don’t come out on time, we will come in.”

Clarke swallowed and pushed through the door. Dozens of annoyed eyes lifted as she walked in. She just shook her head as she walked past them. 

Because it was an old hospital, doctors—female doctors, even surgeons—shared the locker room with nurse supervisors, charge nurses and other medical staff who had seniority. (Male doctors, especially surgeons, did not share a locker room with anyone, of course.) It bothered Clarke on principle, but for the most part she liked being around the non-doctor staff, and it didn’t hurt to have a friendly relationship with the nurses when she was on the floors. 

The women’s eyes quickly went back to their tasks of leaving. Between the unrest and a new virus no one seemed to know anything about, the hospital, which was already under-resourced, had been over capacity for weeks now. Everyone was tired, stressed, and getting more and more afraid. They just wanted to get home as soon as possible. The later at night, the more aggressive the patrols got. 

Clarke walked to her locker and took a few deep breaths as she quickly spun the lock to its numbers and pulled it open. She took off her white coat and hung it on the hanger inside. She pulled out her backpack and checked that her phone charger was inside. She pulled her wallet out and stared at her driver’s license for a long moment, not sure if it would be a liability. She decided to bring it, along with her curfew papers, and a used copy of The Obelisk Gate she’d picked up from Horizon Books a few weeks ago but never opened. Next, she stuffed her street clothes inside along with two sets of clean scrubs (only later would she wonder why she took the scrubs). Finally, she grabbed the two boxes of protein bars and four bottles of Gatorade that she kept there to keep her energy up on long shifts.

Clarke almost laughed at how much could fit in her small backpack. 

She looked at her watch. Three minutes left. Shit. She almost forgot to switch watches. She pulled off the little cheap thing she used at the hospital and replaced it with her dad’s chunky but sleek metal piece. It was heavy on her wrist, but that’s what she liked about it. Somehow she felt safer with it on.

She swallowed. She needed to move, but to move meant everything would be different. She threw her shoulders back, lifted her hands in front of her, palms up as if making an offering, and took in a deep breath. It’s what she did whenever she was about to make a first cut. She closed her eyes, felt the ground solid under her feet, felt her heart slow to steady saunter. 

Clarke smiled to herself. It was a heavy smile, sad and defiant. Fuck them.

She grabbed her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and walked to the broom closet.

“You alright, Dr. Griffin?” A voice rang out. Veró, the charge nurse from the post-op wing, looked up as Clarke was about to go inside. Her eyes were nervous.

“I will be,” Clarke replied as she closed the door. “Take good care of yourself, Veró. Be safe. You didn’t see me, okay?”

Veró nodded. “You stay safe, Clarke.” She closed her eyes for a long moment. Her smile was heavy with concern. “I didn’t see nothing.” 

Clarke held Veró’s eyes for a long moment, then nodded, stepped into the closet, and closed the door behind her. It was a small space, but large enough for two people to fit—a fact Clarke had exploited with Lu, a nurse from the Telemetry unit, several times. There was a small, dirty, pointless window at the top of the closet that she and Lu had covered with a tray from the cafeteria so that the janitors in their breakroom across the alley couldn’t watch them taking their break. During the day, thin streaks of light leaked in around the edges. Clarke was grateful it was so late and that the alley outside got so little light. The metal shelving served as the perfect ladder, sturdy and wide. She disrupted the toilet paper and big bottles of cleaner as she climbed, leaving hints of her escape, but there was nothing to be done about it. The top shelf was blessedly empty, too high up to be useful.

She pulled the tray out of the way to reveal a window that was smaller than she expected. She turned a small latch and pushed the window. It didn’t budge. She pushed it again, harder this time, though she didn’t have much leverage. Nothing happened. The shelf wobbled minutely under her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It held steady as she gingerly pulled her full body onto the top shelf. She barely fit up there. She checked her watch. She maybe had a minute. Probably less. Clarke hit the base of the window with the flat of her palm. Nothing. She hit it again. Still nothing. She took a breath and closed her eyes. 

Please.

She hit it again and heard a tiny scrape. One more push, and the window swung open with an achy shriek. It might have been shut for decades. Clarke was lucky. The drop from the second floor window to the sidewalk was short. The alley swept upwards from 9th Ave., ending at the top with the fifth floor’s windows being at street level. 

She was out, and she had no idea what to do. By now, Blakely and Cooks would have noticed that she hadn’t come out. Maybe they’d give her another minute. She remembered the Apple watch. 

