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makeitmingi · 6 months

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Cause Baby You're My Muse [Chapter 49]

Genre: Romance, Idol!AU, Music, Slight angst

Pairing: Mingi x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Producer!Reader, IdolLyricist!Mingi, IdolProducer!Hongjoong, Idol!Seonghwa, Idol!Yunho, Idol!Wooyoung, Idol!San, Idol!Yeosang, Idol!Jongho, cameo(s) by other celebrities

Summary: You always preferred producing underground, having an unknown face and governed by your own rules. But when you start freelancing for idol groups, you say goodbye to your lone wolf lifestyle as you learn to work with idol producers and lyricists.

Word count: 3.1K

When your alarm rang, you reached over to turn to it. You've been awake for god knows how long, just staring at the ceiling. Your body felt heavy and the tightness in your chest made it hard to breathe.

"Indi?" You heard Hongjoong's voice. You were surprised but nonetheless, you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing your big brother stand at your bedroom doorway. For a second, you had forgotten he was one of the people with the passcode to your home, for emergency purposes.

"Are you alright? Wow, you look awful." He blurted out, looking at your pale, messy appearance.

"Gee, thanks. Exactly why are you here again?" You frowned.

"Eden told me you called in sick and I wanted to check in on you. Mingi is at practice so I came." He frowned in worry.

"Oh, yeah. I was just feeling a little unwell..." You lied. He came to you and put his hands on your forehead before moving them to your cheeks. You leaned into his touch.

"Hmm, you don't feel very warm. You probably overworked yourself. Don't worry, I'll take care of you." He patted your head.

"There's no need, Joong-"

"Shush. Let me. Now you rest while I order food." He tucked you back under the blanket but he perched himself at the edge of the bed, focused on his phone to order you food.

"Joong, you already have 7 children to take care of. Really, I'm fine on my own." You sighed, hugging the pillow to your face.

"You're my baby sister, it's my duty to take care of you too. Plus, Seonghwa's with the kids, he'll be fine... I hope." Hongjoong grinned. You scoffed but couldn't help the laughter that escaped you at how Hongjoong casually left Seonghwa to the wolves.

"You know if he can't beat them, he'll join them, right?" You raised an eyebrow at him. Hongjoong shrugged and came over, getting under the covers with you.

"What are you doing?" You stared at him.

"You need some big brother loving." He laughed and wrapped his arms around you, pushing your head to his chest.

"What's gotten into you? You don't usually like this sort of thing, like physical contact." You chuckled, words muffled by the way you were smushed against him, but you didn't deny him or push him away.

"Like I said, you need some loving. Plus, I haven't been able to come spend time with you since I've been occupied with comeback preparations ." He confessed.

"Joong, you know I don't blame you, right? It's normal for you to be busy during comeback preparations." You looked up at him.

"I know. I just can't help but feel guilty. You know, since I basically adopted you as my sister." He sighed, hugging you tighter. You continued to laugh, not at him exactly, but more of how serious he was taking this older brother role. You hummed and draped an arm over him to hug him.

"Sleep. I'll wake you up when the food is here." He told you, stroking the back of your head..

"But I just woke up before you came." You lied. In fact, you haven't been able to sleep for the past few days, you've just been caught up in your head where you couldn't sleep.

"Just sleep more, you look like you could use it." He chuckled. You lifted your head again to glare at him.

"For saying that, you must now sing me a song to help me sleep." You slapped his arm.

"Fine." He began to sing a random song. Maybe it was the combination of the song, sleep deprivation and Hongjoong's sense of protection but you were lulled to sleep very quickly.

You didn't know how long you slept for but you assumed it wasn't too long because Hongjoong woke you up to tell you that the food was here. He brought a tray with rice in the soup and side dishes from your fridge that Mingi gave you.

"I'll feed you." He grinned and pulled a dining chair from outside to sit next to you.

"Joong! There's no need!" You groaned as you felt your cheeks heat up. He pouted with a small frown and shook his head.

"No! Now don't be stubborn!" He scolded.

"I'm seriously not that sick." You argued but Hongjoong held the tray with the bowl away from you. As if to say, if he doesn't feed you, you won't get to eat anything.

"Fine." You sulked.

"Ah~" He cooed, blowing at the spoon of rice and soup to make sure that it was cooled enough. You glared at him but opened your mouth for him to feed you. The victorious smirk on Hongjoong's face while you were chewing made you want to sock him. He reached out to pat your head.

"Good girl." He complimented. You reached over to grab a tissue to wipe your mouth.

"Seriously, don't you have other things to do? It's comeback prep season, Joong." You folded your arms, raising your eyebrows at him. He shook his head and held another spoon of food out to you.

"Wooyoung seemed excited on the collab cover you're working on with him." Hongjoong said.

"Yeah, we're looking at what genres we can work with." You nodded.

"He's a hard worker. Once he sets him heart on something, he'll make sure it's the best of his ability. He'll give it 110% to ensure it's perfect." Hongjoong told you proudly.

"Not just Wooyoung, all of you are like that... You're all so proud of your craft and anyone can see that you genuinely love music, performing and being on stage." You smiled softly.

"You've all proven yourselves to be talented and worthy of the stages you perform on."

"And yet, people seem to continuously short change us. I don't know how to consistently shield the boys from that." He sighed. You felt for Hongjoong, he carried all this on his shoulders. He felt responsible for not protecting his members when disaster strikes.

"You're already giving it your all and I'm sure the rest is grateful. You can't protect them from everything, Joong. The world is too cruel to take it all on your own." You reached out to squeeze his hand.

"You're right." He nodded, feeding you another spoon of food.

"But I'll do it, for them, for you." He smiled. You felt tears well up in your eyes as you pressed a hand to your eyes.

"Indigo! Why are you crying?! What's wrong?" Hongjong panicked, putting the bowl of food down and moving to stroke your back. He comforted you.

"It's okay, you'll feel better soon." He obviously thought you were just crying from being sick. But it was a lot more than that.

"It must be painful being sick. It's okay." He cooed, soothing you like a mother coaxing her child.

It was going to be hard when the boys were not going to be around anymore. This is why you didn't like getting close to people, one day, you would always find yourself walking away from them. You found that caring about yourself was the only way you could protect your heart, you didn't like being vulnerable.

"Do you want some medicine? It'll make you feel better." He grabbed a tissue and gently pulled your hand away from his eyes. Very softly, he wiped the tears off your cheeks.

"I'm sorry." You shook your head as you cried.

"Silly girl, what are you sorry about? Everyone gets sick." He chuckled, patting your head.

"When you finish your food, you can take some medication and rest, alright?" He hugged you, tucking your head into the crook of his neck.

You wished you could tell him why you were crying, tell him that you're gonna miss him and that him being so nice to you was just going to make things harder.

"Pretty girl, no more tears." He whispered, wiping your cheeks with a soft smile. After that, he fed you the remaining bit of food, he wanted to make sure that you had a full stomach before giving you any medicaiton to eat.

"Where are your painkillers?" He asked since you told him your 'head was hurting'.

"The drawer by the sink has a medicine box of sorts. The bottle should be in there." You told him. You heard him rummaging through the kitchen before coming back.

"Here you go." Hongjoong put two pills in your hand and gave you a glass to water to drink it with. When you were done, he placed the glass on the side table then properly tucked you in.

"I'm just going to do the dishes. I'll be back." He smiled.

"Just leave the dishes on the rack, okay Joong? I'll put them back later, it's no big deal." You said. While listening to Hongjoong do the dishes outside, you were on your phone, texting Mingi about how you were. You assured him there was no need to ditch training to come take care of you.

"Done." Hongjoong came back in when he was done. He slid under the covers beside you and you scooted close to him. He laughed at your actions and wrapped an arm around you.

"Are you comfortable?" He asked, hugging you to his side. You let out a small hum.

"Good. I don't just cuddle with anyone, you know. I'm not a skinship person." He joked. You rolled your eyes with a grunt but still snuggled close to him.

When you were asleep, you didn't hear Mingi come in. Truthfully, the giant had been asking Hongjoong for regular updates on how you were. He was worried hearing that you weren't feeling well.

"Hyung." Mingi whispered. Hongjoong looked up from his phone, putting a finger to his lips to hush your lover.

"Is she okay?" Mingi asked, reaching out to touch your forehead. He then went over to Hongjoong so they wouldn't have to whisper over you and risk waking you.

"She's fine now. Fed her and gave her medicine. She's been sleeping quite a bit so I think it's exhaustion." The captain said and looked down at your sleeping face. Everyone knew of your tendency to overwork and overexhaust yourself.

"I wish she would take care of herself more." Mingi sighed, shaking his head.

"It's normal with producers, you know that." Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. He too was guilty of overworking and being so sleep deprived, that's when Seonghwa had to step in to care for him.

"I want to stay with her a little longer." Hongjoong told Mingi before the giant could ask the captain to leave.

"Sure, hyung. I wasn't going to ask you to leave anyway. Thanks for coming to take care of her though." Mingi chuckled.

"Not like I would have left. And of course I would come take care of her, she's practically my sister. But I haven't been a good brother to her." The captain glared at the taller.

"I'm sure she would beg to differ, hyung." Mingi smiled, knowing you all too well.

"You're right." Hongjoong nodded.

"Well, I'm going to continue working outside." Mingi informed. He was honest when he said that he wasn't going to ask Hongjoong to leave at all. Actually, Mingi came home earlier just to make sure that you were really okay. Now that he knows that you are, he was more relieved and able to focus on his work.

"I love you." Mingi leaned over to kiss your head before going outside to work at the dining table.

Sure, Mingi was a little jealous that another man was in bed with you, holding you. But Hongjoong did use his off time to come and take care of you, which Mingi was grateful for.

"They're practically siblings, it's fine." Mingi told himself, taking a deep breath as he typed away on his keyboard.

"Mings...?" You stood there at the doorway, half asleep. Mingi looked at the clock, not noticing that he's been working for 3 hours already.

"Hey, baby. How are you feeling?" Mingi stood up immediately. He walked over to engulf you in a big hug, his cheek nuzzling against the top of your head.

"Feeling okay... Joong's asleep..." You mumbled.

"Yeah, let him sleep. He needs it too." He chuckled, kissing your temple. He led you to the couch, sitting you on his lap.

As you leaned against him, Mingi stroked your hair. He noticed you acting different the past few days. When he video called you, your smile didn't reach your ears. When you spoke to him on the phone, you sounded tired and there was no more energy in your voice.

"So how was practice?" You suddenly asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

"It was good. Did some vocal training." He shrugged. His arms instinctively hugged you tighter. Just his warmth and scent could make you fall back into another slumber.

"Falling asleep on me again?" He laughed. Even if he made fun of you, he still loved that he had this effect on you.

"You're nice and warm to sleep on." You murmured sleepily. Mingi moved so you could rest your head against his chest comfortably.

"Sleep then, baby." He encouraged.

"No, I need to work. I've been sleeping the whole day." You sat up, rubbing your eyes. Mingi watched you go into your studio, turning on your system and sitting down.

"But you're not well, baby. That's why you told Eden you weren't going into the studio today, right? He would understand that you need to rest." He stood behind you, turning you around in your chair so that you could face him. His hands came up to hold your cheeks to check your temperature.

"I'm fine, Mings. I don't feel sick anymore. Don't worry." You laughed, putting your hands over his. He didn't look convinced.

"And I'm with you here and Joong sleeping in the room. At most if I faint, I'll be at home and you two will be here to call the ambulance." You joked. Mingi frowned at your words.

"Geez, I'm just kidding. Don't look at me like that." You slapped his arm.

"I don't like those sort of jokes." He scolded, crossing his arms. You leaned in to peck his lips before turning back to your computer.

"I'm really okay, Mings. I'll even leave the door open so you can come check on me any time you want while you work too, okay?" You negotiated. Mingi looked at you but sighed in defeat.

"Only for a while, we'll eat dinner after." He said. You nodded, saluting at him. Laughing, he leaned over to give you another kiss and walked back to the living room.

"Indigo? She's in the studio... I tried to stop her, hyung. But you know she wouldn't listen to me." You heard Mingi speaking to someone, you assumed that it was Hongjoong, who had just woken up. You rolled your eyes hearing your boyfriend tattle on you. Hongjoong's shuffled over to you.

"Excuse me. Why are you working?" He asked, putting his face right in front of yours. He even gently knocked your head with his knuckle like knocking a door.

"Because I feel better AND I have deadlines." You raised an eyebrow at him with a scoff.

"I was supposed to accompany you to nap and yet, I woke up in bed alone." He frowned, knocking his forehead against yours.

"You need to sleep too, captain. You've been too busy with this comeback period and making sure the boys are where they need to be. Actually, you probably need more sleep than me." You said.

"True!" Mingi voiced.

"Whose side are you on, Song Mingi?!" Hongjoong yelled.

"By the way, while you two sort your... discussion about who deserves sleep more... I'm going to order dinner. Is seafood stew okay?" Mingi appeared at the door way, leaning against the frame as he ignored you and Hongjoong's tiff.

"That's fine. Thanks, Mings." You smiled. Hongjoong hummed and nodded his head in agreement. Mingi gave a thumbs up and went back to his spot in the living room.

"Maybe you can help me." You suggested. Hongjoong didn't protest, taking a chair and sitting beside you.

"What are you working on?" He looked at your screen.

"I'm rearranging the song for Wooyoung's cover. Tell me how I can accentuate his vocal tone using a beat. I know his voice is a little air-ier than the rest." You said.

Hongjoong gave you advise, helping you work to rearrange the original song's beats to fit Wooyoung's style more.

"Okay, producers. The food's here. No more work." Mingi entered, clapping his hands.

"Hang on." You said.

"No. Baby, you promised you would stop when dinner was ready." Mingi reminded. You pouted but knew that Mingi wasn't going to budge. You obediently saved your work and went out of the studio. While you washed your hands, Mingi leaned on the counter beside you. He wrapped an arm around you waist.

"My workaholic." He chuckled, leaning in to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss. Mingi loved teasing your workaholic tendencies. Hongjoong clearing his throat made the two of you pull away.

"I would not want to throw up before I even eat dinner." He crossed his arms.

"Oops." You giggled, patting Mingi on the hip before walking to the table with the bowls of rice.

"Let me scoop the soup." You grabbed the ladle to begin serving the soup into each person's bowl, portioning the seafood while Mingi took the seat beside you.

"Oh, let me get the sauce dishes for the dip." Mingi stood up and went to get the small dishes to pour to seafood sauce onto.

"We can cook ramen in the soup later." You told them as you took your seat. The soup looked good, filled with loads of seafood and vegetables. You all dug into the delicious, warm stew with rice. It was satisfying and comforting.

"This hits the spot, it's good." You smiled happily, making Mingi and Hongjoong laugh fondly at you.

As Hongjoong and Mingi were having a conversation, the guilt sunk in. One was like your older brother and one was your boyfriend. And yet, they're the ones you've been keeping secrets from.

It made your chest feel tight at the though of it. They didn't know what has been going on. But you couldn't bring yourself to.

So how could you possibly tell them that you were leaving?

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copper-russell · 6 months

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don't you give me up || self-para

Set 10th November 2005 TW: death of a parent, descriptions of blood and gore note: i was gonna do this for the october task and then realised it has to be a swynlake ghost but i had written like half of it soo have it anyway ty

Malcolm awoke, blinking quickly, bewildered to find himself not in his bed, but standing in the hallway. The house was in complete darkness, deathly silent, only the ticking of the clock on the hallway wall interrupting the quiet. He glanced up at it; 3:47. Jesus -- he must've fallen asleep on his way in from work. He did that a lot. Well - he had never fallen asleep standing up in the hallway before, but he had driven home after a nightshift, going through the motions, getting home and realising he couldn't remember any of the drive a hundred times before. Must be something like that, he supposed.

He knew he should take his boots off, that Arushi would kill him if he left muddy footprints all over the house, but he didn't. Something felt more pressing. Usually at the end of the night shift he'd make himself a cup of tea, re-heat whatever left-overs were in the fridge from the evening meal he'd missed, and watch whatever re-run happened to be on at 5am on a Thursday morning. If his wife was on the early shift, he'd make her breakfast and take it up to her; otherwise he would head upstairs and crawl into bed, inevitably waking her up when the mattress dipped and he pressed his cold hands against the bed-warm skin of her back, just to make her grumble.

But this morning felt different. He felt like he had to go right upstairs. Probably the tiredness, but he just felt the need to check. Just to look in on them both. Just for a few minutes, then he'd get back to his routine.

He came to his and Arushi's bedroom first, standing in the wide-open doorway. They always left the door right open, ever since Krish had gone through that phase of having night terrors. Countless nights they'd had to spring up out of bed in the wee hours and run to his room to console him. It had been years since that had happened, with only the odd nightmare in between, but they still didn't want to risk it.

Arushi was still fast asleep, her dark hair a wild mess across his pillow, even though she religiously slept on her side of the bed (unlike her husband, who was happy to sleep slap bang in the middle of the bed whenever his wife had the night shift). She was lying on her side, facing away from him, but he could see the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the deep breaths of a good sleep.

He moved silently along the corridor, a miracle given that he was still wearing the steel capped boots and his vest, until he had stopped at Krish's room. The door was only slightly ajar, so that his mother could do the dishes or watch the television downstairs without disturbing him, and Malcolm hovered by it, not wanting to open the door and risk waking him. He could see him anyways, a gangly mess of arms and legs and floppy hair. He had shot up overnight a few months ago, and he still didn't seem to know what to do with his limbs. He was comfortable, at least. He twitched, reminding Malcolm of the dog they'd had when he was a kid, that had ran whole marathons and barked in its sleep. He chuckled softly, backing away from the door.

A shadow caught the corner of his eye; he wasn't alone.

"Danny -- mate, what are you doing here?"

PC Daniel Daily was stood in the hallway, in his tactical kit and his boots, same as Malcolm. They'd been out together tonight, as they often were. Danny was little more than an over-grown toddler, 22 and out of training only a year. Malcolm had more experience, so they'd stick them together on shifts. Danny was a good lad - a good bit of banter on him, but good at the job. Dedicated.

Terrified. That was how he looked, standing with nothing but the moonlight coming in through the window at the top of the stairs to light him. He looked terrified.

"We have to go." Danny said.

"What?" Malcolm asked. "Shift's over, mate. We don't have to go anywhere."

Danny's lip trembled. "We aren't meant to be here."

"Well I know you're not, you plonker," Malcolm laughed. "You're meant to be at home. Your Cheryl'll be worried sick, you know what she's like."

Danny shook his head, looking at the floor. "We aren't meant to be here, Mick."

He looked up and Malcolm recoiled, bile rising in his throat. Danny's face was streaked with blood, and the left side of his face was just -- gone. No, not gone; caved in, the spot where his eye should be just blotch of red, looking black in the darkness of the hallway. He swayed, and Malcolm saw flashes of sharp white bone, fragments caught in the mess that had once been his face.

"Danny--" He choked, tasting copper on his tongue. Blood welled in his mouth. His chest felt warm, the warmth spreading, and he tried to get out of his vest but he couldn't. He couldn't get it off, as though it were a part of him, the equvialent to trying to pull his skin away. He looked down and his hands were stained red-black-- his hand. The other was a jumble of what might have been fingers, once. The tip of his index pointed one way, his pinky finger the other, the rest a stump of gore and ligament. He coughed, and the blood sputtered out of his mouth--

The road had been quiet, on the outskirts of the city, a residential area where the homeowners knew better than to be out at silly o'clock. They were sat in the car, each with a cheap coffee, the steam from the carboard cups fogging up the edges of the windscreen, when the radio crackled. 10-55 on Archer's Lane, suspects going at an unknown speed, reported hit and run, silver car. All available units please assist.

10-55, Danny had said. DUI?

Suspected, Malcolm had replied, coffee already abandoned, putting the car in first. But yeah. We're only a few streets out, we'll head over.

They'd been the first unit to scene, and unbelievably, the car had stopped. They'd pulled in front and parked up, getting out of the squad car. Malcom had used the radio on his vest to make dispatch aware. Dispatch be advised, car has stopped. Silver volvo, registration SB--

That was as far as he got. The car lurched forward, hitting Danny, the sickening crunch as it ran over him the only thing Malcolm registered before he saw the car start to reverse. He had no weapon, nothing to defend himself. And yet still he ran towards the car, trying to get to the driver, to open the door, to do something. He reached for the radio again as the car began to move forwards--

Dispatch, additional units and ambulance, officer do--

Red and blue flashing lights, but no sirens. Danny was lit red and blue and back again, highlighting the viscera of his broken face. Malcolm coughed again, felt the crunch of his ribs, cracked and snapped beyond repair. Felt the pressure of the tires as they had rolled over his chest.

He closed his eyes, squeezed them tight shut. When he opened them again, the taste of blood was gone. Danny looked himself. Scared, just a boy, but no longer disfigured. "We have to go." Danny said again. "This place isn't for us anymore."

Malcom turned towards Krish's door again. He tried to push it open, but his hand went straight through. Krish was still sleeping, his room thankfully at the back of the house, so the lights didn't wake him. He was ten. They'd taken him to the zoo for his birthday. Malcom was supposed to be taking him to Whitby at the weekend, to go rockpooling.

Three knocks at the front door. When Malcom turned around, Danny was gone. Arushi groaned from her room. She was still shrugging into her dressing gown, trying to tie it around her waist as she left. She paused in the hallway, staring blankly out the window.

"No." She murmured. She abandoned the dressing gown, racing down the stairs. Malcolm followed her, reaching out for her hand as it skirted down the bannister, but he couldn't reach her, no matter how close he got. She swore as she fiddled with the keys, fumbling them in her haste, trying to find the right ones. When she finally opened the door, she heaved a sob. Sargeant Mills was stood on the doorstep, his hat in his hands.

"Can I come in, Mrs. Russell?"

Malcolm turned; Krish was crouched at the top of the staircase, looking down, his dark eyes wide. He always looked like that - his eyes wide open, wondering, so full of questions. Malcolm didn't have the answers half of the time, but he had never discouraged it, that curiosity his son had.

He tried to head towards the stairs, but his legs felt numb. The warmth returned to his chest, the blood in the back of his throat. He couldn't speak; his throat felt tight. He remembered Danny, standing in the hallway.

This place isn't for us anymore.

His time was up. His family would be okay. He had to believe that, for whatever came next. Malcolm closed his eyes, and let the blackness wash over him.

#( journal. )#a task that isnt a task and is just uuh idek #tw blood #tw gore #tw death #i love writing horror bye

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nrrrdgrrrl2002 · 7 months

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Alright!

Here’s the continuation of this short

“Audrey had just returned to the real world after a trip to the ink realm. She fell onto her bed and put her hands in her face.

“Ugh. If I have to stop anymore lost ones from killing each other I swear to goddd” she said as she rubbed her face.

She felt horribly tired. She couldn’t even remember the last time she slept. She checked the time and saw it was 7:45. She could probably go to bed now. It’d be fine.

She layed her head on a pillow and was about to go to sleep. Until she heard

“Audrey?” She opened her eyes to see bendy at the doorway.

Dammit Audrey.

She thought to herself as she sat up. “Audrey!” Bendy yelled as he ran and jumped up to her. “Hey lil budd- oof!” She yelped as the little 5 year old jumped into her arms and nearly knocked her over.

Kid must’ve gotten stronger since she’s been gone.

“I’m glad sthee you! How wasth your trip? Did you take anything with you? What happened? Were there monsthtersth? Did you fight anybody? Why do you look stho tired?” He bombarded her with questions.

She was about to attempt to answer, but looked down at bendy and noticed something odd about his appearance.

“What’s this?” She asked as she gently grabbed a little curled up tuft of black fur on the side of his head.

He had them on both sides of his round head. Along with a bit that look like curled up hair on the left side of his face.

“What’sth what?” He asked as he gave her a puzzled look. “When did you get fur?” She clarified.

Bendy felt the tuft of fur Audrey just let go as he thought about the question. “Idk” he muttered as he shrugged.

She scratched her head in confusion as bendy stared at her. His horns looked a bit longer too now that she thought about it. And he seemed a bit bigger than she remembered…

“Hey bud. You wanna go see how tall you are?” She asked him, curious if her suspicions were correct. “Sure!” Bendy said as he jumped off the bed.

She got up and went to get a marker from her desk before leaving her room, bendy following her. They went into the living room and she went to the wall the other markings were on.

“Alright bud. You know what to do” she said as she gestured to the wall. Bendy stood there, confused.

“Is something wrong?” She asked him. “What am I sthupposthed to do?” He asked.

“Don’t you remember how you’d stand against the wall and I marked how tall you are?” She asked. It hasn’t been THAT long since they did that… has it.

“Isth that what thosthe are?” He pointed to the old markings as he asked.

“Yeah! These mark how tall you are” she said. She then noticed that, even only being a little close to the wall, that bendy was clearly a head taller than both marks. “Were…” she corrected herself in a confused and slightly concerned tone.

Bendy gave a worried look, picking up on something being wrong with Audrey’s reaction. Audrey tried to backtrack.

“Alright. So what you do is stand against the wall as straight as you can” she said as she took his arm and gently guided him. “ and you hold still until I make a mark on the wall on top of your head” she finished.

“Ok!” Bendy said as he smiled. Audrey marked his head and he moved back to look. Just as she thought, it was a decent foot above the older markings.

“ woahhh. I got a lot taller” bendy said as he looked. “You’re… growing up?” She muttered to herself.

“Isth that a bad thing?” Bendy asked, hearing her. She gave a surprised look as she panicked slightly. “U-uh. No no! I-it’s just….”

