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yelena-bellova · 3 years

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Ten

chapter nine - Chapter Ten: Heroes - chapter eleven

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n, Sam and Bucky make one final effort to stop the Flag Smashers.

Warnings: spoilers for episode.6, violence, character death (major), wounds, blood, ANGST ANGST ANGST, Bucky and Y/n are a badass couple, Sam and Y/n are a badass sibling duo, everybody’s a badass, inaccurate medical care (unless you consider google legit then it’s for real lol)

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: GUYS. SECOND TO LAST CHAPTER. HOW DID WE GET HERE?!?! This one was challenging to write because I wanted to still make it mainly focus on Sam and not detract from his story while incorporating another one, hopefully I did it justice. Smaller amount of Bucky Y/n fluff purely because of plot. Imma shut up now and let you guys judge it for yourselves, hopefully you enjoy ☺️

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I’d always wanted to visit New York, I just never thought that the circumstances in which I’d come would be so dire.

Surprisingly, flying from Delacroix to the city hadn’t been as draining as I’d thought, the adrenaline rushing through me was enough to keep my stamina up. Once I got into the state I shot up higher, the only way to pinpoint the city’s location was by sight alone. The mass of flashing red, white and blue lights served as a literal guiding light and I followed it till my feet made contact with the ground. I landed in between two buildings, a safe distance away from the commotion but close enough that I could intervene if needed. Sam had told me to go ahead of him and meet up with Bucky, the two of us would be on the ground while Sam took care of business with the senators. “Something’s different…” the voice I’d gone days without hearing announced from behind me, “New haircut?” I smirked and turned to face Bucky, “Do you get bulletproof suits for all the girls that catch your eye?” “Only the ones I really like,” he smiled, cradling my cheek in his hand and giving me an overdue kiss before pulling back to admire the suit, “Looks good on you.” The suit that Bucky had the Wakandans design for me was made almost entirely of Vibranium. It was sapphire blue, the same color of my energy with accent lines of silver running through it to define the shape. It clung tight to my body without showing off too much, the v neckline ended just below my collarbone. Hidden behind Bucky’s note in the case had also been a note from Shuri, the princess of Wakanda, listing that the suit was bullet proof and should I choose to channel my energy through a specific part of my body, the Vibranium would absorb and redistribute it to amplify my strike. The whole ensemble made me feel an official member of whatever club I’d decided to join.

I opened my fingerless glove adorned palm out to Bucky, offering him one of the comms Sam had given me and placing the other in my ear. “Ready?” he asked.

For once, I could answer feeling fully confidant in my capabilities. I reached out and squeezed Bucky’s hand, giving a single nod, “Ready.”

The two of us made our way out from between the buildings and headed into the heart of the chaos. There were news crews, police officers, soldiers and SWAT teams while innocent bystanders quickly fled the scene.

“Sam, where you at?” I said into my comm.

“I’m almost there,” he replied.

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked from beside me.

“Karli’s gotta be close, keep your eyes open.” “Well, it could be anybody…” Bucky said quietly as we passed by a group of officers.

We headed for the building in which the senators were being held, the SWAT team immediately parting to allow Sergeant Barnes and myself to enter. Whether or not he was paying attention to anything other than finding Karli, I wasn’t sure, but I smiled internally at the fact that they’d recognized him for what he should have been recognized for all this time.

“Oh, we also called in some backup,” I relayed to Bucky.

“Excuse me, sir, ma’am,” we turned to see a man in a beanie following us, “Are you supposed to be here?” Bucky looked stunned and slightly concerned while I stayed calm, recognizing the signal. Immediately, Sharon ripped off the technologically advanced mask that concealed her identity. “It’s me.” “Sharon, what the hell are you doing here?” Bucky asked.

I gestured to the woman, “Backing us up…” “Relax, no one’s looking for me here,” she said, pulling on Bucky’s arm in an effort to get us away from the crowd. “Is that Sharon?” Sam asked over the comms.

“Unfortunately,” Bucky answered, earning a light, disapproving smack from me to his chest.

“Hey, Sam, I thought I’d get the band back together,” Sharon said into her earpiece.

“Thank you, you’re risking a lot coming here.” I took a step forward towards the blonde, “If you want me to fly you out of here, now’s the time.”

She gave a little shrug, “I hear pardons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway.”

“Depends on the therapist,” Bucky grumbled.

“They’re gonna move on the building soon. Be ready,” Sam’s voice flowed into my ear.

“Same goes for you,” I replied, trying to compartmentalize the constant anxiety that ran through me in regards to my brother’s safety. Though knowing he wore vibranium wings now did help ease my fears a little. I turned my attention back to Sharon and Bucky, “Let’s split up and do a perimeter check. Front’s clear so I’ll take the back, you two take the sides.” “Wow,” Sharon smirked, “Give you a suit and suddenly you’re Miss Take Charge.” I shot her smirk right back at her as she headed down her side of the building while Bucky and I went around the other way. “Somethin’ changed while I was gone,” he observed as we walked. “You made amends,” I replied, flashing back to my visit to the graveyard, “I made peace.” I expelled energy from my fingertips to float above him and fly to the back of the building, not a soul in sight.

“Y/n, Sharon, Bucky, what’s going on on your end?” Sam asked.

“Nothing, all quiet,” Bucky answered. “Same here,” I said, taking another look around me to be sure,

“No one’s moving toward the building,” Sharon added.

“Karli’s not coming in. She’s trying to force everybody out,” Sam said, “It’s a misdirect, we gotta keep everybody inside.”

I levitated once again and headed to the front of the building, finding Bucky and Sharon waiting for me. Once I landed, we entered through the glass doors. “You guys are gonna have to do something,” Sam panted through the comm, “Don’t let ‘em out of the building.”

We passed through the building’s metal detectors one by one with no issue, till the alarm sounded off on Sharon. “Oops,” she muttered unconvincingly. “Here’s one of them,” Bucky said, gesturing towards a man in a security uniform, a Flag Smasher, “We’ll get the evac.” Bucky and I winded around the halls but didn’t get far before a woman came walking towards us with a phone extended out in her palm, “Mr. Barnes, Miss. Y/l/n, it’s Karli.” How she knew my name baffled me, Bucky reached for the phone regardless and took note of the orange handprint projected on the screen. He placed the call on speaker, “Karli?”

“Aren’t you two tired of fighting for the wrong side?” the young girl asked.

Bucky scoffed as we stepped down a staircase, “I’ve done this before, kid. I know how it ends.”

“It doesn’t matter if I don’t survive this,” she replied, “I’m fighting for something bigger than myself. With all the bodies you’ve collected, have you been able to say the same?”

“You don’t think I ever fought for something bigger than myself?” Bucky asked, “That’s all I ever tried to do. And I failed twice.” I tugged Bucky’s arm so the phone was in front of me, “Karli, all I’ve ever wanted was to use my powers for good. I respect the fight you’re fighting but this isn’t the way to win it.” “Believe me, I know all about your father’s crimes,” she spoke back, “I looked you up after meeting you in Riga, and trust me, the side you’re on is no better than the one your dad was one.” My heart clenched at her words, I knew that she was a black and white person who only dealt in absolutes, but it didn’t mean hearing it didn’t hurt. “If you wanted to do any real good, you’d have joined us,” Karli continued, “You’d have needed to get your hands dirty, but you’d have made an actual difference.” “You think your cause justifies all this death,” Bucky stepped in and took the wheel, “But in the end, the nightmares won’t go away. You’re gonna remember all the ones you killed. Trust me. Don’t do this. Don’t go down this path.”

There was a hopeful pause over the line, followed by a disappointing response. “If that’s how the both of you feel, you should sit this one out.” I glanced over at Bucky, sharing the same tired, yet determined look I was displaying. “That’s not gonna happen.” “Well, thank you,” Karlie replied, “I’m glad you took my call, you’ve been a big help.” She hung up then, the realization hitting me immediately as to why she’d called us. “The evac,” I breathed, “It was a deterrence.”

“Damn it,” Bucky growled with a clenched jaw, “Come on!”

We raced through across the floor of the building, making for the winding staircase lit up with flashing emergency lights that would lead us to the parking lot. Since we were the only two fleeing the building that particular way, it was a safe bet to make that the hostages had already been evacuated. Once we were in the parking lot, Bucky took the lead and led me to a parked row of motorcycles, quickly hot-wiring one.

“Seriously, guys, you had one job,” Sharon popped out from behind a pillar to critique us.

“You worry about your guy,” Bucky grumbled as he swung his leg over to straddle the vehicle, I promptly did the same, “Good?” Locking my arms around his torso and scooching forward so my Vibranium chest was pressed against his back, I nodded. “Good.” Bucky floored the gas pedal and we rode off with an echoing screech, finding our way through the garage’s exit. A blockade of soldiers yelled at us as we quickly approached them, shooting through the gap between barriers and whipping around the street corner. On any other occasion I’d have enjoyed clinging tight to Bucky’s body as we rode through the cool New York evening air. Sadly, there was no time to savor the moment.

“That’s one down,” Sharon’s voice came through my comm. “How’d you manage that?” Sam joined in. “Mercury vapor, amongst other things.” Bucky made a sharp turn down one of the streets causing me to clutch his middle tighter, “Any idea where they’ll be headed?” “I thought you were the one in charge,” Bucky retorted over the engine’s noise. “You better speed things up, Sam,” Sharon said, “The chopper’s about to take off.” “Bucky, Y/n,” Sam called, grunts following directly after. Bucky halted at a light, determining the rest of our course. “I don’t fly, man, that’s your guys’ thing.” He revved the bike and turned down a different street.

I pressed a hand to my ear, “Meet you there.” Placing a reassuring hand on Bucky’s shoulder, I levitated off the motorcycle and watched him continue on his path while I turned in the opposite direction and headed back through the city. From across the way, I could see the silhouette of Sam’s wings as he jumped off of the building after the helicopter. The chopper had taken a nose dive and was headed for the street, pulling up just before it hit the overpass. I quickened the speed in which I was flying over the bay, catching up to Sam soon enough. He flew lower than me, his new wings dipping into the waters before he shot back up.

“Plan?” I called into the comms as I kept close to the rear of the chopper. “We gotta take out the pilot,” Sam answered, “Take the left side.” I flew to my designated spot and reached out a hand to grasp onto one of the bars of the plane. Reabsorbing my energy, I put full faith in my grip as I dangled off of the helicopter in mid flight. I poked my head out to the window on the pilot’s side only to be given a front row seat to his attempt to kill Sam, firing a machine gun till my brother was forced to pull back and off the chopper. The pilot whipped his head around to lay eyes on me, aiming his gun. Lightning fast, I let go of the bar and narrowly escaped the shots fired, throwing my hands out and expelling energy to resume my flight. Sam wasn’t far behind, we took off in tandem with one another with him sending Redwing ahead to see if any of the hostages had flight training. As the chopper plunged towards the water, we moved in synch with it, just a few hundred feet behind in a dance of sorts. In the distance, I could barely make out the shape of an almost identical vehicle headed towards the one we were tailing, this one bearing the logo of the NYPD. Our chopper rammed itself into the front of the police copter, sending it spinning in a spiral of smoke and fire. If we didn’t get there in time, it would crash into one of the skyscrapers or worse. Sam and I changed course and made a beeline for it. “Get the co-pilot,” Sam yelled as he swerved to my left.

I flew up to the side window and shot an energy blast towards it, smashing the glass and startling the co-pilot. I then levitated him out of the chopper and flew the two of us down to the bridge below us, Sam was right behind me with the pilot. The plane was losing altitude fast and was headed straight for our rescue party. Before I could even think to build a force field, Sam shoved me and the pilots down and shielded us with his wings. I felt the Vibranium shake as the plane bounced off of us and over the edge of the bridge. Sam retracted his wings and the two of us rose to our full heights, him in all his red, white and blue glory.

“Go, I got this,” he instructed, taking off into the skies before I could put up a fight.

I levitated high above the bridge to get a birds eye view of the city, “Bucky, where are you?”

“42nd Street, heading west,” he answered

“I’m a tourist, those words mean nothing to me.”

“I’m passing a building with white and red lights,” he modified his answer. My eyes searched for the building he was talking about, spotting it quickly and taking off toward it. I looked below me to see two humvees and multiple bodies running around them. “Found them, they’re trying to build a-“ “I see ‘em, coming in hot,” Bucky interrupted, I could see his motorcycle speeding down the street and toward the barricade the Flag Smashers had arranged. Taking a leap, or rather a fall of faith, I absorbed my energy and free fell, throwing my hands out and releasing it just before my feet hit the ground. Bucky wasn’t far behind, leaping off his motorcycle and diving forward to tackle one of the Flag Smashers. The man jumped to his feet and Bucky engaged him in combat, the two exchanging punches with Bucky having more favor. In a split second of separation between the two I shot a blast of energy at the man that sent him flying backwards into the side of a truck, creating a super soldier shaped dent in the car. A sudden explosion sounded off nearby, I turned to see that one of the humvees had been set ablaze. Bucky and I ran to the vehicle, I sent an energy blast towards the high tech lock that had been placed on the back doors. It did absolutely nothing.

“Hold on,” Bucky shouted to the screaming hostages as he used his Vibranium arm to pull on the door handle. Even he couldn’t get it open. “Help me!”

I focused all my energy on the lock, sending unsuccessful blast after unsuccessful blast. Letting out a frustrated cry, I backed away giving Bucky another chance to try. He began throwing a stream of relentless punches, his determination growing with each hit. Eventually he’d done enough damage that he switched to pulling at the door’s bar. The pain on his face as he pulled was heartbreaking, the tendons and muscles where his prosthetic met his flesh stretching to too great a length. Making one last ditch effort, I extended my energy towards the handle to help him in his efforts. Together, we strained and struggled until the lock finally broke and the doors opened. While Bucky kept his footing, I fell backwards doing a very ungraceful somersault and landed on my side. What I saw happening in front of me was almost too shocking to believe, and yet not at all.

John Walker was getting his ass kicked by the Flag Smashers.

With a replica of the iconic shield that was definitely not made of Vibranium and his suit, he was lying on the ground being pummeled by the super soldiers. With the vigor in which they were attacking him, I knew that the metal wouldn’t protect him forever. The man that I hated, who had tried to kill me, Sam and Bucky, who had shed innocent blood on Steve’s legacy…I could have let them kill him and I should have wanted to.

But even in my hatred, I couldn’t let a man die.

I rose to my feet and sent a stream of energy towards two of them, knocking them a few feet away from Walker. The third who I deduced to be Karli, came charging at me. I threw up a force field to act as a shield and met each one of her punches with the energy. She let out grunts of frustration, going for a roundhouse kick but giving me just enough time to drop the field and levitate her into the air. I held her there a second, watching her flail about trying to escape before tossing her several hundred feet away from us towards the end of the street. The two Flag Smashers that I’d knocked over came charging back toward me, it was time to test out just what the suit could do…

I focused my energy out through my elbow and hit one of them square in the jaw, the energy sending him rolling down the road far greater a distance that I’d have been able to cause without the Vibranium amplifying it. I turned around to the other one, dodging a quick punch before sending my energy down to my foot, landing a kick my attacker’s stomach that caused him to go airborne and land on top of one of the trucks. Unfortunately, the first guy didn’t stay down as long as I needed him to and came up from behind me and landed a kick to my back. I fell to the road with a groan, felt the burn of the asphalt as it shredded my cheek. I heard the man rip something metal followed by the sound of his thick boots coming my way, undoubtably he’d grabbed something to use as a weapon. As I rose to take another stand, I saw Bucky come running past me and turned to watch him knock the Flag Smasher over, the man dropping the toll meter he’d been holding as a bat over me. Bucky strode forward and they began fighting one another with punches and kicks while I looked around to see Karli welding the unattended meter. She swung it towards Bucky, his avoidance of the hit and my creation of a force field around him totally in synch. Karli took another swing at him and met resistance, unable to move the weapon as I froze it in place with my energy.

“You don’t have to do this,” I urged her.

With a yell she let go of the weapon and dove for me, being hit in the face with a chain that Bucky had picked up. Before I could stop it, the Flag Smasher who had originally intended to hit me with the toll meter landed a kick that sent Bucky flying backwards. His metal hand scraping the asphalt as he desperately tried to hold on before going over the edge of the nearby construction site. “BUCKY!” I cried as he screamed into the night air just before Karli kicked me down herself, and landed a punch to my abdomen. The Vibranium, while giving me protection, still allowed some of the blow to reach me and I was in just enough pain that I couldn’t go after the Flag Smasher that leapt down into the construction hole Bucky had landed in. I sent a blast of energy at Karli, throwing her back and allowing me the time to stand up and regain my footing. At the same time I rose, so did Walker, the two of us sharing eye contact that was oceans away from the last time we’d met on the battlefield. Separating once again, he turned to lift one of the Flag Smashers up by her throat while I landed a punch on one that was coming for me. The second van of hostages was brimming with horrified screams, both my and Walker’s attention being redirected to them. Karli, who stood a few feet away from us, made a run for the humvee and Walker and I chased after her. Walker braced himself with the shield and the two of them came face to face with one another. Giving another insignificant try, I sent a stream of energy towards the lock in an attempt to break it but couldn’t without Bucky’s brute strength. Behind me, I could hear the grunts and groans of Walker and Karli moving around as they fought one another. When the noises got too distant to still be close by, I knew I needed to go back Walker up.

I looked through the everything-proof glass window to the terrified faces of the senators. “We’ll get you out, I promise,” I yelled, taking off towards the fight.

Karli came running out from where they’d disappeared behind, I sent another blast her way that she dodged. She leapt into the air with a cry and raised a fist, I threw up a force field that she bounced off of and rolled to the ground. “This isn’t change, Karli,” I spoke up over the noise of the fire, “It’s murder.” The only response I got was another yell, Karli came charging towards me forcing me to throw up another shield to deflect her punches and kicks. I didn’t want to hurt her, I didn’t even want to fight her. It was different than with Walker where there was a mutual disliking of one another since almost the very beginning, she was just a kid looking to fight anyone who got in her way. Her cause was even something I agreed with, but I couldn’t stand by her taking innocent lives in the process.

Karli caught my exposed neck, gripping my neck tightly and holding me in the air. The bruises from Walker’s assault hadn’t fully healed and Karli was squeezing far tighter than he had. Thinking quickly, I swung my legs around to the back of her knees and forced my energy out of my feet as I slammed into her legs. The two of us fell in a heap, Karli on top of me with her grip loose enough on my throat that I could get out of it and flip her over. I pinned her hands to the asphalt on either side of her head using my energy, “You can stop all of this right now,” I urged over her furious cries, “Karli, please.”

