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itgirlification · 3 years

Text

supermodel | jjk

the last three months have been hell for you, but Jungkook seemed to be living his best life.

pairing: ex-bf!jk x thick!reader

warnings: explicit mentions of body image and insecurities, infidelity, anal sex, oral (male receive), foul language (kinda), etc.

now playing: supermodel by sza

part two part three

Exactly three months ago, your and Jungkook’s 2 years relationship officially ended. Unofficially, it ended about 5 months ago. And for about one month now, Jungkook’s been seeing someone else.

Your heart and mind told you not to do it but you couldn’t help calculating. Three months ago, you were still dating, two months later, he started dating someone else. That must mean he’s known her for a while. Did he cheat on you with her? Well, it’s not like it matters now anyway, does it?

Her name was Yuki, an undeniable Japanese beauty. You were still in college, studying music and she was a famous model who appeared in internationally known magazines. You assumed she met Jungkook during a photoshoot since he was a professional photographer who often worked for companies like Vogue and Playboy. You couldn’t help but compare yourself to her.

It wasn’t the fact that he moved on so quickly that hurt you the most. It was the fact that he knew all about your low self-esteem and how you lack confidence. Especially about your body. And he still went and dated a model, of all professions in the world. He was definitely over you.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he did it on purpose. But thankfully, you knew better, he looked too happy for that to be even considered. He forgot about you.

You’re making yourself sadder by remembering all the times he assured you you were beautiful and your body was nothing to be ashamed of. The times he let his fingertips run over the lines of your stretch marks, whispering in your ear how much he loved them and how they reminded him of Tiger stripes. The times he caressed your jiggly thighs and told you how sexy he thought they were.

Then your mind would drift back to the phone in your hand, the Instagram page of Yuki Sakurai opened, careful not to accidentally like anything and expose yourself. Not that she’d notice anyway, she had 3.7 million followers, while you had a private one with 500 followers and no posts, and she gets around 300 to 700 thousand likes on each post, depending on whether she posts random photos or pretty pictures of herself. Or newly, your ex-boyfriend, Jungkook. Oh, how crazy everybody goes whenever she posts him. People love them together. You couldn’t blame them. Two attractive people? Of course, they’re gonna look great together.

Fucking great.

That the end of your relationship with Jungkook would look like this was semi-predictable from the beginning. He did admit to you that he never thought he’d date someone that looked like you when you first dated. And your heart broke a little. But he also made up for it in those two years, it was a beautiful relationship nonetheless.

While you weren’t exactly his ‘ideal’ type, he was definitely yours. You always heard from other women ‘when in a relationship, the man always has to love the woman more than she loves him. Otherwise, it won’t work.’ You never really got the saying until your breakup with Jungkook happened. It was the fact that you clearly loved Jungkook more than he loved you that lead to this.

“Oh my goodness!”, your roommate, Jane, dramatically exclaimed. “Will you stop feeling bad for yourself and do something? That’s not what hot girls do, sis.”

Jane was a lovely girl with a not so lovely temper. She always means well and you got along perfectly as soon as you met. Which was around 3 and a half years ago.

She looked over your shoulder to see what you were looking at. You obviously didn’t want her to see you snooping around your ex-boyfriend’s current girlfriend’s Instagram but it was too late.

“Seriously, yn?”, she took your phone in her hand and threw it on the bed. “Let’s go somewhere, you can’t do this to yourself anymore. I’m not letting you.”

Jane was clearly worried about you at this point. The only thing you did these last few weeks was eating, shower, cry, sleep and miss a whole bunch of classes. This wasn’t good at all.

“Where?”, your question was short.

“To the mall? Or the nail studio? Anything that’ll get you out of this fucking dormitory.”, Jane sighed, pulling the blanket off of you, making you whine a little. “C’mon, go put on some cute outfit and we’ll go.”

You felt bad since she was trying hard to make you feel better. But it didn’t really work.

You nodded, standing up from the bed, nonetheless. You picked out a cute two-piece dress, that brought back blurred memories of the time you went on a date with Jungkook, wearing the same two-piece. Bet Yuki would look cuter in this...

‘Shut your petty ass up, yn. It’s embarrassing, the way you’re stuck on a taken guy who wants nothing to do with you’

You wish you could change the way you think, even if it’s just for an hour or two. You wish you would stop imagining Jungkook judging you when he saw you naked or when you told him that you wished you could cut off some of your fat with a pair of scissors.

You were beyond ashamed of yourself. Why wasn’t it easy for you to just stay by yourself? why were you so desperately in need of Jungkook by your side to the point where you’d lock yourself in your room for a month just because he isn’t there?

You needed Jungkook. You became so attached to him in those two years, because you always saw him as a permanent, a forever. Not just a temporary, not just a distant memory. You already saw him as the father of your children, as the man you’re gonna marry.

You were so blinded by the fact that you had him, that you forgot you could lose him anytime.

“I’m done, let’s go.”, unenthusiastically, you announced to Jane, who was already waiting for you.

“Let’s get the fuck outta here!”, In contrast to your spirit, hers seemed to be all roses and daisies. “Lord knows you need it...”

__________

“Look at this cute ass skirt, girl”, Jane pointed at a chic, wine mini skirt she was holding. “You know, when I saw it back there I wanted to have it, but it’d look so much better on you”

You took a few seconds to admire Jane’s beauty. She was about 3 cm taller than you, had a great posture, and almond, dark brown eyes that suited her dark skin tone perfectly. Her body leaned more towards the slimmer side.

“Shut up! No, it would not”, you let out a small giggle. “It would look gorgeous on you, buy it.”

She smiled a little at your laughs. She was happy to see you at least a little cheerful again. “Yeah, but I think it’d look better on you. I’m entitled to my own opinion, am I not?”

You knew this debate was gonna go back and forth, because of her stubbornness. “Let’s both buy the skirt.”

You ended up doing so, added by a bunch of bags full of clothing. This may’ve turned into your new coping mechanism. Who needed therapy when you can go on a shopping spree?

Two hours were spent in boutiques and clothing stores and Jane decided she was tired, wanting to visit the local spa.

“No, seriously, these Riverdale seasons just keep on getting worse and worse. Netflix needs to step up their game ASAP”, Jane ranted, making you laugh at how serious she takes it. “It’s getting embarrassing. I’m being for real.”

The two of you were sitting in the whirlpool at the spa, relaxing your whole bodies a little.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, I don’t watch these new Netflix shows anyways. Been stuck on the vampire diaries for the last 7 years”, you chuckled, knowing you hated trying new things. “Can you pass me one of those magazines?”

Jane nodded, grabbing a random one from the table next to her and handed it to you, without looking at it.

The cover of it caught your eyes immediately. How could it not, when your ex’s new girl looks absolutely dazzling on the front page of it.

‘Supermodel Yuki Sakurai talks summer fashion tips, struggle with self-love and most importantly, her hot, new boyfriend the media is going crazy over’ was the headline of the Harper’s Bazaar Magazine cover.

You felt your stomach getting sick and your breath getting heavier, but you still flipped the pages until you found the one with her interview. You began reading it, skipping the boring parts.

‘Int: so, we see you have a new boyfriend. Tell us, how did you guys meet?

Yuki: Yeah, he’s an amazing guy. We actually met about six or five months ago at one of my photoshoots, since he’s a photographer and we exchanged numbers and stuff, and then we made it official mid last month.’

About six or five months ago? You were with him back then, but her answer was too unclear to find out if he cheated or not.

“Woah, yn, you okay?”

You entirely forgot about the fact that you were with Jane, let alone somewhere other than your bed.

Before you could react, Jane snatched the magazine out of your hand.

“You really can’t escape them, huh?”, She sighs, taking you in her arm. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. In a few months, you’re gonna look back to this and think wow I really was stuck on a guy who’s scared of microwaves and cried like a bitch when Iron Man died.”

You laughed, punching her arm playfully. “You know, I actually love these things about him. Shows his sensitivity and the way he perceives things.”

Jane looked at you as if she didn’t believe you were actually saying that stuff. “Girl, you’re overanalyzing this. Let’s just throw this shit in the trash, okay?”

She put the magazine aside.

“I just don't know what I did wrong.”, You murmured. “I know we weren't the best, but we didn't even fight that much. We could’ve talked it through.”

Jane pursed her lips and cooed. “You know, relationships are complicated sometimes. The reason why he broke up, to begin with, is probably not your fault.”

“Well, what if it is? I mean what if I was too fat or too ugly for him?”, you asked. “If he wanted a skinny girl so bad, I could’ve lost weight for him, I don’t get it.”

Jane looked at you like you lost your mind entirely. “I can’t believe you just said that! Even if that was the reason, which it wasn’t, you shouldn’t make yourself suffer because of it. That’s his loss. You’re beyond gorgeous and you have an amazing body.”

“You’re just saying that.”, tears slowly started coming up in your eyes. “But the thing is Jungkook knows all about my insecurities. Why would he do that to me? I know he knows that I’m still not over him.”

You usually didn’t like crying in front of other people, but you didn’t really care at the moment, besides that was Jane. You trusted her with your life.

“Girl, men are trash, I can’t believe you’re crying over one right now, seriously.”, she wiped your tears and held your face between her hands. “You know, honestly, I’ve read so many articles about how models actually hate themselves and have like the lowest self-esteem so in conclusion, no matter how miserable you are, his new girl is even more miserable.”

You knew Jane didn’t mean it in a harmful way, but it sounded harsher than needed. “I don’t hate her, she probably doesn’t even know about me. I’m just really insecure. He upgraded from me. He’s dating a whole model now.”

The situation just felt like a deja vu of these last few weeks laying in your bed, even though you were at the spa with your friend. You were supposed to have fun, yet you didn’t feel like having any.

“Why would you feel insecure when all you’ve seen of her are Instagram posts and red carpet pictures? She’s supposed to look beautiful, it’s her job.”

To a certain extent, Jane was right, but that didn’t really help your situation, you still felt bad about yourself. You stayed silent.

“C’mon, this isn’t fun anymore. Let’s leave.”, Jane mumbled.

_______

it’s been two days since the incident at the spa and you felt a little bit better now.

Those days were spent reading the same three book series you’ve read your entire life, overthinking, hot Cheetos, Indian takeout, and Netflix. It really wasn’t as miserable as it sounded.

You were just taking a little rest before term break ends and you have to go back to the shithole college again.

Jane was using the time until college starts again, but in different ways than you were. She was planning on going to some frat party in an hour and forget about the world’ for a minute. Or till 4 in the morning, where she will most likely drunk call you and ask you for a ride back to the dorms, because the friends she went to the party with were shit-faced as well and were in no way capable of driving anywhere without the cops stopping them.

Going out partying on a Friday night was a Jane tradition. In the past, you’d sometimes go with her, but you mostly spent your time out with Jungkook doing something more fun than partying could ever be. Now you can’t do that anymore, but laying in bed is more ideal than a party for you at the moment.

“How do I look?”, Jane twirled around to show off her black cocktail dress. She looked beautiful.

“You look beautiful.”, you responded to her question. “Are you leaving now?”

“Hm”, she said, to which you nodded. “You sure you don’t wanna come with me? It’s gonna be really fun.”

You shook your head no.

“Alright”, she shrugged, making her way out of your bedroom. “But I told you, it’s gonna be fun.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “I’ll stay here, I have shit to do.”

“Yeah, right, like binge-watching the vampire diaries and taking 5-hour naps”, she said in a sarcastic tone. “Anyway, bye-bye, Vic’s already waiting for me in the car.”

Victoria was perhaps one of the most obnoxious people you know, yet she was too much of a nice person for you to talk shit about her. The voice of your intrusive thoughts couldn’t help but to, though.

“Alright, bye, take care and say hi to Vic from me.”

After Jane left, an hour went by like it was just a couple of minutes. You were starting to get real bored and decided to watch some regular tv in hopes to find something you enjoy. You ended up not finding anything fun, but you still watched it, because you didn’t have anything else to do.

A few moments later, the doorbell rang and you were suddenly worried. Either this is a serial killer or Jane forgot something.

But to your surprise, it was neither, but it was none other than

“Jungkook?”, truly, those were the only words you were able to mutter out at your shocked state. “What are you do-“

At the speed of light, you were interrupted by your ex-boyfriend pressing his lips to yours. He didn’t say a word.

You weren’t expecting him. Not knowing how you were supposed to feel at the moment, you just let it happen. You were sure your mental state couldn’t get any worse than that, no matter how this will affect you in the end.

“Is Jane home?”, for the first time in 3 months, you’re hearing his silky voice again.

Jungkook knew Jane always had some type of special hatred for him with her killing stares and her bitter comments. You didn’t notice either though.

He also knew she must hate him even more after your breakup. Or maybe she liked him more now since she was able to get rid of him without killing anyone.

“No”, your answer was short and it made a weight fall from Jungkook’s shoulders before he continued kissing you.

It wasn’t anything you haven’t done before, yet it felt like it’s been ages since it last happened. Your mind drifted to the thought of Jungkook and his model girlfriend. You were asking yourself what their sex life was like, if she was tighter than you or if she had stretch marks and scars.

Jungkook’s lips were moving south, giving your neck wet kisses, while you were wondering why he broke up with his model girlfriend. Or if he even did. You felt selfish for not caring.

Removing your clothes one by one, you were left in your underwear, while Jungkook only had his boxers on.

This body was yours. You knew it inside out. Where he liked to get touched and where he preferred not to. You knew him better than anyone else. You were sure.

You already moved to your bedroom, since Jungkook effortlessly carried you there. You were sat on his lap, facing him and your hands were in his messy hair. His hands were around your waist, he was slightly smiling into the kiss, as you started grinding on him. He loved how easy it was for him to turn you on. You were still his.

Cutting off the kiss, he looked you in the eyes, while his hand was on your cheek. “Say aah.”, he said.

You widened your mouth obediently, which was followed by him collecting as much saliva as he could in his mouth and spitting it into your mouth.

“Swallow.”, demanding, he spit on your face, his eyes become darker with every passing moment. You did as he said.

You looked at him with big eyes. He knew you loved it. You’ve always had a thing for him degrading and humiliating you during sex.

He started grinding on you almost desperately. You knew exactly what he wanted.

Getting out of his grip, you dropped to your knees and freed his hard dick from his drawers. You reached for it and started pumping it, and licking it. Your spit was leaking down his dick as you used it for lubrication. Then you started sucking on it, just the way you used to.

Jungkook’s groans and satisfied sighs were enough to make you even wetter than before. You enjoyed giving more than receiving.

Your mouth was wet and warm around him, giving him a feeling of familiarity. You lick over the tip a few times, then proceed to fully take him into your mouth.

The bulge in your throat could be seen and the way your eyes were tearing up a little wasn’t bothering you at all. You loved giving.

Jungkook started thrusting in and out of your warm, welcoming mouth, his tip hitting the back of your throat multiple times.

“Fuck”, a throaty moan left Jungkook’s mouth, giving you hints that he was about to cum. And he did, releasing in your mouth before you swallowed it. “Shit, baby, that was so good.”

You felt your face heat up and a sheepish smile made its way to your face. Your throat was sore.

The two of you were on the bed again. To you, it felt like it was the times before your breakup again, when you’d purposely start an argument just for the makeup sex because Jungkook wasn’t giving you any anymore. It was like sex was the only thing to look forward to.

You felt attached to Jungkook to a point where it was dangerous. You weren’t okay when he wasn’t around. He affected every part of your life and God knew it wasn’t always a positive thing. Maybe it was the fact that he took your virginity. Maybe because he was your first boyfriend, the first guy that made you believe you were worthy of love and that someone was actually capable of loving you. One thing you knew was Jungkook had an expansive influence on your life.

While you were practically drowning in your own thoughts, Jungkook was busy taking off your underwear.

“You okay?”, Jungkook calmly asked you, looking at your riddled face.

“Huh? Yeah, I’m okay.”, you sounded distracted, Jungkook wasn’t sure about asking you what it is though. He didn’t feel like getting personal.

So he shrugged it off and started kissing you again, his dick was unsurprisingly hard again as he played with your tits. He drew lines over the stretch marks of your thighs and kissed them.

“Can I fuck your ass?”, Jungkook’s raspy, tired-sounding voice casually asked, to which you quickly nodded, knowing that Jungkook’s favorite position had always been anal. He was massaging and gripping your ass firmly.

“This is gonna hurt at first, but I promise it gets better.”, He warned calmly into your ear, while putting some lube on his dick and just went right into your ass, slowly thrusting so you don’t feel as much pain.

He was right, it did hurt a lot when he first put it in, but the pain just changed into pleasure in a matter of time and his slow-paced thrusts helped with the adjustment.

“Fuck, I missed this ass”, he practically growled into your ear, as he kept on thrusting in and out, steadily gripping your wide hips with his big, veiny hands. “It just doesn’t feel right when I’m inside her ass.”

You knew your confidence shouldn’t rely on Jungkook bringing his girlfriend down, but you couldn’t help but feel good about your body when he said that. It’s been a while since you felt even a tiny spark of confidence. You weren’t so fond of him mentioning her while he was inside of you.

Your soft moans rang through the whole room like sirens, while he watched your ass jiggle against his pelvis, thrusting in and out faster every second. He missed this.

You had always thought you were indecisive, but you knew exactly what you wanted. You just couldn’t have that, so you’d eventually have to settle for less.

Jungkook wasn’t to blame for it, you just couldn’t concede your shortcomings. The movie’s villain wasn’t always the real villain.

Your hands traveled to your pussy to make sure you’d orgasm as well, when you heard Jungkook’s breathing getting heavier and his thrusts getting gentler than before, indicating that he was gonna cum soon. You were certain he could make you cum with just anal, but you wanted to cum with him.

With furrowed eyebrows and drops of sweat dripping down his body, Jungkook looked down at your arched back. The whole scene was sticky, especially when Jungkook presses his upper body to your back, whispering sweet nothings into your ear and kissing the spot.

It was kinda odd, having sex with your ex-boyfriend you were crying over just a day ago. There was a certain intensity to it though. Like your long-lasting nostalgia was finally fulfilled.

You’ve realized you couldn’t imagine yourself being intimate with anybody else. Jungkook already knew your body, how it looked without the material protecting it, the strawberry skin, the slightly sagging breasts you swore you’d surgically remove once you had the chance to but didn’t. He knew where you liked being touched, he was the first one to even touch you in those places.

You were unsure what you’d do with yourself when he leaves.

Jungkook’s thrusts slowly started stopping and you too felt the familiar sensation in your stomach.

Suddenly, you two were nothing but desire, fear, and pleasure. And faster than you could process, you came together.

For minutes after your orgasm, you were just laying on the bed, thoughtless. Maybe a little regretful. Not you, but him.

You weren’t facing each other, but you could hear each other’s breathing. Your stomach was filled with something you’d describe as post-sex melancholia.

All of a sudden, Jungkook stood up from the bed, startling your resting self a little, but you decided to keep quiet, wanting to see what he was going to do.

He made his way to the door to leave what he thought was your sleeping body laying there. You couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Where are you going?”, your soft voice suddenly rang in his ears. “Don’t you wanna stay?”

He didn’t know how exactly to tell you. You’ve always been a gullible little girl, you were the type of girl to think fucking equals love. Little did you know that wasn’t the case at all.

“Yn.... you know I can’t”, Jungkook responded, you knew it wasn’t gonna be good when he said your name like that. “I got a girl at home and I don’t wanna mess shit up with her.”

There it was. Your suspicion was corroborated. He was still going out with the model and you were a certified home wrecker. Great.

You physically felt your heart breaking. “Bu- but why are you here then?”

You were incapable of being mad at him at the moment. It was your fault for letting him in, again. After breaking your trust and your heart.

“This was a mistake”, he declared, not looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry, yn...”

He’s moved past your room now, already at the exit of your dormitory. He was about to leave.

“You already ruined shit with her when you came here and fucked me.”, your voice was small, but your words were heard.

Without looking back, he left.

And you went back to your room, standing in the middle of it for a minute in silence before your brain fully processed what had happened and your tears started pouring.

743 notes · View notes

haztory · 3 years

Note

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today!

warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option.

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size.

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable.

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid—

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love.

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation.

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness.

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it—

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you.

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you.

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out.

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face.

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath.

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap.

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before.

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #nanami kento fluff #nanami fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #my fics #my writing #my writing event #follower event

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idontknowmyownmind · 3 years

Note

Hey so I know you technically don't take requests but I had kind of an idea for you and I know you're probably not doing mammon stuff right now but maybe something to get to later So here's the idea mammon Makes a human friend because they're human diaovlo is happy to let them live in the house of lamination But let's say this human friend starts doing all the things that the bros used to do with mammon and the brothers start getting jealous of this friend I don't know why but this has been heavy on my mind I've loved this idea

Oh! That's a good idea!!! I, myself, also have some thoughts about Mammon having human friends because if I remember correctly, I've read his wiki page and it mentions that he often goes to the human realm more than his brothers. So, I think it's not so surprising if he ends up with some human as a friend.

Let's see what I can get for this wonderful idea.

• Mammon often went to the human realm for his schemes or to make profit.

• He accidently and unwillingly made friends with a random stranger he somehow clicked with.

• The brothers know about it, but they don't think any of it because they think their friendship is a kind of friendship with benefits (not in a sexual way!!).

• Let's say that the human is a straightforward person and will not hesitate to call Mammon on his bullshits but also stand by him. They are a prospective person and know what needs to be said, not say what they want to hear (unless the situation calls for it). They're blunt and most often appeared to be rude. They give and show their love in a mean way but perfectly delivered.

• That's the reason Mammon seemed to be attracted to them and unconsciously seek their comfort.

• When Diavolo found out about this, Lucifer accidently let it slip. He is incredibly happy because it's proof that demons and humans can be friends. You know that Diavolo is a man with many secrets.

• So it's a big surprise when one day this friend is suddenly being summoned to Devildom.

• The brothers who know a little about Mammon's human friend are curious about how they are because when they manage to make Mammon talk about them, which proves to be really difficult, he talks highly and fondly about them. Every time the brothers hear his tone when he talks about them, it brings an unpleasant feeling for them.

• The first few days went by normally, well as normal as it can be. But the brothers started to notice things. The human get along with the brothers just fine and they're mostly chill.

• Like predicted, they spent most, if not all, their time with Mammon in his or their room, or out somewhere.

• When they're together, they're a chaotic natural duo who can be chill if they want.

• It started with how they noticed how the human blatantly steering Mammon away if they saw the brothers started to make fun of him outside the house (R.A.D or anywhere where they can take Mammon away).

• Distract him from his brothers and their way makes it hard for the brothers to interfere.

• When they accuse him for things, the human will make snarky and sharp comments in an innocent manner. Unless Mammon really did the thing, they will also call him on his bullshit. Their comments sometimes stuck in their mind and heart.

• (HC) Mammon is a good cook. But it's very rare for him to cook because he is too lazy for it. His cooking is the brothers favourite because it tastes wonderful (since he makes it with love).

• So imagine their surprise when they found Mammon cooking in the kitchen when they arrived downstairs to eat.

• (HC) They have schedules on who will cook for the day but mostly it was their cook.

• They think he cooks for them despite it's too early for breakfast. They tried to act casually while sitting at the dining table.

• Beel went to him to look at what he cooked and wanted a taste (Mammon never refused to give him any even though he complained). To his surprise, Mammon is cooking human meals.

• When Beel wanted to take some of the food, Mammon slapped his hand away saying that it's not for him.

• He asks who it is for and Mammon answers that it's for the human. He said they want to bring a human bento box to school so he decided to make some for them (and himself).

• Beel complained why not let their cook prepare it but Mammon saying, in his tsundere way, that he wants them to feel and taste the homemade bento rather than the one made by a professional.

• Asmo and Levi obliviously started bitching around why he doesn't cook for them too. Mammon rolled his eyes and said that they can cook for themselves so why would he. He told them how his friends can't cook to save life and he has to take the matter at hand, implying that he often cooks for them before and after they arrived here where it's been millennia since they tasted his cooking. (No wonder they sometimes smell lingering homemade meals in the kitchen).

• Satan and Belphi give him snarky comments to disguise their displeasure while Beel looks upset and Lucifer just stays silent.

• Mammon never cooks for someone outside their family circle. It used to be their thing.

• (HC) Mammon is actually smart (not as smart as Luci or Satan but his brain work differently if you know what I mean?), above average while his human is decent.

• You see, no one really went to the house library except Satan who may just make the place his bedroom.

• One day, when Satan is chilling in there while reading new books. Mammon and his friend went inside to study. Apparently the human want to study more about Devildom but also about human courses and Mammon helps them. Satan scoffed at that.

• Mammon demonstrates or shows some unique and interesting way to study, some of the things Satan still brings with himself until this moment. Lucifer was the one who introduced him to reading but Mammon was the one who brought him to like it. So seeing them study, while having fun, and enjoy it brings some good memories between him and the second born. But he also feels unpleasant seeing them as he thought that fun study seasons are just their, Mammon and Satan, thing.

• Mammon often act stupid so he doesn't need to study or help someone study.

• Levi and Mammon used to be the troublemaker of the gang, partner in crime, each other ride or die. When they were up to something or didn't feel like talking, no words were needed and they just needed a little gesture to understand each other. Don't tell anyone but Levi was proud of it, thinking that it's something special between them and no one has, or is able to have, it with Mammon.

• But then he started to notice the way Mammon and the human communicate. When something amusing happens and one of them wants to let the others know, they just need to have each other's attention and talk with their eyes and a little gestures here and there. Their facial expressions are an addition. Sometimes when they are near, a little tap or touch is needed.

• Everytime it happens in front of his eyes, Levi is burning with jealousy.

• Lucifer prides himself on being able to read his brothers, especially the second born. Because he knows him longer and for a long time it's just the two of them before the others join their little family. He prided himself that no one can't understand Mammon as well as him.

• But he came to doubt it when he noticed how the human always catched a little change in Mammon's expressions, tones or body language. Depending on what the changes cause, the human seems to know what they need to do and say. Sometimes they just sit close or distract him with small silly talk. And whatever gestures they provide and give always manage to ease Mammon.

• Belphie went downstairs in the middle of the night, having a nightmare and doesn't want to disturb his twin.

• He found Mammon in the kitchen making some drink which he identifies as something he used to make when one of his younger brothers had a nightmare or when Lucifer worked too much. Belphie used to come to Mammon when he had a nightmare and the older one would make him drink and then ease him to sleep. After that, he would had the best sleep.

• He silently sits on the seat in the kitchen and silently hopes that Mammon will come and make sure that he is alright and sleep peacefully after.

• When he heard something placed beside him, he peered a little and found Mammon gave him a little smile before ruffling his hair and went outside.

• He frowned and turned his head to the side to see where Mammon went.

• From there, he can see Mammon walking to the living room and found that the human is there. It seemed like they had a nightmare. Mammon sits beside them and gives them the drink, they exchange soft murmuring words.

• Despite the unpleasant feeling he feels, he doesn't really mind. Until he heard a familiar melody. It started with a quiet hum but it became clearer.

• That's a lullaby Mammon used to sing for the brothers, for him. The one Mammon said that he created the random, but shooting, tunes for Belphie. When he was a child, he often had nightmares and it was kind of hard to make him go back to sleep. But since Mammon started humming or singing the lullaby, it became easier.

• The first time he heard Mammon also sang it to the others, it made him really upset because he thought it's for him and just him. Mammon convinced him that it's his and he is the sole reason he created it not the other so it's really special and he just wants the other to know too. He then make them to perfect the lullaby to make it them, but Belphie favourite is always the original one.

• But now, seeing and hearing his brother sang it to someone else, to the human, a stranger and an outsider makes him angry and sad. He loudly stomps away ignoring his call asking is there something wrong.

• The first few years they arrived at the Devildom, Asmo was in his lowest self. One of the many ways Mammon used to cheer him up is to bring a lot of beautiful things for him. He still keeps them, saving them as his most treasured treasure. Up until now, Mammon still brings him something he thinks is pretty or reminds him of Asmo.

• Although he critisted them sometimes or teased him of it, he still kept them. Asmo most favourite is the bracelet he's wearing. This is the very first thing Mammon gave him after they fell and it turns out he made it by himself.

• It's not as beautiful as his other accessories by any means, but he loves it so much. There was a time when he misplaced it and he literally trashed his room and so upset he cried for hours. The others try to help finding it or tell him that maybe he needs something new which got him angry at them.

• Turn out it was with Mammon all the time because he found something need to be fixed. So he fixed it by himself and added some additional things, saying that to make it more presentable. He is relieved that at least it's not gone and is upset at Mammon, telling him that he should let him know then make him so scared thinking he may lose it. But he incredibly grateful for his effort.

• It's been so long since Mammon brought him something. He didn't realize it at first but when he caught Mammon bringing something for his human friend because it reminds him of them or he thinks they'll like it. He thought when the last time Mammon bring him something.

• He left it as he thought it may be just one time thing but he kept catching Mammon giving the human thing he found or made.

Well, that all I could get for this idea. Hope you like it!!

#mammon headcanons #obey me #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeous #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #oc #human oc #the brothers are jelly #someone stolen their place lol

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pairofmelaninkweens · 3 years

Text

Nostalgia

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou x Natsumi Myaski (oc)

By: @sweet-darling91

Summary: (Post time skip )Kurro has been looking for a chance to possibly reconcile with an Ex, but soon comes to learn that nostalgia can realy lead you down a path of thorns instead of a bed of roses.

CW/TW: Angst, vanilla sex, and cunnilingus.

Wc: 4783

art by: twi.night on Instagram! one of the pictures Kuroo kept on the wall of his condo of Him and Natsumi.

The subtle warm scent with fresh citrus notes alerted his senses. It was mixed with that perfectly unique smell and feeling that only one person in existence could provoke, Natsumi. It sprung memories of late-night lovemaking in his dorm, as the rays of moonlight illuminated your cocoa brown skin, highlighting its cinnamon undertones.

The buns you swept your hair up in were removed when he pulled the hair ties free, sending your dark curly tresses tumbling down past your shoulders. Wrapping the curls around his fingers as he tugged them, groaning when you bowed your back as he took you from behind. Remembering the way your ass pressed against his pelvis, the way you would keen when he spread your buttery smooth thighs further, watching your essence coat his cock as he plunged it deep into your quivering cunt.

He remembered the way your silken walls would quiver around him as you moaned his name, the way your small frame would tremble as he sunk balls deep into you, your cum would drip down his balls. Fuck, you were so perfect. He would get lost in you night after night. Even now, years after you left his life. He would still fantasize about you, craving the way your warm body clung to him. It broke his heart when you lost contact with him, because like it or not you were a pillar in his life.

You were the one that brought him to accept parts of himself he neglected. The origin of most of his kinks and preferences. Especially the first girl he endearingly called Chibi-chan. Of course, he ignored the fact that it was indeed the same name he teased his Orange haired buddy with over his height-or lack thereof. It was different for you though; it was meant to be endearing. The most important detail is after all this time and secret pining, he found you, mere feet away far enough not to be in direct contact thanks to the layout of the patio, with the decorative shrubbery around, and the angle his table was stationed at. He had the vantage point in observing you, and it made his cock twitch remembering the way you made his blood heat. The memory of the connection you once shared painfully squeezes his chest.

Natsumi Miyazaki, a name that was burned into his memory forever. Now sits with perfectly crossed legs poised in your seat. Hair cut into a bob, parted on the side, with bangs framing your slender face. Hazel eyes sparkled when you beamed at the man cracking jokes over coffee. He couldn’t be that funny to be making you flash your smile like that he thought as he turned up his nose, letting his lips sink into a frown and eyes narrow at the sight of you with him.

The cashmere top with the sweetheart cut highlighted your delicate clavicle and the swell of your breasts. Your form-fitting skirt accentuated your small waist, hugging your hips and thick thighs. Kuroo began biting his tongue wishing he could get a better view of your ass. The white and cream outfit was cute, clean, and professional. It read that you meant business, that, and the subtle tells in your body language confirmed it. The way your eyes analyzed the orange-haired man, and the all too polite way you sipped at your latte, made him laugh darkly.

Whatever Shoyo was saying must have given you the answer you were looking for, and your response was subtle pettiness. He recognized that polite smile was a mask, the exaggerated nods and the batting of your eyelashes was used to do to supress rolling your eyes. This happened when you asked him questions you already knew the answers to. A cleaver warning and it seems that went over Shoyo’s head. What were you up to? Why were you out here all dolled up with a new outfit and hair styled completely different than when it was back in college? Why change your appearance to shortcake? Then it dawned on him, information. You were working, he knew you were, but was distracted staring at you. The longer you took probing Shoyo, the more impatient he became, fidgeting in his seat and glowering.

Leaving a tip for the waitress he made his way to your table; he was only 5 feet away when the rhythmic tap of 4 manicured digits followed by a double-tap of your index finger against the glass table halted his stride. It was your sign to him; acknowledging his presence and warning not to interrupt. This shouldn’t surprise him. You were always the most astute in class, rivalling him for the top academic grade and overall performance. Along the way to those achievements, you spent so much time together you were well versed in each other’s non-verbal cues.

That’s what got him so interested in you, seeing how your mind worked. The way you would speak volumes with so few words and see everything with a glance. Now pointedly walking past the table, he answered your rasp with two taps of his umbrella against the cobblestone patio floor. “Looks like rain” he remarked as he opened it out, and started walking up the street.

Five minutes later he heard the quick taps of heels and the gentle, beautiful fragrance returned when you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind. “Is this a good time?” he asked, eyes still trained forward, steps returning to their previous pace.

You release a contented hum, and then raise your head to ask, “Which one is yours?” releasing your hold on him and motioning towards the parked cars.

“The black Audi,” he responds, as you smile to yourself eying the 2017 R8 model. “Of course, the flashiest car for the former prince of Nekoma high.” You say as you playfully shove his shoulder. He looks down at you and curls his lips shrugging at the tease. “ I mean, were they wrong?”

Rolling your eyes you open the passenger side door, settling in the seat and sliding off the bob-cut wig and cap that encased your curly tresses. Kuroo watched the curls spill down your shoulder as you rub your scalp and sigh in relief, only stopping to spot the time on the dash. “Ok, let’s go, my schedule’s free after that meeting.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, “Always so forward."

“There’s no time to beat around the bush, if you have something to ask me, go ahead,” you quip, with a sharp side glance at him, before pulling the visor down to adjust your lipstick in the mirror.

“I just missed you,” he admitted.

“Missed me or missed what I could do for you?” Closing the visor, you turn and look him in the eye, your gaze piercing through him. His shoulders slump slightly, and a bitter chuckle escapes his lips. “Is it always going to be business with you? Even after everything?”

“It’s always going to be business with you because of everything. You're the one that said ‘lets just be friends. Realistically that's the best option because I’m too dangerous to be a stranger to you with all that I know." You finish, chest burning with your bitter pettiness and disgust in sympathy for his masked pain. "You were one of the greatest loves of my life. But not THE love of my life.” you continue, thinning your lips and turning away and closing your eyes to soothe the burning in them.

“I still love you too. But it’s not gonna happen, our time is over.” You finally say.

“I figured that you became an information broker to get Kiyoomi’s attention recently.” He interjected with jealousy clear in his tone.

Snapping your gaze back at him. “I chose my career to be independent, so no would hurt me like you did. I don’t want to take orders from someone because I’m no goon. I stand by my policy. It would do you well to stand by it too.” Ignoring his pained reaction, you continued. “Taking me to your place, right? Then let’s get on with that instead because I don’t owe you any of my personal details.” The thought crossed you mind, and the words slipped past your lips before you could stop them. “That information is a premium charge if you’re that curious.” you stated holding out your hand.

“it’s in the glove box” he sighed. “I know you didn’t seek me to purchase information for your ‘work.’ you wanted my time, didn’t you?” looking up to see him nodding in reply with a dejected smile. You weren’t finished though, thinking to yourself as you exited the car, followed him through the underground garage, past security and into his penthouse. You had a point to prove with your hidden agenda, and you weren’t leaving here until you got what you came for.

Stepping through the threshold was like sinking into the warm comforting depths of the deep sunlit seawater. Warm, familiar, and comforting. Immediately you could tell that nothing had changed, relief washed over you with the realization that dramatically increased your advantage and success rate for your target. Just like the deep-sea waters though you knew there were dangers the deeper you sank into this familiarity. Shoving that thought to the side you slid off your shoes and began walking through the hall, hands grazing the walls observing pictures of him and his family. Passing one of you in a group shot together cleverly placed in the collage on the wall, slipping into the living room, passing the pictures of the old gang and snapshots of you studying with Sienna, and Kenma. Then seeing yourself standing in the rain in the background of a team group shot mocking Bokuto who was trying to duck out of the shot but failed to. Blushing wildly covering your best friend from the rain with his jacket and hiding his face that was covered in tinted lip balm. “Always the gentleman Bo.” You grinned at the shot, roaming over other pictures of his MSBY friends, the rival teams, some shots included new coaches, vice-captains, fellow higher-ups and the team medics. Then you saw the generous helping of pictures of your time together though, the two of you studying with Sienna and Bokuto, who was flustered looking at Sienna instead of the textbook. Shots of you riding on Kuroo’s shoulders, a cute one that you vividly remember Sienna taking of you covered in your own lipstick when Kuroo put it on and smothered you with kisses all over your face and arm, a flustered expression clearly focused on the camera. You remember the way he was focused on you, only looking to the camera to smirk before he continued his assault of kisses on you. Finally, the last picture was of you landing that ‘Oikawa serve’ in one of the final games before leaving college. Once again you closed your eyes, trying to soothe yourself from the melancholy trip down memory lane with his display.

Slipping open your lids you accepted the fact that the burning in your throat and prickling in your eyes would not cease, letting the cool tears flow freely. “you cruel bastard. You kept all of it. Why?”

“Because You’re always on my mind, you never left.”

“is that all?” you say turning to face him, hating the conflicting feelings swarming through you all at once, the nostalgia was warm, sweet, and welcoming. But the result was bitter, cold and lonely. Logically you should stick to the job, but your emotions were forcing you to focus your mind elsewhere.

“Nope, your here too.” He points to his heart. “Every time I close my eyes it’s you, I see. Wishing that it’s your voice calling out my name, your hair that fanned out on the pillow next to mine. Your arms wrapping around me. If I take them down. If I remove all the stuff. It would be leaving a void in the middle of my life. I can’t have that, I’d crumble.” He admits with his eyes locked in your gaze.

You answer him by bounding into his arms like old times and breathlessly kissed him. He deepened it, holding you tightly, cradling the back of your head gently letting his free hands travel down your back and firmly grabbing your ass pulling you close to his body and rolling his hips into you. Groaning as he feels your warm body. Relishing in the smooth suppleness of your skin under his hands.

"Your skin was always so smooth, so soft." He murmured into your neck. Trailing open mouth kisses down it. Leaning your head to the right, granting him more access to your throat. Fluttering your lashes enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin again. Your brought back down onto your feet, as he sinks to his knees, unzipping your skirt and letting it pool around your ankles. You grabbed his tie and pulled him flush against your pelvis, slipping one leg over his shoulder and angling your puffy lips to align with his mouth.

"Kiss me, show me how much you missed me." Winking and smiling at him sweetly. His face heats at your sudden boldness, a contrast to the usual blushing submissive side. Leaning forward he obliged and kissed you through the thin crotch of the lacy fabric separating his lips from yours. Flattening his tongue, he laved it down your wet slit. Biting your bottom lip to stifle moans threatening to echo through the apartment, you began rocking your hips back and forth, craving more friction. Sensing your eagerness Kuroo pulls at the material with his teeth and lets the elastic snap against you. Humming in pleasure when he hears the responding gasp melting into a soft muted moan. He missed the sounds you made, and he wanted to hear more of them. Slipping his index finger past the ruined panties he sinks his index finger knuckle deep, groaning at how eagerly your gummy walls wrapped around his digit. "God, your so tight Chibi-chan, did u miss me?"

Whining in response you wrapped your fingers around the strands of raven hair pulling harshly. "Mmmm more" you demanded, he smiled noting the lack of answer and obediently slipped the second digit in, pumping the fingers in and out, taking pleasure in the feeling of you clenching around him, the sweet taste of your slick and skin. But what really got him going was the sounds spilling from your lips when he swallowed your clit into his mouth hollowing out his cheeks and grinding his fingers against that spongey spot that had you bucking her hips and crying out. His breathing started to get obstructed when you yanked at his tie, tightening it around his throat. His vision getting blurry and the sound of his blood rushing through his veins filled his ears. Then on instinct you released the tie, fresh air flooded into his lungs, the rush of oxygen and the dopamine surging through his system delivered an indescribable high.

He freed his cock from his pants giving himself slow soothing pumps to his throbbing length. Its head swollen, pink and dripping pre that he used as a lube before grabbing your hips and easing you to sit on his face. He bucked into the empty air craning his neck and slipped his tongue into your quivering pussy. Your legs gave out as your orgasm surged through you like a flash fire, igniting every blood cell in our body with hot pleasure that clouded your mind and mad your eyes roll to the back of your head as you released a litany of curses and Kuroo’s name. He gripped your hips with a bruising force, drinking in your cum as it spilled into his mouth, embracing your trembling form.

As you caught your breath Kuroo brushed the stray strands of hair free from your face and immediately searched your face for signs of discomfort. His lips stretched into a smile when you started smoothing your hands through his hair. “I’m not a dog, you don’t need to pet me he nipped at your hand. Standing, and stripping off his shirt and shooting you a wink. “Well at least dogs are loyal.” Returning his wink as you get to your feet and watch him as he flings his shirt and tie over his shoulder, grasping his chest and looking down at you through his lashes. “Ouch, you aren’t here to play nice, are you?” he croons as he slips his hands on your waist and back steps toward his room.

“Not at all.” you answer while pointing over to his bed, “have a seat,” waiting for him to do so, your request before you slipped out of the top, revealing the strapless bralette and flinging it his way, grinning when he caught it in his mouth, shooting you a wink and growling. Releasing a playful “woof” before dropping it onto the floor to watch you close the space between you two. You slid your palms up his thigh bracing the other hand on his chest, coaxing him to lean back allowing you to slink up his long body letting your glistening pussy lips slide up his hardened shaft and muffled his groan when you pressed your plump lips over his pulling back to whisper, “shhh, don’t get too excited too soon” you tease trailing kisses down his neck, leaving blossoming bruises in your wake, kissing down his chest and finally sitting back up halting your hip to search his face. You could feel the way his heart was hammering in his chest against your palm. “Don’t be shy now Natsumi.” He bucks his hips and you sink your teeth into your lip to stifle the moan rising from you.

His hands fastened to your hips in a death grip, his fingers and knuckles white, his pupils blown, his chest heaving with anticipation. He nodded and bucked his hips, slipping his shaft through your delicate petals and being rewarded with a sweet soft moan. “Lean forward Chibi-chan, I got you,” he assured. Reluctant to trust him for much, you relented with a sigh and obeyed.

Feeling his swollen velvety tip breach your entrance, you couldn’t hold back from slamming your hips down, enveloping him in your warm, hungry pussy with a moan that made him growl low in his throat. “D-don’t move, ok?” you struggled through whimpers at how the stretch sent pleasure flooding your senses. Your body flushed with heat, goosebumps flashing across the surface, nipples pebbling before his eyes, and that plush bottom lip being tortured between your pearly teeth as you bit down on it to suppress moans threatening to spring free but still reaching Kuroo’s ears. Your hips bucked forward, working your waist in slow delicious circles that edged both of you just right. The friction your swollen clit got from grazing his hilt urged you to close your eyes and twerk your ass cheeks, the sudden movements caused his dick to grind against the walls of your tight core, which clenched him snuggly inside you. He gasped each time you jerked and rolled your waist, bouncing up and down his cock, building a punishing speed that drove him wild and bow his back up off the bed. “Chibi-chan that’s it, fuck yourself on my cock baby.” he moaned thrusting his hip up in time to crash into yours when you thrusted your hips down, making him moan out in bliss, lolling his tongue out as your hips jackhammered down onto him. “Kurooooo, I’m gonna cum.”

He eased the pressure on your hips, his breath stuttering and sweat collecting on his brow as he watched the way you raised your body up the length of his dick and dropped onto it. Your swollen lips swallowing him deeply, convulsing around him. “Mm cum on this cock Chibi-Chan!” he growled demanding your attention and compliance. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long when you would finally come back and ride me and let me fuck you into this mattress. Ffffff fuck Natsumi.” You throw your head back as your pussy convulses and your orgasm ripples through your body. Radiating waves of intensity surging through your body sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head. He sits up to let you rest your forehead against his, both of you panting for breath. He laid slow soft kisses across your flushed cheeks, smoothing his hands up your back and down your sides slowly but gaining in pressure. You also feel his cock harden inside you as he starts brings his lips against your, kissing your deeply and letting your taste yourself on his tongue.

Rocking your hips in slow motions you let him take advantage and toss you into the mattress, sinking his incisors into your neck and his cock balls deep “you feel so good baby~ I wanna cum deep inside you, look at me Sumi. I want to see your face when I fill you.” He ruts into you setting the delicious pace of pulling out and pounding into your dripping cunt, the chorus of hips crashing into each other, the squelching of your wet pussy milking him, and wanton moans filled his ears. He forced his eyes closed trying to burn it all into memory. The beautiful pitch your voice took when he hit that perfect spot deep inside you, lacing his fingers with yours, he crowded your frame with his broad upper body. Balancing on his elbows he used every muscle in his thighs to push into you, bringing tears to your eyes as flashes of black and white cloud your vision, all the breath left your body as Kuroo sent you tumbling into a prolonged orgasm. A wild blissful ride rendering your body weightless, gravity no longer existed, lost in the incredible sensations coursing through your body and spasmed when Kuroo thrust almost painfully deep into you pumping you past your limit with hot ropes of cum pulsing into you. You felt warm everywhere, there was tingling under the surface of your skin, movements reduced to the speed of warm molasses. “I’ve got you Natsumi.” his voice sounded so far away but the sound was followed with gentle soothing strokes up your sides, slowly grounding you. Soon after the feeling of him caressing your cheek and feeling him planting a soft kiss on your lips brought your mind back to the present, just like he would back then. Bringing you back down to earth after fucking your soul out of your body filled him with pride knowing he still could do this to you. The bitter pangs of his heart told him that one day the person doing this wouldn’t be him. The gentle sound of your voice thanking him grasped his attention and gave him the chance to appreciate your raw beauty. The lipstick had long been kissed away revealing plump two-toned nude lips, the even tone of her golden chestnut skin and deep chocolate eyes made his sting with tears. “It’s been a long time, nostalgia’s hurting, isn’t it?” you teased reaching your arms out for him to pull himself into an embrace, sighed at the feeling of you nuzzling into him and kissing his jaw. “Seeing you like this hit hard. It’s like seeing my dreams and memories merge together and play out in front of me, yet the actual thing, still pales every single image, every thought, every memory in comparison.” Pulling back to see his face you arched an eyebrow. “oh?”

“Every time I have someone next to me, I wished it were your body warming that side of my bed instead, your curls fanned out across my pillow, your voice filling the room when you call my name, and your lips I taste when I kiss. I shouldn’t have hurt you the way I did Sumi, I’m sorry.” He breathed. You closed her eyes and hummed. This was supposed to hurt more. But it was just a dull ache of sympathy, the bond that you had with him had long frayed and snaped, well at least you hoped. You truly moved on. It was a relief and a pity. A relief that you felt nothing, a pity for him, that he was feeling everything.

“That connection had long since ended Roo, the love I feel for you now isn’t the same. That level of devotion was gone the moment you left me. Understand? I only give that out to those deserving. This was sweet, to an extent. But by no means is it a sign of any kind of romantic reconcile, ok?” his eyes swirled with remorse, and he numbly nodded. Finishing the water he gave you, you placed it on the side table as headed to the bathroom to clean yourself up in the hot shower, rinsing the feeling of him off your skin. Breathing the hot steam deep into your lungs to refocus your mind. Inwardly thanking him for not following you in there. After the shower you grab a town and dry of, return to the room finding him sitting on the bed. Looking up at you a smile flashed across his face along with a faint blush on his cheeks. “Your hair, it brings me back to when I would help you with drying it out, detangling and oiling your scalp.” You shook your head. And cast him a side glance. “And?”

“Well, it was my favourite, you know I always thought your hair was cute in those buns" he muses, she glared at him. "How childish. People grow Kuroo, I have long grown out of that. You know it was cute walking down memory lane with you, but it revealed one thing. You haven’t changed, your out here fucking girls that remind you of me, holding onto the past while I, and the rest of the world move forward. Grow up, you should try it sometime." You spat, spinning on your toes to invade his closet, boldly slamming the door and reef through the clothes for something to wear only to come up to another nostalgic discovery, with out uttering a word you grabbed the old uniform and put it on, gathering up his travel bag and rummaging through his drawers, eyes scanning every free surface. Noticing that he was not making a sound made you suspicious. “You alive?” tensing waiting for his reply.

“Yeah, just giving you space-” he was cut off when he saw the college uniform hug your curvy figure. He truly felt like if he blinked, you’d vanish, but when you realized what was going on you yanked the bundles of hair free, shaking the damp curls and sweeping them up into a messy bun letting stray strands frame your face. “I may be a vision from your memories, so take a good look. This is the last time you’ll see me like this. Once I leave this room you won’t have this chance again. So, I do hope that your ‘hoe phase’ was an enjoyable one.” you finished slipping on a pair of runners. “I really can’t believe you kept everything here, that isn’t healthy, and if you have other women wearing my things, that’s- disturbing.”

“What should I do with the clothes you came here with.”

“Burn it. Toss it, it’s of little consequence to me, my job is done.” You shrug on the travel bag on your shoulders.

“But I didn’t tell you anything, you never asked any questions. Did you even get what you needed?” Cupping his cheek to look into his eyes. “Thank you for being one of my greatest loves Kuroo, you really should stop putting yourself in danger trying to steal glances at me. Turning up in places where you think I will be or following my potential targets. You’ll end up putting a target on your back if you keep that up, I’m grown. I can handle myself.” you warned, “bye Sumi.” he closed his eyes and felt you kiss him, when he opened them again his heart sank to see the room empty, but then it sank into his belly realizing what exactly she did. Running into the walk-in closet he yanked open his draws in search of his files and the dossier. No surprise, they were all missing, the dossier, all the files including the first classified drive he had in there. Damn, He really paid her to rob him. He smiled bitterly to himself admiring the finesse. He attempted to buy time to plead his case, only to be out of luck with love, and now possibly his job.

#kuroo angst #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo x oc #kuroo x reader oc #haikyuu smut #haikyū!!

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remsmoonlight · 3 years

Text

— title : glitter in the sky

— word count : 2.3 k words

— pairing : loki x reader

— summary : before putting into place his plan for thor’s coronation, he seeks you out one more time for comfort only you can provide

— warnings : maybe a teeeeeny bit of thor bashing but incredibly minor .. love ‘im fr , bit of sadness

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　requested ? nope　/ requests are open *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

an: i got this idea, first from watching the first thor movie because aw, and then moving onto silent hill and that field scene is a whole vibe..... who doesn’t wanna just chill randomly in a field with the sun on your skin with no responsibilities? hell yeah .. anyways this just got away from me in a way ha

Trailing your gaze up to the sky, your eyes marvel at the merging colours as you study them intently, witnessing the blend of hues and tones from a bright blue to a mixture of warm pinks and burnt oranges light up the surrounding area before you knew they would fade into nothing more than a dark blanket who’s only source of light would be the moonlight and the stars that would litter it.

Your shoes crunching the dry grass and the sounds of chirping from the various wildlife encompasses you, it takes all of your strength to not allow a large grin to brighten your features.

Despite being so late in the afternoon, time walking on a fine line towards the early evening, the heat from the sun is still so strong, comfortably toasting your skin as a heavy blanket on a cold winter’s night would.

In the distance you’re able to spot the intimidating stature of the aged tree, though it’s intimidating in name only ⎯ for now it holds only those memories that lay locked deep within your heart. Your situation is a rather unusual one. Many summer afternoons had been spent shielded from the harsh rays of sunlight that shone over everything it could touch, though they hadn’t been spent alone. Rather, they’d been spent with an exceedingly phenomenal man. Can he even be called that? You wonder to yourself, Loki was far from human. Far, far from it.

“ to think I had been of the belief you would not be appearing. “

The suddenness of the voice slicing through the noises of the concealed fields would have shocked you more had it not been so honeyed. Holding the recognisable smoothness that you only associated with Loki.

“ this is the first time I’ve ever been late, thank you very much. “ you answer with an unwavering nerve as you stare at him while amusement floods your expression.

“ and the last, I’m sure? “ an eyebrow raises as he questions you, a warmth brightening his aura against the coolness he exudes normally.

Believing he’s not of Earth had been hard for you to grip, to believe fully, no matter how many tricks he could conjure before your very eyes. Though disappearing right before you, then feeling the whisper of his breath dance on the back of your neck so gracefully had been the confirmation you required. From there on a friendship blossomed into something more, you both becoming more and more involved with the other. Holding such unbelievable secrets were not a common place for you, to have this continues to make you feel like such a special soul.

“ oh, shut up! “

You stroll towards him, closing the distance with an enthusiastic energy that not even the longest of days could wear you down. Nothing in the world makes you feel so secure and guarded than when you finally feel the weight of his arms snake around you to bring you forward into his embrace. For Loki, you are a home away from home. Never do you gaze upon him with untrustful eyes, nor do you view him as beneath you, many negative connotations are attached to his name and you? You simply see him for who he wishes he could be, only ever in your presence does he try not to disappoint you. Back on Asgard that’s all anyone ever expects, so why not play into their prejudices? It has protected him so far, though the thought that perhaps even that has done more harm than good tresspasses into his mind on a rare occasion.

It��s not something he wishes to think about there though. He wants to dedicate his short visit to you entirely. Pushing away the increasingly regular thought it’s just a heartbeat, he is not one to be naive to pretend. Illusions are second nature to him, to forge them as easily to breathe, but to experience them are something that is in his power to prevent. He could allow this one instance to be selfish.

“ might I inquire of your wellbeing since we parted last? “ he requests as fingers entwine with yours to guide you to the slight hollow space within the tree. You drop yourself without any elegance to the ground, he settles behind you with his legs on either side of yours.

You can’t help but marvel at the differences between the two of you, like night and day. However, your differences fit like a puzzle with no inconvenience.

“ life keeps trying to test my patience, same as ever but ⎯ “ you pause, your eyes shining with remembrance of the gift you had brought, of course you knew it’s nothing more than a silly little trinket but you couldn’t help but fall in love with it. “ here, my friend’s been making these pieces for their business and I couldn’t help but think of you. “

Adoration is the only thing that overwhelms him in this moment, it’s a feeling he wants to lock away to relive over and over, for the only time he has never been treated as an afterthought is by his mother. Now? It’s a feeling that hasn’t been forged by a bond born of blood, but one that has arisen naturally. The item in your hand is a small metal band, with designs etched onto its body.

“ it’s only a little thing I know ⎯ “ you begin to babble, the words tumbling before you could even stop them. Your mind losing all control over your language before Loki put a stop to it.

“ I’ll have you know it’s not the physical item itself, but the sentiment behind it I hold dear. “

You want to respond with equally sweet words, but the heavy tone doesn’t go undiscovered by your ears.

“ Loki, what’s wrong? “

“ nothing, why do you ask? “ the God denies, switching the questioning to you.

Turning to face him, your eyes scout all over his features to spot anything that would give you cause to continue on with your concern. It’s light, the ghost of sorrow concealed behind a curtain of confidence and ego, even the most professional of liars can’t hide the truth of that. The hurt cuts too deep for a flimsy pretense of everything being perfect for it to bury those feelings.

“ you’re an amazing liar, but I’m beginning to get the hang of you. Besides, sadness is something difficult to completely hide. “

A heavy breath is released, your fingers from their position on his shoulders feel as if there’s an invisible weight that has almost decreased. You wonder how long he has carried this with him.

“ tell me. “

Every fibre of Loki’s being is fighting to keep his feelings kept away out of sight, to imagine they never manifested themselves into reality, but locked into place by the profound compassion swirling in your eyes he wants to finally divulge everything in his mind that has been plaguing him. Who knew a mortal could have such an enchanting effect he thought humourfully to himself.

“ the deadline for a successor to my father’s throne is approaching. “

“ and you’re worried? “ your brows lower, confusion marking your features as you struggle to understand why that could be so bad?

“ I've veiled many things from you, a fault of mine I understand completely. “ he admits, a sorrowful smile gracing his lips.

“ it’s never too late to share them. It might help you feel better? “

Loki wonders just what it is he has done in his history to be blessed with such an understanding and caring soul as yours, nothing could ease the lasting effects of each and every of his transgressions over his many years of living. How exactly could such radiance and light find the dark Prince of Asgard so easily? Many who lived in his realm would argue that he’s not deserving, instead countering that his brother should be in such a position of happiness.

He simply gazes upon you before speaking, a slender finger raising to tuck a few stray hairs behind your ear.

“ the successor has already been chosen, they always have been. This is a mere formality. “ switching his sight from you to the environment around you both, turning to look upon the steadily darkening sky.

“ so why do it then? “

“ to ensure that the process is seen as fair, despite the favour repeatedly falling to my brother. “

Nodding in understanding, you finally realise why there is a darkness that swirls over his head now he speaks of the topic. Living in the shadow of the golden child is not easy, your heart hurts as you realise that there must be many people who do not see the same man who you see. They see audacity instead of a daringness, to mistake him for an egotistical know it all instead of someone who has a thirst for knowledge and tricks.

“ never did they wish to stop viewing me as a troublesome child, I suppose I never aided in changing that. “

Nothing falls from your lips, knowing no words could do justice for what you need him to know, to feel. Twisting yourself onto your knees, you lean forward and allow your arms to provide him comfort as they surround his neck. One hand raises to rest in the dense raven locks of hair you constantly marvel over, moving ever so softly to trace patterns.

“ I’m sorry. “ you mumble softly, wanting to say more, but you can’t help but resign yourself to being unable to say anything meaningful. Instead, figuring it would be better, first, for him to speak his emotions without looking for any advice.

“ you’ve nothing to apologise for. The pieces will fall as they should. “ he comforts, whining to himself over the absence of your warmth as you withdraw the embrace.

“ Loki, what do you mean by that? “

“ nothing for you to worry yourself over, my dove. “ he shakes his head, as a chuckle that is short accompanies it, contains little genuine amusement to settle you.

“ I’m being serious, what are you talking about? “ your demand is light in touch, though your gaze holds an unrelenting strength as he looks towards you once more.

“ again, nothing that requires your concern. Midgardians, you worry too much. “

“ over things that can get the people we love into trouble, of course. “

His heart pauses in beating as the words seep into his mind, realising exactly what you spoke. Briefly, does he wonder if he misheard you, thought deep down he knows what you spoke.

“ did you ⎯ ? “ an unrecognisable vulnerability crosses his expression as he begins to ask what you had said, to hear it again as if for the first time.

A reddening of you cheeks can be seen, you look down with a sheepish grin. This had not been the way you had imagined using the love word. Of course, over the years of your life many things had not gone to plan, so this was just another instance in a long, long line of events that just got away from you. While you know there is something mutual, you can’t bring yourself to look upon him just yet.

“ you heard me correctly. “

Elation swells within him, even the thought of perhaps you would prefer Thor had you met him first could not creep more than a few feet before being banished from sight and mind, it’s not something he wants to entertain. Especially for what he has in mind to plan for the future. Instead, he allows himself to be engulfed in your love, to experience the last piece of goodness that has been reserved for him, knowing it won’t last.

All you feel from your dropped gaze is your nose being nudged by his, then the weight of his lips on your own. Moving together as if they are fighting to mould into one, fitting together so well. Both of you are left breathless, momentarily caught in the feeling of the other that oxygen is the last thing on your mind.

“ do not trouble yourself over events that have not come to pass yet. Especially on an evening as fine as this. “

The corner of your lips tilt higher as your turn away from him to peer over the surroundings you had briefly forgotten. The burnt colours had long since faded into darkness, the stars being the only light as they can only be likened to being glitter in the night’s sky. A true beauty.

“ I love nights like these, where you can see all of the stars. “

“ you’d be besotted with Asgard’s constellations. “

You’d settled back into the position you were in previously, with arms encompassing you protectively with your back secured firmly to his chest. Loki explains the beauty of Asgard, and how even in the day the stars can still be seen against the shining vividness of the colours of their sky. Quarrelling against the gold hues from both the sun and the palace he knows only as his home.

“ that sounds wonderful. “ you whisper, feeling fatigue sneaking its way to the forefront of your mind.

“ it truly is a beauty to see. “ agreeing with you, resting his head upon yours. Wishing nothing more than to be able to stay there in that moment forever.

“ I wish I could see it. I’m very jealous right now. “

He can feel you becoming increasingly drowsy, flattered that you would even let your guard enough to even allow sleep to touch you. Having you on Asgard would certainly make him a happier person, to have someone who isn’t his mother understand him would be freeing. Though his father would die before he allowed that to happen, a mortal on Asgard.

“ Perhaps one day. “

Loki can’t be sure if you even heard that, but it’s something he wants to entertain. Besides, what is the use of being a master of mischief and tricks if he couldn’t make such a desire come true?

#loki x reader #loki imagine #loki layfeyson x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #loki fluff

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kingofkingdom-archive · 3 years

Text

paradiso - part one

Pairing: young!Javier x fem!reader

Part ONE (of 5)

Rating: Teen

Summary: This will be a 5+1, short but sweet fic about you and Javi. He's an American student and you're an Italian heiress - your love is young, fun, and bittersweet. Lots of romance and fluff ahead.

Warnings: Smoking, tooth-rotting fluff, mention of alcohol

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: I needed something to distract me from finals week, so you all get this. :) I saw a tiktok about Pedro in like an old-money Italian aesthetic and the idea of it just would not leave me alone! Very much my ideal romance situation tbh. Anyways enjoy, the next part is partly written but no promises on when it'll be up. As always, no use of Y/N and please do lmk what you think! :)

The first time you kissed him, you could taste the champagne he’d had earlier that night. Not enough to get drunk, or even really buzzed, but enough to leave his lips and tongue flavorful under your own.

His strong hand was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, fingers steady over the thin fabric of your dress. Javi held you like this often - from lunches on your parents’ boat to strolling casually through the piazza, he had definitely adopted the Italian tendency to show public affection through touch. All your male friends here do it, but with him it’s different.

Javi is so very different.

Tonight he looks even more like a dashing prince than usual. His dark hair is perfectly messy and his white shirt is unbuttoned just enough, his leather shoes shiny and understated. You’d smiled when you noticed his shoes - they’re the first nice pair he’d been able to afford while living here.

You met him four months ago, when spring was ending and summer soon approaching. He arrived early for his studies abroad, an American political sciences major in the heart of Florence.

Hardly a penny to his name, on a meal plan and receiving a generous scholarship or two, Javi had no business flirting with you. He did it anyway, and you found yourself charmed by his roguish smile and kind eyes. He paid for your gelato, like a typical American gentleman would, and bought some of his own. He ordered the same flavors as you. He hasn’t tried anything different since.

As you kiss him, the sea wind sweeps over the two of you on the secluded terrace where you stand, causing goosebumps to flutter over your skin. You shiver, pressing closer to Javi’s warmth.

He breaks the kiss, looking down at you with a concerned crease between his brows.

“You cold?” he asks, voice rough and deep in a way you don't recognize.

You can’t help but smile at him. He’s so handsome, looking at you like this. Holding you close. “Only a little. You’re warm enough for both of us.”

“This dress,” he murmurs, eyes flitting down to look at your lips. His fingers toy with your dress’s low backline where his hand rests beneath your shoulder blades. “No wonder you’re chilly.”

When your parents first met Javi, they were skeptical. They thought he was taking advantage of you, that he’d insert himself into your life for your wealth and your name.

He’d spent the past four months convincing them otherwise. Now your mother loves him and your father smiles at his jokes, which is something that can’t be said for many people. You can count on one hand the number of people who have made your father laugh, and Javi’s one of them.

He wants to join the FBI, or the CIA. One of the two, you could never get the acronyms straight. He told you about how there’s rigorous training, both physical and professional, to even be considered. Javi keeps himself in good shape for this reason, though your cook’s fine meals have added a bit of softness to his midsection. He complains about it, but you secretly love it. He’s so strong and disciplined that it’s lovely to see just a hint of vice in his features.

You run a hand up his bicep, feeling the muscles that he keeps hidden beneath his shirt.

“Do you like it?” you ask demurely. You bought the dress last week with the express purpose of looking good for him.

Javi takes his hand from your hip and places it on your cheek, his touch tender and gentle.

“You always look beautiful. Especially tonight.”

The party’s for one of your friends from school. She’s moving to the UK to continue her studies and this is her last big hurrah. You’d been invited, with the option for a plus-one, and Javi was the obvious choice.

You’d felt the gazes of the girls in attendance on you and Javi when you both arrived. He’s a few years older than you are, but you know they’re looking because they’ve never seen him before. He’s not part of the rotation of wealthy Florentine boys they all seem to cycle through like clockwork. He’s a stranger, and most importantly, he’s got you on his arm.

The music plays in the distance. Voices float up through the evening air, laughing and exuberant.

You lean into his touch, eyes closing against the comfort you feel with your cheek in his palm.

This must be what heaven feels like.

Javi had taken it slow with you. He earned your friendship before anything else, chatting with you about life and TV and his favorite sports teams back home. He told you about Texas, though when you expressed a desire to visit his hometown, he’d scoffed, calling the place a ‘shithole’.

You still want to visit, someday. Shithole or not.

Perhaps your friendship was the reason things did not progress very quickly between you. You knew he found you attractive and you most definitely felt the same, but for the longest time it just didn’t feel right to try and move things along.

There’d be moments, however, when you wished so desperately that he was yours it almost physically hurt.

One such moment was late one afternoon, on the deck of your family boat. You’d gotten out of the water first and you stood there, watching, as he emerged from the waves in his short swim trunks, the synthetic material clinging to his body ever so perfectly.

You’d seen the outline of… well. You’d seen the outline of something big, something that made you blush and look away, distracting yourself with drying your hair.

Another of these moments was an unremarkable Friday morning spent in one of your favorite bookshops, not too far from Javi's student apartment. You'd been browsing the shelves as he stood outside to smoke. Before long, you found a few paperbacks that looked interesting, and you paid for them with a kind smile to the elderly gentleman working at the register.

You'd exited with a "grazie!" and that's when you'd noticed Javi was speaking to someone, eyes bright and posture relaxed as he exhaled smoke through his nose.

He smiled at you the moment you exited the shop, and as you walked over, you listened to their conversation.

Javi was speaking to the stranger in Spanish. You recognized the sound of it, but could not understand it, having learned English and French and Arabic in your youth.

The other man, older with a salt-and-pepper beard, glanced over to you and then back at Javi. You stood beside your friend, books tucked safely under your arm.

"¿Esta es tu novia, Javier?"

The words caused Javi to blush, but he covered it by taking a drag from his cigarette.

"No, aún no. Algún día pronto."

It was the first time you'd heard him speak Spanish. The words rolled off his tongue with such ease that you couldn't help but glance up at him, intrigued by this new lilt to his voice. You wanted to hear more of it.

Javi snaked his hand around your back to your hip, fingers tucking into the belt loops on your jeans, and he pulled you into his side. You went easily, the motion a familiar one.

But something about hearing him converse in his first language, combined with the feeling of his firm hand on your hip, made something inside your heart shift. It was a small moment, miniscule in the grand order of things. It meant so very much to you.

Javi’s compliment makes you smile softly, his gaze full of such tenderness that it makes your heart ache. You put a hand on his chest, your cool palm a stark contrast to his furnace of a pectoral.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Peña.”

He chuckles, smiling, his breath a short burst across your face that makes your hair flutter.

Javi's always been good at avoiding praise. "I look the same as always, hermosa."

You run a hand up his shoulder and neck to tangle in his dark curls, warm at the base of his skull. He smells like the cologne you'd helped him pick out - something from a small shop he'd never have found on his own, something woody and deep and fragrant. It was mostly selfish, that shopping trip, because all it makes you want to do is bury your nose in the collar of his shirt where the aroma is strongest. You think you could breathe in that scent for the rest of your life and never get tired of it.

"Exactly," you murmur, glancing over his shoulder at the glittering coastline and then back up to him. "You always look handsome."

It's impossible for him to hide his blush this close. "Yeah?" he asks, like he doesn't believe you. Like he wants to hear you say it again.

"Yes. Even when you wear those ugly sports shirts.”

He makes a face like he’s offended, and you laugh. “Hey, you can never go wrong with a Cowboys jersey.”

You smile and lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. It seems as though now that you’ve started, you’re trying to make up for all the times you haven’t kissed him.

Javi goes quiet, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. You decide to open your heart just a bit more to him - it must be in the air, because something about the night is making your want of him that much stronger.

“I thought you were handsome the moment I saw you in the gelato shop," you tell him, thinking back on that day.

Usually Americans tended to annoy you, never conscious of local etiquette and manners, always too loud and disruptive - but Javi was so sweet. His brown eyes had glimmered at you like jewels, his lips quirked in a smile that gave life to a thousand butterflies in your stomach.

He'd sat with you for over an hour, listening to you like he'd known you your whole life. The warm sun gave his skin a glow that you remember clearly to this day. Long after you both had finished your food, he was there, as if he had all the time in the world for you.

Javi presses another soft kiss to your lips, slow and mesmerizing, before drawing back again.

"You looked so beautiful," he murmurs, nose brushing against yours. "I never thought you'd give me the time of day."

You can't help but smile. "I knew I'd regret it if I didn't."

It feels like the two of you are on that balcony for the whole of the evening, the blissful joy of finally admitting your feelings - and having them reflected like a mirror in him - taking precedence over all the celebrating going on below you.

Eventually, however, you must return. You walk back to the crowd and one of your good friends gives you a look like she knows exactly where you just were. A blush rises to your cheeks, but when Javi loops a casual, more-than-friendly arm around your waist, you find you don't care all that much about what your friends think.

#javier pena x reader #female reader #javier pena x female reader #javier pena fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos fanfic #kingofkingdom

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anchoviesinthenightsky · 3 years

Note

Okay real talk for a sec, loving the little mermaid au. Honestly anything I see of fandom Luca just…isn’t fun, they just flanderized him, he ends up not knowing anything and is empty headed. Idk I can’t explain it, but I’m just loving these Luca aus cause he actually feels like Luca.

First of all, thank you. I'm so glad you're enjoying the aus. I have so much fun talking with people about them. I feel like a lot of the credit goes to the anons, who come up with such interesting ideas, and who have so much passion and enthusiasm and joy for those ideas. And I'm so grateful that get to respond to that with my own thoughts.

In terms of the rest of what you mentioned, I have to say that I haven't actually noticed that from the blogs I follow. But I definitely think Luca definitely suffers from main character syndrome, where it's very easy to overlook his character and insert whatever you feel like into him.

To some degree, that makes him a really flexible character to put into aus, and you can do a lot of different things with him. But that also means it's easy to make him kind of bland.

And to be fair, sometimes Luca being empty headed can be really funny, right? Like, for a joke or a head cannon! Even thinking about the movie, there's that one scene where Giulia and Alberto are fighting. and Luca is just like o_o and it's really funny!

I could also see how that could get frustrating if that's all you're seeing out of Luca (that could also mean you might need to follow some new blogs to get some more variety!)

Switching gears a little bit here, to talk more about writing and writing Luca specifically --

to be honest with you, from the writer perspective, I found Luca to be incredibly difficult character to write. I know he doesn't really seem that way, but I had a lot of conversations with friends while I was working on my longfic, where we just talked about Luca as a character for hours, and I did several rewatches of the film where I just sort of focused in on him. How he reacts to things, what he tends to talk about, his body language etc. And it just took a while to get his character down to a place that I liked

And I also want to acknowledge that like.. I'm an older fandom person, who's taken professional writing workshops and who has writing published. I've spent the better part of the last ten years studying and thinking about writing craft. And Luca was hard to figure out!! I can totally see how other writers could look at Luca and feel like he's kind of bland and just want to use him as an audience projection kind of character, because that was how I felt for a good while too. I was really resistant in trying to understand Luca, because I just wanted to focus in on Alberto, who has some very obvious and interesting conflicts to play with.

That said, I really love writing Luca now. I feel like he's a fun, complex character to write. And, in the off chance that another writer/ creator sees this post and have felt a similar frustration with writing Luca--

These are some things that I try to keep in mind while writing him:

- Luca is incredibly curious. And he's willing to put himself at risk to pursue his curiosity (think about his first trips to the surface!)

- he's willing to do a lot for his friends, including risking his life and safety for them. He does it when he grabs Alberto from the net, and he also does it when he goes back for Giulia.

- related to that, I also feel like he's someone who's more willing to stand up for his friends than to stand up for himself.

- he's kind of impulsive (going to the surface, deciding to race alone)

- he's got a complicated relationship with his parents. They clearly love and care for him a lot, but sometimes go too far in trying to protect him. For Luca, he still loves them obviously. but I'm sure he deals with some trust issues, he might be slow to share important information with them, he might think about their reactions to something before he tells them, but also he enjoys spending time with them. their home is a place where he probably feels comfort/love/nostalgia for the most part. it's... complicated

- he experiences anxious thoughts. sometimes when I write him I give him an anxiety disorder (bc i have anxiety), but either way. Luca deals with thoughts that make him overly cautious and less confident. When I'm writing Luca, I'm also often thinking about what his inner monologue looks like. Where is he holding himself back? What incorrect assumptions has he made about others or himself? (In my fic one of those thoughts is "I don't deserve to prioritize my needs/ I can push aside my needs for others/ others needs are more important than my own." Even if I don't voice that thought out loud, you can see it in a lot of Luca's actions, like accepting to fake date two people at once even though both fake relationships put him in an awkward position)

- He gained confidence by the end of the movie, but that's likely something that fluctuates after the events of the movie

- He's someone caught between two worlds. That can cause of feeling of disconnect or like he doesn't truly belong anywhere.

Soooo yeah! I hope that list is a useful resource to some of you, and a decent answer to your ask. I know it was probably a longer response than you were expecting, but I have a lot of thoughts about Luca and writing and writing Luca lol. And I'm also really glad that you've been enjoying the aus! :)

#ask box #long post #i tried to keep this conversation more on the writing of Luca rather than on people who write Luca & hopefully that distinction came across #i think it's fair to talk about different depictions of a character and the pros/cons to them #and i tried to keep this pretty tight to my experiences writing Lcua #and also the last thing i want to do is make any fan creator feel bad so #i also want to say that if you /do/ write luca as sort of an audience fill in-- that's totally fine. write what who enjoy! /genuine #and you will (and likely already do) have an audience who loves it!#:)

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brown-bi-beautiful · 4 years

Text

Give Me Some Sugar

Steve Rogers AU

Series Masterlist

Sugardaddy! Steve Rogers x Sugarbaby! Reader.

Summary: When young Y/n gets fired from one of her jobs she struggles to make enough money for college loans and Bills, that’s when she meets Steve. What Steve is looking for isn’t exactly a relationship, he just wants someone to look pretty in his arms and take care of his needs without asking many questions about his job.

Series Warnings: Salty reader, age gap, Sugardaddy, and Sugarbaby relationship and all the chaos that comes with it, SMUT (Obviously. Don’t try to tell me you didn’t see that coming, Karen.), asshole people (Yup that’s a warning.), language more will be added later to the chapters.

Characters (as per the chapter): Y/n (Duh), Steve Rogers (Duh again), Sharon Carter, Wanda Maximoff, Lisa (OFC)

Words: 6.1k (Yeah I know right? I got a little carried away.)

Chapter Warning: Language, a little bit of bad description of Law studies (There’s gonna be more in coming chapters. I’m not a law student so I don’t know much about it.)

CHAPTER TWO

Third Person POV

The next morning when y/n woke up her head felt like her brain was about to burst inside. She never liked this part of drinking alcohol, the hangover, wished there was just a skip button on it. As the bile rose to her throat she jumped out of her bed and rushed to the bathroom in the hall ignoring the eyes of her sister and her family. Why are they still here, don’t they have jobs and school and stuff?

She knelt down and hurled over the toilet seat, emptying her stomach and throwing up anything she ate yesterday. She scrunched up her nose when some of the vomit stuck to her hair and some of it on the toilet seat. Oh, how she wished Wanda or Sharon were here to hold her hair.

“Are you pregnant?” Lisa asked as she stood on the door leaning against the frame.

“What!? NO, I’m just hungover, if you don’t remember it was my birthday-” Y/n started saying but before she could complete her sentence another wave came over. “Yesterday.” She completed wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Y/n turned a little only to see her sister standing there giving her a disgusted look. “What? Like you never threw up?”

“Yeah whatever, there’s naproxen in the cabinet under the sink. And you’re cleaning that up, I’m not cleaning after your shit.” She said and walked out of the bathroom making the girl sitting in front of the toilet groan. “Bitch.” Y/n muttered before getting up and cleaning the mess she made on the toilet seat. She bent down the sink and took out the pills and popped two of them in her mouth.

By the time she got out of the bathroom the living room was empty. She looked around to see where the people sitting here 15 minutes ago went but there was no sign. Y/n sighed out in relief that they were already gone, She was not in the mood to deal with Lisa’s three rugrats and sleazy husband anyway.

Her head still felt like someone was banging drums inside so she quickly took out her phone and called off from work and decided to take a nap. She was too tired to even take a shower. Y/n knew it was gross but her bed was calling out for her so without thinking twice she jumped on it and dozed off to sleep.

The next time when y/n woke up it was 2 in the afternoon, her head felt less heavy. She could finally think straight without having a huge migraine. The first thought that bounced in that little head of hers was the blond man from last night, a frown instantly took place on her lips. Y/n still couldn’t get over the fact that he rejected her last night, but then he paid for her drink, which reminded her that she had to pay him back somehow, she had no idea how but somehow.

One thing that people love to do when they are home alone is taking long hot showers so that’s what she did. Standing there under the stream of the hot water she let it wash away every little strain or ache in her muscles. She took a long shower, shaving and scrubbing every inch of her body. She thought It’s my day off so why not invest it in pampering myself. After the shower y/n called Sharon and she said they took the day off too, ‘hangover doesn’t show mercy to no one.’ were Sharon’s words. So she quickly got dressed in simple jeans and a shirt and took a bus to their place.

Y/n opened the door with the extra key that she had. The scene inside was nothing new to the girl, both her best friends were sprawled over each corner of the couch, a big bowl of popcorn between them, and some old horror movie was playing on the TV.......on mute. As y/n got inside the door shut closed behind her louder than she expected making them both wince.

“Don’t be so loud, woman.” Wanda glared. Y/n had the urge to laugh at their condition, they looked worse than she did this morning. Sharon was even wearing sunglasses inside. “I’m never drinking ever again.” She stated in a gruff voice.

“Well, that’s what you said the last time you got drunk but here you are again, repeating the circle,” Y/n said taking her shoes off and sitting between them. “Did you guys even had real lunch?” She asked pointing at the ball of popcorn.

“What are you talking about? Popcorn is real lunch.” Wanda said grabbing a handful and stuffing it in her mouth.

“Well there’s corn and there’s the butter I think that’s enough real lunch for two people who are too tired to get up,” Sharon said.

“OK, I was thinking about making you guys something but if you don’t want-”

“Please, y/n, we are so hungry,” Sharon said cutting her off mid-sentence. She got up with a chuckle. “What do you guys want?” Y/n asked as she walked toward the kitchen.

“Anything with lots of cheese in it,” Wanda replied and y/n proceeded to make them that one simple dish that never disappoints her, cream cheese chicken. She was in the middle of roasting some veggies to eat with the chicken when she heard Wanda say. “Oh my god, I’m changing the channel, what’s the point of being a fucking ghost if you’re just gonna kill people with guns.” Her comment made her laugh out loud. Y/n was happy that she had them in her life. Everything would be perfect right now if that asshole Ed hadn’t fired her, she would be happily walking out of college and going to the restaurant but here she was making lunch for her friends, not that she minds it. She’s just never been fired from a job before, it was a first and it stings like a bitch. Just like she’s never been rejected before either, guess turning 21 comes with a lot of firsts.

Y/n spent the rest of the evening with her friends and then took a bus home at the same time that she did every day. She was not ready to tell her sister that she got fired from the restaurant, Lisa would kick her out in an instant. She had to find another job before telling her.

*******

The next morning her life fell back into everyday routine. Waking up at 5, fighting with her sister’s husband for the shower, taking the shower, wearing SFW clothes, going to the cafe at 6. It was Sunday and y/n didn’t have any class today so she could take some extra shifts too which was so good for her right now. Her hands worked like a machine when she was in this cafe like they had a mind of their own. It was something she has been doing for two years now so she was pretty damn perfect in it. She could do it constantly with closed eyes for hours without stopping even for a second.

But when she heard a familiar voice say “One double espresso to go.” Her whole body froze. She looked up and there he was, standing in all his glory, her handsome stranger, with wet hair and a shirt which fitted him like a condom. He looked more handsome in the morning as if that was even possible. He looked satisfied at the girl’s reaction then he looked down at his watch and said. “Can I get a double espresso to go please, Ms-” he took a pause looking down at her name tag. “Y/n, I’m getting late for a meeting.”

“Oh, right I’m sorry.” She quickly came out from her haze and started making his coffee. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder things like, Why is he acting like he doesn’t know me? like he didn’t dance with me that night like I didn’t almost give him a striptease. Like he didn’t......reject me. “What name do you want on the cup?” You asked sweetly.

“Steve Rogers.” He simply answered and she quickly looked up.

“Steve Rogers? You’re Steve Rogers?” Before she could help herself the words left her with a surprised tone to it. She has been serving him coffee for two years now, just not to him but to a middle-aged man who was probably a couple years older than the man standing in front of her, who she now assumed was probably his secretary. She has heard that name a couple times before other than that but she had no idea that what it is that he does, just that he’s some hotshot businessman.

Wow, never in her life she would have guessed that some hot man that she ground on in a club on Saturday night would turn out to be a big businessman. Life shows some weird twists and turns but this was definitely one of the biggest and weirdest in hers.

“Yes, that would be me, is there a problem with that?” He asked with a small smile or smirk or whatever it was.

“Oh, no, no. Sorry. There’s nothing, no problem at all. Everything is just a-okay.” she bit her tongue when she realized she was probably babbling. God why are you getting so nervous, he’s just asking for a coffee, not sex. This is what you do for a living remember. She gave herself a talk as she continued making his coffee. She cleared her throat and begged for her professional side to kick in before saying. “That would be $2.75.” She said with a smile as she handed him the coffee and he handed her a 100 dollar bill in return. “I’m so sorry, sir. But we can’t provide you change at this hour of the morning.”

“It’s okay. Keep the change.” He replied and she had to make sure she heard him right and she wasn’t hearing things. She tried not to let the shocked look display on her face.

“I’m sorry, sir. What?.”

“I said, keep the change, Ms. Y/n. It's your tip.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Rogers, but I can’t take 97 dollars tip for just a cup of coffee.”

“Well, Ms.Y/n. You don’t have any change, I don’t have any change, I don’t see a third option here.” He said it like 100 dollars doesn’t mean shit to him, that’s her income of two weeks minus the tips in this cafe

“We accept pay-pal too,” Y/n said pointing at the QR code over her counter.

“Well, that’s just too bad because I didn’t bring my phone today. I guess you just have to keep it, Miss.” He said and turned to leave but she stopped him, determined to know why was he acting like he hasn’t met her before.

“Ste- Mr. Rogers, You didn't have to pay for us that night, I don’t know how to pay you back,” Y/n said and Steve looked at her with a confused frown on his face, like he had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’m sorry?” He asked and Y/n felt the pang of disappointment in her heart. He wasn’t acting, he actually didn’t remember her. Not did he just reject her, he even forgot her. Either that or he was just a really good actor. Y/n felt embarrassed for even thinking that someone like him would ever be interested in her. He must have thousand of girls falling at his feet, why the fuck would he give a damn about a girl who he danced with for 15 minutes on a Saturday night, who was probably too young for him anyway. But she already said it so there was no taking it back now.

“You don’t remember? We met at 1 Oak the night before yesterday.” Y/n said in hope that he would remember it.

“Oh, right, I do remember now. You were wearing a red dress.” He said as he looked down at her attire making her want to hide under the table in shame. “You are looking very different.” He added and y/n looked down at her white button-up and black slacks and that maroon apron that she wore every day, her hair up in a high messy pony and some of it was framing her face, she looked nothing like she did that night.

“Ya, that was me. I was saying that you didn’t have to pay for our drinks. I want to pay you back.”

“Oh, it was nothing. You don’t have to pay me back.”

“But-”

“Ms. Y/n, I said it was nothing now if you don’t mind I’m getting late for my meeting.” And with that, he walked out of the cafe not even turning to give her a second glance.

Nothing!? It was nothing? Money was nothing to rich people? Who does he think he is? Just because he is some rich businessman does not mean he can treat everyone like a charity case. She worked hard for a living, she has self-respect, she does not accept a 100 dollar tip from some. Especially not someone who she danced with in a local club.

“Bullshit.” said a voice and Y/n quickly remembered it as the old sweet lady’s who worked with her and quickly turned around.

“Sorry, Ruth?” Y/n asked the 70-year-old woman with a confused smile on her face.

“He just bullshited you for 5 minutes straight to your face,” Ruth replied as she went back to her task of cleaning the cups on the counter beside Y/n’s.

“I don’t get it, what are you talking about?” Y/n asked as she started making a latte for her next customer. “Is it okay if I use whole milk, sir? You’re not Lactose intolerant right?” Y/n asked the customer with a sweet smile on her face which she always has when she talks to the customers even though most of it was fake.

“I wouldn’t mind if you used petrol in it.” He said with a smirk and she wanted to bang her head on the counter at his bad attempt of flirting but she kept the smile intact.

“I don’t think that would be healthy for you, sir.” She replied and continued making him Latte. When she handed him his drink and he went away, she kept the money in her jar and turned to Ruth.

“What were you saying, Ruth?” Y/n raised her eyebrow with curiosity.

“I was saying those rich people are big ass liars.”

“Why would you say that?” Y/n frowned at the older woman.

“That man, Steve Rogers, he came here yesterday, asking of you. When I said that you took the day off he went away without even getting a coffee.” Ruth said and the younger woman’s eyes widen with a little shock. He remembers her? Then why was he acting like he didn’t?

“Wait, asking for me as in by my name? He knew my name?” Y/n asked in a surprised voice.

“No, he came up to me and said where’s the hot chick you work with......Of course, he knew your name.” Ruth said sarcastically and Y/n doesn’t know why but she felt relief wash through her whole body. So he does remember her. Y/n couldn’t help the smile that formed on her lips. But wait how did he know her name? She didn’t tell him that night did she? To be honest she can’t really remember if she did. She can’t really remember anything but his hands on her body, that masculine smell of his, how he felt against her. How his hard but firm chest felt pressed against her back. And now she’s turned on again. Shit.

She couldn’t help but smirk as an idea popped in her head, it probably wasn’t a good one but it was an Idea.

“Oh, two can play a game, Mr. Rogers.” She muttered under her breath as she bit her lip and went back to do her job. The rest of the day pretty much mundane. She had a study group till late that evening so she couldn’t meet her friends today, she wanted to meet them and tell them everything about the man but she was too tired after the study group so she just went home instead. She ignored her sister when she asked what was she doing home so early and went straight to her room deciding to go back for dinner when everyone is asleep.

Y/n have to admit, she was pretty excited for tomorrow. Even though she had no idea if he would even show up tomorrow, maybe he will ask his secretary to bring him coffee again, maybe it will be like the last two years again. Maybe he will actually forget her by the next time. But with that little hope of meeting him again tomorrow, she went to sleep with a stupid smile on her face, food wasn’t even a priority anymore.

*******

The next morning Y/n tried her best to look good and presentable without wearing something that was not safe for the work environment. She can’t remember the last time she felt so excited to go to work. Probably when she first started dating Brock, God he was so sweet the first few months why did he have to turn into an asshole. Anyway, she shouldn’t be thinking about him right now.

She had played out every single possible scenario in her head since last night, even now as she stands in front of the mirror she practices her seductive smirk. She was wearing her purple shirt which Wanda said looked really good on her and her jeans was a little tighter than usual, her hair was tied up in a high pony, a few curls sticking out and framing the soft outline of her face, she even applied a little more make up than usual. Although she hated the fact that she was putting so much effort into her looks for a guy who she wasn’t even sure is going to show up.

Her heart fluttered as she thought again of what Ruth had told her yesterday. He came to the cafe and asked for her and left when she wasn’t there. That could mean that he went to the cafe to meet her, coffee is just an alibi, right? She has been serving his coffee to his secretary for two years now and now suddenly he wants to come to the cafe and buy his coffee himself? Someone might think that he’s doing that just so he could see her.

She looked at the mirror and stared at her face, her cheeks were flushed, her lips were plumper because she has been biting on them out of excitement. She couldn’t help but think, was she good enough? Was she good enough for a guy to want her like that? Her thoughts were broken by the sound of her sister yelling.

“I swear to god, Malcolm, come back here and brush your teeth,” Y/n swear she has never heard that woman talking sweetly to someone. What were they doing up at 6 anyway?

Without wasting her time anymore Y/n grabbed her college bag and rushed out of her room.

“Aunt, Y/n.” A voice made her jump as two little arms wrapped around her legs and she looked down at her favorite niece. And less than 2 seconds later she was surrounded by all three of them, Malcolm was hiding behind her to get away from his mother.

“Hey, babies.” She smiled and knelt down and gave all of them a hug. Even though they could be too much sometimes but she still loved them.

“Are you not gonna have to breakfast with us?” Carl, who was 7 and the oldest of them asked her with a pout.

“No, sweetie, I’m so sorry but I’m getting late for the cafe, but I promise I’ll try to have dinner with you okay?” Lisa might hate her but she never stops her from interacting with her kids. “Now give Aunt Y/n a kiss and let her go to work.”

When Y/n reached the cafe she looked down at her watch and saw that she was a little late. She hoped to god that Steve hasn’t already come and left. She quickly entered through the back door and wore her apron before rushing out to her counter. “You’re 15 minutes late, Y/n. But just because I’m a good friend I’m not putting it up on the chart.”

“Thank you so much, Rick. You’re a lovely friend.” Y/n said giving a flying kiss to the younger boy.

“Does that mean-”

“No it does not mean I’ll go on a date with you, you’re still a minor.” She replied as she quickly got to work and heard a groan coming from the young boy who muttered ‘God, I can’t wait to turn 18.’

“Hey, Ruth. Did he come yet?” Y/n asked curiously.

“Who? Sam Rogers? No.” She said making the younger woman sigh out in relief. She couldn’t let all your hard work go to vain like this.

“By the way his name’s Steve,” Y/n replied.

“Yeah, honey. I know, I just like to pretend that I forgot a handsome man’s name.” Ruth said making Y/n laugh a little. “Is that why you dressed up today?” Y/n didn’t realize that she would notice but she did which made her blush

“Yeah, is it bad?” She asked taking a step back so Ruth could take a good look at her whole outfit.

“What? No, you look lovely.” Ruth said.

“Did you dress up for me?”

“No, Rick. Shut up and get back to work. Listen, Ruth, if he comes back today, I need your help, please.”

*******

Steve felt ridiculous. For an hour, an hour he has been walking around that street thinking if he should go in or not. More than half of his brain was telling him to just go back to his office and ask Phil to bring him coffee. He already messed it all up yesterday so there was no chance that she would want to see his face again. He looked at his watch and it was already 10 o clock. Fuck, he has an important meeting at 10:30, what the hell is he even doing here?

“Fuck it.” He muttered under his breath and walked inside the cafe but there was no sign of her. He walked up to her counter where the old lady from the day before stood. “Where’s Y/n?” He asked with authority in his voice.

“Sorry, Son. She’s not here today.” The old lady said who’s name he figured out as Ruth by her name tag. Waste of time, that’s what this whole thing was. He wasted more than an hour walking around this cafe and now she’s not even here, just great. “Thanks.” He said and turn to leave.

“You don’t want coffee?” Ruth asked and he just shook his head before walking out.

He was about to cross the road when a voice stopped him. “You didn’t order anything.” He turned around and there she was, leaning against the wall of the cafe, her arms were crossed over her chest as she stated the obvious. A smirk made its way on Steve’s face and tried to hide it as she walked over to him. She looked so beautiful, so pretty and innocent, it was like she was asking him to bend her over and take her in the middle of the street. Y/n couldn’t help but smirk in victory, the prey has fallen into the trap, little did she know that who was the prey in this situation. She grinned at the man in front of her and said. “Generally when people walk into a cafe they order something.”

“What I wanted wasn’t in there, Ms.Y/n.” He said with a smirk.

“Yeah? And what is it that you want, Mr. um mm....what was it again?” She pretended to try to remember his name causing him to raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t remember my name?” He asked crossing his arms across his chest and walked closer to her.

“No, in fact, I don’t think I remember meeting you, have we met before?” She asked trying to act serious but she couldn’t help the smile forming on her lip. He walked closer trying to intimidate her but she refused to let him win. As they stood there chest to chest in the middle of the street, she looked up at him due to the height difference.

“What do you think you’re doing, Ms. Y/n?” Steve asked in a low whisper. Steve knew what she was trying to do, and she knew that Steve knew what she was trying to do but she was not going to back out now.

“Giving you a taste of your own medicine, Mr. Rogers.” She whispered back.

“Oh, so now you remember my name?” He asked making her bite her tongue at her mistake.

“Yeah, I do now.”

“You know, it's a good thing you’re here, I was about to think you’re one of those girls who don’t take their job seriously.” He said and his hand begged for him to just grab her, feel her soft skin against his rough hands, but he didn’t want to freak her out.

“Oh, I take my job very seriously, Mr. Rogers. But you know what I take even more seriously? Someone lying to me.” Y/n said with a smirk and took in his reaction.

“Yeah, I was kinda hoping that wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Why did you do that in the first place?” She asked curiously and a frown replaced her smirk.

“I accept it was wrong for me to do that, but I went in there to tell you something and then I saw you and somehow I ended up lying,” Steve admitted the truth there was a small pause as he waited for her reaction, his heart almost melted and his pants become tighter as she gave him that signature smile, that could make any man fall on his knees and eat out of her hands.

“What was it that you wanted to tell me?”

“I want to go on a date with you.” He said in a monotone which made her raise an eyebrow. Is that how rich people ask each other on a date?

“Huh? That’s not how you ask someone on a date, Mr. Rogers. Let’s try that again.” She said as she tried very hard to not shrink under his gaze. There was something in his eyes that she couldn’t just figure out. Something that made her want to let him manhandle her, let him throw her on a bed, and do things to her. There was the authority behind his gaze, something that she didn’t know turned her on until now.

“I am not asking. I am telling you that I want to go on a date with you, now the question is if you wanna go or not.” He said with the same authority that made her week on her knees.

“Let me think......I get off from college at 4, then I have a study group till 6 and then, I think I’m free after that.” She said biting her lips.

“Be ready at 8, I’ll send my driver to pick you up. Save your number in it.” He handed her his phone and she didn’t think twice before saving her number in it.

“See you at 8.” She said with a smirk and went back inside but not without swaying her hips and giving him a show of what he can have if he plays nice.

*******

She could easily spot the soft ginger head of her best friend as she walked down the corridor of her college. Y/n couldn’t help her excitement as she rushed over to the ginger head. “Wanda!” She exclaimed making the said woman jump. She held out her hands to grab her to steady herself, people were giving her looks. “Easy, woman. What happened?” Wanda asked with amusement.

“Where’s Sharon? I wanna tell you guys something.”

“She already had her class today. What is it?”

“You won’t believe what happened today.”

“Well, now I want to hear it. Did you punched your sister’s husband like I suggested you?”

“NO, although I think I should. I’ll tell you and Sharon together OK. I’m getting late for my study group right now. I’ll see you as soon as I can.”

“Come on, don’t leave me on a cliffhanger,” Wanda called out as Y/n walked down the corridor to the library.

She couldn’t help the smile that was spread on her face the rest of the day, her friends in the study group kept giving her weird eyes until one of them got fed up and asked her “Did you get laid?”

“What? NO!” Y/n said as all the eyes around the table were on her. ‘Although I hope I would.’ She left the little detail to herself.

“Well then focus, you’re kinda our only hope this semester, the new criminal justice professor sucks ass.” Y/n nodded and started explaining the topics of capital punishment to her friends.

Y/n felt her phone vibrating in her pocket and she gave an apologetic look to her friend and picked up her phone to see there was a message from an unknown number. Her heart fluttered slightly as she already knew who it was messaging her.

‘Send me your address- Steve.’ The message simply read and she quickly typed in her address before putting her phone back in her jeans pocket without waiting for a reply.

Y/n found herself standing in front of her dresser in her bra and panties that evening biting her nails, she still hasn’t decided what she’s going to wear. Her hair and make-up were done already but she had no idea what she’s gonna wear. She had no idea where Steve was taking her so she couldn’t decide if to wear a dress or to wear jeans. She didn’t want to be underdressed but at the same time, she didn’t want to be overdressed either.

Steve Rogers didn’t look like the guy to take a girl somewhere cheap on a date so she was definitely counting on something fancy. She only had one good heel that she hasn’t worn yet so she has to decide on something that would go well with it. Choosing her major after graduating high school was definitely easier than this.

“Are you going out?” Lisa asked standing on the door frame and Y/n nodded her head without looking back at her. “Are you coming back tonight?” She asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I come back?”

“I don’t know. I just thought-”

“That just because I’m going out I’m gonna sleep with some guy? Honestly Lisa my personal life is none of your damn business.”

“Oh please, I’m too busy to give a fuck about your personal life anyway. Just don’t bring any guy home, I don’t wanna explain to my kids that what’s a strange guy doing in Aunt Y/n’s room.” The older girl said accusingly and that made Y/n’s blood boil.

“What are you talking about? Have I ever brought anyone back here before?” Y/n asked crossing her arms across her chest in a defensive manner.

“Oh, that doesn’t matter because you give me surprises every day, sweetheart.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Y/n almost shouted at her sister. She couldn’t take her bitchiness anymore.

“Do not use that tone with me in my fucking house. And you know well what it means when the hell were you going to tell me that you were fucking fired.” Lisa yelled back. Y/n knew that the kids and Martin were probably standing outside right now listening to them but at that moment she didn’t give a damn.

“I was going to tell you okay. And like I said my personal life is none of your damn business. and don’t give me that ‘my house’ bullshit, I pay you the rent, I’m not living on your money.”

“Well you will be now, wouldn’t you? Because you got fucking fired.”

“You know what? I’ve had up to here with you.” Y/n said leveling her hand above her head. “I’m gonna move out tomorrow from this shithole.”

“Oh yeah? And go where? Live with that date of yours? And how gonna pay him in return? By sucking his cock?” Lisa asks and Y/n looked at her with a disgusted look on her face.

“What is wrong with you, your children are outside.”

“Let them be, let them know what a fucking whore their aunt is,” Lisa said.

“Enough is enough, Lisa. You don’t have to worry about rent anymore, I’ll move out tomorrow, I’ll rather live on the fucking street but here.” Y/n quickly put on her maroon dress which was hanging right in the middle of her closet and pulled on her heel boots before grabbing her boots and shoving her way out of the house. She looked down at her watch to see she was right on time, it was 8 o clock. Your pick-up must be waiting for you outside.

When you walked out you were expecting a uber or an SUV, hell maybe even a Range Rover but what she definitely wasn’t expecting was a Matt black Mercedes-Maybach. It looked too expensive to even stand in that cheap neighborhood that you lived in, You quickly looked down at yourself and suddenly felt unworthy to sit in that car. If this was just your pick up then you can only imagine what your date’s gonna be.

You were shocked but there was someone who was even more shocked than you, Lisa. When you looked back at her her face was priceless. You wanted to take a picture but then you realized you probably looked the same right now.

“Ma’am, are you Ms.Y/s/n?” asked a man who stepped out of the driver seat wearing a gray suit.

“Yes. That would be me.” Y/n answered trying to look not too shocked.

“I am Pete. Mr. Roger’s driver, I’m here to pick you up for a date.” wow even the driver was dressed better than her. “Ma’am.” He opened the back door and gestured for her to get inside, Y/n nodded at him with a smile before getting in.

The fight with her sister wasn’t even crossing her thoughts anymore. The only thought she had right now was, was she underdressed. Sure she wasn’t wearing a cheap one, and it looks good on her too but was it good enough for Steve’s status. The maroon dress had a halter neckline and was off-shoulder and it gave a nice complexion to her bare collar bone and the upper part of her chest. The whole dress was made of lace, the upper portion hugged her body tightly and the skirt of the dress frilled around her, The hem reached just above the knee.

“Tell me, Mr. Pete, where is it that we are going?”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am but I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.” He said and you pouted.

“But you can give me a hint right?”

“No can do, ma’am.”

“At least tell me if I’m underdressed or not.”

“I’m afraid that’s not my place to say, ma’am.”

“Are you a robot, Pete? Do you only read commands?” You asked and this one made him laugh a little.

“No, ma’am. I can assure you that I’m very human.”

“Please stop calling me ma’am, Pete, you’re making me feel old.”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

The rest of the ride went rather silently. Pete asked her if she wanted to listen to any music and she politely said she’s fine with anything he wanted to hear. When Pete finally stopped the car she looked around and realized they were in the poshest area of New York right now. When Pete ‘helped’ her get out of the car even though she said she can do it herself, She had to physically restrain her jaw from falling on the floor. Here she stood in front of one of the tallest buildings she has or probably will ever see. It was a french restaurant she couldn’t even pronounce the name of, she has heard about it a few times but she never even thought she would ever go in.

She quickly looked down at herself and thought, Yup, she’s definitely underdressed. Oh, she wishes she had worn that rose gold dress of hers. She walked up to the woman that stood in her uniform just outside the door.

“I’m here to meet someone, the reservation’s under Rogers.”

“Yes, Ma’am, Mr. Rogers is waiting for you, please follow me.” The woman said with a bright smile and lead her to the elevator. As she got inside and the elevator door closed, she realized that there was no backing out now. so she sighed out and tried to relax.

Here goes nothing.

*******

CHAPTER THREE

A/N: Like if you like the chapter if there’s something you didn’t like feel free to tell me in the comments or in the asks, If you want to be tagged send me and ask.

Taglist:

@godspeedlover

@captainchrisstan

@organisationiskey-posts

@literaturefeen

#Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #sugardaddy steve #sugardaddy! steve rogers #sugardaddy steve x sugarbaby reader #give me some sugar #Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader #give me some sugar chapter two #steve rogers smut

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geniusgub · 3 years

Text

north//chapter fourteen

genre: angst

pairing: season twelve spencer reid x female oc

warnings: description of physical assault, prison, just all of the bad prison arc stuff

word count: 4.7k

summary: spencer and amelia feel the effects of being forcibly separated and it impacts them in similar ways.

honestly, spencer’s pov in this chapter is one of my favorite things i’ve ever written so i hope everyone enjoys it <3

AMELIA

"Come on! You don't even have to do anything! Just go and clean up. We'll go with you and help!" Yaz pokes my shoulder incessantly, trying to get a reaction out of me. But I just keep my eyes on the tv in front of me, bundled up under a blanket.

"Lia," Michael sighs and slings his arm over my shoulder. I want nothing more than to shove it off. “It's been like, three months since-"

I'm quick to speak up to correct him. "Two and a half."

Michael and Quinn exchange a tense look. "Okay," Quinn nods, "two and a half months. It's been two and a half months since you've drawn, or painted, or sketched, or done anything even related to art. We know you're upset about Spencer but you can't let yourself be so upset. You need to find something that's gonna bring you happiness, and art has always done that."

"I don't wanna," I answer like a stubborn child, an answer that any of my siblings would have given me about things like going to bed early or eating vegetables. I pull the blanket up to my chin and stroke my thumb across my newest tattoo, tucked away and out of the sights of my nosy, annoying friends.

Frankie turns and shushes Quinn. "Like I said, Lia, why don't we go and just clean up your studio? We can drive over and just clean up? That's it. You don't have to do a photoshoot or create anything new. Just clean. Sound good? An hour tops."

I look around the faces of my expecting friends and tighten my jaw. I try to steal Spencer's skills and profile what their ulterior motives could be. They all hated Spencer before meeting him, and even after they met him, they weren't completely fond of him. So why are they trying so hard to get me to feel better? Why does it feel like they’re trying to get me to forget about my boyfriend in prison? I should be worrying about him every second of my day instead of prancing around town, cleaning up my studio, and going about my life as if Spencer isn’t suffering. But I’m sure they mean well. And I’m absolutely positive that my legs are sore from sleeping on the couch and from being in that same position all day.

"Fine," I concede, and they all silently cheer. "But I'm driving myself."

The drive to my studio is nearly insufferable. It’s silent and overwhelmed with a tension that I created but can’t seem to let go. The sights around me are familiar but blurry, like I can’t even tell which stores are which without someone in my passenger seat spitting out fact after fact after fact as I drive. I can’t drive down the street and try to recall all the good times and all the dates and all the drunken stumbles back home with the love of my life on my arm. It’s far too painful to constantly remember that I can’t go home and see Spencer and I can’t spend hours on the phone with him like I do when he is away on a case. I can’t see him.

When I arrive at my studio, I realize why they were so insistent that I come out to clean up. I can't remember the last time I was actually in here to work but it's an absolute mess. There are canvases everywhere, bottles and tubes of paint on the floor, splashes and splatters of paint on the walls, brushes everywhere, crumbled up sketches in the trash, and way more. The studio needs much love and I guess now is the time to give it.

Michael immediately turns on music and everyone gets to work, but I don't. I pick up an empty tube of yellow paint and squeeze it in my palm. My head is starting to pound and I can't even stop it as tears start to fall down my cheeks. Who knew that one person could produce so many tears?

Spencer loved when I wore yellow. I have this one short, backless dress that he loved. He especially loved that he had easy access to my skin, always tracing shapes on my back and murmuring about how soft my skin is. He always said that he loved the way the yellow complimented my blonde hair and how it contrasted against my colorful tattoos. He even went as far as to buy me another yellow dress for my birthday last year.

And he loved when I used yellow in my paintings too. One time, I sent him a picture of a piece I was working on and he emailed back a book about how the use of yellow paint expressed the happiness of the piece or something like that. He raved about a painting I did of the sun and how my use of yellow wasn’t scientifically accurate, but it was beautiful nonetheless.

"Amelia?" Quinn speaks but I don't look at her. My cheeks are wet with tears that I barely noticed and my hands are clutching the tube of paint so tightly that it would burst if it were full. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. If we-"

"I'm gonna go," I say hastily, clutching the empty tube in my hand as I breeze out of the studio, leaving my bewildered friends to either clean or leave. They know the way out and they know where the keys are. They don’t need me.

I'm wandering into the bullpen like it's second nature because, at this point, it basically is. Nobody on the team bothers to say anything to me. They never do. They're too worried I'll blow up at them or start crying. I don't blame them.

I rap my knuckles against Dave's door and wait for him to shout for me to come in, and when he does, I enter slowly. He gives me a small, pitiful smile as I move in front of his desk. I set the empty yellow paint tube in front of him and then sit down, bringing my knees to my chest.

Dave looks down at the tube, his eyebrows furrowing. "Paint? What's this?"

I blink and it forces tears out of my eyes. "I don't know how to live without Spencer."

Dave leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over my chest. He studies me, profiles me. I hate when Spencer did that. He always got this look on his face when he profiled me, but Dave has a better poker face. "And paint has something to do with that?"

"I just went to my studio with my friends and I finished off all this paint and there were brushes all over the floor and-" tears start pouring down my cheeks again, wetting my neck and the neckline of my sweater. "I came home the other day and I'd left the balcony door open. How stupid. I'm forgetting to lock my doors just because my boyfriend is in p-" I gulp, having to force out the disgusting word, "prison. How fucking stupid. How stupid am I that I can't function without him?"

"You're not stupid," Dave shakes his head. Nothing about his tone or his body language is helpful in the slightest. Nothing and nobody will help. "You two are reliant on each other and that's not a bad thing. I'm sure Boy Genius is always on you about locking your doors and I'm sure he's always giving you statistics on break ins and-"

"He doesn't," I cut him off sharply. "If Spencer's telling me statistics then it's about stars in the sky and how to properly care for my plants so they stay alive longer or just- it's never about things you guys talk about here. It always about things that I'd like. He does it to protect me. He doesn't tell me about serial killers unless I ask, and I only ask when I can see that he had a really hard day at work. It's just me, Dave," I put my forehead to my knees, shoulder shaking as sobs take over my whole body. "I just don't know how to live without him. I don't know how to function without him holding my hand and him calling me to promise he's okay and-- I just can't. I can't do it."

"You did it before you met him," Dave stands from his desk and moves in front of me. He puts his cold hand on my shoulder and it sends a chill down my spine. "You lived a long life before you met him, and you're living now while he's temporarily gone. It's hard, I know, but it's only for a short time."

"I just want him to be okay. That's all I really care about."

///

SPENCER

///

My whole job is about helping people and I've spent my whole life caring for others, mostly my mother. In my professional life, I'm always keeping an eye on my teammates to make sure they aren't in danger. I consider it to be part of my responsibility to look after every single one of my teammates. They're my family and I rely on them to help me too.

I never thought my helpful nature would come back to hurt me. I never thought that trying to help out a friend would come back to hurt me so badly. All I wanted to do was help Delgado. That's it. Calvin is protecting me and the other men in here wouldn't dare to cross him. They know how miserable he could make their experience here and they'd rather beat up someone else than get on Calvin's bad side.

All I did was speak to a correctional officer at chow. That's literally all I did. Yes, I did rat out the gang to the officer for beating up Delgado, but they don't know that. They aren't going to be disciplined for it. I ask the guard for water first as a cover, but clearly, it wasn't enough.

And I've been through a lot in the field. I've been tackled, and punched, and shot, but getting beaten up in a prison is completely different. The guards couldn't care less about the inmates. No matter how much I screamed and pleaded for help, no one came. And even still, there was another inmate outside my cell keeping watch so my attackers could run and not get caught.

I’ve gotten beaten up a lot in my line of work and I can confidently say that this one, in a dirty prison cell, is the worst I’ve received. They held me down against my bed and used a rag to muffle me, but it covered my mouth and nose and it almost suffocated me. They beat me to a pulp, drawing blood on my forehead and almost cracking a rib or two.

It was an unrelenting beating and I eventually succumbed to the pain because I convinced myself that they were going to kill me. I snitched and death would be the consequence. I stopped fighting and just let them take their turns at swiping my face and my chest and my stomach because what could I do? Nothing. As Calvin loves to remind me, the rules are different in here. I don't have a badge and a gun to make the torture stop. I have to endure it or find my own ways to make it stop, and this is a moment to endure it. I'm rendered useless.

The beating only ended when the inmate outside whistled, probably a preplanned signal, because the two others immediately jumped off of me and ran out of my cell. As soon as the towel was pulled away from my face, I gasped in a breath and clutched my aching chest, wincing in pain.

Wilkins came strolling over, peering into my cell. I knew he knew exactly what had just happened by the smirk on his face, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to stroll over instead of running and he didn't yell at the other inmates. He just stared at me and smirked, shaking his head.

"That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut, Snitch."

And those are the words that echoed in my nightmare that night.

I'd rolled over and coughed up a generous amount of blood, grimacing at the taste in my mouth. My body trembled and shook when Wilkins left, even more than when he was silently mocking and watching me. Wilkins doesn’t care to do his job but at least with him standing at my cell door, I had the tiniest bit of protection. But with him gone, the other inmates could come back and finish the job. I shook and stayed rolled over on my side for twenty minutes, staring at the floor and waiting for my cell to close.

When it finally did close, I didn't even let myself sigh of relief. I just fell onto my back again with a groan. I could barely move. It hurt too bad. Everything always hurts nowadays. Things didn't hurt on the outside. Living didn't hurt before I got arrested.

Getting visitors the next morning is not what the ideal situation is. Rising from bed is more of a challenge than it normally is. My body is sore and aching and all I want to do is curl up in my obnoxiously uncomfortable bed, if this slab of metal and a blanket could be considered a bed, and go back to sleep. But I know I'll get in trouble if I don't get up for role call, so I ignore the pain.

I don't dare to look around at anyone on my block as the officer shouts our names, checking to see that we're all here. I just keep my head held high and my hands at my sides and try to show that I couldn't care less about the beating that is causing me so much unrelenting pain.

But then they call our names for a visitor’s session and, of course, my name gets called. I'm usually grateful to get to see anyone from my team, but now? Today? After last night? I'd prefer if they didn't come back until after these bruises were gone. But there's nothing I can do so I allow the guards to put cuffs on me and lead me to the visitor’s room.

As soon as Penelope sees me, she gasps and drops her jaw. She starts to rise to her feet, but I sharpen my glare at her and when she sees my expression, she stays in her seat. When I sit down at the little table and put my cuffed hands in view, like I'm required to, I watch her eyes fill with tears.

"You-" she whispers, "you're hurt. What happened?"

"It's not a big deal," I answer nonchalantly. "It could've been worse." She's not convinced, her jaw dropped as a few tears drip down her cheeks. I keep my jaw tight and as much as I want to comfort her and hug her and promise that as badly as this hurts and as horrible as I'm sure I look, I'll be fine. But there are a million eyes on me right now, including my assailants, and if I show any kind of weakness, a beating like last nights will surely be in store for me again.

Penelope not-so-subtly glances around at the other prisoners around us. "Reid," she leans towards me and tries to lower her voice, "I am going to march right down to the warden’s office and I'm going to-"

"No, you're not," I snap, and my sharp tone of voice makes her jump back, her eyes widening. But for some reason, the look on her face doesn't even make me regret the way I've spoken to her. The look on her face just bothers me more. Why doesn't she get it? Clearly, I have to spell it out for her. "It'll just make worse things. I've got it handled, Garcia."

"Are you sure?" She practically whimpers. "I could-"

"How's everyone else? How's the team? How's my mom?" I deflect from the obvious issue at hand and instead turn the focus to my loved ones. All but the one I wanna hear about.

Penelope starts to nod slowly and she moves her glasses to wipe her cheeks free of tears. "We really miss you. And in our free time, we're working really hard on your-"

"Shh," I try to hold my hands out but the handcuffs rattle, and my eyes dart over to a guard who is alerted by my movement. He gives me a pointed look as if telling me not to do anything stupid. I put my hands back down and look over at a stunned Penelope, leaning in closer. "Don't talk about my case, Garcia. People don’t do that in here. It’s not right and it’s not safe. Just don't talk about it."

She gulps harshly, another single tear dripping down her cheek. "Okay," she nods again, and it's obvious that she's confused. But I don't have the time or the energy to explain why I'm acting like this and I don't even have it in me to care. I didn't even want to be at this visitor’s meeting. I'm only here because I have to be. "Um," she taps her fingers against the table, "we just really miss you, Spencer. Your mom is doing really well with Cassie."

"Good, I'm glad everyone is okay," I nod and I sit back, glancing around for a clock. When is this thing over? I'd rather be in my cell than here. I never thought I'd think that.

Penelope raises her eyebrows and her eyes soften. "A-Amelia? Do you wanna hear about her?"

As soon as I hear her name, my heart starts beating faster. My mind flashes with all the most beautiful images of Amelia that I can recall. I can practically see her in front of me. I can almost feel her under my fingertips. I swear I can taste her chapstick on my lips as she kisses me. I rub my fingers together as if I can feel the fabric of her denim skirt. As if I could unbuckle her belt and take her right on my bed right now. I shake the thought from my head. Don't go there, Spencer. Nothing good ever comes of when your mind goes there.

But I can't get her out of my head. I can stop seeing her lying on my lap, peering up at me as she mulls over which record to put on. Etta James or Taylor Swift? That's always the question of the day, isn't it? It always seems to take her hours to decide on an answer, and she usually doesn't. She'll usually work up an appetite with her thoughts, and when she's gone to get a snack or a glass of wine, I decide for her. Always the same. Always Taylor Swift.

But her smile is always so beautiful when she comes back into the room. When the music finally flows through her ears, the smile that comes to her face is one that could end wars, cure cancer, solve world hunger. I didn't think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make a person so happy. I didn’t think I could ever understand how bubblegum pop music could make Amelia want to drag me off the couch or out of bed and force me to dance with her, whether it be in the middle of the night or just as the sun is peeking through the always-open blinds of her apartment.

I squeeze my eyes shut and try to bring myself back to reality. I try to forget about the girl that's waiting for me in the free world. I try to ignore that she's probably shed tear after tear and I haven't been there to wipe them away. My brain produces images of her gasping for air with her head between her knees and I ball my hands into fists.

I'm angry. I'm fucking furious. I want to be there to hold her and whisper in her ear and tell her that her panic attacks are short-lived, that I'm right there. I need to be there to hold her and kiss her and love her. I need her because I can't do this without her. I don't know what to do if I'm not spending my time protecting her. Everything I do is to protect her. I don't know how to function if I'm not holding her hand, or if I'm not pushing myself through every day just so I can call her at midnight to promise that I'm okay. I've become so reliant on Amelia, and maybe that's wrong, but I don't care. I don't care about anything anymore. I just want my life back. I want my life, I want my job, and I want my girlfriend.

I want my girlfriend. I want to move in with her like we planned to and I want to propose to her and I want to marry her. I want to have a whole house full of kids who are loud and messy and loving and adorable and a crusty dog who slobbers all over the couch and chews my shoes. It's not fair. None of this is fair. Amelia doesn't deserve this. She deserves someone better than me.

But I can still see her. I can still see her fucking smile, and I can still hear her goddamn laugh, and I can still feel the fabric of her dumb hair scarves. She's engulfing me in her. She's not even here and yet I feel like I could reach out and she would be in my arms, kissing my neck and telling me that I'm safe and that we can just sit on the balcony and talk. We don't have to go to bed if you don't want to, we can just talk.

What I would give to hear her voice again. I'd give everything I have, and right now, it's not much. I'd give everything plus the clothes on my back to just hear her tell me I'm safe, or to tell me about a new painting she's thinking about starting, or to ask me to tell her a random fact about a food item she is about to buy at the store.

The last thing I want right now is to hear about Amelia. I want it all, or I want nothing. I don't want to hear that Amelia misses me, or that she's crying and having panic attacks in the middle of the BAU, or that she's sleeping in my clothes (or worse, not sleeping at all), or that she's lashing out at everyone. No, if I'm not having her in front of me, kissing me, hugging me, I don't want to hear about her.

"No."

For what seems like the millionth time, Penelope's eyes widen. "No? You don't wanna hear about-"

"No, I don't," there's a pit in my stomach that I try to hold down. I try to not let it take control of me. "I don't wanna hear about how horrible she's doing, okay? So just tell her that I lo-"

I can feel a million eyes burning into every bone in my body and so I stop myself. My lips freeze mid-sentence and I release the steel grip my hands hold around my cuffs. Penelope's are just another pair of eyes that bore into my frame, and I usually love her concerned and mothering nature, but now, it irks me to no end.

"Whatever," it pains me to cut off the sentence I crave so intensely to say, but I can't let my guard down. I can't be vulnerable and I can't show weakness.

"Whatever," Penelope repeats, almost mockingly, her voice cracking. "So you-"

"Could you not say anything to, um," I gulp, "her about this?" I gesture to my face where I can feel the pulsing and throbbing bruises tormenting me. I drop my shoulders and start to fiddle with the way-too-tight handcuffs around my wrists, but then I decide that that's a horrible idea, and probably a good way to get harassed by the correctional officers. "I just don't want her to worry about this. I'm sure she's worried enough. I don't want to give her another reason to, you know, panic."

"Times up! Inmates, get back to your cells."

Without so much as another glance at Penelope, I stand and turn my back to her. I lift my chin as I'm pushed and shoved into the lineup and then pushed and shoved back to my lonely, isolated cell. I'd rather have it this way, behind bars where the other inmates can't get me.

I drop down to the floor, pressing my forehead against the rusty bars, staring out at the drab, bland, boring beige walls. The paint is peeling and the bars, honestly, look like they could be broken with a hard enough kick. And, of course, the colors of the walls do nothing to brighten up the dead environment. The colors aren't anything like those that adorn Amelia's body on the regular.

A frustrated groan escapes my lips as I bang my hand against the bars. Why did I have to think about her again? Why did I have to let her infiltrate my thoughts?

But the colors of her. The colors swirl around in my head but as hard as I try, I can't get her colors to fill this horrible cell I'm confined to. I try to imagine her denim skirts, knit sweaters, and pea coats strewn out on the bed as she chooses what to wear in the morning. I try to remember the feeling of accidentally stepping on one of Amelia's millions of piercings when they fall on the floor after she takes them out before bed. I try to see her laying down on my bed, her sketchbook in her lap, and her colored pencils beside her as she rambles on and on and on, talking more than me, about what she's drawing and how she's planning on achieving her vision.

But no matter how hard I try, I can't get her into the cell with me. She doesn't belong here. Her art doesn't belong on these chipped walls, and her clothes don't belong on this poor excuse for a bed, and her absurdly positive attitude doesn't deserve to be squashed in here.

I rub my eyes and try to forget. I try to forget all about her and I try to erase her from my mind completely. I push myself away from the bars and stand, but standing does the opposite of what I want to do. Standing gives me a perfect view of the tiny window across from my cell, but more specifically, the sky.

I stare up at the clouds, my hands gripping the bars as tight as I possibly can. My eyes well up with tears and my knees start to buckle under my weight, and as my tears start to drip, they sting the cuts that I didn't even realize I had on my face. It’s not like I have a mirror to examine my injuries.

They are just blobs. There are no dragons, or hands, or tables, or staircases, or cars, or Christmas trees. They're just clouds. There's nothing fancy about them. I'll never be able to see it. I couldn't see shapes when I was with Amelia. What makes me think I would be able to see shapes without her?

I push myself away from the bars and throw myself onto the bed, covering my face with my hands. This is useless. I'm useless. There are echoes of chatter from men on my cell block and it makes my head hurt. If Amelia were here, she would cradle my head in her lap and brush her fingers through my hair, and she would trail her fingertips over my forehead and over the bridge of my nose, all while whispering sweet nothings to me. I groan with frustration, rolling onto my stomach and burying my face under my flat pillow.

"Hey, Reid," Calvin's voice joins the echoes from the cells around mine. "How's it going over there?"

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21 @feralreid @anepiphany @reidscardigan @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @stxrrywildflower @penemily @whollytaciturn @thegingerfairchild @yasminwashere @shrimpyblog @anamelessfacelessnerd @wonderlandhatter @whxt-to-write @inkandexchange @just-call-me-non

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for-your-therapeutic-smile · 4 years

Text

They Never Teach You How to Stop

Rarely do I lack the words to express myself. Perhaps this reflects my failure to maintain my journal consistently throughout 2020. Here goes an honest attempt to capture and document my mental state and the fatigue of Covid, the inertia of this shelter-in-place, the anxiety of this political crisis we face as a nation, the pressure of being a 1L in law school against the backdrop of civil unrest and Justice Ginsburg’s death, coming out - my dad told me he was disappointed -, the possible erosion of my relationship with someone I love, and this feeling of absolute dread and resentment for a system that continuously fails my and future generations (robbing us of a social contract that promised life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness), among many other things I’m too tired to consider. When did we accept a $0 baseline as the American Dream? Oh, to be debt free - free from this punishment for having pursued an education. Stifling the educated to prevent them (myself included) from organizing and mobilizing the masses so we can supplant this system with a better one is the overall objective of the oppressive class (read: Pedagogy of the Oppressed); it’s the conflict between the bourgeois and the proletariat. The proletariat has swallowed the middle class, leaving only the ruling class. I am essentially on autopilot, forcing myself to go through the motions so I can survive another day. I know others join me in this mental gymnastics of unparalleled proportions, one social scientists and medical researchers will soon study and subsequently publish their findings in an attempt to explain the unexplainable. Despite a lack of air circulation, we are breathing history; the constitution, like our societal norms, must adapt accordingly. Judge Barrett: there is no place for originalism. While I seldom admit weakness or an inability to manage life’s curveballs, this series of unfortunate events seems almost too much to bear.

And yet somehow I continue to find the energy to submit assignments due at 11:59 p.m., write this post at 1:38 a.m., “sleep”, wake at 7 a.m. so I can read and prepare (last minute!) the assigned material leading into my torts or contracts class. I find the energy to text my boyfriend (or ex-boyfriend) so I can attempt to salvage the real and genuine connection we have, cook elaborate meals to find some solace, wrestle with whether or not to hit my yoga mat (I don’t), apply to a fellowship for the school year and summer internships, prepare my dual citizenship paperwork, manage a campaign for two progressive politicians, and listen to music in an attempt to stay sane . . . ~*Queues John Mayer’s “War of My Life” and “Stop This Train”*~ . . . I realize I have to be kinder to myself, give credit where credit is due. I hate feeling self-congratulatory though.

Mostly, I am too afraid of the repercussions if I stop moving at a mile/minute, that I can just work away the pain and be the superhuman who numbs himself from the low-grade depression and nervous breakdown. My body tells me to slow down, as evidenced by the grinding of my teeth, but I take on more responsibility because people rely on me. I must show up. I am a masochist in that way. This is what I signed up for and I’ll be damned if I don’t carry through on my promise to do the work. Pieces of my soul scattered about like Horcruxes, though they’re pure, not evil, so I hope nobody resolves to destroy them.

My mind rarely rests. It’s 3:08 a.m., one of the lonelier hours where night meets morning; it’s the hour for and of intense introspection. It makes you consider pulling an all-nighter, one you reserve for an “important” school or work deadline. We always put our personal lives on the back-burner. 3 a.m. sets the tone for a potentially awful day. But that doesn’t matter right now. I’m letting some of my favorite albums play in the background: Joni Mitchell’s Blue, Mac Miller’s Circles, Rhye’s Blood, Alicia Keys’ ALICIA, Coldplay’s Ghost Stories, Frank Ocean’s Blonde, Miley Cyrus’ Dead Petz in addition to other playlists, Tiny Desk performances, and tracks (I unearthed last week, like When It’s Over by Sugar Ray). I need to feel something. I need to feel anything. I need to feel everything. We experience such a broad spectrum of emotions throughout the day that we lose track of if we don’t pause to absorb them. Music reinforces empathy; it releases dopamine.

I spent the past two hours reading through old journals and posts, as scattered as they were, on a wide range of topics: poems I had written about falling in and out love, anecdotes about my world travels, and entries on personal, political, and professional epiphanies. The other night I found one of my favorites, a previous post from my time living in Indonesia, centering on the dualities of technology. It resonated with me more than the others. To summarize, I wrote about my tendency to equate the Internet with a sense of interconnectedness (shoutout to Tumblr for being my digital journal; to Twitter for being a place of comedy and revolution; to Instagram for curating my *aesthetic*; to Facebook where I track my family’s accomplishments and connect with travel buddies displaced around the globe all searching for a home). And yet I feel incredibly lonely and disconnected whenever I spend too much time using technology, so much so that I set screen time limitations on my phone recently to curtail this obsession with constant communication and information gathering. Trump and Biden admitted that it’s unlikely we’ll know the results of the election on November 3rd during their first presidential debate. Push notifications don’t allow us to learn of trauma within the comforts of our own homes. I’m already fearing where I will be when that news breaks.

This global pandemic and indefinite shutdown of the world (economy) undeniably exacerbates these feelings. This is some personal and collective turmoil. But I was complicit in the endless scrolling and swiping of faces and places long before Covid-19. Instead of choosing to interact with my direct environment (today’s research links this behavior to the same levels of depression one feels when they play slot machines), I am still an active on all these platforms, participating the least in the most tangible one: my physical life. I am tired of pretending. I am tired of being tired. I am tired of embodying fake energy to exist in systems that fail me. I am tired of the quagmire. Like Anaïs Nin, I must be a mermaid [because] I have no fear of depths and a great fear of shallow living. This particular excerpt from that 2016 entry was difficult for me to read: “The fantasy of what could have been if a certain plan had unfolded will haunt you forever if you do not come to peace with the reality of the situation. I hope you come to terms with reality.” I am not at peace with my current reality. But is anyone?

It’s a bit surreal for my peers to have suddenly started caring about international relations theory. It’s transported me back to my 2012 IR lecture at Northeastern: are you a constructivist or a feminist? Realist or liberalist? Neo? Marxist? The one no one wants you to talk about. Absent upward mobility, this is class warfare. But I cannot be “a singular expression of myself . . . there are too many parts, too many spaces, too many manifestations, too many lines, too many curves, too many troubles, too many journeys, too many mountains, too many rivers” . . . It feels like America’s wake-up call. But I know people will retreat into the comforts of capitalism if Biden wins and, well, we all enter uncharted waters together if the Electoral College re-elects #45. For those who weren’t paying attention: the world is multipolar and we are not the hegemon. Norms matter. People tend to be self-interested and shortsighted. Look to the past in order to understand the future. History, as the old adage goes, repeats itself. Once a cheater, always a cheater. Taxation without representation. Indoctrination. Welcome to the language of political discourse. Students of IR and polisci have long awaited your participation. Too little too late? Plot twist: it’s a lifelong commitment. You must continue to engage irrespective of the election outcome or else we will regress just as quickly as we progress. Now dive into international human rights treaties (International Covenant on Civil & Political Rights; International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights), political refugees, FGM. No one said it wasn’t dismal. But it’s important. We need buy-in.

While I am grateful for the continuation of my education, for this extended time with family, for this opportunity to be a campaign manager for two local progressive candidates (driving to Boston to pick up revised yard signs as proof that the work never stops), it would be remiss of me, however, not to admit that I am lonely: I am buried in my books, in the depressing news both nationally and globally, and in precedent-setting Supreme Court cases (sometimes for the worst, e.g. against the preservation of our environment). In my nonexistent free time I work on political asylum cases, essentially creating an enforceability framework of international law, for people fleeing country conditions so unthinkable (the irony of that work when my country falls greater into authoritarianism and oligarchy is not lost on me). I am fulfilling my dream of becoming a human rights lawyer which stems back to middle school. I saw Things I Imagined (thank you Solange). I have held an original copy of the Declaration of Independence that we sent to the House of Lords in 1778 and the Human Rights Act of 1998 while visiting the U.K. Parliamentary Archives as an intern for a Member of Parliament. This success terrifies and exhausts me; it also oxygenizes and saves me. Every decision, every sacrifice, has led me to this point.

“It’s the choosing that’s important, isn’t it?,” Lois Lowry of The Giver rhetorically asks. This post is not intended to be woe is me! I am fortunate to be in this position, to have this vantage point at such an early age, and I understand the whole is greater than the sum of the parts. My life has purpose. I am committed to the work that transcends boundaries; it is larger than life itself. It provides a unique perspective. But it makes it difficult to coexist with people so preoccupied in the drama they create in their lives and the general shallowness of the world we live. It feels like there is no option to pump the brakes on any of this work, especially in light of our current climate, and that pressure oftentimes feels insurmountable. Time is of the essence. It feels, whether true or not, that hardly anyone relates to my experience, so if I don’t carve out this time to write about it, then I am neither recording nor processing it.

Tonight, in between preparing tomorrow’s coursework, I realize that I have an unprecedented number of questions about life, which startles me because typically I have the answers or at least have a goal in mind that launches me into the next phase of life or contextualizes the current one. These goals, often rooted in this capitalistic framework, in this falsity of “needing” to advance my career as a means of helping people, distract me from asking myself the existential questions, the reasons for why we live and what we fundamentally want our systems to look like; they have distracted me from real grassroots community organizing until now. They distract me from the fact that, like John Mayer, I don’t know which walls to smash; similarly, I don’t know which train to board. Right now feels like we are living through impossible and hopeless times and I don’t want to placate myself into thinking otherwise despite my relatively optimistic outlook on life. As we face catastrophic circumstances – the consequences of this election and climate change (famine, refugees, lack of resources) – I do not want to live in perpetual sadness. I am searching for clarity and direction so I can step into a better, fuller version of myself.

It’s now 3:33 a.m. Here is the list of questions that I have often asked myself in different stages of life, but recently, until now, I have not been willing to confront for fear that I might not be able to answers them. But I owe it to myself to pose them here so I can have the overdue conversation, the one I know leads me to better understanding myself:

Are you happy? Why or why not?

What do you want the future to hold? What groundwork are you going to do to ensure it happens?

What does your ideal day/week/month/year/decade look like? Why?

With whom do you want to spend your days? Why?

Who do you love and care about? Have you told people you care about that you love them? Does love and vulnerability scare you?

What do you expect of people – of yourself, of your partner, of your family, and of your friends? Should you have those expectations? Why or why not?

What do you feel and why?

What relaxes you? What scares you? What brings you joy?

What do you want to improve? Why?

What do you want to forgive yourself for and why?

Does the desire to reinvent yourself diminish your ability to be present?

Do you have a greater fear of failure or success? Why?

How do you escape the confines of this broken system? How do you break from the guilt of participation in it and having benefited from it?

How do we reconcile our daily lives with the fact that we’re living through an extinction event? This one comes from my friend (hi Jeanne) and a podcast she listened to recently.

How do you help people? How do you help yourself? Are you pouring from an empty cup?

How will you find joy in your everyday responsibilities, in the mission you have chosen for yourself? What, if any, will be the warning signs to walk away from this work, in part or in its entirety? Without being a martyr, do you believe in dying for the cause?

So here are some of the lessons I have learned during this quarantine/past year:

“I’ve Got Dreams to Remember,” so do not take your eyes off them. Chasing paper does not bring you happiness.

Be autonomous, particularly in your professional life.

Focus on values instead of accolades.

Do everything with intention and honest energy.

Listen to Tracy Chapman’s “Crossroads” & Talkin’ Bout a Revolution for an energy boost and reminder that other revolutionaries have shared and continue to share your fervent passion . . . “I’m trying to protect what I keep inside, all the reasons why I live my life” . . . When self-doubt nearly cripples you and you yearn a few minutes to run away when in reality you can’t escape your responsibilities, go for a drive and queue up “Fast Car” . . . “I got no plans, I ain’t going nowhere, so take your fast car and keep on driving.”

With that said, take every opportunity to travel (you can take the work with you if absolutely necessary). Go to Italy. Buy the concert ticket and lose yourself in the moment. Remember that solo excursions are equally as important as collective ones. But, from personal experience, you prefer the company. Find the balance.

Detach from the numbers people keep trying to assign to measure your personhood.

Closely examine the people in your inner circle and ask them for help when you need it.

“And life is just too short to keep playing the game . . . because if you really want somebody [or something], you’ll figure it out later, or else you will just spend the rest of the night with a BlackBerry on your chest hoping it goes *vibration, vibration*” (John Mayer’s Edge of Desire) . . . so love fiercely and unapologetically.

Be specific.

Go to therapy even when life is good.

#reflection #covid #quarantine #late nights #music #revolution #diary #politics #john mayer #alicia keys #tracy chapman #love #dear diary #travel #writing #personal #mental health

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hettiesworld · 4 years

Text

Kids

Pairing: Mark "Dags" D'Agastino x OFC (Bethany)

Plot summary: When Bethany is assigned as Class President of Fairmount High School, she gets bullied quite a lot. But for Dags, the local troublemaker, he has a bit of a crush on Bethany and visa versa. But they can’t confess to each other. But after the school trip to Washington D.C (and getting partnered with her) and saving the group from getting plunged into a lake in the school bus, he manages to get a soft and passionate kiss from Bethany.

Author’s note: This is for my 30 Days of Jeremy challenge and I think Dags from Senior Trip is SO underrated, like Evans’s character, Jake Wyler. Why not? The faceclaim for Bethany is Scarlett Johansson.

Warning(s): Strong language, mentions of sexual content, fluff.

Word count: 1242 words

“And the winner for the position of Class President is…” Principal Moss was announcing the results of this year’s class president election as well as other important news over the tannoy system.

“...Bethany Foster!”

Bethany was in the hallway at recess when the announcements were being made. To be honest, she was embarrassed when Moss decided to say it in front of many of the students in the school.

Last week, Bethany’s official welcome was over in a flash. The principal wore his standard greeting smile, but it never extended to his eyes, as if his mind was off on some other important task while he ticked me off his to-do list. Students move around the hallways in gossiping throngs. Everyone knows everyone. The map that hung so limply in her hand will soon fall apart along the fold lines and still this place was like a maze to her.

But then, she met Dags.

Well, Mark was his real name, but she definitely preferred Dags.

It was weird at first but every day she fell in love with the idea of falling in love. It was unpredictable and crazy but she loved it.

A crush is nothing more than a lust for someone. That does change anything in her eyes. He is still always there in her mind. Everyday when she see him, that is it. She is thinking about him for the entire day. When their eyes lock, his eyes burn hers like she has been staring at the sun for too long. He is my crush, but he will never be mine. That much she already knows.

But much to Beth’s disappointment, Dags felt the same way.

The next day in Math, that’s when the bullying happened. Dags walked in the classroom, late as usual, with downcast eyes and his thick bangs almost reached his shoulders. Bethany had spent the morning rehearsing scenarios she knew would never happen, but regardless of the futility she did it from waking right up until class. Then she sat trying to control her breathing and prevent her face from turning beet red; but the breaths came quicker and her cheeks warmed regardless.

"Psssst, Bethany, I hear Ken likes you."

It was Reggie, the wannabe troublemaker who chewed gum and wore ripped jeans. Reggie leaned forward on his desk and used a straw to spit out a spitball to the Math teacher, still chewing his gum professionally. Then he sat back and glanced around the room to bask in the grins of his classmates. He was the king.

And of course, he was talking about Dags.

During group work, Dags and Barry Kremmer were talking about one of the students, Meg Smith.

“What about Meg?” Barry asked Dags.

“Meg’s gay.” Dags replied. Bethany, who was in front of them, rolled her eyes. Yeah right. Meg Smith is gay? Well, if she was, who was Beth to judge her?

“Well if anyone can change her, it's you.” Barry admitted to Dags, pointing towards Meg and then doing the gesture of sex behind his back as Dags was looking at Meg.

Bethany looked back to see Barry doing that to Dags. She whispered to Barry, “You better stop that before Dags sees you. You’re just childish.”

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

In a later lesson, which was English, Dags was chatting up Lisa Perkins, the goody-two-shoes (just like Bethany, but more goody than her).

“Lisa. Lisa, Lisa, Lisa, Lisa…” Dags kept badgering Lisa with her name. Lisa got fed with him and looked around to face him.

“What?”

“Wanna cut and go to a party?” Questioned Dags, who was chewing gum that Reggie gave him at lunch.

“Huh.” Lisa turned back and tried to ignore Dags, but he was very persuasive.

“Come on! I know you like me.” Dags smirked at her, still chewing his gum, his left earring showing. Bethany was watching the scene unfold from the back of the classroom, the teacher not even giving a fuck.

“Would you just leave me alone?” Lisa snapped at him, teeth gritted. Her book was now a mess, filled with an angry doodle over her English research. She looked back quickly and sighed.

“I am concerned about you, Lisa. One day, you're gonna wake up and realise that you wasted all of your high school years studying.”

“And you're gonna wake up one day and realise that you're a loser!” Lisa stormed out of the classroom as soon as the final bell went for hometime. Not before she ripped out her ruined research paper and threw it into the bin.

Bethany saw Dag’s smile turn into a frown. She wished she could do something but she was too shy. So she just packed up her bag and walked out of the classroom.

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

The next day, Principal Moss makes the announcement over them being invited by the US President, who amazingly enjoyed their letter, to Washington D.C. to discuss it. And the students were all put into pairs for safety, of course.

“Meg Smith and Barry Kemmer… Carla Morgan and Travis Linsday... Reggie Barry and Lisa Perkins…”

Bethany was hoping that she wasn’t put with…

“Bethany Foster and Mark D’Agastino.”

Oh no.

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

After a wild and adventurous trip to Washington D.C and Dags saving everyone from the school bus from getting plunged into a lake, both him and Bethany were on a balcony, at the school, talking.

“Thank you for saving us.” Bethany proclaimed, leaning against the balcony and looking at the view.

“It was no problem.” Dags replied, who smiled back at Bethany.

“You gotta stop the drinking though. And the troublemaking. Seriously. It’s not a good look on you.” Bethany critiqued him, suddenly looking at him, swishing her red hair in the process.

Dags just laughed.

After a moment’s silence, Bethany decided to tell him.

“I need to ask you something.”

“Sure, what?”

“Since when did you have a crush on me? And don’t say you didn’t cause’ Reggie told me.”

“Shit.” Dags blushed and cleared his throat. “It was when you first came into school. In Math. With that fiery red hair I love. And those bright, beautiful and crystalline eyes. Those big blue eyes…”

Bethany blushed as she realised that Dags did like her back, just like Reggie said to her.

“There’s another thing, actually.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well, I've been thinking about this and... I don't want to go to college as a virgin.” Bethany blushed at what she just said and she was worried about what Dags was going to reply with.

“Oh.”

Oh? That’s what his response was?

Then Dags realised what she said.

“Oh!” Dags blurted out and smiled at her.

“I mean… if you don’t want to, that’s fine. I mean-”

"Sh." He hushed her, before moving his finger, and pressing his hand against her cheek, giving him more support to push himself towards her, and connected their lips. His lips were firm against hers, but the kiss remained soft, gentle, slow. They held it for a few seconds, before their lips began to move in perfect sync, slowly.

He exhaled through his nose, not wanting to let go. Her entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of relief, combined with eccentric panic, and lust. He moved his hand from her cheek to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her long, dark red hair, lightly pulling her into him, adding more pressure to their lips, deepening the kiss.

Tags:

@optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @yavanna80 @dreamlesswonder86 @archerybitch68 @ilovebrandt @sarabeth72 @carissime72 @jtargaryen18 @fizzytaurus @axelwolf8109 @shadow16350 @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

#30DaysofJR #jeremy renner #dags #senior trip #nbarnes

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galos-writing · 4 years

Text

Quills- Abbé de Coulmier x Reader // Childhood friends HCs

Summary: Madeleine doesn't appreciate it, but you've been known the Abbé for a very long time.

Warnings: Heavy anxious reader, hate from a canon character, a bit of jealousy, a lot of potato english.

Word Count: 6.607

The Abbé's life is Charenton. He's an adult man, and a Man of God. Everyone knows him for his kindness and his generosity; women know him especially for his handsomeness. He's a damn perfect man, indeed, and Madeleine knows it too well.

Not everyone knows his childhood, though. Actually, nobody does. Nobody, except you. You've been known him forever, and you keep knowing him like a book.

You two are members of two noble French families; when you were kids, you used to play together almost every day. Your parents were very close to his ones: this made you two have the same nanny.

François had the “good kid” reputation: he was always behaved, polite and sweet with others, even if he was a little naive. You were his opposite: you used to be spoiled, skittish, mischievous and incredibly astute.

You knew that he was keeping a façade up: he was, yes, a good boy, but when he was with you, his pureness was corrupted by his enjoyment of organizing mean pranks to other courtiers with you. Your parent’s friends called you “Les Petits Diablotins” (Little Devils); he was “Le Frère Diablotin” (The Brother Devil), and you were, of course, “Le Chef Diablotin” (The Boss Devil). Madeleine just couldn’t believe it.

Your routine with him was destroyed by François’s sudden sickness, that made your parents argue with his ones. That poor child had very few possibilities to survive, you found yourself far from him overnight.

After ten years, a lot of things have changed: the Abbé’s illness was cured and he decided to dedicate his life to God thanks to his miraculous recovery, then he decided to completely dedicate himself to Charenton. Meanwhile, you have studied to become a nurse.

Your personality changed, too: you became kind, sweet and loving after having spent a period among a large group of leprouses. That period made yo stronger, but gave you a severe problem of anxiety, too.

Your arrival in Charenton has been quite ironic: as the goofy fellow that you were, you entered the asylum, but instead of asking someone for the director, you began to wander through the building, wanting to find them by yourself.

You found yourself into a huge room, full of wooden tables and people having a meal. Maybe the canteen? Your eye caught an old, tall man (with a teenage girl matching him) talking with a brown-hair priest. Wait a minute...you already knew him, that priest reminded you of someone. You didn’t care about him in that moment, and decided to approach the old man. Maybe he was the director, since he looked so professional.

Anxiety began to build a knot in your stomach, and your hands began to sweat as more as you approached the two men (and the girl). “Not now...please calm down (Y/N...)” you thought.

But your body didn’t want to calm down at all. And if the old man had found you ridiculous? And if they didn’t need a nurse? Your body temperature began to increase, and your legs began to shiver. You hardly tried to swallow all of your anxiety, but it was useless, you were too nervous to talk with them. You decided to quickly go back and hide as fast as possible.

Once you’ve managed to hide behind a wall, you began to take deep breaths to calm yourself. The worst was over, you thought, you were safe. Now you just wanted to go home, and maybe try again another day. Until you heard someone coughing on your left, to catch your attention.

The priest’s body looked ten times taller next to you, as you were sitting on the floor, and his puzzled gaze peering you was quite heavy to hold. His coughs had scared you, but you didn’t want to catch everybody’s attention, so you just jolted, as your heart was heavily hammering against your chest and your natural skin color was leaving your face.

«Y-Yes?» you tried to ask, shaking, as his green-blue eyes were deeply penetrating your soul.

«Oh, excuse me, mademoiselle, have I scared you?» he suddenly asked, looking sorry, as he helped you to get up from that filthy floor. In that moment, you suppressed the urge to kill him: what the fuck of question was that?! Youwere obviously terrified due to him.

«A-A little bit...» you coldly replied, removing some dust from your apron. He sweetly smiled at you, and made your skin color come back and visibly increase. Your face was literally burning right now.

«I apologize for my rudeness, I-I just wanted to-I-I’m (Y/N), anyway, nice to meet you!» you exclaimed, way too excited to keep calm, as you suddenly grabbed his hand and shook it with no clue of grace. Your hands tingled and sweated more, and your lungs decided to stop working properly, making you hyperventilate. You left his hand, embarassed. «I was looking for the director of Charenton. Do you know him?». His smile faded away in the moment when he heard your name.

«I AM the director.» he blurted out, looing peeved. This didn’t help your anxiety to finish, but you decided to act calm as the professional nurse that you were.

«H-Have I said something wrong?» you attempted to ask. He shook his head as to wake up from a coma,a nd awkwardly smiled.

«Oh, no, at all! Your name just reminded me of someone...» he explained, wistfully smiling. That sentence made you more confused that you already were.

«It’s okay, Monsieur...?» you just asked, without a particular voice tone.

«François Simonet de Coulmier, but everyone just call me Abbé. Nobody calls me with my name, just my parents and-»

You suddenly hugged him tightly as your eyes were filled in tears, increasing his confusion. After that day, you began to work as a nurse into the asylum of Charenton. The Abbé was so happy to be again with you, but he couldn’t imagine that explaining the others who you were and what were you doing there could be so hard.

Adapting the asylum routine to your arrival had been difficult, too. During your first night there, you were forced to sleep in Pitou’s room.

Madeleine hated you, but you couldn’t understand the reason why...

The Abbé’s reputation prevented you to remind him some childhood memories. Or, at least, in front of other people. But you giggled when you noticed his pillowcase with a stain on it, among Madeleine’s dirty laundry. «Oh, does he still drools in his sleep?». Madeleine looked at you, she couldn’t believe in her ears.

Things were pretty quiet, but you couldn’t understand François’s jealousy for you. Not that he was showing interest in you, but he mistreated whoever wooed you. «What’s wrong? I just want to make sure that no moron- I mean, no ill-intentioned men will approach you!» he censored himself to keep his language clean. You thought that he cared about it because you two had been betrothed when you two were children.

The Marquis didn’t lose the chance to approach you, even if he was clearly in love with Madeleine. You didn’t appreciate his novels, and the Abbé was glad that you were rational. Your refusals gave the Marquis the inspiration to write, obviously, about you. He noticed your kinship with François, and wrote a very lewd novel about you two having an extreme sexual intercourse. You couldn’t deny that it kinda aroused you, but the fact that the man character was you having sex with someone you considered a brother, it disgusted you. Anyway, you kept the secret: if François had found that novel, he would have been furious. So you gave it to Madeleine; only God knows what she would had done with that.

#imagine #scenario #parallel universe #quills #joaquin phoenix #joaquinphoenix #abbe de coulmier #abbe #2000 #headcanons #headcanon #jealousy #x reader #reader #abbe de coulmier x reader #non binary reader

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carsonstcne · 4 years

Text

— && guests may mistake me as ( wolfgang novogratz ), but really i am ( carson stone + cis male + he/him ) and my DOB is ( 11/26/1997 ). i am a ( hockey player ) and would like to stay in suite ( 308 ). i won’t be much of a bother because i am ( confident & loyal ), but i can also be ( impatient & guarded ) at times. personally, i like to ( play video games, watch espn & do facetime calls ) when i have the time to relax, and my favorite snack is ( trail mix ) to have in my suite. thank you for checking in! ( nessa, est, 21 ).

tw: mentions of sports-related injury, surgery/rehabilitation.

so, yes, it is nessa bringing back on last character who happens to be a hockey player for the nhl !! if you’re interested in plotting with this guy, please dm here or on discord !! i’ll be linking his pinterest board and full bio here once they’re done, but hopefully this suffices for now.

the first-born of the stone children came into the world with a bang -- a couple of weeks earlier than planned, in the middle of the night, screaming his tiny lungs out as soon as he'd left his mother's body. what his parents didn't know at the time was that the manner of his birth would be indicative of what they should have expected from him in general. from a very young age, he was always pushing to do things sooner than he was expected to -- trying to sneak out of his crib, starting to walk before learning to crawl first, reaching for objects and almost knocking a number of things over his head -- he was curious, energetic, and drained his parents' energy as they ran around after him and tried to keep him out of trouble. it was a wonder they decided to have more children after what he put them through. perhaps they'd hoped that another kid would give him someone to play with at home and give them some time to themselves.

the day his baby sister was born was the day carson deemed as the worst day of his life. he grew up in four bedroom, three bathroom house with the perfect yard in east grand forks and enjoyed life with his parents and the family down the road. the stone clan lived extremely comfortably due to dad being a well-known generational farmer and mom a world-renowned chef to be reckoned with. to say the stone children grew up spoiled would be a safe and accurate statement.

carson loved having his parents' attention all for himself -- a bit of a greedy shit right off the bat, but he loved genuine affection and love. in fact, the boy was lucky enough to have that with two families: his own and the one down the road. his mom was best friends with the pretty neighbor lady with the pretty daughter who was close to carson’s age. the two had been forced on play dates as the two mothers lived their dream and promise to raise their first borns together.

when his sister came into the picture, carson felt as though he was now boring, unwanted, and worst of all, replaced. he despised the baby girl from a young age and oddly enough, the neighbor’s daughter didn't seem so bad anymore. a very long story short, a friendship and admiration grew between the two over the years while carson tried to not resent being a brother.

it wasn't until his sister's first crush broke her heart when she was seven that carson felt any real 'brotherly' feelings towards his sister. he likes to think that he was empathetic with her, but it wasn't that. it was more so that he did care, but there was opportunity for him to help her, protect her, and threaten the little shit that rejected his sweet sister. that started the hero complex and co-dependency issues that he and his sister share.

life was pretty easy for him, he was always pretty much a good kid who was raised to be polite to others and also just be himself. fortunately, since a young child carson had the type of personality that just drew people into him and he got along with everyone. caron’s interest in hockey would start at a young age, when he’d find himself simply tuning in to the many hockey games that his parents played around the house -- to the point that he easily memorized positions and the players.

since he lived so close to the university of north dakota, he used to go the university's hockey games as a little kid and that's how he found a love for hockey. it was one of the few things that kept his attention and carson just knew he was meant to play. carson was one determined son of a bitch. as soon as he got the idea to be a hockey player in his head, he stuck with it. as a child, he begged his parents to put him into a kiddie league and they ultimately said yes.

hockey was something that carson poured all of his energy into. his home life was filled with homework and watching his sister, but hockey practice was where he could be freed from all of that. he lived for practices and games for that reason alone. hockey has always been one of the very many steady things in his life. growing up, carson wasn’t exactly a star student in his classes. he was smart, but not in a conventional sense. if you asked him the quadratic formula, he would look at you like you were speaking a foreign language. however, if you asked him about who won the stanley cup in 1998 and the player statistics of that year, he’d be able to essentially recite a wikipedia's worth of information without any hesitation.

to avoid the extra-curricular tutoring that his parents insisted he needed if he was going to go get into a good school, he headed for the rink. the year carson turned thirteen, he made his town’s youth hockey team, preparing himself for the dream of making the nhl in a few years time. his small town team took home the championship the year he was named captain. “he’s the strongest center i’ve seen in years”, noted one of the coaches. it was the height of carson’s teen years. he was invincible -- eternally youthful. his parents stressed that he couldn’t rely on his body or physical prowess to carry him through life; your mind was the only reliable tool you are given. because they didn’t want their son to neglect his grades, they set out new rules: homework must be done on the way to and home from the rink, at least, and he had to help out around the farm once a week. even though they wanted carson to keep up with his schoolwork, his parents were the most supportive when it came to hockey. they cheered him on at every game, allowed him to get the best equipment, and even created a hockey rink in the backyard for him to skate on when the roads were terrible during the winter months.

2013 was a whirlwind year. before then, carson was just another small town boy with dreams of going to “the show”. there were plenty of bull-headed, ambitious boys that were willing to work for it, ones better than him, they said, but they didn’t have the heart he did. there was nothing more important than following his dream -- not prom, not exams, not girls, not friends. carson was that boy, the one with no plan b. people would roll their eyes when he missed another party or had to reschedule a test because of practice or games. but those same people were in the stands, cheering him on through every goal and assist after he made the “brandon wheat kings” and could finally say he was in major junior league. how fast he made captain surprised nearly everyone, except him, of course. sure, carson’s parents shoved university brochures down his throat every chance they got, but so did everyone else. “hockey isn’t a concrete career carson, you have to have a backup plan” rang in his ears, but instead of discouraging him, it spurred him harder. in every news interview, he was prepossessing -- with dark hair, maturity, and experience oozing out of every word. whether it was an act or not, it looked good. this wasn’t a dream, it was a pending reality. the charming, big-hearted boy matured into a courageous, focused, but still bullish, young man those seasons.

since he wasn’t eligible to be drafted just quite yet, carson decided to leave the major junior league to attend boston university and play for their hockey team. allowing him to continue his studies while still being able to play hockey. when he was a freshman, he suffered a very serious knee injury while on the ice and in front of scouts. carson had been so focused on wanting to be a nhl player that he didn't even care how serious his injury was -- as all he could really think about was how he blew his chance at impressing scouts, even though his injury wasn't at all his fault and a freak accident. however, the one good news that he got was that, once he'd healed from his surgery he could resume playing again, so it wasn't like it was completely over for a chance for him to one day accomplish his goal.

it took a little while and some extra hard work, and after going through a lot of physical therapy, by the age of nineteen, carson was a first round draft pick for the washington capitals and was officially a professional hockey player, just like he'd always wanted. hearing his name called for the nhl draft was almost a distant memory; the memory muddled like a far off dream. in reality, it was a binding contract that said where to be and when, a hefty salary with strings attached, plus a shiny signing bonus. his knee must stay healed and solid or everything would be snatched away, no pressure. even still, they must have enlisted a wide angle lens to fit his smile in the frame. his friends cheered him on from their screens at home, understanding why the boy was always on the go, had time for no one but himself, still bore a heart of gold. carson was on a plane that night, flying out to america’s capital, and settling into a hotel that would be his home for almost three months until he secured housing downtown. that year he spent busting his balls for the team that allowed him to shine like the star he was, proving himself to men ten years his senior, and adding on to his hero complex. being on a team with alexander ovechkin could’ve made carson look like an amateur, but all his hard work would pay off, as he got show the world just how great of a player he was.

seeing all of the changes in his life and the change in his personality, his parents were calling almost every night to tell him that it wasn’t too late to back out of the nhl. his sister constantly asked him if he was doing okay. his rehab doctor occasionally emailed with concern about missing physiotherapy appointments. carson rarely, if ever, kept in contact with any of his hometown friends and found himself feeling more distant from them than ever. leaving his girlfriend of four years to start fresh. this was a new life, it was serious, this was adulthood. they would only interfere or pull him off track, and one injury had done that enough already. no one was slowing him down now, a pig-headed boy, and he didn’t know how to stop even if he wanted to.

he became quite a popular player throughout the league, leading the league in goals. despite putting up career numbers in goals and assists, he became a household name from setting a record for most minutes in the penalty box. carson tended to be a pretty physical player, bumping people from behind or hitting them into the boards. he’d been suspended on more than one occasion, which would make him be considered a dirty player. many players weren't too keen on his style of playing. but it never deterred him, he loved the physicality of the sport, the sheer amount of strength and endurance it took to keep up.

off the ice, some would likely say that carson is the type of person who'd be hard to miss in a room. when he was younger, he used to be louder, thinking that would grant him the attention he needed, but as he's aged, he's honed his people skills more and relies on his charm and intelligence much more than the volume of his words (but he can be loud, it's the sort of ability you don't lose with time). he's confident to the point where he can be considered arrogant, tends to be a perfectionist, and rarely (if ever) caves in once he's made up his mind. he's very energetic but gets easily bored with things, unless they truly catch his interest. along with that, the tabloids wanted to make him out to be this bad boy villain that he wasn't. he tried to ignore it, but the more he ignored it, the more the rumor mill ran wild. he just didn't understand why he couldn't just play hockey and not have to deal with the rest of the bullshit. sure, he has had some one night stands and hook ups but no where near the amount that people have claimed in the past. some girls he hooked up with in the past have sold him out to the press. sold photos of him sleeping or something along those lines just because they contributed to his "bad boy" image.

if carson’s hockey career couldn’t get better, it most certainly did when the washington capitals won their first stanley cup in his 2nd year with the team. so then he became a stanley cup winner, playing beside his favorite players, hanging with his friends, drinking more than he should, risking more than he should, loving more than he should. a mix of contrary traits and confusing quirks that defined his life as a hockey player.

it was the season after carson’s most successful season yet. his dedication and award-winning attitude landed him on center ice, staring down jeff carter across the center line. after the referee blew his whistle in the third period, carson saw nothing but black. a hard hit was a hard hit, but this was more -- it was personal. a grade ii separation of the acromioclavicular joint, also known as a shoulder separation. it could have been worse. his mother swore she saw his clavicle hanging from a thread, but that was just hearsay. it didn’t matter what she said, he were benched. his chirps before the game had gotten him in deep with a teammate from los angeles. he told carson to stay home and that he was just a pretty boy. but that’s exactly what he wasn’t going to do. six weeks of recovery, three months of rehab -- no one could take this away from him. was carson resilient, or just stupid?

lightning doesn’t strike twice, and carson’s journey to play for the washington capitals would prove to be difficult. before he got to get anywhere on the ice, he was a glorified locker room attendant, basically. it would have taken a miracle to get any playing time. his first few games back were difficult. carson was desperate to get play time and there just wasn't any chance for him to get it. he worked so hard to get where he was that he felt stuck. people kept telling him that it would happen soon. well, soon would never be good enough for him. commentators and sports analysis were saying he wasn’t as good as he used to be. which left carson feeling like he was under a microscope at all times. in addition to that, he would learn that while he loved the sport, being a professional athlete also meant you were apart of a business -- so, as a great as he was, it didn't stop him from being traded to a different team just a few years into his career. from washington d.c. to chicago, he was traded at just the blink of an eye.

as a washington capital, he worked his way to becoming an alternative captain which is why is hurt him so much to be traded. he thought that the team would be his team for years and they just traded him off like nothing. and sure, his performance wasn’t the best but he had one bad season after his best one yet. so carson was a little mad because he didn’t think he deserved to be shipped off to a new team.

now he’s in the windy city, looking for a new start in his hockey career and decided to stay at the malnati for the time being. he’s still feeling a little bitter about being traded so early in his career, but realizes that he still has the privilege to play. he’s been in the city for only a few months and is hoping to restart his career and life.

plotting

carson may come off as a jock... well, he is a jock, let's be honest here, sport is a huge chunk of his identity and it's also the reason why he can't stand still for too long. the boy has a lot of energy, it needs to go somewhere and what better way to use it than slamming into some people on the ice? he's loud, blunt, occasionally rude, he doesn't look for the attention on purpose but he draws it because of his demeanor.

carson has never had a hard time befriending others. in school, he was a troublemaker and an athlete -- a mix certain to get you popularity. but even now at twenty two years old, he isn't afraid to make himself look an ass to entertain others. he's never been shy and can talk to just about anyone.

carson is the kind guy who schmoozes his way in and out of every conversation, effortlessly gliding through social situations with confidence and style. his time on the ice has served him well, glowing in the spotlight but also having some grace to share it with nineteen other people. most of his rivals are deliberately trying to see him fail. he’s nothing if not a team player, as cliche as that is. he’s a natural leader and wants everyone to work together towards ultimate harmony. when you're out partying, he’s the guy that takes charge and decides what bar you’re going to. he’s always been someone who has been pretty free-spirited and marches to the beat of his own drum. he has quite the charming and engaging personality, he practically can get anyone to do anything but he's far from the manipulative type. half of the time, he uses his charming ways to get his friends to let loose and be as care-free for a moment as he tends to be. however, he's not someone who is too careless, he knows when to have fun and he knows when to take things serious. carson is someone who's going to be loyal to his friends, he's going to treat them like family and he's going to be there for them, no matter what they're going through and it doesn't matter if he can relate or not.

he cares about the people he has in his life and is a genuine, sincere, sensitive dude. always the boy who leaves his heart on the ice after every game, stands up for what he believes in, and is an unadulterated good person at heart. unfortunately, he tends to be so harmonious that he becomes influenced by others’ attitudes. if he’s around dicks, he’s going to act like a righteous, self-concerned asshole, if that’s what everyone else is doing. the insecurity of being young and impressionable, especially now with the spotlight shining a little brighter, tends to make him want to meld into the people around him. the weakness of his knee and shoulder caused him to become more anxious and protective of his reputation and abilities, coupled with the feeling that his parents are waiting for him to fail so he can pursue a more “realistic” path. he knows what he’s good at and has a hefty dose of confidence and ambition in him, but he can come off condescending and arrogant in the same light. ultimately, a true people-person who sees the good and wants to shed light on it, but sinks deeply into insecurity and fear if he feels vulnerable. but no matter how much he tries to put on a “hockey bro” aesthetic, he’s unabashedly a naive, soft-shelled boy who doesn’t know any better than to trust everyone means well.

not that carson has had a lot of time to date, with practices every morning and/or evening, and games every weekend, but the desire is there. throughout high school, when relationships were plentiful and bound to blossom, he was preoccupied with his sport. he did his fair share of complaining that he didn’t get that same teenagehood that his friends did, but then again, most of them played too. girls and dating came second to the game, refining their craft and honing their skills was more important. maybe not in their hearts, but in their heads, and for carson his head ended up winning more often. it was almost cut-and-dry that he would put his potential career over a relationship; one was up to him, and one was completely up to chance. in his heart of hearts, he is a sensitive, emotional dude who feels deeply and knows the clock is running on the rest of his life that he’s neglected in lieu of furthering his career. if there’s one thing that might subdue his parents' restlessness about him making no real “concrete” life decisions, it would be bringing home a girl that actually stuck. if he could avoid heartbreak for life, ensure that a girl would never come between him and his goals, then it would be in the cards. remember the pretty girl who was his neighbor as a little kid? when she came back into his life the summer of his junior year, it wasn’t supposed to be a long-term thing, just a summer fling. something to get his mind off of his impending career decisions, a “break” from the action. but, the only thing that takes more time than a relationship is a breakup, so somehow between her controlling, over-dramatic insistence that he pay attention to her any time he had a chance to breathe and carson’s innate desire to be independent above all else, they made it work for four long years. though, once he got into the league as a rookie, he had broken it off in favor of “enjoying his youth” (may or may not have been influenced by his old teammates) and was living the playboy years that he never got to enjoy when he was a teen.

since coming to chicago, he has dated off and on. there's been nobody serious, but i could see him dating someone for a couple months at max. he's a little distracted by everything going on in his career, so he's not completely focused on finding someone, but he's also not opposed to it. he's just not sure what he wants, and he's still so young that he doesn't feel like he needs to worry about what he wants quite yet.

the blackhawks are a really important part of his life, he sees them as a family of sorts and he does his best to be in their good books. he's one of the resident idiots and troublemakers because on top of cracking dad jokes, he tends to jump into any stupid idea that comes up (he also gives a lot of them) and he's been known to play pranks on some of his teammates, especially when they're away for a game.

wanted connections

his childhood best friend and ex girlfriend, olivia “ollie” im -- you know those childhood best friends that parents comment how cute they’d be together? yeah, that was ollie and carson when they were little kids. at first, they didn’t get a long considering they were set up by their mothers. however, over time they became close friends. like family, even. ollie moved away when they got to middle school, but he always thought about her throughout the years. when he saw her for the first time during the summer, he was quite in shock since he thought he’d never see her face again. when they started their relationship, carson played in canada with his junior team and then they continued their relationship when they went off to separate colleges. they kept their steady long distance relationship, and he was faithful to her despite all of the difficulties they faced. it was when he was drafted in the nhl that caused a rift in their relationship. his calls were less and less, which left ollie feeling like she wasn’t a priority anymore. i’m requesting her because of how interesting their dynamic would be to explore.

his little sister, amelia -- as mentioned, carson here has a little sister that he’s pretty close to. he played his big brother role of helping by stepping in and help take care of her when he needed to. without a doubt, he's all about family, he loves and is very protective of each and every single one of his family members. he's a pain in their asses, but he loves them loads and he'll go out of his way to try and help them out if they need it, even when it's something he has no idea about.

work out buddies -- working out is something that carson is really into, so i'd love to have a person or two he works out with regularly and they just shoot the shit while they do it, try and motivate each other, and cheer for each other when they get a new personal record in. overall, he's very much into sports, so anyone sporty or athletic he probably could have crossed paths with.

pet buddies -- carson is looking to get a dog, so maybe he befriends some other pet owners? or walkers. he’s looking to get a coonhound, and they’re an extension of speed and need all the time outside.

sports fans -- since carson lived in boston for a bit, baseball became another sport he liked to watch. the red sox are his team. give him some baseball fans to argue with, to rejoice with, to get into a fight with for some silly arbitrary reason.

lingering feelings -- i've also had this idea of a friendship that fell apart because carson fell in love with a guy and then didn't know what it was, so he ended up being a complete ass about it. he was the first guy to really bring him any sort of awareness to his sexuality, and carson was rough on himself at first as he came to terms with that. it wouldn't have gotten anywhere but they might still be on ends because of it and it might be fun to play with, so hmu if you're interested!

in all honesty, carson’s open to quite a bit! he'll have connections with anyone through the malnati. maybe some fans or something too? like super fans that are really into him might be cool? i'm just spit balling with that. i'm also sure there will be plenty of people that are just annoyed by the thought of him because y'know there are some people who dislike the blackhawks for very valid reasons. feel free to throw something at me, i'm game to try anything!

#malnatiooc #malnatism #malnatiintro #i have been working on this for hours FSDHFFSF

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prophetandprincess · 4 years

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"A.J, dear, what a surprise," Mrs. Malone said with a smile as Alex walked into the restaurant Thursday afternoon, enveloping her in a huge hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too." Alex hugged her back with just as much force and love. "Actually, I'm meeting with my tutor here, but I also missed you and wanted to check in to see how you and the fam were doing."

"The indestructible A.J. asking for help? You have truly changed in the last year. I hardly recognize you," Mrs. Malone laughed as he directed her into a booth and sat down with her. "The family is good. Sandy has gone through two babysitters already, which is its own source of stress, but Sandy's strong will is going to serve her well as she gets older. Right now though, thrusting her onto friends while I and her father are working makes me feel like a bad parent."

"Well, now I feel guilty," Alex said with a smile, but there was this guilt gnawing on her heart. "You know I would still be watching Sandy if I could. I love that kid."

"Oh, dear, I know." Mrs. Malone reached out and took Alex's hand, squeezing it. "You're doing so much already, with school and your internship, I would feel guilty if you were coming all the way to Queens to watch Sandy as well."

Alex squeezed Mrs. Malone's hand back, but her reassurance didn't help relieve the guilt at all. Maybe Alex would be able to find a new babysitter. She knew a bunch of women in Monica's sorority that would probably have the energy to keep up with Sandy. They were busy women, but there had to be one of them, maybe studying for early education, that would be fit for the job. Alex knew from experience that the Malones paid well. Alex added that to her ever-growing to-do list.

Mrs. Malone gossiped a bit about the restaurant and some of the regulars that Alex knew before there was an issue with a check that the owner had to take care of. Olivia walked through the front door a few minutes later, taking a long moment to scope out the old speakeasy turned restaurant before spotting Alex in the booth. There was something about the way she surveyed the place again when she sat down that made Alex think Olivia had seen some things during her life. Things that taught her to always have an exit strategy. Maybe she could teach Alex more than just Russian.

"This is a cute place," Olivia finally said when her eyes settled on Alex. "I just don't get how this is any less public than the local Starbucks."

"I used to work here, I know the owner, and I know the lovely Nariah Lawson who is coming to take our orders," Alex smiled as Nariah walked up to the booth. "How are things? Has the boyfriend proposed yet?"

To answer, Nariah held out her left hand, the silver ring with two emeralds flanking a diamond stood out against her dark skin. There was the obligatory cheering and fawning over the ring while Olivia sat there with a polite smile on her face. Nariah took their drink orders before she headed off, a bounce in her step.

"Sorry about that," Alex said when she turned back to Olivia.

"It's your money," Olivia shrugged as she reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. "Now, are you ready to get to work?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said with only a hint of a laugh. Olivia was a very serious person, not in a bad way, but it was jarring as most of the people Alex spent her time with these days were warm and comforting.

The two of them shared a plate of fries as Alex stumbled through her first lesson, which was literally the very basics of the Russian alphabet and the building blocks of the language. After the hour was over, Alex felt as if her brain was about to explode, but Olivia stated that she was already seeing some improvement in her pronunciation. Olivia agreed to stay for another half an hour to help work on Alex's Russian assignments, and by the time she headed out of the restaurant, Alex thought that she might just be able to pass this class.

While she finished her fifth glass of Coke, she tried to figure out where she would be sleeping that evening. As she was weighing the different options, her phone dinged. It was Mr. LeBlanc stating that the renovations on her apartment were finished today and she could move back in. There was probably no furniture in there, but Alex wanted to at least stop in and see what it looked like now that it was clean and repaired.

The answer was it looked cold and empty. Everything that had been salvaged from the apartment was stacked in one corner and it was a rather pathetic pile of mostly clothing. Luckily, her grandfather's trunk had survived with only a few more dents than it had previously. It would have been pretty depressing if a trunk that had made it all the way through World War II had met its untimely end in a studio apartment in New York City.

The new cabinets were nice, they didn't squeak when Alex opened them, but all of her food had been taken away during the cleanup. She should have gotten an actual dinner while she was at Malone's. Still, the apartment was a completely clean slate that Alex could actually decorate how she wanted and take her time doing so. While the whole situation sucked, Alex decided to find the silver lining in it all. She was still upset about the missing laptop and notebook, but knowing that it could have been her life she decided to not be too bitter about that either.

Alex decided that while nothing was in the apartment, she would clean it from top to bottom. There were a thousand other things she should be doing, but she did make the effort to find a Russian news program to listen to as she walked to the store for supplies and a sandwich in the vain hope it would somehow teach her subconsciously. All it probably did was put her on a government watch list. The main living area was covered with the white powder that marked any renovation and dust. The bathroom hadn't been ransacked, but it was still a mess and Alex scrubbed until her arm hurt. By the time she was done, the apartment smelled of bleach and new paint.

Opening the window helped clear Alex's head a bit and she realized that night had fallen while she was cleaning. She crawled out onto the fire escape and took a minute to sit there, the cold air drying some of the sweat off her forehead. It was not the most comfortable place to sit, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to sit inside either. Alex silently contemplated if she should risk putting Monica in danger again by staying with her or risk leaving her alone only to find out that she had been attacked in the night.

A thump above Alex made her jump. At first, she thought it was someone else just coming out onto the fire escape or setting out a plant. However, looking up between the iron, she saw that something large was moving above her, jerking and staggering, and it was heading her way. That's when Alex remembered that the thing that was killing scientists had been able to climb buildings without a problem. She was scrambling to get back into the apartment. While she was pretty sure that Mr. LeBlanc wouldn't renew her lease if it was torn apart again, she wanted to be alive enough to worry about being homeless.

It was only a few moments after Alex closed her window that something slammed into it. A scream escaped her lips as she scrambled to grab her switchblade where she had left it with her things. The blood was pumping in her ears so loudly that at first, she didn't realize the thing at her window was saying her name. That was enough to turn her whole body cold.

Alex yelped again as her phone started going off. Peter's name was on the readout and she quickly accepted the call.

"Peter, whatever it is, it's outside my window," Alex whispered into the phone.

"Alex, no it's not," Peter's voice sounded breathless and almost wheezy.

"Yes it is, it followed me down the fire escape!" Alex didn't have time for him not to believe her right now. Why must men always question everything women say!

"No, it isn't because that's me on the fire escape. I've had a run-in with our friend and could use a bit of patching up," Peter said again before coughing, which Alex now heard through the window as well. "You think you could let me in?"

Alex went over to the window, ready to rip Peter to pieces, but one look at him killed any reproach that was on her lips. He looked like hell, even if he did a little finger wave as he smiled at her through the brand new window, Spider suit still on. It took Alex a minute to figure out the lock to get the window open and then Peter literally tumbled inside, bloody handprints on the frame where he gripped it and smeared it all over the freshly cleaned floors where he dropped.

"Jesus, Peter, you need to go to the hospital," Alex knelt beside him as he attempted to sit up. There were deep claw marks all over his arms, back, and chest that were weeping blood.

"How exactly would I explain this?" Peter asked as he tugged off his mask, bruises already forming on his face, lip split, and so pale that Alex wondered how he was still conscious. "I heal fast, which I also won't be able to explain to a medical professional without being shipped off to a lab to be studied. I just need somewhere to take a breather."

"Why didn't you go home? Your aunt is a nurse and I doubt May would ask too many questions," Alex got up and went into the bathroom where she now kept a fully stocked first aid kit. She had learned the importance of having one last year and while she doubted it would do anything to help Peter, it would at least make her feel better.

"I don't want to make her worry," Peter explained when Alex came back into the room with the kit and a wet towel. "I'm pretty sure she knows what I do, but we've never talked about it. I'd rather not give her a heart attack showing up at her door looking like I lost a fight with a mountain lion."

"But you're alright with giving me a heart attack? I'll try not to take it personally Parker." Alex started to help Peter peel his suit off because he was so badly battered that he was having a lot of trouble doing it himself. The damage was even worse without the red and blue fabric hiding the bruising and depth of the cuts.

"But I come bearing information. The monster of New York that caused your current decorative preferences in your apartment refers to himself as the Jackal," Peter coughed and something snapped in his chest.

"It speaks? With those fangs?" Alex started to gently clean the cuts as Peter focused on propping himself up against the wall. "Did he have a lisp?"

"That's your question?" Peter laughed weakly. "Out of everything you could have asked me about a near-death encounter and it's if he has a lisp. As if I wouldn't have started with that."

Alex laughed, though it sounded a little hysterical, as the towel started to drip with blood while it was doing very little to help clean up his chest. After a couple more seconds she gave up and just started bandaging what she could. She grabbed a wad of gauze and pressed it to Peter's chest in hopes of stopping some of the bleeding since it wasn't like she knew how to stitch up a person. He might say he healed quickly, but there was a whole pool of blood on her floor that stated otherwise. She toyed with the idea of calling the ambulance without him knowing, but how was Alex going to explain the carnage without the police arresting her, Peter, or both.

"I don't think the fangs are attached, more like mouth guards that he wears, which makes the lack of lisp even more impressive," Peter said after a couple of minutes of hissing in pain and breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "His suit also has some sort of armor weaved into it because it hurt like hell when I got a hit in. Those claws, however, were the big issue, as you can easily see. He's strong, fast, and a bendy bastard. He also really hates me for some reason. I mean, most people hate me, but this guy really dislikes me and it seems really personal."

Before Alex could come back with a witty comeback, there was a knock at her front door. They both went very still, hoping whoever it was would go away. Alex tried to figure who the hell it could be. Monica would have called or texted Alex first and none of the other residents would have any reason to come see her. What if it was Steve or Sam, how would she explain Peter to them without revealing his identity? Worse, what if it was Micheal coming to check on her? He was a police officer and would be able to get past the front desk easily. Shit.

One look at Peter and Alex knew he wouldn't even be able to get himself to the bathroom in time as another set of knocks came to the door. Alex had no choice but to try to get rid of whoever it was. She gave Peter a warning look to stay quiet before she got up, attempted to get the blood off her hands, and walked over to open the door.

Jacob Harper was standing on the other side of the door, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and a huge smile on his face. "Surprise!"

"Jake, I thought you said you were coming up around midterms," Alex got out as she stared at her older brother's smiling face, trying to catch up to this unexpected turn of events. "How did you get past the front desk?"

"Apparently we look enough alike and I'm charismatic enough that the old bulldog at the front desk let me come up," Jake laughed, looking past Alex into the apartment. "Is there a reason you're not letting me in? Are you hiding a boy in there?"

"Yes! Yes, I am," Alex looked over her shoulder to see Peter attempting to peel himself up off the floor. "So, do you think you could wait down in the lobby until I get him out of here?"

"Absolutely not," Jake laughed as he attempted to push his way into the apartment.

Alex attempted to bar the doorway, but she was so surprised that Jake was able to get the door open enough to look inside. Peter was in the middle of the living room, his suit barely clinging onto his hips and legs, bleeding everywhere, and not a single piece of furniture in the apartment. Jake and Peter stared at each other for a moment before Jake gently took Alex's arm and pulled her out into the hallway. He waited until the door was closed before they locked eyes, his expression dark.

"Alexandra," Jake said in a cold and measured voice. "I've tried, really hard, not to ask you too much about your life here in the city because I know you want your space. Lord knows that I don't want to know about your sex life. However, there is a bleeding man in your empty ass apartment and I need to know if either of you are in trouble."

"Oh, Jesus, Jacob," Alex threw open the door to find Peter in the exact spot where she left him, blinking like a deer in headlights. "It wasn't rough sex you freak. Peter got jumped on his way home and came here to get patched up."

"By who?" Jake dropped his duffle bag by the door while Peter gave him a little finger wave. "And what's with the tights?"

"I go to Julliard, ballet. I'm sure you now see the problem," Peter said quickly, saving Alex from a way less convincing lie. "You must be the older brother. This is not how I expected to meet."

"Well, I have no idea who you are so likewise." Jake smiled at Peter before he took in the carnage of the apartment. "I'd say sit down, but it doesn't look like that's an option with Lexie's minimal decor. Why don't you hop up on the counter and we'll see if we can't get you patched up."

"Lexie?" Peter raised an eyebrow but did what he was told as Jake took the bloody towel into the bathroom. Alex heard the water running, so she figured they'd have a few minutes to talk without him hearing it.

"You ever call me that, Parker, and I will kill you myself," Alex whispered as she brought the first aid kit over and surveyed the damage again. "You know, this all doesn't look as bad as I first thought."

"Fast healing, remember?" Peter groaned as he peeled off the rest of his suit, including his web-shooters, and sat there in just his boxers. "Hide this somewhere before your brother starts questioning the ballerina angle. You could have given me a little warning that he was coming."

"It wasn't supposed to be until after midterms," Alex whispered as Jake reappeared with a towel and a couple of washcloths.

"Alright, buddy, we're about to get real familiar with one another real quick," Jake said with a smile before surveying the damage. Alex took a moment to go into her grandfather's trunk, saying she thought there might be more gauze in there, and stashing Peter's suit and web-shooters into the false bottom.

The Harper siblings worked in tandem to get Peter back into one piece. There wasn't a lot of talking, just a hiss of pain or a groan from Peter while Alex and Jake muttered for a bandage, gauze, or the pair of scissors. Alex made comforting sounds now and again if something obviously hurt Peter badly, but luckily there weren't more instances of that. He wasn't a stranger to getting the crap beat out of him apparent.

"What kind of weapons were these guys carrying?" Jake asked while he finished bandaging up Peter's arm, the last wound that needed covered. "I haven't been in a lot of knife fights in my time, but the injuries I have seen didn't look like this."

"To be honest with you, I didn't get a good look at it. It all happened so fast." Peter shrugged, and then winced, as they started to clean up the towels and blood. "One minute I was walking toward the subway, still in my gear because practice ran over, and the next I was getting the ever-loving shit beat out of me. They took everything and only ran when someone shouted something at them. I didn't want to scare my aunt so I came here."

"Let me see if I have something you can put on and then we'll figure out how to get you home," Alex said as she took all the blood-soaked items into the bathroom and tossed them into the tub, letting the water run to try and clean them off.

After going all the way to the back of her closet shelf, Alex was finally able to find a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie. It was the first outfit that Alex had given James when she brought him in out of the rain. It seemed to be her emergency outfit for wayward superheroes. Hopefully, Peter would be the last one she ever had to give it to.

"Well, Peter can't walk home in this state and we can't sleep here Lex, so what's the plan?" Jake asked when Alex handed the clothing to Peter.

"You know, Jacob, I really hadn't gotten that far yet," Alex sighed as she looked over at the window. "Maybe you can take a cab with Peter and get a hotel room for the night? I'll help you with the cost if you need help."

"Lex, I am a welder with work, I'm pretty sure I have more money than you do. Also, what are you going to do, sleep on Gramp's old trunk? How long have you been living like this?" Jake sounded frustrated as Alex took the bucket from under the skin and took it into the bathroom. She swapped out the towels for the bucket, wringing out the last bit of water before laying them out to dry before bringing the now full bucket into the living room.

"There was an electrical fire that ruined the place. I lost a lot of my furniture in the fire, putting it out, and the cleanup. It only happened last week and I was just back into the place today," Alex explained as she poured some bleach into the water and started to scrub the floor furiously. "I've been crashing with friends and if you would have told me you were coming I could have warned you."

"If you told me anything about your life, I would have known that your life was in shambles," Jake shot back as he and Peter watched Alex scrub the blood furiously. "Like what the hell, Lexie? You couldn't even shoot me a text message?"

"And if I did, you would have told Mom and Dad," Alex said between clenched teeth, dunking the scrub brush into the water before bringing it out and scrubbing some more. "That would have led to emails and phone calls about how I should come back to the farm and spend the rest of my life raising calves and babies."

"You don't give them enough credit, Lex," Jake said with a sigh. "You don't give any of us any credit."

"Really? Because I'm the only one cleaning the apartment while you just stand there lecturing me." Alex threw the scrub brush in the water, sending it splattering everywhere. "I'm sorry that I didn't move to Miami and just have everything fall into my lap perfectly, that my life is a shit show and it is inconveniencing you. My humblest apologies."

"You think that everything has just fallen in my lap? Seriously?" Jake was properly angry now, his jaw clenched underneath the stupid ass beard of his. "You spoiled brat."

"Excuse me," Alex was on her feet before she even realized. "Spoiled? Is that the word that just came out of your mouth?"

"Um, bleeding guy over here," Peter cut in before Jake said anything else. "If you two are going to royal rumble in the apartment, that's your prerogative. I just need someone to help me get into the lobby and I'll take it from there."

Alex was so angry she could feel the heat radiating off her face, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. "Sorry, Parker. Let's get you out of here and back home so you can get some sleep."

"Well, finish your cleaning first. It will probably take me that long to get off this counter," Peter laughed as he slowly started to scoot toward the edge. "I also don't want you to lose your security deposit."

"I think that ship has sailed," Alex gave him a shaky smile but grabbed some wet Swiffer pads to finish cleaning up the floor before taking the blood off the walls and window sill. By the time she had finished, Jake had helped Peter get up on his feet, gathered his bag, and packed a bag for Alex as well.

The group didn't talk as they made their way to the elevator, Peter held up by the Harper siblings. Alex knew that he was in bad shape when he didn't even make a bad joke while they rode down to the lobby. Thankfully, Henry was busy with another resident so the group hurried out into the chilly autumn air. Peter took ages to get into the cab, swearing colorfully under his breath, but soon they were on their way to Queens.

"Now, after we drop Peter off, where are we going to spend the night?" Jake asked softly.

"Do you think it's the best idea for us to be in the same room unsupervised?" Alex hadn't forgotten what Jake had said to her in the apartment and she was still pissed about it.

"I'm not going to let you sleep curled up on the floor in your apartment like a stray cat," Jake gave her a look over Peter's head, as he was slumped down with his eyes closed. Alex didn't believe for a moment that he was asleep, he just didn't want to deal with the Harper siblings bickering. God, she wished she could do the same.

"Well, as I live here, I don't know any of the places to stay in the city that don't cost an arm and a leg," Alex huffed.

"If you're just looking at a place for the night," the cabbie said over his shoulder. "The Chelsea Inn's rates are pretty low right now. One of my other fares stated that they got a great deal after their AirBnB fell through at the last minute."

"Sounds great," Jake said before Alex could ask any more questions. "Take us there after we drop our other passenger off."

The cab was an uncomfortable silence after that, Peter still pretending to sleep while Jake and Alex looked out of their respective windows. Even the cabbie didn't try to speak with them, turning up sports radio as they moved through New York City traffic. Peter needed help getting out of the cab, but was able to make it up the stairs and into his house without assistance. He didn't say goodbye or thank you, but Alex didn't blame him. The fact that he was standing at all was a bit of a miracle.

The ride to the Chelsea Inn was even more uncomfortable and Alex had never been happier to see another person as she was to see the concierge at the hotel. She must have just started her shift because she was extremely chipper and pleasant as she checked the siblings into the "guest rooms", which were two rooms with Queen beds that had a connecting bathroom. That was probably the best arrangement for both siblings to make it out of the hotel in one piece the next morning.

Jake allowed Alex to unpack the bag he had bought for her and change for bed in blissful silence. However, she knew that it wasn't going to last. It wasn't until she was out of the shower, saying a silent thank you that the cabbie hadn't noticed her hands were stained with blood, that Jake pounced.

"Alright kid, I went down and got gummy worms, gummy bears, soda, and two slices of cheesecake as bribes. Then I went to a super shady alcohol store and got those little bottles of booze to add to the soda. We're having a conversation no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Jake motions to the spread of junk food on his bed. "You could go and slam the door like when you were a teenager, but there is no escaping me, so we might as well get it over with."

Alex sighed heavily, but she hadn't eaten since those fries with Olivia and that sandwich before she started cleaning. She was starving. The promise of alcohol was also not something she could easily pass up given the events of the last couple of hours. However, she would rather die than let Jake think that this was anything but a complete and utter inconvenience on her life, so she made a big show of flopping down on the bed and pouting just a bit.

"You're such a brat," Jake shook his head, but sat down on the other side of the bed, pawing through the goodies he had purchased. "Now I know things got a little heated earlier-"

"You mean when you were being an asshole?"

"But," Jake raised his voice and continued, "just take a second to look at it from my point of view. You went through hell last year and none of us knew. We saw what it did to you, how unlike yourself you were. So I show up a bit early to make sure everything is as alright as you say it is. I walk into an empty apartment that's covered in blood, and a man half beat to shit standing there like this is a bad play. Can you blame me for being a little on edge?"

Alex really couldn't blame him, especially because he still didn't know the whole story about what happened the year before or why Peter had the ever-loving hell beat out of him. While she didn't think Jake would be able to deal with all the superhero stuff, and pparently he thought she was a spoiled brat, part of him did care. If she had seen him in the same scenario when she went to Miami, she would also be upset and concerned. She should throw him a bone, only so he'd stop digging.

"First, you have to promise not to tell mom and dad," Alex said as she popped open the cheesecake container. "Second, you can't freak out."

"I promise not to tell mom and dad, but the second one is a harder sell." Jake dumped gin into his bottle of Sprite and Jack into the bottle of Coke before handing it to Alex. "I am a big brother, after all, so depending on what you tell me, it's my duty to freak out."

"Well, you remember when you told me about the news story with something ripping apart scientists' apartments?" Alex said slowly, looking at the cheesecake instead of her brother.

"Oh, I do not like where this is going," Jake said before taking a long sip from his drink. "There wasn't an electrical fire in your apartment, was there?"

"There was not," Alex said with a sigh. "Whatever the thing was tore everything to shreds, which is why I didn't have any furniture anymore either. Police still don't know what it wants, but the important thing is that I'm fine."

Jake took a deep breath before tearing into a pack of gummy bears and ripping a couple of heads off with his teeth. Alex let him stew with that statement while she polished off the cheesecake and debated whether he was angry enough to not realize she had eaten his piece as well. She decided not to test him when he was already on the edge and moved onto the gummy worms. Jake continued to stay worryingly silent.

"Did you break a mirror or something while I wasn't looking? Maybe got on the wrong side of a witch and got hexed? How is it that you always end up in these situations?" Jake finally said after finishing over half of his drink. "This isn't like the motorcycle gang when you were sixteen, you did that yourself, or that asshole last year that you dated for some reason. This danger is just seeking you out. It's a moth and you're a freaking flame. Unless you're still lying to me, which is also very much like you."

"I'm not telling you a lot of things, but this is everything I know about this guy. He calls himself the Jackal and no one knows what he has against the scientific community," Alex laid down on her stomach to get more comfortable, still eating gummy worms between sentences.

"Maybe he is a mad scientist like in the James Bond movies. Who cares?" Jake shrugged as more poor brave gummy bears lost their heads. "Whatever the reason, you think he'll come back to your place? If so, maybe you should think about staying somewhere else until he's caught."

Now Alex had to decide how honest to be with her brother. Did she tell him about the Jackal's nocturnal visit after murdering someone else? That didn't seem like a good idea, but he'd be able to read about the murder in the paper so she couldn't lie completely. What was the half-truth that wouldn't end in them screaming at one another about what was best for her safety?

"I don't exactly have money to stay anywhere else for however long it will take the police to figure this guy out. Besides, he hasn't hit any of the other scientists twice." Alex took a deep breath before continuing. "But, I am going to tell you something so that you can't say I'm holding anything back or lying to you. The last scientist who's apartment he got into, the scientist was there and he killed them."

Jake downed the rest of his Sprite and Gin in a single gulp. Alex thought that was a good idea and downed her Rum and Coke, which had substantially more liquid in it than Jake's did. That led to hiccups, which made Jake laugh as he got her some water to help. They were both giggling like idiots while Alex attempted to drink the water and hiccuping at the same time, which led to more laughing and more hiccups. It was a vicious circle, but it broke the tension.

"You good?" Jake asked once the both of them got themselves under control, Alex wiping tears out of her eyes as she nodded. "Alright, good. I don't know what's going on in this crazy-ass city, but now that I'm here, I'm going to take care of my baby sister. That means that tomorrow we're going to thrift stores or Ikea or wherever and getting you some furniture. Then I am going to buy you dinner to make sure you eat. You're looking a bit gaunt.."

"I'm insulted that you think I haven't been eating well," Alex put on mock outrage before laughing. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, hot pockets are my main food group, but the fact that you'd point it out is just rude. However, that's all going to have to wait until I'm done with classes and my internship."

"You can't take one day off? Play hooky like high school?" Jake rolled his eyes. "You need to move to Miami and chill out, kid."

"Not all of us can smoke weed and surf all day," Alex smiled as she started to clean up the carnage of their snack session. "Some of us are still in college as well as having to pay rent."

"Jealousy is not a good color on you, Lex," Jake smiled as he laid down on the bed. "How early are you going to have to roll out of here in the morning?"

"Well, the class is at eight in the morning so probably earlier than I would like. Luckily, I'm not going to have to figure out how to get there." Alex stretched as she tossed out the trash and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"And that's because…" Alex didn't have to look at her brother to know that he had an eyebrow raised.

"Because after the attack on the apartment, Mr. Stark was kind enough to grant me the use of a vehicle and driver to ensure my safety too and from work." Alex didn't think that Jake would even believe her if she tried to explain that Steve Rogers had talked Tony Stark into it. As much as she joked about being the smarter sibling, not a lot got past Jake, especially if they were talking face to face.

"Well, it's the least he could do after working for him puts you in constant danger," Jake muttered.

"We don't know that. All the other scientists have been working at Oscorp." Alex didn't know why she was defending Tony Stark, a lot more powerful people had said a lot worse things to and about him.

"So he just picked you out at random? That is what makes you feel better?" Jake shook his head. "All those academic accolades and you still are an absolute dumbass."

"Goodnight to you too, jackass." Alex rolled her eyes before closing the door to her room a little more forcefully than necessary.

Alex's sleep was far from restful, even though the bed was comfortable and the room was pleasantly cool. Peter didn't return any of the text messages she sent him after telling Mrs. Nazari about her change of location. She only slept for forty-five minutes to an hour before she was awake again, checking her phone and sending another text message to Peter before staring at the ceiling and listening to the air conditioning hum. When her alarm went off, Peter still had said nothing and Alex was almost sick to her stomach about it. Jake was snoring peacefully when Alex slipped out for a run and muttered something when she came back in but didn't wake up.

Jake's eyes were at least open when Alex came out from her shower, though he was still flopped on his stomach and didn't look as if he planned on checking out any time soon. He asked something about breakfast, but Alex just told him to go back to bed. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry, but trying to wake Jake up was like rousing a bear from hibernation and she didn't want to keep Mrs. Nazari waiting. Jake was totally happy with going back to sleep.

"Any reason you're in a hotel today, Miss Harper?" Mrs. Nazari asked, her face concerned as she opened the door for Alex. "You weren't attacked again, were you?"

"Only by a surprise visit by my brother," Alex smiled as she slipped into the car. "And please, call me Alex or A.J. I'm not put together enough to be referred to as Miss Harper by someone I see every day."

"You are technically my client, but if you insist," Mrs. Nazari smiled as she went to close the door. "There are some treats for you in the pocket if you haven't eaten yet. I'm not sure if this hotel has continental breakfast or not. My children don't think I notice when they stuff them there when they don't want them."

Alex smiled as she pulled out sliced apples and mangos from the pouch in the back of the SUV. She also found a small toy horse that she assumed belongs to one of the children as well. Alex tucked it back into the pouch without a word. Mrs. Nazari probably would be embarrassed if Alex brought it up. So, Alex happily munched on fresh fruit while Mrs. Nazari made clicking and humming sounds in response to whatever the news was telling her.

It wasn't until Professor Warren came into class and Peter still wasn't in his seat next to her that Alex went from being concerned to be truly scared that Peter had overestimated his healing abilities. It was one thing not to answer her text messages at night, but to not come to class? His superior healing powers be damned, she should have dragged his battered ass to the hospital the moment he tumbled into her apartment. She was going to murder him if he wasn't already on his death bed.

By some grace of God, Professor Warren was also off his game and even ended class early complaining of a headache. Everyone was so surprised by this that they all sat in their chairs staring at one another as if they were worried it was a test. The poor teaching assistance probably thought that they were all hypnotized when he came in for their lab section. He even asked if everything was alright before launching into how close they were to midterms and how they should book their time with the computers if they didn't have their finished analysis already.

Alex was sure whatever they learned was extremely important, but all she could think about was Peter Parker and as soon as she was able, she was running down the street and begging Mrs. Nazari to drive her to his home and not Stark Tower. It took a little bit of convincing and a call to the lab before Mrs. Nazari was persuaded to head to Queens.

#marvel #fanfic #My writing #A Spider Sat Down Beside Her #Update 16

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mermaidxatxheart · 5 years

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Some Rules are Never Meant to be Broken Part III

Part I | Part II

Pairing: Paramedic!Bucky X Reader

Warnings: Some language probably, nothing too crazy, the feeling of being watched. IDK. This is kind of a mild chapter.

Word Count: 7143

Summary: The reader is a Muse living life as a tour guide at a museum. Bucky is struggling with returning home from war and adjusting to civilian life. He used to be a paramedic and now works security, but what he really misses from his pre-war life is his ability to draw. Cue the reader, determined to do her job and get him back to a point where he can do what he loves most. But, spending that much time with anyone always leads to romantic feelings, which is against her laws. Will she be able to resist Bucky long enough to help him and not get her in serious trouble?

A/N: I haven’t forgotten about this story at all. I’m just terrible and my brain simply can’t stop coming up with new ideas. Also, work has been sucking my soul dry. But I’ve finally reached a point, I feel like, where it’s a full chapter. It might not be the most exciting chapter, but I enjoy it, and I hope everyone else does, too. Mood board below was made by the ever amazing @captainsteveevans I can’t stop staring at this thing, it’s so gorgeous!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. If you do, comment or send me a message. They’re some of my favorite things and I can’t stop smiling when I see them.

(Look at it^^^ I’m in love!)

Between school field trips and tourists in town for the holiday weekend, the museum had never been busier. You had given six tours and it was barely two.

You miss Bucky. It had been three days since you’ve seen him and you’ve hated every second, especially since he left you so flustered at not being kissed.

What a tease.

“Y/N, there is a man in the Greek wing that would like to speak to the expert. I told him you would be happy to talk to him. He’s very charming.”

Bucky!

“Alright. I’ll head over there right now.” you try to stop the ridiculous grin trying to pull at your lips.

You step into the hall and look around, expecting to see Bucky’s muscular frame. It wasn’t crowded in the exhibit at the moment, a few families milling about, but he was nowhere in sight and you feel a sinking feeling in your stomach.

He’s not here after all.

Nothing feels worse than getting your hopes up and then feeling them fall to the floor.

“Excuse me, you are the expert in this area?” a man asks, coming up to you. You quickly fix your face into a pleasant smile. He’s average height, shorter than Bucky, but a few inches taller than you. His whole appearance is immaculate, suit crisply pressed, dress shoes polished and buffed, his hair is styled professionally-not a thing out of place. His skin is flawless, not a freckle, blemish or mark of any kind. Perfect in every way, it’s almost unreal.

“Yes, you were looking for me?” you reply, holding out your hand.

He shakes it, his hand is soft in yours and after getting used to Bucky’s calloused one, it’s a strange sensation.

“Yes. My name is Doctor Feldman. I was hoping I could pick your brain about an exhibit I’m putting together.” He has an accent, it’s familiar but something you can’t place. It’s not anything that you’ve heard in the last fifty years. Maybe you’re just too out of touch with the rest of the world.

“Absolutely.”

He releases your hand finally and pulls out a portfolio from his briefcase. It matches his shoes, right down to the embellished stitching. An unfamiliar sensation fills your stomach.

“This is the space that I have to fill.” he hands you a photograph. The space is large and your mind starts racing about all the things you could fit in there, so many statues of yourself.

“Quite impressive.” you say, taking the photo from him, trying to avoid skin contact.

“Thank you. I was wondering, how would someone like yourself go about filling such a space with history?”

“Oh, there are many ways.”

He hands you more pictures of the artifacts to go inside and you’re able to easily recognize them.

“You could easily just set it up the Greeks on one side, Romans on the other, but I find that style quite boring.” you flip through a few more pictures, an idea forming in your head.

“Or, you could do an interactive style, in which you start with the oldest artifacts, and as history progresses you move through to the point where Rome invaded and then you could split it into two directions.”

“I rather like that idea.” he says, taking the pictures back.

“I’m glad I could be of help.”

“I may come back to pick your brain once or twice more.” he tells you, shaking your hand again. “You have such wonderful ideas.”

A chill creeps up your spine as he smiles at you. Something is very off about him, something you can’t quite place. You want to tell him to find another expert, that you can’t help him anymore. You open your mouth to speak, but he releases your hand.

“Have a good day.” he bids before walking away.

Your face flushes in annoyance that he cut you off like that. You make a face at his back, wishing that your powers extended to anything more than just inspiring people. That wasn’t exactly great for defending yourself.

You find, not for the first time, that you’re missing Bucky.

Rubbing the mark on the back of your neck, you walk back to your desk, counting the minutes until, hopefully, Bucky shows up at five.

As it turns out, five o’clock passed about twenty minutes ago and he never showed up. And you’re miserable for it. You wait to leave, thinking... hoping that he was just stuck in traffic or left the office late.

But as five-thirty passes, you’re forced to admit he’s not coming. Again. You retrieve your things and head out into the night air. Autumn is falling fast upon the city and the air is getting colder.

You wrap your coat tighter around you as you make your way home. You first notice something off in the subway car. It feels like eyes on you. You’ve volunteered for art classes over the years, students studying your body, learning how to draw, countless eyes focused on you. You’re intimately familiar with the feeling of being watched, of being watched with intent.

Subtly, you look around the car, trying to take in all the faces of the strangers around you. There are so damn many of them, it’s nearly impossible to remember. You shift your bag higher onto your shoulder, trying to ignore the feeling crawling along your skin. It’s a city with 8 million people. They have to look somewhere, so why not at a beautiful woman on a train.

The doors creak open, rocking the car slightly and you exit, making your way home. Once inside the door, you drop off your bag, pulling out your phone and finding Bucky’s number. Your finger hovers over the call button, an internal battle between wanting to hear his voice, and not wanting to look like an idiot. Your thumb twitches, pressing the call button on accident.

Shit.

Bucky

“Stark, how long does it take to update? You’ve had it for three days.” Bucky sighs, leaning against one of the many lab benches.

“It takes as long as it takes, Barnes. You can’t rush science.” he gives a small shrug. “Also, consider me holding it hostage as payback for you breaking my very nice door.”

He groans in annoyance. Tony had physically removed his entire arm, claiming he needed it for a software update. What Bucky hadn’t realized was that it would take four days to do it.

The door to the lab opens and Steve walks in like a man on a mission. “Tony, have you seen-” his eyes land on his best friend and Bucky gives a half-hearted wave with his one good hand. “Never mind. I found him.” Steve leans against the bench next to the dark-haired man.

He’s uncomfortably silent but Bucky refuses to break first. Steve came in here looking for him, he can speak first. Bucky can feel his blue eyes on him as he studies his nails, trimmed short as usual. There’s nothing fascinating about them, maybe a little grease from working on the arm but it’s utterly boring and Bucky is rapidly running out of things to examine.

“You know it’s almost seven.” Steve announces finally.

Internally, he winces. Externally, he’s a stone, unmoving and unflinching. “Uh-huh.”

“Are you going to see her? You’ve been here late every night this week, later than everyone else.” he nudges Bucky’s arm a little harder than is necessary.

“Her who?” Tony pipes up, glancing up from his laptop screen.

He glares at Steve. “Thanks for that. And no, I’m not going to see her.” he crosses his arm across his chest, the action falling flat without the second arm to complete it. As much as he hates the stupid thing, he feels lopsided without it.

“Bucky! Have you even been out of the building in the last three days?”

“Would it even matter? I’m not seeing her.” he retorts.

“Still waiting over here. Who’s the ‘her’? And why won’t you go see her?” Tony interjects.

Bucky’s phone rings in his pocket and he’s forced to dig it out awkwardly. Tony grabs it from his hand, his reflexes not as quick as they should be.

“Who is... My Muse? Is that her? Should I answer for you? Hello, Bucky can’t come to the phone right now, he’s a little shorthanded.” he chuckles at his own terrible joke.

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t answer it, let it go to voice mail.”

Tony’s thumb hovers over the screen and he glares at him. He sighs loudly. “Fine. But in return I get to hear all about her.” he declines the call and turns off Buck’s phone. “You can tell her I banned phones in the lab-it screws with the equipment.” he leans against the counter next to him.

“There’s not much to tell. I met her at a museum a couple weeks ago.” he shrugs unevenly.

“And has spent every day since with her.” Steve adds.

“Dude, who’s telling the story?”

“You’re not doing it well. She’s crazy about him.”

He sighs, annoyed. “You don’t know that. We barely know each other.” Bucky reasons, but deep down where he doesn’t have to admit it out loud, he likes the possibility of her liking him.

“Man, no girl that hot is going to hang out with some guy every night for two weeks when she just likes him as a friend.”

“Every night, huh? Sounds like love to me.” Tony interjects and he glares at Steve. “And you’re avoiding her now? Why?”

“I’m not avoiding her.” he says hotly. “You said it yourself, it’s been every night for two weeks, we need a break.” even as he says the words, he hates how they taste. Lies and bullshit. He wants nothing more than to go see her right now, to bombard her with questions about her day and to feel her fingers on his.

“I don’t buy it. Aside from the fact that you broke my door, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And the most normal, at the very least.”

“Will you let the door thing go? Fury bought you an even better one. You came out on top with that.” he snaps.

He grins widely and looks at Steve. “Aww. He misses her.” he coos and Bucky wants nothing more at this moment than to smack him through his fancy new door.

Steven, the traitor, has the nerve to laugh. “I have to agree with Tony. I don’t buy it. There has to be another reason you’re hiding out here with Tony, of all people.”

His arm beeps on the table and he perks up, looking at it. “Is it finally done?”

“I don’t think so.” Tony gets up and goes to look. “Nope, that was just part one.”

He feels his eyes widen. “Part one?”

“How many parts are there, Tony?” Steve asks, doing a better job of keeping his cool than Bucky is.

“Just two, but they’re both big files. Your arm is completely outdated at this point as far as technology goes. I’d compare it to the first telephone. I need to figure out a way to update the entire software system. Otherwise, there’s nothing else I can do. I update this every month, and the updates are getting bigger and bigger. Soon, I’ll just be keeping your arm on this table just to update it.”

He groans, pressing his fist to his eyes. “It’s going to take another three days to upload that file?”

“Maybe, I won’t know until it’s done. It could be less, it could be more. Look, if you like this girl, just call her and tell her you’re sick. Don’t leave her hanging.” Tony says.

He sighs, knowing he’s right. But Bucky also knows that she’ll want to come over and make sure he’s okay.

Tony walks towards the back of the lab and Steve turns to him. “Why won’t you call her?”

“Just leave it alone.” he shifts uncomfortably and Steve’s eyes drop to Bucky’s arm on the table.

“Please tell me this isn’t a pride thing.”

“What? Don’t be ridiculous.” he rolls his eyes.

“Oh my god, it is. Bucky-” Steve sighs, closing his mouth. “Are you going to call her?”

“Not tonight.” he hedges, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Fine.” he claps him on the arm. “Good luck with the update.” Steve shakes his head but leaves the lab without another word.

“Back in a tick.” Tony jogs after him. “Steve!”

Steve

Tony follows him into the hallway. “In all seriousness, if I can’t find a way to update his arm, he won’t have it for much longer.”

Steve sighs loudly and rubs his face. “Okay. I still have a few military contacts, I’ll put out some feelers. Maybe someone knows something that can help. Just... do what you can. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

Tony steps back inside and Steve heads towards the building’s exit. He has a pretty good idea of where he needs to go, but Bucky is going to be pissed at him.

Too damn bad, pal.

The drive only takes about twenty minutes. But then it’s another fifteen to find the right building. He’s read so many little white name cards he’s starting to go cross-eyed. He presses the buzzer and sighs in relief when he hears her voice.

“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not interested.”

“How about a trip to SHIELD?” Steve replies. There’s a brief pause.

“Steve?”

“At your service.” He waits for what feels like five minutes but probably was only one.

“Throw in a snack and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

“Done.” He readily agrees.

A few minutes later the door opens and Y/N steps outside, shutting the door behind her. He expects a smile from her but when she turns around, her pretty face is anything but pleasant.

“What’s the matter?” Steve asks worriedly.

“Is he okay? What happened? I haven’t heard from him in days. He keeps ignoring my calls.” She rambles before suddenly freezing like a thought just occurred to her. Her face scrunches up. “He’s not... mad at me?” She asks it like it’s a completely foreign concept.

Steve chuckles, holding up a hand to stop her. “He’s being an idiot, definitely, but it’s not over something you did.”

“I don’t follow.” She starts, her tone uncertain.

“You’ll see when we get there. Trust me, if he wasn’t so hard-headed, he would have come to see you.” He watches as she nods, but she still seems distracted by something. “Is there something else going on?”

“I was hoping...” she shakes her head. “I’m just being stupid.”

Steve opens the door to his truck for her before going around to his side. “If something’s wrong enough to bother you, it’s not stupid. You can tell me.”

“This guy came into the museum today to ask for my help.” She starts, fiddling with her fingers.

“Was he rude? Offensive?”

“No, perfectly polite. Professional. Shook my hand, thanked me for my help.” Her tone suggests that she knows how she sounds, but whatever it is about this guy, it’s not something obvious.

“Y/N, I’m trying to understand, but I fail to see the problem. Unless you tell me what’s bothering you, there’s nothing I can really do.”

“He was just... too nice? Too immaculate?”

“Too perfect?” Steve adds, understanding, and she nods with a sigh.

“It sounds so stupid but there was just something off about the whole thing.” She opens her mouth to say something else but shuts it again.

Gut instincts are to be trusted for a reason. “What else?” He prompts.

“On the subway home, I felt uncomfortable, like someone was watching me.” She rubs her face in frustration. “I feel so stupid! I’m probably just overreacting.”

“Look, you’re a smart woman. If you feel something is wrong, don’t brush it off. Be aware of everything around you. Trust your gut, we have these instincts for a reason. Give me the guy’s name. I’ll see what I can find on him. That way you can rest easy.” If it’s within his power, he’ll help keep her safe.

“Thanks, Steve.” She smiles wide at him. “Can I ask another favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can we keep this between you and me? I don’t want to freak Bucky out if it’s nothing and I’m just being paranoid.”

Steve considers the request for a moment. There’s no harm in getting all the facts together. If it turns out it really is nothing, then Bucky will worry and stress for no reason. He’s finally starting to heal and be better. “Sure, but the second we find out anything other than you’re just paranoid, I tell him. He’ll be the best one to keep you safe if anything happens.”

“That’s fair.” She agrees and he’s content with the arrangement. Bucky will understand why they kept it from him at first, he may not be happy with it but he’ll understand.

Now, bringing her to SHIELD, on the other hand, dangerous. Bucky won’t be happy at all, he may even inflict some bodily harm on Steve. But it’s a risk he’s willing to take; she deserves to know what’s going on. And whether Bucky wants to admit it or not, having her there will be good for him. Steve already thinks of her fondly because of how much she means to Bucky, and how much she’s helped him already.

He pulls into his parking space and they both climb out, heading for the front door.

“So, what’s the protocol here? They’re not going to take blood samples are they?” She asks and Steve grins.

“Not a fan of needles?”

“Something like that.”

“Nah, nothing too invasive. We just have to take a tissue sample, run a background check, run your fingerprints.” Steve shrugs casually, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

She doesn’t disappoint. Stopping, she turns fully to stare at him. “I’d hate to see your version of invasive.” She says and he laughs.

“Just sign in and get your visitor badge.” He gestures to the marble-topped desk where a guest book is laying open. She picks up the pen and signs it quickly, her elegant script standing out among all the others. She clips the visitor’s badge to her shirt as Steve leads her over to the elevators.

It’s silent for a minute as the car rides up. Then a thought occurs to Steve. “I should probably warn you; Bucky isn’t going to be happy.”

She looks up at him. “Because you’re bringing me? I thought you said-”

“He wants to see you, I can see it in his face, but he’s being a prideful bastard. Tony... well, Tony has his arm.”

“Has his arm?” She repeats, her pretty face going blank. “The whole thing?”

“No, just part of it.” He replies sarcastically. “Yes, the whole thing. And Bucky is being...” he glances at her. “Well, he’s being a man about it, letting his ego get in the way. Just, something to keep in mind when you see him.”

Y/N nods and falls silent. Steve can’t help but wonder what she’s thinking about, however, before he has time to ask-the doors open.

“This way.” He leads her out and down the hall to the lab. He holds the door open for her and she steps inside and stops dead. Steve touches her arm gently. “He’s over here.”

***

You don’t know what you were expecting when you walked into the room, but the sheer number of high-tech machines surprises you into stopping in your tracks. You can feel Steve behind you as he nearly walks into you.

He lightly presses his fingers to your arm. “He’s over here.” He says quietly, leading you around a corner of sorts.

Bucky is leaning against a metal counter, head hanging as his flesh arm is braced against the counter behind him. Somehow, he seems less bulky with only one arm. The other one is laying on a table hooked up to cords. He definitely seems a little more vulnerable without it, you can easily see why he doesn’t want you around.

You had a scathing comment all ready to fire at him for being so stupid but seeing him now, you realize that wouldn’t help. You swallow it down and take a step forward.

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding for three days.” You say and his head snaps up fast.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He snaps and you try not to feel offended.

“Steve brought me.” You take another step forward, looking around at the machines, an idea forming, maybe part of an answer to his problem. “I have to say, if you’re going to avoid me, this is a good place to do it. I would hide out here, too.” You don’t miss the way his eyes slide over to his best friend behind you, hardening into ice.

“Steve.”

“You were being ridiculous. I had to do something. And she’s here now, so... you know... you’re welcome.”

Bucky’s eyes get wide and you can’t help but chuckle a little.

“Probably not the best lead, Steve.” You tell him, taking another step towards Bucky. His eyes move back to you and you still see the anger there, but there’s something else. It takes you a minute to place it because you’ve never seen it on him before, fear.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve asks, looking around.

“I may have threatened to rip his arms off so he may be hiding.” Bucky admits.

You break into a grin. “That wasn’t very nice, was it?” You take the last few steps and lean against the table next to him before he can move.

“He deserves it. After you left, he kept harping on me and I got annoyed.”

You lean your head against his shoulder, getting comfortable. “Will I get to meet him?”

“I guess. If you want to.” Bucky sighs, his arm tightening around your shoulders.

“Barnes! Are you calm now? Or do I have to call your boyfriend?” A voice calls from the back of the lab.

“Why don’t you come find out, Stark?” He calls back, his voice vibrates through you.

“Will you at least text your girl? You can blame it on me and tell her I banned phones in the lab.”

“You mentioned that already.” Bucky replies with a grin down at you.

“That’s what you were gonna tell me?” You ask incredulously. Raising your voice, you continue, “you know no one actually believes that, right?”

“Why do you think I didn’t actually say it? I’m not out to insult you.”

“Who’s that? Is that her?” Footsteps hurry forward.

“So, I might have an idea.” You whisper to Bucky. He looks down at you curiously as a man appears in the doorway.

“Wow, Barnes, I’m impressed. Hello, I’m Tony.” He offers his hand, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Nice to meet you, finally.”

“Has he been bragging about me? He has a man-crush on me.”

You snort. “Not exactly. I have a question. Do you make your own computer chips here?”

Tony opens his mouth to reply, but then shuts it, tilting his head curiously. “Why?”

“Well, I’m just wondering why you haven’t made newly updated chips for his arm.”

“They wouldn’t be compatible.”

“Why not? Because of the attachment heads? That’s an easy fix. With everything in this lab, you can make anything.”

“Well...”

“Bucky, can I see the inside of your arm? I didn’t get a super good look last time.” You ask and he nods, an unspoken question on his face. You can feel Steve’s eyes on you as Bucky steps forward and unlatches his panels.

You pluck the flashlight out of Tony’s hand and aim it into the arm cavity. There you spot a row of microchips nestled into a bar of receivers. You pull one of the magnifiers in front of you to blow up the bar. You study it for a minute, getting a feel for the technology.

“Is this Russian made?” You ask, nudging some wires around.

“How on earth can you tell that?” Tony asks.

“It’s obvious, really.” You stand up and snap off the flashlight. “Where do you build your chips?” You look at Tony.

He leads you to a workbench towards the back. “We don’t have any compatible.”

“Tony, Tony, Tony. Have a little faith, will you? Also, do you have a computer with all of his information on it? I’ll need that, too.” You scoot out the stool and sit.

“What are you going to do?” Steve asks, stepping up next to you.

“I’m going to help.” You answer obviously.

Tony comes back and sets a laptop next to you before moving away again. He starts gathering up some supplies as you begin to pull the tools you would need towards you.

“Bucky? Hand me those glasses right there.” You point up to the safety glasses on the wall above you.

“You’re making me nervous.” He mumbles, grabbing them and placing them gently in your outstretched hand.

You catch his hand and pull it to your mouth. “No need to be nervous.” You smile and press a kiss to the back of his hand before letting it go. Tony brings back over the boxes of pieces you would need.

You start assembling the first chip, not pausing to really think about it, just letting the pieces fall into place. Once you’re satisfied that you have everything you need on there, you set the tools down to let it cool.

Stretching your back as you straighten up, it cracks loudly. You glance around and realize you’ve been lost in your own head for a long time, a lot longer than you realized. Tony has gone off to work on something else, and Steve and Bucky are talking back in the room with his arm.

You tilt your head from left to right, cracking it before pulling the laptop to you. Searching through the different programs that make his arm work as a whole, you find the one that controls basic function.

You scroll agonizingly slow through the millions of code lines, adding what you can to improve the quality. It takes you forever. The lines are tiny and your eyes are ready to fall out. You sit back for a minute, closing your eyes and pressing the heels of your hands into them.

“You doing okay?” Steve asks, his hands coming to rest on the back of your shoulders.

“Yeah. It’s a lot of code. It won’t be perfect, I’m not as familiar with this kind and it should probably be rewritten better, but I’m not that good.”

“Well, how much do you have left?”

“About six hundred and fifty pages, give or take.” You answer off-handedly.

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, where did Bucky go?” You ask, looking around.

“To make some coffee.”

“Oh good, I’m gonna need it.”

“So, bad news. We’re out of coffee.” Bucky says, coming back and draping his arm around your shoulders.

You tip your head back and look up at him. “How can you be out of coffee?”

“Either that or someone moved it. Which would just be dumb.”

“Well, with the amount of code that I have to correct, there’s no way that I can keep going without any.” You sigh and rub your face. “I can’t even fix it all.”

“Who can?” Steve asks.

“Super geniuses?” You reply sarcastically, then you have a serious, actually helpful thought. “Well, I’ve heard of this girl, crazy inventor good. She might be able to help if we bribe her with something good. But, she lives...pretty far.”

“How far?” Bucky asks.

“Africa, Western Africa.”

“Well, I better make some calls.” Steve says matter-of-factly.

“If you can get her here, I think she and I can fix this.” You tell Steve and he nods.

“Then it doesn’t look like you can do any more tonight. Bucky, why don’t you take her home? You can come work on this tomorrow, Y/N.”

“You sure?” You ask.

“Yeah. Go home, get some rest.” Steve nods.

Bucky steps back and holds out his hand for you.

“Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” You ask Bucky. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I think I’ll survive.” He smiles and you slide off the chair to follow him.

“Goodnight, Steve.” You say and he kisses your cheek. “Bye, Tony!” You call as Bucky pulls you towards the door.

He’s silent on the elevator ride down to the lobby, across the wide-open space and outside. He’s walking slowly so you can keep up with him, but still silent.

“Are you mad that I came tonight?” You ask quietly.

He looks down at you, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because now you’re not speaking.”

“I’m just thinking. Definitely not mad at you.” He pulls you tight against his side. “Are you kidding? You were the best part of the last three days.”

“I can’t believe you thought I would care about your arm.”

“I don’t have a decent response to that, so I’m just gonna shut up.”

“Probably a good call.”

“So, how forward would it be if I showed up tomorrow to walk you to work?”

“It would be worse for you if you didn’t. Trust me.” You grin, poking his side.

A cold shiver trickles down your spine and you stop dead, looking around. You’re definitely being watched. You glance up to the windows on the side of the building but no one is looking out of them.

“What’s the matter?” Bucky asks.

You want to tell him but there’s just so many benign explanations that you still don’t want to worry him over nothing.

“So, does this mean we can have dinner at your place now?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him as you continue walking.

“Yes. I will pick you up from work, and then we can finally have dinner.”

“Excellent.”

You walk in silence for a while, his arm wrapped around you and you couldn’t be happier. The implications of your happiness aren’t lost on you, you know what will happen if you fall in love but as long as he’s your favored, you can claim it’s all an act, that this is what he needed to get going again.

But you know the truth.

And it scares the Tartarus out of you.

He walks you up to your apartment, hesitating outside your door again. If he leaves you a second time without a kiss, you’re going to throttle him.

“You’re coming tomorrow morning, right?” You ask, tilting your head to look up at him.

“I’ll be here.” He promises, taking your hand gently. You lift it to his face, cupping his cheek softly. He lowers his face to yours and you meet him the rest of the way, capturing his lips with yours. Your skin prickles, nerves coming alive as he kisses you, backing you into your door slightly. Your fingers slide into his hair, curling into the strands and scraping against his scalp.

He pulls away breathlessly, his eyes unfocused. “I should go.” He mumbles.

You nod, hating to watch him leave. “Tomorrow morning.” You remind him. He smiles at you and turns for the stairs. You wait until he’s out of sight before unlocking your door and heading for the window overlooking the street. You watch him emerge and he glances up at your window, a broad smile on his face. You can’t stop the weightlessness of your heart.

This is bad.

Really bad.

But you can’t bring yourself to mind too much. Not after he kisses you like that.

With a sigh, you turn and get ready for bed.

Bucky

Why is walking to her apartment so difficult? He’s walked home from there plenty of times. He groans in frustration and reaches for his door handle again.

“Just fucking open it, you coward.” He mutters. And yet, his hand hesitates just out of reach. He groans and pulls back, pacing away from the door.

“What are you so afraid of? She’s already seen you without your arm, and she wants to continue seeing you. She wants you to walk her to work.” He says to himself, pacing around his living room.

“And then what? Leave her at the museum while you go back to work and deal with Tony being insufferable? You’re no good for security with just one arm, so Fury makes you stay in the lab. You’re alone all day.” He sighs loudly and smacks his face a few times, trying to get himself together.

“You like being alone, moron. It’s better than having to deal with Sam or see Nat. Definitely don’t wanna see her.” He catches sight of himself in the mirror and points at his reflection.

“Listen here, you little shit. Twenty minutes with Y/N is better than three days without her. Get your ass over there and walk her to work.” He snaps.

He marches over to the door, flings it open, and steps outside. He barely remembers to lock it behind him before he’s off, walking to her apartment before he can chicken out. But with every step, his stomach tightens into a series of knots and he can’t catch his breath.

“Damn it, Y/N, what have you done to me?” He mutters.

Her building comes into sight and it’s like his skin ignites with electricity, nerves ramping higher and higher. He steps up to her door and raises his finger to push her doorbell. His hand is shaking so bad he nearly pushes the wrong one.

“Come on, man, get it together.” He shakes his hand as if that can expel all his nerves and pushes the right buzzer.

“Hello?” Her voice comes over the box and he can’t answer. “Bucky? That better be you.” She says and he smiles, despite his anxiety.

“Yeah. It’s me.” He replies.

“Come on up.” She says, buzzing him in. He pulls the door open and goes inside, her voice echoing in his ears.

He reaches her door and knocks nervously. His hand starts to go to his hair, maybe to flatten it down or fix it, but honestly, what good would it do at this point?

She opens the door in her robe, with a tank top and long pajama pants on underneath, a big cup of coffee in her hand. “Come on in.” She steps back, watching him.

He steps inside, trying to look anywhere but at the gorgeous woman in her pajamas. “You’re not ready yet?” He asks, turning his gaze to her living room. He wanted to be here twenty minutes ago, but now, with her swirling all around him, he just needs to leave. To get this over with.

“I called in sick.” She says, giving a pathetic fake cough.

The knot in his chest loosens and he can breathe a little easier now. “You did?”

“Yeah. I thought we could have breakfast, and then go back to SHIELD and work some more on your arm.” She says with a shrug.

“You did?” He repeats, stunned. She continuously surprises him.

“Is that not okay? I thought that since we haven’t really spent a lot of time together over the last three days that we could now, and under the pretense of a good cause.”

“No! I like that idea. I just wish I had thought of it first.” He says and she laughs, walking passed him into the kitchen, catching his hand in her soft one as she goes.

“Besides, you still owe me for that kiss you withheld. Don’t think I won’t be collecting on that.” She warns and he can’t stop the grin on his face.

“I genuinely can’t wait.” He says as she pushes him into a chair, her hand trailing around his neck.

“Can you use a fork right-handed?” She asks, leaning down close to his ear.

Her perfume clouds around him, seeming to seep into his skin, fogging his brain and he can hardly focus on what she’s saying. All he can picture is pinning her against the wall and kissing her for all he’s worth. “Um, yeah. I got used to it before I got the arm.” He answers nervously.

“Good.” She straightens up and steps back, leaving him feeling empty like he’s missing something.

It’s quiet in her apartment as she moves about the kitchen. He feels pressure on his shoulders, something weighing him down. He gets up and goes to the bar to watch her.

“I’m sorry.” He says after a long minute.

She looks up at him in some surprise as she cracks eggs into a frying pan. “Sorry for what?”

“Avoiding you.”

“I understand, Bucky. Probably better than you might realize. But I want you to know something, okay?” She puts down the spatula and walks around to stand in front of him, easing herself between his knees. She places her hands gently on either side of his face, her skin soft and warm on him. “There is absolutely nothing that you can do, or reveal about your past, or say to me that will make me leave. Do you understand? I don’t care if you have one arm, one eye, and one leg. I’m in this.”

He closes his eyes and nods. “I understand.”

“Promise me, no more secrets.”

“I promise.”

“Good.” Her hands slide down his chest and she grips his shirt, pulling him against her, kissing him deeply. Her lips are soft, sweet on his, and yet so urgent.

He wraps his arm around her, pulling her against him. She pulls back, her beautiful eyes closed as she rests her forehead against his. “I should make breakfast.” She mumbles.

“I’m not done kissing you yet.” He sighs and she chuckles.

“We have time. We can pick up where we left off later.”

“You miss the arm.” He says softly.

“I like the way the hot and cold feels. And I don’t like that you’re uncomfortable.” She pulls back out of his grasp and goes back into the kitchen.

“I’m feeling better.” He shrugs lopsidedly. It mostly has to do with the fact that she’s so accepting of this whole situation.

“Be that as it may,” she pauses and looks up at him with a soft smile.

He sighs and sits back. “Fine. We can finish kissing later.”

She laughs, grabbing a mug out of her cabinet. “Sounds like a plan.” She pouts him some coffee and sets it in front of him. He captures her hand, pulling it to his mouth, kisses her palm, inhaling the scent of her skin. Images of flowers, bright and full and oh so delicate, fill his mind. Peonies and roses and lots of others he didn’t know the names of. Soft pinks and deep purples and bright reds. So vibrant, so alive. He lets her hand slide out of his and his fingers itch to grab a pad of paper, but he doesn’t have his dominant hand.

Maybe she’s right, they need to finish his arm.

He lifts his mug and sips at the coffee, savoring the flavor of it. She hums softly as she cooks in the kitchen and a strange feeling washes over him.

The complete sense of domesticity about this scene. This gorgeous woman that he can’t get enough of, making breakfast for the both of them. The normalcy of it twists in his heart like a knife.

He knows he shouldn’t rush things, should take their time. It hasn’t really been that long in the grand scheme of things. It’s dangerous for her, he’s dangerous.

But he can’t make himself stay away from that look in her eyes when she sees him. Soft and affectionate, not disgusted, not terrified. She treats him just like he’s anyone else. And it’s been so long since anyone has done that.

Even Nat, when she came to see him. She had a hard time looking at him. She stayed across the room the whole time, afraid of him. It’s not her fault. She did what she needed to do for herself, to protect herself and he can’t blame her for that.

A plate sets in front of him and he blinks and looks up.

She’s smiling at him, teasing. “I think I lost you there for a minute.” She says.

“Just thinking. This looks great.” Scrambled eggs with fresh tomatoes and spinach, sausage and toast.

“Just breakfast.” She shrugs, bringing her plate around to sit next to him.

“Well, unless Stevie and I go to a diner for breakfast, mine usually consists of protein bars.”

“That’s boring.” She sighs, digging in.

They eat in comfortable silence. He can’t stop looking at her. The gentle way her hair falls like a curtain between us, the casual way she flips it out of her face. Her cheekbones are a work of art, her long eyelashes laying against her cheeks soft and delicate like a flower. He has a sudden urge to sketch her, to get her lines down perfectly.

“Mmm. That was good.” She hums, scooting her stool back. “I’m gonna jump in the shower really quick.” She carries her plate into the kitchen and sets it in the sink. “Make yourself comfortable.” She presses a kiss to his cheek and heads into her bedroom.

He slowly finishes eating before taking his plate into the kitchen. He draws some hot water and quickly scrubs the dishes, setting them to dry in the dish rack. He settles into her comfortable couch, looking around at all the pictures and artwork in her living room.

There’s a statue sitting on her entertainment center. It’s of a couple waltzing. The woman looks like she’s wearing a flowing dress but the only details visible are at the bottom, her sculpted back looks bare. She has her face tucked into his neck in an intimate moment, a private affair just for them. The rest of their world faded away while they’re in each other’s arms.

Bucky stands up and crosses the room to the statue, picking it up and examining the couple. His finger traces across her back absently.

“Do you like it?” She asks behind him.

He nearly drops it as he turns around. He sets it down carefully so he won’t break it. “Yeah.” He looks up at her in time to see her struggling not to smile.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” She steps forward and picks up her shoes.

“It’s okay. Ready to go?” He asks, holding her hand as she balances on one foot.

“Yeah. Can we call a cab? It would be quicker.”

“Sure.” He opens her door for her and makes sure to lock it, handing her keys back to her.

Master List

Tag List (to anyone I miss, I’m sorry. If you’d like to be added, send an ask. Strikethrough means I couldn't tag you)

@everythingisoverrated @dsakita @shreddedparchment @bitsandbobsandstuff @after-avenging-hours @alexblrus @thinkingsofamadwoman @i-dont-want-to-be-called @thefridgeismybestie @fortheloveofallthatsholy @crazychaotic @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety @redstarstan @septic-boye @justreadingfics @themistsofmyavalon @sebastianstanslefteyebrow @wkemeup @thiccbinch @glide-thru @moli1497 @ellaenchanted91 @part-time-patronus @janeyboo @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @thirstybitchqueen @uncledaddykelbo

#some rules are never meant to be broken #Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #paramedic!bucky #marvel #romance #mermaidxatxheart #writing is hard

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