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chris-continues · 9 months

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New Hire

NOTES: this work is a part 2 to this piece! I was wondering if I could make this a Vashwood x reader fic, I’d like your guys’ thoughts!

Read on ao3!

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

TW: drug use mentions, sexual themes (briefly mentioned), criminal activity

SUMMARY: Was it really the best idea to wait up on this guy? And the rest of his ragtag crew? You’d never associate yourself with corpos unless they’re hiring, but working alongside them?

That, you never truly considered.

TAGS: @vashfantasy @millionsvash @captaintweet @lune010 @h4venpha @astrathecowboy

Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the taglist!

This was a mistake.

That guy? From the bar the other day? Maybe him seeming a bit off was because he was a fucking rip off. Which was more than frustrating, because

1, you needed the money,

and 2, part of you had gotten your hopes up because he didn’t seem all rumble and tumble like every other person here, nor patronizing, or sickeningly sweet in hopes to trick you.

Perhaps he was the latter.

He hadn’t appeared to be not so genuine; nor a trickster of any kind, but it appears your gut was wrong once more, because he most definitely hadn’t showed up. The air was tinged with synthetic chemicals and flavored smoke, the smell feeling plasticy and artificial upon inhalation.

You sighed, breathing in a bit more and cringing at the smell before turning to see a guy, stocky, with a boxy mustache and build. A broomstache. Huh.

“You the new hire?” His voice rumbles, a bit of old man edge to him. You’re partly surprised someone can make it past 35 here; but life has his surprises. Your gaze shifts to the shorter girl beside him- she’s prim, cute blue beret and clean white coat she must keep impossibly proper. A corpo.

“What’re you doing with December’s newest graduating class?” You scoff, crossing your arms and slinking back slightly in an attempt to appear more at ease. The girl is irritated, shoving a finger in your face in rebuttal,

“For your information, I’ve been out of school for the past 3 months, and I’m plenty allowed to be here!” Her eyebrows furrow, beret slightly tilting to the side and ruining your surprise and the slight (yet little) intimidation factor she had.

You point towards your own head, mimicking an adjusting position to signal her of her hat’s uneven state and it takes her a second to pick up, eyes wide in wonder until she purses her lips with a hmph.

“Meryl Stryfe, newest hire of Night City’s biggest news outlet, Gunsmoke.”

Gunsmoke? Gunsmoke was nothing but propaganda for corpo junkies who wanted something to null the silence of their vast offices.

Nevertheless, her hand was outstretched and head hung high, and her pride was almost cute in a sense. Hm.

You took her partially gloved hand in yours, giving a polite shake and shifting your attention to the guy who’d already taken another swig of alcohol. You wondered if his thick mustache collected alcohol like a sponge. Evolution.

Mid swig, one lazy eye peeked at you as he rolled his shoulders, a few shuddering pops and cracks causing both you and Meryl to flinch slightly. “Roberto.” He offered curtly, about to take another swig before he burped and- eugh, you could smell the alcohol from here, yep, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten the chrome that allowed you to- yeah, ugh.

You didn’t need to smell that.

He reeked, and judging from the scrunch of Meryl’s nose she wasn’t too pleased herself.

“Aw, don’t tell me I’m late to the party!”

Oh, so he hadn’t ditched you. Heartwarming. In a half joking sense. You almost slapped yourself from how definitely not pleased you were to see him again, after your conversation from the other night had lingered on your mind. Along with his rueful smile at his tardiness, his bionic fist clenched and unclenched in a fidgeting motion, the metal creating slight clacking sounds each time he did so.

“Yeah, you are,” Meryl huffed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “and what’s your excuse?” It’s almost comical how she demands him for an answer despite his looming stature, Roberto groaning from beside you. “Leave the guy alone,” he sighs, “Got Red.. Winters to talk to.”

“Bluesummers.” She corrects, “And he’s high up in the Eye of Arasaka, he’s got Gung-Ho Gun status!”

She most certainly knows her stuff, could probably get dirt on anyone, you think. Despite her small feet she manages to trudge towards the doors of the Afterlife with considerable bravado. Respectable.

Roberto moves a hand to her shoulder when she opens the door, opting to put himself first. Her naivety is partly obvious, but thankfully the old man seems to watch her back plenty enough. He’s like her tired bodyguard, in a sense.

The usual scene greets you, partygoers and business behind the closed conference room doors in the back, or even in the laps of dirty corpo men and cybernetic femmes looking for payment. Your eyes almost have to adjust, enhancing themselves once more with the bright scene. At least outside there had been a semblance of fresh air, (aside from broomstache man, aka Roberto’s foul alcohol smell), but alas the night scene was the only scene in well.. Night City.

The guy in the red coat (you should really get his name), trails beside you, before Roberto gruffs out with a shrug, “You wanna lead the way? He sent me some half assed message.”

“Or you were too drunk to comprehend it.” Meryl retorts.

You have to forcibly hide your chuckle with your hand, the sound slightly muffled by booming music and bass reverberating throughout the room. The bright red coat the mystery man wears acts as a beacon though, his eyes glowing to signal he’s looking through messages.

“He’s waiting for us further back.” He states, taking brisk steps that you all soon follow. His face is more solemn, hard set as his eyes scan the room before zeroing in on a posh, angular man. Broad shoulders and lithe waist, yet he manages to appear overpowering and one of the people you truly wish to not cross against in comparison to some of the macho guys who take up jobs like crazy down here.

He looks like a snake.

You suppose his last name suits him, blue for his hair, but the summers part must’ve been cause of something else, as nothing about this man appears summery nor sunny.

Meryl begins, “He’s a well known right hand man of Knives Millions; we really hit the spot with this one.. no clue who the smoker next to him is though.” She rubs her chin, observing the slightly stocky guy beside him.

“Alright, alright, enough of your chit chat newbie.” Roberto flicks her beret with his hand and she’s about to fire yet another complaint at him before red-coat guy greets Bluesummers. He’s curt with his words, nose slightly turning up at everyone. Well, every man hiring is a bit prissy. They’re the lapdogs of the big corpos, meaning they need someone to look down upon when their bosses get too close for comfort.

To your detriment? That just so happened to be the men they hired. Aka, you.

“Master ordered an undertaker to assist with your mission.” He whips his head to adjust the straight locks of blue hair partly resting over his eyes, just as angular as the rest of him. “Directions will be sent out, tomorrow at 0500. You are expected to retrieve the item in question, which you will be informed of tomorrow. Provide your own transportation. Don’t be late.”

He clearly wasn’t one to mince his words, nor was the undertaker in question beside him. What did that even mean?

Meryl couldn’t keep a poker face at all, because she questioned it almost immediately.

“Undertaker? What lousy description is that?”

With a half smile, half sneer, (which you didn’t even know was possible), Bluesummers spoke, “It means he’ll be working with you. You’ll receive your

payment after the job is done. That is all.” He looks uncomfortable, waving the lot of you away. Perhaps the filth and dirty work surrounding him wasn’t to his tastes. How unfortunate.

The undertaker guy though? He looked at home, lighting a cigarette, placing it to his lips while extending a hand to red coat guy.

You really should learn their names.

“The name’s Nicholas D. Wolfwood, you?”

“Oh, Vash-“

“Needle noggin.” He clicks his teeth, giving his hand a solid shake.

Hooray! You wouldn’t have to admit you didn’t know their names later in case things went to shit and you needed help.

“You should send us the location before you forget- like last time.” Meryl berates, hands on her hips.

“Yeah, that was my bad, haha..” he rubs at the back of his neck once more, a pitiful laugh escaping his lips while Meryl is complaining about how the undertaker guy, Wolfwood’s, smoke reeks.

“Fuck, I need a drink…” Roberto groans, already making his way to the bar before Meryl is on his back once again. She really must be keeping him and his liver alive- if he even had a flesh liver anymore.

Leaving both you, Wolfwood, and.. Vash. Who’s left hand continues to drum against itself, repetitive click and clack of the metal a constant noise on the pause of your conversation. “So..” you start, looking between the two of them.

Wolfwood quirked an eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you’re new to the business, are you?” He rolled the cigarette he held between his lips, viewing you from sunglasses he most definitely didn’t need to wear in the dim lighting of the Afterlife.

“God no,” you crossed your arms, huffing, “Do you take me for an amateur?”

“Just surprised Arasaka would allow two new hires. Usually their big boss man is picky as shit.”

“Mm.” The lighting of the bar had tinged Vash’s hair a slight purple this time, you noted, following his traveling gaze back to Bluesummers. Who’d been previously gazing at your conversation. What, did he think you were going to pull something? Shooting up your favorite bar meant you wouldn't get to indulge in the drinks or mediocre food they had, and bullets were expensive. One bullet for a dozen donuts, if you’d recall correctly.

That enough caught your attention as Wolfwood followed both of your fleeting gazes, “He’s not up for grabs, don’t even bother.”

“As if- with a corpo? God no.” You curled away in disgust, to Wolfwood’s amusement. He guffawed, head tilting back as his throat bobbed. Although, soon his head snapped back up as his hand caressed his jaw. He harbored some sort of confidence and bravado only a few could pull off, and he did it well. “Just teasin’ you sweetheart.” He leaned back on his heels, catching himself once noting that there was in fact not an item behind him to hold his weight. Pfft, there went some of his bravado.

He caught wind of your snicker, as did Vash as his attention snapped back to you two. “How suave of you, Wolfwood, was it?” A Cheshire grin made its way to his face, the lights reflecting off of his orange shades in a slightly ominous way. “You need some help there?” Vash pressed on, expression turned a bit goofy.

God, this dude was a bit strange, you thought, zoning out slightly to their bickering.

You silently recounted the whole party in your head,

Meryl,

Roberto,

Wolfwood,

And Vash. Then of course yourself.

What was most certain was that an adventure awaited you tomorrow, and the capabilities of these new acquaintances meant the difference between life and death.

Then again, danger was unavoidable in Night City.

#chris writes #cyberpunk Trigun au #cyberpunk #cyberpunk edgerunners #au #alternate universe #Trigun #tristamp #wolfwood x reader #vash x reader #Vash the Stampede #fanfic #drabble #writing #writer #Vashwood #vashwood x reader #cyberpunk vash #cyberpunk Wolfwood

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years

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honestly THANK YOU for saying all that abt baghra bc i thought i was going crazy from not liking her??? bc i haven't read the books and only summaries of them on wiki and like. i dunno why ppl like her actually even in the show bc this guy, her son, is like "i wanna make the world better for us grisha" and she's just like "no." even tho he sees that she's MAKING HERSELF SICK from suppressing her powers! she's literally like in bed coughing in the flashback yet seem much healthier at the little palace. also like after everything, after her disapproval, after the fold, after centuries of waiting for the sun summoner.. he never abandons her. he makes sure she's cares for. he doesn't harm her. and i have to wonder if baghra has ever thanks him for that, for just not leaving her alone. like i dunno how im suppose ro believe aleks is a heartless villain when he still cares for his abusive mom like this. like has baghra even told her she loved him (honestly she reminds me of a classic emotionally unavailable asian parent but maybe that's just me). also im wondering if baghra ever told aleks that he had an aunt.. bc like.. now that u bring up her isolating him it's like hmmmm...

not at me being like alina... why do u trust the bitter old woman who literally beats u with a stick and verbally abuses u every chance she gets.. just bc she showed a bad painting... like.. pls use two braincells to see that who u figured out as his mother... is also using his protection..

like baghra could've upped and left with alina. but no. she stayed bc she knew she was safe under aleks's protection.

alsoim just impressed that after his first friend tried to drown him and harvest his bones... he didn't go into hiding???? he still wanted to make a safe heaven for grisha!!! HE STILL WANTED TO PROTECT GRISHA EVEN AFTER HIS GRISHA FRIEND TRIED TO KILL HIM FOR HIS FUCKEN BONES. like... this is the guy im suppose to believe is the villain???

honestly i feel like part of the reason why LB's plotlines seem so bad and disconnected (and sometimes outright racist but that's another rant) and why darkles is disproportionately more violent and villainous in the later books is bc she didn't expect the darkling to be so popular and wanted to stick with her guns of making him the villain. but also wanted the money from aleks's popularity. but like you can't have ur cake and eat it too.

Well thank you for sending this ask! It's very sweet and very passionate. I'm glad you liked my post! I didn't put as much thought into it as some of my others lol. I kind of just talked. But it was nice to be able to finally talk about some of the problems I have with both her character and the fandom/author's perception of her.

HERE is the post this is referring to, in case anyone's wondering.

👀👀 You've hit the nail on the head for so many things, here!

Baghra is extremely emotionally unavailable, basically to the point of neglect. She's also verbally and physically abusive, traits which I doubt were only reserved for her students and not her son. Baghra claims she would do anything to protect him, but I've known a lot of parents who have that mindset and yet still harm their children because they think it's "good for them".

Aleksander stays at Baghra's side for years, and even when they're opposing each other she's never too far away from him. Idk if you've read the books but he does eventually hurt her. And as much as I don't like Baghra, I think his actions were horrid. But I'm also honestly kind of surprised it took him so long lmao.

Yeah I mean, in terms of isolation, let's not forget that she never wanted to introduce him to his father, either. Baghra's sense of eternity clouds a lot of her judgments on relationships, which means she views most people as dust and therefore teaches her son to as well. The problem with that is that he's a growing child, and he needs those social and emotional attachments for healthy development.

I would bet quite a bit of money that Baghra has either never told him she loves him or she has told him so few times it's practically forgettable.

And everything becomes more complicated because so many of Baghra's actions are understandable because of her life and her history, but the impacts they have on the people around her, especially Aleksander, are permanently damaging. And the fact that that's never gone over in critical depth in the books or how it's glossed over in fandom is just very disconcerting. Like, acknowledging Baghra's failings doesn't mean we're excusing Aleksander's actions, it just means we're holding Baghra liable for her own. Which the fandom should be doing, considering she's the epitome of an abusive parental figure.

And Alina trusting Baghra over Aleksander is even more confusing! Especially in the show!! This is the woman who beat her and abused her and tortured her friends when they tiny little children (and who probably still does so now that they're adults). This is the woman who mocks you and harasses you and insults you on a regular basis. Why does Baghra revealing she's Aleksander's mother make Alina change her mind?! Like fuck, I'd just feel bad for Aleksander. No wonder he kept it a secret, I would too! And that painting is enough evidence?! Really?! A random painting shown to you by this abusive mentor that's been making your life hell. That's what you're going to betray your new lover over?

The friends trying to harvest his bones thing is a good point, too. I think Aleksander, especially show Aleksander, is incredibly idealistic. I think he cares too much for others - those he's deemed worth his care (a sentiment given to him by Baghra). Despite everything she's tried to teach him about hiding and abandoning others and never caring and never doing anything to help or reach out or connect with people, Aleksander still continues to do so. It's likely because he never got it from Baghra growing up, and so is desperate for those emotional needs to be fulfilled elsewhere.

His turning point, when Baghra tells him it was understandable that those kids tried to kill him because the world is such a hard place for them - that's crucial. And the reason it's possible as a motivating factor is because of that idealism and that desire to help and that desire to be everything his mother isn't. Baghra tells him this trauma he just experienced was because of the oppression of his people, and instead of following her lead and accepting that, going into hiding and abandoning everybody to their misery, he goes I can do something about that. I can make it so this never happens again. Which is usually how trauma like that combines with one's core personality traits at a young age, especially when there's none of the essential support systems in place to aid in recovery (ie, the role Baghra should have been filling but wasn't, because she decided to exacerbate the problem instead).

And yeah, one of my biggest problems with the ham-fisted "beating you over the head with a sledgehammer of evil deeds" look-how-bad-this-character-is! portrayal of the Darkling in the later books comes from the impression I get that Bardugo doesn't trust her readers. She's so desperate to have us hate this character and think him an irredeemable villain, not trusting any of her readers to engage critically with a morally gray character, that it feels quite a bit like condescending fucking bullshit. Which ew, I know how to engage with literature, thanks.

She really does seem to look down on a large part of her fandom, and imo, the infantilization of the female characters in her books seems to carry over to her impression of most of her female readers as well. Which is why the Darkling's character arc gets fucking destroyed. But he's still a good cash grab, of course, so she'll shake his dead corpse in front of the fandom for money every time she wants something from it.

Also! Another reason I think her plotlines feel disconnected (I'm sorry Bardugo I respect you as a person, but shit-) is because the writing in SaB is just bad. I mean, nevermind the absolutely nauseating implications of the way she portrays the Grisha as a persecuted group who's situation is never actually fully addressed as it should be, considering Grisha rights is what her main villain is fighting for (imo for a series called the Grishaverse, LB seems to be pretty anti Grisha), but her characters and story alone are just wrong for each other. They don't fit together.

And the ending is one of the main pieces of evidence in that regard! You can’t say the ending where Alina isn’t Grisha anymore is her “going back to where she started” when she’s always been Grisha. She just didn’t know she was Grisha because she denied that part of herself that she was born with.

Alina is reluctant to move forward or change, she struggles with adapting, and she’s very set on the things she’s grown attached to throughout her life. She also has some latent prejudices against the Grisha, and so denies the possibility of being Grisha for those reasons as well.

Alina’s lack of powers in the beginning of her life because she willfully doesn’t learn about them to avoid change versus her lack of powers at the end of the book when she’s accepted them and then they’re stripped away from her by outer forces are two entirely separate circumstances. You can’t make a parallel about lost powers and lack of Grisha status bringing her back to the start when she was always Grisha and she always had powers and she simply refused to come to terms with it because of personal reasons.

The first situation is an internal conflict that indicates a story about growth and a journey of self acceptance. Denying herself the opportunity to learn about her heritage and to find acceptance with a group of people like her because she’s tied to the past and because of the way she was raised is the setup for a narrative that tackles unlearning prejudice and learning how to connect with a part of her identity that was denied her and learning how to grow independent and self assured. It’s the setup for a different story entirely. The second situation is an external conflict that centers around the ‘corrupting influence of power’... for some reason.

In a world where Grisha do not have social, political, or economic power and they are hunted, centering your heroine’s journey of self acceptance and growth around an external conflict about... the corrupting influence of power (in a group of people that don’t actually have any power?!) just doesn’t work. It is literally impossible to connect the two stories Bardugo is trying to push in Shadow and Bone without seriously damaging the main character’s developmental arc.

The only way a narrative like this would work, claiming that she has gone back to where she started, is either a) if the Grisha weren’t actually a persecuted group and instead were apart of the upper class, or b) if the one bad connection between the two instances is acknowledged - that Alina denied a part of herself crucial to self acceptance and growing up, and that losing her powers at the end has also denied her. It is a tragedy, not a happy ending.

Alina suffered because she didn’t use her powers. She grew sick. It was bad for her. This was not a resistance to 'the corruption of power and the burden of greed', it was her suffering because she couldn’t fully accept herself.

Framing the ending as a return to the beginning can’t be done if you don’t address how bad the beginning was for your main character. You brought her back to a bad point in her life. You regressed her. This should be a low point in her arc. It should be a problem that’s solved so she can finish developing organically or it should be something that is acknowledged as a tragedy in it’s own right, for the future the world (the writing) denied her.

This is a ramble and it makes no sense and I’m really sorry, but my point is that Bardugo put the wrong characters in the wrong story. The character arc required for organic development doesn’t match the story and intended message at all. The narrative doesn’t fit the cast. She's got two clashing stories attempting to work in tandem and she ends up with both conflicting messages that fans still can’t comprehend in her writing and an ending that doesn’t suit her main character to such an impossible degree that it’s almost laughable.

So yeah, there's a few reasons why I think the story and the plot feels so bad and disconnected. I hope you don't mind me making this answer so long! 😅 I was not expecting to write this much.

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thismaydestroyme · 3 years

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Little Did I know Pt. 2

summary: in this short story, harry is famous, and he moved into a town during the summer to relax and potentially write some new songs for his upcoming album. i included some song lyrics from different amazing artists, and i pretended that harry and y/n wrote it.

author’s note: i wrote the beginning of this two months ago me being lazy i picked up where i left off because i’m too lazy to read through this. so if there’s any major fuck ups then…. i did warn you that i’m incompetent

word count: 3165

“I’m a SLAVE FOR YOU!” Y/N shouts out, and little did you know Harry was front and center watching your trainwreck of a performance.

Harry did a whole french inhale without breaking eye contact with you. “I really wanna dance tonight with you.” Y/N hears Brittany playing in the background which you pause the music, to see what Harry would say about your little ‘performance.’

“Really? A slave? don’t you think it’s pretty dramatic don’t ya think?” Harry says, raising one of his eyebrows. You know he’s just playing around, but you coudn’t help feeling embarrassed how he fucking witnessed… that. You don't want Harry to know that you’re embarrassed, so you did the next best thing.

“That fucking snake was huge. Did you know she was holding an Albino Burmese Python? I bet MTV wasn’t expecting that. Do you think MTV got filthy rich from that performance? Everyone tuned in for that performance and till this day it’s still the most talked about.” You ramble and spew out random information you bet Harry couldn’t care two shit about.” Harry has a smirk on his face, you bet he was enjoying you looking like a damn idiot.

You start profusely apologizing until Harry interrupts you, “Do you want to come over?” He says all nonchalantly and walks away without you even agreeing. You’re all stunned and weren't able to even say one single word or even move your two feet. Harry doesn’t need to turn around to see you not moving, “C’mon weirdo, don’t act all shy with me now.” He threw back.

“Fuck.” You whisper, but your feet finally start to move and your feet are heading straight to Harry.

Harry turned his head and started to smirk, but he kept walking which had you feeling some nerves building up in your stomach. You’re not scared per se, just you’re going to Harry Styles house. This is normal. This is fine. This is just a once in a lifetime opportunity.

Cool.

When you finally get to his entrance Harry is already inside and he disappears somewhere because you don’t see him. You hesitantly walk inside and shut the door behind you. When you turn around you couldn’t help, but notice the disarray this house is covered in. Your mouth gape opened, but you immediately brought your hands to cover up how shocked you are. You couldn’t help but gawk at Harry’s place. There’s a big pink couch in the center of the room which is covered in boxes and clothes. There’s a TV on the floor which doesn’t seem to be plugged in because you don’t see it even plugged in. You try not to be too judgy because he did just move in, so what do you expect? Harry having his life all sorted out in a span of a couple of weeks?

You almost missed the nice white fluffy carpet that’s underneath the couch. Even though Harry’s place is a disaster, you can envision what Harry is planning on doing when he has his stuff all situated. In the back of your mind you hope he might even invite you back if he does a ‘welcoming party.’

Before you could even investigate more Harry walks back in with two bottles of water in his hand. He’s already drinking out of one of them, so he handed the one that hasn’t been opened to you. You reach your hands over to grab it.

“This isn’t safe for the environment.” You states while unscrewing the cap.

“Well.. you belting out to Britney is an endangerment to our society, so I guess we both got the short end of the sticks.”

You immediately start drinking your water because you didn’t have your next rebuttal. You start scanning the room and hoping it’ll have your heartbeat settle down because you can feel it through your chest. Harry moves from his spot and starts taking boxes off the couch and to make some room for the both of you. He had to take down three boxes, so you could both sit comfortably.

Harry walks over to you, but you freeze. Harry was pleased knowing he had you all flustered. It was one of Harry’s turn ons. Harry sits and brings his arms draping on the back of the couch which would have you being in his arm if you decide to sit right there. A couple of seconds of you contemplating you walk towards Harry and hesitantly sit down.

“I’m not going to bite.” he whispers in your left ear. Feeling his breath in your ear made you slightly clench your thighs together, hoping Harry doesn’t notice. But knowing your track record he probably did notice.

You try to come up with a conversation starter that hopefully doesn't hold all the spotlight on you. You look down at her close water bottle and scrambling for something in her head.

“Now you’re shy. The last time I checked up you were coming for my head after that mishap with your dog earlier.”

“You deserved it. You were attacking Cosmo, so yeah. I was in fact coming for your ass.” You glance your eyes to Harry. You’re overly protected over Cosmo. Cosmo is your life.

Harry gave you a smirk. He couldn’t help but to admire your bluntness. He barely comes across people who lit a fire inside of him. They always try to please him because he is a celebrity, and people just want to please him- which he doesn’t mind, but he does wish they sometime bites back. Having you in his presence he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, little did he know, he wants to get to know you more.

“What do you do, Y/N besides piercing people’s eardrums and being a dog mom.”

“Ummm.. that’s a loaded fucking question. But you being Harry fuckin’ Styles I guess I have to come up with something to make myself more interesting and less… chaotic. Well I’m a 21 years old who doesn’t have anything to offer to this world. I live my life accepting I’ll probably be working at Newbury Comics. And on top of that I love music, but I’ll be considered unqualified because I have no talents, and all I could do is muster up some mediocre lyrics that I have stored in my notes app.”