Her mind churned and tumbled. She had opened holes in skulls with drills and saws. She had cracked ribs to expose hearts that stopped beating in front of her eyes. But now, on this warm summer night on an empty sidewalk, she didn’t know what to do. So she ran. The hospital was a mess of old buildings connected by narrow alleys—easy to get lost. But Clarke had done her residency and fellowship here—spent nearly a quarter of her life here—and while she didn’t know the alleys, she knew the buildings, recognized the skyways above linking everything together. She slid from shadow to shadow in the direction of the interstate. It was an intuitive decision, the way she knew exactly where to find the bleeding in surgery. 

She kept moving, the rolling rumble of the highway getting closer. Finally, she found herself at the parking garage and knew exactly where to go. She walked calmly through the first level reserved for people going to the ED. She was careful to avoid the security booth where Mitch would be. He was a good guy, and Clarke didn’t want to bring him any trouble. She moved quickly towards an emergency exit which brought her to a fire escape facing the interstate. During her first year as resident, she and Dr. Salem used to meet there to smoke a joint after a 30-hour shift. 

She paused. Think. She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. Her breath caught when she came across her mom’s contact. You could have called, she could already hear her saying. We would have figured it out. Even if there was enough time for her mom to get from Whidbey Island to the city—and there wasn’t—it wouldn’t be safe. Anyone she called could be implicated and punished. Unless she chose to crawl back into the hospital, she was now an RRL, a Resistor of the Rule of Law.

This is moment everything changes. The thought cracked across her mind like lightning and disappeared just as fast. The thunder would roll on for years and years.

She closed her contacts and opened Instagram instead. She went to the @emeraldcityjustice profile. Her grin was grim as she hit the Message button. How ridiculous this world had become.

“Canada or the mountains?”

“What?” Clarke shook herself out of a haze. The driver hadn’t spoken since he picked her up from a dark corner under the interstate where @emeraldcityjustice had told her to go. They immediately turned east over the lake to Bellevue.

“You’ll have to decide at the drop point in Everett,” the driver went on. “They can either get you on a ferry to Canada or you can head to a refugee community in the mountains.” He glanced over his shoulder to the back seat where she was lying down to avoid facial recognition cameras on the interstate. “Do you want to escape or do you want to fight?”

THE END. THAT’S IT. I’M SORRY.

#the 100 fanfiction #clarke griffin #WIP backstory #clexa fic backstory #action

[staticscreenwriting]

All you have to be is here - Part 10

Synopsis: Billy has fucked up and has to do 60 days of community service at a home for troubled kids and youth. Working with the kids there makes him learn a lot about himself. Also there’s a girl there his age who has a phenomenal smile and who is way too nice to him.

I guess I should mention there’s a lot of angst in this. Talk of substance abuse later on, physical abuse, emotional abuse. All that kind of gnarly real life stuff. It deals with kids and teens struggling with a a shitty family life so be aware of that.

Part 10 of ?

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9

Please help a girl out by reblogging. Thank you ♥

Attention ! If you wanna be tagged pls send me a message or an ask it’s easier and faster for me than going through the tags of each part every time. Thank you :)

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

I never really ever felt so adored before Never really ever felt this type of vulnerable Don’t have to hide, don’t have to fear All you have to be is here Never really ever felt so adored before And I said I wanna feel like this forever Even if forever’s just for now We’re on fire, let us burn As the outside world, it turns We are here and alive In our corner of time Forevermore

People always talk about the calm before the storm, the one pregnant with a tragedy yet to come. No one ever talks about the calm afterwards.

It’s almost midnight and Billy is slumped down on his bed, face pressed into his pillow, as the Hargrove household is being overtaken by an awful silence. Just a few minutes earlier his dad’s voice has been reverberating off the walls, echoing through every room. Now it’s quiet. Eerily so.

He remembers the days back in California, back when mom was still living with them. The yelling and the crying was bad but at least it meant she was still able to fight. The quiet was the worst. The quiet allows your mind to wander to all kinds of dark places and really see the situation for how fucked up it is. The quiet makes your mind conjure up the worst of make believe scenarios. 

The quiet is unforgiving and scary. 

Susan, unlike his mom, isn’t someone who fights back either. There’s mostly silence with her. Always this god awful silence.

Billy tries to bury his head further into the pillow. Maybe if he falls asleep at least his dreams will let him forget about — all of it.