Audrey what the hell are you thinking?

Bendys not going to become like him.

But then why is he becoming off model?

Could it mean-

“Justht what?” Bendy asked, having a concerned face. Audrey didn’t know how to answer.

“I-it’s nothing, bud. Just silly adult thoughts. You don’t have to worry about it” she responded as she rubbed his head and got up.

But his expression only became more concerned as he said in an apprehensive tone “ ok…”

The two stood in awkward silence as Audrey tried to think of anything to change the subject.

“Whatsth that?” Bendy asked as he pointed at marking higher up than all the others.

“Oh! That’s my height” she responded. “You’re pretty tall” bendy said.

“Yeah. Just a little bit” she said. She didn’t really see herself as tall. She wasn’t really short either. She was probably the perfect height for a woman of her age to be.

“But I bet I’ll be taller than you when I’m all grown up!” He said confidently. She gave a little chuckle.

“Sureee you will, lil bud” she said as she kneeled down to pinch his cheek. Bendy got annoyed as he picked up on her sarcastic tone and tapped her hand away.

“I will!” He said in a mad tone. She kept laughing at his insistence. “Oh really? You think you’ll be tall enough to pick me up like this?” She said as she picked him up and held him like a baby, even if he was too big for that.

“Yesth!” He yelled as he laughed. “Hmm. Doubtful. You’re always gonna be my tiny little bendy. And there’s nothing you can do about it!” She said in a joking tone as she tickled him.

“Ahh! I will! I’m gonna be sthoooo tall I’ll be able to beat you up like it’sth nothin!” He yelled as he tried to get him off of her.

“Huh! You wanna beat up your own sister?! And after all I’ve done for you? Im hurt!” She said in fake sad tone.

“You taped the kitchen sthink nozzle stho it’d sthpray me when I turned on the sthink a few weeksth back” he responded.

A few weeks ago?

She could’ve sworn that wasn’t THAT long ago

“Hmm. True. Tell you what. IF you somehow grow up to be taller than me, you’re allowed to try to fight me. Deal?” She said with a mischievous smile.

“Hmph! Ok” bendy agreed in an annoyed tone as Audrey put him down.

“Will you read me a sthtory now that you’re home?” He asked. “aren’t you able to read on your own now?” She asked.

“Yeahhh. But I like having you read them to me” he said, playing up the cuteness. She rolled her eyes while smiling.

“Ok bud. But only one” she said. “Ok” bendy said as the two walked off to his room.

Audrey walked through the door, soaking wet as it had been pouring outside. She rubbed her eyes as she sighed.

She was pretty sure she’d have to go back to work early tomorrow. Going immediately back to work after spending days in the ink realm trying to wrangle cultists probably didn’t lead to the best storyboards.

She went to walk into her room to get to bed early when she got knocked onto her butt after running into something. Or rather, someone.

“Ouch!” Bendy yelped as he he also fell, a book falling next to him. He looked to see who knocked him over as he rubbed his head.

“Oh hey, auds!” He said. Audrey noticed that while he still had a child’s voice, it had deepened slightly.

Bendy got up first. He helped Audrey up before giving her a hug. “Hey bud! Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!” She said as she rubbed his head.

She was starting to get used to the idea of him growing up. But as she got a good look at him as he let go, she noticed just how…. Different he looked from the bendy she Drew constantly.

The fur on the sides of his head had grown longer and the tips split into two on both sides. The bit of fur on his face had curled up more and was much more noticeable. He also now had a chunk of black fur sticking out the top of his head, between his now longer horns and covered a bit of his white face.

His face was also longer and more triangular than the circular face he used to have, his cheeks being more prominent.

He was also a lot taller. Despite only being 8, he looked like he was only a few inches away from being as tall as her.

“How was your trip?” He asked. She snapped back into reality as she heard the question.

“Very long. Very glad to be home now” she answered. “I’d love to talk more with ya bud, but I’m horribly drained. I gotta get some rest so I won’t be all tired and cranky for your birthday in a week. Excited to be 9 years old soon?” She said as she walked past him to get to her room.

Bendy gave her a confused look. Audrey noticed as she turned to say goodnight. “Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Auds. I turned nine like two weeks ago” he responded. She gave a shocked expression. “What?? That can’t be right!” She ran to the kitchen to look at the calendar.

Oh my god it was

“Oh my god I missed it! Oh! Bendy I’m so sorry!” She yelled. “It’s fine sis. No biggie” bendy responded in a chill voice.

“No it’s not! I promised I’d be here before your birthday and I wasn’t!” She exclaimed, feeling very guilty.

“Eh. I’m used to you making promises you can’t follow through on. I kinda figured you’d miss it anyway” he responded calmly.

He heart sank to her stomach at that response.

Was she really that bad at upholding promises??

“Ohh I’m so sorry bud. I’ll make it up to you, I swear! Once I finish up work this week we’ll have a proper celebration, ok?” She said.

“Sure” bendy said in a fake nice tone as he shrugged his shoulders. She didn’t notice the fakeness in his tone as she noticed something else.

“Wait. What happened to your lisp?” She asked. “My what?” He asked, confused.

“Your lisp. You haven’t been able to pronounce your s’s without a “th” to it. But you’ve been talking just fine this whole time” she said.

Bendy gave her a look that was a mix of confusion and annoyance. “Dude. I haven’t had that for months” he said in a slightly baffled tone.

“Did you seriously not notice?” He continued. Audrey felt surprised at his aggressive tone.

Bendys eyes widened as he realized how rude he came across. “It’s fine. You’ve been busy” he backtracked.

“A-are you sure?” She asked. She wanted to move on but felt like she shouldn’t. Bendy panicked slightly as he looked around for a distraction.

He noticed those old markings on the wall in the living room. “Hey! Why don’t we do another height check. Bet I’m taller than you now!” He said in a fake excited tone.

Audrey wasn’t sure how to respond. She knew she should figure out what’s going on with bendy but-

“Come on!” He said as he nabbed a marker from a kitchen drawer and tugged her over there.

“O-ok” she responded. Bendy stood against the wall after handing her the marker.

She pushed down the fur on top of his head as he marked the top of his head.

He moved next to her to take a look. “Hm. Not quite to your height yet. But I’m gettin there, huh?” He said to Audrey.

Audrey became lost in her own thoughts. Simply responding with a quiet “yeah… getting there…”

They stood there as bendy tried to think up a way to leave the awkward situation.

“Imma go read in my room before bed. Night sis” he said awkwardly as he walked off.

Audrey snapped back into reality as she realized what bendy said. “Oh! Umm. Goodnight!” She yelled, but bendy was already gone.

She hugged herself as she felt a pit in her stomach.

How much had she missed?

Audrey felt loopy from fatigue as she got out a ladder. She wanted to just lie in bed for the day. But she said she’d replace the air filter, so she’s replacing the air filter.

Her balance was a bit off as she climbed up the ladder, feeling a pang of lightheadedness with each movement of her head as she opened the vent.

She must’ve been real loopy. Cause she could’ve sworn the filter already in there looked clean.

She took another step up, only to lose her footing and fall back. “Woahwoahwoah!” She yelped as she braced herself to hit the floor hard.

“Oh shit!” She heard a male voice yell as she felt someone catch her before she hit the floor.

She looked up to see that the person who caught her and was now holding her bridal style was her little brother.

“Hey sis what’s up?” He asked in a nearly adult voice. She blinked in confusion at not only the situation, but also at her brothers voice.

Even for a 13 year old, it was oddly deep.

As he put her down, she asked “when did your voice get deeper?” Without thinking.

“Well when a boy grows into a young man, his body goes through special changes-“ he said in a sarcastic tone.

“Ha ha. Very funny” she said in an annoyed tone. As she stood straight, she noticed something else.

Bendys fur on the sides of his head had grown even more to now split into three parts on each side. And the tuft of fur on top of his head between his even longer horns had split into two parts and covered more of his face.

His face had also sharpened quite a bit. It was still soft, but it was far more triangular. And he was also..

“Did.. did you get taller than me?” She said as she realized SHE needed to look up at HIM.

Bendy chuckled as the two walked into the living room. “Sis I’ve BEEN taller than you for a little while now” he said as he leaned against the wall.

Tha sane wall with the markings. That even leaning, bendy was taller than all of them.

A pang of anxiety started to build inside.

“I-I guess it’s just… it feels like only yesterday I was able to pick you up and swing you around as you’d laugh and smile. And.. now…” she was struggling to find the words.

“Well now I can return the favor” he said as he went up to her. With a mischievous smile, he grabbed the sides of her shoulders and picked her up above his head.

“See?” He said with a smile. Audrey felt panic pour over as her mind flashed to something.

Him

The demon who towered over her

Picked her up like she was weightless

Opening his mouth to-

“AHHHH!” She screamed in fear. Bendy dropped her in surprise as his eyes widened.

“Woah woah! What’s wrong?!” He said. Audrey gasped for air as she tried to calm down.

She looked up at bendy as he gave her an incredibly worried expression. She tried her best to regain her composure.

He’s not him he’s not him he’s not him

“It’s… it’s nothing… I just… don’t like heights that’s all” she responded. Bendy didn’t buy it for a second.

“…ok” he said reluctantly as he helped her get up. “Sorry about that” she said. “It’s fine” he said in a bored tone.

She looked down in thought. “Imma go hang in my room if you need me” he said as he tried to walk off.

“Wait!” She said as she grabbed his arm. “A-are… are you really fine” she asked.

“Yeah. I already said I was. Can I go now?” He said, trying to tug his arm away from her grip.

“You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong-“ she started before being interrupted. “Yeah sure I could. Now fuck off” he said as he continued to try to tug himself away from her.

“Hey language! We don’t talk to each other like that!” She yelled in a stern tone before bendy managed to pull himself away.

“Ugh! Maybe I’d know how we should talk to each other if you were around to talk to more” he let slip.

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” She responded angrily. They both knew they should stop here, but they were both too heated to back out now.

“What do ya think it means?!” Bendy yelled in her face. He was about to let his anger out fully when he suddenly clutched his head in pain.

No… stay out of this

Bendy thought as he looked back at Audrey. He had to stop it here, whether he wanted to or not.

“Listen. I said fuck off, now fuck off!” He said angrily, making his headache worse.

“Go to your room!” Audrey shouted as she pointed to the hallway. “Already planned to!” Bendy shouted back as he walked off.

“And don’t come out until you learn how to be respectful!” She shouted again. “Not like you’ll be around to see when that happens!” Bendy shouted back before slamming his door.

“Ugh!” Audrey groaned loudly as she leaned on the nearest wall and slumped down.

She took a deep breath as she calmed down.

God she handled that horribly

She looked at the markings on the wall next to her.

He used to be so small. So harmless. Unable to hurt even a fly.

She didn’t have to feel worried about him like she did with him.

She didn’t have to even think about being afraid of-

Audrey buried her face in her knees.

Why’d you have to get taller?”

#batim #batdr #batai #bendy #bendy and the artificial industry #nrrrdgrrrlwriting

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ldrfanatic · 3 years

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Who Wakes Up First

So I've decided I'm also going to start doing preferences. Feel free to leave those in the ask box as well!! :)

NAVIGATION

Dick The beautiful thing about you and Dick's relationship is how in sync the two of you are. Even if one of you slept terribly the night before you always wake up at precisely the same time, occasionally a few seconds off. It can make it hard to do stuff like breakfast in bed for your s/o, but it's also sickeningly sweet.

If one of you is still asleep than that one is probably sick. Funnily enough, you found out you were pregnant that way. One morning Dick woke up and you were still sleeping soundly. You slept two hours past when he woke up which sent him into panic mode. Immediately he demanded a check up at the hospital.

When you got to Gotham General it was quite the surprise to find out you were pregnant. (Let's be honest here, Dick would be the s/o to get sympathy symptoms)

Jason Due mostly to his nightly activities, you more than often wake up before Jason. Most of the time, you're snuggled into his warmth, trapped between his arms and your legs between his thighs. It's endearing. Jason has such a rough experience with losing people. So having you in his arms whilst he sleeps is a constant reassurance that you're okay and still with him.

As sweet as this is, don't expect to move before he wakes up. You've tried many times to escape what you jokingly call Jason's Jail, yet you have no luck. If you wake up with your body locked in his, you are going no where.

Sometimes, on nights where patrol wasn't too exhausting, Jason can be found in the kitchen when you wake up. On those mornings you like to stand in the doorway silently watching his back muscles flex as he creates what can only be described as magic in the kitchen.

Tim 99.9% of the time, Tim doesn't sleep. You've come to pretty much accept the fact that he runs on caffeine like a super powered living computer. Most mornings, Tim can be found exactly where he was the night before, in front of his computer working on case files.

Still, you have your moments of superior convincing in which you manage to drag the kid off to bed. In those moments, he refuses to sleep in the bed without you. It can be cute, but disastrous. Once you manage to coax him to sleep, Tim will sleep for days. Two at the least. Because of the constant caffeine running through him he sleeps incredibly lightly and the slightest unnatural jolt from you puts him on high alert and sadly, awake.

If he hasn't wrapped around you like a spiderweb, then you always wake up before he's done with his sleep deprivation caused coma. Then, there you are when he awakes, a coffee mug in your hands, brewed to perfection.

Damian After years of being Robin, Damian has perfected running on three hours of sleep max. He of course wouldn't mind more sleep. Still, he'd rather wake up early every morning.

It's not uncommon for you to awake to Damian staring at you with an unreadable expression. A blush often spreads from his intense emerald gaze. As an admirer of the arts, Damian's gaze is often harshly criticizing and still he looks at you like you're the greatest work of art he's seen in a thousand years.

When approached the first time about his borderline creepy habit, Damian felt only the need to explain to you that he admired things he felt worthy of admiration. Seeing you blissfully peaceful in your sleep strikes a feeling in Damian that he can't quite explain. He also feels the overwhelming need to be awake and alert, protecting you at all times. Mornings with him are soft and serene.

Bruce Bruce isn't one of those people that really sleeps that often. Usually, he's up until 4 or 5 am fighting criminals and gallivanting across Gotham City rooftops. He crawls into bed at 6:30 every morning for an hour nap before he's got to start getting ready for WE business and to present himself as Bruce Wayne to yearning tabloids and Gothamites alike.

However, on the rare occasion that you do manage to pull him away from all the extremes that come with his mission to purge his city of evil, he is absolutely all about any sort of cuddles, and movie nights. Even on these nights, he still wakes before you.

His physique and lifestyle both require him to maintain a dictated schedule. Bruce just isn't the type of person to sleep in, whether he's got the day off or not. Still, on the days you do manage to wrangle him into spending with you, it's rather nice to wake in the strong, loving embrace of your big, bad bat.

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junghelioseok · 3 years

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heart-on.

↳ your one-night stand definitely isn’t relationship material, but maybe—just maybe—your manager’s son is.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | strangers to lovers!au ◇ 10.1k [1/1]

❛❛ my boss is always telling me how perfect her son would be for me and she promises he’s coming to the next holiday party and don’t worry he’s heard all about me too and ALSO there’s this dude i slept with once a couple of months ago and sometimes he still sends me dick pics when i ask him to at 3 in the morning cause seriously dude’s got a good dick ❜❜

notes: welcome to the first installment of the serendipity series! we’re starting with hoseok, because, well, have you met me? 🤣 be warned, however, that this isn’t anywhere near as edited as i’d like so i’ll probably give it another read/edit tomorrow but for now!!! here it is!!!

⇢ series masterlist. | inspired by this post.

warnings: dirty talk bc hoseok’s got a bit of a mouth on him, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, kids!), sexting. dick pics, obvi. brief mention of a dead pet goldfish :(

You’re refilling your mug when you hear it. Voices filter out from the kitchen, floating past the coffee station where you’re pouring yourself another drink and hanging in the open air of the hallway that leads back to the rest of the office. They’re familiar voices, too—voices that belong to the resident gossips of your workplace. Lottie’s pitchy, nasal tone melds with Hyejin’s higher one, their conversation interrupted every so often by an exaggerated exclamation or gasp from Sandra, the third and final member of their trio.

“Haven’t you heard? Carolyn’s divorce was finalized over the weekend, the poor thing.”

“I can’t even begin to imagine how she’s feeling. I mean, getting back into dating at her age? Goodness!”

“And now she’ll be all alone at the holiday party, too. How sad is that?”

“It’s tragic. Poor thing.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab a packet of sugar and tear it open, upending it over your mug and watching the crystalline granules fall into the dark liquid within. You know for a fact that Sandra and her husband can’t even stand to be in the same room for an extended period of time, considering how they’d spent most of last year’s holiday party talking to entirely different groups of people. You’d sat two tables away from them during dinner, and they hadn’t even made eye contact once. And as for Lottie and Hyejin, well, you’re certain that their relationships aren’t much better. All three of them are miserable people as far as you’re concerned, and you make a mental note to check in on Carolyn—a sweet woman in her thirties who always keeps chocolate bars in her purse—on your way back to your desk.

“Sheesh. Vultures, the lot of them. Don’t you think?”

You whirl at the sound of your manager’s voice. Kyunghee Jung is a dark-haired woman in her late fifties, and she laughs when she sees your startled expression, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Easy! You’ll spill your coffee if you’re not careful.”

“I’ll probably have a heart attack first,” you reply, pressing a hand to your chest. “What was your job before this? Some kind of intelligence operative? Are you a super spy?”

Kyunghee laughs again and joins you at the counter. “Nothing even remotely as exciting as that,” she answers, plopping her mug down beside yours. It’s decorated with what looks like every color of the rainbow, a massive smiling sunflower taking up the majority of the surface, and the only remnant of the ceramic’s original color is on the very edge of the handle where there’s a lopsided little patch of white. The piece is clearly handmade, and a stark contrast to the simple mint green cup that houses your coffee. Looking at it, it’s impossible not to smile.

“I love that,” you remark, inclining your head at her mug. “Was it a present from one of your kids?”

“Hoseok,” she confirms, running a fingertip along the imperfect handle fondly. “I’ve told you about him before—he’s right around your age.”

You chuckle. “Right, I remember. That’s why he’s the perfect match for me, right?”

“Come now, there’s more to it than that,” Kyunghee defends, waving a hand. “But yes, to answer your question. He gave it to me as a birthday present when he was eight.”

“Well, you never told me he was an artist,” you tease. “Does he have an Etsy? Can I buy one of these off him? Does he do custom orders, maybe?”

Normally, your manager is more than happy to play along with your jokes, but today Kyunghee fixes you with an uncharacteristically serious look. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?” she asks. “He’s coming to the holiday party, after all. I figured you could finally meet.”

You blink. Kyunghee has been making offhand remarks about how well you would get on with her son, Hoseok, for over a year now, but you’ve never even come close to broaching the topic of meeting him. You don’t even know anything about the man beyond the fact that his name is Hoseok and that he works somewhere downtown. He also favors tall socks and yellow suspenders if the framed photograph on Kyunghee’s desk is any indication—or at least, he certainly did when he was still in diapers. Whether he still does, is anyone’s guess.

“Wow, I had no idea he was even interested in coming,” you manage when you’ve recovered from your surprise. “Did you bribe him?”

If Kyunghee notices that your voice is a few pitches higher than usual, she doesn’t remark on it. “Oh, you know. I just told him that this would be his last chance to score free booze on the company’s dime.” She laughs. “Three more months and it’s going to be all beaches and sunshine for me. I might even become a cruise person in my retirement.”

You gasp and slap a hand to your heart. “Kyunghee! Think of the environmental impact!”

“I said I might!” she retorts immediately. “Sheesh. Even in my old age, it’s hard to conveniently forget how shitty and unsustainable those damn boats are.”

You pick up your mug and raise it in a salute. “Well, the oceans thank you.”

“My husband doesn’t,” she answers with a sigh. “He’s been dying to book one of those trips that stop all along the Mediterrannean coastline, and I can’t exactly blame him.”

“That is tempting,” you admit. “You’ll have to send photos, if you do end up going.”

“You’ll be sick of me and my photos before the first day is even up,” she promises. Then she pauses, her eyes darting toward the kitchen where silence has fallen in the last few minutes. “Speaking of being sick—you think the vultures are still hovering around in there? I haven’t had lunch yet, and I need the microwave.”

Obligingly, you edge a little closer to the kitchen doorway and poke your head around the frame, scanning for Lottie and her sidekicks. “Coast is clear. Enjoy your lunch, Kyunghee.”

She nods and raises her mug at you, returning your salute. “I always do.”

///

As soon as the work day ends, you fall into your usual routine. Your commute home is easily walkable on nicer days, and though the winter weather is brisker than you’d like, you decide to walk for the sake of stopping at the convenience store on the corner of the block.

Once you arrive back at your apartment, you change into your comfiest sweats and a loose tee. You turn on some music while you throw together some dinner, and settle onto the couch half an hour later with a full plate and Netflix. Television is a welcome distraction from the events of the workday, and you manage to get through three full episodes of your current show before your pesky brain decides to revisit the events of today, replaying the conversations that you’d both had and overheard.

There’s no denying that you’ve been single for quite some time now, and for the most part, it’s been by choice. Ever since graduating from university, you’ve chosen to focus more on your career, and it’s paid off both in terms of the important position you hold in your company and your above average salary. And yet, you can’t help but think back to the gossip you’d overheard earlier—about the supposed tragedy of being single and attending the upcoming holiday party alone. Your mind wanders to Kyunghee’s son, Hoseok, and how he’ll be in attendance this year. You wonder what he’s like, and whether he really is perfect for you, as Kyunghee seems to be so fond of mentioning.

And then your mind goes to Jay.

You met Jay two months ago, on a well-deserved night out after a hellish workweek. The bar was crowded, and the music coming from the neon dancefloor in the back was just loud enough to drown out your inhibitions. That, combined with the alcohol swimming through your system, made you bold. You sashayed your way across the dancefloor, dodging inebriated bodies and swaying limbs as you fixed your attention on the head of pale lavender hair and deliciously broad shoulders that awaits you just behind the bar counter. The bartender is nothing short of gorgeous, and you’ve thrown all caution to the wind. Sure, several other women are eyeing him like he’s their next meal—several men are, too—but you need another drink. And while he prepares it, you plan to flirt.

A lot.

The bar counter is sticky with spilled liquor, but you don’t pay that any mind as you lean across it, the wood digging into the narrow strip of exposed skin left by your cropped top. “Hi!” you call, and the bartender looks up from where he’s just finished pouring a round of shots for a group of raucous young men.

“Hi yourself,” he says, his pillowy lips stretching into an easy smile. “What can I get you?”

You pretend not to notice the way his eyes flicker down to the dip of your cleavage and instead put on the sultriest smile you are capable of mustering. “Vodka soda,” you tell him, injecting a bit of purr into your voice. “A bit of lemon too, if you have it.”

“Trust me, I have it,” he assures, his smile growing as he reaches for a clean glass and a clear bottle. “Name’s Jin, by the way. I’m here all night, if you need anything e—”

A loud clatter and the sound of breaking glass interrupts the rest of his sentence, and all eyes at the bar go to the source of the disturbance. Conversations stutter to a halt, and even the thumping bass of the music seems to dull. Jin darts to the other end of the bar, where you can see that one of several barstools has fallen to the ground. There’s a man on the ground as well, surrounded by shattered glass and spilled dark liquor, and your eyes widen when you realize that you know him.

And arguably, a little too well.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. People are starting to lose interest in the spectacle, turning back to their own conversations and continuing on as if nothing had happened at all. The man is beginning to clamber to his feet, and a few people lend a helping hand as Jin begins barking out orders for everyone to step back so he can sweep up the broken glass. You seize upon the opportunity, latching on to the nearest arm and pulling them close so you can hide behind them. Vaguely, you’re aware of them sputtering in surprise, but you only have eyes for the man who had fallen off his stool, watching him carefully as he brushes himself off and tries to play it cool despite the sizable patch of whiskey soaking his white shirt.

“Hey, uh…” Your human shield is speaking. “Are you okay? You’re squeezing me pretty tight.”

That draws you out of your daze. Abashed, you loosen your grip on his arm and look up into his face, your throat going dry when you realize how handsome he is. His black hair is parted over his forehead, a stray strand falling into warm brown eyes set above a straight nose and an inviting mouth. There’s a freckle above his top lip, just shy of the center, and your inebriated brain wonders just what it would be like to kiss it.

“I, um—” You clear your throat and try again. “Sorry about that. I just didn’t want him to see me.”

Your newfound companion raises an eyebrow and glances over his shoulder at the drunk man, who is now being ushered out of the bar by his buddies. “You know that guy?”

You nod, cringing. “Yeah, his name’s Trent. I… may or may not have dated him for a few months last year.”

The man laughs out loud. “You dated a Trent?”

“What, like you’ve never made a questionable life choice?” you challenge. “Besides, you shouldn’t judge someone based on the sins of their parents. It’s not his fault they gave him a terrible name.”

“Sure, but it is on him for going along with it,” he replies with a shrug. “I would’ve changed my name as soon as I could if my parents had named me Trent. But hey, that’s just one man’s opinion.”

You laugh. “Okay then, Not-Trent.” Relinquishing your grip on his arm, you let your fingers graze his hand before pulling away entirely. “What do you say we continue this conversation over a drink?”

The man, whose name is decidedly not Trent, catches your fingers in his and gives them a gentle squeeze. “Happily.”

One drink turns into two, and then three. By the end of the hour, you are feeling pleasantly warm, the alcohol spreading through your veins like molasses and turning your surroundings into a hazy blur. The music has grown even louder, pounding against your eardrums, and you grab onto Not-Trent’s wrist as he sets his now-empty glass back down onto the counter.