Karli snarled at me before moving her knees to hit me in my back, throwing me off balance and giving her the perfect opportunity to launch me down the same hole Bucky had fallen down. I caught myself mid air and looked down to see Bucky and one of the Flag Smashers fighting with a metal beam, Bucky gaining the upper hand. I dropped to the ground and ran to him as he landed a final strike against the man, knocking him to the ground. As my hand reached out for his arm, there was a violent crash above us. We looked up to see that the humvee filled with the hostages had been driven off the road and was balancing on top of the construction. It teetered on the edge, ready to slip at any moment and finish Karli’s plan. I extended my energy to steady the vehicle, I wasn’t sure what made me think I could keep a couple thousand pound vehicle suspended in midair but the fact that I’d never used my powers like this didn’t matter. I had to try. As it rocked back and forth against my energy, I took a stance and dug my heels in the ground, sending up the steady streams I’d recently discovered I could produce. They curved around the front of the vehicle, protecting it from falling any further. The screams of terror from the hostages were my motivation to keep going, to do everything in my power that I could do save who I could.

After a few seconds of bearing my teeth and groaning in struggle, the load lessened slightly. I opened one of my eyes that had been squeezed shut in concentration to see Walker’s homemade shield near my feet, the decommissioned captain above me pulling the truck from the back. For once, we were working as a cohesive unit. Who would have thought…

All was short lived though as the second we were making progress on getting the humvee away from the edge, Karli and two other Flag Smashers jumped Walker and attacked him. Unable to hold them off, they toppled over and fell into the pit alongside Bucky and I. I cried out as the full weight of the humvee became mine to bear once again, fighting harder than ever to keep it from falling. Every muscle in my body clenched as I kept the streams flowing while also slowly rising off the ground, wondering if it was possible for my body to run out of energy with how much I was throwing into my stand. I had to save them, so long as I was able to fight, I wouldn’t allow any more innocent bloodshed. My hands shook, causing my streams to shake and I groaned as my body sent every signal that it couldn’t continue on.

As I started to falter, I felt something come up beside me and some of the heaviness was taken away. Looking to my left, Sam was in the air bracing the weight of the truck alongside me. I felt renewed with his help to rise with him as we used our combined strength to steadily raise the humvee back onto the beams of the construction site. Once it was secured, Sam and I both landed on either side of the truck and faced the crowd. I made the easy decision to fly back down into the pit, the moment belonged to Sam and no one else. Bucky was at my side at once, his hands on my arms and a careful set of eyes watching to make sure I was okay. I rested my forehead on his shoulder for a too brief second and nodded through my heavy breathing.

From in front of us, Karli launched a spear towards Bucky’s head that he easily got throwing it to the side as he stared her down. Sam’s shield came flying out of nowhere, hitting Karli and rebounding off of the other Flag Smasher before landing back on Sam’s wrist. Karli shed her mask, looking at him with disgust and shock. “You of all people bought into that bullshit?” she asked, examining his patriotic suit from a distance.

“I’m trying something different,” Sam answered, his voice steely, “Maybe you should do the same.”

A sudden explosion was set off, a grenade landing at our feet setting off smoke that blinded us. I quickly covered Sam, Walker, Bucky and myself in a large force field, as my eyes tried to make out Karli’s figure. “This way,” Sam directed, using the tech in his goggles to spot them. I dropped the shield and followed him, the only person I could make out semi-clearly in the haze. We ran down and through a nearby tunnel, weaving down underground hallways in search of the remainders of the group. “Hey Sharon,” Bucky said into his comm, “We’re underground. We entered the tunnel on William. Heading south.”

“Looks like they split up,” Sam announced, he pointed down a corridor, “Here.” Walker took off without a second thought, while Bucky paused in front of Sam and I. “I got it,” he pointed to my brother, brushing his fingers against mine before heading down the hall. Sam and I both watched them leave, my anxiety rising with each step Bucky took away from me. Shaking myself out of the spiral I knew I’d go down if I gave it any more thought, I followed Sam’s lead as we continued on our way. The sound of the Flag Smasher’s signature whistle echoed off the walls causing Sam and I to freeze, he determined where it may have come from and motioned for me to come forward.

“If something happens, you get the hell out of here, got it?” Sam whispered. “Nice try,” I replied, having flashbacks to the various times in the past week or so that we’d had conversations like this, “I’m not leaving you.” Suddenly, two shots were fired nearby. Sam and I bolted in the general direction that the sound had come from, fear flooding my body at the thought of Bucky being on the receiving end of one of the bullets. The worry caused me to run faster. We made it into a wider room, Karli standing in the middle with a gun aimed at a helpless Sharon, laying on the ground with a hand over her abdomen. I spotted the blood staining her shirt and threw a force field around her as Sam clipped his shield to his back. “Sam, stay back,” Karli warned, her eyes flicking to him briefly before landing back on Sharon.

“So, what’s next, huh?” Sam asked, taking careful steps toward her, “You kill ten this time, then, what, a hundred? Where does it end? Please,” he lowered his tone, “Let me help you.” “Don’t try and manipulate me,” Karli replied, looking between the blue barrier I shielded Sharon with and me. She twisted her body to aimed her gun at me, my resolve to protect Sharon stronger than protecting myself.

“Karli, don’t!” Sharon cried.

Sam dove forward and tackled the girl to the floor, somersaulting away from her as Karli raised a piece of cinderblock. She launched it at Sam who deflected the makeshift weapon with his shield. Karli swung at him and Sam jumped on top of a small staircase, his shield in front of him at all times. “I’m not gonna fight you!” he yelled, leaping off the stairs.

Karli continued her attack, Sam dug the tips of his wings into the concrete and met her fist with the shield. “Karli…” he urged just before she ripped the shield away and walked him backwards, Sam completing a series of jumps and flips. Karli grabbed a metal pipe and swung it at Sam, knocking him to the ground. “Stay down!” she growled.

Every instinct I had told me to go after the person who was endangering Sam’s life, anybody’s would be. But I knew that it was pointless to fight her, it was only giving her what she wanted. The serum enhanced people’s personalities, Karli had always been a fighter but now, she was looking to fight anything and anyone and would do it ruthlessly. I couldn’t buy into it.

I retracted the shield I’d built around Sharon and flew around Karli, placing myself between her and Sam. “Karli, the fight is over,” I breathed.

“No!” she shrieked, barely giving me enough time to throw up an energy shield before she threw a punch. Her fist bouncing off of it only angered her more and she began a relentless attack, banging her hands against the force field, taking swipes anywhere she could. I levitated over her head and landed a few feet away, luring her away from Sam. Karli was furious at the fact that she couldn’t touch me or get me to try and battle her. It didn’t take long for Sam to spring to his feet, throwing his shield out in between Karli and I. Karli focused her efforts on Sam then, punching the shield relentlessly as Sam walked her away from me. “Fight back!” she screamed in my brother’s face.

I extended my energy and pulled her away from Sam, throwing her a few feet away from us. Karli let out a battle cry and leapt forward, Sam and I coming side by side and holding up our respective shields. Karli’s fist rebounded off of my energy and spun around to hit Sam’s shield, he then grabbed her by the waist and turned on his thrusters, flying them across to room to slam Karli into a beam. “Stop it,” he ordered, gripping her by the lapels of her jacket. Karli replied by throwing him above her head into the ceiling, I used my energy to yank her away from Sam and in front of me.

“Listen to me, Karli,” I urged, earning a super-soldier shiner to my cheek, “We’re not your enemies.” Karli dropped me to the ground like I weighed nothing, the vibranium suit creating a dent in the flooring. I let out a groan at the shock and she ran off to deal with Sam. “Fight me!” she screamed as she clawed at the shield, “Fight back!” She flipped him over.

He fell.

The shield fell out of his reach.

Karli picked up the gun and aimed it at Sam.

He rose, accepting his fate.

Gathering the strength I had left, I got to my feet.

With trembling hands, knowing what I was about to do, I levitated and landed in front of Sam.

Karli’s face shifted, though I couldn’t read it as my emotions overwhelmed me.

A supercut ran through my mind.

Sam.

Sarah.

AJ and Cass.

Mel.

My mom.

My father.

A legacy rewritten.

Bucky.

Would he forgive me for what I was about to do? I hoped so.

“Go ahead,” I whispered, staring Karli down and blinking away the tears before she could see them, “Do it.” Karli’s face scrunched up as her finger prepared to pull the trigger when suddenly, three gunshots went off from nearby, hitting her. The gun fell to the ground and so did she. My eyes flew to where the bullets had come from, the sight of Sharon holding the smoking gun awaiting me. Sam dropped to his knees to cradle Karli’s head, the young girl staring up at him wide eyed and afraid. I knelt down on the other side of her, slipping her still warm hand into mine and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered, staring up at Sam before looking to me. The only thought that ran through my mind was she’s just a girl, she’s just a girl…As I watched the tears well in her eyes before the life drained from them and they shut, the sudden innocence overwhelmed me. She was just a girl…

I didn’t let go of her hand even when it went limp, holding it to my heart as I wept over her. Sam cradled her cheek as we sat quietly, the only sounds were my soft sobs and Sharon’s labored breathing. I couldn’t face her right now, my feelings were too mixed about the way she had saved my life.

Eventually, once an undetermined amount of minutes had passed, Sam lifted Karli into his arms and the two of us rose to leave. When I turned to tell Sharon to come with us, she was already gone, probably having slipped out a back hallway. Sam carried Karli’s body the entire way out of the building, I hardly registered when we made it outside in the night air.

“I’ll clear the way for you,” I mumbled, extending my energy and shooting into the air, Sam not far behind me. The wind blowing against my dried my tears off of my cheeks as I flew toward the glow of ambulance lights outside the building we’d started the night at. There were crowds of news crews, there were the senators we’d saved and officers cleaning up the wreckage that had been left behind. They all noticed as I flew up, landing in the midst of it all and scanning the crowd for Bucky. Once I spotted him and Walker towards the very back near the ambulances, I ignored the reporters asking me questions as I weaved through the chaos. Bucky strode forward as I neared and wrapped me in his arms, I let go of the breath I’d been holding in my chest as soon as our bodies met. He was okay. My hands held the back of his neck as I dug my face into his shoulder. He tapped my waist and I turned to see Sam flying in, resembling the an angel with his outstretched wings as he landed. He carefully passed off Karli’s body to the paramedics who placed the girl on a stretcher, carrying her off to who knows where.

Sam walked towards the crowd, doing the same as me and ignoring the reporters flooding him with unimportant questions. He had flown in carrying the dead body of a kid and here they were, asking him if they should refer to him as Captain Falcon. He stopped in front of the senators who were busy thanking him for dealing with what I heard one refer to as ‘terrorists.’

“Are you still going forward with resetting the borders?” Sam asked.

They answered, and while I couldn’t hear their words, I could read Sam’s face well enough to know it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You have to stop calling them terrorists…” “What else would we call them?” one of the senators asked. “Your peacekeeping troops carrying weapons are forcing millions of people into settlements around the word, right?” Sam continued, “What do you think those people are going to call you? These labels, terrorists, refugees, thug. They’re often used to get around the question ‘why.’

“Those settlements that happened five years ago, do you think it is fair for governments to have to support them?” another senator asked. “Yes,” Sam said plainly.

“And the people who reappeared only to find someone else living in their family home, they just end up homeless?” the bearded senator pushed back, “Look, I get it. But you have no idea how complicated this situation is.”

Just as he prepared to walk away, Sam spoke up. “You know what, you’re right, and that’s a good thing. We finally have a common struggle now. Think about that. For once, all the people who’ve been begging and, I mean, literally begging for you to feel how hard any given day is, now you know. How did it feel to be helpless? Now if you can remember what it was like to be helpless and face a force so powerful, it could erase half the planet. You would know that you were about to have the exact same impact. This isn’t about easy decisions. Senator.”

“You just don’t understand,” the senator replied, probably the most ignorant response I’d ever heard.

Sam scoffed, “I’m a black man, carrying the stars and strips. What don’t I understand? Every time I pick this thing up, I know there are millions of people out there who are going to hate me for it. Even now, here. I feel it. The stares, the judgment, and there’s nothing I can do to change it. Yet I’m still here. No super serum. No blonde hair or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better.”

Holding onto Bucky a little tighter, the tears that I shed had morphed to those of joy. There my brother stood, in front of the government and the entire country saying what we all needed to hear. He spoke without reserve, unapologetic in his stance, and I had never been prouder of him.

“We can’t demand that people step up if we don’t meet them halfway,” Sam’s voice rose with passion, “Look, you control the banks. Shit, You can move borders. You can knock down a forest with an email. You can feed a million people with a phone call. But the question is, who’s in the room with you when you’re making those decisions? Hmm? Is it the people you’re gonna impact? Or is it just more people like you?” he paused, collecting himself before gesturing to where Karli’s body lay in the ambulance, “I mean, this girl died trying to stop you. And no one has stopped for one second to ask why. You’ve got to do better, Senator, you’ve got to step up because if you don’t, the next Karli will. And you don’t want to see 2.0. People believed in her cause so much that they helped her defy the strongest governments in the world. Why do you think that is? Look, you people have just as much power as an insane god,” Sam’s voice broke for only a second, “Or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is how are you going to use it?”

With that, he walked away from the crowd that had been watching him so intently and made his way towards us. He stopped in front of Walker, the two of them sharing a look before nodding to one another, a non-verbal truce being declared. Walker also turned to me, in the end he had stepped up and done the right thing, but I knew that the two of us would never be on good terms. I’d never forget his tightening grip around my throat, nor would he forget that I wasn’t afraid of him and would tear him apart if he ever tried anything like he had in the warehouse again. But I had saved the guy’s life and because of that, his stare softened for only a second as he nodded his thanks to me. I watched as he disappeared into the crowd, off to whatever his next mission may be…

“Sorry, I was, uh, I was texting and so, all I heard was, um, “a black guy in stars and stripes,” Bucky broke the tension of the moment as Sam approached us.

The three of us shared a chuckle before Sam and I locked eyes, not having spoken a word yet about what had happened underground. I threw my arms around his neck as he wrapped his around my shoulders, sharing probably the best hug we’d ever had. Our shared goal of keeping one another alive had been achieved. “Love you,” I whispered in his ear. “Love you too,” he replied, a hint of emotion choking him up. He squeezed a little tighter before releasing me, the three of us walking off together.

“Nice job, Cap,” Bucky said, patting Sam’s back that displayed the shield before sliding his hand back around my waist. A few feet away, hidden behind one of the ambulances and leaned up against the car was a familiar blonde figure.

“Sharon?” Sam called.

“Blocking my light,” she retorted, holding a gauze pad to the gunshot wound on her abdomen. “We need to get you to a hospital,” I strode forward, examining her injury as best I could.

“She’s not gonna listen,” Bucky grumbled as he looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody was following us. Sharon panted as she shrugged, “Hey, it’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me all week.”

“Told you…” Bucky said at my side. “Yeah, I don’t care,” I shook my head, “We’re take care of this.” “Uh, Cap?” an interruption came, the senator that had been on the receiving end of most of Sam’s impassioned speech. “I think he’s talking to you,” Sharon said before turning to both Sam and I, “Look, I’m sorry for how things ended down there. For what it’s worth,” she looked Sam up and down and genuinely smiled, “Suit looks good on you.”

Sam chuckled, “Thanks.”

Bucky nodded along, humoring the conversation for as long as he could. “All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” he asked, placing a hand on Sharon’s back to urge her forward. Giving up, she allowed him to lead her away.

“I didn’t forget my promise,” Sam called to Sharon, referring to the pardon I hoped he could secure for her.

I turned to my brother, “Meet you back home?”

He gave a long sigh, his eyes flitting between Bucky’s departing figure and me, “Why don’t you stay here a couple days?” I knew what he was offering and how hard it was for him to say the words, he was trying to give me time with Bucky. I did my best to conceal my smile, “Are you sure?” “You risked your life all week, you almost died trying to protect us,” he stated with a scoff, “I think you deserve a little time off. Now go,” he looked back to Bucky and scrunched his face up a little, “Before I change my mind.” Unable to hide my grin any longer, I reached out and clasped hands with him, bringing each other in for another hug. “Go get ‘em, Cap.”

The two of us let each other go, off to tend to our business before eventually reuniting back in the house we’d grown up in. It was crazy to think that I owed almost every great thing in my life to the boy who’d sat next to the lonely girl in first grade. Now here we were, dressed in Vibranium off saving the world, or at least doing what we could to make it a better one.

——

“Superhero, nurse…you’re full of surprises, Y/l/n,” Sharon commented before sucking in a sharp breath as I placed another suture.

I laughed softly, concentrating on my work, “I took a first aid class a couple years ago. When you’re living with two boys, trust me, it comes in handy a little too often. But I’ve never had to remove a bullet.” We were seated on the floor of Bucky’s Brooklyn apartment with me tending to Sharon’s wound using his first aid kit. Bucky was waiting in his bedroom to give us privacy, Sharon had her shirt pulled up and her pants unbuttoned to give me full access to her stomach. I’d had to place sutures once when Sarah had accidentally sliced her finger open with a knife, pulling out a lodged bullet was entirely new to me.

“I saw you tonight, with the truck,” she said as she watched me work, “You did good.”

I supposed now that I had shown my powers to the world, I’d have to get used to people paying me compliments but for now, I still didn’t know how to take them. “So are you gonna stick with it? The hero thing?” Sharon asked.

I tied another suture, closing the sterilized hole in her abdomen. “I think so. Captain America needs a right hand man, why not have it be his sister?” Sharon hummed in agreement, a beat of silence passing. “You don’t think you’ll strike out on your own? You seem a little too independent to follow orders.” “Yeah, well,” I started working on the last stitch, “Sam and I work better together than I would with anyone else. Maybe one day I’ll do my own thing but for now, I’m fine where I’m at.” “Well, I guess you’re finally in a position to do all that good you said you wanted to,” she sighed, “Just don’t forget to keep your eyes open, opportunity’s everywhere.” “Alright, Miss Madripoor,” I chuckled, sterilizing the wound one more time with an alcohol wipe, “Your hustler side is showing.”