Harry didn’t break any eye contact when you were summarizing your sad life. That created a pit in your stomach because you never experienced anything that could ever compare to Harry’s tense gaze.

Harry never encountered anyone in the span of meeting them baring their skin to him. He couldn’t help, but feel some sort of pride knowing he created a space for Y/N to be able to let your hair down and express herself in full detail. He feels more drawn to you because he knows what you’re feeling. The unknown is a scary thing to feel, but you’re doing that with grace without you even realizing it. Just accepting reality is the biggest thing to acknowledge, and you’re doing just that.

“What do you have on your notes? Could you even help me write my next album.” Harry shrug glances his eyes away from you.

You feel a surge of worries entering her body. You don't know what’s going on, and you don't like it. “What?! You barely know me. My so-called ‘lyrics’ could be shitty and cliche. What are you getting out of this? My humiliation?” You don't like being taken as a joke, but that’s all you could come up with this peculiar interaction. Harry sees a naive little girl.

“You’re pretty,” Harry says. And that’s all he said. He got up and walked out the room. You're left on the couch alone, and not understanding what he just said. Just a few minutes ago he asked for your help, and now just a few seconds ago he said you’re pretty. What kind of fuckery is this?!

You immediately got up and walked to whatever room you could find Harry in. It wasn’t that hard because Harry is in the kitchen.

“Harry! I need you to explain. Talk to me, please.” You say while running her hands down your face. You thanked yourself for not wearing any makeup.

“Uh, you beg. I like that Y/N,” Harry chuckles and closes his fridge door.

“Well…. I do find you attractive and I see a potential in you. I might be wrong or I might be right. There’s nothing wrong with finding out and seeing what you have.” Harry says. Harry isn’t afraid to look people in the eyes, but you sure do. You’re debating if you should take this risk. Harry did say there’s nothing wrong with finding it out.

“Fine. I will take that jump with you.” You say unsurely, but you have some faith in him and a little bit in yourself.

“Good. Now can you stop being tense and enjoy yourself. You’re in fact talking to the one and only Harry Styles.”

“Shut up, doofus.”

One month Later

After Harry made the deal with you a month ago, you guys have been surprisingly working together quite nicely. You guys wrote one complete song, and that song is now called, “Dirty Little Secret.” You can’t wait to hear Harry sing that song with his band because you’re pretty sure it will fit the band theme for his upcoming album. Harry doesn’t want to limit himself, but he does have an idea to make his third album mostly rock.

Harry didn’t expect you to be a fuckin’ genious. Watching you in the corner jotting down lines in your beat up notebook with a pen in your hand made you start feeling someway. You always appreciate the art seeing people enjoy what they do, but Y/N is truly gifted because she has no experience with producing music. One long night two weeks ago you guys were sleep deprived because there was a week where you guys would stay up all night to write and you would stop when you saw the sunrise. Y/N found her love in music because of her father. He was a huge factor that made her who she is today. There was substance in her when she would talk about the accent in a song, how she would bounce that off with the bar while you would play the instruments. Y/N is truly a force to be reckoned with and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would be like to have her on tour with you.

Y/N never felt more alive after her father passed. It’s like Harry woken something inside of her. You never thought you would experiment with music with Harry Styles, the artist for this generation. You’re not going to lie that you would watched all of his interviews and he would talk about when he write songs he has no boundaries, and it’s crazy he upheld that ideology because Harry made sure you know that there’s no right or wrong way, the only way is to play around and see how it goes.

“I’m going to get some water. Do you want some?” You ask Harry dropping your notebook on the coffee table that’s covered in rolled up papers and a lot of take out boxes.

“Yeah. Thanks.” He says. You nod at him, and you got up to grab two cups of ice water for you both.

Your notebook page flipped to a new page and Harry couldn’t help but notice to see “Bubblegum Bitch” written in all caps. Harry got intrigued, so he happily kicked the table so the book could fall, so his excuse could be, “Y/N it fell.”

Harry kicked the coffee table with his big ass feet and the notebook happily splat on the floor. Harry reached for it and started flipping pages to see that title again, and it took him a couple of tries to find it.

“Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

Don't care if you think I'm dumb, I don't care at all

Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

I'm the girl you'd die for”

Harry couldn’t help but not try to read all the lyrics. He wants to digest it all, but he knew Y/N could walk in any second. He couldn’t help but make a small gasp when he skimmed to the part of the song that had him falling on his knees

“I'm gonna be your bubblegum bitch.”

“Harry, what are you doing?” Y/N says timidly. On the outside Y/N is calm and cool and collective, but on the inside you’re shaking and screaming. Your songs are attended only to you, not for other eyes to see. You’re still not confident with your writing abilities when it comes to songs for yourself, but knowing your idol probably read more than one line of your song is having you want the ground to swallow you up.

“I’m not going to tiptoe around you and pretend Y/N. Bubblegum Bitch is amazing, fuck maybe fucking brillant Y/N. Shit.” Harry says he looks at you but goes back down to your notebook flipping pages after pages.

You’re stuck where you’re standing. Feeling the condensation of two cups of water you’re currently holding is the only concept you’re able to maintain.

Did Harry say that he likes your songs? Did he say brilliant? You’re not able to speak, all you’re able to do is walk up to the coffee table, drop the cups down and grab your notebook from Harry's grabby hands and collect your belongings. This is too much. You feel too much. You simply can’t right now.

Harry sees you picking up your stuff and shoving your notebook and pens in your purse you bring every time you visit him. Harry couldn’t help, but feel bad that he could possibly make you feel uncomfortable.

Harry stands up and starts walking up to where you are putting the last thing in your bag, “Y/N I’m sorry if me going through your stuff made you angry, but I couldn't help it Y/N. What I read was amazing, you’re amazing.” Harry hurrys out his words because he felt if he didn’t say it fast enough you would vanish.

You’re trying to hold back your tears because it’s getting too much for you. The last time somebody read your stuff was your father, and right now you feel like you’re betraying the intimate moments you had with him. He was the one you would share your songs first with him. Now that he’s gone, you couldn’t put yourself out there to have someone else read it. You turn back around and you try to give a smile to Harry.

“It’s okay, I- I just have to go. I’m sorry. We can talk later.” You push past Harry to make it to the front door, but you feel someone hand on your wrist so you immediately stop.

“Y/N, I can’t have you leave, when I know that you’re not okay. Can you please talk to me? Please?” There’s a hint of sadness in Harry. You couldn’t bring yourself to leave him without having the answer he’s yearning for.

You turn around and there’s Harry. His green eyes are pleading with yours, and you couldn’t help, but do what Harry is asking you to do.

“Okay, I don’t want pity. Okay? Tell me you understand.” You ask Harry because the last thing you want from him is sympathy.

“I promise Y/N. Would you mind if we sit down?” You nod your head and he walks you back with his hand in your hand. You both couldn’t help but feel some sort of palse running inside you both while holding each other's hands. It’s something both of you guys can’t simply forget.

You got to the couch and you both sat down, no longer holding hands. You adjust yourself so you can face him. “Okay. My father died a couple of years ago and he was the only one I let read my stuff first. After he passed I never showed anyone my stuff because it would feel like I’m replacing him. I’m not mad that you read my stuff- I was just surprised, and I couldn’t help it but feel sadness creeping over me. Once again, I’m not angry at you, I’m just adjusting to a new milestone I just crossed without me not realizing it.” You say, and you’re hoping Harry doesn’t say, “Oh I’m sorry” because you’re sorry to.

“Well, I’m not sorry for your loss,” Harry says and you couldn’t help, but smile and laugh. “but I’m not sorry that I read it. You have something Y/N and I know you told me you haven’t had any experience in music industry, but fuck that. You have passion and I feel that every time we write something together in the past month, I don’t think I'll be able to forget about you when the summer is over.” Harry says. There was so much sincerity in what he just said.

You thought it was all one sided because you felt so much being with Harry. You felt you were finally seeing a rainbow you hadn’t seen in a very long time. Harry brings so much out of you that you. Harry was always there when you were scared to take the first step. Him being there with you made it less scary because he was there every step of the way.

Harry didn’t expect he would’ve met someone this summer who would make such an impact on him. Harry thought he would do a lot of hooks up, go to parties and write for the entirety of the summer. But the universe had something planned for him. He met Y/N. He didn’t want to tell Y/N he that he found his first and only love, but he didn’t want to scare her. She could probably feel the same way or she only saw him as a friend but neither of them were ready for that big leap of faith. Even Y/N knew Harry is someone she couldn’t live without because he brings something out of you that you never felt in your entire life and that was courage and faith.

Y/N met her faith. Only time could tell if faith would lead Harry and Y/N the soulmate they both were looking for.

“Harry, I don’t think I could possibly forget about you.” Y/N whisper because you felt if you used your normal voice the bubble you guys created would shatter within seconds.

Faith is a silly thing because faith could have you longing for something that’s impossible to grasp or faith could have you leaving you vulnerable, but that vulnerability could unlock something you never dreamt was even possible.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles concept #harry styles imagines #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #thismaydestroyme #thismaydestroyme harry styles #harry blurb #harry styles fic rec

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babybluebex · 3 years

Note

hey bestie could you do a tom holland x reader where their at the oscars?

of course!! i love how this turned out (and in like so little time? oowee i wish i wrote this fast normally hehe)

nominee [tom holland x reader]

➽ pairing: tom holland x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 1.3k ➽ summary: you have big news for your boyfriend after he wins best actor at the oscars. ➽ warnings: explicit language, pregnancy ➽ a/n: i am manifesting so hard... masterlist/taglist in bio!

The auditorium was buzzing with conversations at every corner, and you could only look around you and stare. You were surrounded by so many people that you had idolized for years-- and Harrison and Harry and Sam, you supposed-- and it felt surreal to even be here at all. The Academy Awards were a big deal, especially to your boyfriend and his friends, and you could feel Tom shaking with excitement. You still remember when the nominees were announced: Tom had careened through the house, yelling incomprehensibly until he landed on the bed where you were still very much asleep. “The fuck do you want?” you had mumbled, and Tom had grabbed your face and kissed your head. “You’re looking at Best Actor nominee,” Tom had said, and you were awake and yelling with him.

You looked to Tom to see him leaning forward to talk to Harrison over Harry, and you laid a gentle hand on his knee. Your touch made him pause his conversation, and he looked to you with pure excitement in his brown eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” Tom whispered. He took your hand and raised it to his lips, and he kissed your knuckles. “It means so much to me, baby.”

“Did you think I would miss this?” you laughed. “The Oscars, Tommy! If nothing else, I get to hang out with Ciara!” At the mention of her name, Ciara tuned into your conversation, her earrings swaying, and she smiled widely. “But, really, babe. I’m so incredibly proud of you, in a way that words just can’t express.”

“Yeah, Tommy,” Ciara grinned. “You’ve done so well.”

Tom’s cheeks turned red with the praise and he smiled again, and he softly kissed your cheek. “Go give Anthony and Joe a kiss,” he told you. “They deserves it as much as I do.”

“You’re giving me permission to kiss Joe Russo?” you laughed. “Best boyfriend ever.”

“Oh, please,” Tom scoffed. “I know that you’d leave me in a heartbeat if Joe offered.”

You kissed Tom once more and quickly stood up, and you moved past him, Harrison, and Harry and gave Anthony Russo a quick kiss on the cheek. “Hi, Tony,” you said with a smile. “Congratulations on everything. And you too, Mr. Joe Russo!”

Joe turned to you and extended his hands, and you wrapped him a big, tight hug. “Congrats, both of you,” you said. “This movie means so much to a lot of people, man. You deserve all of the awards possible.”

Joe pulled out of the hug and briefly kissed your cheek. “Congratulations to you, dear,” Joe told you, holding your hands tightly. You were aware of the press flashing pictures of the both of you, and you knew that tomorrow’s headlines would read Tom Holland’s Girlfriend and Joe Russo Are Our Ultimate BFF Goals or some shit equivalent. “Tom is a hell of an actor and a gentleman. I’m happy for you both.”

You smiled and whispered, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

You leaned in and cupped your hand by his ear, sure that Tom was watching you. He was surprisingly good at reading lips, and you wanted to keep the surprise. “I’m pregnant,” you whispered. “And I’m going to tell Tommy tonight.”

Joe laughed, and he said, “Your secret is safe with me, babe. Go back and give your man a big kiss; he needs it.”

You nodded and kissed Joe once more, and you moved back to your seat. The custom Dior dress gave you a bit of a struggle, but Tom’s hands caught you and helped you settle back in the seat. You quickly put your hand on the back of Tom’s neck and kissed him, and Tom laughed before kissing back. “Kiss for the cameras, huh?” he asked.

“No,” you said. “Just for you. You know that, if it was for the cameras, it would be a lot more than that.” You took Tom’s hand and held it tightly as the lights dimmed back down, signaling the return from commercial break. Tom’s foot was shaking as it usually did when he was nervous, and you laid a gentle hand on his thigh. It was flattering to know that even your gentlest touch helped soothe Tom, and he let out a heavy breath.

“And the nominees for Best Actor are… Tom Holland, Cherry!” There was raucous applause as clips from the movie played on screens all around the auditorium, and Tom’s smile was a mile wide. The other nominees were announced, but you hardly paid attention. You knew Tom was going to win. You just knew it.

“And the winner is… Tom Holland, Cherry!”

Harrison and Harry were yelling like typical boys and slapping Tom on the back as he edged out of the aisle to accept his award, and Ciara grabbed your hand in excitement. “I told him!” she exclaimed. “I told him that he’d win, and he didn’t believe me!”

Tom glowed underneath the stage lights, and you smiled as you watched him fiddle with his pockets. Dom and Nikki had twisted his arm last minute and convinced him to write an acceptance speech, and you could tell that he was thankful for it. “Oh, wowie,” Tom said, and you laughed at your goofy man. “This is amazing. Umm, big thanks to the Russo brothers for directing this movie and helping me perfect this performance. It’s such an important story to tell and I only hope that I did a good job. I guess I did. Hell… Thanks to Ciara Bravo, the best co-star anyone could ask for, and my brothers and parents for standing behind me the whole way, and-and, who else? Oh, God, they’re flashing the light at me-- Y/N! Thank you, baby, I love you so much, thank you for tolerating me whining about the heat and my itchy haircut and-and everything, I love you to pieces.”

Tom hugged you so tightly that he lifted you off the ground, and you saw tears in his eyes. “Are you crying, Best Actor?” you giggled, wiping his tears from his cheeks.

“Marry me,” Tom said quickly.

“What?” you asked, even though you had heard every word he said. “Marry you? Tommy, really?”

“Fuck, I never wanna live another day without you,” Tom said, his hands tight on your waist. “Wait, the ring… Shit! Dad has the ring! Harry, doesn’t Dad have--”

“Tommy,” you said quickly, putting your hand on Tom’s face and directing his erratic attention back to you. “You’re gonna be a dad.”

Tom blinked. He didn’t seem like he fully grasped what you had said. “I…” He said finally and swallowed heavily. “I am? Me?”

“Yes,” you laughed, your heart racing a mile a minute. “You, baby.”

“You-You’re--” Tom stuttered, and he raked his fingers through his gelled hair. “I am!”

“Yes,” you nodded quickly.

“You’re what, mate?” Harrison asked, leaning over to speak to Tom, and Tom let out a gleeful, almost maniacal, laugh. “Y/N--” Tom began and laughed again.

Knowing that he wouldn’t be able to say the words for a moment, you turned to Harrison. “I told him that I’m pregnant,” you said, earning you another laugh from Tom. “And I think I broke him, to be honest.”

“Joe! Anthony!” Tom called. “I’m gonna-- We’re having a baby! Ciara--”

“I heard,” Ciara said, hugging you around your waist. “Congratulations. And what’s this I hear about an engagement?”

Tom turned back to you, as if remembering that you were the biggest factor in the baby and engagement equations, and he clutched your face and kissed you. It was a deep and long kiss, one that attracted cameras, and you giggled. “Thank you,” Tom whispered. “Thank you, Y/N, thank you.”

“Well, it’s sort of your fault,” you chuckled and pecked Tom’s lips again. “Oh, really?” Tom said with a smarmy smile. “You told me that you were on the pill.”

“I am!” you said. “I mean, I was.”

“Whatever,” Tom laughed. “One way or another, we’re having a baby. Doesn’t matter who’s fault it is.”

“Tom!” A reporter called. “How do you feel about winning Best Actor?”

“It’s amazing,” Tom replied, still gazing at you. “But not the best news I’ve heard all night.”

“Well, you seem happy about something,” the reporter said. “Care to share?”

“Yes, I actually do care,” Tom said, and he clutched your hand. “I won’t be sharing this for a while.”

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland x reader #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland fluff #request #ask #anon

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dlwritings · 4 years

Text

Not Prick | Tom Holland

masterlist found here

pairing - Tom x reader word count - 1,877 warnings - language A/N - for the anon who requested x

summary - A fan gets a little aggressive with Tom at the mall, and he takes it out on the wrong person. But he’s a good guy, and when he realizes his mistake, he’s determined to make up for it.

Tom was having a bad day. There was no rhyme or reason. He was just cranky and tired and wanted to be home. Instead, he was out at the mall with Harrison. Apparently his favorite store was having a sale, and Harrison wanted a new pair of shoes.

“Why don’t you just order them online?” Tom had asked as Harrison all but dragged him out of his apartment.

“I gotta try them on and make sure they look good,” the other argued. Tom rolled his eyes but agreed to go. Now, they were out, and Tom was regretting it.

By the time they got out of the store, they had been spotted by a bunch of fans. And Tom, being the nice guy he was, knew he had to stop and talk to them. He wasn’t going to be the guy who brushes off fans and looks ungrateful. So he painted on his camera-ready smile and chatted with the people in the crowd.

It didn’t take long for Tom to get a pounding headache. There were a lot of factors, he was sure. He was tired, he was cranky, and there were just way too many people around. Tom didn’t usually get anxiety attacks, but when he already wasn’t on his A-game, they kind of snuck up on him. Like now. He looked over at Harrison -who had fans of his own to meet- and locked eyes with him. Harrison could read the stress in his best friend’s eyes and started to try to come up with a way out of the situation.

“Alright, alright,” Harrison said with a light chuckle. “Tom and I have gotta head out. It was so lovely meeting you all.”

A few people whined and tried to protest, but Tom and Harrison just awkwardly laughed it off.

“What a dick,” Tom heard someone say. “We built his career, and he can’t even have the decency to stay for a picture?” She scoffed. “I swear, some celebrities have the biggest fucking egos. Ungrateful prick.”

Tom. Snapped.

He turned around and locked eyes with the girl who had spoken.

Only it wasn’t the girl who had spoken.

Your eyes grew wide when Tom stared at you, anger clear in his brown eyes. “I don’t have any obligation to stand here and talk to you,” he said. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m tired. I’m overwhelmed. I don’t always love leaving my house and getting followed by crowds of people. It’s not normal. I didn’t ask for this. So don’t say shit like I have a big ego when you can’t even begin to imagine what I go through when I step out my front door, alright?”

Tears came to your eyes immediately, and you had no idea what to say. The girl next to you -the one who had actually made the rude comments- was slowly backing away, afraid you would speak up in your defense. Instead, you just opened and closed your mouth a few times, then swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry,” you choked out. Tom just scoffed and rolled his eyes, and you turned and pushed your way past the crowd and to the nearest bathroom.

Your hands were shaking as you found a single-stall bathroom and locked it behind you, sinking to the floor and leaning your back against the door. You didn’t care that you were sitting on the floor of a mall bathroom. If you stood up for too much longer, you were afraid your legs would give out.

Shit, shit, not right now. Not like this. Not here. Not. Here.

You didn’t handle confrontation well. In fact, it was the number one trigger of your panic attacks. The first panic attack you ever remembered having was triggered by two boys from your high school getting in a screaming match in front of you. Their raised voices and angry eyes shook you, and you started crying. On the plus side, your anxiety attack stopped the boys from fighting because everyone was suddenly focusing on getting you to calm down and catch your breath.

So yeah. Confrontation of any kind was not your favorite.

You pulled your knees up to your chest and tried to focus on your breathing, but it was hard. You kept replaying the moment that had just happened in your head. Tom Holland -a legit famous person- just yelled at you in front of a crowd of people for something you didn’t even do. How many people filmed it? Was your favorite celebrity going to remember you as the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick? You weren’t the bitch who called him an ungrateful dick. Why couldn’t you just defend yourself? Why did you have to shut down like that?

Breathe, breathe. Don’t do this. Don’t. Do. This.

Harrison ushered Tom away from the group of fans, noticing his fists clench in anger as he watched the girl run off. “Wait, wait, Tom! Harrison!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Harrison mumbled. He turned to find a girl jogging after them. “Listen, we really-”

“No, I know, I know,” she said. “I just, that girl you yelled at?” She was looking at Tom. “She wasn’t the one who said that stuff.”

Guilt settled in Tom’s stomach. “What?” he said.

“I saw the girl who actually said that,” she said. “It wasn’t that girl. I don’t know either of them, but I just thought I should let you know. She seemed pretty shaken up, and I just-” She paused. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad or anything. I just didn’t want you thinking the wrong girl was being a bitch. It, it-” She stuttered, feeling foolish suddenly. “This probably doesn’t matter at all, and I should’ve just-”

“Did you see where she went?”

The girl furrowed her eyebrows at Tom’s question. “What?” she asked.

“The girl,” he said. “The one I yelled at? Did you see where she ran off to?”

“Uh, the bathroom I think,” she said. “The single stall down by Topman.”

Without any explanation, Tom jogged off in the direction of the bathroom in question. He heard Harrison calling after him, but he didn’t stop or turn around. When he got to the bathroom, he paused, his fist inches from the door. Was this necessary?

Yes. Mum raised a gentleman. You were a prick, and you need to own up to it.

You sat up a little straighter when there was a knock at the bathroom door. “Just a minute!” you called. You stood up and quickly went to the mirror to clean any mascara that might’ve slid down your cheeks. You flushed the toilet and pretended to wash your hands for good measure, then opened the door.

On the other side was none other than Tom Holland.

You felt a lump grow in your throat again as you hung your head and tried to brush past him. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Wait, wait,” he said, reaching out to grab your forearm. You stopped and looked at him. He looked stressed, and his eyes were sad. He looked like a completely different person from the man who yelled at you ten minutes ago. “I’m sorry,” he said, releasing his hold on your arm. “Someone told me you weren’t the one who said those things.” You pressed your lips into a tight line and looked down at your shoes. “Even if you were,” Tom continued, “I shouldn’t have snapped like that. I was out of line. I don’t usually snap like that. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, though your eyes were still trained on the floor.

Clearly, it wasn’t fine. Tom wasn’t dumb. He could see your slightly puffy eyes and the remains of mascara on your cheeks that you hadn’t quite been able to wipe away. He had done that, and that wasn’t okay. What had gotten into him?

“Do you like smoothies?”

This caused you to look up. “What?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you like smoothies?” he repeated. “Harrison and I were going to grab some on our way home. Let me buy you one.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you said quickly, shaking your head.

“I want to,” he said. “Consider it an extended apology. And maybe proof that I’m not a prick.” A small smile crept up your lips, and the sight made Tom do the same.

“Okay,” you said. “That sounds nice.”

Tom nodded happily, and the two of you walked back over to where Harrison was standing and waiting. “So what’s your name?” Tom asked as the three of you walked to the parking garage.

“(Y/N),” you said.

“Well it’s nice to meet you,” he said.

You smiled. “You too.”

Tom bought you a smoothie and invited you to stay and hang out with him and Harrison. Of course, you obliged. The three of you sat on the patio of the smoothie shop and had your drinks, chatting and laughing like old friends. They were both really easy to talk to, and you were quickly forgetting about the whole ordeal at the mall. Tom clearly felt horribly, and you knew it was all just a misunderstanding. Plus, everyone was allowed to have bad days. Even celebrities. You couldn’t count the number of times you snapped at your friends or family because you were in a bad mood.

When you finished with your drinks, the boys offered to drive you home. You accepted, considering you had taken the bus to the mall. Maybe you were being naive, taking a ride from two boys you didn’t know, but you highly doubted you were going to get kidnapped by Tom Holland and Harrison Osterfield. Again, maybe you were being naive.

But you gave them directions to your apartment, and you arrived unscathed. “Let me walk you to your door,” Tom said.

“Okay,” you said. You smiled at Harrison. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he said back. Tom walked you to your door with his hands shoved in his pockets.