“Do you wanna get out of here?” you ask, raising your voice to be heard over the thumping bassline. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

“The parking lot’s out back,” he suggests. “Why don’t we get some air?”

You nod and stand up on wobbly legs, cursing your decision to wear heels when you stumble into your companion. He steadies you with a gentle but firm hand, and you don’t miss the way his touch lingers on your lower back, his palm warm through the material of your blouse.

Together, the two of you pick your way through the throng of swaying bodies on the dancefloor. The bassline thuds in your ears, dark and hypnotic, and you can feel the reverberations thrumming across the slats of your ribs and echoing in the cavern of your chest like a second heartbeat.

It’s almost a relief, then, when you step out into the cool night air. Your ears continue to ring for a few seconds, but it soon fades and leaves behind only the muted hum of traffic from the street and the faint sound of music from inside. At your side, Not-Trent releases a long breath and leans against the brick wall of the building, and you turn to take in the steep slopes of his side profile as he tilts his head up toward the velvety night sky.

He’s handsome. Dressed in ripped jeans and black leather, he’s a sight to behold, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been craving a bit of intimacy for quite some time now. The alcohol swimming through your system makes you bolder than you normally would be, and you reach out to lay a hand on his arm. He turns toward you with a silent question glimmering in his irises, but you simply step closer, until you’re pinning him against the wall with your body and you’re breathing the same air.

“Hey,” you say, your voice an airy whisper. His eyes are near obsidian in the dimness of the parking lot, illuminated only by the orange glow of the streetlamps on either end, and your gaze flickers down to his mouth before roving to the freckle that sits upon his top lip. “Kiss me?”

Your companion’s eyes widen. His lips part, but no words come out, and you’re about to repeat your question when he finally finds his voice again.

“That’s really… that’s not a good idea.” Awkwardly, he clears his throat, but the hoarseness of his voice and the harsh bob of his Adam’s apple give away his true desires. “Look, you’ve been drinking. We both have, and—”

You cut him off, pushing up to your tiptoes and planting a messy kiss to the soft dip just beneath his bottom lip. “Don’t care,” you mumble against his skin. “I want you.”

Your companion laughs weakly. His hands find their way to your waist and pause there, as if he can’t decide whether to push you away or pull you closer. “You don’t even know me,” he murmurs.

“I don’t have to know you,” you reply. Your fingers drag down his chest, trailing along the delicate silver necklace that rests against the black of his shirt. From the chain hangs a round pendant, the surface engraved with the letter J. Slowly, you trace it with a fingertip, the metal shining even in the dim light, and satisfaction blooms in your heart when your companion’s throat bobs again. “I want you,” you breathe, soft but insistent. “Isn’t that enough?”

“I—” He clears his throat and tries again, and you wonder if he realizes that his hands have slid down to your hips, or that there’s a growing hardness against your lower stomach that’s becoming increasingly harder to ignore. “Look, I’m flattered—really, I am. And you’re… I mean, fuck, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t think we should do anything when you’re clearly not in the right frame of mind to be making this kind of decision, and—”

“And, nothing.” You wind your arms around his neck, pressing close and grinding subtly against the bulge in his pants. You smirk when he releases a low hiss from between his teeth, and hide it by laying a trail of kisses along the stretch of bare skin exposed by the dip of his collar. “Stop being such a gentleman,” you whisper. Your fingers trail down his chest, past the silver of his pendant and down to the faded denim of his jeans, teasing at the cool metal of his belt buckle. “I want this. But if you’re not interested, I can always go back in there and—”

The rest of your sentence dies in your throat. Your companion has tugged you flush against him in one smooth motion, and your gasp is cut off by the firm press of his mouth against yours. Immediately, you melt into the kiss, and a moan tears from your lips when he spins you around and pins you against the brick wall of the building.

“You’re a spoiled little thing, huh?” His breath fans hot against your cheeks, and you shiver when you meet his eyes and see the dark promise reflected there. “Used to getting what you want, huh, princess?”

Your breath hitches at the endearment—something your companion doesn’t miss. “Oh, you like that?” He chuckles hoarsely, and when he speaks again it’s in a rasp that sends heat straight to your core. “What else do you like, hmm? You want me to be rough with you, princess? Or should I be gentle and treat you like a queen?”

You reach up, raking your fingers through his hair and skimming across the soft strands of his undercut before finding purchase at his nape. “You talk too much,” you whisper.

And then you’re crushing your mouth back against his, whining when he immediately takes back control of the kiss. His grip slides downward, his fingertips digging into the skin just above the curve of your ass, and you squeak when he grabs the back of your thigh and hooks your leg around his waist.

“You feel that?” he rasps into your ear, nipping at the delicate shell and chortling when you keen. Your skirt has ridden up dangerously high on your spread thighs, and you let out a soft whimper when he grinds harshly against your center. The lace of your panties and the denim of his jeans are the last barricades between you, and you wonder, vaguely, whether your companion has a bit of an exhibitionist streak when he slides one of your sleeves down your shoulder and begins kissing a trail down to the swell of your cleavage. “You feel how hard you’ve gotten me?”

You lean down, kissing the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear before letting your teeth graze against his skin. “Why don’t you do something about it then?”

He hisses out a sharp breath, his hands tightening their hold on your hips. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you, huh? I can’t wait to make you eat your words.”

Any retort you may have had is interrupted by a sudden swell of music and the sound of a slamming door. Whirling to face the source of the noise, you immediately spot a familiar head of lavender hair atop broad shoulders encapsulated in the black uniform of the bar. Jin hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, his attention fixated on his cell phone screen, but he looks up when you let out a little squeak of surprise and shove your companion’s chest in an attempt to create some distance between you.

“Hey.” Jin raises a hand in greeting, a knowing smirk curling his lips. “This phone call shouldn’t be too long, so please. Don’t stop the party on my behalf.”

Heat floods to your cheeks. There isn’t much use protesting against his insinuation, considering the rather compromising position you’re in. Much to your relief, though, your companion simply huffs out a chuckle and waves Jin off. “Thanks, man, but we’ll get out of your hair.” Lowering his voice, he turns back to you. “Coming, princess?”

You nod. He offers you his hand, and you take it gratefully, adjusting your skirt so that it drapes properly over your hips and thighs again.

“Have a good night!” Jin calls after you, amusement lacing every word. You can’t work up the nerve to respond, and luckily, you don’t have to. Your companion leads you around the corner of the building, where several rows of cars are parked beneath an orange streetlamp. On this side, the exterior brick wall is painted with a mural, and you admire the colorful galaxies and nebulae swirling amidst silvery white stars and the word serendipity spray-painted in pale blue.

The last car in the row is parked just beneath the letter Y, and it’s here that your companion stops. The sleek black vehicle has an almost vintage feel to it, and you glance up when you hear the jingle of metal.

“I’m guessing this is yours?”

He nods, pulling a set of keys from the pocket of his leather jacket and inserting one into the lock. “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful,” you tell him, tracing the edge of the passenger window “Makes my car look like a total piece of shit by comparison.”

Your companion chuckles, pulling open the driver’s side door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection in the window as he presses a button to unlock the rest of the doors. Your hair’s a bit of a mess and your mascara has smudged beneath your right eye, and you hurriedly swipe at it as your companion turns his attention back to you.

“So,” he says. “Now what? I can give you a ride home, if you want.”

Deliberately, you let your gaze drop down to his crotch, where his bulge—albeit waning—is still visible. “Seriously? I thought you were going to… what was it again? Make me eat my words?”

And just like that, it’s as if a switch has flipped. His eyes darken to obsidian, his lips settling into a stern line, and you barely have time to draw in a breath before he’s caging you against the side of his car and molding his mouth to yours. Your lips part beneath the onslaught, and he wastes no time in dipping inside to explore, licking into you until you’re both breathless.

“Inside,” he breathes once you’ve broken apart, and you instantly obey. You wrench the door open and all but tumble into the backseat, and he isn’t far behind as he slots himself between your spread thighs. Your hands fly to his shoulders where you help him shuck off his leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the front where it lands in a heap on the dashboard before focusing your attention on the hem of his black t-shirt. Your companion obliges you as you push it upward to expose his toned abdomen, grabbing it by the collar and pulling it off the rest of the way when your reach falls a little short in the cramped interior of the backseat.

“Your turn,” he whispers when you try to reach for his belt, his hands settling around your wrists. “It’s only fair, princess.”

Pouting, you let your hands fall limp in his grasp, and he chuckles as he leans down to pacify you with a kiss. Deft fingers find the hem of your blouse, pushing it up until you can twist out of the material. You throw it aside with no regard for where it lands on the ground, and lay back as your companion drinks you in, his dark gaze raking across the lacy black lingerie that decorates your curves and skims you like a second skin. “Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse with a combination of amazement and disbelief. “You’re stunning.”

You smile, trailing a fingertip from the dip of his collarbone down to the silver necklace that sits prettily against his bare chest. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you tell him, tracing the letter engraved into his pendant. “Jay.”

Your companion—newly dubbed Jay—smiles back. “You’re something else, princess,” he murmurs, before leaning down to kiss you again. He explores your mouth thoroughly—languidly—before moving down to nip at your neck, and already, you can feel the beginnings of marks beginning to form, blossoming across your skin as irrefutable proof of your tryst.

It isn’t long before Jay frees you from your bra, watching with carnal fascination as your breasts spill out of the lacy material. You whine when he reaches out to cup one, his palm hot against your bare skin, and he smirks crookedly when a pinch to your nipple makes your back arch off the leather of the seat. “So pretty,” he rasps. “I can’t wait to see how you look stretched around my cock.”

“Stop waiting, then,” you tell him, trying again for his belt buckle. This time, he lets you fumble it open, leaning back to watch you work with hooded eyes and a lazy little smile. Emboldened, you push aside the denim of his jeans and free his cock from the confines of his underwear. He’s hard and hot and heavy in your palm, and your tongue darts out instinctively at the sight of the pearlescent precum beading the tip.

“Jay,” you murmur, thumbing across the head of his erection and smirking when he hisses in pleasure. “Fuck me.”

Jay seems to consider your demand, mischief flitting across his features before he manages to school his expression into something more neutral. “Where are your manners, princess?” he asks, pushing your hand away and giving himself a few long, slow strokes. “Say please, if you want it so bad.”

For a moment, you consider refusing. Jay seems to be the type of man who enjoys a good game, but between the state of his cock and the earlier interruption, you’re pretty sure he’s nearing his limit. And even if he isn’t, you are. And so, you shelve your pride for the time being, and trail a hand down the length of your bared body as you bat your lashes up at him. “Fuck me, Jay,” you repeat. “Please. Want your cock so bad.”

His answering smile is equal parts amusement and satisfaction, and altogether sinful. “That’s my girl,” he rasps, before shoving your panties aside. Lining the head of his cock up, he enters you in one smooth thrust, and you moan as your walls stretch to accommodate his girth. You’re more than wet enough to take him in his entirety, your eyes fluttering shut when he bottoms out, and he groans hoarsely as he takes a second to relish the feeling of your walls gripping him so tightly.

“Fuck. You’re so wet, princess.” Jay dips a thumb into your slick, spreading it across your clit and rubbing a few experimental circles around the sensitive nub. He groans when you clench around him, his hips stuttering, and you squeeze around him again just to hear him grit out another curse. “Shit. I’m not going to last long at this rate.”

“Don’t care,” you murmur, rocking against him and sighing when the motion sends him a little deeper into your core. “Just fuck me, Jay. Please.”

Jay leans in, a dark lock of hair falling across his forehead as he plants an indulgent kiss on your waiting mouth. “Anything for you, princess,” he breathes. Slowly, he pulls back until only the tip of his cock remains inside you. Then he’s slamming forward, and you can’t even find it in yourself to care about the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin or the way the car rocks. Jay’s thumbing across your clit in tight circles that he times perfectly with the rock of his hips, and you wonder whether the rapidly building pleasure in your belly is due to your dry spell or if he’s just that good. You can feel every inch of him as he fills you up repeatedly, his brows furrowed in concentration and his dark hair flopping as he drives deeper in search of the spot that will have you seeing stars.

You know he’s found it when the pleasure in your belly spikes, your back arching off the backseat. Your skin is sticky against the dark leather and you’re certain the sweat gathering at your temples has destroyed the last of your makeup, but Jay alleviates your concerns with a particularly well-timed thrust and a harsh nip to the soft spot at your clavicle. You keen out something unintelligible, and his lips stretch into a smirk against your skin.

“That’s it,” he encourages. “Cum for me, princess.”

That’s all it takes for the mounting pressure to snap. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, the pleasure flaring out like a supernova and spreading through your veins like wildfire. “F-fuck, Jay—” you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at his back for purchase and no doubt leaving scratches in their wake. “Fuck, you feel so—”

The remainder of your words trail off into garbled nonsense, and Jay huffs out a strained chuckle as he begins chasing after his own orgasm, rutting against you in a way that both prolongs your pleasure and sustains his own. “Shit,” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut. “Fuck, that’s it. Look at you—taking my cock so well. So pretty and perfect and—”

Whatever he was going to say dissolves into a groan as he gives a few more erratic thrusts before his release overwhelms him. Creamy warmth floods through you, and you rub his back tiredly as his head drops onto your shoulder, his breath flaring hot against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

It takes several long seconds for the pleasure to recede. Your legs are still shaky when Jay pulls away, straightening up and tucking himself back into his jeans. There’s an empty ache in your core now that you are no longer stuffed full of his cock, and already, you are missing the feeling. Still, you push that aside as you sit up, adjusting your panties and wincing at the wetness that soaks the material and sticks to your skin.

“So,” Jay says after a moment’s silence, and you glance over at him when he huffs out a short chuckle. “That was fun.”

“Not bad at all,” you agree weakly, an irrepressible smile tugging at your lips.

Jay grins. It’s a bright, infectious grin—and it’s one that you’ve already grown rather fond of in the short period of time you’ve known him. It’s a grin that showcases his perfect teeth and crinkles his eyes into crescents, and one that all but forces you to grin back.

“Here, give me your phone,” he says, and you watch as he punches in his number once you hand it over. “Just in case you ever wanna do this again,” he tells you, handing it back. “Don’t be a stranger, princess.”

You glance down at his contact information, saved under the moniker you’d given him and affixed with a short string of emojis. “I won’t,” you tell him, chuckling. “In fact, I just might take you up on the offer.”

The screen of your laptop has long since gone dark, and you stretch your arms overhead before waking it again. Rolling your shoulders, you navigate back to the main Netflix menu, hovering over the resume button and watching the trailer loop in the background.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about Jay often. You’ve texted each other quite often since that night in his car—usually when you’re bored and alone and have had a few too many glasses of wine in the evenings. You’ve found yourself tapping on his name instinctively during those odd, ambiguous hours—when late night and early morning meld together and you’re aching for a bit of relief.

And as if he knows you’re thinking about him, your phone buzzes against the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a familiar name.

[11:22pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinkin about u, pretty girl 😘

It’s followed by an image, and your heart rate picks up, thudding loudly against your ribs as you open it.

Fuck.

Your memories of Jay’s face—made all the more hazy by the alcohol and the amount of time elapsed since your first and only meeting—truly don’t do him justice. Though the photograph cuts off just above his nose, you can still admire the sharp angle of his jaw and the fullness of his puckered lips. His skin is golden against the white of his t-shirt, and you lick your lips before thumbing across your screen to respond.

[11:23pm] You: yeah? what else are you thinking about, hmm?

His response is instantaneous.

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: thinking about that pretty little pussy of yours

[11:23pm] Jay 😘🍆💦: how good it looked in that pic u sent me tuesday 👅

You barely even notice the way your hand begins trailing down your body, pushing aside the elastic waistband of your sweats. It’s as if you’re on autopilot, as your fingers find their way to the damp spot growing on your panties.

Yeah? you write back with your free hand, already teasing at your clothed folds with the other. Tell me more.

///

It’s an uncharacteristically warm Friday morning when you find yourself in the elevator with Jimin, a good friend of yours who works on one of the lower levels of your office building. “Morning,” he says as he steps in, a large iced coffee in hand despite the fact that it’s still very much the middle of winter. Then he squints, leaning a little closer. “Oh my god. You got laid!”

“Oh my god, not so loud!” you hiss, whacking him on the shoulder and jabbing the button to close the elevator doors. “And no, not exactly. I’ve just been texting Jay.”

“Texting, sure.” Jimin mimes air quotes around the word and rolls his eyes. “You’re sexting him, and we all know it. How many pictures of his dick do you have saved on your phone now?”

“Oh my—” You sigh, trailing off. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“Right, of course.” Jimin takes a sip of his coffee and pretends to check his watch. “When would you like to talk about it then? Do you need to check your calendar? Can I book an appointment for later this afternoon?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “Shut up.”

Jimin just grins, his lips puckered around his straw. “So, how’s Jay? Have you asked for his real name yet?”

You shrug. “What’s the point? It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We’ve literally only met the one time.”

“Yeah, but that’s just because you’re a coward,” Jimin points out. “What’s stopping you from meeting up with him again? You have his number. You have at least one photo of his dick. Ask him out already!”

“It’s not that easy, though,” you sigh. The elevator doors open to let a few more people in, and you move to the side and lower your voice so that only Jimin can hear. “Jay—he’s not exactly boyfriend material. I mean, we fucked in his car the first night we met.”

“So?” Jimin frowns and takes another sip of his iced coffee. “You talk about things besides sex, don’t you? You definitely told him about your goldfish dying, at least. I mean, you told him before you even told me!”

“Yes I did, and he was appropriately sympathetic about Mustache’s passing, unlike some people,” you sniff. “Get over it already, won’t you?”

“Never,” Jimin replies, ignoring your pointed jab. “I’m sure you only told him because you knew you could get a sympathy sext out of it. How many dick pics did you get out of that night, anyway?”

“You’re gross,” you tell him, punching him in the arm. “Not to mention that’s exactly why Jay’s not boyfriend material. He’s perfectly happy with—whatever it is we’re doing. I can’t just ruin that by asking him to get dinner.” You frown, gnawing on your bottom lip. “I don’t want to make this into something that it’s not.”

Jimin hesitates. “Fine, okay. I guess I can understand that.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as the elevator makes a few more stops. You watch the numbers crawl higher, and know that you’ll soon have to part ways with your friend..

“Hey.” You nudge Jimin with your shoulder, just as the elevator doors close and you begin the ascent to his floor. “Wanna know something interesting?”

Jimin looks up from his phone, where he’s scrolling through Twitter. “Always.”

“My boss’ son is coming to the party tomorrow.”

Jimin’s eyebrows disappear into his ashy blond hair at your revelation. “Kyunghee’s son? Hoseok, or whatever?”

You chuckle. “The one and only. She’s found about a million ways to bring him up in conversation this past week. She thinks we’re a match made in heaven.”

“Wow.” Jimin releases a long breath. “I wonder what he’s like, then.”

You shrug, adjusting the strap of your work tote over your shoulder. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

///

The morning of the party, you wake up to an empty refrigerator. Half stale cereal and the last dregs of milk from the carton become your breakfast, and you munch on that as you mull over the contents of your closet. You’re still in your pajamas, but you pull out your comfiest jeans and a sweater to change into after you finish eating. Then you turn to your collection of dresses, rifling through them and mentally debating the merits of each material and color.

You could go in one of two directions tonight. On the one hand, this is still a work party, and as such your attire should probably maintain a certain level of decorum. But on the other, you’re meeting Hoseok Jung for the first time tonight. You aren’t necessarily looking to start anything with the man, of course, but you do want to look good. With that in mind, you eventually settle on a deep red number that you pull out of the very back of your closet, made of a silky material that skims your curves and accentuates your best assets. Laying it on the bed, you begin your hunt for a pair of matching shoes. Twenty minutes of searching and another five of agonizing later, you step into the bathroom, intent on showering and getting on with the rest of your day.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you decide that tackling the state of your refrigerator takes top priority over your other weekend errands. Sitting down at the dining table, you take stock of what you have in your pantry, planning out your meals for the upcoming week and making a list of what you need to purchase in order to make them a reality. It’s just after one in the afternoon when you exit your apartment with a completed grocery list and your purse stuffed full of reusable canvas bags. The store is a short walk from where you live, and you decide to put in your earbuds as your feet navigate the familiar route. The temperature is surprisingly mild for winter, and the sun shines bright from its perch in the cloudless blue sky. It’s perfect weather for a walk, and the fresh air clears your mind and eases your heart.

At the grocery store, you forego the stack of baskets and instead grab a shopping cart. Weaving your way up and down the aisles, you check items off the list on your phone one by one. Eventually, you find yourself in the cereal section, grabbing a box of granola before turning to where your favorite cereal normally sits. It isn’t there, and you turn in a full circle, confused, until your gaze finally lands on the familiar box on the top shelf.

Great.

Sighing, you push up to your tiptoes, stretching your arm as far as it can reach. Your fingertips graze the shelf, but you can’t quite get a grip on the box itself. Glancing down, you scan the bottommost shelf and wonder if you can step on it to give yourself a boost.

“Need a hand?”

The voice comes from behind you, and a vague sense of familiarity sparks in your brain. Slowly, you turn around, and your entire body freezes when your gaze slides up to the speaker’s face.

“Jay.” The syllable escapes you in a near whisper. “H-hi.”

“Hey.”

Jay stands before you, looking like sin incarnate in a faded denim jacket, black sweatpants slung low on his hips, and not much else. At his throat, his silver necklace sparkles, the silver J pendant glinting beneath the fluorescent lights of the store, and you’re suddenly beyond grateful that you decided to put on a decent sweater before leaving.

“Here,” he says, stepping forward until he’s close enough that you can smell his cologne—sandalwood tinged with sweet citrus. “Let me help you with that.”

The sudden proximity has your breath hitching in your throat. Your heart thuds erratically against your ribs as he reaches around you, the denim flaps of his jacket gaping in a way that exposes even more of his bare chest. By the time he pulls back with your cereal box in hand, you feel almost faint, belatedly realizing that you’d been holding your breath.

“You wanted this, right?” Jay asks, and you aren’t sure if you’re imagining the innuendo underlying his words or the teasing inflection of the syllables.

“Y-yeah, that’s the one,” you manage, fighting to quell the uneven tempo of your heartbeat as you accept the box. “Thanks.”

“Happy to help,” he replies. Then he leans in, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fanning your cheek as he murmurs his next sentence into your ear. “Anything for you, princess. You know that.”

Heat floods across your cheeks. Your heart skips two full beats before taking off into a sprint, and it’s impossible to ignore the way your core begins to thrum, as if anticipating a repeat of that night you first met all those weeks ago. Almost instinctively, your eyes dart up to the ceiling where the security cameras are, and Jay follows the trajectory of your gaze with a low chuckle and a soft brush of your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“Sorry, princess. As much as I’d love to get my hands on you, I’m kind of on a time crunch today.”

You can’t stop the wave of disappointment that washes over you, even if you’re in the exact same boat. “Rain check, then?”

“Rain check,” he agrees. Slowly, you reach up to touch the engraved silver pendant resting against his chest, rubbing it between your fingertips before tracing the curve of the J, and he catches your wandering fingers between his and presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

“You know how to reach me,” he murmurs with a mischievous wink. His gaze lingers even after he’s released your hand, and you clear your throat awkwardly before turning to deposit your cereal box into your shopping cart.

The two of you go your separate ways then, exchanging goodbyes. You finish the rest of your grocery shopping in a daze, idly going through the motions at checkout and letting muscle memory guide you back home. Your arms are aching by the time you step past the threshold of your apartment, and you heave your shopping bags up onto the kitchen counter with a relieved sigh before returning to the entryway to toe off your shoes. You throw together a sandwich as you unpack your groceries, taking a big bite as you walk back to your bedroom to look at the dress you’ve picked out. Pacing over to the closet, you double-check your shoe choice. Briefly, you debate whether or not to wear flats instead of heels.

There are still a few hours left before you have to start getting ready, so you take the last of your sandwich back to the kitchen and whip up a smoothie to go with it. You scroll through your phone as you eat, browsing through the latest news headlines and scrolling through your social media accounts. Just before six o’clock, as the sun starts setting beyond the horizon and casting long shadows across your living room, you start getting changed. You snap a photo in the mirror once you’re dressed, pulling up Jimin’s name in your phone and sending it to him.

[6:13pm] You: last chance to come tonight

Your phone buzzes with a response almost immediately.

[6:14pm] Jimin: nah. i’d hate to step on hoseok’s toes.

You laugh. Not so fast, you text back. We don’t even know anything about the guy yet. What if he’s boring? Or sexist?

[6:15pm] Jimin: if u think kyunghee raised a sexist you’re seriously deranged

[6:16pm] Jimin: now stop taking selfies and get your ass out the door! you’re gonna be late!!!!

///

Each year, the holiday party tends to be a little over the top, and this year is no exception. The company has bought out the entirety of a restaurant for the evening, and you glance around in amazement at the twinkling lights and lush evergreen boughs decorating the walls and strung up along the ceiling. An assortment of sparkling ornaments hangs from the massive tree in the far corner, interspersed between silver tinsel and more lights. Grabbing a champagne flute off a passing server’s tray, you head farther into the restaurant, skirting around tables draped in creamy linen and greeting your colleagues and friends.

“Is she alone?”

“Figures.”

The voices come from the direction of the open bar, and somehow, you just know that they’re talking about you. Lottie, Hyejin, and Sandra are clustered in the corner with glasses of wine in hand, casting glances around the restaurant and gossiping about anything and everything with a pulse. You’re sorely tempted to grab the nearest pitcher of water off a table and pour it over their heads, but you suppress the urge and instead head over with a saccharine smile. “So lovely to see you, {Name},” Lottie says as you approach.