Sharon shrugged and gave a little smirk, “All I’m saying is there’s a lot of ways to effect change, but I’m sure you’ll find that out.” Storing her advice away in my head for a later time, I placed a gauze pad on her abdomen and secured it. “Alright, you should be good. Just promise me that you’ll actually get checked by an actual doctor or whatever you have in High Town?” “Sure thing, Doc,” she replied with a smile as she adjusted her clothes again and rose to her feet, “You’re good, Barnes!” Bucky stepped back out into the room, peering around the corner carefully before entering fully. Despite the fact that he was in his own apartment, he still hadn’t changed out of what he’d worn to the fight. “What happens now?” I asked, looking to Sharon, “Hotel? Hidden apartment in some dodgy part of the city?” Sharon chortled at my suggestions, “I’ve got a plane waiting to take me back to Madripoor. The longer I stay here, the more of a chance they’ll find me,” she gave a small smile, “It was good seeing you guys again.” “It won’t be the last,” I confirmed, placing a hand on her shoulder, “Sam’ll get that pardon, you’ll be back before you know it.” “That’d be nice,” she sighed longingly, clearly thinking about all the freedom that would come with coming back home. Coming back to the conversation, she patted my arm and regained her full voice, “But until then, keep them in check. God knows they need it.” “The hell does that mean?” Bucky grumbled from his position outside his bedroom, leaving Sharon and I to share a laugh before she walked to the front door. “I’ll do my best, and hey, thank you for what you did for me...” I called out just before she shot us one last knowing smile and left, the door shutting behind her. While I wanted to worry about her walking the streets of New York and possibly getting caught, I’d seen enough of her in action to know that she could handle whatever came her way.

Bucky slowly made his way to the door, locking it and turning around to face me. It was the first time of the night we’d been completely alone. Our eyes met, tired and traumatized but still alert and seeking one another out. Bucky crossed the room in a few long strides, taking his time in approaching me as if he was savoring the moment. I reached out once he was close enough and interlocked my hand with his, tugging him close to me. He dragged two featherlight fingers over the nasty bruise that Karli had given me, his brow furrowing as he examined the side of my face. I ran my thumb over the long red bruise across the side of his forehead, the pressure increasing when he leaned into my touch.

The night could have ended so differently. If Karli had pulled the trigger, if Bucky hadn’t fought on such high alert, we could have ended in tragedy. Such thoughts were better buried away and not thought of, but I couldn’t help it. Lucky, blessed, whatever word you wanted to use…we were it. With no battles on the horizon to fight, we could focus on figuring out just what spark there was between us.

No words needed to be spoken, not for now at least. Tonight, all I needed was to hold Bucky in my arms and remember that despite every odd and every trouble thrown our way, we were alive. And as he leaned down and pressed his lips to mine in a tender but still passionate kiss, I had never felt more alive.

----

A/N: Oh, but we’re not done yet...We still have some time off and a cookout to attend 😉 I really can’t thank you all enough for sticking with this series the past few weeks, it means the world to me that I’ve been able to bring a little joy to people’s days. Let me know what you thought and if you’d like to be tagged for the LAST CHAPTER.

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlyhufflepuff @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @zozebo @fandomxreaders @kittengirl998 @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @i-know-i-can @x-judyjude-x @thebi-valkyrieofvalhalla @buckverse @living-that-best-life @haphazardhufflepuff @citlalireedus @lindseyrae20 @missstef23 @qhbr2013 @sebby-stann @bluemoon-icecream @iixbella @lets-love-little-me @abitofeverythinggg @itsnottilly @sltwins @mads-weasley @hart-failure @natdrunk @nctma15 @obsessedwithjustaboutanything @patdsinner33

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

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Ashens (Part 19)

Summary: She falls in love with Bucky Barnes from the moment she sees him. Bucky, still in love with a woman from his past, hates Y/N and plans to make her life miserable. To both their dismay, they are assigned together to go undercover into The Capitol for six months. There, they develop a heartbreaking friend with benefits agreement. Dystopian.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 3,000

Chapter Warning: Smut.

Rating: M for Mature, E for explicit. Enemies to lovers trope, sharing a bed trope, friends with benefits trope, temporarily unrequited love, heavy and angry sex, heavy on the angst, and very strong language.

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You were woken up to the violent sound of vomiting.

Opening your eyes, you noticed the bedroom was still pitch black, so it must’ve been very late. Drowsily, you sat halfway up and looked over to see that Bucky wasn’t next to you.

You cringed as the soft glow from the A.I hit your irises.

The vomiting started again, followed by retching. Always being an emetophobic, you tried to ignore it, swallowing down thickly. You didn’t want it to affect you.

You stayed that way, sitting up and waiting for him to come back inside so you could ask him if he was okay.

After some time, You laid back down, and stared up at the ceiling. You grew concerned as long seconds turned to minutes.

He was taking too long for your liking.

Having made up your mind, you tossed the comforter aside and made your way to the end of the bed.

You hesitated for a moment before standing up. Your eyes quickly darted over to a pillow that was in the foyer, wondering how the hell it got there. Quietly, you made your way down the hallway until you saw the bathroom door ajar. The lights were on.

You stopped next to it before looking inside.

“Bucky?” You called out. Your voice was timid and soft.

No answer.

You began to hear crying.

Your heart tore in half at the sound. It was loud, but it was heavy. You could tell that he was trying to contain it as much as he could.

You grew even more concern, this time knocking softly on the door before pushing it open.

There he was, half hunched over the toilet, his other half falling towards the floor turned away from you. His metal hand gripped the side of the toilet while his right hand pulled at his hair.

You watched as he shook, sobs racking his body.

You didn’t want to seem annoying but you found yourself feeling scared.

“Bucky, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t say anything.

Blindly, he reached for the lid and closed the toilet. Then he crawled over to the wall directly in front of him, right next to the shower, and fell up against it.

He grabbed at his hair with both hands. You watched as his knuckles turned white.

He let out a groan as he started to shaking his head back and forth, sniffing hard. He ran his hands down his face before letting them fall at his sides.

The look on his face was heartbreaking.

He looked like he was suffering some kind of pain that you couldn’t physically see. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, tilting his head up towards the ceiling.

You know that it wasn’t something he ate. That’s not why he was sick. He was going through something emotionally. This was mental turmoil.

You didn’t realize how true your words rang about him needing to get help until now.

“Nightmare,” he says so quietly and out of breath that you wouldn’t have caught them if you weren’t staring at his lips, “nightmare.” He repeats again, almost defeated.

He looked disappointed in himself.

Bucky isn’t sure if he dozed off but when he opens his eyes again, you’re knelt down in front of him with a glass of water.

He looks at the glass and back up at you. You looks so scared.

He takes the glass and downs it in a few seconds, scorched.

He hands you back the glass.

“Thank you.” His voice is hoarse.

You put the glass on the floor and he watches your movements, still in a heavy daze.

When his eyes meet yours again he can see the worry in your eyes.

“You’re sweating so much.” You grab a towel from one of the cabinets and hand it to him. He takes it from you but just holds onto it, letting his eyes close again, “You don’t have to tell me what it was about, but I’m glad you’re awake. You’re here now.” You say.

He physically cringes at the end of your sentence and you notice.

You take the towel from him, seeing he wasn’t even using it, and your roll it up. You bring it gently to his forehead to wipe away his perspiration. He shivers at your touch. He watches you intently. You look so innocent and sweet on your knees like that, and the memory of how he’s treated you in bed eats away at him. Not only was it a distraction, but you weren’t a piece of meat. He doesn’t understand how you still care after all he’s done to you.

You continue to wipe down the sides of his face, and eventually, underneath his eyes where the tears have now dried.

You were beautiful.

“It was a memory.” He says as you finally pull away from him.

You do a double take. You didn’t expect him to tell you this.

“I was,” he looks away from you, “it was nineteen fourth five. I was in Germany.”

He looks at you hesitantly and you give him a short nod, raising the towel back to his forehead. “Hydra—Hydra had me go to a base, just outside of Buchenwald. эти проклятые ублюдки.” He mumbles is disgust, sniffing, “There was a concentration camp nearby,” you watched as his flesh hand shook violently at his side, “It wasn’t instructed for me to be there. But we took the drive by, and I —“ his voice broke and he closed his eyes again, “I remember the smell, the smell of death, and I remember the bodies. I

remember children watching, this one young boy, and I did nothing.”

He was surprised when you took his metal hand in his.

“Bucky…”

“I don’t understand how I couldn’t control myself, my body, how I could let it happen, how I couldn’t save him. It was like deep down somewhere I knew it was wrong what I saw but I couldn’t —”

“You need to stop blaming yourself for something that is not your fault.”

“I was a Nazi.” He spats like the words are venom.

“You were not a Nazi. They took advantage of you and you know that. Even if you did what you did, you weren’t aware of it. Those monsters did that. Not you.” Your grip on his hand was tight and he could feel it, “you were a young boy that they —“”

“I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve fought against them harder.”

“It was against your control.” He’s stunned at your conviction and he watches you curiously. You tilt your head at him, “But look at you now. Look where we are. You’re here to save the world. Everyone outside of The Capitol is counting on you, wether they know it or not. And that is something that it is you that is doing. This is who you are.”

Bucky closes his eyes together and another grimace fills his features. You feared he would start crying again.

“Have you—have you ever spoken to someone before?” You ask gently, “Bucky?” You repeat when he doesn’t answer.

“I did. I had a therapist, but it didn’t go well. I eventually just started to going to Sam,” you nod. You feel him grab your flesh hand, and he runs his thumb over the top of it. The act startles you, “but you don’t understand. I’m not just a veteran with PTSD. I’m different.”

His touch was hot against you.

“And I get that,” your voice shook slightly, “but you can’t stop trying.”

He tilts your head at you this time.

“Trying for what? I’ve tried what I can and I still feel empty. It’s not that I’m unhappy, I’m just, I don’t know.”

“You have suicidal thoughts.”

The silence that follows your comment is palpable.

“My time has come and gone,” his voice is filled with emotion and you feel your own eyes fill with tears, “I am glad I am doing this. I’m glad I’m here on this mission. But after this?” His eyes are filled with tears and you can tell he’s clawing at anything at this point, “give me something to live for.”

You slowly let go of his hand to wipe under your own eye. His words hurt you deeply. He was in so much pain you could feel it yourself.

Maybe you were an empath or maybe it just hit too close to home for you.

“I was bullied my entire life,” you started slowly, watching as his eyebrows came together, listening intently to you, “People made fun of me because I was always different. I didn’t hang with the cool crowd or the regular crowd. People always assumed things about me because of my parents. They always thought that just because mom and dad thought a certain way or had money, that I was taking advantage of them or I also thought like them. Nobody in my life ever took the time to get to know me just for me, and I was a girl that always cared about everyone, regardless of that.” His hand tightened around yours, “It didn’t matter when they dropped Mac and cheese down the front of my favorite sweater or when they would make me drop my books in the hallway and then laugh, because I knew they would grow up one day, and I knew the things that thought about me wasn’t true anyway,” Bucky’s heart began to fall as tears filled your eyes and your voice began to waver, “but I was still human.” Your voice broke. You cry quietly. You run the back of your hand under your nose, looking away from him, “so of course I still got sad. I got depressed. I used to eat lunch by myself in a dark classroom everyday. How could something like that not affect a person? At one point I also thought to myself, is this how I’ll be forever? Alone? Hated for no reason? Will no one care? Why am I here?”

The amount of guilt that consumed Bucky was intense.

A month ago he had selfishly vowed to not get to know you because he was afraid of getting too attached to his mission partner. Now he’s cursing himself for unbeknownst doing something that was your ultimate weakness and your greatest pain. Because of it, he had underestimated everything about you. You were already beautiful to him, but knowing your heart was just as pretty made him feel other things for you. Things he hadn’t felt in close to a century. It terrifies him.

The last time he felt this way about another woman, because of him, she was killed. He couldn’t handle that again, the risk or the pain.

“I’m sorry .”

“But I still stayed strong, because someone did end up giving me a chance.” His eyes meets yours, “Will.” You breathe his name, “And he got taken from me. You know what that taught me? That it might seem bad right now and like the future is impossible, but life is full of great surprises, too.”

Bucky watches as you grab the cup, getting off the floor. His heart is still swelling.

“About what I said yesterday,” you stop at the sound of his voice, “I was out of line to blame you for what happened between us. It was my idea, and I took it out on you because I was scared we ruined the mission. I wasn’t in the best mood. I take blame.”

You look down at the floor, somehow still feeling hollow inside.

“Thank you.”

“I—” he cuts himself short and clears his throat. You turn around to look at him. He wasn’t on the floor anymore. He was standing and he looked a bit shy, “Look, what I said before about us not doing anything ever again…” his voice runs off as he swallows down and looks down shamefully at your feet.

He felt disgusting. He felt insanely attracted to you and you didn’t even know it. It wasn’t that he wanted to keep using you, he wished he could give a part of his heart to you and if this was a different life, maybe you two could work out.

He feels disgusted with himself. You deserved so much better than him.

“You know what, it’s okay. Forget I was going to say anything.” He whispers, clearing his throat after. You watched as he walked over to the cabinet to grab a larger towel.

You don’t how what it was. Maybe you’re growing up. Maybe you’re changing, but you walk over to him and grab his arm.

He looks over at you surprised.

“It’d be different this time.” You say, eyes darting over his nose, lips, and neck, “before there was hostility and pent up energy. We’re friends now, right?” You searched his eyes.

He squints at you.

“I guess we are.”

You nod.

“Friends with benefits?”

“Friends who occasionally just have sex?” He asks.

“We’ll make rules. No physical gestures that can have a double meaning, no intense eye contact, just something to get our edge off.”

“No kissing, anywhere.” He says, “And only at night. During the day, we act like it doesn’t even happen. We can’t allow distractions.” “And when the mission is over—”

“We go our separate ways.” He finishes.

You continue to stare at each other for a few more seconds before you give him a nod. He watches you as you walk away.

He’d always watch you as you walked away.

+ + +

“This show is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen. You like this?” Bucky asked with a mouth half full of sushi, pointing his chopsticks at the screen, comically.

You smirked as you took a sip of your water.

“This show is a classic. You just don’t get it because you’re old.”

“I’m not that old.”

You snickered.

“You old old man.”

“Shut up.” He says, “it’s not even from this century, right? What year did you say this came out?”

“Nineteen ninety four.” You grumbled, looking for another California roll in your plastic tray, “It the epitome of nineties and early two thousands era. It takes everyone back to a good time, before everyone used to just text each other.” You shrug, “it makes me happy.” You look over at him to see his eyes glued to the screen and a smile playing on his lips despite his verbal hate towards the show, “you don’t even have one character you like?”

He shrugs.

“Chandelier is funny.”

“Chandelier?” You laugh out loud, placing your tray on the coffee table as you do so. Bucky watches you, captivated by your laughter, “you mean Chandler?”

“Sure.”

You continue to glare at him, giving him a small smirk.

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.”

“I won’t tell you.” He says shoving another sushi in his mouth.

You continued to stare at him, intrigued. Was this the real Bucky Barnes finally showing his true colors?

Ever since your talk in the bathroom last week, things between the both of you got better. Despite the blow out fight you had in the kitchen the other day, you really were friends. Friends in the most messed up sense of the word.

After your talk, you both had agreed to becoming friends with benefits, but you had yet to consummate the agreement.

The mission had kept you both very busy, between you trying to avoid Silas at work and keeping your eyes for any other possible intel, to Bucky staking out his nights at the tower trying to find new information on Ashen, including where he lived.

Tonight was the first real night where you both felt relaxed for the first time in a very long time. Maybe too relaxed.

You heard Bucky snicker as a scene unfolded on TV -and you tried to contain your smile.

He liked it. Bucky liked Friends.

You watched from the corner of your eye as he leaned forward and put his own tray on the table.

“Does this remind you of your childhood?” He asks you.

“Kind of. I was very little when it ended but I remember that time period, yes. The world was different.”

“Tell me about it?” He asks you.

You perk a brow at him.

“Sure, but only after Ross accidentally says Rachel at the alter.”

“What?”

+ + +

“Could you stay on your side and with your fair share? You keep hogging up the blankets and the bed, Y/N.”

“I’m trying to make a cocoon because last time you snatched all the blankets in the middle of the night while I was asleep and I had to sleep shivering in fetal position.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not.”

You both calmed down until you started moving your legs around, trying to find a comfortable position.

You stopped, and then started again, tossing and turning.

“Oh my god, if you don’t stop I’ll cut off your legs.”

“Do it I dare you.”

“God.”

“It’s not my fault it’s somehow freezing and super hot at the same time.”

Thankful, he thought you had finally found a comfortable spot because you stopped. He was wrong because you started moving.

Fed up with you, he quickly turned around and grabbed your leg.

“Stop.” You stretched down to push his hand off of you when he grabbed your hand and quickly held it up against the pillow next to your head. He did the same with your other and caged you under him with his legs.

You were breathless as you stared up at him. Finding the proximity intoxicating.

He was panting against you as he stared down at your face.

He watched enthralled as you whispered the undeniable words:

“Fuck me.”

+ + +

His boxers had been flung somewhere across the room and he had your legs right around his waist.

He followed your rules. No excessive gestures and no eye contact.

He hated it. He absolutely hated not being able to cup your face as he stared down at your nose, his cock thrusting into your at a languid pace. Slow and torturous.

Instead, his hand grabbed at the pillow beneath your head.

Bucky moaned as he felt you squeeze around him.

“God, you know just how to do it to me.” He mumbles, licking his lips.

“Faster.” You whine, tightening your legs around him.

His thrusts pick up speed as he continues to fuck you for several minutes. Eventually he switches to hold onto the head board.

His right hand leaves it to hold onto your waist and his eyes goes to where his dick is fucking you.

You were so perfect for him. If this were another lifetime, he knows he could be good for you. He knows this could’ve have had a different ending. You were so good.

When his orgasm hits him, he flicks your clit with his thumb and he unravels with you. You both cum together.

When he goes to bed later than night after slipping out of you and throwing away the condom, you don’t feel used like you used to. At least you don’t think you do.

But you still wished you didn’t love him anymore. You wished he felt the same, and you wished you had the strength to stop torturing yourself.

As you looked out into the city with your bare back facing his front, you reminded yourself that Bucky Barnes would never love you.

This would always be just sex. And when it came to your friendship, it had no future. You were to both go separate ways at the end of this mission.

@snakeeatery17 @utterlyhopeful-fics , @marvelfan1017, @iheartsebastianstan , @annathesillyfriend , @redhairedfeistynerd, @perksofbeingabookworm, @amyrose051, @meegggoooo, @morganclaire4 , @captainchrisstan, @bxndys , @shoesonpointe , @writerwrites, @rainbowkisses31, @lindatreb , @littlemissner98 , @dezzylou24, @ayeitslelee , @hardygal69 , @emmabarnes , @redbarn1995@thequeenreaders@ilovemysupersoldiers@maximumplaidzonknerd@ceapa-mica @s-trawberryv-eins@buckysknifecollections@sobangie@lindatreb@theseuscmander @nervous-plant @wildmoonflower @aya-fay@appreciating-fanfics @kaitlynisinfinite@justreadingfics@kaitieskidmore1 @mrsdancing

#Bucky x Reader #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes smut #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #ashens #winter soldier fanfic #the falcon and the winter soldier fanfic #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x y/n

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fnf-amateur-writing · 3 years

Note

Hello! Can I request a scenario where l Updike with an s/o who got kidnapped and now he has to go save them- if u feel uncomfortable with that you can just do general relationship headcanons for him!