It’s been two whole days since he’s seen (Y/N). Two whole days since he’s been to HHTCY. He’s called in sick but he’s pretty sure they know he’s lying. She definitely does.

It’s been two days since he’s talked to his mom over the phone. 

As his mind is about to wander to places he so desperately wants to forget, the phone on his bedside table starts ringing. 

“ Hello ? “ Billy’s voice is hoarse and deep and laced with the sleep he’s so desperately waiting for.

“ Billy, hey. It’s Tommy. “ 

Why the hell is Tommy calling him at this time of the night. Tommy never calls. Especially not at times like these. Billy swears if this has anything to do with him being dumped by Carol again he’s gonna freak out. It’s way too late, or early depending on how you see it, to care about that shit. And it’s not like he cares any other time of the day.

“ I was sleeping you asshole. Why the fuck are you calling me ? “ 

He wasn’t sleeping. In fact he wishes he was. But lately, as of exactly two days ago, his mind is too loud to go to sleep. Too busy. There’s too many what ifs floating around in his head.

Sleep doesn’t come easy at the moment.

“ Billy, man I’m at Tracy’s and I really think you should come. “ 

“ Tommy I told you I’m not going to Tracy Mitchell’s dumbass party. It’s all just rich kids being pretentious assholes. Also it’s in the middle of fucking nowh— “ 

“ Nah man, you don’t get it.  (Y/N) is here and she’s fucked up, dude. Like the kind of fucked up where she’s about to make some really bad decisions soon. “ 

At the mention of her name Billy sits up in his bed and combs a hand through his hair in frustration. This isn’t his mess to fix. Not anymore. Not after what she’s said to him the other day. He should just tell Tommy to fuck off and then go back to sleep, or at least try to go back to sleep.

That’s what he should be doing.

Despite it all though, it’s not what he does. Despite it all he finds himself pulling on his jeans and boots as Tommy waits for a reply.

It’s not his mess but despite it all, Billy cares anyway. And maybe that’s one of the great tragedies in life. That sometimes you still care for people even though they hurt you. Even though they break your heart. 

He wishes he could just switch it off and be indifferent towards her, thought that’s not how it works. It didn’t work like that with his mom and it’s not gonna work like that with (Y/N).

“ Hey man, I’m sorry. I didn’t wanna wake you. I just thought — “ Tommy speaks up again and for the first time Billy starts really appreciating Tommy for who he is. A good dude. Sure he’s an absolute idiot but he’s an alright guy when push comes to shove. 

“ No I — it’s alright. I’ll come by. Thank for uh — ya know. Thanks. “ 

“ Sure thing. “ 

Billy sneaks out of his room and out the front door. By now he knows exactly which floorboards to avoid, which one’s creak the loudest. He wishes he didn’t have to know. 

Alas, Billy Hargrove’s wishes don’t usually come true and that’s something he’s come to terms with a long time ago.

If it all wasn’t so fucking absurd, Billy would’ve laughed at the scene that greets him once he arrives at Tracy’s house in the middle of nowhere. Sheltered between pine trees and pumpkin patches.

(Y/N) stands in the middle of the living room, right on top of the couch table. She’s wearing a blue sundress that’s definitely too cold for the current temperatures but makes her look gorgeous either way. There’s a red solo cup clutched in her hand that loses more and more of it’s content with every move and every sway (Y/N) does. 

She’s loudly singing along to the music and when usually she’s put the original singer to shame, now it’s way off key. There’s no doubt in Billy’s mind that she’s positively sloshed.

What he realises when he comes closer though, is that as well as looking drunk, she looks absolutely exhausted. And for a moment that idea gives him a little bit of satisfaction. The idea that it hurt herself too. That she too has trouble sleeping.

It’s not a nice thing to think, to find joy in, but Billy never said he was a nice guy. 

Though that sentiment vanishes as soon as his eyes meet hers and he can see just how sad they look. There’s no warmth there anymore. She just looks so — hurt. And that doesn’t give him any kind of sick satisfaction anymore. It just makes him sad. He never wants to hurt her ever. Not even when she’s hurt him first. 

“ Billy !” (Y/N) exclaims, throwing her arms up in celebration before hopping off the table and flinging her arms around his neck.

“ I didn’t know you were — I thought you — I didn’t — Hi. “ 

Her words are a drunk jumbled mess and she smells like alcohol and sweat. If this was any other person, any other girl, Billy would’ve never come. 