“So,” he said, “I just want to apologize again for what I said.”

“It’s really not a big deal,” you said. “I understand. You’re allowed the occasional bad day. And to be fair, what that girl said was really rude. I get why you-”

Tom cut you off by placing a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed and put your hand where his lips had been. “What was that for?” you asked with a shy smile. Tom held back a smile of his own and shrugged.

“I just think you’re sweet,” he said. “And I liked spending the afternoon with you.”

You laughed lightly. “I liked spending the afternoon with you, too.”

“Could I get your number maybe?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s okay.”

You switched phones and exchanged numbers. When he handed yours back to you, you laughed at the name he put: Not Prick

“You think you’ll remember that’s me?” he asked as you slid the phone in your pocket.

You nodded. “Impossible for me to forget.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck again. “I’ll text you, then.”

“Okay,” you said. “Thanks again for the smoothie.”

“Of course,” he said. “Maybe next time it’ll be dinner.”

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

add yourself to my TAGLIST

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland angst #fluff #angst #marvel #request

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wayward-dreamer · 3 years

Text

Life’s Lessons - Part 15

Title: Life’s Lessons - A Lesson in Finding the One

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 8,857 (texts, thoughts, song lyrics in italics)

Part Summary: Dean and Y/N find themselves so busy in the following weeks, that things blow out of proportion and they spend the night apart. Feeling awful about it the next day, they plan to apologise to each other but something unexpected stops them from that. Later, Dean and Y/N share a tearful apology, after the experience of nearly losing each other makes them realise what is truly important.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fighting, Hurtful words, Doubts, Insecurities, Guilt, Tears, Hurt!Dean (don’t hate me, it’s not for long), Hospital, Tears, Fluff, Romance, Smut, Oral sex (Female receiving), Dirty talk, Vaginal Fingering, Brief handjob, Unprotected sex (wrap it up before you tap it, people), A whole bunch of fluff.

Music: Leather and Lace by Stevie Nicks & Don Henley (Y/N driving home scene), Do I Move You by Briana Buckmaster (Dean and Y/N date night scene), Ramble On by Led Zeppelin (Dean and Y/N end scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: Well, this is it. The last chapter. I can’t believe it. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for all your love for this series. I’m so grateful for each of you; every single one. You’re all the best. Epilogue will post next week, but happy reading and enjoy the final chapter! :)

Life’s Lessons Masterlist

Dividers by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check her out for all your AU needs!!!

Two more weeks passed that were incredibly busy for both Y/N and Dean.

Dean had been swamped between the old and new sites, trying to fix up people’s cars at the old and then working with Benny on the car that had come in for restoration at the old site, but they moved it to the new. They had gotten this big job a few months ago, and had started then but moving it over to the new site had been a good decision as everything was more open and had more room to move around. They had so many people calling in with every model of car Dean had ever heard of, in different states and different forms of restoration that needed to be done. There were only so many they could book, and had to eventually tell people they couldn’t take any more for the next few months.

He had been coming home later and later, and barely had time to even kiss Y/N let alone do anything else. He really couldn’t wait until they hired a few more people and he could finally go back to his regular hours. They were in the middle of the hiring process too; yet another reason they had been so busy.

Y/N had a lot going on at school as well. There had big tests she had given her students in both grades and had a lot of grading to do. While that was happening, she also had to plan lessons for the new content they had to cover, while also taking on a few tutoring duties after school for the kids that really needed help, in order to get to the high school level by September.

She had been coming home later than usual, but then she would cook and leave something for Dean to eat so that when he came back late, he wouldn’t come to bed absolutely starving. She had barely seen him, always falling asleep before he got home because she was so exhausted herself.

She really hoped things would slow down soon for both of them so that they could have more time together.

Y/N was in the middle of grading tests when she heard the front door open and close, and then Dean’s boots in the hallway. She usually did her work in her office at her own house but considering she had just made a quick and easy pasta for dinner over at Dean’s, she decided to sit at the dining table after eating and grade the papers there.

“Hey, sweetheart” Dean muttered as he saw her, sounding completely wrecked.

She looked up at him, offering a small smile. “Hey. Food’s still hot, so eat up.” She went back to her grading as she heard him wash up and then sat down with his food, across from her at the table.

“How was your day?” he asked, taking a bite and looking at her.

“Busy” she replied, not looking up from the tests in front of her. She pushed her glasses up as they slid down her nose but made no move to look up at him.

Dean frowned as he saw her so engrossed in her work that she didn’t even look at him. He really wanted to take a few minutes to just be with her, considering they had barely talked in the last two weeks.

“Y/N, can’t you put that away for a while?” he asked, trying not to sound too frustrated.

“No, I can’t, Dean. This is important; I’ve been so behind with grading, and the kids are really getting antsy about their scores” she replied, shaking her head as she continued to look down.

“Sweetheart… we’ve barely seen each other. You can finish that in the morning too” he countered.

“I’m almost done, Dean. Please, just… let me finish. You can keep talking, I’m listening, okay?” She was irritable and really hoped he wouldn’t push any further.

“Yeah. Okay” he mumbled as he continued to eat. “Maybe… maybe we can go out on Friday night. God knows we haven’t been out, just us, in a long time.”

“We really don’t have to” she said, quickly glancing at him before continuing her work.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be good, we can finally relax” he said, smiling slightly, hoping she’d look up at him and actually agree.

She scoffed as she shook her head. “Yeah, and then you can leave me in the morning like you always do for your top-secret mission.”

An eerie silence fell in the house as Dean stopped eating. He put his fork down slowly as he looked at her. He kept calm as he thought about how to broach this.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, calmly even though he was a little annoyed.

She finally looked up at him with her glasses on, and if it was any other day, Dean would’ve found it incredibly hot rather than scary. “It means that there’s no point in us going out on Friday night if you’re just going to leave the next morning and then not tell me what you’re up to.”

“Y/N, I need you to trust me, okay? I’ll tell you soon, I promise” he tried to reassure her, hoping she’d understand. “It’s something for us, for our future and I just want things to be perfect.”

“But do you really have to be away every Saturday? I mean, what the fuck am I supposed to think is going on, Dean? You’ve been busy during the week, the least you could do is spend some time with me on the weekend, but no! You keep leaving at the earliest possible hour and you come back late at night!” she said, glaring at him as her voice raised slightly. She got up quickly, the chair scraping harshly against the floors.

“You’re not supposed to think anything, Y/N” he snapped. “You’re supposed to trust me, that’s it.”

“Well, it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re never here” she scoffed as she walked away from the table and into the kitchen. Dean shook his head, following behind her.

“I’m not the only one who hasn’t been here” he threw back at her.

She laughed bitterly, and Dean felt his stomach turn at the sound.

“Really? Then what is all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the food on the stove. “I’m here every day, making sure you have what you need when you get back at god knows what time of night!”

“That maybe so, sweetheart… but that” he said, gesturing to the table with the tests on it. “That’s when you’re not here! I try to talk to you and you’re always so lost in what you’re doing, you can’t even hear me!” Dean yelled.

“Fine, then let me make it easier for you” she hissed, as she walked to the table and gathered up all the tests. She shoved them into her handbag, picked up her coat and put it on over her oversized sweater, to keep her exposed legs warm.

“Y/N stop” Dean said, shaking his head. “Please, stop.”

That was not going well at all and he felt horrible for even bothering her while she had been working. She was working. It’s not like she was ignoring him on purpose.

“For the record, this is my job” she snapped at him as she turned around. “And you holding it against me is something I’m not going to stand for.”

“Y/N, wait-” he started but she walked out the door so quickly, slamming the door behind her, he barely had time to register it.

He had the first thought of following her, but the second thought of knowing she needed space, stopped him. That was the first time they had fought, and it was bad. He had blamed her work for the reason she was distant, but it was the fact that he was keeping something from her that caused her to be so upset. Plus, all these days apart hadn’t helped them in their relationship.

He knew he had to fix this and soon. He just hoped he hadn’t royally screwed up.

That night after Y/N finally finished grading the tests, she angrily washed her face before putting on her pyjamas and getting into bed. She glared up at the ceiling of her bedroom, shaking her head. He was the one who was hiding something and then blaming her for being distant because of her work. She had to distract herself from thoughts and insecurities about what might be happening, with her work. He had some nerve to blame her for this.

Though… she hadn’t exactly helped by saying that he was never there. Yes, it was sort of true, but she knew how hard he was working at the new garage, while also trying to keep things up and running at the old one. She knew he loved his work so much and she never wanted him to think she would be angry at him because of it. She really hoped he wasn’t thinking that.

She knew she needed to sleep on it and figure it out the next day. She just hoped she could.

It had been a restless night for Dean. Not sleeping next to Y/N was definitely the biggest factor of that, but their fight had been playing on his mind all night too. He woke up to go to work and was yet to see her that day.

He hated that he brought her job into their argument. She was great at what she did, she was passionate, and she always supported him, so he had to support her too. He hated that for a minute back there he used it against her. He knew as soon as he got home, he had to speak to her. One night without her next him was enough to scare him. He never wanted to be without her, even for one night.

Dean: I hated not having you next to me last night. I’m clocking out early today, we have to talk, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about what I said. I love you.

He had sent her a message during the day and he just hoped that she would want to actually talk to him when she got home. He was going to make it a point to be home before her, so that she knew he was serious about this. He needed her to know that.

He was glad that work was a good distraction at that point. It was the middle of the day, he had a few hours left of work, and he had to tow someone’s car back to the garage. Hopefully he could continue to distract himself for the next few hours, until he returned home and dealt with the aftermath of the night before.

As he drove back to the garage, he stopped at a light and thought about what he was going to say to Y/N when she got home. He was scared and didn’t know if he would just end up ruining everything more than he already had. He couldn’t lose her. Not now, not ever. He really had to think carefully about what to say.

As the light turned green, Dean moved the tow truck forward, ready to head back to the garage. However, he didn’t have time to react as another car ran a red light and hit the tow truck on the passenger side, sending it screeching along the road a few feet away.

The last thing on Dean’s mind as he blacked out was Y/N.

The night had not been restful for Y/N either.

She was embarrassed about how she had reacted. She shouldn’t have doubted Dean and what he was doing. She always said she would trust him and now she made him doubt whether she did or not. She did. She completely and unconditionally did, but she did have her fears about what he was doing. If he couldn’t tell her, then clearly something was wrong. Or maybe nothing was wrong, and she was just a bitch for overreacting.

She was glad when she got a message from him saying he’d be home early. She knew they needed to talk before things got worse.

Y/N: Okay. I’m so sorry too. I do trust you, Dean. You have to know that I do. We’ll talk when I get home. I love you, so much.

She had spent nearly the whole day at work with this at the back of her mind. She was so distracted at work and everyone could tell that something was wrong. Some of the teachers had asked her if she was okay when she was in the staff room, but she just played it off like she didn’t get a lot of sleep. However, when Charlie asked when they went to the staff bathroom before their next classes, Y/N told her everything.

“I made a mess of everything, Charlie” she said, shaking her head as she leaned her hands on the sink.

Charlie shook her head, as she rubbed her hand up and down Y/N’s back. “No, you didn’t. Do you guys need to talk about it? Yes, of course, but you haven’t made a mess.”

“But I’ve made him doubt my trust in him. I don’t want him to think I don’t trust him” Y/N choked out, trying to keep her emotions at bay.

“No, you haven’t made him doubt anything, Y/N. He loves you, and he knows you love him, trust him. You just have to talk it out. He’s going to be the one to tell you everything, but all I’m going to say is that it’s a good thing; what he’s waiting to tell you. I promise” Charlie reassured her, smiling at her, softly.

“It’s going to make me feel even worse, isn’t it?” Y/N asked, frowning.

Charlie wasn’t going to say anything, but when Y/N lifted an eyebrow, she sighed. “Yeah.”

“Great” Y/N shook her head, closing her eyes.

“But it’s also going to make you feel really good, really excited, and that’s it. That’s all I’m going to say” Charlie said, trying not to smile as she thought about it.

“Okay” Y/N nodded.

The next class went on and on, as she taught the kids and distracted herself. She was incredibly glad when that bell rang at the end of the day and she could finally get home. She didn’t say her goodbyes to anyone, just picked up her bags and lunch that she couldn’t finish because she didn’t have the stomach for it and left the school.

As she drove home, she could feel her heart beating wildly as she thought about Dean coming home and what she was going to say to him. She had to fix this and promise him that she would never doubt him ever again. She loved him and she trusted him; she needed him to really know that.

As she drove, a soft melody started on the radio and she instantly knew what song it was.

Is love so fragile

And the heart so hollow

Shatter with words

Impossible to follow

You’re saying I’m fragile I try not to be

I search only for something that I can’t see

I have my own life and I am stronger

Than you know

But I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won’t be walking out the door

Still I carry this feeling

When you walked into my house

That you won’t be walking out the door

Y/N felt the tears in her eyes stream down her cheeks as she finally let out the emotions of what happened. All she could think about was how she did walk out the night before, and how she regretted it instantly but made no move to turn around and go back to him. How could she do that?

Lovers forever face to face

My city your mountains

Stay with me stay

I need you to love me

I need you today

Give to me your leather

Take from me my lace

The song hit too close to what she was feeling, and she flicked the button, turning the radio off. She was almost home, anyway.

She wiped her eyes as she turned down their street, speeding up to reach the house quicker. She parked in her driveway but frowned when she didn’t see the Impala parked at Dean’s. Maybe he was still on his way home.

Suddenly, her phone rang and she picked it up, frowning when she saw ‘Sam’ instead of ‘Dean’. She thought maybe he would call and tell her he was on his way, but as she picked up the phone, that thought was quickly replaced with worry when she heard Sam’s frantic voice.

“Y/N! Where are you right now?” he asked, his breath short as he sounded like he was rushing around, and he sounded scared.

“I just got home… Sam, what’s wrong?” she asked in return, feeling her throat constricting as fear gripped her heart.

“The hospital just called me, they said Dean’s been in an accident. I’m on my way but if you can get there before me-” he replied, but she cut him off as she turned her car back on.

“I’m leaving now!” she yelled as she hung up and pulled out of the driveway and drove down the road towards the hospital.

She tried not to let the worst possible thoughts enter her mind, but that was hard to do when it was one thought after another, constantly. She felt like she couldn’t breathe; like her throat was closed and she couldn’t even gasp for breath. She frantically pulled into an empty spot in the hospital parking, grabbed her bag and rushed towards the entrance. She went to the desk and tried to find her voice as the nurse behind the desk looked at her.

“I’m here to see Dean Winchester, he was brought in” she said through short breaths, as she tried to calm herself down.

“Are you his emergency contact?” the nurse asked, as she started clicking the mouse and typing something on the computer in front of her.

“N-no, I-I’m not, but his brother is on his way-” Y/N started but the nurse shook her head, sternly.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t tell you anything without Mr. Winchester’s next of kin here” she said, looking between Y/N and the screen.

“No, please, I have to know if he’s okay” Y/N shook her head, frantically, trying to reason with her. “Please, you have to tell me.”

“He’s with the doctors right now, but that’s all I can say. I’m sorry” the nurse said, giving her one bit of information she was allowed to give, which wasn’t very telling about Dean’s condition.

Y/N stepped back from the desk, letting out a sob she had been holding back as she drove over there. She cradled her head in her hands, letting the last several hours wash over her as she descended into silent tears, in the middle of the waiting area. Something could be seriously wrong, and she wasn’t allowed to know until Sam got there. She could lose Dean and the last thing that ever happened between them would’ve been that stupid fight. She felt the guilt settle in as she continued to cry quietly, trying to be positive but failing.

“Y/N!” she heard someone yell. She looked up and walked over to Sam as he rushed towards her, dressed in a suit. He had clearly rushed straight out from work.

“Sam!” she launched herself into him, hugging him tightly. “They won’t tell me anything, they said you had to be here.”

“Okay, it’s okay, come with me” Sam was being as calm as he could be, holding her hand in his as he walked over to the desk.

“I’m Sam, Dean Winchester’s brother” he told the nurse. “Please tell us what’s going on.”

“Dean was brought in after a car collided with his tow truck at an intersection. The doctors are with him but let me get an update for you” the nurse informed them and picked up the phone.

“Alright, thank you” Sam said, as he stepped away and sat down on a chair. Y/N sat next to him; their hands still clasped.

“Sam… what if he’s-” she started but stopped, unable to even say the words.

“He’s not” Sam shook his head, but he wasn’t sure whether it was out of conviction or denial. “He can’t be.”

“I fucked up, Sam” she whispered, as tears fell down her face.

He looked confused as he looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“W-we had a s-stupid fight yesterday, and I stormed out… and-and I-I slept at my house” she stuttered, not being able to say anything properly. “And now he… he’s here. If something happened-”

Sam turned to her, gripping her shoulders to make her look at him. “Nothing happened, Y/N. Dean’s going to be just fine, I feel it. And you didn’t fuck up. You and Dean will work it out. It’ll be okay, Y/N. I know it will” he reassured her, as he pulled her into a hug. She nodded against him, not trusting her voice anymore.

“Mr. Winchester” the nurse from before gestured to them, and they got up quickly.

“Yes?” Sam said, taking Y/N’s hand again. She felt like she was about throw up as she waited for the nurse to talk.

“Dean has a mild concussion, a cut on his forehead that the doctors sutured and bandaged. They’re going to keep him overnight for observation but he’s going to be okay” she explained, a soft smile on her face.

Y/N let out a harsh breath as she sobbed, hugging Sam tightly when he pulled her in.

“Can we see him?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he’s in room 302, 5th floor” she replied, checking the room and telling them.

“Thank you” Sam said, as Y/N picked up her bag from where she had been sitting and joined Sam at the elevator.

Y/N and Sam rode the elevator up to the floor and found the room, but Sam stood back as Y/N walked to the door. She frowned as he stood behind her, a small smile on his face.

“You should go in first” he said.

“Sam, he’s your brother-” she started but he stopped her as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“I know how scared you were when they couldn’t tell you anything. You need this, Y/N” he smiled softly at her. “I’ll be in soon.”

“Okay. Thanks” she said, reaching up high on the toes of her shoes and kissing his cheek.

Y/N turned the door handle and opened the door, feeling like the wind was knocked out of her all over again. Dean was asleep on the hospital bed, looking small in the big, bare room sparse of any color. The monitors beeped at a normal pace as she walked in and stood near the bed. She took in his face, a white bandage on his forehead, some small cuts and scrapes on his cheeks and hands as her eyes travelled down his body. She felt tears roll down her cheeks as she sat down on the chair next to the bed. She curled her hand around his, sniffling as she watched him.

“Dean” she called out, softly. “It’s Y/N. I’m here.”

She saw his eyes moving under his lids, as he slowly started to blink them open, flinching at the stark light of the room. Dean’s head felt heavy as he looked around the room, his eyes finally landing on Y/N. She smiled at him through tears and he felt his heart soaring as he saw her there, in the room. She was there. He was there and he was alive.

“Y/N” he croaked, trying to smile at her.

“Shhh, don’t talk” she whispered as she took the plastic cup of water from his table and placed the straw to his mouth. “Here, slow sips.”

He took a few sips of water and gulped it down, looking at her as she put the cup down. He gripped her hand in his.

“You’re here” he whispered as he looked at her.

“Of course I am” she said, softly as she leaned down and kissed his hand. “Did you think… did you think I wouldn’t be?” she asked, scared of the answer.

“I… I would’ve deserved it” he said, coughing slightly. “For what I said to you-” he started but she gripped his hand, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, Dean” she whispered, not wanting to think about that anymore. It was stupid in comparison to what happened.

“No, I shouldn’t have brought your job into it, Y/N. I’m sorry” he said, groggily as he shook his head.

“I’m sorry, too. For doubting you… for thinking you were being dishonest about something” she apologized, kissing his hand again.

“I promise I’m going to tell you… I just… I wanted it to be a surprise. And… I promise I won’t ever say you’re never here. We’ve just been busy, but we’ll make time. And I promise I won’t ever bring your work into an argument” he said, shifting a little so he was sitting up a bit more. She tried to stop him, but he was adamant on being to look at her properly and apologize.

“I promise I won’t ever doubt you again, or be angry about you working late. I know you’re doing it for a reason” she said, gripping his hand tighter.

“Come here” he smiled softly, as he tugged on her hand. She smiled in return and got up, sitting on the bed next to him. She leaned over as he lifted his other hand, pulling her in for soft, slow kiss.

She sniffled as she pulled away, more tears rolling down her face. “I hate that the fight could’ve been the last thing you remembered of me. I could’ve lost you today. And… they wouldn’t tell me anything until Sam got here-”

“Damn” he mumbled, shaking his head. “We’ll fix that tomorrow.”

“I was so scared” she cried, as she leaned into him, her tears beginning to stain his hospital gown.

“Me too” he admitted, as he pulled her in tighter. “I saw you before it all went dark. I saw…” he trailed off, not being able to tell her as her sadness got to him, a few tears rolling down his cheeks, too.

“I love you” she choked out, as she looked at him. He leaned in, kissing her harder than before, their desperation to be close getting to them.

“I love you, too” he muttered against her lips as he kept kissing her. “And for the record… there’s plenty of things I’d remember about you before that fight.”

She smiled at him as she moved forward, kissing him again, not wanting to stop.

“Oh, sorry” they both turned to see Sam standing in the doorway, his timing way off as he walked in on the emotional moment.

“Hey, Sammy” Dean said, as he continued to hold Y/N close.

“Hey” Sam said, sighing in relief as he saw his older brother looking alright for the most part. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Yeah” Dean nodded, as he leaned his head against Y/N’s.

Sam and Y/N both stayed until visiting hours were over, as they weren’t allowed to stay overnight. She didn’t want to be apart from him for another night, but Dean told her it would be okay. Sam had already called Benny and told him what happened, telling him that Dean wouldn’t be at work tomorrow. Y/N had made the decision that she would take work off the next day and take care of Dean.

Y/N picked Dean up the next morning, filling out his discharge forms, adding her name and contact information to his contact list, before driving him home. For the rest of the day, it was like she was still at school as she told Dean to relax and to give it a day before he started doing things again. By the end of the day, he was so tired that he was out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The following day, he was feeling much better and went to work for light duties, as Y/N also went back to work. When they got home, they relaxed and had a simple dinner, just spending time together that they hadn’t gotten to do in the weeks before.

Before they knew it, Friday rolled around. Dean was a hundred precent by then, and ready to take Y/N out that night. She had insisted they stay home but he had insisted harder that he was absolutely fine and ready to take her out for a much-needed date night.

Dressed in a gold, satin, strappy top and a black leather skirt that came to just at her knees, Y/N put on her black coat and black heels as Dean greeted her at the door. He was wearing a deep red, V-neck sweater and looks so gorgeous that she couldn’t think about anything other than ripping it off him.

Dean drove them into the city, feeling surprisingly okay about driving after the accident. He told her that had things been much worse, maybe he wouldn’t have bounced back to driving so quickly. He drove through the streets, parking in one of the side streets. They had a quick dinner at one of their favorite spots before Dean payed and then took her to where he really wanted to. They walked down the street, clinging to each other as the chill of the air blew around them. Dean led the way to where he was taking her.

Y/N smiled as she saw that he had brought her to a jazz club, walking through the velvet curtain and being brought to their booth table. The band was already on fire, a blonde woman singing her lungs out with a husky, whiskey touched voice that was electric. The lights were dimmed, a candle on each table adding to the glow. Y/N sipped her wine as Dean sipped his whiskey.

“This place is great” she said, smiling at him as she swayed to the music.

“I thought you’d like it” he smirked. “Think of it as an apology.”

“No, you don’t have anything to apologize for, not anymore” she shook her head, cupping his face. “It’s in the past.”

“Okay” he nodded. He looked into her eyes, smiling brighter. “God, you’re so damn beautiful.”

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks at his complement. “Dean.”

“Don’t ‘Dean’ me, sweetheart. It’s true. I know how lucky I am to have you. Especially after what happened. It… it could’ve ended so differently” he grimaced, as he remembered the day of the accident.

“I know” she nodded, but then shook her head. “Let’s not think about it.”

“You’re right” he agreed, as he leaned over and kissed her, quickly deepening the kiss.

“Alright, this next one’s for all the lovers in the house” the woman on stage announced. “Feel free to join the floor.”

A sexy, slow beat of the piano and bass started, as Y/N watched a few couples get up and move in close to each other. Suddenly, Dean stood up and smirked at her, offering his hand.

“Dean, no” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Come on, sweetheart” he said, wiggling his fingers. She bit her lip and stood up, taking his hand in hers. Dean led them over to the floor, and pulled her in close, his arms around her waist, close to her behind. She wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling at him.