Hey there, Anon. I'm cool with your prompt, no worries!

TW: Kidnapping and violence.

Updike finding out S/O was kidnapped

Everything was rather dull at work. Sure, dealing with anomalies can be cool, but it wears on Updike after a while. Everyday was starting to become nothing more than paperwork, keeping tabs on the freely roaming safer anomalies, and trying and failing to kill Whitmore. Fortunately, his lunch break finally started after a long and boring morning.

Once he readjusted his tie and tucked away his trusty gun in his pocket, he went on a near daily walk to a local cafe. To be honest, it wasn't all that boring, since he now got to be with you during his lunch breaks. About a month ago, you two found out that you took your breaks at the same time. The cafe was also conveniently in between your workplaces, allowing you to walk an equal distance.

Without any incidents or that pestering metal head, Updike made his last turn, with the cafe now being just two buildings down. Strangely, the police were also two buildings down, talking to an employee that Updike recognised in front of the prematurely closed cafe. Avoiding involvement, Updike quickly turned around, waiting until he out of sight of them before checking his phone. You were always there first, so you probably texted him a heads up, but his phone showed no new messages.

It was pretty annoying, but no big deal. He'll just go somewhere else, and maybe you'll be there too if he's lucky.

~~~

The phone next to him rings, whilst Updike sat alone in his office, showing the front desk receptionist's name. That was rather unusual; that number almost never calls him directly, so it was probably important enough to be an exception. "Updike speaking," he spoke in his monotone voice, which was in a tone that easily showed how he says that a dozen times a day.

"Mr. Updike, the police are requesting your presence outside."

Okay, now that was very unusual. Not that the police are here, they show up all the time whenever a case involves an anomaly. But for them to make him go outside, when they usually go up to see him or a collegue, was odd. And he had a clean record too, so it's not like they were going to arrest him.

"I'll be right there," he said. He felt somewhat stressed from the sudden request, so he went a faster pace to the lift--to which he almost pressed the wrong button. He and a cop quickly made eye contact the moment the lift opened, and he followed the man as he beckoned him outside.

"Now, I know you're busy, so I'll get right to the point," the officer says, pulling a phone from his pocket. "Do you recognise this phone and the owner of it?" Updike wish he could say no, but he couldn't; it was clearly your phone, except it now has a large crack on the screen. "Yes, it belongs to my partner. Their name is (Y/N) (L/N)." As clear as he made those sentences, his throat was sore from the dread.

"Sir, are you aware that they've been kidnapped."

... No.

~~~

Looking back at it, he wasn't sure how he kept calm the whole time as the police explained what had happened. Some man had taken you right in front of the cafe. It happened so quickly, that the witnesses didn't seem to notice anything wrong until it was too late. They contacted him when told by employees that he always sat at the same table as you.

As he rushed home, he didn't quite know what he felt. It was a mixture of sadness, anger, stress, and whatever the hell else that couldn't be named that made his hair grey. But he wasn't going home just to wait in misery until the police did something; he was going to look for some clues, as recommended by the authorities. He wasn't aware of any troubles you may have wih your family and friends, but he was informed that most kidnappings are done by people the victim knows, so he had to snoop around your stuff to see if he could find anything to report.

However, he almost slammed himself into his own front door when something else caught his attention: a plain white envelope taped to the door. There was no markings or writing on the outside, Updike noted as he took it for inspection, but he could tell it had a letter in it. Surely, it couldn't be a coincidence this showed up the same day you were taken.

As he went inside, closing the door behind him, he didn't take another step away from the door before tearing the letter open. Within the envelope was a typed letter, which had a clear message despite never mentioning you or Updike by name. Also made clear was that this was nobody you knew, nor was it an anomaly trying to spite him, but rather a particularly greedy criminal who took notice of who you were with.

The letter demanded an absurd amount of cash to be hand delivered, an amount that clearly overestimated even his own wealth. And if he brought anyone with him or brought a weapon, then you would be shot on the spot. Finally, he had until midnight to do so, too, adding onto the stress.

The stress started to become a bit much as his hair grew darker. He had no way of knowing whether the bastard was bluffing, but it wasn't worth trying to find out. But still, there didn't seem to be a good way out anyways. It felt like he was about to snap, feeling some sparks from his head and... a spark of an idea.

He went up a flight of stairs to a closet within the hallway. There wasn't anything remarkable about it's contents, but he took interest on one side, where some suitcases of his were stored. Only one of these was useful right now: a sleek metal suitcase he can't remember even using, but he remembered it being there. After grabbing the case, he ran back downstairs while neglecting to close the closet door.

Now, he wasn't going to place any money in it. No, nothing would be in it. But he had an idea, because maybe the guy didn't quite know who they decided to mess with.

~~~

Updike parked his car on the side of the road, getting out in the abandoned yet familiar area. It was a small part of the outskirts of the city that eventually lost it's population and was left to rot, which amazed him that it hasn't been torn down yet. The only people who regularly come here are the homeless and obnoxious teenagers with cameras who pretend that one of the buildings are haunted for internet clout. However, he does remember coming here too a long time ago to hunt down Whitmore a couple times.

The meeting place was a short walk away, having used to be a local library. The evening sky was getting darker by the minute, and the sun was near set behind Updike as he looked into the old library. As dark as it was, a light was barely visible from the entrance, partially blocked by empty bookshelves. With the case in hand, he walked through the shattered glass double doors and in between two of the shelves.

"I'm here."

The light across the library shifted and footsteps approached. The man looked as dodgy as he expected, except with a bit of a 1950's greaser look to him, and the gun the man held never pointed to anything but Updike. He placed the lantern onto the shelve and approached, saying "hand it over." Definitely not a negotiating type.

Time passed too slow, yet also too fast. Though he normally used his head, Updike had to channel what was within him elsewhere or else the man would shoot him seeing the thunder from his head. Hard, sure, but dong it for you was a pretty good motivator.

In three, two...

As soon as both hands were on the case's handle, Updike managed to give a hard zap through his hand. The case's material made it guaranteed it would shock him, and shock him very badly. He shouted at the sensation comparable to that of a taser, unable to pull the trigger before collapsing. Updike wasn't sure if he was conscious, but it didn't matter since he was already slamming the case into his face. Giving a man a free nose bleed such as this one was usually seen as too barbaric for Updike's taste, but damn it was satisfying.

He took the man's gun and briefly searched his pockets for anything else he might use as a weapon. He pocketed the lighter for the box of cigarettes he carried, since he might wake up and pull a fast one by burning the place down. And then there was a key, and not a usual key one would think of. In fact, Updike knew from the shape that it was meant to unlock a pair of handcuffs. It may be best if he took that as well.

"(Y/N)!" he called out, "are you there?" He made his way to the back, peeking into some rooms as he passed. He heard some sounds coming from nearby, causing him to peek through the old bathroom door. There you were, gagged with a cloth and both hands cuffed to a pipe beneath a sink. You were trying to say something, so he quickly worked the cloth off your mouth and let it fall under your chin. Upon closer inspection he now saw how disheveled you looked and that one of your eyes was black and swollen.

"G-GABRIEL!" you finally managed to scream before coughing from finally having your mouth to breathe through. "I thought you- I thought..." He hushed you before using the key he found on your cuffs, allowing you give him a much needed embrace. "Shhh, it's okay," he said as you cried, "I've dealt with him."

"Now," he picks you off the ground and carries you away from the dreaded building, "let's go. I have an interesting story for the cops."

Now for a surprise bonus ;)

Aftermath headcanons:

Unsurprisingly, you both took off work for a while.

Regardless of how well you can handle trauma, Updike WILL take you to a therapist. He's already got one booked, so you don't have a choice really.

For the first time in the relationship, Updike has been the one to initiate cuddles. He's also just as paranoid as you are, and has become somewhat clingy as a result.

When it was nearing the day you two would return to work, you discussed plans on preventing another incident. Though it may seem a bit far, you agreed on wearing a small tracking device clipped to your clothes until the fear wore off.

The forced therapy sessions did come with benefits for the future. When you eventually had to testify against your kidnapper in court, you felt more confident in your words and managed to tell them everything without a breakdown.

The man didn't stand a chance and earned himself several years in prison.

Finally, once you felt everything was behind you, you walked together to the cafe again. It was a nice cafe and it would be a shame if they stopped visiting.

Some of the regulars and employees recognised you two, and welcomed you back. And as you two sat in your usual spots with drinks on the house, you could finally say it was a pretty nice day with nothing to worry about.

#fnf x reader #fnf imagines #updike x reader #gabriel updike #fnf updike

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

pause, m | myg | 3

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; gender stereotyping; mentions of therapy; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

You were the only one exiting at the last stop. Running. Running.

Morning. Night.

You hated this replay. This song sucked. This cassette tape sucked. But you kept going, ending all your bad days with dancing, dancing until you wore your own heart out, dancing to sad songs with happy beats, attending your dance party of one. Never had you wished your dance party to be of two.

Never, until now.

Morning. Night.

You were wandering around your neighborhood on your off day, idle and antsy. There was a garage sale happening. You walked over, seeing all the old things. Weird lampshades with no bottom half. Chipped coin banks. A pair of ping-pong paddles with no ping pong ball. Single teacups without the rest of the set. Old VHS tapes that no one had a player for.

Cassettes.

A bunch of cassette tapes, sitting there, spilled out. You tilted your head, picking one out. Love Songs for my Love. It was written in faded pen, a barely legible scribble. You flipped it over, but there was no indication of said songs. Just a Side A and Side B. Did someone make this? Did they use a tape player and record this by playing the songs on scratchy audio?

You suddenly remembered Yoongi’s girlfriend throwing a cassette tape on the subway concrete as she declared she hated him. The thin plastic has shattered, black ribbon flying everywhere.

Did Yoongi make her one?

And she smashed it, just like that?

“Do you want that?”

You started as an old woman indicated the tape in your hand. She was wearing a blue and white floral dress, a bright pink fanny pack at her waist. Her hand held a wad of change bills.

“Uh…” you said, not knowing if you did or not.

“I have a cassette player too.” The old woman tucked a gray hair behind her ear and rummaged around her, producing a silver and brown cassette player. It was huge, nearly the size of your forearm. “Still works. Needs batteries though.” She stated the price.

You walked out of the garage sale with the cassette and the player, wallet lighter.

You went home and played the tape after shoving some batteries into the player. It was full of old, cheesy eighties songs. You didn’t know any of these songs. They were all weird. Some were poorly recorded, cutting off strangely. The speaker was terrible, scratchy and pitching the audio due to its age, not that the audio was very good to begin with.

But you danced to it.

You danced to it.

Danced to these terrible love songs of a different time, of a different couple, not knowing if they were still together or not, not knowing if they were still in love, not knowing if they were even in Korea, but dancing to these retro beats anyway, not caring. Because someone, at one point, tried clumsily to make this for the one that loved, only for it to be sold like cheap candy decades later and you might as well enjoy it, because, hell.

What else was there to enjoy?

Morning.

Night.

You stopped at your doorstep.

Someone was sitting there, wearing a black parka and black sneakers. Black face mask. He raised his head as you stopped. Dark eyes, void of any sparkle. He stood up.

You swallowed. Bowed your head politely.

Opened your door for Min Yoongi.

You hadn’t changed the couch all this time. Left everything there, waiting.

Blankets. Pillow. The suitcase of his clothes.

Everything.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

You went to your room, wordlessly.

In the morning, the blankets were folded neatly and the pillow set on top, as if he was never there.

Pause.

Fast forward.

He would be there one night and then not there several nights. He would stay several nights in a row, but not be there in the morning. Never saying anything. You didn’t say anything. You just went to your bedroom and danced to sad songs with happy beats, door closed, the pressure in your chest unbearable.

Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay.

You wanted to fast forward. You wanted to pause. You wanted to rewind.

But you had to press play.

You had to live the moments.

You had to run as you exited to night train, run and run and run, sometimes finding Yoongi sitting at your doorstep, sometimes finding nothing but air. And it didn’t matter. They were all bad days, ending with you dancing to gloomy songs with upbeat tunes, dancing and dancing until you passed out.

You were stuck.

Stuck in this odd loop of reality.

Trapped in sad lyrics with a happy melody.

You talked to your former therapist about it.

Explained the situation, trying to remember all the details. He was retired already, but as usual he listened patiently and with kindness. He didn't have to. When your therapist retired, he let you know that he meant it when he told you that you could call him any time and he would set aside some of his day to talk with you. You were grateful and never tried to abuse it. Sometimes you would just call and say hello, ask him about his health. Send him cards every once in a while, wishing him well. He had been a great therapist and now he was a good friend.

Those were really, really hard to come by.

You saw Yoongi once again, sitting in front of your apartment doorstep. Bit your lip seeing his crumpled form wrapped in his black parka. You walked up to him and smiled, but Yoongi didn't look at you. He only stood up and moved out of the way for you to unlock your door.

Your former therapist's words echoed in your head.

You need to consider the effect of your kindness, not only on him, but on you.

You held up your keys and found your hand shaking, missing the keyhole.

It is up to you how much you want to say. But remember to communicate with empathy. He is a victim and he may not respond rationally because his thought processes have been manipulated and warped.

"I'm sorry."

Yoongi's whisper was very soft, almost inaudible. You wanted to scream, cry, laugh it off, hug him, all at once. Instead, you took a deep breath and put your key in your front door. Turned around and beckoned him warmly into your home.

"Come in."

Everyone's reality is different. Even if you're sharing moments together, one person might have a completely different way of interpreting and processing events.

Yoongi stepped into your apartment once more, carefully taking off his shoes. Trying to keep his eyes on the floor. You didn't see any visible bruises on his face, but you could see the bruises to his soul as he timidly walked to the couch.

In life, you get to choose only how you feel about things. You only get to choose your own reaction.

You closed the front door, locked it.

You can't choose for other people.

You turned around to see Yoongi looking at the pillow, blankets, the little bag of toiletries. The suitcase of his clothes, washed and folded. You kept them on the couch, all this time.

"Yoongi."

He didn't turn his head, but you saw him move his chin slightly to indicate he was listening.

"This time... this time, before you leave in the morning," you said quietly, gently. "I hope you reconsider. Even if it's only for a second."

Yoongi didn't respond.

The next morning, you didn't know what you would find. The same folded blankets with the pillow on top? The same empty couch?

You went out to the living room.

Folded blankets. Pillow on top. No Yoongi on the couch. Your heart sank. Okay. It was worth a shot.

"I told myself this would be the last time."

A familiar raspy, soft voice. You jerked your head to the door. Yoongi was standing there, fully dressed, face mask on, sneakers on his feet. He wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the couch.

"I told myself I wouldn't take advantage of your kindness anymore."

It's okay, you wanted to blurt, but you hesitated, because was it? Was it okay to watch this all the time, to witness this toxic relationship, and not be able to help because you can't help unless they want to be helped?

"I'm weak."

Yoongi raised his head. He made eye contact with you. And it hurt so much, seeing those eyes and knowing you could do nothing, knowing he was just going to go back because that's all he knew.

You smiled even though it hurt so, so much to smile.

"You might think you're weak," you said softly. "But you always have a choice, Yoongi. Even if it's a small step. Even if it's something dumb, like taking off your shoes."

You couldn't tell his expression, most of it hidden behind the face mask. You thought of that time, in the convivence superstore, where his fingers had accidentally gotten caught in your sweater and unfurled the yarn, tangling you two together with red string, an awkward, embarrassing moment. Your lips curved a little wider, remembering that time. If anything, at least there was that one precious memory.

Yoongi looked down.

He placed his hand on the doorknob.

You closed your eyes, not wanting to watch him go.

You heard shuffling. Then a presence close to you. Your eyes snapped open. Yoongi's shoes were by the door. You looked up, right in front of you. Yoongi gazed back at you with uncertainty. Then he pulled down the face mask and stepped closer to you. Voice trembling, still so soft.

"What... what should I do now?"

You couldn't help it.

You began to cry.

It all came out, the tears spilling like a broken dam. Yoongi's eyes widened, startled at your sudden reaction. You wrapped your arms around yourself and buried your face in your chest, sobbing ugly tears. You turned away quickly, wiping them away and attempting to talk, but it was impossible. They kept coming.

Was it happiness? Relief? Stress? Anxiety? The crying racked your entire body. All those weeks, all those days, all those moments. You were just a person. You wanted to say, don't do this to me anymore, but that wasn't a fair thing to say, so you never said it, but, please, please Yoongi, don't do this to me anymore.

Arms appeared around you, black parka covered arms, and they encircled you, first a tentative hold, then tighter and firmer, steadying your sobs, turning them into sniffles. You realized your sweatshirt sleeves were wet and gross now, covered in snot and tears.

"Thank you."

The whisper behind your head, making you freeze.

"Thank you so, so much."

You didn't want to start crying again.

You started crying again.

Pause.

Fast forward.

Yoongi looked back at you, face full of uncertainty. Black face mask on his chin, squishing his cheeks together. You smiled at him from the waiting room, waving. The doctor’s name was printed clearly on the door. The name of the therapist you had helped Yoongi find. They specialized in domestic violence victims.

“I… I can’t do it.”

He said it softly, but the waiting room was dead silent.

You smiled at him.

“You only have to take one step,” you replied gently. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Yoongi looked forward again. He took one step. Then another. Then more, walking into the door and closing it behind him.

Pause. Rewind.

You remembered your similar moment. You were by myself at that time, years ago, confused and alone, about to walk into an old man’s office who you thought could do absolutely nothing, but you didn’t know what else to do. You knew there was something wrong with you and you didn’t know what and you knew you needed help. But there was no one to tell you to take a step forward. You were frightened, scared of being alone. Equally scared of being with someone else, which was why you were so boring in every relationship, never putting in any effort, because you were afraid.

The therapist had noticed your hesitance. He stood up and said your name kindly. You snapped to attention, nodding slowly. The old man had smiled, hands crossed in front of his waist.

“You only have to take one step,” he had said. “Just one.”

You looked at the ground.

Took one step.

That seemed too small. Maybe one more.

One more.

One.

More.

You were now in the office, standing in front of the sofa.

The old man had beamed at you proudly.

“You did it.”

Pause. Fast forward.

“You did it.”

Yoongi stepped out of the office. His eyes found yours. “I did.”

You smiled proudly.

“Wanna go buy some bread?” you asked, pointing in the direction of the market plaza next to the clinic. “There’s a bakery nearby. It would be nice to have bread for breakfast, don’t you think?”

Yoongi gave you his little half-smirk. “Yeah, it would.”

Reset.

Pause.

Play.

“Why do you have that?”

You looked up from your bed to your desk. Yoongi was pointing to the cassette tape player. His face was white, almost tense. His other hand was holding yours. He held it tighter, biting his lip.

“I bought it at a garage sale,” you answered truthfully. Yoongi lowered his hand, not quite looking at you. You continued. “I was walking around the neighborhood and someone was selling their old stuff and I saw some cassettes, so I bought one. The lady upsold me the player too. It was after the first time you…”

You left me.

You felt a painful pluck of your heartstrings, like a guitar strand pulled too tight and producing the wrong sound. Yoongi turned to face you, but you shifted your eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s not his fault. But it had hurt. You couldn’t pretend it didn’t.

You laughed apprehensively. “It was full of eighties love songs anyway. The audio is scratchy and old. The couple probably aren’t even together anymore.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.”

“The eighties were forty years ago, Yoongi.”

Silence. Yoongi was still holding your hand.

“How many times do you think it’s been replayed?” Yoongi murmured.

Your eyes shifted back to the silver and brown tape player. “I don’t know. But I kept playing it.” Your voice was a little choked up now. “I kept playing it until you… until you came back.” And sometimes I think… sometimes I think there might be a chance you’ll leave again. And maybe that was impossible, but you knew better, because impossible things happen all the time and it would be easy to think a person could fully heal, but things like that don’t heal so easily.

You know, because you witnessed it firsthand.

“They’re all terrible,” you said quietly.

Yoongi squeezed your hand. “But you kept replaying them.”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. And then another. You waited. He seemed like he wanted to say something. You rubbed his thumb gently with yours. He kept staring at the cassette player.

“That… was the first gift I gave her.” His dark brown eyes were misty, gazing into the past. “Our hundred-day anniversary. I gave her a cassette of my favorite songs. I thought it was more original than a mix CD or a link to a Spotify playlist.” He looked down, not quite at the floor. “She was so excited and happy. She told me she was going to play it as soon as she got home.”

Silence.

When Yoongi spoke again, there was a quiver of hopelessness.

“I never saw a tape player at her place.”

You saw the pain in his eyes.

“Did she play it even once?”

He shut his eyes, hiding them with his hair. His voice was getting smaller and smaller, almost disappearing.

“And then she smashed it.”

He was clutching your hand so tightly that your fingers felt numb, but you didn’t move away, listening carefully.

“She smashed it so that not even people like you could pick it up years later and listen to it. Smashed it so that not even one person in the whole world could appreciate it.”

“The Yoongi at the time appreciated it,” you said softly.

Yoongi hid his face with his hair.

“The Yoongi back then was a fucking fool,” he sighed.

“It’s not so easy to have a pure feeling.” You placed your other hand on top of his. “Not everyone can feel that way. It’s not fair when someone takes advantage of that.”

He hung his head. “I could have gotten out. I could have been a man and left. But I kept going back. I enabled her. I was just as bad.”

You sighed softly. “You know things like that are easy to say and impossible to do in the moment.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

Yoongi lifted his head, looking at you through his bangs. Not wanting to fully show you the pain in those dark brown orbs.

“For going back?”

You shook your head. “No.” Your lips curved into a sad smile. “I watched my dad crawl back over and over. I watched it happen right in front of my eyes.” You exhaled the tenseness from your chest. “He kept thinking that because they had kids he had to come back.” The next breath was rougher, pushing out all your anger. “I think it would have easier if she was my stepmother. But she wasn’t.”

And the fear stabbed through you.

“I keep thinking, what if I’m like her? What if I’m just like her and I don’t know?”

You shut your eyes.

“All of my previous relationships ended because I didn’t invest into them.”

You suddenly let go of Yoongi’s hand, pulling away, but Yoongi held on, held on desperately, interlocking his fingers with yours. You dropped your hand, all strength gone, measuring your breathing, trying to calm yourself down.

“What if…?”

Silence.

“We’ll never know unless we try.”

Pause.

“I can’t ask you to try after what you’ve been through, Yoongi.”

“You don’t have to ask me.”

You opened your eyes and slowly, slowly raised your head. Your eyes connected with his.

“You know you won’t be that way,” Yoongi murmured quietly. “Because you know and can recognize it. You recognized it when… when I saw nothing.”

You held his hand.

Fell back on the bed and the two of you stared at the ceiling, holding hands.

You laughed as you exited the train car with Yoongi. At the last stop, stepping out to the harsh streetlights and concrete.

“What do you mean, is that where I got my dance skills? It’s just a music video! They’re supposed to be weird!” you were saying, shouldering your backpack.

“That was bizarre and that’s putting it lightly,” Yoongi chuckled.

He didn’t look at the edge of the train station anymore. He was only looking at you, with his dark brown, cat-like eyes full of sparkle, smirking at you fully now. There was still space between you two at this particular place, this last train stop, but somehow it had gotten smaller. Shrunk. Not because he was shrinking either. He was a smoothed-out piece of paper now, still winkled; the old marks erased but still etched on the page. Not forgotten, but finally able to be written over.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

Both of you froze.

Yoongi frowned and looked up. The pressure on your chest returned.

The woman. Yoongi’s girlfriend.

No.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I told you it was over. It’s still over.”

Ex-girlfriend.

She furrowed her brows, bristling. “You can’t do this to me, Yoongi! I’m the only one who loves you! Me! Or did you forget, you stupid bastard?”

Yoongi paused. He took a deep breath and stared up at the streetlights, up to the sky. For a second, you despaired, thinking he was going to consider it, thinking he was going to walk away from you. Then he let out a puff of air and ticked his head.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” he said evenly, not looking at his ex-girlfriend.

Yoongi turned away.

He caught your eye. He wasn’t smiling, but you could tell there was something different this time. Resolve. He nudged your arm with his.

“Wanna race?”

The pressure on your chest lifted suddenly, leaving you breathless.

“What?” you gasped.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re gonna lose.”

And then he tore off. You started, running after him, the young woman shouting after you two, but neither of you heard, neither of you listening, because you were running, running, chasing after that black parka with indignation, calling his name and him mockingly bellowing yours back, causing you to run faster, faster, smile on your face, tackling him into your front door laughing. Yoongi snickered, stating he won and you chastised him, telling him he cheated as you unlocked the door.

“Your fault for getting distracted.”

“I wasn’t ready!” you flailed, dumping your backpack onto the ground. You took out your phone and accidentally pressed the play button on your music. Your Bluetooth house speakers started blasting quirky guitar, snazzy drums, and twanging bass, ridiculous lyrics singing along. In frustration, you tossed your phone on the couch and began to wiggle your arms, pointing accusingly at Yoongi, as if to say, this isn’t over, but kicking off your shoes and prancing about your apartment, bouncing your shoulders to the beat.

Yoongi shook his head, but you didn’t care, singing on the top of your lungs.

“Don’t know a night without dancing, don’t like the night without dancing…”

“Is that dancing?” Yoongi interrupted, but you just wiggled up and down like a fish out of water, and Yoongi shook his head once more, looking exasperated. You spun, you frolicked, you whipped your hair around until you were lightheaded, not caring about anything, not caring about what Min Yoongi was seeing, because this was your time, your time to shine, your nighttime dance party.

You tripped on the couch and Yoongi darted forward to snatch you from the air. You laughed at your own clumsiness, dizzy from spinning so much, not realizing how close you were to Min Yoongi, not realizing until the song ended and you were staring up at him and he was staring down at you, still in his black parka and face mask squishing his cheeks.

The next song began.

But for some reason you couldn’t brush it off. You couldn’t get up and begin dancing again. You were only looking up into Yoongi’s eyes and he was looking down at you. You were reminded of his face that day in the grocery store, when the red yarn from your sweater unraveled due to the Velcro on his sleeve, reminded of that split second where you were happy and sad at the same time, happy and sad at the idea of red yarn attaching you and Yoongi together.

Happy because it was funny.

Sad because you knew you had to pull away.

Yoongi’s dark eyes looked down at you and he leaned down a little. Stopped.

You raised yourself a little. Stopped.

Pause.

Heart beating fast, so fast. Was it from running? From dancing like an idiot? From staring into Yoongi’s eyes? From being so close to him? From knowing you shouldn’t kiss him, because maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but really, really wanting to?

Yoongi leaned down the same time you rose upward.

Your foreheads knocked together.

“Ow!”

“Motherfuc–”

You swore and he jerked up, rubbing his forehead as you winced, massaging yours. It was a hard hit and you felt woozy from all the emotions and the physical exertion. You grabbed his arm for balance as you stood, and he grabbed yours, grimacing as he rubbed his head.

“Damn, that fucking hurt,” he mumbled.

“Ugh, am I bruised?” you asked, removing your hand.

He squinted. “No?” He leaned forward a little.

You leaned forward too. Stopping just a centimeter away. Yoongi’s eyes widened. You looked into his wide eyes with your wide eyes, waiting. You shouldn’t kiss him, because you didn’t know if he was okay with it, you didn’t know if he was even thinking about it. It was way too early, it was too soon, and you should just back off–

He pressed his lips to yours.

You both stared at each other with unblinking, huge eyes, lips on lips.

You jerked back, sputtering. “Y-You’re making this weird!”

Yoongi pointed to you and all around him. “And this bizarre indie rock isn’t making this weird?”

“D-Don’t blame the music,” you stuttered, fingers on your lips. “You shouldn’t stare like that!”

“You were s-staring back!” he accused.

“F-Fine!”

And then you grabbed his face and kissed him, deeply, fully. You kissed Min Yoongi, kissed his soft lips with your eyes squeezed shut, breathing in his scent and his presence, a presence you never wanted to go away. You didn’t know if it was right or wrong. You didn’t know if this was the start of a wonderful story or the end of a rollercoaster one, but it was yours, your cassette tape with your love songs, and you wanted Yoongi on the playlist, you wanted his song to play on repeat, and he grabbed your arms and pulled you close, kissing you back, murmuring your name, wrapping his arms around you, and you knew you had his song, his song on your cassette to dance to.

Don’t let this beginning end.

4. smut.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #bts series #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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darkurgediary · 3 years

Text

Two Worlds, Two Hearts: Chapter Five

Summary: News of Jareth's disappearance affects Sarah in ways she didn't expect, and brings on a new wave of conflicting emotion.

Warning(s): complicated relationships, creepy nightmare (which is all italicized so it'll be easy for anyone to skip over), and Ludo tears! If I missed anything please let me know!

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

The Labyrinth was crumbling.

Jareth was missing.

And now Ludo was crying with such an intensity the ground started to shake.

Hoggle didn’t know how much more of this he could take. The dwarf wove his way through withered hedges till he came upon Ludo, the great beast brought to his knees, thick tears streamed down his face, and a pitiful cry lurched from his throat. Sir Didymus stood before him with tiny paws rested on Ludo’s forearm. Uncharacteristically quiet in the face of his brother’s pain.

“Sarwah,” Ludo’s lower lip wobbled and he tried desperately to pull a string of snot back up his nose, when such an attempt failed, he instead wiped his face on his left forearm.

Hoggle grumbled to himself but still decided to ask, “whats tha matter with'em?”

Sir Didymus perked his ears, looking to Hoggle with a defeated express, “Sir Ludo claims to have seen young maiden over that way.”

The dwarf glanced in the indicated direction, just as he'd thought, no one was there. Hoggle even approached the area and walked around it. Like he was trying to prove to Ludo that his eyes had played a cruel trick on him. Hoggle understood it though, to a degree. Ludo claiming to see Sarah became a common occurrence over the years. Each time, it was harder and harder to explain to Ludo it wasn't real.

“If she ain't been back already then she ain't never comin' b-”

A whisper carried in the breeze and cut him off, “Ludo...”

Curved horns raised from the ground as brown eyes widened, and basset-hound shaped ears desperately searched for the sound.

Sir Didymus behaved in a similar manner, his bushy tail swishing side to side in a blonde blur, “My lady!”

Hoggle whirled around, eyes wide as dinner plates. He stumbled back and fell into the dirt. Gazing up at the translucent image of a woman standing over him. Tall, with long black hair, and pale-green eyes. Hoggle rubbed his eyes but still, the haunting presence lingered like a ghost in a graveyard.

If he’d been by himself he would have discredited it easier. With Ludo and Sir Didymus in his company, not even he could deny the sight of the specter before him.

“S...S'it really you?” desperation clung to his words, along with a loneliness he'd kept buried deep.

The image of Sarah looked around, confused at first, and then she saw him.

Hoggle tried to swallow the knot in his throat as he extended a shaky hand towards her. The thin image of her flickered, and upon contact, Sarah disappeared again.

-----

“Sarah?”

She didn’t look up from the floor, focused on the arguably-ugly patterned carpet like it offended her. Sarah was at her wits end. First she had a Spriggan to deal with and now a Fiery of all things! She didn't even want to think about Jareth, Toby's claim of him missing affected her in ways she didn't understand.

Her name was called again, “Sarah.”

The tick of a clock brought her senses back one by one, slowly, she raised her head. Tired eyes shifted to the old fashioned clock nestled on the corner of the wooden desk. Sarah set her sights on the coffee table next where a teacup sat in front of her. It's contents long abandoned, the liquid just as cold as the blood in her veins.

“You drifted off,” a melodic scratch of pencil against paper mixed with the question, “where did you go just then?”

Sarah studied him for a moment, Dr. Zakar looked more like an Oxford Professor than a therapist. His brown suit was freshly pressed and his shoes polished. Red hair slicked back save for the few strands hanging just about his brow. Black, thick framed glasses obscured his eyes so she couldn't look directly into them.

A lie would do little for her, yet Sarah couldn't find it in herself to give him the truth. Not the whole truth anyway. He would call the whole incident a wild hallucination.

“I don’t know,” She admitted. Leaning forward to drop her head in her hands with a sigh, “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

He set aside the notepad, giving her his full attention, “Another nightmare?”

“No,” Sarah managed to compose herself. Without realizing it, she started to gnaw on her thumb nail.

“Remember that my job is not to judge you, Sarah. I am here to help encourage you through your struggles. You already have everything you need to conquer them,” Zakar explained calmly, recognizing the anxious habit. “That being said, I cannot give you any guidance if I don’t know the root of the problem.”

He had a point, she couldn’t deny that. As the events of the previous night played in her head like a broken record Sarah wondered where to even begin. It all spiraled out of control in a way she could barely process.

“Last night I found out someone I knew was…” the words trailed off into tense silence. Did she mention the Spriggan and the Fiery or leave it at that? “Missing. He went missing and honestly? I don’t know how I feel.”

“It sounds as though this person left quite an impact on you, I take it you were close?” His inquiry was laced both with concern and caution, showing his condolences but not wanting to further upset her.

“It was complicated, and it was a long time ago. We were different people then. I knew him without really knowing him,” Sarah clenched her hands tight in her lap, “some part of me feels like I should be worried, like I should run through every worst case scenario. What if something bad happened? What if he’s hurt? But...”

Zakar tilted his head, “another part says otherwise?”

“It’s been fifteen years since we last saw each other. I wouldn’t even know what to say if I saw him again,” Sarah rubbed her temples and groaned, dark brows pulling together.

The clock on his desk chimed twice.

A frown pulled his features, “It seems we’ve reached the end of our session. Though I want you to know, Sarah. You will overcome this grief. Nothing has to be resolved tomorrow, there is a lot to process, and even more to work through. Go home and paint your frustrations, or write them down. Anything to get them out.”

As Sarah left the office she noticed the air felt significantly lighter than it had before she went in, Dr. Zakar’s parting advice stuck with her. She hated how much she thought of Jareth. Even before the news of him missing, the Goblin King often dwelled in a dark corner of her mind. If Jareth wasn’t in the Underground then where else could he possibly be? Sarah started her car and focused on the road ahead.

Upon return to her apartment, the last bits of anxiety washed away as the sound of whimpers and nails against hardwoods echoed behind the door. Sarah didn’t realize how much she missed having a dog till Gwendolyn came into her life. “Hey pretty girl,” Sarah cooed once the door opened Kneeling down to greet her three legged companion. Gwendolyn was a five year old pitbull with a coat the color of caramel and big brown eyes. Sarah’s heart went out to the pup, who came from a hard life on the streets. She felt like she couldn’t leave the shelter without her.

Sarah scratched behind her ears and paused as she set her keys down on the kitchen counter. She stepped towards the half finished painting, the one she’d done the instant she woke from her dream. At first she’d been in the forest with Hoggle, Ludo, and Sir Didymus in her company. Then the forest fell into a sea of white and silver. Sarah shuddered as the details haunted her:

She descended into a broken ballroom. Once pristine chairs and tables were thrown to various parts of the room, scuffed, bent, and broken. Shattered glass and glitter covered the floor, save for a bare circle where Sarah stood in the center of the room. Dawning the white princess dress she’d worn fifteen years ago. Frantic eyes took everything in as her head whipped around. Dancers laid sprawled over one another like puppets with their strings cut.

Except for him.

His name left her tongue barely above a whisper, “Jareth.”

Rather than address her, the Goblin King stood frozen. The dark mask with twisted horns remained against his face, hiding his eyes from her. In an unusual motion he reached a hand out for her. Though he didn’t move in the same fluid, captivating way he had before. Instead Jareth moved like an old toy being wound up for the first time in forever. A crystal appeared in his hand, and his last words echoed around her.

“I ask for so little.”

He stepped towards her.

“Just fear me,”

Another step.

“Love me,”

Sarah retreated with each advancement, eyes wide, and skin white as a sheet. Whatever defiant remark she had ready to shout at him died on her tongue. Jareth loomed over her now, her back flat against the wall. She had nowhere to run.

Forced to look into vacant eyes as he sounded so defeated.

“Do as I say and I-”

Gwendolyn whimpered beside her, gently butting her head against Sarah’s leg.

Black curtains cascaded down her back as she turned to look at her companion, Sarah gave her a sad smile and smoothed a hand down her neck, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Sarah looked back at the expression she’d been so desperate to capture. Why should she be worried about Jareth? Why did her heart absolutely ache at the thought of him cold, alone, and hurt? Her hand started to reach for his half painted cheek but something stopped her. Sarah bit her lip in wonder as the idea of calling him raised to the surface.

With a small shake of the head, Sarah covered it, and tried to bury any other thoughts of him away for the time being. She had other things to focus on. The Spriggan, the Fiery, and Toby’s growing obsession with the Labyrinth. She took one final glance at the painting, “Where are you Jareth?”

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Taglist:

@faeriexqueen

@tangentasilem

@withinthecrystal

@purplesigebert

#labyrinth #labyrinth fanfiction #labyrinth fic #labyrinth fandom #sarah williams #jareth the goblin king #toby williams #ludo #hoggle #sir didymus #my writing #writers on tumblr #two worlds two hearts

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jimlingss · 4 years

Text

Sugar and Coffee [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4.3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

“I’m in love with you,” he asserts. “Gross.” Your answer is instinctive. But you’re not disgusted with him. Your features don’t twist. Your lips don’t become lopsided. Rather, the word is stated blankly. Impulsively. After all, you’ve conditioned yourself to respond like that — like anything in relation to romance is now awful. “Yeah.” Jungkook sighs, hair shagging over his forehead as he looks down. “I know. I’m pretty disgusted with myself too. But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m still in love with you. Fucking head over heels and all that crap.” You’re rendered speechless, about to ask him if he’s fucking with you, if this is some kind of sick joke. But then suddenly, Jungkook sighs loudly, startling you. His rigid body deflates, the tension in his muscles leaves and he knocks his head back, taking a deep breath. “God, it feels so good to be honest. With myself and with you.” The sun is setting over the horizon, the warmth soaking into his skin and softening his edges. The pair of you face each other in the middle of the empty sidewalk on an equally empty campus. There’s nowhere to run, nowhere to take cover. You wonder how long he’s felt this way for. You’re conflicted, unsure what to tell him. “Love’s a strong word, Jungkook.” “I’m aware.” “H-How are you even sure?” The dark-haired man looks you in the eye, his own becoming half-lidded. His breathing turns shallow, heavy in his chest and out his parted lips. “I’m sure.” You know Jungkook well enough to recognize his earnest sincerity. There isn’t a shred of doubt in his gaze nor his expression. He doesn’t waver once in his bold conviction. There’s only truth. “Well…...shit.” The words sink into you. The claws and pointed ends of each syllable nick into your flesh. In an instant, your impassiveness is torn from you — your placid state taken — your stoic face uncovered. “Fuck. Fuck!” You scream up into the sky, turning around, hands in your hair. What he’s saying registers and you hate it. You hate that love has to mess up every single relationship that you have. Goddamn. You can’t keep that disease away from affecting the people you care about most. Jungkook watches you have the small meltdown with widened eyes, not sure what to do or say. But then you whirl around after a moment, determination set in your features. All of a sudden, you grab his hand, patting it with your other firmly as if you were a doctor coaxing and comforting a patient. “We can overcome this together.” “What?” “It’s okay. This happens. If you’re friends with someone from the gender you’re attracted to, it’s natural you end up having a crush on them. It’s expected actually, considering we spend so much time together and interact so much. People encounter this issue all the time, but we can overcome it, Jungkook. Together.” You put your hand on his shoulder, eyes sympathetic. “I’ll help you get over me.” Jungkook can feel his left eye twitching. Of all responses, he did not expect this one. You’re acting like his therapist and that he’s got some kind of illness. You even end up thanking him for telling you the truth. Jungkook might actually need to see a therapist after talking to you.

Infatuation only lasts so long. Personally, in your humble opinion, you aren’t hot shit anyway. You’re not that great. Jungkook will get over himself when he sees you for how you really are. If anyone’s ever liked you, they won’t for long — you have evidence of that. “Hey, buddy!” You give finger guns as a greeting, making sure to not get too close to him. “You don’t need to patronize me.” Your voice releases stiff laughter. “Alright, bro.” You put your fist out for a fist bump, but Jungkook completely ignores you. He walks right past you with his hands in the pockets of his open coat. “Are you coming or are you going to stand there like an idiot?” he asks, briefly glancing over his shoulder. You scoff. Ever since the whole traumatizing confession, nothing’s changed. But at the same time everything has. Jungkook doesn’t act any differently — he still glares at you, calls you stupid and a witch. But you also begin to notice how affectionate his physical gestures are, when he taps your arm, when takes your shoulder to guide you away from a crowd, when he pats your head. And your efforts of keeping things as platonic as possible inadvertently makes everything awkward. It’s even worse now that you’re literally spending so much time with Jungkook. Exclusively. It’s just him, and for the months to come, it will only be him. You’ve already decided within the first minute that you won’t ignore him or distance yourself. You can’t. Not with the upcoming internship, and not when you’ve had that happen to you. You won’t do such a cruel thing to someone else. Jungkook will always be your friend no matter what and you’ll make sure of that. You catch up with him. “You know, I haven’t showered in days. This is like three-day old hair. Greasy, right? I just get so lazy showering.” “Right.” He ignores you. It goes silent and you noisily clear your throat. “Man, I had the worst shit today. It was explosive, dude.” “You really think toilet humour is going to make me stop liking you?” Jungkook stops in his tracks and you halt in a delayed manner. He shifts towards you, glaring. “What do you take me for?” You pout. “At least I’m trying.” “Try harder.” He pauses. “For the sake of both of us.” You’re befuddled over his answer and when he starts walking again, you quicken your pace to match his. “What? You don’t want to like me?” “Not if you don’t want me to. I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he hums thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.” “I already like you,” you mumble. “See?” Jungkook points out abruptly as the corner of his mouth quirks into a subtle smile. “That’s not going to help with my situation.” “Sorry.” Your cheeks puff in your pout. “Neither is that,” He says and when you quirk your head to the side, brows furrowing, he grins boyishly. “Stop worrying about it before you give yourself wrinkles. Save your energy for the internship. I’m the least of your concerns.” He’s wrong. Jeon Jungkook is the biggest thing on your mind lately.

Kim’s Wedding Cake Company sits in the middle of Imlings Avenue. It’s a bakery played in between two small boutiques. It has tan brick walls and the shop’s sign is slightly worn around the red letters, but still legible. The doorway is narrow and crowded by two large glass windows on either side that invites onlookers inside for a session of cake tasting. The bell chimes as Jungkook pushes the door open, keeping it wide until you’re able to step in. The cream walls and the floorboards create a cozy atmosphere like you’re home. But what sets it aside from an intimate abode is the paintings of wedding cakes on the walls and the rounded tables with chairs around them for customers to sit at. A counter is curved at the corner of the room, cutting off the main area from the back. The moment the bell stops ringing, a short woman comes frantically stumbling out from the doorway. “Welcome!” She grins and the wrinkles around her eyes crease. Her brunette hair is in a bun, strays falling to frame her face. The woman is maybe around her early forties. “Congratulations on your engagement!” She grabs her binder and starts flipping. “Do you have an appointment?” “Oh no! He and I…” You point at Jungkook and then back at yourself, flustered. “We’re not like that.” Jungkook is holding back laughter, watching you flounder about. You’ve suddenly become so anxious at the idea that the pair of you are engaged. He turns away to look at the woman. “What she means is that we’re your interns.” “Oh, thank god.” The woman sighs, stepping back. “For a second here, I thought I had completely forgotten about an appointment.” She turns on her feet, placing her hands on her hips and shouts, “Namjoon! Honey! We were supposed to get our interns today?!” From the other room, a man’s voice screams back. “What?!” She goes closer to the doorway, shrieking, “Our interns! Were they supposed to come today?!” “No! They’re coming in a week from now!” “Then why are they standing right here?!” “What?!” “Why are they standing here?!” You exchange a look with Jungkook, not sure what’s going on. At the same time, a stocky, tall man in the traditional chef's uniform emerges — white double-breasted jacket, black pants and an apron. “I heard you, I heard you.” “Did you mark it wrong in the calendar again?” “I swear I didn’t—” The older man’s eyes widen as they catch the two of you standing there awkwardly. You lift your hand in salutation and he laughs. “Well, what do you know! Here they are, today! Welcome to our home!” Namjoon opens the wooden separator, comes out and wipes his hands on his apron haphazardly to shake both of your hands. His wife sighs and follows closely to greet you. “You must be Y/N and Jungsook?” “Jungkook,” he corrects in dismay while you try to hide your giggles. “Right, right. My bad. My name is Namjoon and my wife here is Sejeong.” Sejeong smiles. “I’m glad you’re both on board. Do you have any experience doing wedding cakes?�� “No, we haven’t.” “It’s alright,” she reassures, “We’ll teach you along the way.” “We need all the help we can get.” Namjoon sighs. “Ever since Soohyun went on maternity leave, we’ve been swamped up to our chins. Doesn’t help that it’s wedding season.” “Auntie.” A four foot eight girl comes out from the back, her long black hair tied into a ponytail at the crown of her head, and coral apron tied around her body. “The chocolate’s melted—” The girl freezes on her spot, big eyes pinpointing onto Jungkook. You glance at him, and he looks at you with a small shrug. “Has it?” Sejeong smiles and brushes past her. “I’ll go check.” The younger girl doesn’t move and Namjoon smiles. “Oh, this is my eighteen year old niece, Yuna. She’s working here part-time to help out, mostly on the weekends when she’s not at school.” “Nice to meet you.” She timidly approaches Jungkook, clearing her throat and batting her lashes at him. Jungkook blankly shakes her hand. “Hi.” You extend your own hand and it’s only then that she seems to notice you and reluctantly shakes it. “I’m Y/N and this is Jungkook.” “Jungkook,” she murmurs after you. “So you’re going to work here till August?” “Yes, they will.” Namjoon laughs heartily. “You should go help your aunt look at the chocolate, Yuna. You can only learn if you know what you did wrong or right.” “Fine.” She exhales and drags her feet away, throwing a fleeting look to Jungkook over her shoulder. Namjoon re-directs his attention to the two of you with a softened smile. “Let me show you around!” The back area is a short hall that splits into three. The door to the left is a room with a table and chairs, posters of wedding cakes on the walls and happily married couples on their wedding day. “This is our only private room we have. It’s just in case a couple has a large party with them or would like some privacy when we have our consultation.” You peek your head into the room across from it. “That is our staff room and our bathroom and where our offices are. You can always eat your lunch or take a break here.” Namjoon leads you the other way and it’s to the place you know best — silver countertops, stoves, ovens, and sinks galore. “And this is our kitchen. We have a fridge here where we keep our cakes, a small fridge, our pantry. You’ll get yourself familiar pretty soon, don’t worry.” You return from the tour back to the main area, asking questions along the way which Namjoon is happy to answer. The pair of you also offer more insight into what you know and he’s pleasantly surprised that his two interns are more experienced than expected. “It can get pretty hectic around here during the wedding season. Some days we just have appointments and cake tasting all day. Other times, we’re rushing to make a wedding cake for the following day or we might be at the wedding venue getting it all set up. We usually open up shop around eight in the morning and you guys are let off at four.” “Don’t worry, if we have to stay late to catch up on work or finish a cake up, you’ll get paid handsomely.” Namjoon grins. “We work five days a week. Sometimes you’ll have to come in on the Saturday if we have a wedding on Sunday, but it’s not often. Any questions? Comments?” “Um…” You exchange expressions with Jungkook. “No, not really. I think we got it.” Suddenly the older man bursts out laughing, startling you both. “You two don’t have to be so anxious! I was a student once too. Don’t they say wedding cake internships are one of the hardest ones you can take?” “Uh.” Jungkook gingerly smiles. “We’ve heard of that.” “Yep.” The older man bobs his head. “That’s what I thought. But don’t worry, it’ll be a lot of work, but it’ll be fun. Just don’t get on my wife’s bad side and you’ll be fine and dandy.” “Are you talking badly about me?” Sejeong comes from the back, glaring at her husband. “Oh, there she comes.” In spite of his playful warnings, Namjoon laughs, dimples marked on each side of his cheek. He leans over to plop a kiss at the top of her head and waltzes into the back, leaving her sighing. “That man. Hopeless, I swear. Anyhow...I hope you both are ready!” Sejeong claps her hands together. “No time like the present to start learning and diving into it! We have a couple arriving in an hour for a consultation and I want you guys to lead. Should be easy enough!” The two of you nod, preparing yourselves. // Both Namjoon and Sejeong give you a few moments to yourselves to breathe and not be overwhelmed. But you’re kind of excited. It’s a bit surreal that one moment you’re sitting in a lecture hall learning about theory and the next, you’re in the real world, about to apply all the knowledge you’ve gathered. For a while now, you’ve missed working and being more hands-on. You glance down to your coral apron they gave you. Jungkook is in the same one and while he grumbled about not wearing much pink before, he looks cute in it. You wanted to take a picture but he didn’t let you. Self-conscious Jungkook is one you’ve seldom seen and admittedly, endearing. “They seem really nice.” And in love. It’s pleasant to see. Even with how disgusting romance is. It just isn’t often that you can look at a couple and not think about their inevitable doom. “Yeah, they are. Thankfully. God knows how many strict head chefs are out there.” You wonder what it’s like to own a business with your husband and work together all the time — though you don’t voice your question aloud. You have an inkling Jungkook would flirtatiously answer ‘that could be us’ and you don’t need to be distracted by him right now. His presence is a distraction enough. “How about Yuna though?” You elbow him lightly in the ribs, giving a nudge while wiggling your brows. “I think she likes you.” Jungkook’s expression blanches. “She’s still in high school.” “I’m just kidding—” “And some other girl showing up is not going to stop me from liking you any less than I do,” Jungkook says nonchalantly, stating it like it’s a fact. He’s unaware of how your face heats. You quickly take a drink of water in an attempt to cool down. Goddammit — he’s being a distraction already without you having to set him up. “You still owe me that favour.” You clear your throat, changing the subject. “Remember? When you challenged me saying you could pipe better than I can temper chocolate.” “I thought we called it even.” Jungkook grins, cutely with the mole dotted underneath his mouth. “Nu-uh. That’s not fair and you know it.” You put your foot down. “We agreed the loser would have to cover for the winner when they go on break or make a mistake. And you lost, Jeon.” “Already planning on making mistakes?” You sulk. “No. I just want you to have my back.” “You already have that,” Jungkook says tenderly with a smile. “And a lot more.” Your mouth is filled with cotton. The corner of his mouth curls even more, relishing in your surprised expression. He doesn’t even bat a lash and merely looks away when the bell to the front entrance rings. “Welcome to Kim’s Wedding Catering Company.” You tear your eyes away from Jeon Jungkook’s profile. “Do you have an appointment?” “Yes, we do.” The woman smiles, dressed in a white beret and trench coat, her cheeks blushing. She’s accompanied by another woman in a leather jacket who’s holding her hand. “It should be under Lee.” “You must be Sungkyung and Victoria, congratulations on your engagement.” The both of them glance at each other, sharing giddy smiles. “Thank you.” “Right this way.” Jungkook leads them to one of the wooden tables, setting out a book as you grab the slices of cake on the plate from the back, all decorated and labeled. Sejeong who’s been watching at the counter gives an encouraging thumbs up. “So your wedding is being held during the beginning of September?” “Yes and we’re planning to cut the cake during the evening,” Sungkyung says as Jungkook jots it down on his sheet. “Will this be an outdoor or indoor wedding?” “We’re planning to have it outdoors in a garden.” “That’s nice.” Jungkook smiles. “Do you have any themes in your wedding? Any colour scheme?” “We have butterflies and we have green and purple as our colours.” “And how many guests do you have?” “About a hundred.” “Okay.” You come to the table with the long plate and two forks. Both of the women are excited, eyes lighting up as you place the cakes in front of them and take a seat beside Jungkook. “This one is vanilla cake with buttercream. It’s simple, but a classic. This one is coconut cake with coconut cream. Red velvet with cream cheese frosting, chocolate with ganache, lemon with custard filling and fondant, strawberry with salted caramel filling and fondant, and the last one here is carrot cake with butterscotch sauce filling and chocolate buttercream icing. Take your time.” “I really like this one,” Victoria whispers to her fiancée, fork points to carrot cake. “Or at least the icing part.” “I prefer this one.” Sungkyung indicates the strawberry cake and takes another bite. “We can always mix and match,” you tell them with a smile. “It’s possible to do strawberry cake with buttercream.” “Buttercream usually tastes better than fondant, but if it’s hot outside, it might melt.” Jungkook’s brows knit together and you look at him, humming for a second. “Well, we always put a layer of fondant over the buttercream so they also get that smooth look and we wouldn’t have to worry about melting.” The boy nods. “Yeah, that would work.” “That sounds really good.” The two women smile at each other. “How much would it cost?” “Ummm…” Jungkook flips through the binder, memory failing him. He finally finds the table of all the prices on the tenth page. “For us, it depends on what kind of cake you end up choosing and how many tiers it’ll be, but it should be around four hundred to five hundred. For a hundred people, I’d recommend…..uh…” “Three to four layers.” You finish his sentence and Jungkook looks at you gratefully. You leave the two of them to finish up the cakes and to discuss with one another. Sejeong who’s been waiting at the back has her compliments prepared. “Great job, you two. Couldn’t have done it better myself!” It’s stressful to remember the details, but luckily Sejeong is merciful and allows the two of you to shadow her as she goes out to explain the designs, possible flower arrangements on the cake and discuss how they want it to look. She also goes more into detail about prices, providing the women with a write-up of what it would look like. When the consultation is finished, there’s not a moment to breathe. You’re ushered into the kitchen where Namjoon is working on a wedding cake. “So I already baked these babies yesterday and let them cool down in the fridge. I’ve also made the buttercream just now. Today we crumb coat our cakes and colour fondant. Tomorrow, we’re going to cover the cakes with fondant, put dowels in and stack our tiers, and decorate, then it’s all ready for delivery! Easy, huh?” “Umm…” The older man laughs noisily from his chest. “I’m guessing you two know how to crumb coat cakes?” “Yes, we do.” “Great. Then this is all on you. Make sure not to mess up! It’s the bride and groom’s special day! People only have a wedding once...hopefully.” There’s not any pressure whatsoever. Namjoon leaves, coming in and out to help with his wife and niece cleaning the front and watching over your shoulder. But he has little to say to both you and Jungkook when he finds your techniques sufficient. The cakes are placed on a turntable, bench scrapers and offset icing spatulas in hand. You add a thin layer of frosting to trap cake crumbs and prevent them from popping up in your finished cake. And while you crumb coat two layers, Jungkook does one and goes to colour fondant. Namjoon teaches him, rolling the fondant into a ball and kneading until it’s soft and pliable. A small dot of pink is added and he kneads the colour until it’s blended. Once you’re done with the cakes, you help Jungkook with another ball of fondant, kneading until your arms are sore. Afterwards, the two of you assist Sejeong and Yuna, organizing the shelves of baking pans, various coloured ribbons, and bins of cookie and cake cutters. It’s tiresome, but you feel rejuvenated when they let you try some of the spare cake slices they offer. It’s delicious, melting on your palate and Namjoon jokingly quizzes both of you on what kind of icing works best with what cakes and what ingredients are in each of them. You’d like to say you won. They also teach you how to answer emails and phone calls, and both you and Jungkook arrange a few appointments for next week. The day is over before you’ve realized. “Good work, you two!” Sejeong praises. “You’re very fast learners.” “I heard you rank high at your school.” Namjoon smiles in spite of your modest protests. “I believe you know her as Miss. Kang. She speaks highly of you two and I’m not disappointed.” “Jungkook, I heard you wanted to be a Chocolatier?” Namjoon asks and the boy is like a deer in the headlights, doe eyes rounded. He nods slowly. “Yes, that’s my long-term goal.” “When we have a moment then, I’ll work on something with you,” he promises with another dimpled smile and Jungkook is visibly enthused. “Anyway, I hope nothing was too overwhelming. Get a good night’s rest and we’ll continue tomorrow!” They close up shop as the sun sets over the horizon and Yuna waves wildly, bidding Jungkook farewell. “Bye, Jungkook!” He makes a noise, a small ‘bye’ to her before the two of you turn away after waving to the married couple. You walk down the street together, towards the bus stop where it’ll guide you home. “That wasn’t bad.” “Yeah.” There’s a pause. Jungkook smiles at you. “It wasn’t.” Silence eventually falls in between the spaces. You can feel your eye bags deepening, your bones creaking with every movement. You’re exhausted from the long day, unable to utter a single word, but the quiet that settles is comfortable rather than awkward. Your feet are moving on their own against the pavement, the sounds of cars moving past shaping the white noise of the city. It’s a long way back home, but as you glance at Jungkook, walking alongside him with your footsteps synced together, you’re glad he’s here. The two of you have each other for support. You’re unknowing to how Jungkook shares the same sentiment. He takes a glimpse of you when you don’t notice, stealing glances like he’s stealing candy. The smile on his face softens. His own words echo back to him— “I just wonder what’s more difficult,” he had hummed thoughtfully, “You trying to get me to stop liking you or me trying to make you like me.” It occurs to Jungkook that he’s found his answer. He realizes he can’t ‘overcome’ his feelings. He can’t get over you like you think he can.

If you rejected him, his concern of making you uncomfortable would far outweigh these simmering emotions inside of him, but you didn’t. The fact of the matter is that Jungkook knows your aversion is towards love, not him. And with such uncertainty and possibilities, it’s impossible to get over you.

It won’t work. Not when you’re you.

So Jungkook chooses the other path — the other approach. He makes the decision right then and there. Instead of idly standing by and allowing you to sprout nonsense and drive him even more crazy, he’s going to act. He’s going to actually do something about his feelings— Jeon Jungkook is going to court you.

#bts fanfic #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #sugar and coffee #btsboulangerie #jungkook reader insert #JUNGKOOK AS DUMB #AND OC AS DUMBER #IS JUNGOO BRAVE OR STUPID #does it even matter?? cause he's about to evolve Y'ALL #LEVELING UP

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ffangirlingsince2001 · 4 years

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End of the Tunnel: I

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: (future as well as present) suicidal thoughts, smut, angst, fluff, depression, attempted SUICIDE, self harm, torture, mentions of torture

A/N: So, this is pretty dark, just FYI. There will be happy moments but a lot of the time it will get pretty dark. Trigger warning applies now, just be forewarned. Please enjoy though if you are willing to suffer through the tragedy to get to the light at the end of the tunnel.

MASTERLIST

***

The world ended on May 2, 1998.

At least it did for George Weasley.

He was not dead, of course. His mother and father still loved him. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, and Ginny all still hugged him. His business was doing splendid, far better than it ever had before the war, Ron was even helping him run it. And yet, the world felt as if it no longer turned because Fred was gone and that was all that really mattered.

May 2 had been awful, but the funeral was even worse. Friends, family, and strangers wanting nothing more than to hug him or shake his hand when all he wanted to do was destroy everything that touched him. He hadn’t shed any tears that day. He figured he was all out, but now that he considered it, he was sure he had just grown numb.

He had never had a problem smiling before, and even in the winter he was constantly warm, denying every coat his mother sent his way. And now, he was sure he had forgotten how to smile and even in the hottest part of July he wore a sweater, fighting off the chills that ran along his spine.

His mother had pleaded with him to go to therapy, to talk to someone about the tragedy but he had refused. There was nothing a therapist could tell him that he didn’t already know.

He knew he was depressed; he knew Fred was never coming back, and he knew he needed to move forward. He had no interest in reliving the moments when he had witnessed the cold lifeless body of his twin lying on the floor of the school they had once attended. All he wanted to do was the lock the door to his new flat and never come out. He had considered returning to his home above the shop but every time he thought of the memories he had built there his stomach churned and before he knew it he was emptying the contents of his stomach into the nearest sink. So, he gave it to Ron and Hermione and bought himself a smaller one.

He was laying in the bed that occupied most of the studio flat, thinking about the day he moved in as he struggled to get up. The walls were grey, and the bedsheets were white. He hadn’t bothered to buy curtains, so the dingy light of the cloudy morning was highlighting the dust he had let build up over the months. No pictures hung on the walls; no Knick knacks sat on the shelves. Dishes were piling up from the last spout of motivation, not that he ate a whole lot these days. Most importantly, there were no mirrors. He had ripped the bathroom one from the wall and shattered it in the street the moment he moved in, completely satisfied with giving up his security deposit for a little bit of sanity. His world was completely colorless. His skin was pale and the warmth that had generally resided in his face had seeped away like water from a washcloth. In fact, the only color one could find in the small room was his hair, shining just as brightly as it had the day the world ended.

He had dyed it once. A dark brown, the most boring color he could think of, but the moment his mother had seen it she burst into tears and begrudgingly changed it back, if only to avoid the dirty looks that Ginny shot him through the very uncomfortable family dinner.

Today was the first of March, and George could feel the anniversary of Fred’s death drawing nearer with every movement of his body. His muscles ached and his bones creaked like an old rocking chair no one had touched in a century.

As he laid there he considered never getting up, but eventually with great effort he pulled himself from the cold sheets and pulled on the dullest clothing he owned. A grey tailcoat covered a white button up and black slacks, severely pressed hung a bit short over his ankles. The shoes were so old they no longer shined. He didn’t bother brushing his hair, sure that the howling wind would mess it up anyway.

He left the door without eating breakfast and turned down the street in the opposite direction of the store. He couldn’t bare to go to work today, and Ron could handle it.

Ron had gotten a lot better at handling it.

He was right about the wind, it battled against him like it was trying to force him to go to work, but he pushed on, determined to spend his day in miserable loneliness. Somedays he imagined Fred was screaming at him from the clouds, telling him to stop being a git and move on with his life, but he had never been good at taking orders. So, without any regard for the signs of the universe he continued to push on, wrapping his arms around himself as he tried to keep warm.

In honor of his mood, it began to pour and before he knew it, he was drenched to the bone, the neat he clothes he had donned pressing tightly against this skin. By now he was in a muggle town he had never been to. The streets were completely empty, no one wanting to get caught in the torrential downpour.

He was going to turn around, go home if not to work, when he heard a voice shouting through a roll of thunder. He glanced around, searching for the source, and was met with the sight of a woman hailing him towards her store. He looked behind him, checking for someone else, when he heard a sharp laugh.

“I’m talking to you, silly. Now, come in before you catch a cold,” she called, stepping into the rain to usher him closer. He walked quickly, ducking through the doorway as he followed her inside. He watched as she shoved the door closed against the atrocious wind, the bell jingling ferociously overhead. When she had succeeded, deadbolting it for good measure she turned to face him. She wrung out her blonde hair as she studied him with bright eyes (they reminded him an awful lot of what his used to look like). “What on earth are you doing out in this weather?” she laughed, and he shrugged, unsure of how to approach the situation. He had not been met with such glee in an exceptionally long time. When he didn’t respond he smile faded and concern rested heavy on her shoulders. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t think so,” he muttered, and she nodded.

“Then I think you need a drink.” She ushered him to barstool and disappeared behind the counter. “Butterbeer or tap?” His eyes snapped to her when she mentioned the magical drink. “Butterbeer then.”

“You’re a witch?” he blurted, and she laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh no, but I know my customers, and you are clearly a wizard.”

“How can you tell?”

“The wand in your tailcoat.” He glanced down and sure enough, a faint outline of his wand was visible against the fabric. “No need to obliviate me though, I’m no snitch. I’ve had all types in this little pub of mine, vampires, werewolves after a particularly bad night, wizards, what you call muggles, I’ve even had a couple goblins gamble in my back room, no bias here.” He didn’t say anything as she twittered on, setting the mug in front of him and leaning on her elbows as she took him in with earnest curiosity. A few minutes of silence before she spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it, that’s what bartenders are for to hear all your tragedies while you drown them in the best liquor we have?”

“Who are you?”

“Hannah Gladdis. And you are?”

“George Weasley.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen, twenty in June. You?”

“Twenty-one in April. How’d you come to own a magical bar at nineteen?”

“It was a tragic thing really, last year the owner died in a war with your sort. I was a waitress then, but he left it to me in his will, so now it’s all mine. Honestly, I’m surprised I survived long enough to own it, luck I guess.”

“What happened?”

“These men in masks came and tore the place apart looking for the owner, shouting something about blood traitors, but he wasn’t in. It was just me, hiding right behind this counter praying that they wouldn’t find me.”

“Did they?”

“Yes,” she whispered, fear creeping into her eyes as she thought about the night she was describing to him. “They used two spells. One made me feel like I was on fire and the other made me bleed, I can barely remember it. The whole thing was awful, by the time they were sure I didn’t know I could barely move. They set the place on fire and left me to die, still hunting for him, I guess since he’s dead now. Somehow someone saved me, I don’t even remember them but they must have performed a counter curse because I got out with only a few scars, but you would know all about those,” she said noting his missing ear. “Were you in the war?”

“Right in the center of it. Do you have any firewhiskey?” She nodded and dropped beneath the counter and pulled out the familiar bottle.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“How do you know I lost anyone?” he growled, and she offered him a sad smile.

“I lost friends and I’m not even a witch, I figured a hero right in the center of it wouldn’t come out unscathed. Also you’re missing an ear.” He grunted and threw back the shot of liquor she had poured. “You won though?”

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way,” he mumbled, and she nodded, taking one of his hands into hers. He watched her hands cradle his as if he were the fragile one, but he could see the scars that were etched into her fingers. He ran is thumb along one of the more prominent ones. When he glanced up, she was biting her lip, eyes focused on the thumb that was stroking the harsh scar. He whispered her name, but she didn’t move. He said it again and this time her eyes met his. He wanted to say they were blue, but that didn’t seem quite right. Her dark eyelashes were hanging heavily over them, casting shadows into the two small pools of ocean that stared back at him. He was going to say something more, let the light buzz from the liquor take control and pull her against him, but she moved away before he could. With an awkward laugh she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and pulled herself a shot, downing it just as quickly.

“It’s not even noon,” she laughed to herself and he shrugged.

“I’ve been drunk before noon before, nothing to ashamed of.”

“Isn’t that a sign of alcoholism?”

“Not that I’ve ever heard of before.” He flashed her a tight, unpracticed smile that made his heart cringe against his ribs but it seemed to work. Pink washed over her cheeks and she was quick to busy herself among the empty glasses, searching for one to clean.

“So, what’s someone like you wandering the streets during a downpour?”

“Escaping.”

“By catching a cold?”

“Or something like that.” She laughed awkwardly, running a damp washrag over the top of the bar, avoiding eye contact at all costs, and it was killing him. He wanted to look into her eyes all day. He had to think of something, do something, say something that would draw her back.

“Why didn’t the Ministry take your memories?” he asked, and then silently cursed himself. Out of all the topics he could have chosen, he chose the one that terrified her. He hadn’t spoken to a stranger so domestically in such a long time it seemed he was out of practice.

“They don’t know, as far as I know they don’t even know I exist. And I would like to keep it that way if you don’t mind.”

“Wouldn’t it be better to forget?”

“To forget what?”

“All that pain and fear.”

“I considered it at first, but then I decided it was better to know what was coming then feel broken all over again.”

“No one is going to hurt you like that again,” he growled, far more aggressively than he had intended and she laugh, taking his hand and finally allowing their eyes to meet once more. She didn’t seem scared when she looked at him, it was if she almost wanted to believe him. She really seemed to believe the idea he could chase away her nightmares. He knew he would disappoint; he could barely chase away his own.

“You sound so sure, George, but alas, you won’t always be sitting in my little bar to protect me.”

“Then come home with me.”

She was shocked to say the least, at least that’s what her eyes said.

“I barely know you.”

“Then get to know me.”

“I’m working.”

“You said it yourself, no one is out in this rainstorm.” He sauntered towards the window and flipped the sign around and locked the door. “And anyways, it seems you’re closed.” She studied him closely, and he was acutely aware that she was still holding his hand. Finally, she nodded and for the first time in ten months his heart jolted with joy. He spun her around the bar and caught her in his arms. “Ready?”

“For what?” she began to ask but they were already gone, whipping through the air as he apparated them to the small flat.

She was laughing when they landed, clutching her stomach as she tried to catch her breath.

“My god, that was exhilarating,” she gasped. She was still holding his hand, tighter than ever. He watched her as she looked around and cursed himself for not keeping the place cleaner. “I like your place.” He was sure she was lying; it was so dull and lifeless it was almost a prison cell. The counters were dirty, and the trashcan was overflowing. “It could use a little color, but maybe that’s the beauty of it. I can never decide how to decorate so I’m constantly having to remodel, this way I can just close my eyes and imagine the walls orange.”

“Orange?”

“Or maybe a soft teal, I don’t know, it depends on my mood.” He caught him smiling again for the second time on the day he woke up feeling like death. She was like a ball of sunshine and she was standing in the little place he called home. For the first time since he had been born, he found himself wishing his home was bigger. Even when he was a kid he had never cared, but now that there was someone he was dying to impress he wished he owned the minster’s mansion.

“It’s not much…”

“It’s lovely.” Color tinged his cheeks and now it was his turn to busy himself in the kitchen.

“Would you like some tea?”

“Oh, yes, why thank you,” she said as she glanced out the window, “What part of town are we in?”

“Just on the edge of Diagon Alley.”

“Oh really! I’ve always wanted to come; I’ve heard it’s absolutely beautiful. Wow, a real wizard town. Is it true what they say about Hogsmeade?”

“It depends on what they say,” he chuckled, bathing in her excitement. It was a welcome tone, something he had not felt since months before the end of the world.

“That it’s absolutely picturesque. Someone showed me a post card once, and I called her a liar, told her nothing but a painting could be that beautiful, but she assured me it was all true.”

“She wasn’t lying, if you want, I’ll take you sometime.”

“Wow, not even a first date and you’re already promising to whisk me off to some beautiful village in the countryside.” He blushed when he realized what he had said, abashed that this woman had gotten into his head so quickly. He had never been so infatuated with anything. He turned quickly, spilling hot tea over the side of his hand, but he barely even noticed. Her eyes were big and blue as she stared at him, cheeks pink and lips parted. “George…” she began but the teacups hadn’t even hit the ground when he was taking her into his arms and kissing her as softly as his feelings would allow.

She tasted like Christmas. Cinnamon from the firewhiskey and butterscotch from the beer tainted her lips like frosting on cake he had only eaten in a distant memory. He wanted to throw her to his bed and devour her, experience every inch she would allow him, but her tentative fingers stopped him. He was stranger who had apparated her to his flat in a place she did not know, and now he was doing everything in his power to ravish her like the goddess she appeared to be.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, pulling away as far as he dared. He was not sure he would ever be able to be far from her again, not when he knew how wonderful she was. She stepped forward, still hesitant, and cupped his cheek in her hand.

“No, don’t be. That was brilliant.”

“Then would you mind if I did it again?” She laughed and leapt into his arms, pressing her lips against his. He had never understood people comparing others to home, but as he wrapped his arms around her and he felt her fingers unbuttoning his shirt as fast as she could manage. His hands dropped to the hem of her shirt, prepared to pull it off and admire her entirety but she jerked back. He stopped immediately, pulling away as he searched her face for what he had done wrong. She wasn’t looking at him again, eyes crossed over her chest as she shuffled her feet.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and he shook his head, taking her cheek in his hand.

“Don’t be. Tell me what you want. If it’s nothing then we’ll do nothing,” he whispered and with tentative fingers she brushed the place where is ear had once been. He wanted to pull away, but he didn’t dare, not when she looked like she was going to break.

“Very few survived your war without scars, even us muggles.” She pulled her hand away and took a deep breath before pulling her shirt over her head. He watched it hit the ground before trailing his gaze over her skin. She hadn’t lied. Scars were etched across skin that had once been soft. They were harsh and angry, still red after what he had assumed was months of healing. Silence crept into the room as he stared, anger coursing through his veins as he imagined the kind of pain that had caused these scars. “Say something,” she whispered, words catching in her throat.

“If I ever find who did this to you, I will not hesitate to kill them,” he growled and she let out a short laugh. “I’m not kidding.” She leaned up and kissed him softly, gratitude laced in every touch. He pulled her closer, fingers trailing the scars that plagued her. They tipped into his bed with unexpected grace, laughing between kisses. Quick fingers undid his pants and he followed suit, exposing soft skin raked with more scars. She didn’t pull away anymore, in fact he was sure she was trying to get closer than possible. Her legs pressed against his hips as her fingers explored every inch of skin. He flipped them over, admiring her against the bedsheets, blonde hair spread out like a halo. He leaned down and kissed her softly as she giggled against his lips.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered before he could stop himself and with all seriousness she nodded.

“Not in a thousand years.”

#george weasley imagine #george weasley x reader #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley smut #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley x reader angst #george weasley x reader fluff #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x reader fanfiction #end of the tunnel

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deliberatelyvague · 4 years

Text

Worthless (lucifer x fem!reader)

Pairing(s): [lucifer x depressed! reader]

Trigger Warning(s): Attempts at Suicide, depression and all the feelings that surround that.

Author’s Note: I have a few requests that I have to get to, but I’ve been feeling pretty bad mentally the past few days, so I can’t really find it in me to do things that could be happy. I’ll get to them as soon as I can, I promise.

Looking for my Masterlist? Here it is (x)

————

You took a slow, deep breath in as you laid on your bed. You really couldn’t find it in yourself to do much of anything else. You felt really overwhelmed, like everything was just building up to being too much for you to handle.

You had homework that you could be doing, and you knew that every day you didn’t do it it was just growing to be bigger and bigger, which in turn made you feel overwhelmed, but you didn’t move from your spot.

You just laid there, looking at the stars plastered onto your ceiling. It hurt so much to breathe. No, it hurt to be alive. You just wanted to die.

It made you feel worse, because you knew there was no good reason that you should be feeling like this, but you figured everything would be much easier if you were dead. Whether or not you would just be sent back to the Devildom, or if you would actually make it into the Celestial Realm, you didn’t know, but you didn’t particularly care.

You could only imagine how the brothers would react if they were to find your dead body, you could only imagine that they might not care.

You were a pathetic human, only here because of the exchange program. They only cared about you so that Diavolo would look good. Lucifer only cared about you because of the exchange program and keeping up Diavolo’s image.

Thinking about the fact that Lucifer doesn’t actually care about you made your chest ache more. You grabbed your blanket and pulled it over you, curling up in a ball and facing the wall, closing your eyes.

You weren’t going to fall asleep, your chest aching would stop you from that, and one of the brothers coming into your room will eventually wake you up anyway.

How much would really happen if you died? Of course, your family and friends back home would be devastated, and you would miss them. But they knew about your depression and suicidal ideation, you had gone to a therapist and had medicine, but that ended when you came down to the Devildom.

Now it was a few months without the medicine or therapy sessions, and you felt the repercussions of it. But you didn’t bother to tell them, you didn’t want to bother Diavolo with issues like that, Lucifer had too much on his plate involving the brothers, much less having your mental health add to the issues.

The door to your room opened gently, someone flipping on the light switch. You didn’t move, you couldn’t be bothered to move.

“[Y/N], get up. You need to work on homework. Mammon’s in all your classes, I know how much you guys got.” You hear Lucifer scold you, which made the aching in your chest make itself known again and make a weird feeling in your jaw as you sit up.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired, I guess,” You tell him as cheerily as you can, swinging your legs off of the bed and making your way over to your desk.

“You need to finish your work then you can sleep. Diavolo’s reputation is on the line, that should be your first priority.” You bit your lip, and nodded. Of course he couldn’t see through your facade, you had spent years working on it, so obviously it would easily be able to come back when needed.

“Okay,” you answer him and pull out your book work. He seemed content with that answer and he kissed the top of your head before leaving. The place where his lips touched your head felt warm, but it was quickly replaced with a dull ache.

“I’m going to start dinner, please be more attentive when it comes to getting your work done. Also, these grades do transfer to your home, so they also matter to your future,” he says and you just nod.

The last part didn’t really matter to you. How could you care about your future if you didn’t even see one for yourself? The entire conversation you just had with Lucifer left a bad taste in your mouth.

It made you feel worthless, like you weren’t anything more than a nuisance to him. He claimed he loved you- all the brothers told you they cared for you, but you didn’t feel it.

You finished the homework moderately quickly, only half paying attention to what you were doing. The bell for dinner rang soon after that, and you got up and took off the RAD jacket you had yet to take off and put on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering to take off the turquoise turtleneck that went under the uniform.

Dinner was as eventful as normal, all the boys seemed too caught up in their own problems to notice you being quieter than normal, not that you were complaining. You waited until everyone was finished before leaving the table, offering to wash the dishes.

“Less work for me,” was all Belphie said when you told him you would take over his chore, and he left the room.

You were cleaning up the dishes, scrubbing away at a pan when you felt two arms around your waist.

“Are you doing alright, baby?” You heard Lucifer ask.

“Of course, why?”

“I just noticed you being more quiet than normal. You can talk to me, you know that right, [Y/N]?”

“Of course, I’m just tired. There’s nothing else.”

“Nothing? So no demon had been bothering you? If so, you need to tell me so I can tell Diavolo. Nothing can go wrong with this program, not even that.”

Of course, he wasn’t just concerned about you. It could never be just about you, he didn’t care about you, he cared about Diavolo’s program. Nothing else. He only cared about Diavolo, which you should have warned yourself about the first time you even had an inkling about that being the case.

“No, nothing. The demons here have been fine. I just need some more sleep,” you told him, and he just nodded and took his arms off of you.

“Alright, well, be sure to get to bed soon,” you saw mental glint in the suds of the sink, a long blade peaking through. “Maybe you could spend some time with Belphegor to make you tired.”

You nodded.

“Maybe I should try that.”

Lucifer left with nothing else, and you reached for the knife, your palm gripping the blade, it cutting into your skin. You didn’t care, though.

How easily you could just plunge this knife into your chest, how quickly all the pain you felt would be over.

You positioned the tip of the blade between your breasts, digging it in slightly, feeling a trickle of blood run down your chest and stomach, before plunging it in all the way.

———

It was peaceful. You only saw white, that was all that was surrounding you. This wasn’t Heaven or Hell, or the Devildom. There was nothing.

“Hello?” You call out to the void. Nothing responded. You felt a twist in your gut, and an off sensation that you hadn’t felt in awhile. Almost the.. thrive to live? The need to continue breathing, it suddenly took you over, out of nowhere.

The feeling that now isn’t your time to die washed over you, and you refused to just believe that this was all there was for you. You wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to live, you wanted to-

—————

You open your eyes again, but immediately shut them. A loud pulsing noise came from beside you, and you cringed away from it. Why was it so loud? You slowly opened your eyes again, them adjusting to the brightness.

There was no one around you, but you could hear two voices talking, and when you looked out into the hallway, Lucifer and Diavolo were standing there, talking in a hushed voice, almost as if trying not to wake you up.

A feeling of dread came over you, and that need to survive was quickly stifled out. You felt the need to cry, so you did just that. Quietly, tears started to stream down your face as you laid down as far as you could.

God, what a mess you had probably made. How could you be so selfish? Who found your body? Thinking back on it, it was probably Beel, the most innocent out of all of them, how could you have done that to him?

Selfish, selfish, that’s all you are. How could you have done that and not even batted an eye about the repercussions? All you think about is yourself, selfish, selfish, selfish-

“[Y/N]?” You heard a gentle voice. You looked over to the doorway and Lucifer stood there. He took off his coat, leaving him in only a black shirt and pants. You didn’t respond. “How are you feeling?”

“I can’t feel the wound yet, so, pretty good,” you tried to joke with him.

“Don’t, don’t do that. Baby, why didn’t you tell me, tell someone? We could have gotten you medicine, allowed you to see your therapist, or a therapist.”

“I didn’t want to be more of a burden than I already was. But now, I guess I made that worse right? I’m sorry. I hoped it would work,” you tell him, and he just furrows his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve probably ruined the program, right? I’m sorry. I was being selfish, I didn’t take into consideration what me trying to commit suicide would do.”

“[Y/N]..” Lucifer started, but trailed off before hugging you, almost ripping you off of the bed. “I’m sorry if I made you feel that your only purpose in the Devildom was to be an exchange student for Diavolo. I know I talk about it a lot, and I’m sorry about that.

“I’m not going to try to come up with excuses as to why I do that, but you better know this right now: you are more than just an exchange student. To me, to my brothers, even to Diavolo. You’re more than that. I love you, and it hurts to see you think of yourself as less than someone worthy of being here.

“I know you’re not going to get better by telling you this, I know that it could take a long time to get better, to make sure you're in a safe place mentally. But I want you to also know that I will be right here, by your side, while you get the help you need.”

You had started crying halfway through his speech. You wrapped your tube-infested arms around him also, deeply breathing in the scent of him that you had missed so much.

“I want to get better, please help me. I’m tired of feeling like this again.”

“Of course, [Y/N]. First thing we’ll do is get you back on your meds and then schedule a therapy appointment, okay? You’re also put under suicide watch, so I’ll be staying with you until you’re granted freedom from that.”

“Thank you, Luci.”

“Of course, [Y/N]. I love you.”

————

This was written by me in no way trying to romanticize mental illnesses. I try to write what I feel would help me in the moment. I completely understand that mental illnesses don’t just ‘disappear’ when you’ve figured out that someone loves you or someone helps you once- that’s why I don’t write what happens after in most cases. If you are struggling, please reach out to anyone you trust, or call a hotline.

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Shackled

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 7 Prompt - Collared

Peter Parker had been missing for one full week and Ned was losing his mind.

Words: 2502, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Ned Leeds

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds

TW: Angst

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Ned honey?” His mom said, knocking on the frame of his cracked open door and poking her head in. Her expression was as careful and neutral as it had been for the last week – ever since Peter had gone missing on his walk to school.

Ned had spent most of the morning between classes trying to text Peter (seriously – it was just super rude to not be in school and not tell your friends. Who did that?) before both he and MJ had been called to the office. Principal Morita was both gentle and firm as he questioned them about Peter’s possible whereabouts and ‘were they covering for him? No one was in trouble they just needed to know’. May hadn’t called Peter in sick and had no idea where he might be so, naturally, they assumed his best friends might have some clue. Ever since he had gotten his powers Peter had been pretty flaky but, so far, he had always at least sent some sort of message to someone if he had Spider Business.

May, more frantic now, had tried to alert the police but had been shot down since Peter had been missing less than twenty-four hours and was what they would classify as ‘troubled’ with his absence record and disciplinary record at school. Tony Stark, who had been May’s next call, had gone into full panic-helicopter-mentor mode and had hacked into cameras all over the city to try and find out what he could. Unfortunately, the footage seemed to have been wiped leaving them with no leads other than Peter’s discarded book bag and cellphone left in an alley not far from the school.

Finding this had finally spurred the police into motion and had prompted an Amber Alert and search parties made up of May’s co-workers and Peter’s friends. Tony was surveying things via the Iron Legion while he spent most of his time in his workshop in the Tower; using FRIDAY and probably lots of illegal methods to try and track Peter down.

Ned had been helping May and MJ just about everyday after school since to hang up flyers and ask around to see if anyone had seen Peter but, so far, no luck. His parents had been doing what they could to help as well but Ned knew they could see him cracking under the pressure and worry.

They had, in fact, pulled him into a conversation the night before to tell him they wanted him to talk to a therapist, that finding someone missing after the first fourth-eight hours was really hard and they wanted to do what they could to prepare him for all eventualities and that they would always be there for him no matter what.

Ned liked to think he was a pretty chill and easy-going guy for the most part so he won’t say that he’s proud of how he handled that conversation. At least his parents didn’t get too upset when he skipped school with MJ to keep looking that day.

“Hmm?” Ned asked, not bothering to look up from his computer where he was pretending to write his English essay but seeing his mom’s cautious expression in his peripheral vision anyway. He didn’t like that she looked at him like he was made of glass that might shatter at any given moment.

“Your father and I are going to go grab some dinner and maybe see a movie. Want to come with us?” She sounded so hopeful and a small, angry part of Ned hated how normal they were trying to make things. Didn’t they understand that his best friend since kindergarten, his only friend other than MJ, was missing and could be… could be…

“No thanks,” he said instead, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible and pretending not to see the hurt look on his mom’s face when he turned down her offer.

“Okay,” she said, her tone soft with just the barest edge of disapproval. He was just glad that she didn’t try to force him into going but he had a feeling that he was due for another ‘family chat’ soon. “Text me if you want us to bring you something back.”

“Thanks,” Ned mumbled, still not looking up even when his mom let out a sad sigh and left, pulling his door back closed. Ned sniffed and wiped his tired eyes, he had a headache that was brewing and he wanted nothing more than to sleep but he couldn’t. If it was him missing he knew that Peter wouldn’t take any breaks looking for him so Ned couldn’t either. They had to find him.

Hearing the front door shut, Ned closed out of his essay and pulled back up Karen’s systems, still on his computer from the last time he and Peter had hacked into the Spider Suit, and went over the data she had managed to extract from Mr. Stark’s AI, FRIDAY without him knowing or, more likely, without him trying to stop them from taking the info for themselves. It was Tony Stark after all. The data itself was a disappointingly small amount and nothing that really helped point him in any kind of definitive direction. His phone buzzed against the desk, pulling Ned back.

From: MJ

Anything?

Ned rubbed his eyes again, little lights dancing over his vision at the pressure and typed out a quick ‘No’ in response before tossing his phone to the side. Something had to turn up eventually. He just knew it would.

As if summoned, taps sounded on his window and Ned froze, not daring to hope. He waited and the taps sounded again, more incessantly this time, and Ned jumped up from his desk – banging his knee in the process and nearly falling – but making it to the window to unlock it and throw it open. It couldn’t be…

After a week of being missing, Peter fell through to land roughly on the hard wood flooring of Ned’s room.

“Peter,” Ned said, breathless and voice full of emotion as tears pricked his eyes, reaching out a hand to help Peter up and then backing away when his friend flinched violently away from him.

“Sorry,” Peter said, his voice rough as he forced himself to his feet with a disingenuous smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry.”

Ned narrowed his eyes in concern. Peter was pale, his face thinner than it had been the last time Ned had seen him. He was wearing dirty sweat pants and a shirt that may have been white in a previous lifetime but was now yellowed and dirty. His clothing was covered in rips and tears, bloody skin in various stages of healing peaking through and staining his clothes. His fingers were twitching in time with the tic in his left eyebrow and his eyes were shifting all over the place like he was looking for something.

Worst of all had to be the half broken metal collar with wires poking out around his neck and the clear electrical burns surrounding it.

“We need to call May,” Ned said, rushing to his phone. “We need to call Mr. Stark.”

“No!” Peter said, limping quickly across the room to block Ned from his phone. The hand that touched his was cold and clammy with sweat and Peter was quick to remove it once he realized he was touching Ned. “They can’t see me like this, especially May. You have to help me,” he pleaded.

“Peter,” Ned said sadly as he took in how broken and tired his friend looked. “You need to go to the hospital – I’m not a doctor! I can’t fix all of… this!” He exclaimed, gesturing to all of Peter with an exaggerated movement.

Peter flinched again and crossed his arms across his abdomen, hunching in on himself. “I know,” he said, voice rough and broken. “I know but I don’t want them to see… I don’t…” he made an abortive movement to gesture at the collar. “I almost got it off but I couldn’t… please help.”

“You promise to let me call May and Tony right after?” Ned asked, slowly reaching out to rest his hand on Peter’s shoulder. He wanted to pull him into a hug but he figured that wouldn’t go over too well just yet. Peter nodded hurriedly, some of the tension leaking out of him with Ned’s agreement, and he let himself sink ungracefully to the floor. “Why didn’t you just break it?”

“It uh,” Peter said, squeezing his eyes closed and wetting his lips. “It suppresses my powers.”

“Whoa,” Ned muttered, sitting next to Peter and surveying the collar more closely. Peter twitched his chin down and hunched his shoulders again and Ned just waited for him to relax enough for Ned to get a closer look. The collar was a thick and heavy dull metal and was seated tight enough around Peter’s throat to dig into his skin and chafe; Ned winced sympathetically. The red light on the front was blinking dimly, poking out from a thick black box that Peter had clearly torn into at some point. Peter was uncharacteristically quiet while Ned stared but every muscle in his body was tensed like he was ready to run if necessary. “Can I hug you?” Ned blurted out earnestly making Peter jump a little in surprise.

“I… um you… what?” He asked leaning back so he could look at Ned more fully.

“You look like you need a hug,” Ned told him, reaching his arms up but taking care not to touch Peter. “So can I hug you?”

The nod Peter gave him was wobbly and wooden but, the second Ned wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in, Peter went limp, mashing his face into Ned’s shoulder before letting out a quiet and broken little sob. Peter’s own arms were shaking as they wrapped back around Ned, crying harder and wetting the front of Ned’s shirt with tears.

Ned could feel his heart breaking in his chest but that was overshadowed by a feeling of anger so strong that it nearly turned his vision red. Peter had been his best friend since they were kids. Peter had always been there for him no matter what. Whoever had dared to do this… well Ned didn’t pity what was going to happen to them. In lieu of letting out his frustrations, Ned just pulled Peter in tighter, shushing him and carefully patting his back.

“Sorry,” Peter whispered a few minutes later when he pulled back, using trembling hands to wipe his reddened eyes and chapped cheeks free of tears. “I didn’t mean to break down like that on you,” he said with a humorless laugh.

“Peter…” Ned wanted to tell Peter that he could always break down around Ned if he needed to. Peter was his brother in all but blood – Ned would always be there for him – but Peter shook his head violently to stop him, reaching up to let blood stained fingers brush the collar – his nails ragged and torn down to the quick.

“Please,” he begged, looking like he was barely keeping it together and Ned nodded.

“Okay Pete. I’ll look at it,” Ned reassured, moving his hands slowly up to touch the skin-warmed metal around his friend’s throat. “Does this have a tracker in it? A stun feature?” He tried to keep it professional but Peter still grimaced at the questions.

“I disabled the tracker and the electricity I think,” Peter said. “I just can’t see the mechanism to release it and I just… I need it off. I can’t…” his breathing sped up and Ned gripped his shoulder tightly in solidarity.

“It’ll be okay,” Ned said again, cautiously sorting through the loose wires to look into the black box just under Peter’s chin. “When you said this suppressed your powers did you mean all of them?”

Peter gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully against the metal as he gave a tiny nod. “All of them,” he confirmed.

“What about your hearing?” Ned pressed, pulling his hands back from the locking mechanism of the collar. Peter frowned at him before paling further at the realization.

“Oh,” he said, reaching both hands up to grip the collar. “My hearing…”

“If I take it off,” Ned cautioned, “and all your senses come back at once…”

“That would be bad,” Peter confirmed. “It would be very bad.”

“I know you don’t want me to,” Ned started, ignoring the way that Peter was shaking his head. “But I really think we should call May and Mr. Stark. They’re worried about you and Mr. Stark has that sensory deprivation room for your overloads.”

“I can’t do that to May,” Peter said firmly. “I already went and got myself kidnapped I can’t put her through this.” His voice was more steady than it had been since he had arrived and Ned felt like rolling his eyes at Peter’s typical self-flagellation.

“Happy then,” Ned suggested, desperate. Peter bit his lip, considering for a second, before nodding his consent prompting Ned to leap for his phone, dialing Happy before Peter could stop him.

“Look Leeds,” Happy grumbled into the phone, the background noise muffling his voice slightly. “I already told you – we’ll call when we know something so just-,”

“Peter’s here,” Ned blurted out, sitting back down next to his friend and pulling him into a half hug that Peter fell into willingly, curling up into Ned’s side. “He’s here. “Whoever had him put this… they… look he doesn’t want May to see him until he’s fixed up some so can you just come get us?” Ned asked following it up with a ‘Please’ as an afterthought.

“The kid’s with you?” Happy asked, sounding like he was running. “Put him on the phone.”

“He wants to talk to you,” Ned said, offering Peter the phone which he, reluctantly, took.

“Hey Happy,” Peter tried for chipper but fell spectacularly short and Ned winced a little. “I’m okay they just put… look I don’t want May to see me like… to see… can you just come get me please?” Peter sounded teary again and Ned plucked the phone from his hand to put back to his own ear.

“You’re coming right?”

“On my way,” Happy confirmed. “Give me eight minutes.” And with that he hung up the phone leaving Ned to drop it into his lap.

“I should probably text MJ,” he told Peter, not making any effort to move. “She’ll be pissed if she’s the last to know,” he joked and Peter snorted.

“Probably,” he agreed, letting his eyes slip closed and his breathing even out.

He needed to text MJ, call his mom and let her know Peter was back and that he was going to visit, pull Peter out into the living room to wait for Happy. But, Ned decided as Peter gripped Ned’s hoodie a little tighter, it could wait for just a few more minutes.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump17 #Prompt: Collared #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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