She’s not though. She’s (Y/N). She’s his girl.

“ C’mon let’s go home. “

“ Why do you wanna go home ? “ she pouts “ It’s fun. “ 

“ Fun’s over. Let’s go. Trust me , you’re gonna thank me tomorrow. “ 

For a brief second Billy’s mind wander towards all the parties he’s been to in the past. All the times he’s drank way too much. All those bad decisions he’s made.

And he realises that he’s never had anyone there to look out for him. Never.

“ Are you mad at me ? “ she asks, voice timid. Like a child.

Yes. He’s absolutely mad at her. So mad that it takes over his entire system. So mad that every waking minute is spent wondering if this is a sick way for karma to come bite him in the ass. That once he’s got a good thing in his life it gets taken from him again.

He’s mad at her but not because of tonight.

“ It’s okay, let’s just go. “ he murmures and tries to stir her towards the front door.

“ I didn’t even mean to drink so much, I promise. I was just so sad and — “ 

“ I said, It’s okay. Let’s go (Y/N) “ 

“ Aw come on “ a voice calls from behind them and as he turns around Billy comes face to face with Keith fuckin Kinsella.

The way he’s looking at them makes Billy’s blood boil. There’s a sense of superiority in his eyes, a teasing smirk on his lips. This dude is a culmination of all things Billy despises about other people. He’s arrogant and pretentious and — just a mean fucking asshole really.

“ She can’t leave yet. It’s only just starting to become fun. “ 

God, how much he wants to punch this guy in the face. Ruin his perfectly straight nose. He can’t though. At least not right now, not tonight. There’s a girl he needs to bring home safely. 

“ You should better keep your mouth shut, Kinsella. Or I’ll shut it for you next time I see you. I’m sure your old man paid a fortune for those white chompers of yours, would be a shame if anything were to happen huh ? “ 

“ You threatening me ? “ 

“ Yeah I fucking am. I’d take it seriously if I were you. “ 

“ Alright, white trash. Whatever you say. Have fun taking her home, she’s a real mess. As always.” 

Billy completely ignores the words thrown at him, though hearing Keith talk bad about (Y/N) makes him indescribably angry. 

He looks down at the girl holding onto his arm, swaying from the alcohol cursing through her system and looking up at him with her big sad eyes. 

Keith is gonna get what’s coming for him sooner or later. Though tonight is not the time or place for it.

Not tonight, Billy.

Not here, Billy.

So he throws his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulder and them both step into the night. Hearts heavy. Half drunk on vodka and heartbreak. 

That one song is playing on the radio as they drive along the dark Hawkins Streets. That “only you” song. Billy remembers one of the first times he’s stayed over at her place. He remembers her singing this song and taking off her makeup. 

He thinks he might’ve been in love with her even back then. 

“ I’m sorry “ (Y/N) mumbles next to him, her eyes focused on the rain falling outside.

“ Don’t .” This is neither the time nor place to talk about the elephant in the room. Not when she’s drunk. Not when he’s still angry.

“ But I gotta say sorry. “ 

“ Yeah. You can. Once you’ve sobered up. “ 

“ Am I gonna have a chance ? “ 

“ Huh ? “ 

“ To say sorry. Are you gonna listen ? “ 

As if there was ever a chance of him not listening. To her ? Always.

Maybe, Billy thinks, maybe caring about someone, loving someone, maybe it comes with the undeniable and uncomfortable fact that sometimes you gotta forgive them. And if not that, you at least have to give them a chance to say sorry.

He also wonders if those things also count for a mother, one that’s left her son in a home she knew wasn’t safe. He wonders if forgiveness is something he can grant her.

“ ‘m always gonna listen to you. “

She’s quiet for a moment but even though he’s looking out onto the street and not at her, Billy can sense her unease. Can sense there’s something she desperately wants to say but is hesitant to do so. 

“ Billy “ she speaks up, words still slurred but there’s something else now. Some edge. Some kind of anxious tint to her voice.

“ Hm ? “ 

“ You said, I love you. When we had — when we fought. You said I love you. “ 

His heart almost drops down to his stomach. He remembers saying it but in that moment he wasn’t aware of the gravity those words held. The gravity they still hold. You don’t just let that slip out. It’s — a conscious commitment.

“ Forget about it, (Y/N). It doesn’t matter what I said during a fight.” 