Do I move you?

Are you willing?

Do I groove you?

Is it thrilling?

Do I soothe you?

Tell the truth now

Do I move you?

Are you loose now?

The answer better be

That pleases me

Dean swayed him and Y/N side to side to the beat, looking into her eyes. He leaned his forehead against hers, pulling her in closer.

Are you ready

For this action

Does it give you

Satisfaction

Are you hip to what I’m saying?

If you are now

Then let’s start swaying

The answer better be

That pleases me

When I touch ya

Do you quiver?

From your head

Right down to your liver

Dean’s hand moved up her back, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of her neck and shoulder blades, causing Y/N to shiver as she bit her lip and looked him in the eyes.

If you like it

Let me know it

Don’t be psychic

Or you’ll blow it

The answer better be

That pleases me

Dean leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. She cupped his face, holding him there, before he pulled away and winked at her.

“Let’s get outta here” he whispered into her ear, taking her hand in his and quickly leading her out, after paying for their drinks.

Dean and Y/N burst through the door of Dean’s house, lips pressed against each other’s as they pushed and pulled at each other’s clothes. It had been far too long since they had been together in this way, and they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

“Get this off” she whispered against his lips as she tugged at his sweater. Dean pulled it up and his arms through it, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He reached around her and unzipped her skirt, watching her push it down and strip her top off too, leaving her in a black strapless bra and matching panties, thigh-high stockings and garter belt holding them up.

Dean picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist as he carried her into the bedroom, dropping her gently on the bed. He smirked down at her as he breathed heavily, leaning down on top of her as he kissed her jaw, neck and travelled down her body. He kissed her breasts, licked a path down her torso and stomach, as he reached down and pulled her thong to one side, inserting two fingers into her already wet heat.

She moaned loudly, smiling as she felt the pads of his fingers rub along her walls. “Just like that, fuck. Dean.”

“I can’t wait to fuck you, sweetheart” he mumbled against her skin. “It’s been too fucking long.”

“I can’t wait, either” she gasped, as he thrust his fingers in and out of her, throwing her head back with a moan as he hit her g-spot with precision.

He moved his head down, his mouth finding her clit as his tongue swirled around the little bud. He moaned at the taste of her, not having done this in a while.

“Fuck, you taste so good, Y/N. Your pussy feels so great wrapped around my fingers” he groaned against her mound.

“Dean” she said, trying to reach for him impatiently. “Fuck me. Please.”

He chuckled as he moved away from her, looking down at her. “So desperate for my cock, huh?”

She whined frustratedly as she grabbed his hand gently and moved it away from her, his fingers covered in her slick. She sat up as he kneeled over her, unbuckling the belt and unzipping his dark wash jeans, pulling them down along with his boxers. She wrapped her hand around his cock, pumping it up and down along the hard shaft.

“Fuck” he grunted, feeling her hand against him. He leaned forward and kicked off his boots, taking off his jeans and boxers. Once he returned to the bed, he smirked as Y/N pushed him onto his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. She held his hard cock to her entrance and sunk down on him, letting out a long, loud moan as she felt him completely seated inside her.

“Fuck yeah” he muttered as he held onto her hips and looked up at her, looking so damn beautiful in that moment. Her eyes closed as she adjusted to him, her hair flowing down, her mouth hanging open. “Ride me, sweetheart.”

She planted her hands on his chest, using him as leverage to move her hips up and down, feeling his cock against every ridge inside her as she set a moderate pace.

“Dean… fuck! You feel so good” she moaned, wantonly as she looked down at him. She rolled her hips back and forth, as his lifted up to meet hers. On each thrust down, she circled her hips, causing Dean to throw his head back, his neck straining, veins popping against his skin.

“Fuck yes! Do that again, sweetheart. You know how much I love it when you do that” he told her. It was his favorite move of hers, that drove him wild every time.

She smiled with a naughty wink, doing it again. “You like that, baby?”

“Yeah, fuck yeah. I love it so much, Y/N. Love it so much” he rambled, not being able to concentrate on anything but the feel of her.

She hummed as she bit her lip. “I love it, too. I love the way your cock feels inside me, fucking me so good, so deep. No one’s ever fucked me the way you do.”

Dean let out a strangled groan as she began to bounce on top of him, tossing her head back as she let out a string of loud moans.

“And no one else ever will, right sweetheart?” he asked, gripping her hips tighter, as her ass slapped against his thighs.

“No one, Dean. No one” she shook her head as she unclasped her bra, tossing it aside before grabbing her breasts and tweaking her nipples between her fingers.

“You’re mine, aren’t you, Y/N?” he smirked up at her. She looked down at him and nodded, frantically.

“Yeah, I’m yours” she replied, looking into his eyes. “Only yours. I love you. I love you, so much.”

“I love you, too” he said, taking her hands off her breasts and curling their fingers together. Her thrusts became faster, as she continued to grind against him. She was close and so was he.

“Dean, oh fuck, I’m gonna cum” she said, feeling the coil in her belly begin to tighten.

“Cum with me, Y/N. Fucking soak my cock” he growled, as he drove his hips up harder on the last few thrusts.

“Fuck! Oh fuck, Dean! I’m cumming!” she screamed, as her body shook and the coil snapped, her eyes closing tightly. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her and didn’t seem to stop at all as her juices flowed out of her and over his cock.

“Shit, Y/N! Oh fuck, yes!” he shouted into the privacy of the room, his cum shooting into her as his own climax hit.

Y/N breathed heavily as she rolled off him, landing on her back on the mattress. She moved her hands up and down her body, feeling it wet with her own sweat. Her hand moved down to her pussy, smiling as she felt his cum dripping out of her. She closed her legs, wanting to leave it there within her as she looked over at him, seeing him smirking at her.

“That was fucking incredible” he huffed, trying to catch his breath.

She nodded, feeling her eyelids grow heavy. He saw her and smiled, standing up on shaky legs and walking into the bathroom.

Dean came back with a wet washcloth and sat down next to Y/N. He parted her legs, swiping the cloth against her folds, the warm water cleaning her up. She looked up at him with a smile as her eyes continued to open and close. He cleaned himself as well and tossed the cloth in the hamper of dirty clothes, before returning. He smiled softly as he saw that she had fallen asleep, as he moved the covers over her and got in next to her, pulling her close.

Y/N looked up at Dean, smiling softly as she leaned in, pressing her lips to his. She looked at him, taking in his green eyes, sharp nose and freckles scattered across it and his cheeks.

“You okay?” he asked, softly.

“Yeah” she replied, nodding. “Just thinking.”

“About?” he wondered; his voice gravelly as he lowered it.

“About… the accident” she said, feeling tears prick at her eyes. “I…”

She shook her head, burying her face in his neck, her body shaking as she began to cry. Dean held her close, whispering soft words to her.

“Sweetheart, I’m okay. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere” he told her, reassuring her that everything was fine. He knew she had been keeping a brave face after the hospital, and she finally let it all out.

“I don’t want to be without you” she sobbed. “What would I do without you?”

“You won’t ever find out, Y/N. I swear it” he promised, cupping her face and making her look at him. “I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”

She nodded as she wiped her eyes, feeling emotionally exhausted. She leaned her head against his shoulder, breathing deeply as she tried to calm herself down. As her breathing slowed, she closed her eyes, letting sleep take over her.

Dean closed his eyes only once he knew she was safe and asleep, sleep quickly finding him, too.

Light filtered through the window into the room, hitting the face of the woman sleeping, wrapped in the sheets. Y/N sighed softly, her eyelids blinking. She slowly opened them, smiling as she felt the warmth of the sun against her face. She frowned however, when the space next to her on the bed was empty, the sheets cold. As she sat up and held the sheet against her body, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon hit her nose, making her stomach growl from hunger.

Y/N dropped the sheet and picked up Dean’s t-shirt from the chair, slipping it over her body, covering her up to above her knees as it hung off her body. She walked out of the bedroom and down the hallway, the floors warm as Dean must’ve turned the thermostat up. She smiled as she saw him standing at the stove, in only his boxers as he flipped the bacon. His hair was sticking up in different directions and he looked absolutely adorable. She walked over and came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his torso as she leaned in, pressing her lips against his spine between his shoulder blades.

“Morning” she said, kissing him in that spot.

“Morning” he smirked, as he pulled her to stand in front of him. He leaned in, kissing her softly. “So… I have some plans for us today, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m free as a bird” she said, smiling up at him.

“Great” he smirked, as he took the bacon off the pan. “I’m taking you to see my secret Saturday mission.”

She looked up at him, a little shocked. “Really?”

“Yep” he said, popping the ‘p’. “It’s about time I told you what it was.”

“Okay” she said, a little nervous to know what it was.

“Hey” he said, getting her attention as he could see she was worrying. “I promise it’s a good thing.”

“I know, I just… you don’t have to just because I was worried. I’m not anymore, seriously” she rambled, but he stopped her by pecking her lips.

“I’m not, Y/N. I really want you to see what’s going on” he confirmed, smiling at her.

“Okay” she nodded, more excited this time.

“Good” he smirked. “Now let’s eat.”

After breakfast, Dean took her in the shower as he simply couldn’t resist her, and then they both got dressed. Y/N got dressed into a long sweater dress that had a split on the side, putting her long, black coat on over the top. They rugged up with their scarves, as Dean locked up the house. They got into the car and Dean drove through the streets of Lawrence, excited to finally show Y/N what he had been waiting to. He couldn’t wait to see her face when she saw what it was. Dean turned onto the street, moving forward down the road and cutting the engine as he stopped outside the house. Y/N looked around the street, a slight frown on her face.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Well,” Dean started as he pointed up at the two-storey house, with a garden that was still yet to be made and a large porch. “That’s the Saturday secret.”

She looked up at the house, blinking a few times. “Meaning?”

“Meaning… it’s mine” he replied, with a small smile. “I’ve been renovating it for a few months. There’s still a lot of work to do, but it’s coming together.”

“That’s amazing!” she smiled, as she moved forward on the seat and hugged him. “You could’ve just told me.” She laughed as she pulled away, but frowned as she saw him looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place.

“I couldn’t because…” he trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Because it’s mine but… I want it to be ours. When we’re ready to move, I want us to move in here. Together.”

Her eyes widened as she was completely shocked. “But… but Dean it’s yours. If something happened-” He cut her off with a small chuckle.

“It’s ours. I’m going to call the office and get you added to the contract” he told her, smirking.

She smiled, feeling tears brimming her eyes. “Dean, that’s so sweet but… we’re not married. Anything could happen-” he cut her off again by shaking his head.

“Do you think something bad is gonna happen?” he asked, really wanting to know.

She thought about it for a second. She had no real reason to think that way, it was just a precaution they needed to take, wasn’t it? “Well, no… but it would be messy to change things to add me, wouldn’t it?” she wondered, shrugging.

“It’s nothing we can’t figure out, sweetheart” he said, simply. “And yeah, we’re not married but… we can get married. Some day.”

She stared at him, feeling faint. “Really?”

“Yeah” he nodded, not missing a beat. “It’s all on the table, sweetheart. Kids were already there, right?”

She nodded slowly as she looked at him, not trusting her voice.

“Then so is marriage” he said, taking her hand in his. “So… you wanna move in with me when it’s done?”

She laughed as she nodded, excitedly. “Yes!” she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly. He laughed as he buried his face in her neck, placing a small kiss there. He pulled away, smiling at her.

“Alright, let’s go in and I can show you what we’ve done so far” he said, tugging her hand to move out of the car.

“Wait” she stopped him. “I don’t want to see it.”

He frowned, not understanding her. “Why?”

“Because,” she started, smiling at him as a tear rolled down her cheek. “You wanted this to be a surprise for me. And I want that to still happen. No one… no one’s ever done anything like this for me. Everything you’ve done for me… it completely floors me, to this day. I like it when you surprise me because you keep doing that… so I don’t want to see it. Not yet.”

He smiled at her, nodding as he understood. “Okay. You still gotta help me though. I need to know what to do on the inside and I want your inspiration. Maybe you can use your home magazines that you keep, and you think I don’t know about.”

She looked sheepish, as she nodded. “Sounds good.”

He leaned in, kissing her passionately. She pulled away, leaning her forehead against his.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you” she apologized. Seeing what he had been keeping from her made her feel so guilty, and she knew she needed to apologize again.

He shook his head, kissing her hand. “There’s no need for that, sweetheart. We’re good.”

Once they left, they drove into town. They felt like walking around, so they went to a few bookstores and record stores, picking up a couple that they liked or didn’t have yet. After, they had some lunch at one of their favorite diners before they came back home.

Y/N was so relieved that everything was out in the open, and nothing was as bad as what she had been thinking. In fact, it was all amazing. The house was incredible, and she couldn’t wait to see what Dean would do with it. She smiled as she walked into his house, thinking about their conversation in the car.

He had put marriage on the table. It probably always was considering kids were on the table, but this was the first time he’d said it out loud. In a flash of his words, she imagined herself as his wife, her heart beating wildly at that thought. She knew that he was the only person she could ever attach herself to in that way, and she was glad to know that he was thinking about it, too.

Dean smiled as she watched Y/N going about his house, making herself a cup of tea in the kitchen. He could so easily picture her in the new house, once it was done, the images of his dream returning to him. He couldn’t wait to spend his whole life with her. When he was younger, thinking on those terms was downright terrifying, but not anymore. Not when you have someone who loves you unconditionally and wants to spend every day making sure you’re cared for. That’s how she made him feel.

Later that night, they cooked dinner together. Dean’s lasanga that she loved so much that he made when she first came to his house for dinner. This time was much different, however. Now, she was helping him in the kitchen, playfully handing him things, as he stole kisses from her every now and then. One thing remained the same, however, both of them grooving to Zeppelin as they cooked.

Leaves are falling all around

It’s time I was on my way

Thanks to you I’m much obliged

For such a pleasant stay

But now it’s time for me to go

The autumn moon lights my way

For now I smell the rain

And with it pain

And it’s headed my way

Ah, sometimes I grow so tired

But I know I’ve got one thing I got to do

Ramble on

And now’s the time, the time is now

To sing my song

I’m goin’ round the world, I got to find my girl

On my way

I’ve been this way ten years to the day

Ramble on

Gotta find the queen of all my dreams

Dean stirred the sauce in the pot, reflecting on the words of one of his favorite songs. He had spent years, flirting and sleeping around with women. Years of rambling on, trying to find somewhere to settle, maybe even someone if he was lucky enough to ever find the one for him. He thought he had found a good thing until it went sour incredibly quickly.

Then Y/N came into his life. Shining like a beacon from across the street; something he immediately gravitated to. It became apparent to him very soon, that she was it. She was the one. The woman he had been looking for all his life, without really seeking her out.

She was the queen of all his dreams.

Dean walked up behind her as she chopped up some basil, kissing her head. She turned around, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him, softly. She looked up at him, her eyes gazing into his with the most loving expression. One he had seen several times now, but it suddenly felt like she was seeing him for the first time.

“What is it?” she asked, knowing he was thinking about something.

“I get it” he replied, knowing it wasn’t clear but also knowing she’d ask him again.

“Get what?” she asked, confused.

“Why you’re the one” he replied, not missing a beat. No pause. No hesitation. He leaned in, kissing her passionately.

Y/N smiled into the kiss as Dean pulled her in closer, resting her forehead against his. She knew he was the one for her too. After all the years of heartache and pain, years of wondering if she’d ever be good enough for someone, she finally found the man who would do absolutely anything to make her happy. She finally found the one she was always meant to be with.

They had learned a lot along the way, had spent months trying to fight their feelings for each other, before they finally realized they couldn’t deny it any longer.

They gazed into each other’s eyes, seeing nothing but love as they quietly acknowledged that moment as the start of something new.

Something new that they couldn’t wait to explore.

Together.

-x-

Tags: @flamencodiva @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @katehuntington @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @castiels-a-winchester @ellewritesfix05 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @supraveng @roonyxx @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester

#Life's Lessons #Dean x Female!Reader #Dean x Female!Reader Series #Dean x Female!Reader Fanfiction #Female!Reader Insert #Mechanic!Dean #Teacher!Reader #Dean x Reader Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Series #Dean Winchester Fanfiction #Dean Winchester Fanfic #Supernatural Fanfiction

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missorgana · 3 years

Text

words hung above, but never would form

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: mcu, what if...?

rating: mature

word count: 3500

warning: swearing, alcohol, major character death, blood, guns

summary: What might've happened after the zombie apocalypse broke out, before the last team of heroes was formed, and how Bucky Barnes lost Sam Wilson. (pre-canon fic to what if... zombies!?)

(a few days ago i posted this very painful angst fic i thought of after the zombies episode of what if...? so here i am dropping it on tumblr as well!! i apologise, please know that it broke my heart to write this. uhm. that’s all!)

read on ao3

It’s been three months since they lost Steve.

Well, since the world lost most of the Avengers, really. And since the world lost most of its, uh, regular people anyway.

It’s a dark world full of shit and blood and brains out there now, yet Bucky’s taking his cold shower in the morning and cannot bring himself to care much. Sounds harsh, he knows.

He knew nothing of this new world and new time except his best friend, so of fucking course, Steve being… not Steve made him feel like there was no fucking point to anything. If the Avengers couldn’t beat this zombie virus? Yeah, there’s no hope for humanity anymore.

Except… except the man who greets him in the morning, handing him a plate of pancakes without even asking if he wanted some and pinning yet another red pin on their vastly growing map of ghost towns. Those are fully infected spots, by the way. Nothing left but the undead. The map is turning overwhelmingly red overwhelmingly fast.

The man hovering at said map also hands him his coffee, puts on one of the records from their LP stash, and smiles his sunny, stupid grin before ruffling Bucky’s hair and telling him he missed a spot.

Yeah, the world’s become even more of a dog eat dog world than before.

But Bucky Barnes’ got Sam Wilson. And nothing else matters.

It’s ironic really, that when he’s gotten out of cryo, that he’s finally rid of the Hydra programming and torture and pain he’s endured for years, and at the same time, someone somewhere got bitten and humanity’s become a walking all you can eat buffet. Perfect timing.

Of course, Steve’s never fled from a fight in his life, so honestly? Bucky can’t exactly say he’s surprised. He is- sorry, was an Avenger after all. The little shit.

What does surprise him, however, is finding himself growing closer to Sam, Steve’s friend who for some reason, somehow, was just as intent on finding him as Steve was. And… helping him. Saving him.

Bucky never understood why. He still doesn’t. He hates himself for everything they made him do, he’ll probably continue hating himself for as long as he lives, no matter how much he tries to suppress it, but Sam doesn’t.

Sam fought for him, fought with him, visited him in Wakanda and took him back to a somewhat normal life before… you know. Now they’ve found a safehouse after losing everyone they had, except each other, and they’ve zombie-proofed to the best of their ability.

And life with Sam, well, Bucky could get used to it. In fact, he gets used to it very quickly.

Sam smiles so easily at him and doesn’t look at him like he’s a broken man who needs to be fixed. Sam doesn’t look at him with resentment, or pity, he just… looks at him.

It’s hard to explain.

Thing is, nothing makes sense. The violence that keeps on going and going doesn’t make sense, Bucky losing his best friend in the world doesn’t make sense, the streets being abandoned and houses vacant and survival being a constant factor in life now doesn’t make sense.

But the man he’s hiding out with makes sense. He makes so much sense. The only thing that makes sense anymore.

His existence is constant, he’s there for him when he lets him and when he doesn’t, he gives him space. The shorter man is as if the sun was living and breathing, and himself, well, he’s the moon. He’s just trying to stay in Sam's orbit.

Chasing after him. Circulating. Bashing in everything he’s willing to give him.

The scruffy beard he’s let grow, and him humming to himself while he’s working on Redwing, and the wheezing, carefree laugh he can’t stop when Bucky suggests they watch a zombie movie one night. He tells Sam not to overwork himself and he promises not to, and the other man tells him to let him know what’s going on in his head, and hell, Bucky tells him. He tells him everything.

In fact, it’s the same night they do watch a zombie movie, frequently pointing out the inaccuracies and turning it into a drinking game with the terrible, terrible booze they swiped from the supermarket, that he looks at the short haired man dozing off on his shoulder and realises that this is the most peace he’s ever had.

It’s basically an apocalypse outside, but Bucky can’t get himself to look away from Sam’s eyelashes fluttering lightly as he slips off to sleep.

Their legs are tangled into each other on the coffee table, the microwave popcorn long abandoned, one of his friend’s hands resting on his thigh.

His beard scratches his shoulder, but he doesn’t mind. Sam has asked him if he should shave it several times, but God no, never. That beard’s been doing a lot of things to him - all good, of course.

He turns down the volume a bit. Sam looks peaceful. He hasn’t been sleeping much, he knows neither of them have, and where’s the time for it, anyway? He’s glad he is now.

Bucky can’t get himself to move, fearing waking the short haired man from his slumber, and for a minute, the outside world is far, far away from their reality.

Sam looks incredibly soft in that ripped sweater and sweatpants and the snore he lets out is no less than adorable.

It’s like- he looks at this man, and suddenly it’s like everything just falls back into place.

He looks soft in the morning over breakfast and hazy eyes, soft in the evening when he says goodnight, soft when he’s clutching the photos of his nephews (AJ and Cass were their names, he’s learned), soft when he’s retelling a memory with his parents on the family boat, soft when they both muse about Steve and his dumb shenanigans.

He looks something entirely different when he’s shirtless out of the shower and tiny droplets still fall down his chest and abs and Bucky struggles to breathe, every damn time. He only realises now why that is.

Sam is like a sunset, because Bucky wants nothing more than to wake up to this man and nothing else every day, till the end of time. What more could he wish for?

He’s beautiful. Bucky doesn’t think he’s called anyone, or anything beautiful before.

Looking back, he can’t see anymore how they could argue and bicker and annoy each other, and doesn't understand why. He’s wasted so much fucking time doing that. Not anymore. He could never go back to that, it would most likely kill him. Steve would be thrilled if he could see them now, wouldn't he?

And while this realization dawns upon him, washing over him like the biggest wave you could possibly imagine, he wonders if Sam feels the same when he looks at him.

Does he feel safe falling asleep on his shoulder like this? Does he find everlasting comfort in his smile like he does in his, does he wake up hoping and praying to see his smile, just once? Does he do everything he can think of to make him look at him, like he tries every single day?

He can only dream.

Huh. So this is what it’s like to be in love. Bucky doesn’t hate it.

It’s only a month after his life-changing realization of the sort that couldn't make him concentrate on everything else, that Bucky decides today is the day. He’s going to confess his feelings for his friend.

And this is something in the middle of chaos, something he’s never experienced before. He’d never thought he’d practice his words in the mirror like a nervous teenager, but alas.

Sam Wilson, I’m in love with you. No. No, it’s too short. Think, James. What does he make you feel?

Sam, you’re the last thing I think about when I go to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up. Sam, I want to see you smile every day. Sam, I want to make you happy… as happy, as… happy as you make me.

Too long? Shit.

Sam, you’re the only good in this piece of shit world. I love you. Sam hates when he’s that pessimistic, though, and always tells him to cheer up, even in the middle of a zombie invasion. Another reason why he loves him.

Sam, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing I wouldn't do to see you happy. I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

His stream of thought is interrupted by faint clanging in the kitchen of their safehouse. Bucky sighs. He’s not sure this is going to be perfect, he wants it to be.

He has to go, he has to try. Now or never.

Except… the smile he’s come to anticipate every single morning isn’t there to meet him. Instead, he sees Sam suited up, wing pack on his back, gloves on, looking through one of their many folders they’ve filled up with theories of the infection and safe spots and danger zones and everything else.

Bucky frowns, looks at him in silence for a moment. Maybe he’ll try a joke, “Going somewhere?”

His friend hums without looking, “I’m going to catch Steve.”

Sorry, what? What the fuck?

Sam did not just say what he thinks he said. He didn’t. He couldn’t have.

This is why he blinks in disbelief, for the first time rendered speechless by the other man. Sam looks up at him, face glazed over by determination and confusion by his own reaction, most like. Then, worry overtakes his usually warm, deep brown eyes, ones that he could drown himself in and never come out of.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asks, and Bucky clenches his jaw.

“You’re going to… catch him,” he says, a statement rather than a question. It’s Sam’s turn to frown, but he nods.

“Yes. Catch him and bring him back.”

“You’re joking,” he laughs in sheer denial, but the seriousness in his friend’s face is scaring him, “Sam… tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

Oh, this is just not happening. This world lets him fall in love with the most perfect person he knows and then lets that very same person be so fucking stupid?

Bucky can’t let him go. Bucky can’t lose him.

“What, then?” he asks, one hand on his hip, “Invite him over and let him eat our brains, just like that?”

“ Bucky. We’re going to catch him, and then we’ll cure him.”

He laughs, loudly. Okay, this is just hilarious. Sam Wilson is the most perfect person in this world exactly because of this- because he believes this world is still able to be saved. Because he believes it’s worth saving . Fucking hell.

“You found a cure you’re not telling me about?”

Sam sighs, scratching his chin, “Come on, Buck. I talked to Hope-”

“Who?”

“Hope Van Dyne. The Wasp,” the shorter man explains, “She lost her parents, and Scott Lang, remember?”

Bucky shrugs, but nods.

“Well, she’s been recruiting those of us who survived. Who’s left. And she thinks there might be a way to reverse the virus, her father brought it from the, uh… Quantum Realm.” Sam’s about to hand him one of the folders, but he crosses his arms, and shakes his head, then.

God, Bucky’s well aware how stubborn he is. Sam has told him plenty of times.

But he’ll be damned if he lets the man go just like that. He’s not letting him get hurt.

“That’s not happening,” he says shortly. His friend’s frown deepens.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not going after that thing.”

The man turns to him completely, wide-eyed and shock written all over his features. “ That thing? ” he huffs, “That thing is our friend.”

“Not anymore, Sam. I’m not letting you get yourself killed by the undead.”

“He’s not dead,” Sam says. His voice raised. He looks- he doesn't look soft anymore. There’s no trace of that smile that gives Bucky shivers down his spine. He looks… upset. He’s upset. Fucking shit.

Why can’t he- fuck , can he not try to be a fucking hero right now? That’s why Steve’s gone. Why can’t he see that?

“You’re being irrational,” Bucky tells him, feeling the anger rise within him, this is not how it was supposed to go, stay with me-

“Oh, I’m being irrational?” Sam laughs, sarcasm evident in his voice, “There might be a cure. We might get Steve back, Buck. And I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know, but-”

“But, what?” he sighs, again. The irritation is flowing between them, Bucky’s freaking out, and above all, Sam looks… he looks disappointed.

This is the worst he’s felt in his whole fucking life. He can’t disappoint the only person that matters to him. Yet he did.

“What if Hope’s wrong, Sam? It’s pointless, most of the population’s infected anyway, it would take forever to get everyone-”

“You’ve got that little faith in me?”

No. No no no. Sam, no. I love you. I love you so much it pains me to see you like this, I never meant to hurt you, I didn’t-

“We’ve lost too many, Sam!” he finds himself yelling, none of the words scrambled in his brain making it out. He’s the most stupid of them, obviously, not that he wasn’t aware. “I know you believe these people can be saved, and your hope is incredible, but can you please… not go?”

“I’m an Avenger, Bucky. It’s what I do. It’s what Steve did.”

“It’s what got Steve turned.”

This seems to be something Sam has to ponder over, because a rather uncomfortable silence settles between them. His friend’s eyes soften somewhat, but his teeth are still gritted, as are his own. Would be inappropriate to confess his undying love to the other man now, wouldn’t it?

“I do believe they can be saved,” his friend eventually speaks up, “I believe that because I need to. I lost my parents, Sarah, Steve, Natasha. I have to try.”

See, that makes sense. Another reason why Bucky fucking loves him and wants to kiss his stupid fucking face and beg him not to go. But he doesn’t.

“It’s too risky, Sam, it’s not safe.”

“I told you, I can take care of myself.”

Bucky holds in a whine, embarrassing, desperate , “I know you can! You’re a fucking hero. You’re one of the best, Sam, you are. I wish I was that brave, I just-”

“Then why won’t you let me do this?” his friend asks in frustration, “Why won’t you let me try?”

I can’t lose you. “Because I lo-”

The words are interrupted by a loud bang. Sam closes his mouth immediately, tight-lipped. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, voice disappearing. Another bang. Then a moan reaches them from somewhere far away.

Their eyes widen in synchron as they look at each other, eye contact unwavering. They both know what that sound means.

Someone’s coming in. Someone not human.

Whatever’s found them, it’s on the roof, and it’s trying its hardest to get in, so Bucky’s got to shut his mind off and get ready.

Not only is he stupid enough to start a fight with Sam, they also get discovered by one of the zombies. Fan-fucking-tastic. They run to opposite ends of the safehouse, trying to locate exactly where the intruder’s at.

Bucky follows the sound into the hallway, past the bathroom, while Sam stays behind in the kitchen, machine gun pointed at the ceiling. He could not have picked a worse time to speak his feelings than today, could he? Well done, James.

And as if this day isn’t already bad enough, he can’t hear the groaning from the roof anymore.

“Sam!” he yells, because it doesn’t matter if the brain-eater hears them, “I lost it.”

“I hear them,” his friend yells back, prompting Bucky to make his way back, adrenaline pumping, feeling the sweat running down his back, “They’re on- Bucky! Buck-”

A crash. The biggest fucking crash he’s ever heard. Silence.

No.

“Sam?!”

“I’m here,” he hears the other man’s coughing, “It’s Steve. It’s Steve! Steve, hey, okay, now stay right there-”

Bucky’s officially panicking. This is not happening. It’s not .

He’s running so fast he stumbles over his own feet. At the same time, he feels as if he’s frozen on the spot. He’s not sure what’s real anymore.

“Sam, I’m coming-”

Sam screams . And Bucky’s heart is torn out of his chest and smashed onto the floor.

It’s the most earth shattering scream Bucky’s ever heard. It reaches him and goes inside every bone in his body and clouds his vision and makes him want to scream in anger. Sam. Sam. Sam. I need him. I need you.

Yet, when he reaches the living room, he sees nothing at first but rubble and smoke. The roof’s broken down. And in the middle of it, a figure is huddled over another lying on the floor, eerily still.

No. This isn’t real.

He might even convince himself he’s dreaming, he really might, because his vision is still clouded, and his teeth are still gritted so hard he bites the inside of his cheek, until the figure turns around and he’s met with a familiar face.

Steve Rogers.

But it isn’t his Steve, it could never be, because this Steve? This one’s a walking corpse. Sickly pale skin and blood between his teeth and red eyes looking back at Bucky with no memory or remorse. And on the floor-

On the floor… on the floor- He can’t be. He’s- Sam is- Sam .

“Sam,” is all Bucky can say, feeling like a broken record. His voice breaks, and the undead fucker in front of him doesn’t move an inch.

Sam is bitten. My Sam. I love you. I love you so fucking much and that’s why I didn’t want you to go, you perfect idiot, I love you-

He’s clutching the machine gun too hard, his knuckles are turning white, but he can’t do anything.

“That’s enough, Steve,” he finds himself addressing him. It doesn’t faze the thing in front of him, but that’s not surprising. It’s not his friend anymore, “Enough.”

Then a moan sounds, but it doesn’t come from Steve’s mouth. The figure on the floor rises, slowly. Sam Wilson. But he isn't his Sam anymore.

Sam looks at him. There’s nothing in his eyes, they’re empty. No warmth, no safety, not anymore.

He’s gone, but he can’t make himself believe it.

The thing that used to be his friend… the man he’s in love with, the man he wanted to spend every day with, every day for the rest of his life, if only he’d let him, that monster that’s destroyed the most beautiful soul on this shitty earth, hollowed him out and taken his body, that monster groans again.

Then, both figures move. The fuckers are moving in one direction, and that’s towards him.

They’re not fast, Bucky backs away, but his eyes are soon clouded by hot streams of tears running down his face. He can’t hold them back. He can’t control himself. He can’t control anything, not anymore.

So he raises his gun, “Sam,” he whispers, well aware no one’s going to respond, “Sam, I’m so sorry. This is my fault. This is all my-”

He squeezes his eyes shut, ready to fire all the ammo he’s got into his two undead friends, but he opens them again, looks back at them. They’re hungry. They’re still moving.

Bucky can’t breathe.

He wipes at his tears angrily, looking back and forth between those two dead fuckers and hovers his finger over the trigger, but he can’t… he can’t. He only realises in this second. He can’t shoot.

They’re not themselves anymore , he reminds himself. They’re gone.

But Sam’s warm voice full of peace and sunshine and lazy laughter and fleeting, shy touching of hands pops up in his head. That thing is our friend. He’s not dead. Those things are your best friend and the love of your life, James.

The zombies keep coming closer and Bucky bites his tongue.

“Shit.”

He lowers his gun, and because he doesn’t know what else to do, he knocks over the coffee table, then the TV, then the potted plant that Sam loves- loved so much, and runs as fast as he can, not looking back. He hears more crashes, the distraction hopefully successful, but doesn’t slow down.

Bucky escapes out the back door, jumps in the car and pushes the speeder.

Sam Wilson, I’m so in love with you, I can’t think about anything else. You’re the only one for me. I love you. And now you’re gone because of me. I didn’t get to tell you.

He doesn’t know what to do, or where he’s going, except- he needs to find Hope Van Dyne. He has to.

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sunder-soul · 3 years

Note

OK WOWWW

I've been meaning to write again, and I agree with you on your opinion of Tom. Personally, after researching on psychopaths a fair bit (for one of my own OCs), I feel that—at surface level—Tom can be classified as one. But nevermind that now, bc I absolutely LOVE the way you write him.

Which brings me to...

WHITE DOVE O.M.G.

KING YOU ARE A BLOODY GENIUS ISTG. Part 6 was so damn well written. Like hOw?? I can't even properly write while sober, never mind drunk. You are so so talented, and I can't wait for the next fic you post (and maybe(?) a sequel?? )

The imagery of Tom just pleading and breaking down was just... pure fucking perfection (and I mean that in the best way possible lol). Keep writing King! You're amazing at it that's for sure. :)

Two-part super long response discussing Tom Riddle and psychopathy beneath the line!!!!

But also omg thank u for your lovely compliments on white dove, I really really loved writing that series so it's super gratifying to get all the positive feedback!!!! Hell yeah I'm geared for a sequel and it's just absolutely full of my fave fanfic tropes I am ready to self-indulge once more.

Pt. 1. I don't see any issue with headcanoning Tom as having a sociopathy/psychopathy personality disorder, I just really dislike when people don't do what you have done and don't actually research what that actually means. I think general media has been 'fascinated' by 'psychopaths' for the last few decades and have created a really weird cultural conceptualisation of what someone with that disorder looks like/acts like.

People will have Tom committing genuinely horrific acts of violence for his own pleasure, fucking with people for fun, and engaging in lots of different taboo kinks and then explain it by simply being like 'he's a psychopath' and it's like oh... 😬

Idk I find that specific trope lazy in terms of story-telling, shallow in terms of character interpretation, and damaging in terms of real-life consequences for normal ass people with personality disorders.

Pt. 2. All that being said, I (personally) disagree with you in terms of Tom being able to be classified psychopathic!

I'm aware that some people distinguish between 'primary' psychopaths (those with genetic predisposition) and 'secondary' psychopaths (those who develop the disorder from environmental factors, sometimes called sociopaths) though it should be noted that this distinction isn't really agreed upon across the field and is under debate lol. But I feel the need to address both since I'll probs get anons "calling me out" me if I don't haha.

Premeditation before acts of violence, severely diminished emotional responses, and a lack of anxiety are traits characterised to primary psychopathy, and at first glance I can kind of see a case for Tom here. But... some of Tom's/Voldemort's biggest character beats revolve around him being impulsive, hyper-emotional, and extremely reactionary (like just killing an entire room of his own followers and goblins after finding out Harry knows abt the Horcruxes, or freaking out about the prophecy and murdering the Potters for that matter, or even duelling with Dumbledore in the Ministry etc. etc.).

Like I know he can be super calculating and set up long-arching plans and shit, but I've never really read Tom as being that 'premeditated' in what he does. He's ambitious, yeah, but to me I see him setting his eyes on a goal and doing everything he possibly can to reach that goal in a sort of perfectionist-driven, covetous desperation where if he just pushes long enough and hard enough and far enough, he'll prove that he can do fucking anything and everything in spite of everyone else and fuck everyone who said he couldn't - rather than this detached, cool, logical premeditative flow-chart of decisions.

On the other hand, the reasoning behind Tom having secondary psychopathy reads as more logical for the character for me - being an orphan in war-time England and having to essentially self-prioritise to the absolute extreme to survive could all be strong environmental stressors that would result in learned lack of empathy. Crimes committed by those with secondary psychopathy are also (apparently) more emotionally driven, more reactionary, and more impulsive. But.... Tom does still set up these long-arching plans, ya know? He's not acting solely on impulse, and he's also still very emotional outside of his acts of violence. Plus he's also never struck me as particularly anxious (which is a trait often used to distinguish secondary psychopathy). He's both impulsive and premeditated at times, just like how most ppl act both impulsively and premeditated at times.

The point I'm trying to make, lol, is that I think it's a misread of the character to consider him 'unemotional' or detached from others bc I've always thought of him as like the most extremely emotional character in the whole series. Canon demonstrates him to be highly emotional but just very very controlled/performative most of the time. He's shown to have bouts of hugely expressive rage, and he acts very vindictively which suggesting he takes things super personally, but he's mostly able to hide these emotions around people he doesn't trust. This might make him manipulative but it does not make him psychopathic/sociopathic.

In summary, I don't read Tom as having a personality disorder, I read him as being selfish, jealous, emotional, egotistical, covetous, self-aggrandising, suspicious, and manipulative. He's a dick, your honour.

#tom riddle #tom riddle headcanons #green anon #ask #white dove

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

There You Are

PART 2: ‘Finally, You’re Back’

Karl Heisenberg x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Mild spoilers for Resident Evil 8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Romance, Mild Angst

Summary: It’s the life before the nightmare. It’s the breath of fresh air before the pollution. The sunshine before the storm. And there they are, standing in the warmth of a sunny spring day in that Romanian village, their meeting coincidental yet fated at the same time.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! I’m sorry for the long wait but here it finally is - you request turned into a fic! Also, big thanks to that other Anon who gave me the idea of modifying the fic in a way where it’s now gonna be a two-parter, a sort of the before the nightmare and the aftermath of Heisenberg’s turning. Regardless, I hope you enjoy the read. Love, Vy ❤

Because one is incapable of expecting the unexpected One can never see what the future may hold One can never know what storms await One can never fully prepare And neither did he Because he could’ve never guessed Never known He could only see so far ahead He could only plan so much Yet he always thought he’d run free Let the winds and rivers guide him forward Never did he think his fate would uproot him into a nightmare He had no idea what to expect He had no idea he’d never be the same again Hell, to him it was the first and last time But to his hope it was a lightning spark Praying for more Regardless, in that moment When eyes met eyes, all he could think was... ‘There you are’

And there they were, standing in the almost completely melted snow on the outskirts of the Romanian village, the shy sun rays shimmering on their skin, making their hair glow. Their gaze gave away nothing yet so much simultaneously. Their crystal, shining yet still tired orbs were busy taking in their surroundings, their back turned to him. They didn’t have to face him for him to be able to guess they weren’t from around here. Truth be told, there were several clues that let him know: the clothes, the shoes, the sun-kissed skin - which there’s no way they could’ve obtained from the gloomy sunless winter in the village- but most important, the dead giveaway was the huge rucksack burdening their back and shoulders.

‘A traveler‘, he thought, ‘They’re probably lost. There’s no way they landed in this shithole on purpose.‘

The contemplation of whether to address them or not ends shortly and not really willingly - it mostly has to do with the fact that his thoughts were momentarily shut up when the traveler’s eyes met his.

Even with the amount of distance between them, something in those E/C pools glinting in the faint sunlight while also reflecting the brightness of the last remaining snow on the ground stole his breath away and paralyzed him. He was rendered helpless and unmoving from simple eye contact with this stranger.

But they weren’t done surprising him with the overwhelming power they unknowingly possessed.

They, out of the blue, shot him a smile that could only be described as blinding. One that sent his heart racing, eyes widening ever so slightly with disbelief. He was rarely offered such a kind reaction upon being seen by someone. A smile - not a mocking or menacing one - was an expression he rarely saw directed towards him.

‘They don’t know you, idiot!‘ He scolds himself mentally, ‘They don’t know what kind of lowlife piece of shit you are.‘

Yeah, they don’t. And they’re never gonna find out

He was willing to pull every lie from the book to keep his miserable life as a nearly homeless, poorly treated worker of three jobs hidden from this stranger. He didn’t want to see pity in those eyes nor sympathy in their smile.

He didn’t want things to change. Though, he simultaneously didn’t know what ‘things’ he didn’t want changed.

And so, he decided to create some, knowing full-well they would be temporary.

“Need any help? You lost or something?“ He calls out to them as he makes his way down from the cliff and into the large field where they’re standing.

They shake their head in response, loose strands of hair forming a curtain over their features as they do so, their smile never fading, “Nope, not at all. I’m exactly where I wanna be.”

“What could you possibly wanna see here?“ He asks, now without having to belch his lungs out due to the smaller distance between them.

They turn away from him, pointing to the monstrosity of a building he’s more than familiar with, towering over the village and dominating the outskirts. Having been abandoned for years now, the factory has become a home for rats, roaches, bats and Karl Heisenberg. The young man runs the risk of having it all crumble atop him while he sleeps the three hours he’s allowed each night. He’s not usually embarrassed by this fact but he doesn’t proudly announce it either. Sure, some people who pick on him and are determined to make his life a living hell have spread rumors about his place of stay but no one dares go into the factory to fact-check. It’s menacing exterior looking to be straight from a horror movie or a nightmare is more than enough to drive any person away, but the haunting noises the place harbors accompanied by the many creatures that produce said noises just add to the fear factor among the villagers when it comes to the century old structure.

“That.“ The traveler says, looking almost dreamily at the building so many people turn to with disgust and fear. “Would it be trespassing to enter? I really wanna have a look inside.“

Forgetting to mask his confused and surprised expression, Karl is caught with that wide-eyed, mouth-slightly-agape look on his face which sends the traveler in a fit of laughter.

“I know I probably sound crazy saying that, but abandoned places are sort of my thing, you know. I can’t simply pass by one without going in and doing a literal scavenger hunt. Not that I ever find much apart from graffiti and crap all over the place, but it’s worth having a look. Especially inside a place that looks that old. And man is it huge.“ No, his assumption was right the first time - their eyes do indeed get dreamy when they turn to observe the giant structure further down the overgrown path.

Who gives him the right to tell them no?

“Lucky I found you then.“ He says, shedding every last bit of confusion and replacing it with enthusiasm, a wide smile plastered on his face, “Follow me, I know all the entrances.“

He needn’t tell them twice. Hell, he barely had to finish his sentence before they literally took flight as they rushed - as much as they could with the heavy backpack they were carrying - towards the factory, taking his hand to drag him along, never stopping their river of gratitude the whole way there.

It awoke something in him, something warm and genuine that made him want to get to know this sunshine in human form better. He hasn’t had a chance to smile plenty in his life, never having a reason to do so. But during this less than five minute interaction, he hasn’t been able to contain the grin brought upon him as a side effect of their own happiness.

“I’m Karl, by the way!“ He informed them as they stomped their way up the path.

“Nice to meet you, Karl!“ They called back, giving him a brief glance over their shoulder, “My name’s Y/N.“

‘Y/N‘ the name echoed and repeated itself in his head, intensifying that feeling dangerously close to adoration.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.“

* * *

Dust and dirt had stuck to their clothes, practically merging with the textile by the time the pair left the factory to see the setting sun once again. The darkness and dinginess of the factory periodically made them forget how beautiful the outside world was. The place was filthy but what Y/N didn’t know is that it had been in a worse state before. Before Karl started staying there.

The young man always had a fascination with mechanical engineering, having met many workers who worked in the factory prior to its closing. They often times snuck him in so he could admire the work process the different types of machinery they had in there - many of which still remained in the factory covered in rust and spiderwebs. That being said, he took it upon himself to clean up a bit, treat the powerful mechanical giants with the respect and decency a machine of their kind deserved. Some he even miraculously repaired - probably the biggest achievement in his life - but he was yet to put them to good use, given that he still didn’t know how to properly operate them and what their true purpose was.

“That was incredible!“ Y/N cheered once the two had stepped onto the grass outside in the field again, “I can’t believe I almost started debating whether to go or not after so many of the villagers tried to scare me.“ They turned to give the factory one more lingering look, “Damn, I wish I could go back in there again to see if we missed anything. Unfortunately, my time’s limited.“ They sigh, checking their wristwatch before sparing the setting sun a look as well. “And it’s almost up.“

The knot that suddenly appeared in Karl’s throat made him choke on the oxygen he had inhaled. The worry of what those words of Y/N’s meant made his stomach turn.

But, before he could ask what they meant, they gave him an apologetic smile, their eyes still shining, but saddened now, “I have to get going. I have a different destination I need to reach by dawn.“ They sighed heavily, looking down at their boots. Karl opened his mouth to say something, but he found himself to be at a loss for words. He felt hollow and empty and couldn’t bring himself to stomach what he had been told. However, Y/N once again beat him to the opportunity of saying something. Their head snapped back up, their eyes meeting his, now glimmering with the glow he had grown to think of as familiar at that point. “However, that doesn’t mean I won’t be back.“ They took him by the wrist and brought his hand up, opening his clenched palm to drop a small chain in it. “Growing up, I was taught to not expect people to return things you give them but to go and take them back yourself. And so, Karl, I’m giving you this necklace and promising I’ll be back to retrieve it.“ They closes his palm again, letting his arm fall by his side. While he still had only processed half of all that happened when they spoke up again, “Ok, so now I ask of you to stay here, not see me off, not follow me, just stand right here. Or you can turn around and walk away too, that’d be even better. Can you do that for me?” They asked, cringing suddenly, “Sorry, I’m bad at goodbyes.“

He faintly nodded, unable to get any words out yet again. That was probably a good thing, cause there was a huge risk that he would’ve asked them to stay if he spoke.

Taking his nod as a positive response, they gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning around and walking off in the direction they came from earlier, leaving him behind. Karl wanted to force himself to walk in the opposite direction like they had told him to, but he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. He stood there, heart aching, watching them go. All the while squeezing the dog tag necklace tightly in his hand. The physical proof of the person that reminded him how it felt to feel.

The physical proof of the promise that they’d come back.

They’d come back to him.

He’d see them.

And he’d once again think to himself...

There you are, finally, you’re back

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weasleymalfoypotter · 3 years

Text

the half blood princess

harry potter x fem! reader

masterlist

word count : 3.4k

warnings : daddy issues, crying, angst, loneliness, father/daughter arguments, fluff, let me know if i missed something

summary : the reader is snapes daughter, he was never fully present and never fully showed her love, and it didn’t help that all of her peers refused to give her a chance because they all thought she was just like him, until harry potter realizes there’s more to her

A/N : so sorry i haven’t been active in so long, school has been kicking my butt. this was so fun to write though and i know it seems like i’m always writing characters that are related to pre existing characters but i swear i have different stuff coming. also if there are spelling mistakes i’m sorry i tried to get this out soon so i didn’t do as many proof reads as usual

y/n snape was her fathers biggest disappointment and longest regret. she was everything he resented. a young gryffindor and, she wasn’t lily potter’s. she was a constant reminder to him that he could never have who he wanted and instead he was stuck with a version of a one night stand he never cared about. he always thought if he were to have a daughter it would be with lily. but no. y/n showed up on his doorstep as a baby with a note from her mother saying she couldn’t take care of her and he was the father. a muggle DNA test did confirm that she was telling the truth. all of these factors lead to snape being the kind of father who did not neglect a child financially or materialistically, but did neglect a child emotionally, developmentally, and mentally. he did not like her and it showed. he treated her as if she were a burden, one that he longed not to carry, but that he had to none the less.

despite being a disappointment to her father and never being allowed to forget it, y/n snape was kind. she was an enigma, not just to those at hogwarts, but to herself. she knew her personality did not match her upbringing and, and she knew it definitely did not come from the man whom she shared 23 chromosomes with. she knew that most people who were hated by the one person they wanted love from their whole lives didn’t turn out to be lovely people. she knew that most people with daddy issues defined themselves by it and made it their personal permanent problem that their fathers didn’t love them correctly. she however did not do that. from the time she was a child she could not care any less what her father thought of her. she knew she was more than what he said she was. and she wasn’t going to let him get to her, which ultimately got to him more than anything. she was good hearted, intelligent, brave, and charismatic. however this didn’t stop people from judging her based on her last name. the slytherins didnt like her because she wasn’t one of them, the ravenclaws were intimidated by her from the moment she was confirmed to be the greasy haired potions teachers daughter, the hufflepuffs feared her like they feared severus simply because they didn’t know better, and the gryffindors wouldn’t claim her because she wasn’t one of them either. all of this, simply because her last name was snape.

she sat in transfiguration listening intently and taking notes while mcgonagall taught. the only other person in the class of 5th years doing such was hermione. hermione was never openly rude to y/n nor was she scared of her, and y/n took this to heart. they weren’t friends and had barely ever spoken, but y/n still appreciated the neutral attitude nonetheless. the bell rung and she gathered her things before mcgonagall approached her.

“Ms. snape may i talk to you for a moment?” she hated that the teachers called students by their last names.

“of course, is everything alright?” the girl questioned

“everything is fine dear, it’s just that one of your fellow peers is falling a little bit behind in the class and i think it would help if he had study sessions with you during the week if you’re up for it” the professor answered

“of course i am, who is it?”

“Mr. potter, i’m afraid he gets distracted easily and this subject isn’t his strong suit” she explained while talking with her hands. y/n’s face fell a little. if there was anyone who had prejudged her more than anyone else, it was harry potter. she didn’t completely blame him, her father was horrible to him, but still.

“o-oh umm.. are you sure he would be okay with working with me? why not hermione?” she asked, hoping to find a way out of this

“i don’t like to pair up friends with friends, they tend to get distracted, and i think he would be thrilled to get the chance to get his grade up. i’ve told him i would find someone to help him so meet him in the library at 7:00 tonight after dinner” she said before smiling and clapping her hands. “good day Ms. snape” she said before walking away and into her office attached to her classroom.

y/n sat through dinner at the edge of the gryffindor table a few feet away from some first years. out of the corner of her eye she saw the golden trio laughing with each other, while seamus finnigan kept tossing carrots at dean thomas and neville longbottom. she’d seen the group of the other gryffindors have moments like this her whole life. she looked up to the staff table at her father who was speaking to umbridge, and she was filled with a sadness. sadness because she would never have what the other gryffindors would have. sadness because her last name had ruined her years at hogwarts. sadness because she would never have a relationship with her father who had never and would never give her a chance.

she walked into the library with her bag slung over her shoulder. she looked around for the boy with the messy hair and round glasses and spotted him at a table in a corner reading a book that was not about transfiguration.

“i don’t think that will be of much help to our study session” she said with a strained smile before sitting down across from him. his eyebrows furrowed and he looked slightly panicked.

“you’re the partner mcgonagall set me up with?” he asked. she nodded her head. after a moment of silence and him looking anywhere but her, while slowly nodding his head she asked

“is that a problem?” only with a slight attitude

“n-no no not at all, just not what i was expecting” he choked out

“right. well we’d better get started” she went through her bag to get her books out and he started at her.

“right right. umm you know, i know you’re busy so if you don’t want to do this i can get help from hermione and just tell mcgonagall that it was you” he said only slightly nervous. she stopped turning pages in her book and paused before looking at him.

“i’m not” he looked at her quizzically so she continued “busy. i’m not busy, i’ve caught up on all of my other work and i’ve gotten enough O.W.L. studying in, so i’m not busy.” she slammed the book closed and leaned after a pause. “why don’t you want to work with me?” her words subtly laced with anger. he looked in her eyes then looked away.

“i- i don’t know, it’s just well um” he stuttered

“it’s my father isn’t it” she blinked at him “you don’t like me simply because of my father, right?” he stared at her trying to find words to make this any better.

“it’s not that i don’t like you...” he trailed off

“you don’t trust me? you don’t think i’m smart? you think i’m evil like him?” she asked with raise eyebrows.

“did you just call your own father evil?” he sort of laughed out.

“well yes, he hates me and always has, he a jerk. i’m surprised you’d think i like him, he treats me worse than any of you” she said.

“i never thought about that, i just figured-“

“that i was just like him?” she cut him off

“well...”

“maybe if you all would have taken the chance to get to know me instead of assuming who i am you would have realized” she said slowly. you could hear in her voice that she was agitated. he didn’t know what to say. she looked at him and opened her book again. “let’s just get started” he nodded and opened his book. the rest of the study session was awkward and neither of them made eye contact. they went their separate ways and agreed to meet again in two days.

the next time they met it was civilized and professional. she made sure everything they talked about was about transfiguration. she didn’t want to talk about anything because she thought it wouldn’t be real. she thought he would just be talking to her out of guilt or pity and she wasn’t interested, so she kept it strictly educational.

harry however wanted to talk to her about anything other than transfiguration. after that first time they met he realized she was right, there was more to her. he had no idea what it was but for some reason he really wanted to. he wanted to know what made her smile, what music made her heart dance, what colors she wanted to paint her eyes, what she wanted to do with her life, what she thought about death and youth and the construct of time. he wanted to know so many things, and none of them out of pity or guilt, he wanted to know out of pure curiosity and infatuation.

the next two weeks were full of studying and talking only about transfiguration, much to harry’s dismay. he didn’t know how to change the subject no matter how much he wanted to. he had no idea how to talk to girls. especially ones he liked. although he didn’t even know he liked her, in his mind he just wanted to know more. he decided it was time to go for it, he couldn’t take any more talk about how dangerous transfiguring live animals could be. as they were about to go their separate ways leaving the library, he grabbed her wrist to turn her to face him before she walked away. she looked down at his hand

“listen, i was wondering if maybe you’d want to sit with me at lunch tomorrow? or breakfast, or dinner, or all three really” she looked at him, visibly confused

“i- umm yeah yeah sure” she replied. he smiled and let go of her wrist when he realized he’d been holding it the whole time.

when she walked into the great hall the next day she saw harry’s head tilt up and smile at her. she walked to him and sat on his left with hermione, ron, fred, and george across from her, ginny and dean to her right, and seamus and neville on harry’s other side. as she was sitting a chorus of slightly awkward hellos greeted her.

“everyone this is y/n, y/n this is..well everybody” harry said sweetly

“nice to formally meet you all” she said with an appreciative smile

“harry’s told me all about your transfiguration lessons, we need to study together sometime, i hear you’re a genius” hermione exclaimed excitedly

“i wouldn’t say genius, but i would love to study with you” y/n replied. she smiled at everyone as the conversations continued, everyone keeping her involved. they were kind, and she wondered what harry had told them. they were so warm. a feeling she never felt at home.

“what have you been doing associating with potter?” her father asked her. she was in his classroom looking for a book she’d left there. she rolled her eyes since her back was to him before she responded.

“i’ve just been tutoring him and transfiguration, it’s not a big deal” she explained as she turned to face him

“i saw you with his friends today, don’t lie to me” he sneered

“I’m not lying and what’s it to you anyway? it’s not like you care, and why do you hate him so much? he and his friends have been nothing but pleasant which has been a good change of pace for me, or do you want me to miserable during my hogwarts years like you were?” she quipped back at him. this was how conversations went between the two of them usually. the funny thing was, she had no attitude. she simply said what she had to say, but she was almost sweet while saying it, which was an oxymoron.

“i care because potter will corrupt you, i don’t like him because he thinks he can strut around here and get away with anything, and it’s not my fault you’re miserable” he replied

“it’s most definitely your fault” she muttered under her breath as she gathered her things, but before she could leave he raised his voice and blocked her path

“what did you say to me?” he asked angrily. he always got upset when she spoke under her breath at him

“i said it’s most definitely your fault. it’s your fault that i’m miserable. it’s your fault that no one likes me. it’s your fault i don’t fit into my own house, and it is most definitely your fault that i have never know a fathers love” she was obviously upset now. she stormed out of the room shoving past her dad and he just sighed and watched her leave. he couldn’t even be upset because she was right, he was annoyed because she finally voiced it.

in all their years of squabbling and fighting she never said something so true and painful. she only took quick jabs that were true but not as hurtful. it was more hurtful to her than to her father because once she said it, she had to accept the fact that it was true.

she went to the corroded hidden at the top of the school where she was sure no one would find her. people never came this way after dinner, and she knew because she spent quite a lot of time hiding out up there. she slid down the wall and cried. she laid her head down on her knees as she pulled them up to her chest. at the sound of footsteps her head shot up and her hands darted to dry her eyes, but she looked in the opposite direction of whoever was coming. she was surprised to hear his voice.

“y/n? a-are you okay?” harry’s voice was calm and cool, but if you listened hard enough you could hear the concern in her voice. he kneeled down next to her and put a hand on her shoulder.

“i-im fine, really, you can go back to what you were doing” she said with a quarter hearted smile. she couldn’t make it to half hearted. he shook his head and sat fully down right next to her.

“i’m not leaving unless you physically force me too” he turned his head and finally got a good look at her tear stained cheeks “do you want to talk about it?”

“you don’t have to do this” she said, looking at the floor

“i’m not doing anything except checking up on my friend”

“friend?” she asked with smirk

“absolutely” he said

“it’s just my dad” she explained while still holding eye contact with the boy

“care to elaborate?”

she explained the whole fight to him and he listened intently. it was nice for her, having someone that listened. he enjoyed hearing her open up but his heart broke for her when she talked about how her life at school had been sad. he hurt when she talked about her pain and how lonely and unloved she’d felt her whole life. that’s when he realized he liked her. he wanted to make it better, he wanted to make her feel loved and heard and seen and beautiful and so much more.

the next few nights were spent in that empty corridor. he showed her the marauders map so they could watch while they talked to make sure they didn’t get caught. she learned all about his life and it wasn’t that easy being harry potter. he learned all about her life and the things that made her smile, the music made her heart dance, the colors she wanted to paint her eyes, what she wanted to do with her life, what she thought about death and youth and the construct of time. he loved every minute of it.

he wasn’t the only one. she absolutely adored learning about him and his little quirks. she loved the way his eyes lit up when he talked about quidditch and her heart broke for him when he spoke of life at privet drive. needless to say she was head over heels for the boy.

they spent meals together and the trio warmly welcomed her into the group after a few months of being friends. y/n and hermione became very close and ron loved having her around because he thought she was hilarious. she hadn’t talked to her father much, but when she did it was all about school or quidditch.

harry found her in the corridor on a thursday night reading.

“hello love” he said while sitting next to her. her heart leaped at the nick name.

“hey bub” she replied without looking up

“can talk to you something?” he said

“of course” she closed her book and turned to face him, crossing her legs

“this is probably going to be a little blunt but i want to get straight to the point ”she nodded at him “and if this is weird or awkward then just tell me to shut up and we’ll forget it and everything will go back to normal” she kept nodding “and it’s totally fine if that what you want, but y/n i really like you and i really want to kiss you and take you on a date an-“ she cut of his rambling with a kiss. he was startled at first but quickly leaned into it, deepening the kiss and putting his hans on her waist. they broke apart after a moment and stared at each other.

“that um- th- that yeah that’s where i was going with that” he stuttered out

“you’re cute when you ramble” he blushed.

they stayed up that whole night talking in the corridor before making their way to their dorms and giving one another a kiss goodnight. they went to bed that night separately but also as a couple. they walked into the great hall the next morning, hand in hand, as a couple. the whole school now knew that harry potter and y/n snape were, in fact, a couple. all of them were surprised but none as surprised as the black haired wizard at the staff table.

her father kept her after her potions class which he spent mocking and teasing harry, even more relentlessly than before.

“you’re not to see him anymore” he said simply to the girl. she scoffed

“you don’t get to decide that”

“actually i do, i’m your father” he sneered

“really? i had absolutely no idea, you sure as hell don’t act like it” she replied. she was confident today

“YOU WILL NOT SPEAK TO ME THAT WAY!” he bellowed. she didn’t even flinch. her face didn’t show a reaction and he sighed in frustration.

“can i leave now?” she asked monotonously

“no” he answered “you will not be with that boy and be my daughter, i will not allow it. if you are to live under my roof outside of this school, you will not see him.”

“then i’m done” she said. tears started to prick at her eyes

“what is that supposed to mean?”

“it means that i won’t live under your roof, i won’t be a financial burden anymore, i won’t be your daughter” he blinked at her “well it’s what you seem to want, you’ve always wanted me out of your house, it would be a weight lifted off of your shoulders”

“y/n stop this is nonsense”

“it’s not nonsense! it’s the truth! you’ve said it for as long as i can remember, except you never said it. you showed it” tears fell down her face “you never wanted me, you never loved me. i was never right. i didn’t have the right mother, i wasn’t sorted into the right house, i didn’t do anything right in your eyes” she tried to breathe but it was getting hard “i never knew love, not from you, not from a mother, not from friends. i had no idea what it felt like, until now. and i refuse to let it go just because you forgot what love felt like. so if you want me to leave, if you don’t want me to be your family anymore, then fine. i never was anyway” she finished before storming out of his classroom.

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miracleonice87 · 4 years

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Say You Won’t Let Go

a Sidney Crosby wedding series

Part Two

a/n: here’s part deux! read part one here. this will have at least one more part, probably 2! worth noting that I know next to no French and am relying heavilyyyy on our pal Google Translate in this story.

summary: a little more background throughout, as Juliette and Sidney meet up with their families and hockey star-studded bridal party for a rehearsal at their iconic wedding venue. if you’re not familiar with the location (it’s honestly incredible), click here for a look!

warnings: mention of deceased father. otherwise, so damn fluffy it’s practically cotton candy.

_____

Sidney and I arrived at the church exactly on time, much to Lauren’s satisfaction, with two cars carrying Mario’s crew pulling in at the next moment. I closed the passenger door of Sidney’s steel grey Range Rover and turned to take in the sight of our wedding venue, Heinz Chapel on Pitt’s campus, reaching a hand up to shield my face from the early evening sun as I gazed. Sidney did the same, coming to stand next to me and snaking an arm around my torso.

“Not a bad place to get married, eh?” he teased, kissing the crown of my head. I smiled and shook my head. “I’ve dreamed of this since the moment I first saw this place,” I told him. “It’s perfect.”

He took a step forward, offered his hand to me and grinned, quite pleased that we had been able to reserve the coveted location last summer despite it typically being booked three or more years in advance. I didn’t often request many special favors in the name of my uncle or fiancé, but this was one that seemed a necessity. Taking Sidney’s hand and walking toward the cathedral-style landmark, I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d gotten even more than what I always dreamed of, in so many ways.

My family and Sidney walked into the chapel to find his parents and our bridal party already mingling near the pews, excitement palpably buzzing beneath the magnificent arches and towering stained-glass windows that decorated the exquisite interior. As we stepped through the doors, they turned our way, and I let out an echoing, very French-Canadian-sounding, “Allooo!” making them all laugh.

I first greeted Troy, Trina, and Taylor with hugs and warm hellos. Sidney’s parents were staying at his former townhome on Mt. Washington, which previously served as his bachelor pad and now housed Taylor in light of her recent move to Pittsburgh. We had spent much quality time with the elder Crosbys since their arrival from Nova Scotia a few days ago, helping us with final preparations and enjoying each other’s company ahead of my official entrance into their family.

Both Trina and Nathalie had accompanied me earlier in the week to my final dress fitting and pickup appointment at the bridal boutique where I had selected my gown. Though my mother did plan to attend the wedding ceremony as a guest, she was uninterested in playing the traditional mother of the bride role and joining me for such commitments, which hadn’t surprised me but still stung sharply, especially when I was fastened into the gown and presented by the salon attendant to a waiting Trina and Nathalie.

Bitter tears pricked my eyes as I allowed myself to feel robbed of sharing that moment with my own mom. My sadness was quickly overcome, however, when the women, sensing my sadness, warmly embraced me and fawned over me, admiring the perfect fit of the gown, both becoming emotional when Nathalie tucked my headpiece and veil tenderly into my hair.

The three of us stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few moments as we let tears of many complicated emotions fall, with joy prevailing above them all. I couldn’t keep the enormous smile from my cheeks when Trina squeezed my shoulder and whispered, “Oh, sweetheart, just wait until Sidney sees you.”

Now, we were less than 24 hours away from that moment, with our bridal party and family bustling around us in the chapel.

As our officiant, Father Antonio, announced that we would be lining up for the rehearsal momentarily, Lauren approached me with a grin, extending a bouquet she had made of the countless ribbons and bows from my bridal shower gifts acquired a couple of months ago. I giggled at how cheesy yet adorable the arrangement looked, thanking her as we huddled at the back of the aisle with my bridesmaids and Sidney’s groomsmen.

“This place is a little beat up,” Nate MacKinnon, our best man, ribbed Sidney from between the two of us. “I don’t know why you guys picked this dump,” he added, pulling me to his side. Sidney shoved lightly at his chest before the two of them laughed and embraced.

“Yeah, the old barn in Cole Harbour was booked this weekend, so we kinda had to settle for the next best thing,” Sidney played into Nate’s teasing, as his longtime best friend Mike, also a Cole Harbour native, approached us.

“Kind of a shithole,” Nate whispered, earning a warning glance from me as Austin tried to hold in hysterical laughter. “You can’t say shit in church!” Austin forced out from under his breath. “Oh, we’re going straight to hell,” Mike commented softly. Sidney gave me an apologetic look and I smiled up at him.

“It’s fine. These are our people!” I said to him, flicking Nate’s elbow as I passed him. “Besides, we’ve already been living in sin,” I added, winking at Sidney. He gave me a look of mock disbelief and insisted, “No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m a nice Catholic boy.” I giggled and pushed onto my tiptoes to kiss his cheek, which smelled of his fresh aftershave.

In addition to Nate, Mike, and Austin, we greeted Sidney’s other groomsmen as we prepared for the rehearsal — his current teammates Kris Letang and Evgeni Malkin and former Penguin Marc-Andre Fleury. They had all graciously accepted the invitation by Sidney to play this special role in our day, with Geno flying in from Russia and Kris and Marc-Andre from Quebec.

Marc-Andre had brought a few other important components to our day along with him — not the least of which was his wife and my best friend, Veronique. She and I had first met when Sidney and I were only casually seeing each other, and she had predicted this wedding long, long ago. She had been one of our biggest cheerleaders since the day we met, and despite her and Marc’s eventual move to Las Vegas, the four of us remained the closest of friends, visiting each other when the men’s respective teams played and whenever else possible.

With Lauren as my maid of honor and Stephanie, Alexa, and Taylor as three of my other bridesmaids, my friend Jacqueline, a Pittsburgh transplant with Canadian roots whom I met while studying at Duquesne, rounded out my crew of six ladies who would stand by my side on this long-awaited day.

To up the cuteness factor, Sidney and I had selected Marc-Andre and Veronique’s daughters, Estelle and Scarlet, as our flower girls, with Geno’s son Nikita and Kris’s son Alex as our ringbearers. Nikita was still a bit young to understand his role, but grinned broadly when Sidney told him when they arrived just how important he was to our day. On the other hand, Kris told us that Alex had cried after his parents had asked him to be in our wedding, because, as much as he adored and was attached to Sid, Alex had been under the impression that I was his girlfriend, not Uncle Sidney’s.

Eventually, after Sidney and I made the rounds to greet them all, the entire bridal party was grouped together to begin the walk-through. The venue’s wedding planner wrangled the children as the priest noted that Sidney needed to leave my side to approach the front of the church alone, in preparation for his emergence from one of the side doors at the front of the sanctuary tomorrow.

Playful “oooh”’s erupted from our groomsmen, who teased Sid about having to pry himself away from my hip. Sidney rolled his eyes, nodding and smirking, before turning his full attention to me. He tucked some hair behind both of my ears before caressing my cheeks with his thumbs.

“You gonna be okay, Jules?” Sidney asked, eyes wider than normal as he searched mine carefully.

I knew he wasn’t asking if I would be alright once he left my side to stand twenty yards away for the next five minutes, but rather if I would be able to contain my emotions as Mario walked me down the aisle, even during a practice run, in place of my father.

We had talked about this specific part of our day a number of times, with Sidney even pondering aloud whether he should walk me down the aisle himself because walking with anyone except my dad felt impossible to me. His sweet dad had even offered to do so, should I desire. After each conversation, Sidney and I both kept arriving at the same conclusion — that the best and most appropriate plan of action was for Mario to give me away and also to join me for the traditional father-daughter dance at the reception.

I nodded, holding onto Sidney’s wrists. “Yeah,” I whispered. “I’ll be okay,” I promised. He nodded solemnly in return and kissed my forehead before pulling back with a wink.

“You can do this,” he encouraged. “I’ll see you up there.” I gave him my best smile as he turned and walked to the front of the chapel.

As our wedding party lined up in front of me to take their positions, Nate stopped me for one of his signature bear hugs, resting his chin on top of my head just for a moment before releasing me. The rest of our group squeezed my hands and rubbed my arms lovingly as I walked to the back door of the sanctuary where Mario waited, hands folded in front of his hips and a tentative smile on his features. He, too, gave me a sweet kiss on the forehead before holding my shoulders at arm’s length.

“Listen, princesse, it was one of the greatest honors of my life when you asked me to walk you down the aisle,” Mario said, soft enough that only I could hear. “But if you’ve changed your mind and would rather do this some other way, please, just say the word.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around his waist just as the piano music began.

“No, you are exactly the person my dad would want doing this if he couldn’t,” I told him confidently. Mario let out a small exhale, and I could tell he was trying to remain composed. As we parted, he said, “Then let’s go make him proud.” He offered his arm to me and I wrapped my hands around it firmly, leaning my head into his shoulder briefly.

We watched pairs of our party head down the aisle toward Sidney and the priest at a relaxed pace: Jacqueline and Geno led off, followed by Veronique and Marc-Andre, Taylor and Kris, Alexa and Austin, Stephanie and Mike, and finally, Lauren and Nate. Alex walked down the aisle in a near-skip, holding a fake pillow very carefully just as his mother, our beautiful friend Catherine, had instructed him, with Nikita by his side mimicking his every move. Their fathers gave them thumbs up and everyone clapped lightly when they reached the end of the aisle.

Next, after a bit of prompting from both their parents at the front, Estelle and Scarlett followed the boys’ path, scattering fake rose petals in place of the real ones they would have tomorrow, earning their own quiet round of applause. As the children were seated at the ends of the front pews on either side, the music shifted, and our wedding planner turned and gave Mario and me the nod.

“Ready, Juliette?” he asked softly. My eyes traveled down the long red carpet in front of us to the steps where the love of my life stood centered in between our closest friends and family, waiting for me. He gave me a warm, adoring smile and at that moment, I felt my unease melt away, just as it always did when Sidney was near.

“I’m so ready,” I whispered.

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lady-divine-writes · 3 years

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Kurtbastian Week 2020 - “War of the Roses” (Rated M)

Summary: Kurt suspects that his husband may be cheating on him. But instead of taking the mature route of talking with him, he calls up a radio talk show that has a unique way of uncovering the truth. (2236 words)

Notes: Inspired by a talk show I used to listen to by the same name. Written for the @kbweek2020 Day 5 prompt 'angst', but not quite as angsty as you might imagine.

Read on AO3.

“War, War, War, War of the Roses!”

The pre-recorded announcement, surrounded by loud fanfare, blares through Kurt’s phone. He moves it away from his ear before the d.j. follows with: “It’s War of the Roses day on Magic 92.5! Hop on the website, send us a text, or call and leave us a message, and you, too, may be featured on War of the Roses! Today, we have Kurt on the line, ready to share the troubling story of him and his husband Sebastian. Kurt - thank you for joining us.”

“Th-thank you for having me,” Kurt replies, hating the way his voice sounds, the way it rattles around his dry throat. Hating what he’s doing. Hating that he gave the show their real names! What an imbecile he is! People he knows listen to this show! His boss Isabelle listens to this show! She must be listening now because he hears a beep over the line - a sign that another call is trying to wedge its way in. When he doesn’t answer it, it disconnects with a chunky bwap-bwap! A second later, messages start flooding his email, which he left open on the laptop in front of him. And not just from Isabelle. From Rachel, Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Chase …

Kurt lifts a hand and closes the lid, shutting them out.

Oh boy.

He’s only been on the phone for 30 seconds and he’s already made a mess of things.

“Kurt,” the d.j. says, “why don’t you start by telling us why you contacted us? How can we help you?”

Kurt sighs. I contacted you because I’m stupid, he thinks. And insecure. And, frankly, I should hang up right now and put my phone in the freezer for safekeeping before I do anything else stupid. “I … I think my husband might be cheating on me.”

Canned ooo’ing follows his admission, and if he didn’t regret this decision before, he certainly regrets it now. He can’t stand the idea that they’re using this situation that’s been keeping him up at night as the punchline of a joke. But he can’t blame them. He did this. There are other ways to go about this that he should have considered first. Counseling. Private investigators. Honest and open communication with his spouse. But for some reason, when his husband got up early and left for work without waking Kurt for a goodbye kiss for the eighth day in a row, Kurt broke. If his marriage isn’t working, if they’re headed for Splitsville, Kurt needs to know today.

Now.

Sooner, if possible.

And that’s when he leaped for his cell phone and made this ill-advised call.

Kurt didn’t think there was anything wrong with his marriage. He thought they were happy – blissfully so. But for the past few days, things have gotten odd between them. Strained. And Kurt doesn’t know why. He needs to find out.

Lucky for him (depending on how you look at it), the radio program had a last-minute cancellation. The person who was scheduled to be on this morning decided to take matters into their own hands and run their unfaithful spouse over with a Cadillac.

A Cadillac that wasn’t theirs to begin with.

The station called him practically a second after he got off the phone with their answering machine.

“And why do you think your husband might be cheating on you?” the female co-host asks in a voice sympathetic from years of practice.

“Well … he’s been avoiding me.” Kurt winces at that weak excuse. To be fair, Sebastian’s firm recently landed a huge client - their first of this caliber in years. And since one of his partners is out on maternity leave, the job of wining and dining had fallen on Sebastian’s shoulders - a task he hasn’t performed in close to a decade; one he never liked much, especially after he and Kurt got married since it kept him away from home. “But on top of that,” he says, leaving that pertinent information out, “he’s been talking a lot about some guy named Martin.”

“Really?” the d.j. says, working hard to make this revelation sound like the scandal of the century since Kurt isn’t giving them much to work with. “And what has he been saying about Martin?”

“He’s been very complimentary about the job Martin has been doing down at the office.” Another wince. “A-and my husband isn’t normally the kind to hand out compliments. Plus, they’ve been working a lot of late nights - meetings, overtime, all last minute, that sort of thing.”

“Do you think Martin is doing something other than working that your husband might actually be complimenting him on?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says meekly, his heart going from ache to break. He hadn’t put those thoughts into words before today, hadn’t even texted them to his closest confidants now crowding his inbox. This is the first time he’s getting it off his chest … and he’s doing it to millions of people he doesn’t know.

He can hear Sebastian's voice in his head, laughing and saying, "Smart, Kurt. Very smart."

“Alright! Let’s get Sebastian on the phone and find out what’s going on once and for all!”

“Okay,” Kurt mumbles, covering the fact that the host's apparent enthusiasm to destroy Kurt's life put him on the verge of throwing up.

“What we’re going to do (for those of you who don’t know how this works) is offer Sebastian a dozen romantic roses to send free of charge to the person of his choice," the d.j. explains.

"Let’s hope he says Kurt,” his co-host adds.

“Yes,” Kurt says, and very unlike him, he begins to pray.

He prays Sebastian doesn’t answer the phone.

He prays Sebastian's secretary answers instead and tells them to send the roses to Kurt, Sebastian’s one true love. Kurt would accept that, hearing it second hand. That would be fine. Hearing it from Sebastian's secretary would be almost like hearing it from Sebastian. She’s a trustworthy soul, not inclined to cover for her boss.

He thinks.

Most of all, he prays that no matter who answers, no matter what happens, he’s wrong.

Ring-ring.

Click.

“Hello?”

Sebastian answers and Kurt’s stomach drops. In the time it takes Sebastian to complete that word, Kurt recalls the way most of these things end. Then his mind, which rarely seems to be on his side lately, conjures up how it might end for them.

This phone call and their entire marriage.

“Let’s get a name for the card, Sebastian. Who would you like us to send those roses to?”

“Let’s send them to Martin,” Kurt imagines his husband saying in a sly, seductive voice without pause.

“Martin? And what message would you like to go with it?”

“Make it out to Captain Flexible. And write ‘last night was incredible. Here’s to many more late nights in the future’.”

That nightmare spell shatters when Kurt hears the d.j. say his husband's name. “Sebastian?”

“Yes?” Sebastian answers, already sounding annoyed. No one who calls Sebastian’s office line ever calls him by his first name except family.

And Kurt.

“Hello! My name is Andrew, and I’ve just opened a new flower shop in Uptown called The Rose Knows.”

“Good for you,” Sebastian says dryly.

“We’re calling businesses in the Midtown area with our first promotion. We’re offering a free dozen romantic roses to send to the person of your choice. And all we ask in return is that you recommend our shop to your family, your friends, your co-workers …”

“You must have the wrong number. I don’t need anything for free. Put an ad in the Pennysaver like everyone else.”

"I'm not sure the Pennysaver's still in business."

"Not my problem."

Kurt bites his lower lip, grinning when he should be in tears, the nervous flip-flopping of his stomach, like pancakes on a griddle, causing his abs to cramp. But that’s his husband. His Sebastian.

So far, so good.

“Come on,” the d.j. presses. “We’re a small business, just starting out. Do a man a favor. Have some community spirit.”

Sebastian sighs like this is so beneath him. He stays quiet, and Kurt knows he’s debating between messing with this guy or hanging up on him. But Sebastian probably figures he’s not going to shake him until he gives in. Besides, Sebastian is nothing if not a networker. A flower shop would be of no use to him, but who knows? “Let’s see. Who in my life deserves free roses? My mom’s birthday is coming up, so maybe I could send them to her. Or my sister. She just had a baby.”

“Oh! Congrats!”

“A-ha,” Sebastian says, the amount of unimpressed in his tone staggering. “There’s Martin Lewis ...”

“Martin?” the d.j. repeats, stressing the name subtly to put emphasis on Kurt’s concerns.

He doesn’t need to. Kurt’s heart has already stopped.

“Yeah," Sebastian says, his voice going softer. "Roses would definitely brighten up his office.”

“And why does Martin deserve roses?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but he’s been busting his ass helping me put together a huge proposal. Plus, his wife's in the hospital. He could bring them over to her."

"O-oh ..." The d.j. slips. That's probably the last thing he expected to hear.

"Or you know what?” Sebastian's voice drops a register, a hint of wickedness lacing between. “I could send them to this guy I absolutely worship."

"Oh really?" The d.j. recovers, seeing things start to turn around. The hosts definitely root for a happy ending, but it's no surprise that angst makes their ratings soar.

The cringe-factor of someone confessing unaware to their infidelities.

Their listeners eat that up.

"Yup. The most amazing, sexiest man on the face of the planet. The man with the biggest heart of any human being I have ever met. The man I call the Energizer Bunny because he can go all. night. long. The man I hope to spend the rest of my life with.”

Kurt hiccups. His heart, a useless lump in his chest, lodges in his throat.

“And who would that---?” But before the d.j. can interject with their usual spiel, Sebastian continues.

“But I think he’s worth more than a bouquet I got for free from some lame-ass radio talk show. What do you think, Kurt?”

The line goes dead.

Kurt has been listening to this radio program religiously for close to seven years, and to his knowledge, this has never happened before - a caller called out by their s.o. But the d.j. is on it because he immediately plays an old school ‘wah-wah’ noise to show that Kurt has been caught.

“H-how did you know?” Kurt asks.

“Because I know you, Kurt,” Sebastian says. “I know the kinds of things you do when you panic, and you mostly panic when you feel like people you love are going to leave you.”

“Yeah?” Kurt sniffs, a tear rolling down his cheek. Adding to his list of things he hates, he hates that Sebastian knows him so well. “And what do I do?”

“You kind of go off the deep end.” Sebastian chuckles, lighthearted and anxious, reminiscent of the night he asked Kurt to be his for the first time. “And I understand why. I’m sorry I’ve been distant lately. And I’m sorry about the late hours. I’ve just been caught up at work. I swear that’s all. But Kurt … can we talk about this when I get home? So I can look at you, in your eyes, and tell you that there’s no way in heaven or earth I would ever cheat on you? It took me a long time to win you over. There’s nothing that could persuade me to give you up, not for anyone.”

More sound effects - an awww followed by applause - play in the background as the d.j. and his co-host attempt to maintain control of the show.

“So … you don’t hate me?” Kurt asks.

“For which offense? Doubting me, my loyalty, and my love for you? Or airing our dirty laundry on the radio?”

“Uh …” Kurt awkwardly clears his throat. “All of the above?”

Sebastian sighs again. He sounds exhausted, but also like he can’t wait to get home and give Kurt a good ribbing. “Yes, babe. I forgive you.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry about all this.”

“Apology accepted. I mean, what’re a few tawdry secrets among friends? Strangers? The barista down at Starbucks? My clients?”

“When should I expect you home?” Kurt rushes to cut him off, feeling more like a heel than he had before. “I know you have another big meeting and …”

“I’ll be home in about an hour. Wait … make that an hour and ten. I’m going to stop by a real flower shop and get you some roses. I think you’re overdue.”

“Really?” Kurt says, so astounded, so touched, he doesn’t hear the cheesy music the d.j. has started playing in the background.

“Yes, really. And Kurt?”

“Yes?”

“Be naked when I get there,” Sebastian growls.

The music stops, skidding to a halt with the sound of a record scratching. “Guys … uh … you’re still on the air.”

“Sorry not sorry there, champ,” Sebastian says and hangs up the call.

So does Kurt, shoving his phone in the freezer before the station tries to call back for a recap.

#kbweek2020 #kurtbastian #kurtbastian fic #sebkurt #sekurt

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libsterslobsters · 3 years

Text

The Battle of Evermore

A Bucky Barnes fanfic

Summary: Set during the events of Captain America: Civil War. Bucky and the reader's worst nightmare has come true: they're captured, and there's nothing even Steve Rogers can do... or is there?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem! enhanced! reader

(reader sees shards of the future, can understand every language, and processes information quickly)

Warnings: Violence, angst, fluff, self-loathing, Civil War spoilers, language

Author's note: The female character's name is never given so that this can be read as a self-insert, but at this point, I've written so much about her and Bucky that I've named her Violet. Still working on a last name. If you have any suggestions, comment below.

*************************************************

It’s not exactly unexpected, them having to fight their way out. Steve always hopes for the best, but prepares for the worst, especially when it involves The Winter Soldier, or as he knows him, Bucky Barnes. But still, the last thing he’s expecting when his best friend crashes through the door of an apartment several storeys below is to barely catch (and if it weren’t for his enhanced hearing, it’s guaranteed he would’ve missed it altogether) a woman hiss,

“Buck, what the hell-”

“Get out of here. Now.”

Again, he’s known the guy for years, had him bust up enough back-alley fights in their day, so he knows Bucky tends to have a flare for the dramatic when it comes to any sort of altercation, but it still seems a little overboard, the moves he’s pulling out to kick these hostile’s sorry tails. That is, until he’s out of the building and sees a hooded figure, small enough that his first guess would be female, waiting in a dark corner. That’s when it clicks: a diversion. But how did she manage- She takes off running, cutting his internal questioning short, and when her sweatshirt rides up, he sees a harness around her waist, carabiner still attached, and rope burns on her hands. That answers that.

All thoughts of whoever the strange woman was are pushed aside in the pursuit that follows. In fact, Steve’s almost forgotten about her until they’re being loaded into armored cars like criminals (which, he supposes, they are now), and as they’re leading Bucky away, he freezes on the spot, not budging for a full ten seconds despite his guards doing their best to get him moving again. Steve follows his line of sight to yet another car window, and then he realizes why Bucky suddenly looked so defeated. They got her too.

On the ride back to base, Bucky’s separated from the rest of them, but the woman is thrown in with him, Sam, and T’Challa, since apparently, Rhodey’s decided she’s not a threat. Either that, or he’s hoping being stuck with the men she was trying to escape will rattle her enough that, once they’ve landed, she’ll talk. If Steve had to venture a guess, he’d say that won’t work; if the way she keeps her eyes down and ignores anyone speaking to her wasn’t enough to indicate that she’s not playing ball, his knowledge that her escaping the building wasn’t a matter of chance (no, his bet’s on both of them having prepared for something like this in advance, how else can you account for the diversion and her rappelling down the side of the building) would do the trick. Just before they’re led into the building, he slides past her, and murmurs, “Steve Rogers. Don’t answer their questions. I’ll find you later.” It’s brief, but her eyes flick up to study him, then back down again, and he takes that as acknowledgment.

It’s a lot of hassle, a lot of questions, and a lot of paperwork. He’s half-way expecting to be put in a cell, but after a good two hours, he’s remanded to a room to wait. About an hour later, Sam is escorted in as well. After the routine questions (are you okay, what did you say to them, what did they say to you), Sam finally lands on the immediate issue at hand.

“Cap, who the hell’s the girl?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

That’s not entirely true. He’s had a good amount of time to think it over, and he’s narrowed the possibilities down. The first thing he considered was, as unlikely as it seems at first blush, the girl is Bucky’s daughter. Who knows if they’ve sent out the Winter Soldier for things other than assassinations. He could’ve been asked to extract information in ways that don’t include the use of excessive force. Steve almost immediately rules that one out. She doesn’t look enough like him for that possibility. Age wouldn’t necessarily be a factor considering Bucky’s been on and off ice for the past seventy years. Still, the dynamic felt… off, somehow. His bet’s on not related at all.

His second thought is a partner. Someone else who’s escaped Hydra and is now hiding out. Well, considering that she got caught (and if the rope burns are anything to judge from, she’s no expert at quick escapes), that seems unlikely as well. They get along, obviously, and she has to be important, or else he wouldn’t have risked so much to give her time to get away, so possibly a friend. Still, that level of devastation upon seeing her captured? That seems a little more intense than an average acquaintanceship.

That leaves only one possibility; a romantic entanglement. A part of Steve is happy for Bucky. He’s had a whole lot of miserable in his life so far. He deserves to find some joy. Another part of him is rolling it’s eyes at the fact that, even in hiding when he really should be keeping to himself, his best friend managed to find himself in the company of a pretty girl. The biggest part, however, is scared. If this is serious (and all things considered, it’d be foolish to think otherwise), this girl is yet another liability, another complication in vindicating Bucky.

As he’s discussing things with Sharon, he realizes that he can see the feed from the girl’s cell as well as Bucky’s. The volume is turned down low, but if he concentrates, he can hear her.

“Please, if anyone is listening, you have to stop that doctor. He’s not who he says he is!” Steve brushes it off as hysterics. That is, until it dawns on him that she’d have no way of knowing about the doctor interviewing Bucky.

“God! You people! I’ve been hiding from this fucking government since I was eighteen years old! Now that you’ve got me behind bars, the least you could do is listen! I’m telling you, he’s not who he says he is! Don’t let him in the room with Barnes! It’s a mistake! People are going to die!” That makes him wonder…

“Sharon, do you have a file on the girl?”

She shakes her head.

“Not that I know of, but I also haven’t looked. She’s just some random Romanian woman, right?” That’s what he thought, but now he’s not so sure. Her accent… she sounds American. “Couldn’t even get her name out of her. My guess would be that she’s insane. All she’d tell us is that we’re making a big mistake and people are going to die because of it.”

He’s about to say something more, but that’s when the lights are cut.

The battle that follows leaves little time to think of anything other than capturing Bucky before the other side does (oh, and trying to survive themselves), but in the brief lull after they come out of the river, he manages to tell Sam,

“Spring the girl.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do it. I have a hunch.” One that admittedly doesn’t make much sense, but then again, that seems to be the way his life works.

___________________________________________________________________________________

“It was a mistake. I told them so.” Sam’s inclined to believe the same as Sharon when he approaches the high-security cell with a pacing woman inside. “A fucking mistake. And now there’s a bunch of dead people topside and Barnes is who knows where, probably either with a couple bullet holes in him or else a couple bullet holes in the other guys.” She has to be crazy. She’s talking to herself. But how does she know- “I see the damn future, for fuck’s sake!” Well, that explains that.

It seems like she’s worn herself out because, her back against the wall, she slides down slowly to the floor as if her legs have given out from under her.

“I see the future, and I still couldn’t save him.” Great. He’s been sent to extract a homicidal maniac’s fortune-telling girlfriend. Awesome.

“Yeah, well-” She startles, cracking her head on the glass wall. “-unless you want a really bad headache, I’d get against the back wall right now if I were you, because I’m about to bust you out of here.”

“Who are you?” If he blasts the control panel… as a last resort, he could quite literally blow out the wall.

“A friend of Steve Rogers.” Sent to collect her crazy ass. The least she could do is stop glaring at him. “And I meant what I said about that headache. Get back and cover your ears.”

Finally, she moves, but not before shooting back,

“If you’re lying, just be aware that I won’t hesitate to kick you in the family jewels so hard, you’ll sing soprano.” Well, that’s comforting.

For a high-security facility, the locks go down fairly easily. Still, he hesitates before opening the door. “I’ll let you out so long as you promise to keep your hands to yourself and your crazy away from me, deal?”

She snorts.

“Can’t promise anything about the crazy because it comes and goes, but I won’t touch you. Good enough?” Can he really say no?

“Yeah. Whatever.” He allows the door to open, jumping out of the way just in case.

Now that she’s out of her cage, she looks considerably less nuts. Still, he’s not taking any chances.

“Rogers told me to spring you while he rounded up your boyfriend. He’s gone psycho, by the way.” If he was expecting a reaction, he’s disappointed. She just sighs.

“I was afraid of that. They turned a good man into a weapon.” Alright, ignoring the fact that he wouldn’t exactly call Barnes a good man…

“What’s your name?” She just raises an eyebrow.

“I’ll tell you mine when you tell me yours.” Sam doesn’t have time for this.

“Well, whatever your name is, stick close. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. If I tell you to shut up, you shut up. Got it?” Not waiting for an answer, he starts making his way out of the building.

He’s halfway expecting her to make a break for it the second his back is turned but, five sharp turns and a handful of sudden stops later, she’s still right behind him. Well, at the very least, her crazy hasn’t affected her ability to follow directions.

Trouble finally finds them when they attempt to sneak out the proverbial back door. Sam doesn’t even have a chance to shout at her to hide or run between incapacitating various guards, and by the time he remembers he’s supposed to be looking out for Barnes’ girlfriend, there’s an unconscious man laying by her side and she’s got the business end of a gun turned on another, who’s kneeling in front of her with his hands up.

“Don’t shoot him!” As he says it, her foot makes contact with the man’s chin, and he drops.

“Wasn’t gonna.”

She still hasn’t let go of the weapon. Alright, he needs to defuse this situation as fast as possible (oh, and without getting himself killed).

“You wanna put the gun down, What’s-your-face?”

“Nope. I’m hanging onto it.” As she says it, she checks the bullets. “Don’t worry. I know how to use it.” How is that supposed to keep him from worrying?

“Yeah well, keep it pointed away from me.” Is she rolling her eyes? Great. He’s dealing with an overgrown teenager.

“Safety’s on anyway.” He’s starting to think that between the knocked out cold super soldier and the awake and definitely dangerous crazy lady, he’s wishing he had Steve’s job.

“Come on.”

He only manages to run a few more steps before she asks,

“Where are we going?”

He’s not entirely sure, but he goes with what he’s almost certain will bring her along.

“To Barnes.” Sure enough, she doesn’t say anything else.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Once she arrives at… wherever the hell they are… she’s instructed to wait where she is and keep her mouth shut. Normally she’d inform whoever’s telling her that to stick it directly up their ass, but Bucky warned her time and again about what he could inadvertently do to her if he was activated, and considering Steve Rogers has the same capabilities, she’s not going to chance it. That, and Mr. “Keep your crazy away from me” seems a little testy, even if she does still have her gun (the fact that they haven’t taken it from her says more than enough about how secure they both feel in their ability to overpower her). No, she’ll bide her time. For now, it’s enough that she knows where Barnes is and that he’s mostly okay, if having a long snooze.

Eventually he does come around, and the conversation that follows both chills her to the bone and breaks her heart. He’s matter-of-fact about everything, calmly explaining to Steve and Sam (she finally overhears his name) what they’re up against, what those terrible people have made of him and so many others, but the guilt he feels is clear, at least to her. Alright, that’s it. She’s not going to sit still and be quiet any longer. She’ll just have to be smart about it.

Once Sam steps out to call whoever it is he knows that can help him, she starts to creep forward, slowly, deliberately, careful to avoid making noise. She’s almost there, about to leave the refuge of hiding behind a piece of broken down heavy machinery, when she hears something that makes her stop short.

“Who’s the girl, Buck?” This ought to be interesting. It was necessary to have a conversation about what they would do if one or the other of them was captured at any point in time, have a plan in place, but since this is Steve Rogers, she has no idea what the answer will be.

“Call her a personal attachment.” It’s a good answer. Vague, not giving too much away.

“Yeah, I figured that much out myself. Wanna give me a little more information?”

There’s a long pause, then-

“She’s important. The same way Peggy’s important to you.” That makes no sense to her, but it must appease Steve.

“I’m glad. You deserve that.” She’s definitely missing something here. “What’s her name?” That’s when she chooses to step forward.

They both turn towards her as she gives her name. “You should also know that I only give people one opportunity to tell me what to do. You and Sam already used yours.”

Steve glances back at Bucky, who shrugs, smirking.

“Don’t look at me. I used mine up two years ago.” A wave of relief courses through her. His sense of humor is still there, at least.

Steve nods. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I still have a question, though.” She indicates that it’s okay. “Are you gonna be as much of a pain in the neck as he is?” A joke, or at least she thinks it is.

“Only if I can’t be a bigger one.” If the laugh is any indication, she was right.

“I have a question too.” This time Bucky’s the one asking as Steve sets about freeing his arm. “Doll, where’d you get the gun?”

She decides to go with the truth, but a lighter version of it.

“A nice guard gave it to me.”

“Oh, he gave it to you, huh?”

She nods, slowly approaching him.

“Yes. It’s amazing how accommodating people can be once you’ve elbowed them in the ribs and kneed them in the groin.”

With a groan of metal, he’s free. As Steve helps him to his feet, he asks,

“What exactly did you teach her?”

“A few things. The rest she’d learned before me.” Yeah, well, you don’t spend your life running and hiding without learning how to defend yourself. Although, from the look of things, the company she’s fallen into could crush her without breaking a sweat.

After exchanging a few more words, Steve excuses himself, leaving her alone with the man she’s been so worried about. The atmosphere immediately changes, all attempts on both of their parts to seem unaffected, strong, gone to the wayside as he opens his arms and she folds herself into them.

“Are you alright? Did I hurt you?”

She shakes her head, not lifting it from where it’s buried in his chest.

“No. I was locked up the whole time. Sam sprang me loose.” She can feel some of the tension leak out of him as he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I shouldn’t have gotten you involved. If you’d stayed-” Not waiting for him to finish his thought, she reaches up and taps the back of his head.

“Shut up. If you’d left without me, you know I’d just have gone to find you and gotten myself into even more trouble.”

He chuckles.

“You do have a way of doing that.”

Neither of them say much for the next few minutes, just concentrating on, in this brief moment, being together. Finally, with a sigh, Bucky separates himself from her and holds her at arm’s length.

“Look at me.”

It’s an abrupt segue, and she frowns.

“I need to make sure this is getting through that pretty and incredibly hard head of yours, because it’s important.” Swallowing down a lump in her throat, she meets his eyes. “If they activate me again, drop any weapons you have, get on your knees, and put your hands up.”

“What-”

“I don’t know much about how all of it works, but I do know that when I’m like that, I’ll ignore you if you don’t present a threat. It’s a shitty solution, but it’s the only way I can think of to half-way make sure you’re safe.” She’s about to protest (he’s with Steve now, whoever that not-a-doctor was is gone, no one’s going to activate him, and even though she knows what he can do, she refuses to be afraid of him), but it’s an old argument, and he cuts her off before she can even get started. “Promise me, Doll. Please.” He’s pleading with her, she realizes. As much as she hates it, the only thing she can do is agree.

“I will, but only if you promise to come back in one piece.” She begs her mind to memorize that smile, every single detail of it, just in case this is their last goodbye.

“It’s a deal.”

___________________________________________________________________________________

He’s drained, utterly and completely. That’s not a way Bucky is used to feeling, but after the past few days and all they’ve held (not to mention going in and out of being the Winter Soldier, never knowing who he’s hurt this time), he has to admit that he’s beat, even if it’s just to himself.

It’s all a blur: captured, activated, back to normal, battle, another battle, and now on a hellicarrier, waiting to go to a small African country he’d never heard of a week ago. If he examines each event closely, he can remember it in full, but why in the hell would he want to do that, especially after the encounter with Stark?

The one bright spot in the maze is that he knows she’s safe, holed up in what used to be a SHIELD safe house (he balked at the idea, as did she, but Steve assured them both that it was abandoned, completely safe), waiting for the all-clear to return to Romania. He’d wondered, with everyone except Steve and himself locked up who would tell her it’s safe to leave, but when Natasha helped them escape, she looked him dead in the eyes and informed him, “I’ll look after her, too.”. He still wonders how she knew where Steve chose as a location, but his best friend told him it’s best not to question how the spy gets her information.

The doors open once again, but he doesn’t look up.

“You look a little worse for wear.”

Even with the super serum, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash, turning his head towards the familiar voice.

“I thought I told you to come back in one piece.”

No, he’s not kidding himself. His senses aren’t fooling him. It’s her. She’s here.

“I did.” She chuckles as she settles into the seat next to him. “More or less.”

Completely ignoring the fact that he’s filthy, covered in at least ten different kinds of muck, she takes his hand in hers. He allows himself the comfort of having her next to him, enjoying the warmth, not just of her body but her presence, before asking,

“Doll, what are you doing here?”

“What I’m usually doing.” She stretches out her legs in front of her as far as they’ll go, then toes off her shoes. “Following you around like a lost puppy.” No, that’s definitely him. Can’t bring himself to stay away even though she’d be safer if he left and never came back. Once upon a time, he fooled himself into believing that so long as he stayed hidden, nobody said those key words, he wouldn’t hurt her. She’d be safer with him to protect her (she can defend herself, sure, but there’s far nastier things out there than just common criminals) than on her own, and besides, she wants him to stay. Now he knows the truth: it doesn’t matter that the Winter Soldier never laid a finger on her. He’s hurt her just from being who he is, sure as he left bruises in the shape of his fingerprints the first night they ever spent together doing something more than sleeping. Well, that ends now. He has to be strong, for her sake.

“I’m not going back to Romania.”

“I know.” She nods. “We’re going to Wakanda.” Here comes the hard part. He can do it. He has to.

“Not “we”. Just me.” It takes a moment, but recognition dawns on her face.

“Are you telling me to leave?”

She says it calmly, but he can tell that inside, she’s already starting to crumble. He should say yes. He’s absolutely telling her to leave. He loves her, god, does he ever, and you don’t hurt the people you love. You protect them, even if that means keeping them away from you. But, even as he prepares to tell her that, he knows the truth.

“Would it do any good if I did?”

“If it was because you truly didn’t want me around, then yes. If it was some self-sacrificing bullshit, then no.”

And there’s the crux of it. He can never tell her to go and truly mean it, just as he could never leave her side without her telling him she wants him gone. He’s simply not that strong, not that noble. Still, he has to try.

“You saw what I did.”

“Yeah, I did.” He feels her sag against his shoulder. “And my opinion hasn’t changed. I’m not afraid of you, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier? Okay, he’s a scary guy, and I’ll be cautious around him, but I trust you.” Her fingers tighten around his. “I love you. That stays the same.”

He swallows hard, trying to get control of himself. There will be a time to put down all his armor, show her how damn tired he is, how if he’s being honest with himself, he just wants to let her take care of him, but not while they’re having this conversation.

“I’m going on ice as soon as we reach Wakanda.”

“Figured as much. I’ll be standing by, pestering them to make sure they do a good job getting what Hydra put in your head back out again.” She tugs gently at his hair. “For now, just relax. It’s only the two of us here. You’ve had a hard couple of days, so just rest.”

He starts to protest that he’s fine, she’s the one who should be decompressing, but then her fingers start working through the hair at his scalp. “You’re safe, Buck. It’s all going to work out.”

“Did you have a vision?” The last thing he sees as he closes his eyes and lets his head fall into her lap is her smile.

“No. Some things you don’t need to see the future to know.”

#marvel #fanfiction #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #steve rogers #captain america #the winter soldier #avengers #self insert

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

Caught in a Blizzard - Part 1

Summary: Luna is going to perform at the Graham Norton show, but little did she know that Chris Evans is going to be a guest as well.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Luna Hwang (Asian OFC)

Warnings: Mentions about sex and some alcohol

Wordcount: 4.5k

A/N: if you want to be on the taglist, just let me know! Also, I love to read your guys’ thoughts and feedback xx

Masterlist // Introduction // Part 2

Tonight I’m the musical guest on the Graham Norton show and I was too lazy to check who were going to be the other guests. I mean, I was severely jet lagged and a bit hungover, because they were serving some real good wine on the airplane and I might have finished an entire bottle and then some more sips from another bottle.

Normally my new agent Gia would be with me when I go to these types of things, to make sure everything is handled correctly and I’m up to date to the most important things, but since she has come down with a flu, just like her two youngest kids, she obviously stayed in New York. She told me I would be doing fine, however I wished that she was with me now, because she could’ve told me that finishing that entire bottle of wine myself wasn’t exactly a good idea (I have no self control, that’s obvious) and mentally prepare me for the other guests.

Now I have exactly five minutes to prepare myself, because I have wasted at least thirty with hyperventilating.

Because of the tough weather, Viola Davis couldn’t be here unfortunately, which is a shame, because she herself is a whole new level of awesome. But on the couch sits the queen herself Reese Witherspoon and THE handsome ass Chris Evans is there as well!

I mean, I obviously have an unhealthy crush on him, because who wouldn’t? He is handsome, he is funny and he is exactly the type of man that I’d like to drag in my bed for some mature activities. Seeing him sitting right there, makes my heart do all sorts of different things. And I realize that when I’m going to join them, I have to sit next to him. I have to sit next to the man who thought that wearing grey plaid pants and a fitted sweater would be appropriate.

Normally I would’ve known who the guests are on the shows that I perform at when I was still with my group Brave Elegance, because we had agents and a few members that actually listened to them when stuff like this was being told. I relied on them mostly, because I was making sure I could perfect my performance, by practicing the dance moves and hum out my rap. Now I’m all by myself and the first time Gia is supposed to be with me, she is sick.

And now I have to eat up the consequences of my own stupid choices.

I wish there was a guide available, that could help me out with one of the biggest problems I have ever encountered in my life: how to NOT embarrass yourself in front of the Chris Evans?

‘So, I have a question,’ Graham Norton starts. ‘Our musical guest Luna is backstage and—’ The audience erupts into a loud applause and whistles. ‘Goodness me, I wasn’t even finished yet!’

The crowd starts to laugh and from the looks of it, Reese Witherspoon and Chris Evans are amused. I take another sip of my water, because my throat feels painfully dry.

‘What I was going to ask is if you two had heard from her,’ Graham continues.

‘I do, actually,’ Reese says. ‘My daughter was a huge fan of hers back when she was in Brave Elegance. I went to three concerts of them actually.’

‘Oh, so you know quite a bit about her?’ Graham asks.

Reese nods. ‘Yes, I do. Back when she was in the band, my daughter was such a big fan of hers. Even had posters of her in her room. I do know that she is really killing the game with her solo projects.’

‘She totally is,’ Chris Evans says. ‘I downloaded her album the second it came out. I loved it.’

I think I forget how to breath. He downloaded my album? Holy crap, this isn’t helping with my nerves.

‘Really?’ Graham asks. ‘I never thought you were the type of guy that would listen to her songs, if I’m being honest.’

‘Well, my niece was a Fairy once, so I knew about the existence of them and heard some songs. But I only started to get really invested in their music during their Golden Globe performance, little did I know that that was going to be one of their last performances. A shame really, I was ready to become a Fairy.’

The Chris Evans Captain America Chris Evans was ready to become part of the fanbase? Oh shit, is this how it feels to have an out of body experience? How am I supposed to act normal after this?’

‘Really?’ Graham asks with a smile. ‘Well lucky you then that she is going to perform here.’

A woman ushers me with her and I follow her through the tiny halls. It’s nearly time for me to get on stage, but how am I going to deal with this? The sound is pretty loud, so I continue to hear what is being said.

‘She has something,’ Reese continues. ‘Like she forces you to watch her. My daughter once showed me a compilation of her on the X-Factor and I was genuinely impressed. She was only seventeen and knew exactly how to pull the audience in. Amazing.’

‘Please, everybody, please give it up for the one and only Luna!’

The audience start to clap and whistle, causing me to smile. I always love it when I hear the whistles and the screams of fans. Graham holds out his hand and I kindly take it, but all of the sudden I feel a little self-conscious about my tight red dress and my over knee boots, but I can’t change now. I must hold my breath the entire time I’m sitting my ass on that couch.

I shake hands with Reese Witherspoon, who compliments me on my outfit and tells me I’m so pretty. Why is this woman such a nice lady?

I quickly wipe my palm when I have to shake Chris Evans’ hand. When I’m with my producers or even back when I was still with the girls from Brave Elegance, I’d tell them how Chris Evans literally bite me wherever he wants, choke me during sex and that every hole I have is right there for him to use.

Now I’m standing in front of him and those things have turned into nothing but idle talk.

I somehow manage to extend my hand without shaking like an idiot an he holds mine in his large one. Oh my, those fingers… Imagine them insi— No, Luna, don’t even go there. You are in public!

‘It’s so nice to meet you, Luna,’ he says with a charming smile and me knees nearly give out. His eyes are glued on me and oh my, he is even more handsome from up close.

‘Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.’ Okay, good, I managed to say seven words to him, in an acceptable order. Progress!

I sit on the left end of the couch, next to Chris Evans and I sure hope the microphone doesn’t pick up on my heartbeat, since I can feel it beating with a force that it actually hurts me.

‘Luna, I’m so happy that you’re here,’ Graham says.

‘Thank you for having me.’

‘Are you excited?’

I nod. ‘This is my first solo interview on television, so I’m a bit nervous, but other than that, I’m very excited. I just hope that I won’t say anything stupid.’

‘You probably won’t,’ Graham says and I don’t feel necessarily assured. ‘I have to say, Luna, you are such an interesting woman.’

‘Is that good or bad?’ I ask.

‘Well, I mean,’ he says, looking at his cards. ‘At the young age of seventeen, you participate in the X-Factor, didn’t win, but did gain four friends. Is it hard to now do your own stuff?’

I think well about this question. Our disbandment was quite messy, though the public doesn’t know about that. The reason we split up was because of the amounts of jealousy between the members and… Me actually. I miss my members every single day and I wish that they were here with me. But I have to realize, that the disbandment was all my fault and if I was just a team player back then, I would still have them around me.

‘It’s hard to be by myself, sometimes. I mean, I have dancers with me, but… It’s different. It can’t be compared to being with four amazingly talented girls with the same dream. So yeah, it’s hard, because I have to figure out how I’m going to do it alone. We were together for six years non stop, so it’s kinda weird.’

‘Your disbandment came as a huge surprise. Did you guys knew that you were going to disband soon?’

‘Well, 2018 was really a rollercoaster of a years and the after shocks of that, went with us to 2019. We were all kind of struggling with our psychical and mental health. I won’t really go into details for the rest of the girls, but I was hospitalized for two months, because I totally overworked myself. Being in a group is hard work and our record label was really putting a lot of pressure on us and after six years, it can be hard to keep up. So, our last two performances… We didn’t really say that it were the last, but deep down we all pretty much knew, you know?’

‘Right… You are the only one that is continuing in the music industry. How come?’

‘Well,’ I say, ‘it’s the only thing I’m good at and I love to do it. I love interacting with fans, being on stage. My new record label is really laid back and they continue to say that we are going at my pace, that my health is the most important and I shouldn’t overwork myself ever, so that really is comforting and I know it’s for the best.’

Graham nods and asks: ‘Did you know that Chris Evans was ready to become a Fairy?’

I shake my head. ‘No, I didn’t.’

‘Tell us, Chris, what was your favorite song and maybe Luna can sing a bit for you.’

I’m going to fucking vomit. Is this truly happening? I bet Gia is watching this right now (or tomorrow, since she is still sick) and she is going to laugh her ass off, just like all the producers and God who knows. I just know.

I carefully look to the side and see Chris Evans smirking. Seeing it in gifs is such an experience, but seeing it in real life… Goodness me.

‘I truly loved ‘You Know, He Did It Too’, especially because it showed how society is really fucked up. It takes two people, but of course only the woman in this story gets the blame, which is not fair.’

‘I’m not going to sing that,’ I say to Graham. ‘Or rap my part.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because…’ I can’t even think of a very good reason to not do it.

‘Come on,’ he coaxes me. ‘When can you say that you rapped in front of Chris Evans? Captain America!’

I sigh, knowing I can’t get out of this.

Remember Bieber, had that fever?

You tiny man, you fucked it up

You should come clean

No need to fake

Your fiancé leave you no matter what

So be a man, suck it up

Take the blame, she ain’t alone.

You little fucker, just spit it out

We do this over and over

Till we fucked up your entire career

‘Damn!’ Graham exclaims. ‘We all watched the news obviously and knew what happened, but you really didn’t hold back with the rap.’

‘Well, funny story,’ I say, ‘originally we wanted the song to be a diss track to society, for only blaming the girl. But then he released a statement, saying that he had nothing to do with it, that she was seducing him and basically that it wasn’t his fault. So that’s when I got mad and changed the entire rap.’

‘Dragging him,’ Chris Evans adds.

I chuckle, feeling all too happy that I can agree with Chris Evans on this. ‘Yeah, dragging him.’

‘I love this,’ Graham says. ‘So, you were just out of high school when you auditioned for X-Factor.’

‘Right,’ I say.

‘You wrote all your raps by yourself. Did you write songs back then?’

I nod. ‘They weren’t any good. I started with really bad poetry and that turned into cringy songs, that were trying to be deep, but it high school cringe. Thanks to the mentors on the X-Factor I was taught about flow and beat and all that good stuff. So I’m really grateful for that.’

Reese says: ‘What always surprised me, was how the raps you wrote matched the songs you girls were performing. But you did that all by yourself, with some help of the mentors?’

I nod. ‘You know, our time being on the X-Factor was hard, but it was so worth it. I feel like my song writing skills have improved over time and I do hope that the album showed my best writing skills and rap skills and sing and dance.’

‘You sure did,’ Graham says. ‘Can you tell us a little about who one of your songs is inspired on?’

I shake my head. ‘My songs aren’t necessarily inspired by anyone or any event really.’ Then I realize that I’m lying. ‘Wait, that is not true. One of my songs was sort of inspired on someone.’

‘I want the details,’ Graham says without skipping a beat, ‘and I want them now. Spill.’

‘Well, Ditch The Boys, Use Your Toys is inspired on someone I had sex with, back in the X-Factor days. We were already going to the next round as Brave Elegance. I had heard some rumors that he was pretty great in bed, causing me to think that if I ever had sex with him, it was going to be mind-blowing, so I had pretty high expectations.’

Graham nods, making it obvious he is really interested in hearing the rest of the story. I look at Reese and Chris, who have amused smiles on their faces.

‘I think we were two minutes into the foreplay, when he… You know… Can I say this on television?’

The host shrugs. ‘I have no idea and I honestly don’t care. I want to know how this story ends, though I might have an idea.’

I chuckle. ‘Well, he penetrates me and I’m like, oh, okay, he really wants to have sex with me. Obviously I was a bit flattered, but I think it took less than thirty seconds before he came already and made really loud and weird noises. And I was confused, because for starters, he came real quick, but I also didn’t understand why so many girls were raving about him. Then, this guy looks me right in the eye and has the audacity to ask me if I enjoyed it as much as he did.’ My eyes widen, while I hold out my hands, as the audience starts to laugh.

‘I really want to know what you said to that,’ Chris Evans says, who seems to enjoy my story a lot.

‘So I stared at him,’ I continue my story. ‘And I said: “Well, if we were trying to be in the Guinness book of World Records for fastest male ejaculation during sexual intercourse, sure, but I wasn’t aware that we were going for a world record”.’

Graham starts to laugh, Reese places her hands on her face to hide her visible gasp and Chris Evans places his hand on his chest while he laughs, a trait that I love with all my heart.

‘But on top of that,’ I go on, ‘he got mad and said that I was an ungrateful bitch for not being happy we had sex.’

Reese scoffs. ‘What an idiot.’

‘So anyways, it was during our X-Factor days, so I got dressed and told him I was going back to my dorm and masturbate, because I obviously couldn’t count on him for some pleasure. Fast forward to two weeks later. We’re waiting for our dance training and the teacher wasn’t there yet and this time around there weren’t camera’s to film anything. So me and some other girls were chatting about orgasms and stuff like that, as one does. Since this said guy was like a few feet away from us and had been telling the other competitors that I was a slut and ungrateful and all, I decided to take my change. I say in a pretty loud voice: “Well, if you want orgasms, you have to skip on sex with… Let’s call him Peter,’—his name was Cole Springs, but I’m not totally heartless and he is doing pretty okay in the country music industry now, so I don’t want to ruin his reputation entirely—‘you have to skip on sex with Peter, because he’ll nut inside of you within thirty seconds. You better ditch that boy and use your toy, because no orgasms for you when having sex with him. So that song was heavily based on someone.’

‘I’m so glad I asked that question,’ Graham says in a giddy voice, causing the rest of the audience and Chris Evans and Reese Witherspoon to laugh as well. ‘I admire you, Luna,’ he adds. ‘You really have the guts to sing about these topics.’

Chris Evans nods. ‘I totally agree.’

‘What is in stores for Luna?’ Graham asks. ‘What can we expect?’

I lean back in the couch. What can they expect? I never thought that far ahead. I was just thinking about promotions for this album. ‘Hopefully a world tour one day,’ I say. ‘I am still working on expanding my back up crew, but I want everyone to feel represented, you know? So, that’s totally what I’m working on and for the rest… I think just more music, more controversies, because it turns out that’s what I do best.’

‘I’m here for it,’ Graham says. ‘Is it hard to sing about certain topics like sex, masturbation and female empowerment?’

I shrug. ‘I feel like someone should do it,’ I admit. ‘I know that people—especially men—have certain opinions about it, but you know… I feel that there is someone out there, that listens songs and feels a bit empowered and that’s all I care about.’

Chris nods. ‘I admire you,’ he says, causing the audience to aww. ‘I bet it can be hard sometimes.’

Are we having a moment right now? I’m lost in his eyes for a few seconds. ‘Sometimes, yeah.’

Graham interrupts this whatever it was by asking if I’m ready to perform.

‘Oh, yeah, totally am.’

‘Please give it up for Luna, who is going to sing a mashup of Inside and Silky Ribbon!’

✘ ✘ ✘

‘You have one new message,’ the robotic voice of the woman says when I want to check my voicemail on my phone. I’m at a pretty chill bar, with a nice bartender who gave me two drinks on the house already, since he liked my album and my appearance on the Graham Norton show.

‘Luna, what the actual fuck?’ Look at that. Cole Springs decided to call me. ‘Do you honestly need to tell that fucking story on television? I already got five texts from people who either ask me if this is about me or simply know it’s about me.’

I click the voicemail away mid sentence, since I really can’t use this right now. I already feel tired and like shit, no need for Cole Springs to make things even worse. ‘Could I have one more please?’ I ask with a pout, as I push my empty glass to the bartender.

‘Sure thing,’ he says. ‘Who was that on your voicemail?’

‘Cole Springs.’

‘The boyband member gone country boy?’

I nod. ‘He wasn’t all too happy I exposed him like that.’

‘That was the Peter in the story?’ The bartender’s laugh fills up the entire bar. ‘This is amazing. He looks like the type of guy that would nut in two seconds.’

I can’t help but laugh, as I feel the vodka already making me feel a bit lightheaded. That feeling however doesn’t stop me from drinking up some more. I stare outside and see that it’s snowing pretty heavily. I’m still wearing the outfit I wore to Graham Norton, but with the thickest coat worn over it. I know that I have to get back to my hotel, but for now I’ll just stall that moment and enjoy it here.

‘How long are you going to stay in London?’ the bartender asks.

‘Dunno, man. Think I’m heading home somewhere tomorrow or the day after that. I honestly don’t know. Normally Gia, my manager would be with me, but she’s sick now.’

The door opens and some guys are yelling something, but I’m too tired to look up. I place my head on my arms, hoping that I can gain some energy to go and hail a cab.

‘Hi there, can I have…’

I look up and see that Chris Evans is standing right next to me, ordering a drink. He looks really handsome, but that is pretty easy, since he is really handsome. Everything he does is simply breathtaking. I bet he has sex every weekend with someone else. I mean, I bet there is a line waiting to have sex with Captain America and I’m somewhere in that line too. ‘Hi,’ I say and he looks up, a smile appearing on his beautiful face when he recognizes me.

‘Hi, Luna, how are you?’

‘Tired and a bit annoyed though.’

‘Oh no.’ He sits on the stool next to me and his knee bumps against mine. ‘Tell me all about it.’

I start to rant about Cole Springs, exposing to Chris as well who the story was about and during that rant, I go on about my past, about the foster care system and how that is bothering me. I rub my face, not caring that my make-up is all smudged over and the alcohol that I just drank is really kicking in now.

‘I think I just have a kink for controversy, you know,’ I say, staring at me empty glass. ‘I love being in the spotlights for everything that is not exactly how it’s supposed to go. When I got arrested at that protest, boy, I liked the attention that got.’

Chris smiles. ‘Well, I hardly think what you do is that controversial. I think you are just a bit ahead of your time.’

‘That is so deep,’ I admit, absolutely in awe by him. ‘Wow, not only are you handsome, but you are pretty much an intellectual as well. You should consider writing. Bet it would be a bestseller.’

‘I think,’ Chris laughs, pulling the drink from my hands, ‘you’ve had enough to drink.’

‘No,’ I whine, but Chris gets out of his chair. ‘I’m boring you, aren’t I?’

‘Not at all, but I think you need to get back to your hotel,’ Chris says. ‘Hearing from your stories, you have to catch a flight tomorrow and I bet you don’t want to be completely hungover then.’

‘I was already hungover this morning,’ I say, sliding off the barstool. Chris holds up my coat and helps me to put it on. ‘I could use a cigarette, you know.’

‘I bet you do.’

I wrap my arm around his broad shoulders and with my other hand, I hold his face. I place my thumb on one cheek and the rest of my fingers on his other cheek. ‘You have such a beautiful face, that you could just lick and not regret it,’ I admit. ‘Has anyone told you that?’

He starts to chuckle. ‘Not with those exact words.’

‘Well,’ I continue, ‘have you ever read fan fiction about yourself?’ I don’t give him time to answer that question, as we walk out of the bar into the cold, Chris’ arm wrapped tightly around my waist. ‘I have,’ I say, ‘especially the real dirty ones. According to those stories, you know exactly how to please a woman. I bet you are really good in bed, a whole lot better than sweet Cole Springs. I bet you can last for hours.’

‘I sure hope so,’ he laughs.

‘Tell me, do you have sex with a new woman every other week? Because I was wondering that and personally, I’m gravitating towards yes, because honestly I think you are a walking sex machine.’

Chris holds out his hand to hail a cab and says: ‘No, I don’t actually. I barely have sex nowadays.’

‘Shut up!’ I yell. ‘No, no, no, that can’t be true.’ I wiggle myself out of his embrace and crouch down on the sidewalk. My fingers touch the snow, a cold sensation that makes me shiver. ‘What happened to the world that you, Chris Captain America Evans, barely has sex nowadays. If you don’t have sex, what is the rest of the world doing? Oh my, you poor thing.’

‘It’s really not that big of a deal, Luna,’ Chris laughs. He holds out his hands and says: ‘Come on, we need to get into the cab.’

‘You hailed a cab?’ I take ahold of his warm hands and jump up. ‘That is so cool. You are so talented.’

He helps me into the cab and I want to pull him on my lap, so he can sit comfortably there, but weirdly enough, he insists on walking around the cab and sitting next to me. ‘So, can you tell me where your hotel is?’

‘I don’t remember,’ I admit. ‘I barely remember anything that happened today. I was pretty hungover when I arrived here.’ I let myself fall to the side, placing my head on his legs. ‘Mister Evans, have you been working out?’ I squeeze his tight muscles in his thighs, admiring what’s in between my fingers. ‘Damn, I bet chicks love to ride your thighs.’

He burst out in laughter. ‘How much did you have to drink?’ he asks.

‘Just a few shots,’ I admit. ‘But I don’t really handle alcohol that great, to be honest. I’m wasted like that.’ I attempt to snap my fingers, but I fail miserably. My hands look for his and when I finally have one in my hand, I admire his beautifully shaped fingers. ‘You have lovely hands. You have spanked a girl’s ass with these? Or anyone’s ass for that matter’

He starts to laugh. ‘You are unbelievable,’ he says.

‘I’ve never been spanked,’ I confess. ‘I’d love that though. You know, I sing about sex a lot, but to be honest, I haven’t had proper sex in like a year. I mean, my toys do miracles, just like my hands and all. But I just want to have hot and heavy sex.’ I look up and hold out my hand, to touch his beautiful face. His beard pricks against my skin, but I’m not complaining at all.

In the background I hear Chris say something to me, but I close my eyes and fall asleep.

Taglist: @diegos-butt

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans x original female character #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #caught in a blizzard #chris evans x luna hwang #chris evans x singer #chris evans x luna

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