“I love your dress,” Sandra adds. “Very slimming.”

“Thanks,” you reply, putting on your brightest, fakest smile. “Yours is great too. How are you and your husband enjoying the party so far?”

Sandra’s face sours, and you hide your smirk in your champagne flute. Maybe it’s petty to bring up her rocky relationship, but you’ve been subject to snide comments from Sandra and her friends for years now and it’s become increasingly hard for you to bite your tongue. A few tables away, you spot Sandra’s husband, Rodney, take an enormous gulp of his whiskey and wince as it burns down his throat.

“We’re all having a wonderful time, aren’t we, ladies?” Lottie cuts in when Sandra takes too long to answer. “Hyejin’s date is over there with Rodney, and my boyfriend is fetching himself a drink. You remember Dev, don’t you?”

You nod, even though it’s a lie. “Sure. Say hi to him for me.”

Lottie’s lips curve up into a smile, her head tilting to the side, and you’re suddenly reminded of a snake rearing its head back for the kill. “So, what about you? Have you brought someone tonight, or—?”

“Hi ladies!” Kyunghee materializes at your side, her lips painted a festive red shade to match her dress. She’s wearing the disingenuous smile that she reserves for the resident gossips of your office, and you try not to let your relief show on your face when Lottie’s attention refocuses on your manager.

“So good to see you, Kyunghee,” she simpers. “Have you been here long?”

“Not as long as you,” your manager replies, nodding at the near-empty wineglass in her hand. “I see we’re already making a dent in the wine supply, and you’re falling behind, {Name}. Why don’t we go remedy that, hmm?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, grabbing your arm and leading you away. Kyunghee is surprisingly spry for a woman her age, and you follow after her with some difficulty as she marches through the throngs of conversing people, all the way to the line at the open bar.

“I’d like you to meet someone,” she says, gesturing at the man standing at the end of the line with his back to you. “{Name}, this is my son, Hoseok.”

The man turns around at the sound of his name, a warm, affable smile stretched across his face. “Hi, I’m H—” he begins, but he’s cut off by your sharp intake of breath. His eyes go wide, his smile fading as his mouth falls open, and you’re certain you’re wearing an even more dumbfounded expression. “It’s you,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“Wh-what… how…” You trail off, speechless. The words flounder and die in your throat as your brain struggles to process this development, and you practically feel the way the gears in your head churn to a stuttering halt.

Because this man standing before you, the one that Kyunghee has just introduced as her son, is none other than Jay. He looks completely and utterly devastating in a navy waistcoat and matching slacks, a green tie shaped like a Christmas tree knotted loosely around the white collar of his shirt. His dark hair is parted, his undercut exposed, and you can’t tear your gaze away from the loose strand that has fallen across his forehead.

“H-hi.”

Jay—Hoseok—swallows. “Hi.”

Kyunghee glances between the two of you, her brows furrowing. “I take it you two already know each other?”

Hoseok’s ears begin taking on a scarlet tinge, the color spreading to his cheeks as he struggles to find his vocabulary again. “I—yeah. Yeah, we’ve met.”

“Right. Do I even want to know how?” she asks dubiously, before shaking her head and huffing out a sigh. “No, forget I asked. I don’t want to know. I’ll just leave you two to… catch up.”

Waving goodbye, Kyunghee disappears back into the crowd of partygoers milling around. Hoseok turns back to you, sucking in a deep breath, and you fight the urge to stare down at your toes as his gaze roves across your face.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, breaking the silence that’s fallen between you at last. “My mom’s been talking about you for months, but I never imagined that it’d be you.”

“You’re telling me,” you reply, finally having recovered your voice. “Kyunghee brings you up all the time, but I never thought… I mean, we didn’t even know each other’s names, and now…” You shrug. “Here we both are.”

“It’s a pretty crazy coincidence, huh?”

“Definitely.”

A beat passes, and then two. You’re fully aware that you’re staring, but you don’t dare blink, afraid that he’ll disappear if you close your eyes. Of all the things that you thought might happen tonight, this particular meeting wasn’t even close to making the list. Never would you have thought that the man you only knew as Jay would turn out to be Kyunghee’s son. Never would you have connected Jay to the photographed little boy in yellow suspenders on Kyunghee’s desk, or realized that they were one and the same.

From behind you, someone loudly clears their throat. Another voice calls for you to get a move on, already, and both you and Hoseok belatedly realize that you are still standing in line for the open bar. Hoseok’s eyes go wide again, and you nearly tread on his toes when you both try to move forward. “After you,” he says with a chuckle, gesturing for you to go in front of him, and that’s enough to break the tension. You step ahead of him with a laugh, catching up to the line, and Hoseok doesn’t stray far as he follows your lead.

“So, what are you drinking?” he asks, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “Vodka soda with a twist?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to stick with wine tonight,” you reply, peering at the bottles lined up on the counter. “What about you?”

“Hmm. Jack and coke, I think. Nothing else is really calling my name right now.”

Grabbing your drinks, the two of you begin searching for a place to sit. You spot Kyunghee at a table near the front, and she smiles knowingly and offers you a thumbs-up when she catches your eye. Eventually, you settle on a table near the Christmas tree, the lights glimmering off the glasses and reflecting off your knife as you pick it up to butter a slice of crusty bread from the basket in the center. Hoseok follows your lead, grabbing a piece for himself, and the two of you munch in silence for a few seconds before Hoseok breaks it.

“You know, my mom says you’re the perfect girl for me” he says with a dry little chuckle. “Think she’s right?”

“I don’t know,” you answer. “It’s funny, though—Kyunghee’s been telling me the same thing. She sings your praises all the time.”

Hoseok laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “Oh, jeez, that’s kind of embarrassing. I’m glad she’s saying good things, at least.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you tell him, grinning. “She’s only shown us one photo album from your childhood.”

His face crumples. “Was it the Disneyland one?”

You nod, fighting back laughter, and watch as Hoseok groans and lets his forehead meet the linen-covered tabletop with a dull thunk.

“I don’t like rollercoasters,” he mumbles into the tablecloth, his voice muffled by the material. “They make me queasy.”

“Even now?” you ask, and he nods.

“Yep.”

The clinking of a fork against a wineglass—amplified and broadcast through an array of invisible speakers built into the restaurant’s walls—interrupts any further conversation. You twist in your seat to watch your company’s leadership give their opening remarks, listening as they congratulate everyone for a great year and wish you a happy holiday season. The servers begin going out with plates of food, and you thank them as they set yours down. Hoseok does the same before raising his glass in your direction, clearing his throat and offering you a crooked little smile.

“Here’s to second meetings.”

“Third, if you count the store earlier,” you correct, and he chuckles and nods in agreement before clinking his drink against yours.

You spend the entirety of dinner chatting with Hoseok, getting to know him beyond the few facts Kyunghee has mentioned and what little you’ve gleaned from texting him the last two months. He tells you all about his dance studio, Hope World, where he teaches both contemporary dance and the occasional Pilates class. You find out that in addition to rollercoasters, he also dislikes sour foods and raisins, but he loves mint chocolate and sweet and sour pork. He also has a very low tolerance for alcohol—something he tells you as he tilts the rest of his drink into his mouth. “Should I be worried?” you ask as he sets his glass back down, and he chuckles and shakes his head, sending the loose tendril of hair flopping across his forehead.

Dessert is served, and subsequently eaten. The music is turned up, and people slowly begin finding their way to the open space that serves as an impromptu dancefloor. Hoseok rises to his feet and extends a hand toward you, and you only hesitate for the briefest of seconds before accepting it. He leads you out amongst the other swaying couples, his hand finding its way to the curve of your waist, and you rest your hand on his shoulder as he begins guiding you in a slow, simple waltz.

“So?” Hoseok’s voice is a low murmur, soft and gentle against the shell of your ear. “What’s the verdict?”

You blink. “The verdict?”

Even without looking, you can tell that he’s smiling. You can hear it in the lilt of his voice, and imagine it in the curve of his lips. “About me,” he clarifies, carefully pulling back so you can spin in a circle beneath his outstretched arm. “About us. My mom will never let me hear the end of it if she turns out to be right, but I still wanna know. So what are you thinking?”

“Are you asking if I think we’re perfect for each other?” you ask, giggling. “I don’t know if I believe in all that, to be quite honest. Destiny and soulmates—I mean, doesn’t it seem a little too good to be true?”

Hoseok hums. “Maybe. But considering all that’s happened to us in the last couple of months, don’t you think there’s a chance that it's all more than simple coincidence?”

“Maybe,” you concede. “Still, I don’t know if I can give you a verdict just yet. We haven’t even gone on a date.”

“We did do things a little backwards,” Hoseok admits, tugging you close and winding his arm around your waist. “Let me make it up to you, then. Are you free tomorrow?”

“What if I am?” you challenge.

“Then, I’d like to take you out for breakfast,” he replies without missing a beat.

The prospect of a proper meal with Hoseok Jung does something funny to your insides. Still, something makes you hesitate, and you avert your gaze as you search for your next words. “I wasn’t expecting to end tonight with a date,” you admit slowly. “I honestly didn’t even think you were interested in… well, anything beyond sex, to be honest.”

Hoseok’s face creases into a frown, and you look up again when he murmurs your name. “I understand why you would think that,” he says. “Really, I do. But honestly? I had every intention of texting you and asking you out properly. I was going to play it cool and wait a few days, which was stupid in retrospect. And then you texted me first.”

“I texted y—” You trail off. “Oh, god.”

“It seemed like you’d been drinking,” Hoseok says with a shrug, and you press a finger to his lips before he can say anything more. You remember the night in question, and you remember the bottle of wine you’d consumed. And you definitely remember the photographs you’d sent of yourself, and the ones Hoseok had been kind enough to send in return.

“Wait, so you were going to ask me out? And then I… I sexted you?”

Hoseok nods, and you groan and bury your face into his chest.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, and you feel laughter rumble through his chest before a hand comes up to stroke along your back.

“Believe me, I’m not complaining,” he assures you. “But I’d still really like to take you out, so what do you say?”

His gaze doesn’t leave yours for a second as he awaits your answer, and your heart skips a beat when you look up to see the earnestness in his eyes and the hesitant smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” you whisper, and the smile that blossoms on your companion’s face is nothing short of radiant.

“Good,” he says. “Great. Breakfast tomorrow, then. Now, can I kiss you?”

You’re already pushing up to your tiptoes, your fingers fisting in the soft hair at his nape. “God, yes.”

///

“Hey, you made it!”

You beam. “Hi.”

You and Hoseok are about to commence your first date, having just sat down at a cozy little café for breakfast. Hoseok has pulled your chair out in true gentlemanly fashion, and you can’t help but smile over your menu at the few lingering snowflakes that have yet to melt into his dark hair.

“So, here we are,” you remark. “Our fourth meeting.”

Hoseok’s lips stretch into his signature grin, breathtakingly bright and infectious. “And hopefully many more.”

You grin at him. “Yeah? Too bad this is breakfast, because I’d drink to that.”

He leans forward, his grin widening. “Next time,” he says as his hand finds its way around yours, his fingers slotting comfortably into the spaces between your own. “We can do dinner, maybe. Or I can cook for you. But for now, I’m just happy that we’re finally doing this.”

You give his hand a soft squeeze. “Me too.”

“Just promise me one thing?”

The sudden seriousness of his tone has your brow furrowing in concern. “Sure, of course,” you reassure. “What is it?”

He winces. “Please don’t tell my mom about all the dick pics.”

#hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts scenarios #hoseok scenarios #jhope #jung hoseok #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fic #kpop scenarios #hoseok x you #strangers to lovers!au #strangers to lovers #lia writes #gonna change that stupid summary if i can think of anything better LOL #my brain went all mushy on me idk what's happening

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shurisneakers · 3 years

Text

harmless (x)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, anxiety, smidge of angst, mentions of violence

Word count: 7.8k (i went overboard. clearly.)

A/N: as well all know, i am a humanities student writing science geeks. if any of this sounds unrealistic or nonsensical, it’s because it is and i am honestly too exhausted to research data privacy and AI so here’s my take on how STEM should work i.e. the power of friendship <3 major shoutout to @iamlittlesparkler for the idea for this chapter!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

“As you know, we have a busy week ahead of us.”

Coffees line the conference room table, pens click against the stacks of paper that settle in front of various agents and the smell of deodorant mixed with post-training sweat lingers at the back of the room like a disgusting witch concoction.

“The annual parade is coming up and since there are a few security threats, SHIELD has been asked to step in. Therefore, all of you will be working security this week, possibly even at the parade.” Murmurs broke out in the room the minute this was said; mostly from first year field agents who were way too excited to have earpieces and fingerless gloves.

Bucky, on the other hand, doesn’t think much of it. They’ve dealt with threats before, most were declared empty the minute it got out that SHIELD or the Avengers were involved. It’s the 12th one that year.

“That’s only if we don’t catch it first,” Steve continued. “Our first priority is precaution. The tech and analytics teams are working on it. However, if you see anything suspicious, bring it up with Director Fury. He’s going to be around to make sure we’re not overlooking anything. Do you have any questions?”

More whispers erupted at the mention of Fury’s name. Wait till they realise he lives up to his name when they accidentally manage to set him off just by existing incorrectly.

Bucky smirks at the thought.

“You can leave then.” Steve straightens up as chairs shuffle against the carpeted floor, over twenty people leaving the room.

“And remember, if you see an eagle today, be sure to stand there and thank it on behalf of Steve for its service. Freedom! Liberty! And whatever else,” Tony calls out from the corner of the room, earning a sigh from the captain. Others only snicker as they close the door behind them.

“Thanks.” Steve stares at him stone faced, bemused at the symbolism that had been bestowed upon him.

“Gotta keep the patriotism high.” The only ones that remain are the official team. Bucky thinks that he should have left with the other agents but apparently, it was rude and not a good show of team spirit.

“How serious is this threat anyway?” Clint has his head face down on the table, hand holding his to-go coffee cup so it doesn’t fall over.

“We’re not sure.” Steve finally takes a seat on the chair in front of him. “It’s the biggest event we’ve had this year, wouldn’t put it past them.”

“If it’s those Welsh kids again, I’m gonna punch a hole through their house this time,” Clint warns, voice muffled through the furniture.

“It’s not them, we checked.” Nat had her leg up on the armrest of Clint’s chair. “Tech team’s been working overtime to figure it out.”

“You have anything that could help?” Sam sends a nod towards Tony.

“I got a few things but it’d take a while to put it together.”

“Didn’t you learn quantum physics in a night?” Wanda’s picking apart a cookie into pieces, chewing slowly.

“Thermodynamic astrophysics,” he corrects her. “Quantum science took lesser.”

Bucky scoffs slightly at the brag, eyes still trained on the table in front of him. Maybe if he made no noise, they would forget he’s here.

“Yeah, so this should be a piece’a cake.”

“If your cake was somehow made out of a highly specified tracker that somehow doesn’t violate the data privacy of the entire world while analysing millions of terabytes worth of information, then yeah. A piece of it.”

“What he means to say-” Bruce interjects, “-is that we’re trying. It’s just taking longer than usual.”

“Well, the parade’s this Sunday. Think it’ll be done by then?”

“Hey FRIDAY,” Tony crosses his arm over his chest. “How many hours have I slept this week?��

“Three and a half, boss.”

“How much more will I be getting?”

“From previous experience, about six.”

“Yeah, we can get it done.” Tony looks back at Steve.

“Ask someone on the tech team to help you out.” Everyone was well aware of Tony’s bad coping mechanisms and how futile it was to get him to change his mind about it, but they still tried.

“They’re too busy.” Bruce pressed his lips into a straight line.

Bucky tunes out at this point. If he could help, he would have reluctantly chimed in by now, but he couldn’t.

“So what now?” Sam rips Clint’s doughnut into two, keeping one half for himself while leaving the other to the latter who still hadn’t lifted his head up from the table.

“I actually asked Fury if I could call in an external to come help,” Tony pipes up.

“And he agreed?” Nat raised an eyebrow.

“After he realised I wasn’t going to leave his office until he said yes.” He pulled out his phone, rapidly typing out a message before hitting send. “It didn’t take too long.”

“Do we know this person?” Steve asks a little suspiciously.

“Well-” Bruce sneaks a glance at the broody man on the chair, “-kinda.”

Everyone can tell Bucky isn’t paying attention by the way he’s glaring holes into the plant. He doesn’t mean to, it just so happens that it looks like he wants to kill it. Nobody tends to bother him during meetings, knowing well and fully that he did not care.

“You’re about to.” Tony jumps up, making his way to the door to pull it open.

Bucky perks up. An open door means they can leave, right? He can go watch The Bachelor? He’s not sure what everyone was talking about, but if the meeting was over he could go ask Wanda who was always kind enough to help.

“Our newest recruit,” the billionaire announces, quickly adding the next part, “on a trial basis.”

Bucky looks at the door.

His jaw drops open.

“No,” he says loudly, posture immediately stiff as a plank.

“Hello to you too, Barnes.” You roll your eyes before sending a small wave to everyone else. “Hey everyone.”

“What are you doing here?” He looks like he’s seething.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about our date.” You cross your arms over your chest in defiance. “You told me 3 o’clock, you player.”

“What is she doing here?” He whips to Steve for an answer.

“Hey Y/N,” Sam greets with a smile on his face before Steve can reply.

“Sam Wilson, good to see you again.” You grin.

“Right back at ya, sugar.”

Wanda looks amused, Clint finally lifts his head off the table at the mention of your name while Nat takes her feet off his armrest, and Steve’s body relaxes when he realises what’s going on.

“Okay.” Tony claps his hand. Bucky shoots daggers at him. “As you all know, this is Y/N. She’s going to working with us this week.”

“This is ridi- how did you even find out about her?”

“Aside from the fact that she’s all you talk about?” Clint snorts. Bucky shifts his glare to him. It was bullshit and an exaggeration and Clint was going to get a shoe up his ass very soon.

Your grin only grows bigger.

“We saw one of the repulsors she made some time ago,” Bruce answers his question like the sane person that he is. “Tony’s had her in mind for a while.”

“Repulsors? How on ear-” Bucky connects two and two together before turning to Sam. “You. You got her this job.”

“Sam’s my best wingman.” You send him a small heart made from your hands. Whether the pun was intentional or not, no one would know.

“Don’t look at me, I had nothing to do with this idea.” Sam raised his hands to brush off the blame.

“You’re a villain,” he points out loudly.

“I’m a saint.” You raise your hand to your heart in mock offence. “I have done nothing wrong in my life, ever.”

“Listen, Robocop,” Tony interrupts your conversation, bringing the attention back to him, “I cleared it with Fury. He’s the boss here.”

“Fury doesn’t know-”

“What don’t I know?” The atmosphere of the room changes the minute he saunters in.

With an eyepatch on his face, gaze sharp and a long black coat, Nick Fury puts Bucky’s dark outfits to shame. Not like he was competing.

Bucky doesn’t continue his sentence. Nick’s imposing presence loomed at the doorway, putting a stop to the ridiculous arguments that were beginning to boil. Instead, he looks at you, only to find your attention trained on the man of the hour.

“Nicholas,” you half cheer from where you had shifted to in the middle of all the commotion.

Nicholas?

No one had ever called him Nicholas.

“Y/L/N,” Nick addresses in return. “Been a while.”

“You haven’t come to the lair in months, Nick.” You pout at him. “I even sent you an invite.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows. Since when are you on such good terms with Fury? Since when was anyone on good terms with Fury?

“It must have gotten lost in the mail,” he fires back, “Or maybe it’s because I just happen to be the busiest man in the damn country. Take your pick.”

You roll your eyes, muttering something under your breath, but the good natured smile on your face shows that you didn’t take any of his passive- or straight up- aggressiveness to heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was interrupting your little tea time.” He looks around the rest of the room with an edge in his voice. “Don’t you all have work to do?”

“We do,” Tony interrupts, holding up his hand before pointing to Bruce and you. “Everyone else just sorta sits around and looks pretty.”

“I’m gonna go talk to the organisers, see what spots are most vulnerable.” Steve stands up. “You coming?”

“Yep,” Sam responds, flicking Clint’s shoulder to drag him along. “Come on, man. When was the last time you took a shower?”

“I’ll go see what the kids are up to in training. They’re probably flying off the handle right now.” Natasha brushes off crumbs from her lap. “Barnes, you in?”

Bucky silently shakes his head, eyes focused on you as you introduce yourself to every Avenger who walks out of the room, sharing a small fist bump with Sam.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda volunteers instead, finally leaving behind only the Science Bros, you and Bucky in the room with Fury.

“I’ll give you a tour of the lab.” Tony beckons and you nod, following him. “New eyepatch, Fury? Prada, I assume?”

“Stark,” Nick says curtly.

Bucky stares after you, arms still folded across his chest.

“Any problem, Sergeant?”

Other than the fact that his arch nemesis was now working with his friends, no, not really. But that did seem like a pretty big one.

“No,” Bucky mumbles instead, getting up from his place finally.

Apparently, no one else was worried about the possibly lethal combination of you and Stark, even with Banner there to dilute it.

Fine.

Guess he just has to observe you the whole week.

Well, half a week. It was Wednesday.

He observes inconspicuously over the rim of his coffee cup. He has a newspaper spread in front of him at Bruce’s table.

It’s not suspicious. He’s been there multiple times to sit in silence with the scientist who occasionally tinkers with something while engaging Bucky in tidbits of conversation. He finds it calming, refreshing even

Today he has an agenda. Everyone knows about it too.

“You know he’s staring at you, right?” Bruce looks up briefly from the giant blueprint laid in front of the group.

Tony had been dragged away to get a proper meal into him after he stayed up for 36 hours straight with caffeine keeping his system running.

“He has a tendency to do that.” You’re looking over the plan the three of you had come up with the day before. There were certain changes to be made in terms of efficiency. “Turns out if you annoy him, he stares harder.”

“We’ve heard about the inventions. Inators, he calls them?”

“Yeah,” you point out something on the sheet, drawing a circle around it to come back to later, “only good things I hope?”

“He doesn’t really talk much.” Bruce writes down a small comment against your arrow mark. “But if he hated them, he’d have a lot to say. So I’d take it as a compliment.”

“Would it annoy him if I did?”

“Probably.”

“I’ll take it as a compliment, then. Pass me the ruler?” You draw a line connecting two pieces.

Bucky’s ability to lip read is excellent but he refuses to do it, for privacy purposes. He knew that SHIELD had pulled some strings and had another teacher substituting for your classes the whole week since your other option was to come only after school hours. Anything else about this plan was murky.

“You gonna sit there all day?” Tony looks over his shoulder, following his line of sight.

“I’ve done it before.” He continues to look over the newspaper at you with your finger extended at something on the blueprint as you explained something to Bruce.

“You look like- how do I say this nicely.” He wasn’t going to. “A fuckin’ stalker.”

“I’m supposed to stop her from doing anything evil.”

“Sure.” Tony snorts. “That’s what this is. Should I get you a fedora and sunglasses while we’re at it?”

Of course Stark wouldn’t care; he brought you into this project. It was pretty much impossible to get him to agree with Bucky.

Bucky just narrows his eyes and continues his observation.

The menu of the cafeteria keeps changing. They like to keep things interesting.

Every time they do, Bucky spends too long staring at the menu, trying to figure out what exactly is familiar enough to order. Vietnamese week had him eating pho the entire duration it stayed.

“You plannin’ on eating anytime this century, sarge?” He recognises your voice immediately.

He knows what time your break is and he knows that you generally eat lunch in the cafeteria with the science team. Generally, the three of you pour over solutions and debate points all through the meal, and he spends the time getting acquainted with his new, lowkey Instagram account.

He blocks the Bucky Barnes hashtag the minute he gets an account again. God save his eyes from people asking him to break their back like a glow-stick. However, one afternoon of accidentally watching three cat videos has led to his entire explore page being taken over by them and he’s been trying for three days to get it to stop.

“Just trying to-” he tilts his head. “-understand what I’m reading.”

“Not a big fan of Greek food?” You join him in looking at the menu.

“Never really had the chance to try.” Tony and Bruce don’t seem to be in the room, probably pushing aside their meal to work on it as they’ve often done.

“Ah.” You already had your order in mind but you wait there.

Two minutes later he’s still staring at the menu. He can feel your presence next to him, unmoving. It unnerves him.

“Why are you still standing here?” He cranes his neck to look at you.

“I’m just seeing how long it takes for you to order.” You shrug. “So far it’s been five minutes and forty six seconds. Forty eight now.”

“Go away.” The concept of someone standing beside him, waiting for him to do something reminded him far too much of him trying to bag his stuff at the grocery counter rapidly while other customers waited to pay.

“Six minutes and thirty seconds. This is just sad now.”

“Your face is sad.” It was pathetic that he had now resorted to this.

It earned a laugh from you.

As entertaining as it was to be able to get on his nerves by just standing silently next to him, you finally ask, “Do you want a recommendation?”

He eyes you wearily. “You gonna give me food poisoning?”

“Not today, no.” You shake your head slightly. “Maybe tomorrow.”

He stares a little longer. You remain unshaken in your offer.

“Fine.” He sighs, stepping aside.

You tell him that since it’s his first time, you’d get him something basic. He thought it made sense.

He argued with you when you ended up paying for the both of you, only shutting up when you told him he’s holding up the line and that he could pay you back later. It doesn’t stop his incessant mumble complaining.

He ends up with gyros at his table and you sitting opposite him with your meal. He asks where the Science Bros are. You tell him it’s Science Hoes now, as christened by Tony, and that they’re in the lab.

“So?” You look at him eagerly.

“What?”

“How is it?” you urge, nodding at him.

He takes a cautious bite, really taking his time with it to annoy your impatient ass.

“Well?” You raise your eyebrow at him.

“It’s-” he pauses, looking down at his food. “-good.”

“Aha.” You lean back victoriously. “Knew it.”

He likes it. He also knows that this is probably going to be the only thing he orders for the next week unless you had planned otherwise.

“You’re not eating?” He gestures to your untouched tray.

“Taking it up to the lab. Got a few things to work on and we’re already behind.” You gather up your stuff and get up.

“Uh-” he pauses from practically inhaling the entire thing. He was already halfway done with it. “-thanks.”

“No problem. You wink at him. “Try figuring out what’s wrong with it.”

You turn on your heel to leave, taking your order with you. He can see your shoulders bobbing with silent laughter.

He stares down at his plate, swallowing slowly.

He pokes at it with a fork, lifting up the leftovers to check if there’s anything underneath. Nothing.

He checks to see if his limbs are still intact or his face was a different colour. Nope.

His stomach twists in worry about what’s going to happen. He still has a bit left but he pushes the tray aside.

The rest of the day he spends supervising you has you occasionally catching his eye, only to laugh. It only freaks him out more.

It takes eight hours of waiting and self induced tests later to realise there was nothing wrong with it. You were just playing with him.

He’s surprised to find you in the rec room when he strolls in with Sam, given that you haven’t taken a break all day.

You don’t share the same surprise... almost like you expected him.

“How long have you been waiting for me?” he immediately asks.

"I wasn’t here for you.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Heard that Wilson was makin’ an appearance here soon so I stopped by to get a good look at him."

"Take a picture, it'll last longer.” Sam laughs, inserting a dollar into the machine and punching in the code for what he wanted.

"Gladly. Strike a pose, would you?" You grin, raising your phone.

“Maybe when I’m not covered in sweat.” Sam counter offers and you accept with a thumbs up.

“You going to the parade, Sam?” You toy with the can in your hands.

“I’ll be working security, so probably.”

“Sarge?” You take a swig of your drink.

“Huh?” He snaps back into the conversation, putting a stop to the mental list of reasons he was making of why you could be here at the same time as him. He knew your schedule, it wouldn’t be very hard for you to figure out his.

“You coming to the parade on Sunday?” you ask again.

“I guess.”

You wince.

“What?” he asks instantly, curiosity making him a lot sloppier than usual.

“It’s just- you wear so much black.” You gesture to his current getup to prove your point. ”I feel like all the bright colours would vaporise you if you looked at them.”

He doesn’t look amused.

“You know, like Prince Philip.”

“I think I’ll be fine.” He gives you a sarcastic smile.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam laughs, unwrapping the bar he bought from the machine.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” Bucky says offhandedly, still glaring at you innocently drinking your soda.

Sam chews absentmindedly on his protein bar as he walks out, amused at the situation Bucky pulled himself into.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asks, studying your body language.

“I bought a soda.” You lift the can to prove your point. “And now I’m drinking it.”

“Why are you waiting for me?”

“I thought I’d return the favour,” you point out. “I’m supervising you.”

“Don’t.” He walks to the vending machine, pulling out his wallet for some loose change. There was a Snickers bar he had been craving since morning that he bought every alternate day. Small joys.

“Why? I have the time.” You take a sip, setting it down with a clang.

“You’re only here for this week.” Bucky counted the coins he had. He’d use a dollar but he was trying to get rid of the jingling in his pocket that made him sound like a fucking clown when he walked.

“Actually,” you begin innocuously, “Tony offered me a full-time position.”

Bucky’s movements stop, hunched over the money in his palm.

“What?”

“Yeah.” You nod seriously. “A full nine-to-five as a researcher here.”

“And you’re taking it.” He shakes himself out of the minor shock to assess the damage.

“I don’t know. I got a lot of things to consider.” The chair scrapes against the tiled floor as you stand up. “But maybe you should get used to seeing me a lot more around here.”

He punches in the code for his Snickers. The row whirs forward slowly.

“See you at the lab.” He hears you discard the empty can in the trash before exiting.

He waits patiently for his bar to drop while his mind internally screams about the consequences of having you work here. You wouldn’t be evil anymore. Unless you were here to steal secrets from the Tower. On the pro side, his weekend would be free again. On the con side, his weekend would be free again.

His bar stops right at the edge of the row. He waits for it to fall over. It doesn’t.

He shakes the machine, suppressing the primal urge to beat the shit out of it when the damn bar refuses to fall.

He punches in a few random buttons hoping that at least it would give his money back.

The little monitor instead flashes a new message across the screen.

‘Have a good day, sarge <3’

Motherfucker.

Captain America looks less daunting up close, you realise. But he is still a very large man with very large shoulders. You know at least four people who would like to scale him like a tree, not that you’d ever tell him.

“Hey, Y/N.” He sends you a small smile when you walk into the room for a mid-week update. A clipboard in your hand, report attached and a few stationery items in case some points needed to be noted done, you look professional and ready.

“Afternoon, Captain.” Tony saves a seat for you and Bruce beside him since you’re on the same project. You almost miss the fact that Bucky isn’t in the room.

He walks in a few minutes late; tall, dark and brooding, immediately bringing the excitement in the room down by 40% by just existing.

Bucky surveys the room before catching your eye. He picks up his chair with ease and drags it over to where you are, sitting right beside you, ignoring the small cry of protest from an agent whose view he now obstructed. Everyone else just silently shifted over.

“Clingy much?” you whisper at him, eyes still trained on Steve who had waited till everyone was seated to continue.

“I’m supposed t’be keeping an eye on you,” he rebuffs in a hush.

“Well, you’re late. What if I went rogue, huh?”

“Therapy ran overtime,” he mumbles.

“Oh.” You blink. “How was it?”

“Same old.”

“You good?”

He refrains from answering when Steve starts addressing the room but yes, he was fine. He sends you a nod to confirm.

“This is just a usual checking in. We’ve received all your reports, but just to keep everyone on the same page-”

Bucky logs out mentally. He knows what his job is, he’ll probably lead a division of the security team or join the mission to neutralise the threat in case they find it first. Either way, he’ll figure it out without having to listen to an intern nervously stammer their way through their team’s report.

On the other hand, you’re not listening either. You were until you saw Bucky’s eyes glaze over while glowering at the window, assuming that he had stopped paying attention when his gaze doesn’t shift.

You should be listening. You’re new here and you should know what’s going on because any bits of detail are crucial to the working of your system.

Instead, you rip out a sticky note and discreetly place it on the back of Bucky’s metal arm. He doesn’t notice.

You bite your lip to stop yourself from smiling. More post-its from your pile of stationery make their way onto the vibranium, shades of pink, purple, green and yellow decorating his arm like a bulletin board.

You’re about to contemplate sticking one on his shoulder blade when he whips around to look at you. You freeze, hand in the air with a sticky note. He looks down at his arm, a scoff escaping him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” He twists his arm to check the extent of how far you’ve gone. “What are you, six?”

“How’d it take you so long to notice?” You watch as he tugs them off one by one, counting to see how many you had managed to get on there.

“It’s impossible not to zone out in these shitty meetings,” he mumbles, pulling off the last one, crumpling all of them into a ball to throw at you. You skilfully avoid them.

“Don’t you feel pressure or heat or anything here?” You poke at his metal arm.

“No.” He clenches and releases the fist. “It can block bullets though.”

You snort. “Bet that’s a popular line in bed.”

He rolls his eyes. “I mean, it helps that I can’t feel anything. Sometimes,” he adds the last part as an afterthought.

“Like when you’re blocking bullets.”

“Especially then.” He nods.

“Would you ever want to?” you ask casually. “Like if you got the choice, would you prefer having feeling in that arm?”

“I don’t know.” He’s thought about it, but it doesn’t seem feasible in his line of work. He’d like it, though, to feel sand slipping through his fingers and the comforter under his palm. “Maybe when I’m retired.”

“Aren’t you well past that age?”

“Shut up.” He rolls his eyes. “And pay attention. You’re next.”

“So you are listening.” True to his word, Steve asks about what’s going on with your team. “Traitor.”

Tony shoots off about how you only had to test it out on a small batch first to see if you could acquire the targeted data without compromising anything else. You chime in about a few specifics, and Bruce more or less just confirms what you both are saying, only stopping to let them know that you’d be finished in a day or two.

Steve nods, moving on to the next committee.

“Did I get a good grade?” you whisper when you lean back again.

“B minus at best.”

“Fuck you, dude. I was great,” you protested. “It’s definitely worth a gold sticker.”

Someone shushes you sharply. You apologise quietly, whacking Bucky’s metal arm when you see a dumb smirk on his face.

He narrows his eyes at you.

You try sticking another post-it on him.

You’re only here for a week. That’s what he’s been told. Over six times, actually, after which he’s been told to go away the next time he asked.

No one’s brought up the job offer so he asks Tony if it was true and all he gets is a dismissive ‘yeah, whatever’. Besides, you haven’t told him if you accepted or denied it yet so isn’t sure if this entire thing is set in stone, per se.

So then why do you have a giant box of your belongings that you’re lugging around the lab, looking to set down?

And why does Tony allow you a table right in the centre of the lab for everyone to see as soon as they walk in?

There are a gazillion trinkets, picture frames and obnoxiously bright stationery that stands out against the dull minimalism of the lab.

“Every single one of these is a fire hazard,” he reports, standing over your desk.

You give him a side glance before reaching over to the side of your desk, pulling up a fire extinguisher and setting it on the table in front of him. “I came prepared, bitch boy.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a response. He chooses to look at what exactly you’ve brought with you because it’s a lot.

There are small cards with ‘thank you!’ sprawled on them in uneven lettering, bits and pieces of paper with small cartoons on them, little clay models and other miniature trophies with ‘you’re the best!’ under it.

“Your students gave you these?” He can’t remember the last time he gave his teacher anything other than a headache.

“Sometimes they learn or communicate better when they have something to keep their hands busy.” There’s a certain fondness in your voice that he isn’t used to hearing. “I end up with a lot of doodles and craft.”

“’s nice of them.” He can tell that this means a lot to you. He hasn’t seen it before.

He thinks the little decorations are adorable and maybe he’d keep another fire extinguisher on hand, just in case.

Until you start pulling out a set of framed photos and his smile drops.

Several collages of Bucky in flower crowns, him with terribly edited backgrounds of beaches and mountains, a photo of him laughing with ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ next to it in an italicised font.

“What the fuck,” he states, grabbing one of them.

You stifle a laugh, pulling out several more to place along your table.

“Where did you fucking get these?” He starts pulling them off the table one by one.

“I don’t think you know how much the internet is obsessed with you.” You set an especially large one of him in a Hello Kitty bowtie right in the centre. He doesn’t miss the star shaped frame you chose for this.

“What is wrong with you?” He swipes that up immediately, looking for a place to discard, possibly burn these pictures. “Why do you even have these?”

“It’s imperative that people know we’re friends.” You bite your lip, bringing out the last thing to annoy him.

“What is that?” A teddy bear with a blue jacket and a grey felt arm stared into his soul.

“A Bucky bear.” Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “Limited edition.”

He snatches it along with the fifteen other picture frames, thinly veiled distress and mostly disgust on his face.

“I hate you.”

“But I love you.” You lift the small heart shaped locket you hung on one of the pictures of your class.

You use both your hands to click it open for him, watching his face morph into one of disbelief.

Bucky my beloved, it read on the right with a small picture of him on the left looking intensely disgruntled. He doesn’t bother asking where you found that specific picture of him outside a Burger King at 3am.

He doesn’t even make an effort to take it away this time. He knows that you’ll simply bring up more and more until you drove him crazy.

“You still have to see the Avengers calendar.” You reach for the inside. “I changed all the pictures to you, it looks great-”

He turns around and leaves before you get a chance to flip open the pages.

He wanders around, looking for the best disposal area he can find. He knows there’s a giant fireplace in the common room in the Tower, and for that, he’d have to go up a couple of floors.

He steps into the elevator, chin pressing down on the several picture frames in his hands to prevent them from falling over.

No one sees him carrying a couple of fan edited pictures and merchandise of him. Which was good.

Unfortunately, the doors ding open on the next floor and his best friend steps on with possibly the worst timing ever.

“Buck?” Steve sounds confused. He should be, considering the sight.

Bucky shimmies slightly to get a better grip on his belongings. “Steven.”

Steve glances at what he’s holding.

“Is this,” Steve pauses, trying to frame his words correctly to sound as supportive as possible, “a therapy thing?”

“No.”

Steve waits for a further explanation.

“It’s Y/N’s,” he elucidates. Steve’s eyebrows furrow.

“Why are there so many pictures of you?” He looks at the content in his hands a little closer. “And a bear.”

“She’s evil. And I hate her.”

“Alright.” It doesn’t answer his question but his friend looks irked enough.

The elevator dings to the common room floor.

Bucky turns on his heel to head toward the place to set all the pictures on fire. He saves the picture frames to give back to you though, he’s sure those cost money. But he makes sure every last square inch of the picture with several hearts around his portrait burns to ash.

Bucky knows that by the time Saturday afternoon rolls around, the three of you would have been working for thirty hours straight, scrambling to get the last minute details done.

You’re still at it but he can tell through the adrenaline of the upcoming deadline that you’re exhausted.

Now he’s grouchy but he’s not an asshole. He’s already done two coffee runs for the team and brought you food when you didn’t show up for lunch. He mumbles something and dismisses it when you call out a ‘thank you’ his way. He considers it a debt repaid for the gyros.

He’s still keeping an eye on you but along with an emergency box of doughnuts for any sugar rushes that may be needed and bottles of water that he occasionally leaves at the corner of the table for you three to subconsciously keep yourself hydrated.

“Are you sure we checked it?”

“Yes.” Bruce nods.

“Double checked it?”

“Yes.”

“Triple checked it.”

“Yes.”

You look satisfied enough to move on to the next item. “Pass me the welding torch for a second.”

Bucky has a book in front of him that he hasn’t moved beyond the second page of. He’s more interested in seeing who collapses from burnout first. He has the infirmary on speed dial.

After another hour or so Tony holds up a silver tablet, roughly the same size as a smartphone, examining it from all sides.

“That’s it,” he states. “The final product.”

You exhale lightly.

“We should name it.” You have your hands on your hips, looking down at it in wonder. Maybe the zero hours of sleep was finally kicking in because you couldn’t believe you were finally done.

“You got any suggestions?” Tony asks.

To be frank, no, you didn’t.

“No.”

“Okay, we’ll do that later.” Tony sets it down, not sounding too disappointed. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, tell the team to get down here, please.”

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky jumps off his chair to join you in the lab, leaving the book behind.

It only takes a few moments for the others to join. Fury and Steve walk in together, already engaged in conversation.

“Greetings.” You clap your hands together. “We did it. We think.”

“We think?” Nick raises an eyebrow.

“We know,” Bruce clarifies quickly, stepping in. “We’re positive it works. We tested it out.”

Tony pulls up the holograph of F.R.I.D.AY’s system, sliding the tablet to the middle of the table.

“Is it secured under FRIDAY’s core?”

“Locked and loaded.” Tony hits the table lightly to signify that it was safe.

“I think we’re ready,” Bruce confirms.

“We better be, or else half the country is suddenly going to lose their internet connection,” you say under your breath.

“What?” Bucky’s eyebrows knit together.

“Nothing,” you beamed, “Okay F.R.I.D.A.Y., run sequence, global parameter.”

“Running sequence,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. parrots.

There was no going back now.

From what Bucky can see, Tony looks fairly confident but you have your bottom lip caged between your teeth, chewing on it nervously.

There are several hundreds of photographs popping up and disappearing within a minute. Everything looks like it’s going according to plan.

The giant holograph of the AI dims. Your face drops when F.R.I.D.A.Y. seems to sputter to a halt.

No one breathes.

In the midst of the tension, Clint mutters if they should play some background music. It’s followed by a swift ‘ow’ when Natasha flicks him in the shoulder.

You could hear a pin drop.

It suddenly picks back up again, running faster than the last time and the sigh everyone collectively heaves is almost comical.

It runs for a few seconds more before a list of names suddenly pop up accompanied by a series of photographs and geo locations.

“Sequence complete. Six names detected, zero encroachment on public or private databases,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. broadcasted. “Location determined to be Holland. Exact coordinates are computed into the quinjet.”

You let out a small cheer, looping your arm around Bruce, squeezing him in a half hug. He has a smile on his face, dropping his head as he laughs slightly.

“How dangerous are they?” Tony, however, continues to ask.

“A few prior convictions and a series of similar threats. Danger level determined to be at approximately five out of ten.”

“That’s not bad,” Steve commented. “Looks like we don’t need the full team there.”

“Romanoff, Barton, Wilson, Rogers can go ahead and take care of that,” Nick finally spoke up. “Everyone else is working security tomorrow, just in case anyone else decides that terrorism is on their fuckin’ to-do list for the day.”

“Buck, assemble a team and go over strategy for tomorrow,” Steve adds on. “Everyone else go suit up, wheels up in thirty minutes.”

“Fuckin’ Holland,” Sam scoffs, shaking his head. “Of all the places.”

“What do you have against Holland?” Nat asks as they leave together.

“Just don’t like ‘em.” Their voices grow faint the further they get.

“Hey.” A small greeting from behind you has you turning around.

Wanda stands in front of you and you have to ignore the fact that the most powerful being on Earth is talking to you.

“Hey,” you say back.

“I just wanted to say congratulations. You did a great job.” Bits and pieces of her accent poked out. She didn’t seem like she was putting in the effort to cover it up as opposed to the press interviews you had heard a few years ago.

“Thank you.” You smile. “T’was a team effort.”

“Well, we owe you one anyway,” Steve joins the conversation, leaving aside Tony who was still talking to Bruce.

“I wish I was humble enough to turn it down but I’m not.” You laugh. “It’s nice to have an arsenal of superheroes at my disposal.”

Steve looks like he’s going to respond but his attention is drawn towards F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s announcement that the quinjet was ready to go. He shoots you an apologetic look but you sign for him to go on, you’d meet with him later.

You watch as he claps Tony on the back, telling him to go get some sleep and something with more nutritional value than a pizza pocket in him, nodding at Bruce before taking leave.

“Y/L/N,” Nick stands beside you, looking ahead at the conversations being had as Steve tugs Clint along with him.

“Nicky,” you tease.

“I know at least seven underground prisons I can put you in if anyone hears you calling me that,” he says stoically.

“We all know you won’t get rid of me.” You shake your head. “Who’s gonna send you a Christmas card then, huh?”

He simply shakes his head, jutting his hand out and offering a handshake. “Not sure anyone here could handle another day of a highly caffeinated, sleep-deprived Stark.”

“Just say ‘thanks’, Nick, geez.” You roll your eyes.

Bucky watches the entire interaction unfurl; only the body language, not employing the lip-reading ability.

“You’re welcome.” You let go of his hand, a devilish look on your face. “You know what I want in return.”

Nick gives you a long, hard stare that could probably melt through Steve’s shield before turning around to leave.

But Bucky doesn’t miss the subtle high-five he gives you while walking out, unbeknownst to anyone else, bringing the biggest grin to your face.

He makes it a point to ask you what the fuck kind of leverage you have over the man for him to play favourites with you.

You finally collapse at your desk, letting out a loud exhale. You clench your eyes shut, your body finally melting into your chair. You look exhausted.

He’s not sure how to help. You don’t seem like you have the energy to tell him.

Bucky leaves a doughnut and water bottle on the table in front of you before shuffling out of the room quietly.

He’s certain that he’s spent far too long in Bruce’s lab this week. He liked the man as much as the next guy, but he probably wouldn’t come down there for the foreseeable future.

You’re at your assigned desk, reading light illuminating the space. Thankfully you’ve cleared up most of your stuff from the table, leaving no more liabilities to fall over in case he walked into the desk.

“So you’re done for the week.” His voice surprises you. You were scrolling through your phone, slightly hunched over.

“It appears so.” You put your phone down, swivelling the chair to look at him.

“How’d it go?” He leans against your table, making sure he isn’t using his full weight.

“Well, I slept for fifteen hours straight, so...” you leave him to connect the dots. He’s done the same several times.

“You’re probably gonna need more,” he says, mostly from his own experience, “I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Actually-” you reach beside your table and lug your gigantic box of belongings onto the table with a loud thud, “-you won’t.”

He looks at the box that was nearly overflowing with its contents, the majority of the space being taken up by empty picture frames. “I thought you said Tony offered you a job.”

“He did,” you confirm. “I didn’t accept.”

“Why?” He watches you shift through a few things, adjusting it so that it wouldn’t fall over.

“This whole thing- it’s cool and all, but it’s not what I want to do.” You shrug. “I like teaching. I miss my class.”

He gaze lands on one of the thank you notes sticking out from the corner of the box. “Ah.”

“Back to school from tomorrow.”

“And evil on the weekends?” he prods, dropping a pen into the heap of stationery.

“Obviously.” You give him a lopsided smile. “Where else am I gonna use all this brilliance?”

You point to your head. He lets out a small exhale in the form of a laugh.

“Speaking of-” You look like you just remembered something.

You rummage through your backpack and pull out a small container, handing it to him.

“What’s this?” He turns it over, looking for any hidden clues. “Are you proposing again, because I’ve said no-”

“I’m not proposing,” you interrupt, “yet.”

He gives you a deadpan look.

“Open it,” you urge, and he complies.

Two small squares sit side-by-side. They’re slick black, barely bigger than the face of a dice.

“You put one of them here-” You tap on his bicep “-and the other here.” You tap his shoulder, a few inches below his clavicle.

“What does it do?” He thinks it’s like Nat’s little taser things, a nifty little tool that he could use on missions.

“It, uh-” you hesitate “-it allows you to feel sensation in your metal arm. Heat, pressure, texture.”

His breath hitches in his throat. He doesn’t mean for it to happen, it just does.

“You said that sometimes you’re glad you couldn’t because of the bullets and stuff. They’re detachable, so just take them off when you go on missions and wherever it is you Spandex ambassadors go.” You scoff slightly.

He can’t remember the last time he felt something soft with that arm or used it for something that wasn’t directly related to his job.

“I’m not messing with what the Wakandans gave you. It’s the most advanced piece of tech out there.” You shrug. “But if you ever want to feel it when someone attaches sticky notes to your arm, this could work. Just thought it’d be nice to have an option.”

He can’t decipher what he’s feeling right now. He looks up at you, only to catch you eyeing him cautiously, assessing his reaction. When you notice he’s looking at you, a nervous smile makes its way onto your face.

His stomach does a flip.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” You sound a little relieved, picking up the box that he’s pretty sure weighed a ton what with all his memorabilia in it. “See you next week.”

He doesn’t know how to explain what it means to him.

Instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets. “What are you doing later?”

“Nothing.” You pause. “Why?”

“Are you gonna watch the parade?”

“Yeah, probably.” You shift your weight to your other leg to compensate for the box.

“Want some company?”

“Aren’t you heading a security division?” You have to consciously hide the bewilderment from your voice.

“Yeah. The place I’m stationed just so happens to have a good look into the street,” he explains, toying with the bracelet on his wrist. “Can’t really promise that I’ll be paying attention to it or that I’d even be there the whole time but for the most part...” he trails off.

“Uh-” You force yourself to shove aside your surprise at his determination, “yeah, sure. That’d be cool.”

He nods. “Okay. See you there.”

“See you,” you murmur as you walk to the elevator.

He opens the tiny container to look at the small chips. They’re still there, silently like they don’t change his world just by existing.

Gosh.

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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weirdos-am-i-right · 3 years

Text

Fuck Traveling// Pete Davidson x reader

Request from @annalayton19

Hi! I’m a new follower and I really like your stuff! Could I request a Pete Davidson x reader (angst to fluff) where Pete is on tour or filming away from home and the reader is left behind. After like 6 months of being apart Pete starts to get tired of the long distance and basically like done with it. And then he realizes his mistake and comes home to make it up to her! I’m sorry if that’s super long! Also if this imagine doesn’t interest you, then no sweat! Thank you so much in advance 💕

A/n: This took so much less time then I thought it would. Anyway, here you go, I really hope you like it!

Warning: angst, swearing, like one cigarettes

€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€€

Six months. Six months was an extremely long time to be away from someone you loved.

Y/n sat on the couch, a small pout on her lips. She looked at Pete—her boyfriend of a year—and frowned. “I wish I could go with you.” Pete frowns too, and sits down next to her.

“I know. I wish you were coming with me too. But hey, it’s only a couple of months, all right? I’ll be back before you know it.” He kissed her cheek.

“I just wish my contract would let me. You have no idea how annoying it is to not be able to do things because of freaking Marvel.” She groans, falling on her back with a slight ‘plop’.

“Well, because of freaking Marvel, you are one of the best actresses out there. And I know you’re going to kill it with filming. My tour isn’t even that cool. It’ll broke you to death.” He jokes, leaning back on the arm of the couch.

“Babe, you’re a comedian.”

“Oh right, I forgot.” He grabs her arm, and pulls her up into his chest. “I love you, okay?” He lifts her chin up, and kisses her. “So fucking much. We’ll face time everyday, I’ll call you every evening and wish you goodnight.”

“Okay.” She looked over a the clock, and sighed. “We have to go. Your flight is leaving soon.” He brushes hair behind her ear, bringing her eyes back to him.

“I love you. It’ll be over before you know it.”

“I love you, too.”

********

The car ride to the airport was long, and quiet. Pete was driving, he had one hand on the steering wheel, and one hand on Y/n’s leg, rubbing small circles into the center of her thigh.

She knew she was going to miss him so much, but she also knew she was going to be extremely busy with filming, so it wouldn’t be as bad.

Once they were at the gate, they tearfully hugged, and she kissed him. “All right, now get out of here. We’re not doing that rom-com turn back at the last second goodbye.” She laughed at him, tears steaming down her face a bit. He wiped one with his thumb, and kissed her again. “Love you. Now go, so I get to watch you walk away.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She turns around, and starts walking back to her car. She knew he hated leaving her too, but he was a lot better at hiding emotions then she was, that was one of the only things she learned while dating him.

She got in her car, and put her head on her steering wheel.

She groans, and leans back. Starting her car, she pulled out of the airport, and drove home.

**********

The first few months were the worst. Y/n hated going to bed alone, the left side of the bed always cold.

She was filming almost every day, and seeing her co-workers and friends always cheered her up, after all she had been working with the same people for quite some time now, so she felt comfortable around them.

The fourth month was slowly becoming easier. She got use to coming home to no one there, and making dinner for herself. She still talked to Pete every day, texting him good morning, and Goodnight, and FaceTiming him a lot during the day.

Though she knew he loved her, she felt as though he was slightly pulling away. The FaceTime calls were short, and he never texted her back right away like he use to.

“And so, we we’re almost done with the shoot, so close I could practically taste the coffee in my trailer waiting for me, and then Kevin calls cut, and he makes us do the whole scene over again! I swear, I was about to strange that man. Ugh, I can’t wait til you come home. Only two more weeks, I can’t believe we made it.” Y/n rants, talking to Pete on the phone.

“Uh huh. Cool.” He wasn’t looking at her, instead his attention was somewhere else. Y/n frowns, tilting her head a bit.

“Pete…are, are you okay?” That seemed to catch his attention, and he finally looked at the screen.

“What? I’m fine.”

“Okay…you just seem so…different lately. I don’t know, maybe it’s just me, but you seem like you don’t have time for me anymore. Or if you do, you don’t like talking to me.” Pete scoffs.

“Of course I don’t have time for you right now. I’m in between shows, I’m driving to one as we speak. I mean, god forbid I get a minute to myself without my agents or you calling me.” Pete snapped.

“Wha-I’m just talking to you. If you didn’t want to, you could have said something.”

“That’s bullshit you would have thrown a fucking hissy fit or something.” He rolls his eyes.

“That’s not true. I understand when people are tired, believe me I would know.”

“Would you?”

“Yes!” She had tears stinging her eyes. “Of course I do, you’re forgetting what I do for a living. I work from 6 am to whenever we finish which most of the time is in the middle of the night. I have to re-do the same scene about ten times because RDJ won’t stop making jokes in the middle of the scene!”

“Oh, sorry, I forgot about your super-star actress life.”

“Why are you being so mean to me? I was only concerned about you.”

“Mean? What are you, five? I can’t-I can’t do this anymore.” She huffs, crossing her arms.

“What do you talking about? Are you breaking up with me?”

“Wh-”

“Because then fine. If you don’t want to be with me, I don’t have to take this shit. I’ll be with someone who, oh, I don’t know is actually here.”

“Oh that’s fucking rich, you know I can’t be there, don’t even do that.” She scoffs.

“I don’t care. You want to act like a petty bitch, I have no problem doing it right back.”

“No, I think you’re just a petty bitch.” She wipes her eye, and he laughs dryly. “Oh of course you’re crying.”

“Shut up. If you don’t want to be with me, fine. Go enjoy your show, Pete.” She hung up the phone, and turned off the ringer. She plugged it into her charger, and went into the bathroom, turning the shower on.

********

Pete rubbed his eyes, and took a drag of his cigarette. He knew he shouldn’t have snapped at her, it wasn’t her fault he was cranky, and needed to take it out on someone.

“I’m a dick.” He mumbles to himself, and bangs his steering wheel.

His phone rang again, and for a good second his heart leaping out of his chest, thinking it was his girlfriend, calling him back. He checked the phone, seeing it was Colson. He answered the call.

“What’s up, man?” Pete asks.

“The shows starting soon. You almost here?” Colson questioned. Pete looked at his google maps, seeing he was supposed to be there in ten minutes.

“I’m a good ten minutes away. I’ll be there.”

“You sound weird. What the fuck did you take without me?” Colson asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Uh…Y/n and I just broke up. I think.” The line was silent for a few seconds.

“Why the fuck would you do that, you idiot? Are you kidding me?” Colson scoffs. “Man, what the fuck?”

“Shut up, man. I can’t stand talking on the phone with her. I’m busy, she’s busy, she plays a superhero for fuck’s sake. I didn’t even expect it to last this long to be honest.”

“Man, you fucking dumbass. That girl was probably the only good thing you had going for you. Get her the fuck back.I thought you loved her.”

“I did-I do. I do love her. I’m just so stressed right now, and excuse me for not wanting to hear about fucking Kevin Feige being a shitty director.”

“Hey, fuck-shit, you ever think that maybe this is more hard on her? Acting is fucking hard, you should know that, especially for a company like Marvel.

“Man, who’s side are you on?” Pete turns into the parking lot, and grabs his phone.

“You think I’m on your side here? You’re forgetting that we were friends before I met you. I can not believe you just fucked up the best thing in your life. Fix it, man. You’re going home in a week, fucking fix it.” And with that, Colson hung up, and put his phone away.

He kicked a rock across the pavement, and cursed under his breathe.

********

The worst thing about breaking up with someone you live with, who so happens to be long-distance is that their stuff fills the apartment with an existential amount of regret.

Y/n laid on her couch, flipping through the channels of the TV. She had called off work for the next few days, not feeling up to put on a performance for anyone. She knew she would get shit for it later, but she didn’t care.

Her head perked up when there was a knock on the door. She sighed, and got up, going over to the door. She really didn’t feel like company at the moment, and was sure she was going to send away whoever it was.

When she opened the door, her breathe caught in her throat. Pete stood in the doorway, looming over her. He looked like shit. She could tell he hadn’t slept, and probably didn’t eat anything, but she knew he didn’t look much better.

“Why-why didn’t you use your key?” Y/n asks, opening the door a bit for him.

“I uh, didn’t want to barge in on you. You also probably weren’t expecting me.”

“I wasn’t. I thought you didn’t get back until next week.” She says. It took every ounce of her not to jump into his arms, and kiss his face until she was sure she kissed every part of it.

“I took off early. Can we talk? Please. I was a dick. I was such a dick. I’m sorry, I know we grew apart in the last few months, and I promised we wouldn’t but we did, and I’m so sorry for that, baby.” He grabs her hand, and she slightly pulls it back, but let’s him grab it. “Please, forgive me. I love you, so much, okay? So fucking much, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me.”

She felt tears welling up in her eyes, and she looked away from him. “What you said really hurt.”

“I know. And I’ll spend every day trying to make it up to you.” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, pushing her face into his chest. He didn’t hesitate to hug her back, leaning down and kissing the top of her head. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Fuck traveling.”

“Fuck traveling.”

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson fanfiction #machine gun kelly #mgk imagine #angst

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fivelakesinwriting · 3 years

Note

first fight with barry?? and reader sleeps on the couch and holds a grudge but fluff ending

Author's Notes: Barry forgets about an important event in his relationship with girl... Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If this was your request, I hope you love it! xoxo

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Drinking, Arguing, Sexual references - Sexual innuendos and Fluff .

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Barry didn't like to break promises. To him, his word was as good as any legally binding document. If he told you he was going to do something, then he would do it.

When she asked him to meet her parents, he told her that he would. He didn't give her a date or a specific time. Perhaps that was his way of getting out of it at some point. He didn't "meet" parents. Mostly because he had never really been a serious relationship kind of guy.

One night stands, or a couple of weeks with someone was the most he could really stand to have someone in his space. Yet, this woman got 365 days out of him. And counting.

It had been a long, and hot day. Barry felt like he had pulled himself over the finish line for a job that didn't really have a punch out time. He slouched on the couch, head rested back on the cushions while he stared at the ceiling and pressed an unopened can of beer to the base of his throat.

His exhausted body perked up as he heard the distinct click of his favourite pair of her high heels across his kitchen floor. He rolled his head over the back of the couch and looked his woman up then down in a red dress, far too fancy to be hanging out with a guy like him.

"All dressed up, but you know I only like the shoes." Barry smirked his thumb brushing over his top lip, over the little bit of scruff there before he reached over to pop the top of his beer can.

"You aren't even dressed! We have to leave to meet my parents like, now." She replied with wide eyes as she looked him over on the couch, still in his baggy shorts and worn out tank with the loose collar.

"Shit. That was tonight, wasn't it?" Barry sighed as he placed his beer on the scuffed up coffee table in front of him, then ran both of his tired hands over his face. He couldn't believe he had forgotten, she had been reminding him all week long and had even put a fucking pink post- it note on the fridge to remind him.

So every time you get a beer, you remember our big date.

"Are you kidding me, Barry?" She scoffed with a shake of her head, holding her weight on the small counter beside her as she looked him up and down.

"I'm sorry, alright? Been a shit week, and I forgot. Can we reschedule?" Barry mumbled into the palms of his hands, embarrassed to show her his face.

"No! You know we can't! My parents are only in town for tonight and tomorrow. Tonight was supposed to be our dinner with them, then tomorrow they're visiting their friends. Barry, this was important." She argued with a stomp of her foot as she grabbed her phone off the charger, presumably to text her parents that the dinner was off.

"And I'm sorry! What else you want me to say?" Barry glared as he pulled his hands from his face then stood up as he slowly walked over to her, his eyebrows knitted together as he looked down at her. Suddenly, he didn't like her red dress so much any more.

"What to tell my parents, would be a good start." She spat as she turned around and sent him a glare of her own.

"Typical Kook Princess, huh? Bet they don't know even know what I do for a living. Bet you told them I'm still at one of those jobs I fucking quit." Barry grumbled as he grabbed her phone from her neatly manicured hands and held it above her head.

"And what was I supposed to tell them? That the guy I love is the fucking biggest drug dealer in the OBX? That would make my Mama so proud of me." She responded with a push of his firm chest before she tried to reach for her phone, standing on her toes to grab it.

"At least I'm good at something. Think they'd be proud you fucking someone successful at something." Barry mumbled his top lip curling as he held her phone higher above his head, just to taunt his short lover.

"Successful? That's a stretch." She glared with another slap to his chest before she gave up trying to get her phone back then turned on her heel and walked back to the bedroom.

"Oh, fuck you. Because I don't got my name on a desk or a fucking door like your Daddy doesn't mean I'm not worthy. Don't be a Kook bitch." Barry spat as he walked after her, tossing her phone onto the counter. He wasn't done with her, even if she was done with him.

"Don't follow me." She glared a finger pointed at his chest as she stood in the doorway of his bedroom.

"It's my house!" Barry yelled with his arms outstretched, gesturing to the small home they stood in.

"Fine. I'm going to dinner with my parents, and if I come back tonight I'll sleep on the couch. I'll see you later." She sighed as she grabbed her purse and brushed passed him, walking towards the door.

"Don't walk out on me." Barry growled as he stomped after her, hot on her heels.

She didn't reply. She was as stubborn as he was most of the time, playfully so more often than not. And of course he had to test it during their first fight. He caught the screen door as he came back at his face after she pushed it open and stalked outside. He held the door open and watched his love stomp down the dirt path towards the road where her car was parked.

"Just come back! Please!" Barry yelled as he ran a hand through his hair before he released his hold on the door and let is swing shut.

By the time Barry went to sleep that night, close to midnight, she wasn't home. He felt sick to his stomach, and he would be lying if he said his heart didn't ache either. It was their first big fight and he hated that he had let her leave like that. He hated that he let her leave at all.

The whole time she had been gone he went over the fight in his head, thinking of ways he could have approached it differently.

Should have just gone to the stupid fucking fancy dinner, Barry.

There's probably not that many forks to remember, Barry.

Those people made Her, so how bad could they possibly be?

By the time midnight rolled around Barry could hardly keep his eyes open, despite the way his heart raced in his chest pumping anxiety into his veins. She was supposed to be beside him, like she always was. She was supposed to be curled up beside him, in one of his shirts with that ass pushed up against him. He'd tell her, "no", that he was too tired. But he always just wanted her to beg a little more.

It was the first night in months, almost one year, that he had to try and sleep without his woman. His heart ached, and his bed was so cold even for the middle of Summer.

It was early in the morning when Barry woke up. His body still on that military routine even after all this time. He turned his head to look at the spot beside him and noticed the lack of her beside him. His heart couldn't sink any lower.

Barry scratched the back of his neck, then pulled his body out of bed to make the coffee and check his own phone to see if he had anything there from her. He pressed his hand to his heart over his chest as he walked to the kitchen to try and steady the rapid beating of it.

As he turned on the drip coffee maker and pulled his phone off the counter, his head snapped up when he heard a weak whine come from the living room.

"Early. You wake up too early." Came her groan from the couch, her body in under a pile of blankets.

"Fuck. You are here. Scared the shit out of me, woman." Barry sighed as he pressed his palms flat on the counter and exhaled heavily towards his feet. He pushed himself away from the counter before he quickly walked into the living room, grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her tired body off the couch and into his arms.

"I'm sorry." Barry grumbled into her messy hair as he squeezed her tightly.

"I'm sorry, too. I was being stupid and thinking that a post- it note was enough to make you remember something that was important to me. I should have actually confirmed it with you out loud, instead of assuming you'd remember." She sighed into his chest as she wrapped her own arms around his waist.

"I should have remembered something important to you." Barry muttered as he rested his chin on the top of her head as he placed his hands on her hips.

"I forgive you, if you forgive me." She smiled up at him as she placed her hands on the side of his face, pressing up on bare toes to get closer to his height.

"Forgave you last night." Barry nodded as he pressed a kiss to her forehead, then leaned down to kiss her lips. He released a sigh of relief through his nostrils to have his woman back at home, safe and in his arms. He felt her fingertips curl into the material of his shirt to bring him close and he couldn't help but reach under the hem of her dress.

"Still got your nice clothes on." Barry grumbled against her lips as he reached under her dress, pulling the hem up to her hips so he could finally see what was under it.

"The house was dark when I came home. I didn't want to wake you up when I got home, so I slept on the couch." She whispered as she curled herself into his chest, her head resting in the crease of his shoulder.

"Go have a shower, get changed. I'll start breakfast. Got nothing to do today, so can be just us." Barry mumbled as he released his hold on her dress to press his palms flat on the small of her back.

"Okay. That sounds nice." She nodded as she pulled her face from his neck to look at his face, her own hands resting on his hips.

"A'ight. Be out here waiting. You don't have to change your shoes, though. If you don't want." Barry smirked as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before he unwrapped her from his arms then gave her backside a pat to nudge her towards the bathroom.

"Nope! You missed your chance last night, Big Guy!"

Hotties:

@starkey-babie @barrysjumpsuit @fashion-fasting @sodasback @pogueslandia @vintageobx @rottenstyx @babeyglo @beauvibaby @soph0864 @plutooryectors @rafecameronspolo @whcclxr

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

#barry x reader #barry obx #barry outer banks #outer banks barry #obx barry #barry x reader fluff #barry baddies #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx imagine #barry obx fluff #barry obx x reader #obx fic #obx fluff

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Revelation

Breach Masterlist

Warnings: non/dubcon sex (series), general angst, some blood and anger this chapter.

This is dark!Winter Soldier/Bucky and explicit. 18+ only.

Note: SURPRISE! I somehow got this done this morning so voila!

I won’t demand but do ask for feedback; likes, reblogs, replies, comments, asks, especially on this series, but again, enjoy in your own way! <3 Love you!

A six-hour car ride and a brief flight saw you at a second safehouse; bigger and isolated from the world in a nest of trees. Steve accompanied you alone as Howard disappeared to ‘sort out business’. You watched and listened to it all, always keeping Luka close.

Your room was as big as one of the houses you’d lived in during your days in South America. Luka wanted to stay with you and you wouldn’t have let him sleep anywhere else. James, or Bucky, whoever he was those days, looked grim as he commented how nice it would be for you to have your privacy. You didn’t dare ask him to stay in the room though you wanted it. You had grown used to his presence.

You slept the first night soundly, waking only once or twice to look at the door. The usual shadow wasn’t there. That made you frown and run your fingers through Luka’s hair. You were safe now but that wouldn’t last, it never did.

You woke yawning, the hours of sleep reminding your body of its long-hewn fatigue. You could have slept for days. You peeked out into the hallway and Luka pushed past you, sprinting out the door. You followed him and called him back to you with a reprimand. He was excited about all the new places.

“Mishka, you stay close, we’re only going to get some breakfast,” you said as you took his hand.

“Mama, this place is so big! I wanna stay here forever,” he sang as he tugged on your arm.

“Why, so you can tear the walls down?” you tutted, “What has gotten into you?”

“Papa’s friend, Steve, he told me he fights the bad guys,” Luka swung your arm, “will he fight the ones who hurt you and Papa?”

You stopped just outside the kitchen. You turned Luka to you and bent to look him in his face. “What men, mishka?”

“The one’s we’re running from,” he said innocently.

You gulped and cradled his face in your hands, “don’t you worry about that, my love, me and your father will always keep you safe.”

The boy looked confused but didn’t ask more, he only nodded and you stood with a sigh. You took his hand again and pulled him into the kitchen. You sat him on one of the tall chairs along the island counter and searched the fridge. You poured each of you a bowl of Cheerios and pushed his across to him as you leaned on the other side of the counter and spooned up the cereal.

“You’re here,” James’ voice startled you as he came to a sharp stop just inside the doorway, “you weren’t in your room, I was--”

“You said we’re safe here,” you lowered your spoon, “Luka was hungry.”

“We are safe,” he exhaled and slowly crossed the room to stand at the end of the counter.

“You want some?” you shook the box at him.

“Eat,” he took it and grabbed a bowl of his own, “I’ll get it.”

He added milk and sat beside Luka. Your son smiled at him and received a goofy look in return. There were moments James wasn’t so guarded but those were always reserved for your son, never you. When he looked at you, you only saw his guilt and pain.

“Howard will be here at noon,” James said as he turned back to you and stirred his bowl, “I’ll talk to them first.”

“Talk?” you asked.

“They need to know… everything,” he said reluctantly, “you watch over Luka while I’m with them and try not to worry. We can trust Steve.”

You nodded and scooped another spoonful into your mouth. You chewed and stared at the counter. That wasn’t what you were worried about, how could you explain all that had happened?

✰

After you ate, you took Luka to the living room and Bucky left you again. After some giddy pleas from your son, you turned on the television. There were few times in his life, and yours, that you had the luxury of a screen. You sat and watched puppets spell and count for a while before you grew bored.

Luka tired of the wooden car he’d outgrown a while ago and jumped on the couch. You tried to get him to stop but only found yourself out of breath.

“Mishka! You will break it,” you caught him mid-leap and swung him down onto his feet, “why don’t we play a game?”

“Oooh, hide and seek!” he chimed.

“I don’t know, that might not--”

“Please, papa hates that game but it’s so fun,” he clapped, “please, mama.”

“It is fun when you can only hide in the broom closet. You will get lost in here.”

“Promise, mama, I will not go far, please?”

You sniffed and stared into his hopeful eyes, James’ eyes. “You stay on this floor and do not go past the stairs, understood?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he squealed, “now mama, you have to close your eyes. No peeking.”

“I know how this game works,” you sat and covered your face with your hands, “thirty seconds, mishka.”

“Thirty?” he whined.

“Twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”

You heard his feet stamp away and you smiled, counting louder with each number. When you reached one you got up and went to the hall. You looked up and down for any telltale sign of him. Nothing was different.

You went to the kitchen and searched all the cupboards and the pantry. He wasn’t in there. As you checked the closets and still did not find him, you felt the panic rising in your throat. Your heart hammered as you ran around the stairs, he hadn’t listened!

You heard a voice, a high pitch you knew well. The front door was open just a crack and you ripped it open as you followed Luka’s sing-song. He sang a Russian tune you taught him as he was carried on the back of a dark-haired man. You ran across the porch and past the armored car in the lot.

You tore Luka from the stranger’s back and both cried out in surprise. You put your son down as the man turned to you. You grabbed the collar of his shirt and punched him as hard as you could, just as James taught you. You heard the crack of his nose as you pulled back again.

“You take my son!” you snarled as he put his arm up to block your next strike and your hand gleaned off his chin, “my son! I will kill you.”

“Mama, mama,” you felt Luka tugging at your pants.

“Go inside, Luka,” you barked ready to strangle the man.

“He’s wasn’t taking me, mama, we were playing,” Luka begged, “he’s just a kid, like me.”

You stopped and looked the man in the face. Luka was right, he was sixteen, maybe seventeen, familiar even. You growled and let him go hesitantly. You pulled Luka close to you.

“Who are you?”

“I should ask you the same,” the adolescent stemmed the blood leaking from his nostrils with the heel of his hand and tilted his head back, “you sure pack a punch, lady.”

“Who?” you stepped forward again and he backed away.

“Tony,” he snorted and turned to spit up blood onto the ground, “Tony Stark, Howard’s son.”

“Howard?” you blinked, “oh, I--” you looked down at Luka who looked terrified, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I-- let me help you clean up.”

“Uh, I don’t think so,” he chuckled and backed away from you, “I think I can handle this.”

“Mama,” Luka huffed.

“I’m sorry, mishka, I did not know,” you grimaced, “I so very sorry, I really--” you looked at Tony again.

“I’m fine,” he pulled his cuff up to his nose, “really, I shouldn’t have just taken the kid.”

“I couldn’t find him, I was so scared, I--”

“Luka,” James’ voice drew you around. He stood on the porch and descended the steps carefully as he took in the scene, “what’s going on? What are you doing out here?”

“Playing a game,” you said as Tony shook his head.

“What happened to the kid?” James asked as he pointed at the bloodied teen.

“Your wife, that’s what happened,” Tony spat.

“She’s not--

“I thought he was taking Luka,” you interrupted James, “I’m sorry, I--”

“It’s okay,” he took Luka’s hand and pulled the boy close, “you did what I showed you,” he turned to the younger Stark, “you should get that cleaned up or it’ll stay crooked.”

“Uh huh,” Tony dragged his feet through the dirt towards the house, “such a pleasant little family.”

You watched him go and hung your head. You felt awful and held up your shaky hand, your knuckles sore from the assault. Bucky took your hand and looked it over.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I hurt him,” you said, “I hurt a kid.”

“He’s fine,” James assured, “I’ll talk to Stark, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry, papa, we were playing hide and seek and I didn’t tell mama I was going outside--”

“I told you not to play that game,” James looked down at Luka, “this is why, because you scare us.”

“I’m sorry,” Luka repeated.

“Well, everyone’s safe so…” he rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand as his eyes met yours, “it’s your turn, I’ll keep and eye on Luka.”

“My turn?”

“Upstairs, they’re waiting,” James said and raised his hand as if he would touch your shoulder but instead dropped it, “answer the question but you don’t need to talk about what you don’t want to.”

You nodded and swallowed as you looked past him to the front door. There were no questions they could ask that you didn’t dread.

✰

Howard and Steve sat on the other side of the table. It felt like a real interrogation, like you’d done something wrong. And yet, as you explained your time at Hydra, from employee to experiment, neither seemed to flinch, they listened and took notes but did not show the horror you felt.

“Do you know what they were doing to your son the day of your escape?” Stark asked.

“No, I was… sedated for much of it, they took him from me and--” you shook your head, “I was so angry, I never been so angry and when I woke I felt invincible and when the doctor came, I would’ve killed him, I think.”

“And I know it’s probably a moot question but you don’t know what they were giving you? The capsules, the drip?”

“I never seen the charts,” you shrugged and looked down.

Your hands were trembling and you were overwhelmed. It was the first time you said any of it aloud and once you started, it streamed out like a river. Now that it was all out, the emotions began to flow too.

Then the realisation and the fear. It was, easy even for you, to guess what Hydra intended for your son. He was to be like his father, more efficient than his father. You lifted your head, terrified, and glanced between the men furtively.

“My son is not a weapon,” you said, “know that and do not make him one.”

“That is not our intent,” Steve assured softly, “that is not the type of weapon we use. That’s why we’re here, away from SHIELD, away from Hydra, we can’t let this happen to anyone else but given what we know, this experiment wasn’t just shelved. There are others out there and we need to get to them before another Winter Soldier appears.”

“But how… me and James hide for so long,” you said, “we cannot possibly know--”

Steve’s throat constricted and he looked at Howard. They weren’t telling you something.

“What you have told us today is all we need from you,” Stark said evenly, “It is a start for us to uncover the rest.”

“Uncover?” you blinked and frowned, “what do you mean uncover?”

“You and James have given us locations, details, security procedure,” Stark continued, “with that, we can gain access to the information we do need and find out where they’ve moved their new Soldat operation--”

“No,” you snapped as your chest squeezed, “you would send him back there?”

“We didn’t say--”

“You don’t tell me but you think I am stupid. I know James and I know he feels so bad he would go back to die,” you snarled, “he did nothing wrong. It was not him!”

“But… you, uh, he--” Howard began awkwardly.

“Hydra did that, Hydra made him that monster and he doesn’t not owe you anything. He killed the men who would take my child from me and he kept Luka safe, he is done.”

“Look, Bucky is my best friend and I understand, it wasn’t him, but he did those things, even if it wasn’t his choice and this is what we can do, this is the deal we can offer you. He gets us that intel and you get your safe haven.”

“And if he doesn’t come back?” you stood and slammed your hands on the table, “you would kill him all over again, Steven.”

Steve reeled as if you’d slapped him and Howard raised as brow as he looked at him from the corner of his eye.

“You friend? Really?” your English became more fractured as your rage rose and you hit the table again, this time leaving a dent in the metal, “you no friend to know what you send him back to. They not kill him, not his body, and they torture his mind.”

“Please, ma’am,” Howard said calmly, “it was his idea--”

“I don’t care, you let him!” you shouted, “You think him evil but I know he not. He save me and he has son. You would let a father die.”

“Just calm--” Steve intoned.

“No, no be calm,” you began to rant in Russian as you turned and stormed to the door.

“Where-- Wait!’ The men stood and followed after you.

“I go James!” you hollered as you strode out into the hall, “he trouble!”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #dark winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #dark!winter soldier #fic #series #breach #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america

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persephone-plasmids · 3 years

Text

Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

“You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

#fo4 #fallout #fallout 4 #danse #paladin danse #nora #sole survivor #fanfic #fallout fanfic #fallout fic #fallout 4 fanfic #fallout companions #danse x sole #danse x nora #danse x sole survivor

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nctsjiho · 3 years

Text

2 AM Healing [Part 2 of ‘2 PM Suffering’]

Click here for Part 1

warnings: explicit language, consumption of alcohol and medication, suggested attempted suicide (overdosing on pills and alcohol), anxiety

era: April 2021

❀ Things seem to take a big turn after Taeyong and Doyoung go check up on JiHo

“Wah~~ I can’t wait to get in my bed.” Haechan sighed dramatically as the 4 boys from the 5th floor were waiting on Taeyong to open the door.

The shoot had dragged on for a while, along with some other schedules and now it was a little after 2 at night. Johnny and Haechan had been whining about how tired they were and couldn’t wait to sleep. “At least take a shower first Haechan, you stink.” The older of the two snickered, earning a shocked expression from the smaller boy. “Hey! I don’t-”

“It’s past midnight and we have neighbours. Be quiet already.” Doyoung sounded annoyed which had the two boys shut up quickly. “And you, why are you taking so long.” Doyoung rolled his eyes at the leader who had yet to open the door. Taeyong rolled his eyes as well at the attitude of Doyoung and before he could say anything else, Taeyong pushed the door open.

Meanwhile, inside the dorm, JiHo had curled up into Xiaojun’s side. She had been sleeping for close to 12 hours straight now, the severity of her exhaustion very clear to Xiaojun. The only time JiHo had woken up, was when Xiaojun had gotten up to clean up the food he dropped when first entering her room. He quickly cleaned and went to the bathroom before joining a whiny JiHo back in her bed. He had sung a few more songs for her and decided to go to sleep as well after she had comfortably slotted her body into his side.

Completely forgetting that he had to send updates to Doyoung, Taeyong, or at least Kun about JiHo - partly because his phone was out of battery and otherwise because he physically couldn’t move because of JiHo’s deadly grip on him - he drifted off into his own dream world and hadn’t woken up since.

As the residents of the dorm arrived the first place Doyoung went to was JiHo’s room. His hand had barely made contact with the door handle when Taeyong stopped him from entering. “Is this a good idea? JiHo’s probably sleeping at this time.” Doyoung scoffed at the comment. “We haven’t heard from her since we left, for all we know she’s dead in there and you’re not even going to check.” “Kun said Xiaojun-” “Well Xiaojun hasn’t picked up his fucking phone once!”

The leader hadn’t seen Doyoung this mad before. He knew he was only worried about JiHo, so he could excuse his anger completely. Yet despite that, Taeyong was still taken aback by the amount of poison was spilling from the black-haired man’s lips. “Okay, let’s check.”

Doyoung softly pushed the door open, such a contrast to his earlier tense body language. Upon opening the door the light which came from the hallway illuminated the room, revealing how messy it was.

JiHo wasn’t the tidiest member when it came to her own room, but the visual Doyoung and Taeyong were met with was quite shocking. Pillows and blankets seemed to be thrown off the bed and even to the other side of the room. But among all the mess a certain few items had caught Doyoung’s eye.

Rather confused as to why Doyoung wasn’t commenting on Xiaojun and JiHo comfortably - a bit too comfortable to Taeyong’s liking - sleeping on her bed, Taeyong eyed his dorm mate closely. He watched as Doyoung reached out to a small white container, one he wasn’t familiar with.

Suddenly Doyoung let out a chuckle. Not a friendly-sounding one though. Not friendly at all. “What’s this?!” He suddenly yelled which startled not only Taeyong but also the two sleeping friends. Xiaojun jumped up from beside JiHo as he saw the two older members watching them.

“Doyoung hyung-” “Pills and alcohol?” He sighed in disbelief. JiHo was still laying down in bed, her eyes squinted as she tried not to strain them. “Lim JiHo? Please tell me you didn’t drink.” When JiHo only fell back down in her spot from her previous hoisted up position Doyoung already knew the answer.

He turned to Xiaojun, who was wide-eyed, seemingly terrified about the way he was woken up. “You know how dangerous this is?” Doyoung shook the pill bottle in front of the younger boy’s eyes. “Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?! If you found JiHo drinking and taking pills you should’ve taken her to the hospital!” “I told him I was fine.” The girl mumbled from where she had buried her face into her pillow. “Of course you would tell him that!”

“Or did you give these to her? JiHo normally doesn’t drink or take medication. So did you?” Xiaojun frantically shook his head. He’d never do such a thing and the fact his hyung thought he would, made him feel cornered, not being able to defend himself.

Doyoung’s chest heaved and so many thoughts crossed his mind. “Let’s calm down for a bit okay?” Taeyong carefully took a step closer to the two boys and placed a hand on Doyoung’s shoulder. “Calm down? This kid didn’t do anything after knowing JiHo mixed alcohol and pills and afterwards climbed into bed with her!” “That’s enough!” Johnny yelled from the doorway. “I’m just stating the facts!” “GET OUT!” A higher-pitched yell resonated through the room, followed by a few painful coughs.

All eyes were on JiHo’s heaving figure, as the boys were afraid to say or do anything. Everyone but one. “JiHo-” “Doyoung can you shut up for one goddamn second?!” JiHo yelled, sounding so desperate. “I’m just trying to help.” “You’re not only worsening my headache, but you are also chewing out my friend who has been taking care of me while I was alone. Xiaojun did nothing wrong, so let him be.”

A few seconds of silence followed before Doyoung approached his younger friend. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, but he shouldn’t have let you sit here after taking those pills and drinking. You know how bad this could’ve ended-” “For God’s sake, oppa you don’t get it. You weren’t here, so you don’t know what happened.” She groaned in defeat. Doyoung’s stubbornness wasn’t helping her growing headache, the one she had been able to forget due to her hours of sleep.

“I don’t have to be here to know that mixing these is bad!” “Can you stop?” “Do you want to die?” “YES!” JiHo stood up from her position, staring directly into Doyoung’s eyes with watery eyes. Everyone in the room collectively gasped at the youngest’s answer. Haechan who had joined after hearing the commotion felt his eyes fill with tears as well.

JiHo gulped as she felt the crop in her throat forming and blocking her airways. The two best friends just stared into each other’s eyes not knowing what to say. Doyoung was still processing what had just been said and JiHo was going over all the ways to explain herself, but she couldn’t find the right words.

“Is that why you took these?” Taeyong reached out to grab the bottle from Doyoung’s grip. His question caused the girl to break eye contact with Doyoung and she immediately shook her head. “No. I never thought- That wasn’t my intention. I didn’t even know this was alcohol. I didn’t mean it.” Her voice trailed off.

“How could you say something like that?” Doyoung’s voice was dangerously low and it scared JiHo. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t.” Doyoung just shook his head in disbelief before facing Xiaojun. In just a split second he had grabbed onto the collar of Xiaojun’s shirt and pushed him against the wall.

“Why didn’t you do anything?!” Doyoung’s voice quivered, tears already threatening to fall. “Why didn’t you take her to a hospital?” Doyoung lifted his right hand, balled into a fist. At the sight, the two older members rushed towards him. Johnny and Taeyong pulled back the yelling man, preventing him from potentially hurting Xiaojun. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ANYONE?!” Doyoung had completely lost it. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the great amount of guilt take over him. If only he had been there with JiHo instead of Xiaojun, that’s what he thought.

All the members stood there wordlessly as Doyoung continued to sob. Haechan crying silently in the doorway and the other members being completely lost.

Not being able to take it anymore, knowing that her members were making assumptions in their heads about why she took those pills, JiHo decided to explain the whole situation. From why she took the pills and drank the alcoholic beverage, to how Xiaojun had ended up sleeping next to her and why he hadn’t messaged anyone.

“The alcohol helped my anxiety and the pills helped my headache for a split second before it came back worse. I didn’t take many, I’m fine.” “How can tell us you’re fine when you’re suffering like this. Alone.” Doyoung stood up from where he fell to his knees earlier. The sobbing had stopped, but he was still very emotional. “Because I didn’t want to worry you guys, I’m already being a big inconvenience.” The girl explained sadly.

“You’re not an inconvenience to us JiHo.” Johnny said. JiHo just sighed, thinking of how the boys weren’t allowed to talk to her publicly, how they had to be careful around her afraid to ask something she couldn’t talk about, how they always worried about her even if she told them they shouldn’t. No matter what the boys said, JiHo felt like such a burden these past weeks.

JiHo fell back down into her bed and pulled her knees to her chest. “I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to die. That wasn’t why I took the pills. I haven’t slept in days because of these headaches and I was desperate to get some sleep. I didn’t even know that juice was alcoholic, but it helped me calm down. It was the first time in days I started to feel a bit more relaxed. It’s not that I want to die. It’s just that, some days, I rather feel nothing than feel the shitty way I’m feeling almost daily.”

Haechan who had been standing in the same spot this entire time walked up to JiHo and sat down next to her, pulling her into his side. “You should’ve just told us.” He watched as his tears fell onto JiHo’s shoulder and got absorbed by her grey tee.

“We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.” Taeyong had grabbed her hand and let his thumb draw random patterns on the back of her hand. JiHo nodded, wordlessly telling him she understood.

Doyoung cleared his throat causing everyone to look at him. “I’m sorry Xiaojun. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You were only taking care of JiHo.” “Hyung, it’s okay.” Xiaojun directly said, but Doyoung shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. I acted and said things before I thought and I didn’t even hear you guys out. I’m also sorry towards you JiHo.” JiHo just nodded in acceptance of the apology.

He then settled down on the bed next to JiHo. “Please stop keeping things like this to yourself. I know you might not like talking to us about it and I know with the way I acted right now, that you might never want to talk to me about these kinds of things first. But if you’re ever suffering like this, you can talk to any one of the boys okay? So if you don’t want to talk to me.” Doyoung turned to face Xiaojun. “ I completely trust Xiaojun to listen to you and be able to take care of you.” Xiaojun nodded firmly which caused JiHo to smile.

As JiHo felt the love of her members intensify, she let herself melt into Haechan’s embrace, feeling her headache subside until it was almost gone. Johnny pulled Xiaojun in a side hug to comfort him after all the commotion that went on. Suddenly JiHo noticed something in the doorway. A head of hair seemingly floating from one side of the door. “Mark?”

At the mention of his name Mark popped his head from behind the wall, the boy wide-eyed. “What are you?” “Haechan messaged us saying Doyoung and Xiaojun were fighting.” Yuta explained as he unexpectedly walked into the room. Doyoung and Taeyong both glared at Haechan, disappointed that he felt the need to make the other members worry. “I’m sorry, I panicked.” The boy pouted which caused the older two to soften.

After Yuta had walked in, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeil and Jaehyun followed. “How long have you guys been out there?” JiHo asked worried, hoping they hadn’t picked up on everything that happened. “A few minutes.” Jungwoo smiled sadly and the girl sighed. “Listen, Doyoung is right. You have 23 guys ready to hear you out. Don’t be afraid to talk to us.” Taeil sat down on the bed. JiHo nodded and looked around the room meeting all the boys’ eyes and seeing the amount of love and care in them. “Thank you guys.”

“Group hug!” Haechan yelled to which both Yuta and Jungwoo repeated the words and suddenly JiHo was suffocating because of the 10 guys who had thrown themselves on top of her. Luckily her bed was just a thick mattress on the floor or otherwise it had broken for sure.

And even though she could barely breathe beneath the pressure of 10 bodies on top of her, she basked in the love she was receiving and felt all her stress and anxiety leave her body for once. For once she knew for certain that she was going to have fewer sleepless nights ahead of her.

---

Side note: I hyped myself up this morning to write a good part 2 only for it to end up like this? jk, I love the story and the little fluff at the end, I just imagined it to pan out way differently (more angsty). It’s definitely not the most exciting thing to read but if you’ve made it this far, first of all thank you <3 and secondly I think this just gives closure to part 1.

Thx to anon for suggesting this though and if there is anything that has been mentioned before that you want to get some extra information on or just things/scenarios you want to read, let me know! My inbox is open so feel free to send me anything <3

#jiho.writings #nct 24th member #nct addition #nct angst #wayv angst #nct scenarios #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct doyoung imagines #nct doyoung angst #doyoung angst #xiaojun imagines #xiaojun angst #nct fluff #nct female member #nct extra member #nct additional member #kpop!addition #kpop!oc

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missymurphy1985 · 3 years

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The Return

It's been 2 years since you were last in Dublin. 2 years since you up and left without warning, saying goodbye to your life there and restarting somewhere completely new. Sometimes, you have to go backwards in order to move forwards.

Requested by @noctvrnalmoth I hope you like it!

*Featuring Jim from the Delinquent Season*

Stepping off the train into the platform, you sighed. It all looked the same, and yet so different. Pulling the buggy open, you gently strapped your sleeping son in and made your way to the taxi rank, your suitcase trailing behind you. A kind lady helped you with your bags and waited with you for an available taxi.

"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders there, are you okay?" She sat next to you on the bench as your son murmured adorably in his sleep. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry..."

"No don't be sorry.. just been a long time since I came back here is all. Few loose ends to tie up." You glanced at your son's sleepy features as his eyes started to open. Beautiful, ocean blue eyes alongside his dark hair, growing more every day... The memories of that night flooding back before you took a large gulp of water from the bottle in your bag, forcing them back down. You'd done so well... 2 years and you'd built a new life in London. New friends, amazing new job allowing you to put that degree in marketing to good use - you were finally making a complete fresh start. But the secrets you had buried deep inside kept coming to the surface the more your son grew. He deserved to know his roots, who his father was, you knew that, but you couldn't do it.

Choking a tear back, you thanked the kind lady for helping you as a taxi pulled up and she helped you to get in.

Pulling up outside your cousin Natalie's townhouse in the city centre, she was waiting for you at the gate to help with Jackson and your bags. Grinning from ear to ear she pulled you in for a huge hug once you'd got inside and settled on her couch as Jackson sat in this new lady's lap tugging at her earrings.

"I can't believe I'm only just meeting him y/n.. he's the image of you!!" She kissed his cheek, bringing him up to look at him properly for the first time not over Skype.

"I never see it, I just see.... I just see him I guess..." You mind wandered to the man you actually saw, but you didn't let it slip.

"Those EYES!!! So blue and vibrant, just beautiful!" Natalie was swooning now, she'd never seen eyes that blue on a baby. Your eyes were brown, so he clearly inherited them from his father, although you had never revealed his identity - just a drunken one night stand and he wasn't involved. You weren't lying, technically...

After catching up properly, Natalie told you she'd planned a few people coming over to welcome you back that evening - nothing major, just a few friends from years ago that were keen to see you after so long away.

"Oh.. yes, that would be nice... Um, who's coming?"

"Well I think David and Amanda, possibly Caroline.. I think Liam is asking Jim too but I'm not sure if he's up for it - he's been through a tough time lately.." you caught a gasp in your throat at the sound of his name. Last you heard, through Natalie, he and Danielle were going through a rough patch. Cheating accusations on both sides, they'd agreed to a trial separation. "Apparently she isn't as broken hearted as once thought - already shacked up with someone new, fancy house on the coast, new Jag on the driveway, she's doing quite well for herself!" Your chin began to wobble, not unnoticed by Natalie, who placed Jackson in his bouncer on the floor and moved to place a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine Nat, honestly I'm good. It was a long time ago, things have changed. I'm not that silly little girl with a crush anymore..." Natalie looked into your eyes. Nothing ever got past her.

"Y/n.. when I said I'd never seen eyes that blue, I meant on a baby. Only one person I know has eyes like that, and I think you know too. Tell me the truth, please?" You were frozen, until tears escaped and you couldn't stop them. Jackson looked to see his mum crying and began crying too. Scooping him up, you held him close.

"It happened once... Just once Nat... And he doesn't know and he doesn't need to know, let's just leave it there, yeah?"

"What?? This is Jim's son? I was almost kidding y/n... How could you keep this from him for 2 years??" She was stood up now in complete shock. Jim wasn't just her friend, he was her husband's brother - this made things even more intense. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

"Please Nat... This wasn't easy okay? I was 21, I slept with a married man, and I got pregnant... Then mum died.. I had to go back to London to sort out the funeral and the will... I didn't want to be seen as the homewrecker that got herself knocked up..."

"And what about Jackson? Doesn't he deserve to know his father?"

"Of course... And he would.. when I was ready Nat. And I'm not ready..."

"Not ready for what?" Liam, Natalie's husband was stood in the doorway, as you heard the front door close. Now standing next to him was the man you were desperately trying to avoid... Jim stood behind him, eyes wide at the sight of you with a baby in your arms.

"Baby, we need to go pick up that delivery from the post office, remember the one we missed last week?" Natalie pulled a confused Liam out of the room, leaving his brother and you alone.

"Y/n... Hey.. um.. how are you?" You tried to smile in response but your heart was pounding in your chest, you could barely breathe.

"I.. yeah.. um, yeah I'm okay.." you glanced down at his hand.. the wedding ring was gone. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Olivia..."

"Probably for the best eh... We weren't exactly getting along, just stayed together for the kids I think. They're older now though, they're fine. Y/n.. where did you go? Why did you go?"

"My mum was ill... She'd had a stroke and they couldn't save her, I had to go... I just stayed.. and things happened.."

"You had a baby..." He looked at the little boy in your arms, feeling extremely nervous now. "He must be just over a year old, right?" You nodded.

"13 months.."

"And we... We had sex y/n.. the day before you left..." His own breath was faltering now as the dates in his mind started to catch up. Again, you nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. The realisation of what was happening dawned on Jim. He started to back away, before shaking his head and storming out of the house, the door slamming behind him making you and your son jump.

Your sobs came out in full force now, Liam and Natalie coming back into the room. Liam took Jackson into the kitchen to find him something to eat as Natalie held you.

"It's okay y/n... Give him time yeah? Poor guys just had the shock of his life, he'll come round." Your heart was sinking.. you hadn't meant for any of this to happen, but here it was. The memory of that afternoon had never left you, you hadn't even been able to move on - your son, for starters, looked just like him, how could you find love with anyone with the constant reminder of the man you'd never have around you 24/7.

Flashback

"I'm so sorry Jim, I didn't know who else to call..." You climbed into his car, cheeks burning as he picked you up from outside the pharmacy. You'd been walking along the road when a pothole in the pavement took you by surprise and you'd tripped, your ankle turning funny - the pain was horrific, but no one seemed to be answering your phone calls when you rang around for someone to come pick you up. Reluctantly, you'd dialled Jim's number, your cousin's brother in law. He'd given you his number the previous week, after offering to help you move into your new apartment later that month.

"No problem, I was just dropping the kids at school so I was only round the corner." He helped you into the car and drove you back to his house. "I figured your place is in boxes, no chance of a first aid kit either, I'm guessing?"

"No," You laughed. "Thank you so much.." you grimaced as you turned your foot round, trying to ease the pain.

"Definitely not broken, just need to rest it. I'll put the kettle on." Jim led you into the kitchen and sat you down at the kitchen table, and grabbed an ice pack from the fridge. Lifting your leg onto the chair opposite, he placed the ice pack onto your ankle. "Feeling okay?" He asked, flicking the kettle on and preparing two mugs of coffee.

"Much better.. thank you." Definitely better.. the physical contact from him was driving you insane, you had to swallow the blushes in your cheeks, praying he hadn't noticed.

"I've only got instant coffee... Hope that's okay - Danielle won't let me buy a coffee machine." He rolled his eyes. His wife was one of the tightest women he'd ever met.

"It's fine, thank you.. and I honestly can't thank you enough for coming to get me.. I can't believe how clumsy I am!"

"Hey those pavements are a nightmare - I'm surprised no one's broken a leg yet! Don't you be moving now, I'll take you back home once that swelling has gone down."

"How did you know how to fix it all?"

"I have a son, y/n, who at one stage a few years ago thought he was an actual superhero and would fling himself off anything to check if he could fly.. you learn the difference between a broken ankle and a twisted one pretty quick!" He laughed, remembering the time his son climbed the tallest tree in the park, giving him a heart attack before throwing himself from the top - luckily Jim caught him before he hit the floor.

"I think it's better now, Jim, I can try and walk." You said, after chatting for a while in the large kitchen.

"Let me help you.." he held your hands and guided you upright, your chests now pressed together as you placed your foot gingerly on the floor, testing it's strength. Stumbling slightly, Jim caught you, your bodies now even closer together. You could feel his heart racing, could he feel yours? His hands wrapping around yours, holding you up, an arm snaking round your waist. You looked up and found him looking right back at you, your face inches from his. Before you had time to think, you kissed him, before quickly pulling back.

"Shit I'm sorry... Oh god.. no... I'm sorry..." He took your hand in his and pulled you back to him, pressing his lips back to yours. This time you didn't pull back, your mouth opening allowing his tongue to dance against yours. Lifting you up, he sat you on top of the counter, his hands roaming your body hungrily.

"I can't... I shouldn't..." He murmured against your neck, the vibrations driving you wild with need. "You're so fucking beautiful y/n..." He ground your hips against yours, you could feel his erection through his jeans as you reached down to cup it through them, kneading it slightly. He growled, pulling your hand up to his chest, his heart hammering underneath his shirt. "You feel that? Feel how fast that's going?" Silently you took his hand and placed against your chest.

"Feel mine...." You pushed his hand down lower.. over your breast... Down your stomach and under the waistband of your skirt. His fingers found your folds, and he gasped your name. "I'm wet... I'm so fucking wet..." Lifting your skirt up, he pulled your underwear down. You relieved him of his jeans and they fell to the floor, revealing no underwear, just his huge, hard cock already leaking.

"I see you are too..." You ran a finger along the slit, taking some of the precum and lifting it to your mouth. "You taste good..."

"You want this...?" He asked, lining himself up against you. You nodded, and he pushed in easily, you gasped his name and threw your head back as he filled you completely. Pulling on your hips, he rocked you against him as he moved his own hips back and forth, fucking you against the countertop. You legs wrapped round his waist as his thrusts came harder, deeper, faster.

"Fuck... Right there... Jim... Oh god...." He bit down on your exposed neck, hands pushing against your still covered breasts, he moaned.

"Feels so good y/n... You feel so good... That's it baby, I need to feel you... Cum for me..." You leaned back, and eyes locked with his you drew a hand down to circle your clit as he moved inside you.

"Gonna make myself cum on you... Gonna cum hard for you... Faster Jim..." He pounded into you now, your moans echoing through the kitchen as you came over him, his release following seconds later. Both of you leaned your heads together as your worlds came back into focus.

Present Day

"Hey."

"Hey.." you'd agreed to meet Jim for a coffee a few days later. He'd called you the evening before, slightly tipsy which made you chuckle. Liam and Natalie were watching Jackson while the two of you caught up.

"How's the hangover?" You smiled, he grimaced.

"Well I've definitely felt fresher.. it was a bit of a shock y/n..."

"Listen.. for what it's worth.. I'm sorry. I didn't know I was pregnant until I was nearly 20weeks. With the stress of losing mum and the funeral, I hadn't had a period for a while but I thought it was just the stress.. then my friend convinced me to take a test and the doctors confirming it.. it was too late to do anything about it.. then I heard you and Danielle were trying for another baby and I just couldn't do it Jim.. I couldn't destroy your life like that.." your hands were shaking. He leaned over and took your hands in his.

"I understand y/n.. I do. I spent most of this week thinking about it. I don't blame you for what you did.. but I do wish you'd told me."

"I'd done enough damage Jim, sleeping with a married man? On his kitchen counter where he makes his kids breakfast? Where his wife makes her coffee in the morning? I couldn't face you.. I couldn't face what I'd done.."

"You know where my wife was, that morning?" He leaned back, smiling a little. "At her office, bent over the desk while her boss fucked her from behind. She called my number by accident while it happened. I didn't answer, obviously, I was busy.. but my voicemail picked up the whole thing. I'd had my suspicions for a long time, but that confirmed it. We were never trying for another baby - that's just what she told people to distract them from the fact we were clearly falling apart at the seams. Couldn't exactly be mad at her after what I'd done with you though."

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes, but she didn't know it was you. Then you up and left.. I thought there was no need to tell her who it was. I guess now we kinda have to, right?"

"Jim, I don't expect anything from you, okay? I have an inheritance from my mum, I'm fine for money, there's no need to be involved if it'll cause you problems.."

"No. You've kept him from me for nearly 2 years y/n, don't do this again, please? I'm not asking you to move in, I'm not asking for a relationship, I just want to get to know our boy.. that's all.. please?" You saw it in his eyes. It was there, for all to see. Was it love?

"I'll call Nat.. ask her to bring him over, maybe we could go for a walk?" Jim smiled, nodding. You made the call, and an hour later you were walking to the local park, Jim pushing the stroller. He took Jackson out of the buggy and placed him inside a baby swing, pushing him gently while pulling silly faces making him giggle. Your heart swelled watching them.

"He's incredible.. those eyes.."

"Your eyes, Jim." He looked up at you and smiled listening to his son's giggle, before he started becoming grouchy again.

"He's teething... Come on little man, let's get you back shall we?" Jim lifted him from the swing and placed his little finger in Jackson's mouth. He responded by sucking his gums along it, finding relief. You smiled, watching Him soothe your son's whimpers of pain as his teeth came through.

Making your way inside Natalie's house, you were surprised to find it empty. A note on the kitchen counter read that they'd gone out for the afternoon, they wouldn't be home until the evening. You warmed a bottle of milk for Jackson as Jim gave him some Calpol. Taking the bottle from you, he fed his son, as you watched, heart pounding as you watched the man you were still in love with take such good care of your baby. Within 15 minutes, Jackson was fed and had been rocked to sleep in his father's arms, you took him and placed him upstairs in his cot to nap. You knew he'd be out for at least an hour after all that fresh air. Walking back into the lounge, you found Jim sat on the sofa waiting for you.

"Come here, y/n..." You sat next to him as he turned to face you, hand gently caressing your cheek. "What are we going to do now?"

"I'm heading back to London tomorrow Jim..." His eyes glistened slightly. He'd just found his son, and now he was going again. He'd just got you back in his life, and now you were disappearing again...

"What can I do to make you stay?" His question took you by surprise. Stay?

"Jim, I..."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you.. about what happened 2 years ago. How long I'd wanted you, how long I'd dreamt of you, how I still dream of you even now.. and we share a son y/n.. I can't let you go again, it'd break me.."

"I'm half your age Jim! I'm barely older than your eldest child, how can this possibly work?" He answered with a kiss. Leaning forward to take your mouth against his, without thinking you returned it, linking your fingers with his as he pulled you into his lap.

"It'll work because we'll make it work.. nothing else matters.. all of that other stuff is irrelevant.." he felt you grind your hips against his and his erection was burning against his jeans. He needed you, now.

"And Danielle?"

"Is fucking a man old enough to be her own father - opinion invalid. I don't care about her, I care about you.. please.." he was aware of how desperate he sounded but he didn't care. He had his hand under your t-shirt against your breast, no bra in the way this time. Lifting you up, he carried you upstairs to the guest room you were staying in, and laid you down softly on the bed underneath him.

"Birth control?" He looked at you, smiling.

"The coil - don't worry, I'm covered this time.." You smiled back as he lifted your t-shirt over your head and kissed you again. The reason for being at the pharmacy 2 years ago was to collect your prescription for the pill - you'd not taken it for a couple of days after running out suddenly. After Jackson was born, you switched to a more efficient form of birth control.

Pulling your skirt down and off, along with your underwear, he nestled his face between your thighs, now parted by his hands.

"I want you to watch me y/n... Watch me as I make you cum..." Your core burning, you raised yourself up on your elbows as he blew a hot breath against your wet folds, causing you to shiver under him. He parted your lips with his fingers, before licking from your pulsing hole up to your clit, finding a rhythm that made you cry out and shudder underneath his tongue. Smiling, groaning into you, you tried to keep your eyes on him as he licked and sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth.

"Jim.. don't stop.. oh god..." You hadn't had sex since that afternoon 2 year ago, no one being good enough to compete with the man currently buried between your legs. No pleasure you'd given yourself since was a patch on this, and you felt that burning feeling in your stomach starting to rise. "I'm close... Mm... Fuck I'm close..." Your words barely a whisper but he heard them, pushing harder with his tongue as a finger entered you, hooking upwards to find that spot inside, the one you didn't think actually existed, but there it was.. you bucked against his mouth, coming hard and fast - you felt your liquids gush over his chin, there was no stopping them... "Aha... Oh god Jim... Fuck... Stop, it's too much..." He smiled, blowing another warm breath over you before moving back to your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, turning you on even more.

Flipping him onto his back, you lifted his clothes off him and kissed down his chest. Your core needed a breather before you took him inside you. Licking the top of his now rock hard cock, you slowly sank your lips down, taking him fully inside your mouth. You'd never had a strong gag reflex, and you enjoyed the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Holy fuck... Jesus y/n... That's it baby..." Up and down your head bobbed, swapping between hard and light sucks, your teeth gently scraping the underside of his cock and your fingers lightly playing with his balls underneath you. Every time you felt them tighten, you'd ease off, allowing him to catch his breath, before bringing him into your mouth again. After a few near explosions, he couldn't take anymore and lifted you off motioning for you to sit on him. "Ride me y/n..." You smiled, and sank your pussy onto him, allowing him to fill you. Slowly so as to adjust to his length, your hips moved, back and forth, up and down, finding the right rhythm for you both. He sat up, chests together and his hands under your thighs as he rotated his hips from underneath, driving his cock against that magical spot again.

"Yes... God that feels good... Jim..."

"I'm not gonna last long y/n..."

"That's okay.. we've got plenty of time to make up for this... Cum in me, give me all of you..." You felt his cock twitch inside you as he moved your hips faster. Leaning back, you rode him hard, the bed frame squeaking underneath as you both cried out, your climaxes arriving simultaneously. Coming back to rest your head against his, you clenched your core once more causing him to gasp as you drew yourself off him slowly. Lay down next to each other, he pulled you into his arms.

"Did you mean what you said?" He asked, kissing your head gently. "Plenty of time?"

"I meant it, Jim... I need to get back to London to sort a few things, put my flat up for sale.. my job... But yes. If you'll have us, we'll come back.." you looked into his eyes. He lifted your head to kiss you and you felt it. All the love you thought you'd never find, in the man you thought you'd never find it with.

Everything was going to be fine, you couldn't wait to start your life over again, this time for the last time.

@margoo0 @queenshelby @peakyscillian @cloudofdisney @ntmynouis @being-worthy

#delinquent season #jim delinquent season x y/n #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian x smut

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nincompoopydoo · 3 years

Text

PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT

— I’VE SEEN FIRE, I’VE SEEN RAIN ; PART 2 / ?

PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader

WORD COUNT: 1909

SUMMARY: Being laid off isn’t very fun but Bruce tends to find himself even more entangled in your life, including his alter ego—Batman.

A/N: I’m loving this series and if you are, feedback is appreciated. Thank you for reading my crappy stuff aka my daydreams <3

WARNINGS: Guns! Death threats! Crying! A mental breakdown!

MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

James Taylor’s Fire and Rain plays like a funeral hymn on the record player, echoing through your studio apartment. You’re sitting on the ground, back against the ratty couch with a pizza box on your lap. You take a bite of a BBQ Chicken pizza slice, furiously wiping your tears away as you replayed the events from six hours ago. From being called to the principal's office to only be told that you’re one of the non-tenured teachers to be laid off due to cutbacks. Gotham High was...a tough school. The students were mean to you because well, you're young and always gave them the benefit of the doubt. Plus, you taught English Literature and frankly, your students didn’t exactly enjoy the subject as much as you wanted them to. Nevertheless, you’re devastated. Teaching was a dream of yours, and it’s being taken away from you. You cried all the way back home, tried to call your mother but it kept going to voicemail. You must have called someone else, but you don’t remember and couldn’t care less to check your phone—the whole day went by like a blur.

Then, there’s a sound. An insistent buzz, it’s the doorbell. You furrow your brows, not recalling ordering anything else other than the large pizza from Domino’s. Yet, it doesn’t cease, and you’re forced to bring yourself to stand on your feet, instinctively flattening your tousled hair to make yourself seem somewhat presentable. Like, you’re doing fine and you have everything completely under control. Maybe, you did call your mother, and she’s at the door. You’re hoping she is although she’s going to kill you for the mess.

Another buzz and you’re toddling across the wooden flooring and towards the doorway. It’s starting to become infuriating by the second, like a house fly don’t won’t stop bugging you. Considering the mood you’re in, it doesn’t take much to tick you off. Swinging the door open, you expected to see the radiant face of your mother but to your surprise, it’s not.

It’s Bruce.

Shit.

You haven’t seen him in two weeks.

You nearly choke at the sight of him in a slightly crumpled oxford blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair as much of a mess as yours and tired eyes staring down at you with concern. You note how Bruce is very charming, no matter how disarrayed he is. Meanwhile, you’re realizing the current state must be a little startling. Your eyes are probably bloodshot, hair still in a tangled mess and glaring tomato stains everywhere on your GCU t-shirt. This is such a low point for you.

“Bruce,” you say, voice raising an octave with wide eyes as you stare at him like he’s grown another head, “What are you doing here?” His frown is immediate, seemingly confused by your question. “You called me.” He gestures to his phone within his grasp. “It sounded bad even though I couldn’t make out what you were saying half of the time,” He chuckles and holds up a familiar looking paper bag “So, I got you bagels. Three of them. Thought you could use some of these.”

It takes a second or two for you to finally process what he just told you before your emotionally wrecked brain decides to do the most irrational thing ever—You just start sobbing. You’re crying so hard that it terrifies Bruce. He blinks, thoughts racing. The sight of you in complete misery strikes him like a punch to his gut and for the first time, he doesn’t know what to do. Not immediately. Yet, through glassy eyes, you manage to notice the way his face dropped and morphed into pure horror. Justification is key, you don’t want to weird him out and think you’re crazy. You wave your hand in the air dismissively, rubbing your eyes as you spoke between strangled sobs. “I’m sorry, it’s been a tough day and that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me all week.”

Oh.

Your words are a tug to the heartstrings, and it sends his head reeling but relief was all that overwhelmed him. Bruce would never wish to see you hurt, especially when it’s caused by him. Actions of affection were primarily reserved for those closest to him, but he never experienced the urge to be intimate and care so much for a person ever since his parents died. Yet, out of everyone, you’re the one that brings out the most in him. Moving closer to you, he reaches and pulls you in a hesitant embrace. You stiffened at the mere touch of his arms around you, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Sure, you had a fair share of intimate moments with the man but this, this was different. You couldn’t shake the thought of how something so warm felt so right, smelt right. Despite the fact you had been trying to suppress your feelings for Bruce, and this was doing the exact opposite of that, you can’t help but feel this was what you needed at the moment. So, you let your body sag, muscles becoming loose and you let yourself truly cry for the first time.

You end up inviting him in later, when your tears are dry. You eat two of the bagels, sharing the last one with him. You called a peace offering, a gift of appreciation, for the whole emotional massacre you unexpectedly shoved at him. He simply laughs, eyes crinkling with fondness. He thinks you’re beautiful, especially when your hair is wild, laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. It’s what keeps him grounded, to know you’re raw and very real. The next thing you know, you end up shuffling cards of UNO until the wee hours of the morning—exchanging knowing smiles and Bruce trying to pick a Wild Draw card from the deck to get you to lose. But, he lets you win anyway.

He slept on your couch that night, still in his dress shirt. You must've peeked a glance at his sleeping form, squeezed onto the couch that’s clearly too small for him. Cute. You snap a picture before heading to bed. For blackmail purposes, of course.

You end up working a night shift at a burger joint called Big Belly Burger somewhere in midtown. Your first week comes and goes, and you’re starting to hate how your uniform itches and how the restaurant can get really filthy by the end of the day. Yet, it’s the kids from Cameron Kane High that come after school that keeps you going because it makes you miss being a teacher even though they tend to leave a mess after a meal.

Thursday comes and you’re exhausted. Even so, you’re thankful it’s a slow night. You’ve done all your cleaning duties earlier on and Lucie, the manager went out to buy a pack of cigarettes from the convenience store around the corner. Hence, it’s just you, slumped against the counter, devouring a Triple Belly Burger.

You’re half way through the burger when you hear the door swing open. Expecting to see Lucie, you turned around to see two men brandishing handguns your way. “Everything from the register, now!” The taller masked man shouted, gun gesturing to the cash register. Your eyes are wide, and you can feel your chest heaving. There was no way you’ll be able to fight them. Not two of them with guns pointed at you.

The burger drops from your hand and so does your heart. With trembling hands, you slide the drawer of the cash register open and begin pulling out dollar notes. From the corner of your eye, you spot your phone on the counter, close enough for you to make an emergency call. Your eyes scan the two men wearily and with every ounce of courage you had left, you managed to unlock your phone, pulled up the messaging app and texted the first name on the list: Bruce Wayne.

help, was all you managed to say.

To say your luck ran out was an understatement; you were never lucky anyway. One of the robbers must have caught on to what you were doing and just as the call goes through, he snatches your phone away, throws it onto the ground and shoots it.

So close, yet so far.

You don't know if the message got through.

The muzzle is now inches away from your forehead, and you hear the cock of the gun. “Don’t you dare pull somethin’ funny like or I’ll blow your brains out. Give us the money, now.” It was in that moment, your tears give way and your life flashes before your eyes. You pray for a miracle, a savior.

Then, you see him.

A looming figure appears by the doorway and your breath hitches. It’s Batman, looking like a Goddamn angel. The robbers seem to realize this too, guns quickly directed towards the vigilante. He launches batarangs to the pair of men and immediately disarms them. In a flash, he knocks them out, unconscious bodies dropping to the ground like dead flies.

You stare at him in awe although he’s very frightening and intimidating but Batman...just saved you. Now, this is a story you’re going to be telling everybody until the day you die. He approaches you with caution, and you instinctively take a step back. Then, he calls you by your name like it’s second nature. You stare at him with blank amazement, brows raised.

“You know my name?” Your voice dwindled; It’s so soft and timid you hardly hear yourself. Despite the mask, the vigilante looks like his brain just short-circuited for a moment. He clears his throat.

“...Bruce has mentioned you.”

You ignore how his synthetic voice makes every hair on the back of your neck stand and the familiarity that struck for a split second when he said your name because you’re too wrapped up with the fact that Bruce has discussed about you to his other ‘best friend’ as one might call it. Brooding over this lump of a thought, the corner of your mouth twitches. “He did?” you say with a hint of affection. It’s hard to read the man under the mask, whoever he was but you’re certain he looked taken aback by your response. Maybe, it was the way you delivered it—the longing in the very core of the expression. You may have outed your feelings for Bruce to...Batman.

This doesn’t get any stranger than that.

“Yes,” he replies curtly, and you hear the police sirens afar. “Are you hurt?” Like the true caretaker of Gotham, he wants to be sure you haven’t been injured. You shake your head, lips pressed together. The whaling of the police sirens grow louder, lights of red and blue flashing before your eyes. He appears like a shadow against the glaring lights from the police cruisers and before you can blink, he flees with a muttered ‘Goodnight’ and disappears before the police come flooding in and does Lucie. The poor woman looked at with frantic eyes as soon as she glimpsed the two men on the ground, groaning in pain.

The glint of the batarang on the floor captures your attention, you smile at this.

You may or may not have taken it back to your apartment that currently sits proudly on the bookshelf in your living room.

You’re so telling Bruce.

TAGLIST:

@raineeace

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #batman #batman x reader #batman x you #bruce wayne imagine #batman imagine #justice league

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years

Text

Once Upon A Summer (Ch.7)

Tony didn't really remember going up to Peter's room, but that was where he found himself. Sitting in the darkened room as the boy napped and watched him sleep. He always treated Peter like his own kid, but now it was actually, biologically true. Now all he could think about were the what ifs. And did May know? She didn't give any indication that she did, and now Tony was going through the fifteen years of his son's life in the span of a few days because of a wonky spell.

He supposed it was fate's way of giving him another chance to be in his son's life from infancy. And Peter had been a complete angel so far. Tony was actually a little jealous that he wasn't there when he was born...but he could understand why he might not have been told. He was a notorious playboy back then.

But Tony knew now and he was even more determined to give Peter everything once his mind wrapped around the fact that the boy was really his. It still didn't feel real.

Everytime Peter seemed to fall asleep, he grew just a little bit more as the magic wore off, and now he was about eight years old if Tony had to guess. In fact, he looked surprisingly familiar. Like he had seen Peter like this before. It was an itch he couldn't quite scratch, but it was easily pushed to the back of his mind when Peter finally stirred. Sleepy brown eyes blink open and the boy yawns before pushing his blankets away and sitting up.

"Hey Underoos. How was your nap?" Tony asks after clearing his throat.

"Good. I'm hungry." Peter mumbles as he rubs his eyes.

"It's not quite dinner time yet. How about a snack to tide you over for now?"

"Cheese and crackers?" Peter asks hopefully.

Tony laughs. "Sure. I think we can do that. If not, I'll send Mom to the store."

"I heard that!" Stephen calls from downstairs.

"He knows everything." Tony stage whispers, making Peter laugh.

Peter gets out of bed and Tony immediately stops him and looks down at his...diaper. It didn't grow with him this time and looked more than snug on the boy. Uncomfortable to say the least.

"Hang on kiddo. Let's get you out of that." Tony says, leading Peter to the master bedroom. "Friday, order something for Pete to wear. One outfit should be fine since he'll grow out of it tonight." He requests as he looks through his dresser.

"Yes Boss."

"Does he have his regular clothes here?" Stephen asks from the doorway and Tony looks over.

"Hmm...I think there's a few things I bought for him." Tony answers. "He still needs underwear that fits him though doesn't he?"

"Just stick him in a pair of those and a t-shirt." The sorcerer shrugs.

"T-shirt for now until the Underoos come." Tony snickers and pulls out one of his band shirts and helps Peter into it.

It was big and slipped over his shoulder, but it covered him more than adequately and Peter must have agreed since he peeled out of the room shouting about cheese and crackers. Stephen chuckled as he watched the boy go and his smile dropped a little when he looked back at Tony. The older man must have had a look on his face if the sorcerer was concerned.

"You alright?" Stephen asks softly.

"As much as I can be." Tony sighs. "I get this bomb dropped on me and while part of me is ecstatic, another is terrified."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"...when he's back to normal. I just hope he's not disappointed or thinks I abandoned him." Tony heaves another sigh and rubs his eyes.

"I've only seen the two of you interact for a few days, but I think it's safe to say that he adores you." Stephen assures. "And I'm not talking about idolization. He sees you as a father figure. Even proved it by calling you his father."

"He called Mom-" Tony smirks and Stephen rolls his eyes.

"We're not talking about me."

"Maybe we should." Tony says abruptly.

Stephen looks at him in confusion and Tony steps closer. This was a long time coming right? This talk? Or maybe he was mistaken and these feelings he formed were one sided? He wasn't one to question himself though. Tony didn't test the waters...he just jumped right in. So why was it different this time? Was this what it was like to be serious about someone? He only knew Stephen for a few days but he wanted to know more. He wanted to know if the sorcerer slept on his side, or if he snored (something told him there was no chance of that), or if he was the type to watch medical shows just to nitpick at the inaccuracies.

Tony would bet half his company that he was.

"What's there to talk about?" Stephen asks carefully.

"First of all, you stuck around. I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I expected you to only check in once a day...but here you are. Vacationing with us."

"As you pointed out, it was because I'm the one versed in magic and-"

"You know what I meant." Tony interrupts and steps a little closer. "Point two...Peter called you Mom and you didn't nip it in the bud." Stephen opens his mouth but Tony continues. "He was old enough to understand if you didn't want him to call you that. So why?"

Stephen swallows and Tony watches as the younger man's throat bobs with the motion. "I…"

"Point three…" Tony says, leaning closer. "You didn't send me to some weird dimension for doing this--" Tony pinches Stephen's ass and the sorcerer jumps. "--earlier. So either you didn't have the energy to care or...the curiosity isn't one sided."

Though it was brief, Tony saw Stephen's eyes widen for a split second before his face fell into neutrality again. Bingo. Tony's hopes flew to the heavens because Stephen was interested too. But he knew this wasn't just anyone else. He couldn't buy dinner and then expect to fall into bed with Stephen. Besides, he'd already done that the past few days. No, Tony wanted to properly woo the sorcerer. Make sure Stephen didn't feel like another one of his conquests... because he wasn't.

Tony could see a long future with him.

"Are you gonna kiss?"

Both Tony and Stephen startle and look down to find Peter standing by them and staring curiously up at them. When Tony saw how close he and Stephen ended up, he couldn't blame Peter for asking because he was so close to the younger man that if he hiccuped, he would have found himself lip-locked with the sorcerer. Tony was actually a little exasperated with Peter's ill timing but he did promise a snack for him. Who knew how long he and Stephen had been standing in the doorway of his bedroom.

"How about we get you some crackers?" Tony deflects and leads Peter back down to the kitchen.

"And cheese!" The boy declares, successfully distracted from his earlier question.

Tony looked over his shoulder at Stephen, who was descending the stairs behind them, and winked. The blush that adorned the younger man's cheeks was proof enough that his earlier assumption was correct and he really wanted to get back to that subject once Peter was properly occupied. Maybe a movie? No, it would probably have to be when the boy went to bed for the night. Tony still wanted to get every little bit of Peter's "childhood" while he could.

He decided to even make the lasagna he had mentioned earlier for dinner. While he got to work, Stephen helped Peter clean his shells and find a home for them. Even helped him get some underwear on when they arrived. Peter was given free reign of the tv until dinner was ready, which Tony was making the quick way, and Stephen sat on the couch to read. Tony would make the pasta from scratch another time, when he had time to prepare, but dried pasta would do for now. He, of course, took advantage of the sauce by asking Stephen to try it, and beamed when the sorcerer obliged him and was even impressed with the flavor.

When dinner was finally done, they all sat at the table with the lasagna and some garlic bread and Tony nearly laughed when Peter nearly inhaled a piece bigger than the flat of the spatula. The boy was suddenly growing quickly and Tony had to wonder if his mutant appetite was coming back. He would have to keep a closer eye on Peter.

"Enjoy dinner?" Tony asks Peter when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stephen had to grab a napkin to wipe his hands and face the right way, and made Peter grimace.

"It was yummy!"

"I'll make it even better next time." Tony promises as he gets up with his plate.

"I'd like to try it when you make the pasta yourself." Stephen admits. "But it was good."

"A dinner date? I accept." Tony smirks when Stephen blushes again and gets up with his plate as well as Peter's.

"Peter, go watch tv before it's time for a bath." Stephen says. "You need to get washed up before bed since we went to the beach."

"Okay!" Peter gets down from his chair and races back into the living room to watch a Disney movie.

Tony and Stephen cleaned up in the meantime, and Tony refrained from over flirting with Stephen. He'd already made the man blush at least twice in one day, but Tony would probably start up again once Peter was in bed. When everything was cleaned up, Tony herded the little boy up the stairs after his movie was over and ran a bubble bath for him which he helped Peter into once Tony helped him undress. To think just a few days ago, he would have been wildly uncomfortable with this situation. But now it didn't bother him. Maybe it was because Peter was actually his kid, or maybe it was because Tony had changed his diapers for the past week...or maybe it was both? Parenting wasn't easy by any means, but once he got into the groove of it, things didn't bother him as much.

"You alright by yourself while I go find you something to sleep in Underoos?" Tony asks after helping Peter into the tub.

"Uh-huh."

"Alright. Wash up." Tony leaves the bathroom to find another shirt and clean pair of underwear for Peter, content with the fact that Friday could tell him if anything happened in the couple of minutes he was gone.

Which was known to happen with kids. It admittedly made Tony nervous when he came across the potential accidents babies and kids could have while unsupervised. He had read that a baby could drown in a teaspoon of water and while he wasn't sure if that was accurate, he sure as hell didn't want to find out. He was glad for his AI for an entirely different reason.

"Alright Pete. Black Sabbath or Led Zeppelin?" Tony asks when he walks back to the bathroom with the two band t-shirts.

Peter looks over and tilts his head in thought. "Sabbath." He finally says.

"Good choice."

Tony helped him wash his hair, and Peter helped unplug the tub while Tony grabbed a towel to wrap him up in. The drying process was obnoxious and made the little boy giggle, and even Tony laughed when he pulled the towel away to find the mop of brown hair askew.

"Can I have a bedtime story?" Peter asks as Tony helps him get dressed.

"A bedtime story? What kind?"

Peter shrugs. "Dunno."

"Hmm…" Tony takes Peter to his room and helps him into bed. "Once upon a time, there was a little boy named Peter who went to bed. The end."

"That's a terrible story." Peter complains and Tony chuckles.

"How about the three little pigs? I think I can manage that." Tony offers and Peter nods and squirms under the blankets to get comfortable.

Peter was using the other guest bedroom since neither Tony nor Stephen expected him to grow back to normal like this. In all honesty, Tony thought he would just spring back to his teenage self, but it ended up being gradual. He didn't see the point of kicking Stephen out of Peter's actual room all of a sudden. They would deal with that tomorrow. At least an adult was still nearby in case Peter needed one of them.

Tony told him the fairytale of the three little pigs with his own spin since, in his own opinion, the original story was a yawn fest. By the time it was done, Peter was half asleep with his eyes almost closed and part of his face pressed into his pillow. Tony leaned forward to tuck him in and then kissed his forehead before moving away and standing. He quietly made his way to the door and turned off the light after making sure to keep a night light on, and as he started to slip out of the bedroom, he heard Peter talk.

"Love you Daddy."

Tony stops and looks back into the darkened room and smiles genuinely.

"Love you too Pete. Good night."

#supremefamily #stephen strange #ironstrange #tony stark #baby peter parker #peter parker

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