It does though. It matters a great deal. Because he meant every single word of it. The good and the bad. 

“ Oh.” she says and he swears he hear her sniffle a little. “ Well that’s a shame because I love you too. “

He wished so badly that this was another time and another place. That it wasn’t the middle of the night with the rain pouring outside. That she wasn’t drunk and that they weren’t fighting.

Because those words mean everything. He wants to hear them from sober lips and a heart that isn’t hurting.

But god how he wants to hear them again.

“ Billy ? “ 

“ Hmm ? “ 

“ I went to the party with my friend Steph, she has my bag. “ 

“ So ? “

“ My keys are in there. “ 

Sneaking back into his house after a night out is hard enough for Billy Hargrove on his own. With the creaky floorboards and a father that seems to be able to sniff out a misbehaving teenager. Though sneaking back in with a drunk girl in tow is an almost impossible task.

Billy’s never been more grateful about that fact that his room is the first one on the right as soon as you enter the house.

“ You have to be quiet, babe. Alright ? “ 

(Y/N) just lazily nods her head and gives him a tired smile “ I like it when you call me babe. I like it when you’re soft with me. “ 

If he’s being honest with himself, Billy likes that he gets to be soft with her. That he doesn’t have to uphold an image around her, of the cool bad-boy. Of the son that’s an utter disappointment.

With her he can be just Billy. With her he gets to learn and experience who “Billy” even actually is. It’s hard to become your own person when everyone else buries you in expectations. 

He  takes off her dress and puts her in one of his shirts. This is the first time he’s ever had a girl stay over without anything sexual being involved. 

As she flops down on his bed, tired eyes still focused on him, Billy thinks that despite it all, this looks right. It feels right. Having her close. Her smile and her warmth and — her.

Getting out of his jeans, Billy settles down under the duvet next to her and just looks at her for a moment. Everything that’s good in his life is right here next to him. In his bed wearing his clothes and she loves him.

Drunk or not the words have been said and they mean everything. Everything.

“ Billy ?” (Y/N)’s groggy voice speaks up again, pulling him from his thoughts.

“ Hm ? “ 

“ I’m sorry. None of what I said I meant. I was just — so so sad. I really believed it was gonna be different this time. That he had finally changed. I just wanted to believe my dad loves me again. That he can be my dad again. I never wanted to hurt you though. Never.“ 

She’s crying, big tears running down her cheeks. 

He can’t help himself. His heart still hurts whenever he thinks back to the words she spit at him that night but he needs to hold his girl. Maybe sometimes you’re so hurt, that you hurt the ones you love in order to deal with the pain. 

Either way, all he wants is to hold her and so he does. Holds her close and lets her cry into his shirt as she rests her head there. Right above his heart. Just where she belongs.

“ I love you. “ he murmures into her hair before he places a kiss there. 

He doesn’t know if she’s heard. It doesn’t really matter anyway though because he plans on saying it more often. As much as she wants to hear it . No matter how much those words scare him, they feel so right. So undeniably connected to the person he’s slowly becoming.

In the grand scheme of things, mornings are a quite insignificant part of life.

Billy is sure though, that this morning is one he’s not gonna forget ever. Because as he wakes up he’s greeted by his girl resting on his chest, just the way she fell asleep. The rising sun is casting golden speck of light onto her skin and there’s a tiny smile playing on her lips. So small it’s hardly noticeable. But Billy notices it anyway.

She scrunches up her nose as Billy traces little shapes on her skin, then slowly opens her eyes and looks up at him. The warmth is back with full force and engulfs him entirely. He could get lost in her eyes forever. 

“ Good morning. “ He says and combs a streak of her off of her face. 

“ Morning. “ she replies then places a soft kiss on his chest “ I like when you smile at me first thing in the morning. “ 

Again his heart flutters at her words. It’s hella cheesy to say these things but who is he to deny himself of the simple pleasures in life ? Indulging in the love his girl is willing to give to him.

“ How are you feeling ? “ 

She groans in response the buries her head back in the crook of Billy’s neck. “ Like someone stomped on my head and then made me lick a skunk “.

“ That bad, huh ? Well lease you didn’t throw up. “ 

“ Oh god I would’ve been mortified. That would’ve been so embarrassing. “ 

“ Why ? “ 

“ I don’t wanna puke in front of you. I want you to think I’m cute and sexy. And puking is neither cute nor sexy “ 

Billy scoffs out a laugh before placing another kiss on her head. “ Aw you want me to think you’re cute ? Why, you got a crush on me or something ? “ 

Her body shakes with laughter and Billy can feel her breath tickling his neck. He could stay in this moment forever. 

“ Don’t flatter yourself, pretty boy “ 

“ Do you want some breakfast ? Don’t think we got anything in the fridge but how about we go out and grab some ? “

“ Can I get some really greasy bacon and a big mug of coffee ? ” 

Billy smirks at that request.

“ You drink entirely too much coffee. “ 

“ Yeah so ? I’m perfect in any other way so let me have this one vice. “ 

He knows she’s joking but she might have a point. 

“ So, the kids missed you this week. “ (Y/N) says before stuffing another bite of bacon into her mouth. Her plate is filled with all different kinds of breakfast foods anyone can even think of. Sausages, bacon, hasbrowns, waffles and pancakes. A proper hangover breakfast if he’s ever seen one.

“ Sure they did. “ 

“ No, really. Jack drew a picture of a dinosaur that he wanted to give you. He was real sad that you weren’t there. “ 

It makes him smile, to know that he was being missed. It isn’t something he is used to but he slowly but surely gets more and more comfortable with the idea that he means something to someone. That he means enough to someone to be missed by them.

“ He’s a cool kid. “ 

“ He is. You’re really good with him by the way. You’re really good with all the kids. When you first showed up I didn’t think you would be. You proved me wrong though. I’m glad you did. “ 

To be quite honest, Billy didn’t think he’d be good with them either. That he’d start caring for them so quickly. But maybe it’s just a matter of right time right place. Maybe sometimes life brings people together than need each other. 

“ They’re alright kids. “ 

“ Have you ever thought about it ? “ (Y/N) asks, eating the last of her sausages.

“ About what ? “ 

“ Having kids. “ 

Those words make Billy almost choke on his drink. Him ? Him having kids one day ? Sure everyone thinks about it at some point in their life but Billy always came to the same conclusion. That his life is fucked up enough and that there is no way he’ll bring another person into it to ruin theirs in return.

He turned out the way he did mostly because of his parents’ mistakes, he doesn’t want to do the same to his kids. 

“ Nah. How would I ever be a good dad ? Never had anyone to show me how that works. “ 

“ You’re good with the kids though. Maybe you’re a natural “ 

“ Yeah well, my mom was good with kids and she still abandoned me so … “

The mood shifts from teasingly joking to uncomfortable in the matter of seconds, rendering both of them quiet and speechless for a moment. 

“ I — I’m sorry I didn’t mean to bring this up. “ 

“ No it’s alright. “ 

“ I should say sorry for so many things actually. I am sorry about how I treated you the other day. I was angry and sad and it was easier to blame you than to face the fact that my dad is an asshole who isn’t gonna change anytime soon. “ 

“ You already said sorry last night . “ 

Billy remembers her words from last night. All of them. But most of all he remembers her saying “ I love you “ and how it felt. How it meant so much more than anything else anyone has ever told him. 

“ I know but I felt like you should hear it again. From sober me. “ 

“ Apology accepted. “ 

“ So we’re good ? “ (Y/N) questions, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

“ We’re good. “ 

“ Cool. Because I missed you too. “ she confesses before leaning over the table and placing a soft kiss on his lips. She tastes like pancakes and bacon and maple syrup and home.

It’s the next day, Sunday. School’s out for the weekend, neither of them have to work that day or show of for volunteering and really, there’s not much to do in Hawkins on a sunday afternoon. 

Back to the future is playing on the big screen of the drive in as Billy and (Y/N) sit in his camaro, stuffing their faces with popcorn and twizzlers. 

The movie is supposed to be pretty good but Billy can’t really focus on it. There’s too much on his mind.

“ You alright ? “ (Y/N) asks, as Billy wipes his sweaty hands on his jeans for the 4th consecutive time in 5 minutes. 

“ Mmh. “ 

“ Well that sounds convincing. “ 

Billy take a big breath then reaches over towards the glove compartment, pulling out a slightly crumpled envelope.

“ What’s that ? “ 

“ Your birthday present. “ 

“ My what now ? “ 

“ Before I give it to you, I need to tell you something. “ 

He’s awfully aware that the words “I need to tell you something” aren’t usually accompanied by any good news. He hopes this time can be different. Hope she likes what he’s about to give her. Hope she says yes.

“ Okay, sure. But you know my birthday isn’t for another — “ 

“ I know. I got this yesterday. After I dropped you off at your place and after I went to see Dr. K. It’s uh — you don’t have to. I mean — I gotta start again. “ 

“ Yeah I think so cause I’m not following right now. “ 

“ I talked to my mom. “ 

“ Shut up. “ 

“ I did. I called her, after our fight I called her. And it was — so fucking awkward. She was so casual about it all. Like it hadn’t been years since we last talked. She asked me about work and school and my friends and things she should know. You know ? It didn’t feel like I was talking to my mom, more like a distance aunt or something. And I hate that it felt like that. At least for me it did. She seemed happy to talk to me, seemed like it was the most normal phone call she’s ever gotten. Like I call her every sunday for a catch up. “ 

“ Do you regret calling her ? “ 

“ No. No, I just wish it didn’t feel so fucking weird. There were moments when she’d call me by my childhood nicknames and I’d get a glimpse of the mom I remember. Like for a split second she was my mom again and I was a kid again and things were — good. But then she’d talk about her husband and it all came crashing back down and I realized that she’s living a whole new life. One that I don’t really have a place in “ 

“ She remarried ? “ (Y/N) asks, placing a hand on Billy’s in support. 

“ Yeah. I couldn’t bring myself to ask if she has any other kids. Think that would break my heart to know. To know those kids got to have the mom I didn’t get to have. That those kids were good enough for her to stay. That phone call was really exhausting too because I was stuck somewhere between my anger and resentment and the fact that I was talking to my mom who I still miss so so much. “ 

(YN) softly cradles his face in her hands. God, she is so gentle with me. He can’t get enough of it. It’s such a contrast to the touches his face is used to. The ones that leave ugly blue and black marks.

“ She invited me over. Said I can come around whenever I feel like it. Like it’s no big deal or anything. “ 

“ Do you wanna go ? “ 

Billy bites the skin on his lower lip, trying to find the proper words but coming up empty. How do you answer a question like that when you don’t even know the answer yourself.

“ I don’t know. I think I do. I uh — I actually talked to Dr. K about it. He thinks it might be good for me. If only to get closure. To understand her reasoning. I was so young then and I never really got to hear her reasoning for leaving, only ever Neil’s side of the story. “ 

It felt weird, talking to Dr. K about his feelings, about his mom, about the constant emotional turmoil he finds himself in. But Billy can’t deny that it was nice sharing it with someone he doesn’t look at him with preconceived notions. It also felt alright knowing that someone thought seeing his mom might actually be a good idea.

“ When do you wanna go see her ? “ (Y/N) asks, the movie long forgotten as she places a kiss on his cheek.

Billy opens the envelope and pulls out two thin piece of paper. Tickets. Plane tickets.

“ Was thinking we could go for your birthday. I told you I’d take you. I’ll take you swimming in the ocean, baby. If you want to come. “ 

“ You remember me saying that ? “ 

“ I remember everything you ever told me. So, what do you say ? “ 

He doesn’t let it show but the longer she takes to answer, the more anxious Billy gets. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe she doesn’t wanna come and deal with Billy’s emotional baggage. Maybe —

“ Of course I do ! “ 

When she kisses him, the worries melt away. Even if it’s just for a moment, the world slides back into place.

And as the end credits to the movie play on the screen and (Y/N) leans her head against his shoulder, Billy finds himself becoming a little excited for the adventure that is yet to come.

Not necessarily about the part of seeing his mom, that still leaves him anxious. But he can’t wait to take (Y/N) to the ocean. To see her dancing through the California sunshine.

He can’t wait to show her the place where he’s left behind the other part of his heart. 

@babygal-babygal / @anxiousamandapanda / @imjusthereforsupernatural / @chhhcherybomb / @tomarisela / @noodlenerd101 / @xxcxrolinexx / @bippity-boppity-boopa / @mcrmarvelloki / @silver-winter-wolf / @thecrowclubsmanager / @theroyalbrownbarbie / @salemlysi / @sarai-ibn-la-ahad / @asheseiler / @stra-vage / @ssstutteringbbbill / @biliyonce / @addictofsupernatural / @angelophany / @charmed-asylum / @xxemoluverxx / @killer-queen-xo / @1lluminaticonfirmed / @rebel-broken-angel / @ayybtch / @dean-jace-doctor /

#billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic