#how do you stand your ground against people who are so quick to label you as some sort of druggie | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

axigailxo · 1 year

Text

Pretty Like You | PJM (1)

part one: mini-skirts and big problems

— in which park jimin desires nothing more than to be pretty like you.

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, eventual smut, sub!jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.2k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised

ch summary. an introduction into the crumbling life of park jimin and his cat, daisy.

**this is part 1 of my new series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | next->

It’s horrendous.

Implausible, even.

No human being should’ve looked that good on a Monday. But of course, like always, you did. You always do.

Jimin has drawn the conclusion that there’s no way you’re naturally that stunning and you go the extra mile to get ready every morning. And he thinks it’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous that you’d get up an extra hour or two earlier just to show up to a class that only lasts a little over an hour where you’re just sat behind a desk the whole time.

But then again, Jimin appreciates your attire. So much so that he was able to memorize it from this morning’s lecture.

A dainty black miniskirt with a cami and cardigan that Jimin may or may not have a replica of, and the sheerest shade of pantyhose to really capture that sex appeal you love. Jimin has noticed, by now, that you try to add at least one sexy article to every single outfit you wear. Jimin notices, and Jimin hates it.

He hates that you can dress sexily without the fear of being judged, whereas for Jimin, it’s not so easy.

Tossing another cropped tee into the mountain of clothes piling on the floor, Jimin’s huff is quick to turn into something of a strangled cry as he collapses to the ground, back against the side of his bed.

As if on cue, a furry figure of a cat peaks into the doorframe, walking in proudly like it owns the place. At this rate, it does considering it’s always there to ease Jimin during these troubling times.

Daisy takes care of Jimin, and on occasion, it’s the other way around.

Daisy, Jimin’s calico cat, nudges her soft head against his arm that’s lazily slumped down, encouraging him to pet her. When he does, her purrs rev up like an engine and the small gesture is enough to steal a slight twitch of a smile from the man.

However, it doesn’t stop the oncoming sob.

Tears fresh and emotion at its highest, Jimin stays sat on the ground wearing nothing but the repulsive baggy sweatpants that he forced himself to wear only because it’s better to pretend he likes dressing that way than wearing what he actually likes and getting judged.

Jimin, believe it or not, is a coward. His words. He hates that he can’t just put the damn skirt on. He hates how he can’t bring himself to leave his apartment in that cute cropped tee that he bought ages ago and still has never worn.

He hates how he’s such a pussy when it comes to this.

But it’s not just skepticism. Jimin knows there’s not a lot of nice people out there, especially not at his college campus. Don’t get Jimin started on all the homophobic and pitiful words that frat boys have thrown at him so far in the span of his first year. And that was when he was wearing his clothes that he believed were seven sizes too big and awfully plain.

His “boy” clothes.

Jimin knows that in today’s society, you’re labeled. Weather you want to be or not, every passing stranger is going to label you as what they see. And with said frat boys, the ones with a single brain cell, if they ever saw Jimin wearing the clothes that he has piled in front of him— he’d fit their accusations.

Jimin was raised by only his mother, who was raised by only her mother and a sister. Jimin has had absolutely no male figure in his life so it’s not bizarre that his demeanor is more feminine than most men.

But people at school aren’t so smart, or nice. Therefore, Jimin isn’t just a boy who was raised by a woman, to them— he was just gay. Jimin hates how his demeanor is what chooses his sexuality. Because, contrary to those frat boys’ belief, Jimin is straight.

He may not know a lot about himself at the ripe age of 21, but he knows for sure that he’s not into men. Being a teen and liking things that the world tells you is for girls definitely made Jimin question his own sexuality time to time, but after a couple nights out at a gay bar and a two extremely awkward hookups, Jimin knew men weren’t up his alley. Especially not when the thought of women is what gets him off every single time.

He just wants to wear a damn skirt and have a girlfriend, is that really so much to ask for?

Daisy was able to sneak her way onto Jimin’s lap, already half asleep despite Jimin’s occasional jolts when he sniffles for air.

“Thank you Daisy,” he whispers, his fading cry turning into a soft giggle when the feline looks up at him, eyes glinting with a look that Jimin knows by now.

“Or are you just being nice to me because you’re hungry?”

Daisy continues to nudge her head against his chest, confirming his accusation and enticing Jimin’s first real giggle.

“Okay,” Jimin says in an exhale, more in an attempt to get ahold of himself. “Fine, let’s get you some food.”

The cat happily jumps off Jimin’s lap at the invitation, hurriedly exiting the bedroom and scurrying off to the kitchen before Jimin can even make it off the ground. When he does, he nearly trips on the mound of hopeless clothes, eyeing it over before trailing his vision to the standing mirror.

His eyes scan over his chest, down to his waist, and to his hips. He loves his shape, loves the way women’s clothing looks on him. It’s too bad no one will be able to appreciate it the way he does, though. It’s too bad he can’t show it off like he so badly wishes to.

Like how you do.

You get to dress in fitted clothing and show off your shape without an intense fear of getting judged or labeled. Jimin despises how blind you are to that advantage. He despises how badly he wishes he could be you for even a day.

Because for Jimin, he has to hide. Whereas for you, you’re allowed to be beautiful whenever you want.

Even on Mondays.

“What do you think, Daisy? Be honest.”

Peeling his eyes away from his reflection, he twists to show Daisy, who’s freshly awake from a nap, his outfit that he’s in love with.

A grumpy meow is all he gets before her eyes slowly shut again and Jimin scoffs in offense.

“Whatever, you just don’t have taste.”

Turning to face himself again, he bites back a smile as he snaps yet another mirror pic of himself, halting midway as he adjusts himself to sit on his knees. And it’s when the miniskirt rises up his thigh that he gets an idea.

Thigh highs.

A subtle gasp of excitement escapes the boy as he recklessly tosses his phone onto the bed— completely missing which makes him flinch in startle in response to the thud that followed. Navigating to his dresser, he ignores Daisy who clearly did not appreciate the sudden noise, and begins to dig in his scandalous drawer for the thigh high socks.

And yes, Jimin has something he calls his scandalous drawer. It’s for moments like these where he wants to add sex appeal to his outfit.

Kind of like how you do.

“There you are,” he murmurs under his breath as he takes hold of the long white fabrics. He doesn’t wait until he’s back in front of the mirror to put them on, sitting on the edge of his bed and hurriedly slipping the thigh high socks on.

Jimin just knows he looks good. He can feel it. He feels sexy, and he hasn’t even looked in the mirror yet. A miniskirt paired with thigh high socks and an open cardigan— no shirt.

And fuck does he feel good in it.

Not able to wait any longer he tiptoes to the mirror until he’s met with the figure he wishes the world could see.

Jimin loves his appearance, a lot. It’s just that the version he loves is only seen on rare occasions like this where he spontaneously decides to try his risky outfits on. No one else can or will see this version, and for that, Jimin’s self love is private. Almost invisible given how little he lets himself see it.

“Good call on the thigh highs,” he mumbles to himself, staring a little longer until he starts to notice all the imperfections. When he does, he’s quick to step away, landing himself back first onto his unmade bed that Daisy was way too content in.

“Move it, there’s room for both of us,” he tells her as she mopes over to the opposite side.

One hand behind his head, other on his stomach— toying with the ruffled hem of the skirt, Jimin stares at the ceiling as his nightly dose of thoughts kick in. And tonight, all he can really think about is how badly he wishes someone could see him. And if he’s lucky enough, earn a compliment or two. Maybe, if his luck was good, he’d be called pretty if someone saw him dressed like this.

But his luck has never been good.

It was his poor luck that made him be born into a rude and strict society. And he hates that. But what can he do? He’s just a person in this big world. He doesn’t believe his voice is loud enough for change. And even if it were, he’d still be too much of a coward to try.

It’s all one big tangled problem that he’s trapped in.

He’s only a freshman in college and he feels like the world is ending.

But does yours? Jimin wonders. For a long moment or two he ponders if you sometimes feel that way too. Of course it wouldn’t be for the same reason as him, but could there be something that weighs you down?

And if so, how the fuck do you mask it so easily with that bright smile of yours?

Maybe because you’re perfect, Jimin thinks.

So perfect that Jimin is laying on his bed wearing an outfit almost identical to the one you wore today all only because he thought it looked great on you. He wanted to feel great too.

He wanted to feel the way you probably do in such fragile clothing. Leaving absolutely nothing to imagination because that’s how brave you are. Jimin envies that. He wants that.

Bravery, of course— not you.

He wants to be brave enough to show some skin and go the whole day feeling good. Feeling confident and relieved. But that day won’t come, unfortunately. All he has is the privacy of his apartment to feel brave in these clothes.

But even when Jimin is hard on himself, that doesn’t stop him from wanting to just feel good sometimes.

And there’s no better way than this.

Somehow in the mix of his thought spiral his small fingers managed to drag his skirt up the length of his thigh, cold air traveling straight to his exposed tip.

He knew he wasn’t wearing underwear. He did that on purpose. Again, he wanted to feel good.

He wanted to feel sexy.

His fingers slide their way across his left thigh, getting higher and higher until his breathing is hitched and his bottom lip is raw.

But then he stops himself.

Quickly adjusting the skirt, he sits up with a sharp breath.

What was that?

It’s one thing to touch himself, he always does— everyone does. But he will not do such a thing with you fresh in mind. You already have some power over him. He won’t give you this as well. And It doesn’t matter if you know about it or not because he always will.

He already hates that he envies you so much, he will not envy you like this too.

You’re just an annoying, perfect, confident girl who has no idea how lucky she is. Jimin doesn’t envy that part. He just envies your fashion sense. That’s it.

All he needs is some sleep.

Hopefully when he wakes up, not only will his hard on be gone but so will you. Not a single thought of you will be in his mind from this point forward, Jimin declares to himself.

Let’s just hope you don’t find your way into his dreams.

Like always.

“Nice jacket.”

“You’re not funny.”

A subtle laugh escapes the man, playfully nudging Jimin which causes him to almost fall off the bench.

“Taehyung!” Jimin whines as he regains his balance on the tiny seat, crashing his hips into his friend’s on a mission to knock him down too.

He fails, earning another mischievous laugh from the man.

“Sorry. Now what were you saying you had to tell me?”

Sat in a corner table with Jimin’s one and only friend in their favorite campus cafe, Jimin sets his bag on the table and turns to face him.

“Hello to you too,” he scolds.

A boxy smile is given and before he can greet the fed up boy back he’s already talking.

“Last night,” Jimin begins, brows furrowed in half embarrassment half concentration. “Something weird happened.”

“Did Daisy catch you jerki—“

“Tae!” Jimin cuts him off in a whisper-shout, hoping no bystanders hear his unfiltered words.

“Joking. What happened last night?”

Jimin sighs as he tries to find his thoughts again. He had it all organized in his mind but his friend’s reckless banter has made it all the more scrambled and confusing.

To put it simply, Jimin doesn’t know how to tell his best friend that he thinks his crush made him hard last night.

Ah, yes. Kim Taehyung. His and Jimin’s friendship goes all the way back to freshman year of high school, also known as Jimin’s worse year ever. Endless bullying and his identity crisis at its peak, Jimin was so done with everyone and everything. That’s until one of the most popular boys in school took him under his wing.

Taehyung has been Jimin’s shield for almost five years now, defending him from every derogatory slur and glare from arrogant frat boys. And being a frat boy himself, Taehyung had most, if not all of those arrogant asshole’s respect. And with that being the case, they’d never disrespect Jimin in front of Taehyung.

And it’s nice having at least one friend to help him out, Jimin thinks.

The only underside is that his one friend has no clue about his secret and God only knows if he’d still accept Jimin if he did. And that he’s in the fraternity for fucks sake.

Also that he has a massive crush on you.

That may or may not be another reason Jimin doesn’t like you so much. You have the whole school wrapped around your finger, and unfortunately for Jimin, that includes his best friend.

“Hello? Earth to Jimin,” Taehyung tries to get the older boy’s attention.

Blinking himself back to space, he shakes his head as he discards where he was going with the conversation.

“I forgot.”

“Bullshit.”

“I did,” Jimin rolls his eye, snatching Taehyung’s coffee and taking an obnoxiously big sip to shift the attention away from what he originally had to say.

Taehyung doesn’t believe him, but he respects Jimin enough to not pry.

“Whatever. Just know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah yeah,” Jimin shakes off.

And he knows that. Taehyung may be friends with all of those terrible guys who’ve made Jimin’s life hell, but he’s still good to him. Believe it or not Jimin has had many other issues that weren’t about his secret, and with each one Taehyung was the one who provided him a shoulder to cry on.

They’re close enough to joke about all the things Jimin gets bullied for. Like his jacket for example, it’s the same one he wears probably three days out of the week. It’s big and ugly but Jimin thinks it’s boyish so he wears it. Anything to hide. The frat boys still give him shit for it, though. But Taehyung loves it, and he thinks the hate it gets is so ridiculous that he himself teases Jimin about it occasionally. And Jimin finds it funny when it’s Taehyung who teases him, because he knows it’s coming from a place of close friendship. Unlike those other frat boys.

But despite how close they are, he knows he can’t talk about his secret, or you with Taehyung. That’s the one part of him he’d like to keep tucked away for as long as he can endure.

“Alright, well I’m gonna get going. I told Johnny I’d meet him at the dorms so we can get a session in before class.”

“Smoking is bad for you,” says Jimin as he rolls his eyes.

“So is sulking, lift your head up Minnie,” Taehyung massages at Jimin’s shoulder for a second or two before he gets up and grabs his stuff.

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re always sulking,” The younger man teases as Jimin swats his hand off of his shoulder. “We’ll talk later?”

Jimin hums in what Taehyung assumes is agreement, ruffling his hair before making his way over to the door of the cafe. A grumpy Jimin is left behind fixing his hair, gathering his stuff too so he can head to class early.

Nothing beats the stares he gets as many students still, to this day, wonder how on Earth Taehyung is friends with him. It’s fucked up, really, but Jimin is used to it.

He’s used to favoritism in the school, and Jimin groans as he realizes he’ll be seeing more of it for the next hour or so that he’ll be seeing you in class.

But he can’t seem to figure out if he’s more excited to see you than he is annoyed.

Jimin is furious.

Nothing new, except that this feeling of anger isn’t rooted from jealousy or insecurity— It’s because you rejected his kindness.

Jimin, like many, were eyeing your outfit. It’s dainty and may even be the prettiest shade of baby blue Jimin has ever seen. So when he forced himself to smile your way when you caught him staring, he did not expect an eye roll from you. But nonetheless, it happened, and Jimin hates you a little bit more now.

Jaw clenched and eyes piercing lasers into the big clock on the far wall of the lecture hall, Jimin counts down the seconds until he’s able to free himself from this torturous environment. Until he frees himself from you.

When the clock does hit the desired time, he’s the only student to stand up— earning him several stares which only makes him angrier, and with little to no more patience left he’s walking out the doors on a mission to channel this frustration.

Past the corridor and straight to the art room— also known as the room that’s almost always empty because why is there an art class in a writing school in the first place— Jimin slams his bag down on the first desk he sees and sits himself down.

Why couldn’t you prove him wrong?

Why couldn’t you just have smiled back?

You just had to roll your eyes when Jimin didn’t even like you in the first place. If he had it his way he would’ve snapped profanities the moment your eyes met. But he’s not a monster. He’s polite.

So polite that he smiled your way and now regrets it miserably.

Jimin can’t stand you now.

Grabbing a random notebook from his bag, he does what any angry writing major would do and begins to jot down all the many reasons he hates you, all in the form of scattered thoughts.

Conceited.

Privileged.

Spoiled.

All words that are used quite frequently in his paragraph of scribbled rage.

Beautiful.

Unique.

Mesmerizing.

All words that he hates to admit but must include because they’re the reason he hates you like he does.

Jimin goes on and on for a while writing nothing but blunt absurdities that are simple and cuts straight to the point, majority of them being repetitive I hate you’s. It’s not until he finds himself at the peak of frustration that it all boils down to an ache within him.

Jimin thinks about why you anger him so much. He thinks about that outfit he could’ve worn today if only he wasn’t so scared. Then, Jimin writes down every raw, painful feeling he has.

Why do you have to be so beautiful? Why can’t I be like you? I often wonder if you think about my predicament. I wonder if it ever crosses your mind that I’m even one percent envious of you. When I think about that, it hurts even more.

I wish you knew I was hurting because of you.

You don’t know me well. I hardly know you. But what I’m certain of is that you’re the most beautifully ignorant person I’ve ever come across and I do hope one day you’ll realize how blind you are.

You’re blind to your reality of easiness. It’s not easy for me. I can’t wear that shade that you do. Can’t wear a shirt so low cut like that either. Because for me, I’m expected to dress like someone I’m not.

This isn’t me.

And I think I may hate you most because I see the real me in you. That courageous being who doesn’t even think twice about breaking the rules of my gender; that’s the real me. Although I hate both versions of me because neither of them have helped me out of this suffocating barrier.

I want to be me.

I wish you weren’t you.

I want to be you.

A slam of a period is what concludes the built up momentum, pencil flying across the desk as he slouches back in his chair with an exhale. He skims over the words that are quite dark since he was applying significant pressure. He vaguely reads some words until he’s not in the mood to think about any of it anymore and closes the journal shut.

And although he didn’t reread that essay of his, the last sentence still can’t seem to leave his mind.

Even if it’s just for a moment, he wants to be you.

Racing down the long hall of the unnecessarily large school, his strides echo off the walls as his heartbeat is ten steps ahead of him.

He should’ve never written that journal, he thinks.

He should’ve never left it in class either.

The passing of two more doors is all it took until he was standing out of breath in the threshold of what he hoped would be an empty classroom, the journal that he was going to grab and go no longer being in the spot he had left it.

His heartbeat almost fails him, legs buckling as his thoughts falter.

He knows it’s you. He knows your figure. He also knows that you’re standing there, reading his journal full of absurd remarks about how he wishes he were you.

Jimin wants to die. He wants it all to just dissipate. But before the boy can erase what he just walked in on, you turn around.

Journal open in your hand, your eyebrows are furrowed and Jimin doesn’t know if he can withstand that look of genuine concern on your face.

He also doesn’t know if that’s a good or bad look.

“I’m not gay,” he helplessly throws his panicked words up.

Slightly less confident, having used up all his energy on those three words, he manages to follow up, “…if that’s what you’re thinking.”

And the giggle that escapes you despite what you just read, the cruel things he wrote about you even though you did absolutely nothing but be beautiful, Jimin notes how badly he’s fucked up.

“It’s not,” you respond, slowly closing the journal, eyes following.

It’s while you’re still looking down that you decide to ask your first question.

“Listen, Jimin,” you bring your eyes up, tone a little too concerned for his liking. “Do you want to talk?”

Talk.

“Those things you wrote, it’s just—“ you stop yourself. “I know you didn’t mean for anyone to read it but from what I saw I think you need someone to help you learn to be kinder to yourself.”

Jimin opens his mouth to talk only to close it when he realizes he doesn’t know how to respond.

“I know it’s none of my business and I’m sorry for reading, but I don’t want you to feel like that. Let me help you.”

Jimin feels like a villain in a movie. He feels like the worst possible character there could ever be. He feels like a bad person. Because there he was all this time, writing about how much he hates you for being you, and here you are now, asking him to accept your help seconds after you just read everything.

The world does not deserve someone like you, he thinks. He does not deserve someone like you.

But as much as he feels unworthy, he’s never been more excited at the opportunity to get to know you. To have you there beside him on this new journey of self love.

“Okay,” he accepts, voice quiet and still embarrassed.

“Okay,” you repeat, smile big and hope at its highest.

Okay.

~~~

a/n: part one of a new seriesss les mf goooo (i missed writing so much omg, hope y’all like this one im vry excited abt it 🥹) ALSO part 2 isn’t as confusing lmao, it’s always difficult to clearly start out a series :/ pero i promise it’ll make more sense along the road :)

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39

taglist = open, let me know if you’d like to be added <3

805 notes · View notes

justagalwhowrites · 10 months

Text

Beskar Doll - Ch. 20: The Outpost

The hunt for the general continues. You and the Mandalorian have a chance to do some good. A continuation of Beskar Doll ch. 1-19 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x Female Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical violence. No use of Y/N. Minors DNI 18+ only.

Length: 4.8k

The bar, it seemed, had regulars. Much of the crowd that had been there in the previous afternoon was there again. You’d explored the outpost a bit more that morning, taking note of places that seemed questionable, things that could be Imperial hide outs. You also noted places where the Crest could safely land, if needed, and stopped at a weapons stand. There was a vibroknife there, one similar to the knife you’d stolen on Hosnian Prime that you were pretty sure had burned with your house on Dantooine. You bought it, figuring you could just add it to the tally of whatever it is you owed the Mandalorian - he still hadn’t given you a number.

You’d always been partial to knives. Doing the work you’d done, you’d frequently wind up in close quarters and you could never rely on having more reach or more strength when it came to your opponents. But if you were close and could get more inside, a knife got the job done. And people rarely looked for knives. They took a blaster and assumed you were unarmed. A mistake that had served you well.

You hadn’t learned much in your travels that day, however. Still no indication of the general, beyond the one lead you had from the bar the day before. You wondered if he actually lived anywhere near there or if he was on the move, that this was one just one of his frequent stops to find information, people, supplies.

The outpost itself was bleak. It was a hub for the junk trade, one of the main industries on Jakku, and what there was here seemed to have grown out of that. Small spaceport, stores that sold the bare minimum. There was another cantina and inn, too, but after a quick stop, you quickly ascertained it wasn’t what you were looking for. Not unless Imps had suddenly gotten a lot smarter - something you doubted.

You used the people in the bar as a gauge for how often you should come and go. Many seemed to stay there all day, others would only stay for an hour. One or two others approached you for work but you kept turning them down, saying they weren’t offering enough or that the job wasn’t worth your talents. You’d have to take a job eventually, if Shadrin held out for longer than a few more days. Just sitting there, saying you wanted work but not taking any, would look suspicious before too long.

It had gotten dark out when the man from the day before came in, approaching your table.

“Still here,” he said, sitting down across from you.

“Not much on this rock that’s worth my time,” you shrugged. “I had higher hopes.”

“Unfortunately, we’ve fallen far,” he sighed. You raised a brow. “When I think about the power we used to have, what we could do…”

“What’d you do?” You asked, taking a sip of your beer. He peeled the label on his bottle.

“First Lieutenant, ground forces on Naboo,” he said. Your jaw tightened, reflexively. “Ever been out that far?”

“Once or twice,” you took a sip of your beer. “Grew up on Tatooine so it wasn’t far. Got my blaster there, solid weaponry.”

“Good thing they didn’t have a standing army,” he smirked.

“You stay through Cinder?” You asked, digging the nails of the hand he couldn’t see into the back of the booth your arm was draped across. You needed an outlet. You couldn’t scream at him or shoot him or beat him sitting here and expect to make it back. You took it out on the booth.

“Yeah,” he took a drink. “We were up against those fucking frogs, who knew lower lifeforms would put up such a fight.”

You dug your nails in harder. You’d worked closely with the Gungans in your time on Naboo, had always admired their people and culture. This man had slaughtered them.

“Ever make it to Theed?” You asked, against your better judgement, really. As if you needed more reasons to want to destroy him. “Only place I really saw.”

“Few times,” he shrugged. “Ended Cinder there, actually.”

“Really?” You asked, brows raised. It would be so easy to kill this man. You could shoot him or slit his throat or entice him back to your room and take your time with him. If you cut his tongue out he couldn’t even properly call for help.

“If it hadn’t been for the fucking rebels we’d have destroyed them,” he almost growled. “The whole planet was fucking useless, save for a few people around the palace.”

You took a sip of beer to hide your expression. If he’d crossed your path that day, he’d be dead. All he’d done was delay it. You were killing him. Not today, perhaps, but soon.

“Your friend still looking to hire?” You asked.

“Mentioned you to him,” he replied. “He’s interested in meeting you.”

“I’d like to know the job,” you said. “I don’t like wasting my time on pointless bantha shit.”

“Is the glory of our Empire pointless bantha shit?”

“No,” you shrugged. “But revenge missions are. I’m all for stamping out rebels and the New Republic and doing everything we can to retake power but I’m not going to be part of some officer’s tantrum. I’ve got better shit to do.”

“Suppose you’ll have to meet with him then,” he smirked.

“When?”

“Two days,” he said. “Meet you here, dusk.”

“Fine,” you replied. “Assuming I don’t have a better offer by then.”

“Trust me,” he said. “You won’t.”

You stuck around for a bit after he left, watching as people filtered back out of the bar before going upstairs and flipping on the comm.

It was the first time you’d tried to talk to the Mandalorian since he’d talked you through fucking yourself in your room. You sighed. This had the potential of being so uncomfortable.

“Mando?” You said, wincing at how hesitant you sounded.

“There you are,” he responded barely a second after you finished saying his name. “What did I tell you?”

You frowned. You didn’t get a chance to ask another question, he answered before you could ask it.

“Every 12 hours, Doll,” he snapped. “I was about to come find you, it’s been damn near 24.”

“Right,” you winced again. “Sorry.”

“What were you thinking?” He demanded. You thought about saying what you actually had been thinking - that every time the man made you cum he seemed to want to pretend like you didn’t exist for a while after so you figured why bother him. Instead, you sighed.

“Got an early start, didn’t want to wake you up since we’d just talked,” you said. Talked was a strong word for what you’d done the night before but fuck it, why not. “Didn’t really have a good chance to step away. I have more information though.”

He was silent for a second. “What is it.”

You filled him in on the meeting, leaving out the stuff about the contact you had made. No need to tell the Mandalorian you’d be leaving at least one Imp body behind you.

“Sounds promising,” he said. “Think he’ll meet with you there or make you go somewhere?”

“Probably second location,” you shrugged.

“Don’t like that,” he replied.

“Worst case he’s got some ex-stormtroopers with him,” you shrugged. “I can take them.”

“How many stormtroopers have you handled alone,” he was skeptical.

“In one go?” You asked. “Took down more than a dozen on my own once.”

You left out the fact that after those 13 or 14 troopers you were overrun and nearly died.

Din was silent for a moment. You smirked.

“I still don’t like it.”

“Are you mad that my body count is higher than yours?” You asked.

“It’s not,” he replied. You laughed. “Meet him, confirm the ID, then call me.”

“How am I supposed to get out without arousing suspicion?” You frowned. “Hey, nice to meet you General, but now that I know who you are, time for me to go call my bounty hunter friend to haul you in?”

“You’re smart,” he said. “You’ll figure it out.”

You ground your teeth.

“Working with you is going to be difficult,” you said. You could almost hear him shrug over the comm.

“There’s a reason I work alone.”

“Because no one could tolerate your attitude?”

He was quiet. You sighed.

“How’s the kid?” You asked.

“He’s been bouncing off the walls today,” he sighed. “I’ve almost got the ship fixed, but I haven’t been able to spend much time with him. So he’s started finding ways to entertain himself.”

As if on cue, there was a squeal in the background and the Mandalorian sighed.

“Do me a favor and keep yourself in one piece,” he said. “This makes me nervous, Doll.”

“I’ll try my best,” you replied.

“And Doll?”

“Yes?”

“Call in the morning.”

You actually obeyed this time, calling him before you left your room, cautioning him that you wouldn’t call again until you were back in the room for the night. But you liked the sound of his voice in the morning. You stretched out on the bed and closed your eyes, pretending he was next to you instead of outside the outpost, that you were just having a conversation before starting your day, almost like you were a couple. Maker, that was a weird thing to consider. But it didn’t feel weird to want it, not with him.

You wandered the outpost again before settling in at the bar for the afternoon. You expected a quiet day and were halfway through your first beer when a woman you hadn’t seen before came into the bar. The bartender approached her and you saw her nod in your direction. You steeled yourself, straightening your spine. The woman ran to you, her eyes wide as she almost fell into the booth across from you.

“She said you were for hire,” she grabbed your wrist as you held your beer. You glared at her. “Please, I need help.”

“With what?” You asked, fighting your natural urge to jump up and find out what troubled her.

“A junk trader is convinced my son stole from him,” she clung to your wrist. “I can’t get him to listen to me, please…”

“Pay him off,” you shrugged.

“I can’t afford it,” she was frantic.

“Then you can’t afford me.”

“Please,” her fingers dug into you. You tried to beseech her with your eyes. She had to try harder, you couldn’t just get up and go help her. An Imp wouldn’t do that. Her eyes narrowed at you and she released your wrist, smacking her hands on the table. “You all talk about how we were better under the Empire but we need help and where are you? If your fucking Empire was so great, do something!”

You almost smiled at her. That would do it.

“Fine,” you said, standing. “Let’s go.”

She looked surprised and you followed her out of the bar, keeping your pace leisurely until you were out of the door. You picked up the pace then.

“Who has him and where is he?” You asked. The woman looked surprised.

“Junk trader, he works on the blackmarket,” she said. “He’s convinced my son stole something from one of the wrecks he says is his but…”

“Here at the outpost?” You asked.

“Just outside,” she said.

“Have a speeder?” She shook her head. You sighed. “Come on.”

You led her to the speeder bike you’d stolen, getting on and jerking your head, commanding her to get on the back.

“Tell me where.”

“North side of the outpost,” she said. “About two clicks out.”

“I go the wrong way,” you said. “Tell me.”

You tried to ignore the nerves in you as you piloted the speeder to the outskirts of town, to a small hut in the shadow of the hulking shell of a Star Destroyer. It was easy to forget how huge those ships were when you saw them in the vastness of space. On land, they seemed impossibly large. There were two men outside standing guard, holding rifles.

Their grip grew tighter on their weapons as you pulled up outside the hut. You smirked. They may be thugs but they were apprehensive. They might intimidate the people who lived here but for someone like you? They were nothing.

“Stay behind me,” you ordered. “And stay quiet.”

The men approached you, meeting you halfway between where you parked and the hut.

“What’chu want,” one said, spitting into the sand at your feet. You looked down at it before looking up at him.

“I don’t deal with lackeys,” you said. “Where’s your boss.”

“Who’s askin’?” The other man said.

“A friend of the boy your boss is holding hostage,” you replied. “He can let him go or he can deal with me. Tell him to decide quick, I don’t give second chances.”

“That a threat?” The first man who spoke stepped closer, adjusting the grip on his rifle. You sighed. So stupid. He was so close he couldn’t even point the gun at you properly.

“No,” you said, grabbing the vibroknife from its holster at your thigh and jamming it into his arm in one swift motion. The man screamed and fell to his knees, dropping the rifle. The woman behind you gasped and you caught the rifle as it fell, pointing it at the other man. “That was a kindness. I won’t be so kind again. Tell your boss to free the boy or he deals with me.”

The man backed up a few steps, watching you, before running for the door. You lowered the weapon and slung it onto your back. The man at your feet whimpered and you pulled the knife from his arm.

“Your boss have bacta?” You asked. He just groaned. You sighed. “Hold still.”

You cut part of the man’s shirt free and tied off his arm above the wound, stemming the bleeding.

“Find a better line of work,” you said, standing back up. “You’re not cut out for this.”

He clutched the wound at his arm and you watched as half a dozen people emerged from the hut, all surrounding one tall, broad Abednedo and a boy who couldn’t have been any older than 13 who was trying to look like he hadn’t just been crying. The woman behind you cried out, but you shushed her.

“Who the hell do you think you are, interfering in my business,” the Abednedo said.

“Friend of the boy’s,” you replied. “Return him and we’ll be on our way.”

He closed some of the gap between you, leaving the boy with his entourage.

“And why would I do that?” He asked. “He’s a thief. Took what’s mine.”

“What’d he take?” You asked.

“Computer from that destroyer,” he jerked his head back to the corpse of the starship behind him.

“What’s your name?”

“Craner Kree,” he snapped.

“Well, Kree,” you replied. “Seems like even if he did take the computer, he’s stealing from the Empire, not you, and he can answer to me for that crime. I can make you answer to me, too, if you’d like.”

A man from his entourage started for you and your hand went to your blaster, ripping it from its holster, firing and returning it to its holster before the man even fell to the sand. The guns all turned to you. Kree held up a hand, stopping them from shooting. He was in the line of fire and his staff seemed dumb enough to shoot, anyway.

“Don’t think the Imperials back at the outpost would take too kindly to you staking a claim to this ship,” you said. “Wonder what would happen if I confirmed that suspicion for them? Be it because I tell them or because I don’t make it back.”

Kree’s eyes narrowed at you. You held his glare.

“Fine,” he gave his lackey a wave and he shoved the boy forward. The kid stumbled and looked back before looking over his shoulder for a moment and then running for his mother. She clutched him to her chest, sobbing. You smiled.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you said. You looked do the man on the ground. “I’m keeping your rifle.”

You started back toward the speeder, putting your hand on the woman’s back and guiding her while she was lost in checking on her son.

“Sleep with one eye open, Imp!” Kree yelled.

You ignored him, getting on the speeder. The mother and son got on behind you and you tried to pretend you weren’t fucking terrified to be piloting a damn speeder bike with two additional passengers.

You stopped on the edge of town, getting off the bike.

“Please,” she looked like she was about to cry. “I swear my son didn’t take any computer, he didn’t steal from the Empire…”

“I don’t care if he steals from the Empire,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “It was just a way to get Kree to back off. Was that the first time Kree’s caused trouble?”

“No,” she said after a moment, holding her son to her chest. She seemed surprised that you weren’t going to punish her. But then, she thought you were Imperial. “He’s done the same thing to several other families here, forces them into debts…”

You nodded once, pulling out your com link and flicking it on.

“Mando,” you said. “Need a favor. I’m not alone.”

There was a pause before he replied.

“Go on.”

“Still have your guild contacts?” You asked.

“Yes.”

“Have them check on any open pucks on one Craner Kree,” you said. “Probably low level stuff but he could use cleaning up.”

“I’ll take your word,” he replied. “Where is he?”

“North side of the outpost,” you said. “About two clicks out, near the downed destroyer. Little hut, big idiots out front, can’t miss it.”

“Consider it done. Do I want to know why you know about this guy?”

“Probably not.”

He sighed.

“Remember what I told you.”

“I’ll do my best,” you rolled your eyes, flicking off the com before he had a chance to reply and sticking it back in your pocket. “He won’t be an issue anymore.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” she said. “I don’t have anything to pay you with right now but I promise, when the harvest comes…”

“I don’t want your money,” you said. “Just keep your head down until tomorrow, in case Kree decides to hold a grudge.” You handed her the speeder keys. “Take the bike, get out of town. Ride it, sell it, don’t care. Good luck.”

“I don’t understand…” she looked at the keys and back to you. You shrugged.

“Seems like you need it.”

You walked back to the bar, the sun setting on the horizon.

***

Karga was able to find information on your quarry quickly and you’d been right, there was a low level bounty on him. Only 2,000 credits but he was already there and he decided he could use the entertainment. And he doubted you’d send him after a junk trader without reason. He must have done something.

Din put the kid in his pod after he fell asleep and locked the ship down before using the jet pack and flying to the location you gave him, skirting the outpost to not draw attention. He looked as he flew past, knowing you were down there, feeling closer to you than he had since you’d left the ship. Except maybe the few moments where he closed his eyes and pretended you were beside him instead of moaning over a com link.

The junk trader’s outfit was easy to spot, exactly as you’d described. You’d clearly been out here - he just couldn’t figure out why. It was small enough that he decided he didn’t need to take out any of the men in advance, he could just brute force his way in.

He landed in front of the men and drew his blaster.

“Hey, stop!” One of them started raising his rifle but Din shot him, dropping him where he stood. He turned his weapon to the other man.

“I’m not here for you,” he said. “You can run.”

The man’s eyes darted from the door to the Mandalorian before he took off, running into the desert, toward the outpost. Din holstered his weapon. That was easy.

“It didn’t make a difference,” a voice drifted outside. “She just stabbed him in the arm!”

Din shook his head. You’d definitely been here. He kicked in the door, four men standing around the desk. He found Kree quickly.

“Craner Kree,” he said. The man straightened up from his desk. “You owe someone money and they’ve put a price on your head. I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold.”

The men around him stiffened, turning to face the Mandalorian.

“I don’t hold any bounties on you,” he said to them. “You’re free to leave. This is the only time you’ll get that offer.”

The first man fired, the blaster bolt pinging off Din’s beskar. He sighed, pulling his blaster and shooting the man. He dropped. There was a hail of blaster fire then, Cree dropping behind his desk. Din took the men out one by one, their shots doing nothing but filling the small room with the ringing sound they made as they bounced off his armor. The last man standing tried to flee, skirting around the outside edge of the room, but Din shot him as he passed. He holstered his weapon and approached the desk.

“Warm or cold, the pay’s the same,” he said. “Choice is yours.”

The man straightened, a knife in his hand. He brought it swinging down but it did nothing but clang off the steel. The Mandalorian grabbed the man’s hand and twisted until he dropped the weapon, snapping his wrist with a shout of pain. The knife clattered to his desk and Din pushed the man facedown onto it, cuffing him.

“You’re lucky I’ve been bored,” he said, hauling him up by the collar and out the door. “Otherwise, you’d be dead.”

“Fuck you,” he snarled. Din just shoved him for the door, taking a speeder from the side of the building and flying back to the Crest.

He turned the com link on as he got closer, expecting to hear from you soon, and he was right, your voice appearing just as he was hauling Kree up the ramp.

“Mando?” You always asked. Like you were expecting him to just not answer you at some point. As if he could resist.

“Doll,” he replied. “Here with a friend of yours.”

“Have fun on the clean up crew?” You asked. You sounded amused.

Kree looked at the com link.

“That’s the Imp bitch who stole the boy!” He growled. That explained a bit more.

“Poor choice of words,” Din said, shoving the man to the ground before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him to the carbonite chamber.

“Went on a rescue mission?” Din asked as he hauled the man back to his feet and shoved him into the chamber. Kree was about to say something else when Din started the freeze, the man’s words turning into a scream.

“Woman came into the bar looking for someone to get her son back,” you replied. “Kree’d taken him, saying he’d stolen something from the wreck he’d claimed.”

“Surprised you didn’t kill him yourself,” he replied.

“Didn’t want to risk the kid,” you said. “Plus, his mom was willing to go into an Imp bar and insult the Empire. Don’t want combat with a wild card like that if you can help it.”

Din smiled, the carbonite done. He pulled the slab out of the machine and put it to the side. He missed hearing your thoughts. You rarely said something that wasn’t worth saying but you were happy to say what was on your mind. Your voice drifting through the ship as you talked to the kid or muttered to yourself or made some biting comment to the Mandalorian had been strangely absent since you’d gone to the outpost.

“Hopefully closing in on the end of this operation,” you said, almost like you’d read his mind.

“The inn not up to your high standards?” He teased, going to sit on the rock outside and look toward the outpost so he could be looking at you, even if he couldn’t see you.

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “No pre-Empire starship bunk, though. Or hold floor, for that matter.”

He laughed.

“I like your laugh,” you said quietly.

“I like yours, too,” he said, watching where the outpost was on the horizon. You were so close, just a few clicks. He could be next to you in just a few minutes.

“And here I thought every sound I made just annoyed you,” you said it like you were joking, but there was something in your voice that said you weren’t sure. He thought for a moment, considering teasing you or joking back. But honesty felt less dangerous when you were miles away, not there for him to touch and be consumed by.

“You’re one of my favorite sounds,” he said quietly. He kept watching the haze of the outpost in the distance. You were silent for a moment and he was worried he’d said too much.

“You’re one of mine, too,” you said softly. Then you laughed a little. “First time I heard you without the modulator, I thought ‘damn, I’d listen to this man read ship maintenance logs and thank him for the privilege.’” His heart swelled in his chest, remembering how you subtly tilted your ear toward him when you sat, turned away, when his helmet was off. “I like the modulated version too, for the record.”

You were both silent for a moment. He could hear you breathing. He wondered if you were sitting up or laying down, if you were dressed or just in a shirt to sleep, if your hair was still braided or if you’d let it down.

“How are you feeling about tomorrow?” He asked after a while.

“Fine,” you said. Then you sighed. “Din… I meant what I said the other night. If there’s even a chance of you or the kid getting hurt, you leave me here.”

His stomach dropped. He couldn’t tell if you were saying this out of an abundance of caution or because you were worried about the next day. He wouldn’t be able to just leave you here, that he knew. He’d kill everyone on this planet before he just left you here.

“I won’t take unnecessary risks with the kid,” he replied.

“Don’t take them with you, either,” you said. You pressed on before he had a chance to argue. “You’re that boy’s dad, Din. Whether you understand or know that yet or not, he needs you. No one else can be that for him. Don’t risk the kid’s dad, OK?”

“What are you afraid will happen, Doll?” He asked softly. “Tomorrow. What are you afraid of?”

“That you’ll do something stupid,” you replied.

“I mean with the plan,” he said. “You’re afraid of something, it’s something specific. What is it.”

You were silent for a moment. Then you sighed.

“There are too many variables,” you said. “I don’t have enough control here. We don’t even know for sure if the guy I’m meeting is Shadrin. What if it’s an Imp who knows me? What if there’s a whole fucking squadron of them? If I’m captured or overrun, I don’t want you coming in here on a suicide mission out of some sense of misplaced obligation.”

“Then get out,” he said. “I’ll come get you, right now. You don’t have to do this.”

“If the Imps are planning something, we have to stop it,” you said. “The plan is… It’s not ideal, but it’s the best we can hope for.”

“Doll…” he began but you cut him off.

“What if their plan involves the kid?” You said quietly. “They wanted him enough that they hired you. You said they need him for research. What if it’s for this and we could stop it, right here?” You were both silent for a moment. “We have to try, Din.”

“I’ll be ready to go tomorrow,” he said. “Say the word and I’ll get you out.”

“Can you do me a favor?” You said after a minute.

“Yes.”

“Tell the kid,” you took a deep breath, your voice catching. “Tell the kid I love him, OK?”

Din closed his eyes.

“He loves you, too.”

He wasn’t talking about the kid.

#fanfic #mandalorian fanfic #enemies to friends to lovers #the mandalorian #slow burn #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

92 notes · View notes

etherealbelphie · 1 year

Text

Avatar Of Envy (Ft. Leviathan and GN! MC)

Warnings: MC gets attacked by a demon, violence, panic attacks possessive behavior, also reminder that the brothers are demons too :), really I don't think anything in this fic is worse than season 1.

Length: 1.3k words

Genre: Hurt, angst, fluff, comfort

Summary: MC rejects Levi's help during a panic attack.

A/N: I'm not sure what's going on, but suddenly a ton of people have started to follow me...so...welcome :D! 500 followers is coming quickly, does anyone have any ideas for what I should do if I end up hitting that milestone?

As always, I've done my best to label all the warnings properly, but if there's anything I should add please don't hesitate to let me know! Enjoy the story!

-Ethereal (✿◡‿◡)

Story below, please don’t claim as your own!

It was kind of an unspoken rule that in the Devildom, you weren’t to be messed with.

If your pacts with the Seven Avatars of Sin weren’t enough of an indication, then your close ties with the angels, the most powerful sorcerer to exist and the royal family themselves certainly was.

That being said, just because it was a rule didn’t mean everyone was going to follow it.

You were minding your own business, walking to your Seductive Speech class when suddenly you ran into someone who you swear wasn’t there a second ago.

“Whoops, sorry,” you mumbled, ducking to step around them.

You crashed into the same person again. That time, you were sure it was deliberate. Confused, you looked up.

A demon with a much-too-wide smile was looking at you. “Where do you think you’re going, huh?”

You hesitated, drawing your books closer to your chest. “…Class?” You offered lamely.

They chuckled coldly. “Aw, leavin’ already? It’s almost lunch time, you know…” The demon licked their lips.

You shivered involuntarily, which only seemed to delight them more.

“Oh, come on, don’t you wanna-?”

You didn’t wait to see how this scenario played out.

You turned your heel and sprinted in the opposite direction. Half a beat later, you heard the demon start to give chase.

You willed yourself to move faster. Today was not the day you became demon food.

***

You’d been running so fast you hadn’t even noticed Levi standing there.

But he’d certainly noticed you.

More importantly, he’d noticed the demon hot on your heels with murderous intent.

With how timid Levi was, it was easy to forget that he was the third most powerful of all the demon brothers, which meant he was often overlooked.

That being said, you getting chased was an excellent reason to get his ass in gear.

Within seconds, Levi’s demon form had been unleashed, and he wasted no time running after the two of you.

It’s a good thing he’d noticed you, because by the time he’d caught up, the demon had cornered you in a deserted classroom.

You’d backed up to the furthest point, and the demon took their time slowly stalking towards you.

They were taunting you, Levi realized.

That final burst of rage was all it took for Levi to surge forward, forcing the pathetic excuse for a demon against the lockers.

He held them by their neck, glaring at them. “You know, you’ve got a lot of nerve…”

The demon gasped, shoving uselessly at Levi’s hand.

Levi held them in place a few seconds longer, then dropped them to the floor.

They gasped, falling to the ground.

Levi gave them a not-so-light nudge with his foot. “Get out of here. Now.”

The demon looked at him with something akin to gratitude, and he grinned at them in return.

“Go,” he repeated. “You’d better hope Lord Diavolo has mercy on you.”

At the mention of the prince, the demon was quick to scramble away.

Levi tsk’d. There was only so far that demon could get.

Forgetting about the other demon for the time being, he turned his full attention back to you.

You had dropped to the ground, curled up in a ball. Your breathing was coming much too fast, and your hands were squeezing at your arms.

Levi had seen this behavior many times in himself- You were having a panic attack.

Knowing you had anxiety and suffered from panic attacks was one thing, but actually seeing you fall apart like this was completely different.

What was he supposed to do?

Everyone coped with them differently, and needed different things to settle down.

What if he accidentally made things worse?!

He paused for a second, taking a breath. Freaking himself out wasn’t going to solve anything.

I don’t have to guess, he reminded himself. They’re right in front of me.

He walked over and crouched beside you, careful to move slowly so he didn’t startle you.

He called your name softly to get your attention.

Your breathing was still incredibly fast, but you seemed to be listening.

“Hey…is there anything you need?” He asked you.

Your response was almost instant. “C-Can you call one of your brothers, p-please?”

His demon form nearly made a second appearance at the sheer amount of envy he felt in that moment.

He swallowed, trying to bite back his rage. “…Well, I’m here,” he reminded you.

Your lip trembled, and your tone was on the verge of begging. “L-Levi, please? Mammon, or Asmo, Beel or Belphie, Satan…” you listed, trembling as another wave of anxiety hit you.

He really couldn’t help the glare he shot you as he robotically pulled out his D.D.D. He made a group chat with everyone you’d mentioned, shooting them a text.

Leviathan: I’m with them in the old Human Cooking classroom.

Leviathan: They’re asking for one of you, so one of you’d better get here ASAP.

He turned off his phone, staring daggers at the floor as he waited for one of those idiots to arrive.

You’d asked for one of them, after all.

You didn’t want his comfort.

The moment one of them arrived (he didn’t even bother to check who it was) he stood up, stomping out of the class.

He knew where he wasn’t wanted.

***

Later that day, you skipped down the hallway towards Levi’s door. You’d picked up a copy of a new game you knew he’d been wanting to try, but hadn’t been able to get his hands on yet.

You knocked three times. “The Second Lord-“

Suddenly the door was thrown open, nearly ripped off the hinges. A very angry looking Levi glared at you.

He was in his demon form, and his tail was whipping around behind him dangerously.

“…Levi?” You asked, backing up a few paces. “I…I wanted to see if you wanted to play a game?” You flinched as his tail shattered something. “Levi…you’re scaring me…”

“Yeah?” He spat. “Why don’t you get one of my brothers to make you feel better again, huh?” He crossed his arms, but his tail stopped whipping around behind him.

“Hang on…” you paused. “You’re upset about that? Don’t tell me you’re jealous-?”

Levi scoffed, looking away, and you mentally facepalmed.

You did not seriously just ask the Avatar of Envy if he was jealous.

“Levi, do you want to know why I didn’t want you to help me?” You asked.

He sighed. “Well clearly, it’s because you like all of my brothers better than you like me. Obviously, you wouldn’t want a lame yucky otaku to comfort you- “

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Dude. No. I didn’t want your help because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“…Huh?”

You blew out a sigh. “Yeah. When I’m wound up like that, I need physical contact from someone to ground me,” you explained. “If you noticed, I didn’t ask for Lucifer either because he isn’t one for PDA. I know that sort of thing is hard for you, so I didn’t want to bother you.”

Levi stared at you for a long moment with an unreadable expression.

Then suddenly he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in for a hug.

“Levi-?”

His words were muffled, but you managed to make them out. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

“Huh?”

He pulled away a little so you could hear him clearly. “I don’t mind if it’s you.”

You could see a faint blush on his cheeks.

“If you want hugs, just tell me…I won’t mind,” he repeated.

“Levi, you don’t have to pretend for my sake.”

The blush on his face increased.

“I…I…” he stuttered, looking at the floor. “I want you to come to me, okay?!” He exclaimed.

Seeing that he was being genuine, you smiled. “Okay, I will. In the meantime…” You held up the game you’d brought. “Wanna be my player 2?”

#obey me #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me levi x mc #obey me leviathan x mc #obey me mc #obey me main character #FINALLY IT'S BACK #this is the fic that got deleted twice and has haunted me for months #quick tumblr take this before my computer eats it again

113 notes · View notes

freesia-writes · 9 months

Text

Howzer + Aurelia Ch. 39 - Reunion

Even as a cocky young shiny, there were a few people who saw the integrity and depth beneath Howzer's facade. Aurelia was one of them, but life tore them apart. However, when they found themselves reunited on Ryloth, with drastically different circumstances, they have to learn anew how to navigate a changing world and their undeniable feelings for one another.

Master List of Chapters

Content/Trigger Warnings for Entire Work (individual chapter posts not labeled): wartime peril, injury, and death (chapters 12-14); pregnancy, birthing trauma, and infant loss (chapters 31-38); sexual assault up to kissing (chapter 19); relationship passion up to making out and heavy petting; sexual relationship alluded to but not described (no smut, sorry) ;)

Word Count: 2.1k

39. Reunion

Dreading each step, Aurelia walked slowly from the medical clinic to the hangar. Lennox had informed her during their lunch break that she was needed for a brief meeting, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her diminished usefulness over the last two weeks had finally warranted some action. After all, they couldn't support a freeloader with the already-stretched resources for the growing clone resistance. She'd have to start from scratch again. At least she would be let down kindly, knowing Chuchi.

"Hello, Aurelia!" came the bright voice from inside as she slipped inside the hangar. A couple of clones were working on an armor repair project atop some crates, and the main ship they used was noticeably missing. Riyo Chuchi approached with a warm smile, guards standing silently nearby. "Thank you so much for coming down. I hope you've been doing alright?"

"Yes, Senator... Thank you. I'm sorry that my contributions over the last two weeks haven't been--"

"Please, don't apologize. It's completely understandable," was her surprising response, emphasized by the earnestness on her face as Aurelia met her gaze. "I was wondering if you could return here later tonight? I'm sorry I didn't just send a holo, but I wanted to see you. 2100 hours should be good, if you can? I know that's late, but I promise it'll be worth your time."

"I'll be there," Aurelia confirmed, wondering what the Senator had in store.

* * *

Aurelia had fallen asleep early that afternoon, and she woke with a start. The chrono read 21:17, and a panicked flurry of preparation had her out the door within minutes. The trip to the hangar was fairly quick, but as she pushed the door open, it seemed darker than usual. She spotted Lennox across the room, chatting with Gregor, who was enjoying a hot beverage while resting on a crate. The faint sound of Chuchi's voice could be heard, and Aurelia paused, peering out from behind a long row of crates. She was bidding Echo farewell with a tender hand on his shoulder, nodding after him as he headed back toward the ship. Another clone stood beside her, wearing a plain inmate suit, and as Aurelia's eyes reached him, her heart skipped a beat.

Could it be?

The hair was the same. The posture. The movement. She found herself unable to move, frozen to the ground in disbelief. Chuchi said a few words and the clone nodded to her, then turned to move further into the hangar as she returned to her guards. The light struck his face, illuminating the curves and edges.

Howzer.

She couldn't believe it was real. He was alive. And here! In the time it took her to come to her senses, he was drawing near, passing Gregor and Lennox as he tossed a passing comment over his shoulder to the few others that were gathered there. Continuing on his way, he caught sight of her, and a myriad of emotions swirled all at once in his brown eyes, dark under the dim lights. He quickened his pace, purposeful and focused as he strode toward her, and she rushed to meet him, flinging her arms around his waist. He wrapped her in a tight embrace, resting his cheek against her head and stroking the back of her hair, holding her as though he couldn't get close enough.

"I can't believe you're here," Aurelia said softly, words muffled by his shoulder. He pulled back a few inches to cup her face instead, searching her eyes as though they held all the answers to life. The intensity in his gaze sent an electric shock through her body, and she relished his touch, leaning forward to press her forehead against his.

"I was thinking the same," Howzer murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

"It's like waking up from a dream," she whispered, drowning herself in the sense of him. He smelled slightly different, certainly affected by a day of travel and whatever else he had been through, but the sound of his voice, the feel of his strong back against her hands, and the sight of his eyes, overwhelmed with sentiment, washed over her with an inexpressible peace and joy.

Lennox had followed Howzer with his gaze, aware of the captain's name when he'd received the ship log and any medical needs that the crew would have. Watching him take Aurelia into his arms sent an ache through his chest, and he dropped his eyes to the cup in his hand.

"Ahh, bad luck there, mate," came the squeaky voice of the clone commando to his right, watching the whole exchange as well. "Although -- no offense -- can't say she's got bad taste in men!" Gregor giggled, apparently oblivious to the angst churning within the medic beside him.

"Hmm," Lennox offered feebly, a mirthless chuckle from a straight face. He felt happy for her, at least he told himself he did. It was all she'd wanted, and wasn't that true selflessness? Wanting the best for others? He nodded silently to himself. But was it what was best? All things considered? A deep sigh broke his silence, and he raised his eyes back to the two of them, still holding each other in the shadows of the crates. Aurelia was resting her head against his chest, her hand wrapped in his, held gently against his heart, and his lips were pressed to the top of her hair, eyes closed, savoring the moment as long as they could.

"Hey now... Don't tear yourself up, eh?" Gregor's unsolicited advice broke through Lennox's thoughts. His lilting voice brought a levity to his words, though they were insufficient to reach the medic's dejection.

"Yeah, you're right, Gregor," Lennox said halfheartedly, clearly somewhere else in his mind.

* * *

Aurelia couldn't let go of Howzer's hand as they made their way back to the clinic. Her mind was flooded with a million questions, a million things to tell him, and yet it was also silent, somehow fully present, soaking up every single second with a fervent desperation as though he could be ripped away from her again at a moment's notice. As the door to her little room slid open, Howzer lifted his eyebrows at the miniscule accommodations.

"I guess we'll have to maximize the space, eh?" he observed, and the provocative hint in his smooth voice sent a wave of tingles over Aurelia that she hadn't felt in months. "Listen," he said, turning to face her fully, and she basked in the fondness of his gaze, "We have a lot to catch up on. But I smell like a womp rat, and I'm sure you're tired..."

"I should be," Aurelia agreed, running a hand up the outside of his arm and bringing it to rest on his shoulder, "But I'm skeptical that I'll get anywhere near sleep anytime soon."

Howzer smiled, somewhat wistful at the overwhelming emotions still swirling about. "Well, give me a minute to get cleaned up, and then I'm yours." His words carried a weight heavier than either of them expected, and tears sprang unbidden to Aurelia's eyes. She lifted a hand to his face, caressing those scars that she'd come to know like the back of her hand. She traced a thumb across his cheekbone and felt as though she might explode. How was she ever supposed to let him go?

She didn't need to worry about that for now, though, and by the time she had changed into lounge clothes that fit gently on her soft, changed form and brushed her hair and teeth, Howzer was finished with his shower, standing in the doorway to the refresher with a towel around his waist. The sight made her heart skip a beat, and her mouth fell open slightly, feeling a heat flush throughout her entire body. He looked the same, except a bit more gaunt, and she wondered with a pang what he had been through over the last number of months.

"In my eagerness to leave, I seem to have forgotten the supply kit that Echo told me to grab on the way out... Got anything to wear that I'd look good in?"

Aurelia laughed, unable to believe his playful affection as though no time had passed. She shook her head, throwing her hands in the air in mock despair. "You're going to have to make do with my robe," she said, pointing to the hook outside the refresher door. Howzer pulled it on over his towel, smirking at the way it clung to his arms and shoulders, stretching tightly across his back. He struck a pose for a moment, earning another genuine giggle from Aurelia, who felt lighter than she had in a long time, and she opened her arms, inviting him to join her on the single bed pushed against the wall in the corner.

They entwined around each other, fitting together like puzzle pieces once again, acknowledging their slightly different shapes that had been sculpted by their very different paths. Aurelia's ear was pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, strong and steady, and she traced fingers lightly from his collarbone to his shoulder, down his arm, and up his stomach. He inhaled sharply, closing his eyes at the touch he had felt so starved for, and pulled her closer.

"You're gonna be in trouble if you keep that up," he murmured suggestively, eliciting another wave of electricity from her head to her toe. The recent pain of life had been held at bay by the utter shock of his arrival, but it came washing back over her, settling heavily into her stomach. She had to tell him.

"Howzer," she began, pulling her head back to face him. They gazed into each other's eyes, heads inches apart on a single pillow, and she took a deep breath before continuing. "I can't do that... for a little while... until I heal."

"Heal?" he said, furrowing his brow and propping himself up on an elbow, looking at her intently. "What do you mean?" His thoughts raced with a million possibilities, none of which were good, and he felt an immediate clamminess over the fierce protectiveness that blazed within. "Wait... you wanted to share something with me... I never got to hear..." he struggled to put pieces together, eyes rapidly flitting back and forth between hers with consternation.

"I was pregnant," Aurelia said, almost inaudible as her voice grew thick with emotion, "The day you left."

"No..." he breathed, eyes widening as he reached for her hand. "Oh... Reli..." he rumbled, getting a little hoarse himself, "I'm so sorry. What...?"

"He didn't make it," she interrupted, voice quavering as tears sparkled down her cheeks. She opened her mouth to explain more, but closed it again, squeezing her eyes shut with a minute shake of the head as the grief tore through her anew. Howzer was lost for words, jaw dropped slightly as he stared at her in speechless disbelief. He closed his mouth slowly, gripping her hand and pulling her against him again, shaking with silent sobs as she cried into his chest. After a moment, in a quiet pause, one word resurfaced again in his mind, stabbing him through the core as he uttered it aloud.

"...he?"

They held each other for hours, alternating between silent mourning, loving caresses, and whispered thoughts that jumped from topic to topic. Aurelia finally drifted off to sleep as the sun began to peek around the corners of the window shades, but Howzer remained awake, staring at the ceiling as he stroked her hair, over and over, agonizing over what she had been through... without him. The exhaustion was catching up to him as well, though he fought it, perhaps trying to punish himself for not being there for her. But he'd had his own nightmares and struggles during their time apart. He'd done the right thing, standing up against injustice and refusing to leave his brothers behind, though it had come at unspeakable cost. Only three of them had made it out alive, and Aurelia's news added further weight to his shoulders.

He breathed deeply, turning his head to watch her, unconscious and vulnerable next to him. He traced a finger down the side of her face, and she flinched reactively before comfort licking a few times and going still again. His heart felt as though it would burst through his chest, overcome with affection. Nothing was promised, and the immense fragility of life as well as the unpredictability of the tumultuous galaxy didn't offer much hope. But he pushed the fear aside, vowing that he would continue to do everything in his power protect those he loved and uphold any goodness still to be found.

Whatever the cost.

Feel free to tag a friend who loves Howzer or comment to be added to the tag list! <3

@mary-on-the-contrary @doublesunsets @523rdrebel

#the bad batch #tbb #the bad batch fanart #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #commander howzer #clone trooper howzer #tbb howzer #captain howzer #the bad batch howzer #howzer #howzer x oc

12 notes · View notes

jungkxook · 3 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

6K notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 3 years

Text

( this chapter’s gif by @ransomflanagan from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 5/?

summary: your plan goes to asbolute shit.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 9k, please pray for my fingers

a/n: there’s action, there’s gunshot wounds, there’s canon appropriate violence! this one has a lot of plot, a lot of action, and i truly want to sleep for seven days after writing this. you should listen to the glass cannon’s club playlist while you read, though, for vibez.

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

You do have a plan.

Maybe it’s a little vague, a little messy, and a little up-in-the-air, but it’s a plan.

Get in, find Kiwi, avoid a handful of unsavory characters, and access the Alexandria Library.

Getting the hell out The Glass Cannon once you and Bucky were in was going to be a whole different plan entirely — one that was more improv than anything else. Hopefully, running a quick facial recognition program wouldn’t take long. With any luck, it would get a hit on any more recent aliases Innessa Sidrova was using after parsing the motherload of information Kiwi held onto with her life.

Kiwi wasn’t always known as Kiwi. She worked at SHIELD, like you, and back then she was known as Suji Awal. She stuck around longer — and she’d stayed on board during the active collapse to do heaven-sent work. It was an absolute Hail Mary, but while HYDRA had tried to purge all of SHIELD’s cloud data to protect their active agents and decades of progress, Suji had beat the hare in the race. Two steps ahead, she’d managed to pull nearly 97% of all confidential data including mission reports, agent profiles, and even electronic correspondence. While the metaphorical fire burned the documents behind her, she’d managed to salvage one of the only surviving, comprehensive looks at SHIELD before the curtain was pulled back to reveal HYDRA’s infection.

It had been used to try multiple HYDRA agents in the wake of it all in the federal courts. It was significant evidence, but after nearly all was reaped from the crop, Suji had taken the aptly named Alexandria Library and gone underground. Now, Kiwi was just another hacker in the thick of it and the Alexandria files were all but whispers.

It’s all about knowing the right people in the end.

Kiwi was a regular at The Glass Cannon. There was a nine out of ten chance you’d find her there. And if you didn’t find Kiwi, you’d probably find Climber and… Well, going to him wasn’t the most ideal situation, but out of the menagerie of acquaintances you’d gathered up throughout the years, you could trust Climber. He’d send you Kiwi’s way if you finally called in that favor he owed you. Either way, you’d find her and you’d get the files.

You just needed to avoid Alexei Gardzov.

Easy. Ish.

In truth, you barely get anything done Thursday — you’re too preoccupied in your head, running over the so-called plan even now as you fold laundry in the basement of your apartment complex.

You’d dug around in your closet, trying to find some semblance of an outfit. It was difficult. It wasn’t like the barely-there dresses and platform shoes were your thing anymore. Back then, your diet was mostly energy drinks and alcohol — in a way, it’s a relief to find that a good number of your staple outfits no longer fit. It made you feel like you really had put all this behind you.

You have.

Sure, it was the Rabbit you were going to have to be for tonight, but you’re not the Rabbit you were eight years ago. Good thing, too. You’re not too sure you and Bucky would have gotten along otherwise. Right now, your relationship with him was the biggest thing keeping you afloat — for the first time in a long time, you feel like you have some sort of purpose, even if it was a vague one at best.

You knew Innessa Sidrova was a threat — and you knew Bucky had to remedy that threat. You knew he felt responsible for creating her, for planting her in a position of power where she could manipulate and control. In truth, there was still a lot of vagueness surrounding his past. He’d made it clear he hasn’t been himself for a long time, but you couldn’t bring yourself to wade through the muck of his trauma to pluck out your answers. It just felt wrong.

If you were to say you hadn’t been tempted to go out on your own and dig, that’d be a lie.

Even now, as you pull out the ink-black top from the dryer and fold it neatly on top of the other pieces of laundry needed for tonight, you can feel it sparking like a lighter in the back of your head.

He was keeping something from you.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You nearly jump six feet in the air.

It’s Miss Bonnie — and she’s laughing when her feet touch the cold concrete of the unfinished floor. Her basket of laundry is balanced neatly on her hip, and she walks with a smirk on her face. Her hair is piled neatly on top of her head, and as she bends to plop the basket down, she offers a wink.

“I could hear you thinking from upstairs,” she ruminates, paisley and dyed skirts kissing the ground, “Like a little steam engine.”

You laugh quietly into your task. You duck your head and heft a black bra and jeans from the dryer. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

She looks up, eyes moving carefully from the laundry pile to your face. Her eyes glimmer with quiet curiosity. “And a big night planned, huh?”

You snort. “What was the giveaway?”

“It’s always the lacey bras,” she chirps and slides a smirk your way as she waggles a finger at your pile, “And the strappy little bodysuit was a good hint, too.”

You exhale with a laugh, bracing a hand against the dryer. She’s not wrong — you’d really forgone comfort with this outfit lineup. It was temporary, though, and well worth the efforts if it meant helping Bucky tick off a name from his list of amends. You knew how much those meant to him.

“So,” she continues, voice muddled as she continues to load the washer, “I take it this friend of yours is really helping you out of your shell?”

“I guess so. Yeah. It’s — It’s sort of a mutual shell-cracking, I guess.”

“Mm,” a hum, “You sound troubled, though.”

Your mouth opens as your fingers trace the line of the bodysuit. You pause, and you rock back on your heels. Miss Bonnie notices.

She waits patiently, bent at the knees.

“You ever just…” you wave your hand, “Feel like — I don’t know. He’s my friend. My best friend, honestly, and that’s… Really saying a lot. But, there’s stuff under the surface and I know it’s not my business but…”

Out comes a strangled groan.

“What? Like a crazy ex-girlfriend?”

“No, no — I don’t think so,” you mutter, “Wouldn’t surprise me, though.”

“Handsome?” she asks, smiling.

You close your eyes and ignore the smile on your face as you reply. “Yea, handsome.”

“Well, have you tried asking?” she shrugs as she stands, “Not about the crazy ex, but about the stuff you’re worried about? It never hurts.”

“Problem is, I don’t really think it’s too much of my business.”

Miss Bonnie hums at that and presses the start on her washer. She’s quiet for a bit, swaying slightly as she weighs the conversation and you watch — enamored with the older woman’s calm wisdom. She gestures openly with ringed hands.

“I think it’s normal for us to want to know everything about those we care about,” she says, “We want to know how we can protect them, how we can comfort them. But… it comes in due time. All of it does. You’ll find a time when he does open up about the ex, or whatever it is on his mind. You’re friends, after all.”

You’re nodding, chest tight with thanks.

Miss Bonnie’s face is soft.

“You got a picture?” she chirps like a bird looking for a worm, “I wanna see who this little friend is. And if he really is as handsome as you’re suggesting...”

You scoff and lean to dig out your phone.

“Cut it out,” you mumble as she moves closer, “No playing matchmaker.”

“Sure, sure,” she waves, leaning to watch as you scroll through your camera roll.

The only photo you have of Bucky is there from Tuesday night — after he’d housed nearly an entire container of noodles and promptly passed out during the third Lord of the Rings movie. You’d woken up around one in the morning to find that Poke had unceremoniously curled up on top of the supersoldier’s chest. Bucky’s hand was still in the calico’s fur as he dozed, the colors of the TV painting his face all sorts of peaceful. You’d taken the photo, shoving it in his face after gently nudging him awake.

He’s laughed.

You gesture to show Miss Bonnie.

Like ice, she freezes.

You notice a microexpression dart across her face, but it’s gone in an instant. You can’t pin it, but the way she bends to pull the phone closer and zoom in on her face comes off as interest. You blink, label it as shock, and move on.

Her voice sounds different.

“Handsome,” she mumbles plainly, preoccupied with the sight, “I get it now. What’s his name?”

“Bucky,” you say as she hands the phone back, “He’s… He’s a good person.”

Miss Bonnie just nods.

You tuck your phone away and plop your laundry into your basket. Ignoring the sudden quiet that had crept between you both, you haul up the stack and offer her a gentle smile. She’s fiddling with the washer’s timer.

“Thank you, Miss Bonnie.”

“Of course,” she rushes out, smiling gently, “And be safe tonight.”

“I will.”

With your promise, you ascend the stairs.

In that basement, Bonnie McLayne is no more, and instead, Innessa Sidrova remembers that night in Moscow, back in 1975.

She remembers the Winter Soldier.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

Bucky calls you three times with no answer.

Normally, he’d just give up — but it was Thursday, and you weren’t answering the buzzer to your apartment either. He tries his best to ignore the strike of panic that sparks in his chest. It could stoke a wildfire, really, but he pushes it down and remembers to breathe. He doesn’t let himself think about what he’d do if something happened to you.

After all, you’re probably fine. Sleeping, maybe. The both of you had a long night ahead.

(Longer than either of you realize, really.)

It’s nearly seven o’clock, and after trying your cell one more time from his perch on your apartment’s stoop, Bucky decides to say fuck it.

A well-adjusted person might frown upon what he was about to do, but Bucky wasn’t exactly well-adjusted, now was he?

He rounds the back alley with long strides and easily finds that, with a little maneuvering, he can hoist himself upwards on top of the nearest dumpster. With a well-timed hop, he can also snag the bottom of the fire escape’s ladder and haul it downwards. The rest is easy, and he’s scaling the fire escape to the third floor with ease before he even knows it.

There’s even a smug little smirk on his face the whole time he does.

Finding your window is a little harder, but Bucky eventually spots Poke’s round little body smushed against the glass — it’s a dead giveaway, and after some prowling, he finds the window to your living room and unceremoniously throws it open.

It’s unlocked, for whatever reason, and he makes a mental note to have a conversation with you about safety and security in the city. After all, you never knew when an ex-assassin supersoldier was going to break in and pet your cat.

Upon opening the window, he pieces together pretty quickly why you’re not answering. Could be the music coming from your bedroom, or even the singing that’s coupled alongside it. From the bathroom across the hall from your room, steam has settled above on the ceiling. The whole apartment smells like fruit and soap and perfume and Bucky’s not really sure how to parse through all the sensory experiences that greet him with he shimmies in through the window, legs first.

All in all, they make him smile.

Bucky shuts the window behind him as he’s quickly greeted by Poke — the calico offers a gratuitous little chirp when Bucky bends to scoop up the cat. Easily, he melts. Poke is purring loudly in his ear as Bucky takes a moment to survey your apartment a little bit closer. Mr. Poke Bowl rubs his face against Bucky’s stubble as the man weaves through the kitchen.

It’s very you.

He isn’t really sure what that means at the end of the day, but all he knows is that he feels at home here. He feels safe. He feels comfortable. He feels like he can be himself. Not James, not Sergeant Barnes, not The Winter Soldier. Not even Steve’s Bucky, but just… his Bucky. Himself. Sarcastic and exhausted and a little cynical.

Bucky lets Poke down on the counter and moves to the fridge.

There’s still beer from the other night in there, tucked in the back, so he makes easy work on popping open a bottle and busying himself with petting a very adamant Poke.

As he sips the Leinenkugel, it’s no small coincidence that his phone buzzes again — for what feels like the hundredth time today — with a message from Janelle.

She was nice — pretty, too. Once upon a time, she would have been his type.

That was before he met you, though.

There’s a little pinprick of mortification at that quiet confession that’s been slipping into his heart more and more in the last few days. You are, after all, his best friend. He’s your best friend. Guilt swims with the feelings that have begun to pluck his heartstrings and he has to admit he’s not too comfortable with the song they play.

His biggest fear is fucking this up.

Fucking you up.

Honestly, his track record isn’t great. The whole defrosted-international-threat bit made it a little difficult to date. Janelle seemed to think the date had gone well enough, though, hence the handful of texts he’d been getting every few hours asking if he’s free.

Like usual, he ignores them.

Exercising his own free will is hard sometimes. Especially when it comes to saying no.

Taking another swig of the beer, Bucky shoves his phone back into his pocket and tucks his fingers back into Poke’s fur. The calico’s tail swings patiently as he sits and watches — and it’s a little weird how human his eyes are for a second there. He mmrrps and lunges for Bucky’s hand when he comes close, bonking his head eagerly against the cool vibranium.

It’s a different sensation.

That’s another big adjustment — learning how things really feel with this new arm. It’s not just handling recoil or gripping knives or throwing punches. It’s the soft tickle of fur, the gentle pressure of a warm rag to clean the joints. Meticulous upkeep wasn’t something HYDRA did often. He doesn’t miss the twinge of pain and molasses-like stickiness that came with a dirty arm. Blood was the worst. Always sat deep in the cracks.

He flexes his fingers. Poke meows again.

He moves to plop down on the couch. Poke follows.

You’re singing, still, to some song that Bucky’s never heard, when you push open your bedroom door and move towards the living room.

You jump six feet in the air and scream when you see him just sitting there, clutching a beer and petting Poke like he fucking lives here rent-free.

Bucky’s reaction is muted, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with your outfit and your jewelry and the pink eye shadow that creeps up your brow-bone. There’s glitter on your eyelids and lip gloss on your mouth and he can smell some sort of candy-sweet perfume coming off you. The plunging neckline of the jet-black top is enough to leave him shifting his gaze back up to your startled expression with a tight jaw.

His face is blank.

Then he offers that stupid fucking smile he does. Y’know, the tight-lipped one where he somehow maintains a dead-eyed look the whole time. If you weren’t trying to calm your racing heartbeat, you might have laughed. You hate the white-hot flare it sparks in your chest.

“How the fuck did you get in here?” you hiss, waving your hands.

“We need to have a serious conversation about locking our windows,” he says as he kicks his feet up on the coffee table and wags a finger at you, “Also, what are you wearing?”

“You — You fucking broke in through my window?”

“Yea, well, you were too busy pretending to be Britney Spears to hear me try and buzz up, and my phone calls.”

Sheepishly, you cross your arms. “Nice reference—”

A shrug from Bucky. “Thank you.”

“—Also, what are you wearing?”

He looks down at his usual t-shirt, leather jacket combo. He squints back up at you.

“I’m sorry,” he chirps, “You’re talking to me? Did the department store run out of fabric, Rabbit?”

You self-consciously adjust the plunging neckline of the bodysuit as you frown deeply. “I think I’m gonna skip on the fashion advice from the man who lived in a time where ankles were seen as scandalous.”

“I was born in 1917,” he mumbles as he stands, actively avoiding another pass over your outfit because as much as he hates to admit it, it’s not a bad look on you, “Not 1817.”

“Point being, we’re going to a club. And you look like you’re going to the local Home Depot,” you move to snag a set of dangly earrings that are sitting on the coffee table, “We’ve gotta look like we’re there to party, nothing more.”

Bucky sighs. He finishes the beer, places the bottle down and sheds his jacket. “So, what?”

You pry your eyes away from the flash of skin — his arm, flesh and blood, speaks to how strong he is. And, undoubtedly how easy it was for him to fucking scale three stories of the fire escape to bust in.

“So,” you mumble as you thread the earring in, “I have some of Jaimie’s old shirts. There’s probably something you can use… If they fit.”

Bucky exhales softly. “You kept them?”

“Didn’t have the heart to throw them out,” you reply as you gesture for him to follow you into your bedroom.

The back of your top is arguably more crisis-inducing than the front — it’s an open back, and Bucky settles on admiring the decor rather than the curve of your spine. He has to. For his own fucking self-composure.

Your bedroom is nice — and like the rest of your space, it makes him feel comfortable. It’s all warm colors and posters and plants in the corners. Across from your queen-sized bed, there’s a large desk with a triple monitor setup. That’s where the music is coming from. The little knick-knacks on your shelves and desk make him chuckle.

Then, he stops, halfway to the closet, and stares.

You blink over your shoulder as you bend, digging to the back of your closet to pull out the clear bin you’d piled most of Jaimie’s stuff into after the funeral. After you’d cleaned out his apartment on your own.

He’s looking at the poster — the one from Cap’s USO tour. It’s framed nicely, set up on the wall beside your desk. It’s got a gold frame, and Bucky can’t help but wander closer to look at the signature.

It’s Steve’s alright.

“How much did you pay for this?”

You scoff. Your necklaces tinker together. “Don’t even go there.”

“The jerk signed thousands of these,” he mumbles, crossing his arms as he leans closer, “And still, the fame didn’t go to his head.”

You smile softly, leaning back.

“Jealous?” you chirp, raising your brows as you pretend to swoon, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’d just love to meet your dear friend—”

Bucky’s laughing as you swat at his knee, leaning back on the carpet like a damsel in distress.

“Shut up,” he snorts, “It’s a sore subject for me.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m serious — do you know how many dates I had to set up for the chump? And then, boom. I’m invisible.”

“Yeah, well,” you mutter with a smile, unclicking the lid, “Some people just like blondes, Buck. I’m sure there were plenty of eyes on you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“Yea, the best friend, sure,” he mumbles at the poster, “Hell, he was taller than me. You know you don’t need to lie to me—”

“Listen, if I was some Lauren Bacall-looking nurse back then,” you wave your hands, “I’d have gone for you. Alright? Stop lamenting and get over here.”

He goes quiet and ignores the warmth in his cheeks. He squats by your side. “Shut up.”

“We seriously need to work on taking compliments,” you groan, throwing your head back, “I’m being serious, y’know, for once. And I’m not just saying it as your friend. You’re handsome and everyone knows it except you, apparently. My neighbor agrees that’s for sure.”

He squints.

You wave it off and gesture to your outfit. “She saw me doing laundry.”

“That explains nothing,” Bucky deadpans, “Literally nothing.”

“I showed her a picture,” you cry indignantly, moving to shuffle through some of the old t-shirts sitting on top of the bin, “Relax.”

He moves to plop down, crossing his legs beneath him. He decides to let the topic die — again, for his own self-composure more than anything. The compliment, though vehemently denied by the worst part of him, is tucked neatly in the homes of his heart. The idea of meeting you, before now, is a little intoxicating. What would it have been like?

Would you have even spared him a dance?

Bucky rubs his cheek. Poke meows and buts the door open with his head.

You’re wrist-deep in the bin when you speak. “He’s obsessed with you, y’know.”

Poke has already taken up a post in Bucky’s lap. Bucky smiles, petting Poke gently with his vibranium hand. The cat seems to like the cool metal. Bucky mumbles softly down to the calico, scritching his cheeks. “I like him, too.”

You pause long enough to try and remember the sight.

Bucky’s eyes find yours, and you’re quick to turn back to the bin.

“Here we go,” you exhale as you pull out the shirt you’d been looking for.

It’s a long-sleeve button-down, one that you can distinctly remember Jaimie wearing to his engagement party’s after-party — a real typical night of Jaimie being Jaimie. It’s black with a barely-there red floral pattern. It’s flashy enough that Bucky won’t look horribly out of place.

The only problem is Jaimie was a little smaller than Bucky.

“Try this on,” you mumble as you dig around trying to find something else in case it doesn’t do the trick.

Bucky catches the silk shirt and gives it a once over. He raises an eyebrow, and deciding against debating this, he simply nudges Poke off his lap and stands.

He moves to your bed, laying the shirt out. On your closet door is a full-length mirror. You want to snap it in half when you accidentally catch a glimpse of Bucky hauling off his black, cotton t-shirt and anxiously fumbling with the buttons on Jaimie’s old shirt. You have to breathe — and remind yourself that that’s Bucky.

Your Bucky. Your best friend Bucky.

When he calls your name, it sounds far away. You’re busy angrily sorting through old clothes.

“I look ridiculous.”

When you turn around, the first thing you notice is that it’s a little tight. Not in a bad way, but the buttons are gapping along his chest, and it’s tight around his arms.

Your eyes widen a little and you swallow. You tilt your head.

Bucky’s frowning.

“Let me see,” you offer gently, standing and moving close, “It’s not that bad.”

“You don’t sound too sure right now,” he mumbles as you enter his personal space.

You’re nimble with undoing the top three buttons — it gives him enough room to move his shoulders, though, and the dip of the shirt along his sternum brings dog tags into view. You reach, momentarily entranced, and read them to yourself.

You smell like vanilla and sugar.

Bucky shifts in his boots.

“Y’know,” you say, moving to the sleeves, “I think this works.”

You roll the sleeves, stopping at his forearm.

When you step aside, Bucky can see himself in the full-length mirror. He looks less than enthused.

It’s not an entirely bad look — he’ll admit that much — but he doesn’t look like himself. No, there’s too much chest and skin and… Christ, this shirt is tight. He does, though, look like some of those trendy folks he sees at Izzy’s bar every now and again. Hipsters.

“I look like a douchebag.”

“That’s the point,” you chirp as you close the box and shove it back into your closet, “Now the outfit matches the personality.”

He swats at your head on the way by. You laugh.

You’ve got boots in your hand, and you land on the bed with a bounce. Bucky is busy fixing his hair in the mirror while you zip up the thigh-high boots. When he turns around, you’re about three inches taller. He blinks, yet again entranced by the outfit.

Then, you’re muscling on the jacket.

It’s neon pink — and shaggy and cropped. It falls just above your waist and swallows you whole. But, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the back.

There’s a large, white embroidered Playboy bunny there, with RABBIT written across the shoulders in a chunky, blackletter typeface.

His brows are high on his face when you turn around.

You freeze.

“...What?” you ask, “Something on my face?”

“Playboy bunny, huh?”

You could smack him. “Weren’t you busy being a frozen dinner when Playboy came out?”

“I’ll have you know,” he says tightly as he follows you out of your bedroom and to the living room, “The Russians enjoyed their fair share of editions.”

“The Russians? Sure, what’s that saying? There’s no sex in the USSR?” you chide, “You can just say Bucky Barnesenjoyed his fair share—”

The tips of his ears are red. You notice. It makes you split into a grin that worsens the pink shade that’s crawling up his neck.

He coughs. “Have you ever considered never opening your mouth again, Rabbit?”

You nudge his arm. “Nah. Bothering you is more fun.”

He shrugs on his jacket, sighs, and decides that keeping quiet is just easier.

However, that’s not entirely your plan — and you speak quickly as you pull your purse over your shoulder. You’re rummaging quietly, stacking your wallet and phone inside. You glance up at him.

“You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he mumbles, bending to pat Poke one last time as you move to the door of your bedroom. He watches you flick all the lights off, and before you leave, you double check the calico’s food and water. He’s got enough for a few days. Bucky leans against the door frame, “Care to run me through the plan?”

Nodding, you move to open your front door.

“It’ll be easy,” you explain as you make room for him, “If we play our cards right—”

Bucky’s stopped, though, and is digging in his back pocket as his cell phone rings. You watch him exhale tightly, eyes on the screen the entire time he squeezes by you and starts down the hall. You make careful note of the delicate scowl on his face, only before you catch Miss Bonnie out of the corner of her eye.

Her door is half-cracked across the hall, and she’s watching.

She offers you a smile.

Bucky keeps walking.

You wave, lock your door, and jog to catch up to Bucky.

“Hey,” you call, “Earth to Mr. Claw Machine?”

His head snaps up. “Sorry.”

“Who was that?” you ask carefully, nudging his arm with yours, “Falcon?”

“I wish,” he mutters as he muscles the cellphone back into his pocket, “I wouldn’t feel so bad sending him to voicemail.”

“Yeesh,” you wince, “Lemme guess, was it the owner of the coral lipstick that was all over your face on Tuesday night?”

Again, that temptation to feel jealousy flares up in your heart. But, he’s here, isn’t he? With you. Ignoring her calls. And probably texts judging by the guilty look that’s on his face. You feel a little bad — but at the same time, Bucky’s a grown man. Maybe a grown man who needs to create some more transparent lines of communication with the poor woman, but still.

“Bingo. I mean — it’s not that she wasn’t great an’ all but…”

You raise both hands. “I’m not judging.”

He sighs raggedly as he bounces down the apartment’s stairs. “I don’t think I’m ready for that.”

“What?” you ask with a laugh, “Dating? Yea, it’s pretty fucking terrifying, Buck.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

You hold the door open for him and slide him a pitying look.

“Because I am.”

The walk to The Glass Cannon is spent walking Bucky through the plan — and for the most part, he makes a point of nodding along and listening. His only real anxiety pops up at the mention of Alexei, which is relatable to say the least.

It’s dark, the streets are relatively quiet, and the spring chill has pricked your skin. Your heels click against the pavement, and you stalk along. Shoving your hands in your pockets of the pink, shag jacket, you huff.

You’re starting to feel the anxiety.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re both approaching the blue glow of the storefront.

Computers & Stuff was a family-owned and operated computer shop from the 90s that was taken over by a lesser-known hand of the Russian crime family in New York, the Gardzovs. Alexei’s father is the formal owner of the shop, and his son runs the lucrative activities of the underground club that lay beneath the graphics cards and motherboards.

Bucky, as you both near the entrance, speaks quickly. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just follow my lead, okay?” you whisper.

The bell above the door dings when you pull open the glass door.

The lighting is sterile and if you’re real quiet, you can hear the dull hum of the fluorescents. The store is empty, save for one man behind the register.

You almost duck out the entrance at the sight of him.

Igor has been a bouncer at The Glass Cannon for as long as you’ve been a patron — and he’s also one of Alexei’s dogs. This part of the plan was something you’d considered only briefly, and for a second, you’re thankful you worried over the million and ten ways this would play out for days.

“Well, if it isn’t the little bunny.”

It’s said with malice. Igor’s tattooed hands land on the counter as he leans.

You, however, hold your head high. Bucky watches as something changes in your posture.

“Good to see you, Igor.”

“Is it?” he growls, stalking around the counter and quickly encroaching on your personal space, “Because I’m pretty sure you’re not welcome here, bunny.”

Bucky gets a good look at the man now — clearly an enforcer. He’s got prison tattoos, a shaved head. The long beard is a weak spot. Doesn’t seem to be armed. Blue eyes flick to you and the way you don’t even flinch when the man leans to breathe right in your face.

You just smile.

“I thought you’d say that,” you mumble, moving to swing your bag to the front and dig your wallet out, “But, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Suddenly, there’s a hundred-dollar bill slipping from your well-manicured nails into the vest pocket of the bouncer. There’s a tense pause, then, while the two of you size one another up.

“Fucking your way through college paid off, huh?” he hisses.

You stay quiet.

Bucky, though, moves between you both with a quick shove. Immediately, Igor’s attention goes to Bucky as he sizes him up — he laughs. His nose is nearly touching Bucky’s.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy?”

“You should watch your mouth,” Bucky says evenly, “Or I’ll cut your fucking tongue out.”

You’re careful to hide your expression; the feeling the words stir isn’t one that you’re happy about. This sudden protectiveness, though, makes you feel some sort of invincible.

Igor settles back on his heels.

He steps back.

He gestures to the back room with his head.

You keep walking when he calls out: “Careful, bunny, the dogs are going to be looking for you.”

You grit your teeth tightly and push through the fabric curtain.

He barks, taunting you.

Bucky is by your side in an instant, gaze still rooted over his shoulder at the hulking bouncer. He waits until you’ve settled down until you’ve said his name. His eyes fall to you, then to the stairwell before them.

Above it, in curled neon tubing, reads The Glass Cannon.

The windows are blacked out, but from his spot at the top of the stairs, Bucky can feel the rattle of a deep bass vibrate his ribs.

“Come on. We’re on a time crunch now.”

“Alexei?”

You nod as you lead the way down the stairs. “Word travels fast. We need to be quicker. Stick to the crowds. Remember, we just need to find Kiwi — then we bail.”

Bucky nods tensely.

Then, you open the doors.

Immediately, his eyes adjust to the darkness — neon and strobes and the pulse of purple and pink LEDs make his vision swim. It’s warmer down here, and the stairs leading down into the sub-basement is lined with people sipping drinks and chattering over the loud music. It smells like piss and beer and tobacco.

Again, Bucky watches as the person he knows melts away.

The Rabbit in front of him is different.

You reach, as if on reflex, for his hand.

When you turn around and flash him a smile, he has to swallow down a sudden rise of sheepishness.

The sea of people part around you, and Bucky realizes quickly that people recognize you. He can see their painted lips moving, muttering things into curious ears about the pink-clad woman in front of him; there are smiles there and frowns, and shock. You’re slow in your descent, making a show of the arrival — all while Bucky begins to piece together that The Glass Cannon is larger than he originally suspected.

As they near the bottom of the landing, he can see out across the floor.

There’s a square-shaped catwalk around the dance floor, laden with dancers on their designated poles. Tables line the outside of the cavernous room, and the bars along each wall are crowded — even still, these glimpses of his surroundings come in temporary flashes of light. The music coming from the center of the dancefloor is loud. The entirety of the scene is raucous.

He can’t imagine you finding solace here.

He tightens his grip on your hand. You squeeze back.

When both of you reach the bottom of the stairwell, the sea of people swallow you in a current of dancing and drinking and laughing, and you crawl into Bucky’s personal space to shout in his ear.

You’re still holding his hand tightly, pressed to his chest, as you lean upwards to brush your cheek with his.

“Follow me, okay?”

He nods.

You begin the methodical crawl through the dancefloor, working your way to the bar — there, you pause long enough to be served a drink that’s as pink as the glitter on your eyelids. The flecks dance in the lights, and Bucky graciously accepts a shot from the bartender who smiles sweetly like honey at you.

You bat your lashes, thank her, and stand gracefully from the barstool.

You take a pointed swig and scan the floor.

Kiwi would be in one of the private booths, you suspect — she was enough of a high roller here. But, with the crowded club bursting at the seams, it was nearly impossible to get to the other side. You sway a bit on your feet, still tightly gripping Bucky’s hand in your own. You refuse to let go.

For your sake and his.

Bucky is a silent shadow, eyes roaming the club — he watches a dancer dip down low and snag a green bill from a patron. Someone beside him laughs loud, another bumping into his backside as you continue to weave to the outer rim of the room. The music is so loud his heartbeat could be mistaken for an 808, and he feels the thrum in his bones.

If he wasn’t so overwhelmed, if he was drunk, maybe it could be fun.

Finally, out of the haze of bodies, Bucky can breathe.

You’re leaning over again, speaking quickly.

“I don’t see her.”

“I can’t see shit in here,” he calls back, eyes moving along the ridge of the room. He scans the booths set into the walls, set up on platforms, and roped off with velveteen, “Where would she be?”

“Hard to tell,” you mumble, “But I think I might need to go to Plan B.”

Bucky follows your solid stare.

In the booth directly across the floor from you, there’s a man in black — black everything, save from his hair. That’s the brightest blue Bucky has ever seen. He’s swallowed by a harem of men and women who are laughing and drinking and dancing, and he’s entertaining. Ringed fingers wave in the air, face split into a laugh so wide he swears it’s a mile long. He’s got glasses on and they’re tinted blue.

Bucky watches carefully as you move to his booth.

It’s like a prey surveying a trap — you’re careful.

Finally, when you stand before it, you let go of his hand.

“Hi there, Climber.”

The whole booth falls silent. The man stiffens, back turned to you totally. Bucky watches as his hands fall and slowly, the man you’d called Climber turns around.

His expression is stone cold.

His voice, however, is as warm as a hot poker.

“Oh my goodness, is that Rabbit?”

He ascends from the booth, platform boots leaving him to tower over you — he’s no small man, either. Bucky watches as he bends to kiss both of your cheeks and hug you tightly. He, however, doesn’t pull away entirely.

“What the fuck are you doing here,” he hisses, “You want to be roadkill?”

“I need to find Kiwi,” you whisper quickly, expression almost begging, “Please.”

He pauses, dimpled chin wavering a bit. Bucky watches him sniff, push his glasses back, and readjust his posture. Climber licks his lips and his eyes dart to Bucky. He’s thinking, Bucky realizes, and after a quick moment of deliberation, he seems to cave.

“Only because I owe you.”

“I know,” you say, raising your hands, “I know.”

In a dash, his demeanor changes once more. He’s flying over to his harem, waving his hands and blowing kisses and promising he’ll be back in a flash. They whine, they moan, but Climber appeases them with another round of jello shots from strobing syringes that a waitress is carrying by.

“Come on then,” he says, “And stop looking like such a prude.”

He begins to weave.

You follow hand returning to its spot in Bucky’s like a lifeline.

You’re sipping your drink, moving through the crowd easily. There’s a slight sway in your step now, and at one point you and Climber even get noticed by a pod of people who recognize your faces. It’s met with laughing and squealing and in the fray, the both of you slip back into the crowd. Bucky is taking it all in, desperately ignoring the tingle of a panic flaring in the back of his head.

Too many people.

Soon, though, Climber is moving towards a side entrance.

It’s a back room.

Suddenly, the dim lights and neon dissolve, and instead, Bucky is flashed in the face with the abrasive sting of fluorescent lights. It no longer reeks of spilled beer, and his boots don’t stick to the ground. No, there’s quiet chatter back here — Climber continues to lead the two of you through a maze of supply crates full of booze and soda.

Then, a right turn. And a left turn.

Someone is taking inventory.

“Kiwi, I know you’re going to hate me for this—”

The woman who turns around is beautiful. She’s in the midst of eyeing an open crate that looks just like the others but fitted with a hollowed center, marking off what looks like an inventory of burner cell phones. Her brown skin is decorated with glitter, her eyes streaked with the same green shade of her tightly shaved head. The green is bright and it reminds Bucky of summer.

Suddenly, her expression sours.

“What the fuck.”

“I know—”

“No,” she snaps, raising her hand and waving to the assistant beside her to take her tablet and make themselves scarce, “You need to get out of here.”

“I need your help,” you say finally, tone heavy.

It’s enough to make Climber sigh. Kiwi watches you, scratches her neck, and swallows.

She meets Climber’s eyes.

Then she breaks.

“Where the fuck have you been, Rabbit?” she asks, worries seeping into her eyes as she pulls you into a rough hug, “We thought you were dead.”

“No,” you shake your head, “But you know I couldn’t be around here anymore.”

“Yea,” Climber snorts, “Not good for your health, huh, love?”

“Alexei still wants your head,” Kiwi chimes in, crossing her arms, “Does he know you’re here?”

“Igor was on the door, so I’m sure he’s heard by now.”

Both of them curse.

Guilt flashes across your face as you screw your eyes shut and nod. “I know. I know, I just… I seriously need your help, Kiwi. It was worth the risk. It’s — HYDRA. I need to tap into the Alexandria Library.”

Immediately, the woman stiffens.

Her eyes flash to Bucky in the corner. He stares back.

“He waits outside.”

“You can trust him—”

“No,” she snaps, “I can’t. And I don’t. And I won’t.”

You give Bucky a pleading look. Between the two of you, a negotiation happens between your eyes. It’s a compromise, and finally, Bucky relents.

“Fine,” Bucky barks, tilting his head and giving you a tight-lipped smile, “Fine. I’ll wait out here.”

“He’s cute,” mumbles Climber as Bucky rounds the corner, long legs carrying him out of the supply room, “Boyfriend?”

“Shut up, Climber,” you mumble, waving your hand, “Just listen—”

“Who is he?” Kiwi asks, eyes still watching the doorway, “And why did you bring him along?”

You sigh, rubbing your brow. “He’s the one who’s trying to find this HYDRA agent. He knew her before.”

“So he’s HYDRA.”

“No,” you snap cooly, “He’s not.”

“So, just handsome, then?” Climber asks, hands waving, “Right. Great. Really making a case for yourself, Rabbit.”

“He’s trying to find a woman named Innessa Sidrova. She was one of the original agents who helped form the American HYDRA cell,” you explain quickly, “I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and… And he’s a good person. He’s my friend. I’m trying to help him, but I can’t do it without you. Both of you.”

Kiwi hums. She sighs. “That explains why you went MIA.”

“Aside from putting Alexei behind bars?” you scoff, “Yea, the GRC played a part in it.”

The three of you are quiet for a moment.

“Fine.”

You look up at Kiwi. Her hands are on her waist.

There’s an immense wash of relief that floods over you at that moment — and from the looks of it, Kiwi can tell. You move to grab her hand, and she grabs back. Both of you smile, and the hug that follows is warm. You’ve missed her. A lot.

“Thank you, Suji.”

Then, footsteps.

That relief is traded in for an anxious backfire of fear in an instant.

It’s slow. Dress shoes on polished cement.

Then:

“Oh, bunny, bunny, bunny. Tsk, tsk.”

Climber and Kiwi’s faces upturn to the doorway and they tell you everything you need to know.

So, you decide at that moment that you won’t be the prey tonight.

You turn around and come face-to-face with a man playing devil.

Alexei Gardzov is a handsome man — a beard and piercing grey eyes. His hair is tightly cropped, and intricate tattoos decorate every inch of his skin. Some of them are new, you realize, and there’s temporary pride that bubbles up at them. They’re from prison.

You almost smile.

Behind him, three goons loom.

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come hopping back,” he croons as he enters the room with the swagger of a man who trapped his dinner, “Well worth the wait, I think.”

His cologne hangs like smog in the air. He strolls up to you, and in a flash, he’s got your hair in a vice grip.

He yanks it back, you grit your teeth.

The barrel of a gun digs into your cheek.

“Climber, Kiwi, and Rabbit,” he sing-songs, “All in one room again like it’s NYU’s 2014 hack-a-thon. Isn’t that cute?”

Kiwi speaks. “Alexei—”

“Shut up,” he snaps, gun moving to flash towards Kiwi, “And stay out of my business, Sujina.”

The gun’s muzzle is cold. He’s rough, and you try to ignore the twinge of pain that comes with his unceremonious yank of your hair. Once more, he tsks. His breath is hot on your face. He smells like cigarettes and whiskey.

“I spent seven years behind bars,” he bites, “All because a’ you.”

“Me? I wasn’t the one trafficking girls—”

“SHUT UP!”

The pistol cracks across your cheek and the cement floor hurtles towards you. The gasp that falls from your lips is from shock; your fingers dig into the cold ground as you try to blink away the blurriness. Your ears ring. Blood drips from your cheek between your fingers.

Again, there’s a hand in your hair.

Now, the fight begins.

Climber and Kiwi are stuck, frozen in fear.

You don’t blame them, because Igor and the others have guns already drawn. One of them, one that’s young and you don’t recognize immediately, has a baseball bat in his hands.

Alexei drags you by your hair as you grimace, refusing to scream. Your heels scrape against the ground as you try to get purchase, but he’s quick to throw you back against the far wall.

“Don’t worry, Bunny,” he smiles, “I won’t kill you. Not right now.”

Then, a kick.

Right to the ribs.

You can’t breathe — you gasp earnestly at the white, hot shot of pain.

“Get up.”

You’re not listening, you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

“I said,” comes a growl as he reaches, hand in your hair again as he drags you up the wall. Your legs buckle, and you try to hold your chin high as you stumble upwards, “Get up.”

Then, there’s a hand around your throat.

Tight. Too tight. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t get his hand off your neck, can’t breathe, can’t breathe, can’t fucking think, can’t stand, can’t see, can’t breathe —

“Boss!”

A new voice.

The pressure is relieved for a second.

A new face has run into the room — he looks frazzled, hair askew and gun out. He’s eyeing the scene before him in a moment’s pause.

“Can’t you see I’m a little bit busy?” Alexei snags as you gasp, clawing at his hand. He swings his head to the figure in the doorway with an annoyed bark, “What is it?”

“The cops, boss,” he stammers, “They’re here.”

“What?”

“They’re here for her, boss.”

A slow turn to where his finger is pointing. His gaze lands on you. Alexei laughs.

“Well,” he says as the goon disappears, “Isn’t that just peachy, bunny?”

The choking starts again.

Then, a metal hand.

Vibranium.

You watch it swing, you watch it grab Alexei’s throat.

Suddenly, you can breathe.

Suddenly, Bucky Barnes enters the fight.

You make friends with the ground again as you duck, just as Alexei is rammed into the wall above your head by his throat. As you cough while Kiwi calls your name — you can hear a fight. But everything’s moving slow, and it’s not until the first gunshot that you’re kicked into action. It’s loud. Your skin pricks alive.

Someone screams.

You stumble to your feet, eyes finding Bucky’s form moving quickly between the three goons — the gunshot had come from the pistol that had somehow found its way into Bucky's flesh and blood hand. One of the men is on the floor, suit pants stained with a bullet wound through the thigh. He’s wailing. Bucky doesn’t notice. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe both.

His face is cold.

Another gunshot is fired off, this time richoting between you and Kiwi and Climber and embedding itself into the cement wall overhead. The three of you scream, ducking reflexively.

That’s when Bucky snaps.

“Now would be a good time to go!”

Kiwi’s hands are on your arm as you quickly break through the doorway through the storage room. Climber is following, checking over his shoulder at the carnage that Bucky begins to reap in the room.

He’s hysterical, trying to jog in his white platform boots. “What the fuck, Rabbit!”

Your voice is hoarse. You’re clutching your ribs. “Not now, Climber!”

“I’m parked in the back,” Kiwi says, ducking through plastic flaps as she helps you through the back of the club, “Come on, we’ll go through the trucking entrance.”

You hear Bucky call your name — he’s jogging to catch up, gun drawn in his hand. Seems like he made good work of the others, sporting nothing more than a split lip. You turn, pausing for a moment to take inventory of his well-being.

And that’s all it takes.

Alexei Gardzov, limping, steps in front of you and Kiwi and Climber at an intersection in the hallway.

There’s a gun in his hand.

The first thing you feel is the impact.

Like a truck slamming into you at full speed. For the fourth time tonight, you have the air robbed from your lungs. It’s instant confusion.

Then comes the pain. Hot. Hotter than the sun. Hot like white flames. It tears through your shoulder and all you can do is gasp; you’re sent into a stutter step — and while the world around you continues to move, you’re busy reconciling with the fact you’ve just been shot.

A bullet flies by your head.

Alexei Gardzov drops.

You’re grasping at your chest, staggering, when Bucky breaks into a sprint — but you’re okay. You’re okay, it’s just your shoulder, it’s just your arm, you’re okay, you can feel your fingers and you can breathe and the pain is nearly unbearable but you’re okay.

Then, a baseball bat.

It clocks Bucky directly in the skull. He’s clotheslined.

It’s Igor.

The gun from Bucky’s hands clatters across the ground to your feet, and you’re too busy trying to get to Bucky to realize — but, you’ve got tunnel vision and adrenaline and at that moment, you think a good sidekick doesn’t need anything else in this life.

Igor goes to swing at you, but you duck. Your stiletto crushes through the top of his shoe. He screams and in a flurry of pain and panic, you manage to snag the bat quick enough to turn and clock him under the chin with a roll of the wrist.

His teeth clack together and he falls backward, unconscious.

“God, I really wish you could have seen that, Buck.”

You spit. Blood paints the ground.

The bat clatters to the cement as you fight through the pain. Kiwi and Climber are by your side in an instant.

“No, no!” she screams, “We do not have time for this—”

“I am not leaving him,” you snap, nearly screaming at the woman, “Come on and help me with him. Now.”

After a sigh of resignation, Kiwi shoves the gun she’d snagged from the ground into the back of her jeans. You’ve got your hands around Bucky’s ankles as Kiwi and Climber take his torso — and the four of you make a break for the back entrance. You can hear the cops outside now, and there’s the chatter of Russian following you into the back parking lot.

“Hurry up!”

“He’s not exactly light as a feather, you know!”

“Shut up, Climber!”

You’ve got Bucky halfway into the back seat of Kiwi’s white Cadillac when another bullet whizzes by your head.

“Fuck.”

Kiwi hops into the driver’s seat as Climber scatters to hop the hood and throws himself into the passenger's seat. You lean, clinging to the door of the backseat as Kiwi peels out of the parking lot. It swings wide open and you curse loudly. You can see Alexei’s men watching from the back entrance, shouting in Russian — so you muster all your strength to pull back and throw the door closed as Kiwi’s car bounces over a speed bump and rams through the parking meter’s gate.

In the rear window, the front of the club is surrounded.

Red and blue lights illuminate the street — but Kiwi is quick.

No one follows.

And when she finally makes it to the Manhattan Bridge, you exhale.

Bucky’s head is in your lap. He still hasn’t come to — there’s blood coming from his nose and you’re worrying. You lace your fingers into his thick, brown hair and chew your lip.

Kiwi’s voice pulls you from him.

“When were you going to mention the vibranium arm, huh?”

You laugh. It’s more of a breath of air than anything. Your head rests back against the seat. Your shoulder is still on fire. You’re hot, but cold. You’re bleeding still. Your ribs aren’t right. You know that.

“I can’t believe he shot you,” Climber mumbles, “He fucking shot you.”

“And your boy toy shot him,” Kiwi says, sparing you a look in the rearview, “So you better pray he’s dead.”

You ignore the commentary.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safe,” she says, accelerating into Manhattan, “Where I can get you those files and you can keep your head down.”

Sounds like a plan.

Better than the one you had, anyways.

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #bucky x you #BOY OH BOY THE FORMATTING I WANNA SCREAM

984 notes · View notes

selfawarejester · 3 years

Note

Hey can u please do a teen wolf imagine set in season 2 where she is either Scott or stiles sister and she is sneaking around with isaac (they kinda had a thing before he got the bite and after isaac got more confident so he made a move)and isaac sneaks into her room at night and instead of Allison it’s is y/n that Matt was stalking and taking pictures of and obsessed with and he had pictures of her and isaac kissing and stuff and maybe he leaves the pictures in her locker and it freaks her out and you decide the rest. (Sorry it’s a bit dark)

Oh, I love me some Isaac!!! Forgive me if I get some details wrong, it’s been a while since I saw s2. And I’m gonna make you Scotty boi’s sister, because Melissa 🥰

You weren’t the dating type, much to the relief of your mother and your brother - and for some reason, Stiles, but you preferred to pretend that you didn’t know that. - which is why it was such a shock when you drag Isaac Lahey of all people to sit with them during lunch one day.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N-“ Isaac tires to say, shooting the boys a wary look, but you just shush him and shove him into a seat. You brightly grin at the shocked faces Scott and Stiles before confessing that you’d been dating Isaac for a while now.

Scott freezes for a full thirty seconds.

Stiles chokes on his hashbrowns, and almost dies in that same time period.

“Da- you’re dating him?” He splutters, pointing at a smirking Isaac. “You’re dating him? Oh my god, what the- Scott, say something.”

Stiles gives you a look that says ‘you’re gonna get it now’ which slowly slides off when Scott just keeps quiet, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Wha- Scott, say something.” He grits out, and you roll your eyes, tired of their dramatics.

“All right, enough! Seriously, people are staring.”

That gets Scott moving again, as he looks around to find that people are, indeed, staring. He’s still shocked because when did you start dating?? But now he’s asking questions like when did you two start dating? Why did you keep it a secret so long?

He always knew you kind of had a thing for him: all the flirty banter, and the lovelorn glances…

You and Isaac started up two months ago, you explain, but it’s been pretty low-key so that he can hide it from his dad. (You don’t outwardly say this, exchanging a specific look, but both you and Scott have been pretty sure something was going very wrong in the Lahey household — Scott had smelt blood and fear wafting off of Isaac way too often for it not to be.) So he kinda just?? Accepts it??

He’s concerned, duh, but you’re so happy and he doesn’t want to get in the way of that. But he sternly tells Isaac he’ll kick his ass if he hurts you. Isaac, to his credit, stifles his laughter and genuinely tells him that he’d rather die than hurt you; and that’s good enough for Scotty.

Of course, all of this changes when Isaac becomes a beta.

He does it for you. He wants to be able to protect you, to love you without fear of losing you or getting you in trouble. Derek’s assured him that your protection is a priority of the pack, because even in his slightly power-greedy Alpha state, Derek wouldn’t let what happened to him and Paige happen to his beta.

Stiles and Scott hover around you throughout the whole time Isaac is suspected of murdering his father. Sheriff Stilinski tried to kick them out during your questioning, but they squeezed onto the small couch in his office and just stared at him the whole time. You were shocked and scared and obviously didn’t know anything, so he sent you home pretty quick.

Melissa’s freaked out because 1) you lied to her?? 2) you’re dating now 3) and it’s a boy suspected of murder. So, yeah, maybe she’s questioning her parenting a bit, but she’s really trying to be supportive.

Scott corners Isaac at school (Stiles is there too, naturally) after the whole ice rink thing, without Erica or Derek, and he swears he’d never hurt you. Unfortunately, you walk in right at that moment.

You know when both of them are lying, so you force the truth of them, then and there. You get thrown off guard, of course — they thought you’d react like Stiles, or just like most of the people in those movies react: with a lot of surprise but general and immediate acceptance.

You do immediately do something: leave and avoid both of them for the next couple of days. Your mom’s curious as to why you’re so distant, and why Scott keeps begging you to talk to him, and why you’re avoiding him -- but ultimately, she lets sleeping dogs lie, because she hopes you’ll come to her with something really important.

You hang out with Lydia and Allison a lot more, Allison backing up for Scott by keeping you safe — she tries to defend him for you, but you make it clear you need a lot of time before you can think about that stuff. She also tries to turn you against Isaac, but you’re even more closed off to that.

Lydia is a fresh breath of air, because she is just as confused about this (even if it’s only possibilities and vague stuff) and she doesn’t wanna know more either. She keeps things light between you and Allison, and keeps your mind off of things. But it doesn’t work when Allison and the others drag you guys to your house for a weird “study session” that gets crashed by a giant lizard thing- god, this was your life now.

Isaac grabbed you, and locked you in a bathroom before the whole thing really started. You scream at him to stop, scream for Scott, and beat on his chest, but he just screws his eyes shut and forces you in there — he knows you’ll hate him afterwards, but he also knows you might run straight at the Kanima if it came for him or Scott.

You do hate him afterwards. A little part of you understands why he did it, and it’s unfortunately the same part that still loves him. But you’re still hugely pissed off, especially after Scott and Stiles tell you that he tried to kill Lydia. So the next day, when he tries to talk to you at school, you glare at him until he goes away.

In swoops Matt, all “charming” smiles and “funny” jokes. He sees his chance: months of watching you and Isaac be all cutesy had paid off. He knew what kind of humor you liked — unfortunately, all it did was remind you of your boyfriend and keep you guys at a distance.

God, he hated it. Bad enough that someone was keeping you from him, but that it was Lahey. The brother of the guy that drowned him, the son of the guy that screamed in his face about how it was his fault- no. He had to break you up.

So he consolidated all the pictures that he’d taken of you: candids of you at school, at home, at the coffee place you liked. He slips them into your locker, and watches you squirm and look around. It’s working. Then, it’s those pictures of you and Isaac, kissing at your secret spot, necking in your bedroom, smiling at each other — labels it “Remember the good times?”

You’re trying to talk about it to Scott, Allison and Stiles, but they’re busy with the Kanima. Lydia tries to help, but she’s so out of it and she has been for a while and you’re starting to get worried.

It gets to a point where you run to Isaac, tears in your eyes, and photographs in your hands. “Is this you?” You sob, and he just pulls you into his arms shushing you - “No! No, babe, I’d never do that!” - and promises to keep you safe. You stay glued to his side after that. Boyd is nice and calm, a contrast to Derek who creeps you out a little.

Through his first full moon, you stay with him and keep him grounded. Your voice keeps his father’s out of his head, keeps him in control.

You’re standing off in a corner, watching with a smirk as Erica - who you’ve gotten weirdly close to in the past few weeks - and Isaac double team Jackson (it’s actually… kinda hot? Especially because damn Isaac keeps looking at you); but your view gets obstructed by Matt. He’s trying to talk to you but you barely listen, keeping eye contact with Isaac over his shoulder. Then they leave with Jackson, and Matt makes a move on you. You flinch away so hard, you hit the counter and get the bartender’s attention.

You confront him about the pictures and he splutters for an excuse. The bartender kicks out Matt, seeing your distress, who’s now more desperate for your attention than ever.

Matt - or the Kanima- kidnaps you during Lydia’s party and keeps you in his basement. You’re scared out of your mind, begging for him to let you go, but he promises you that there won’t be anyone in your ways from now on. While everyone’s dealing with the fiasco at the police station, Isaac, Boyd and Erica come get you.

He’s trying not to cry when he sees your busted lip, the bruises around your wrists where you were tied down.

Boyd and Erica decided to leave, but Isaac didn’t want to leave you behind. So he goes to Scott and Deaton, and becomes a good guy, helps out with Jackson and everything!

He also starts living with you guys, which you’re very excited about ;) But Melissa is very careful about leaving you two alone. And Scott’s stupid senses screw you over in that he interrupts every time you get to more than kissing.

But you find ways. 😉😏😏

Hope you liked it! I think I changed a few things, and I tried to keep the canon timelines for everything, but yeah!

#isaac lahey #isaac lahey x reader #scott mccall #stiles stilinski #scott mccall x reader #stiles stilinski x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf imagines #isaac lahey imagines #gabiwrites

362 notes · View notes

priortoallthoughts · 3 years

Text

Don’t Mess With the Commander’s Caf

(or do, because it’s gotten you this far)

Rating: T

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Commander Fox x afab!reader

Warnings: Mild swearing; gets a bit spicy at the end but nothing explicit.

Summary: What is supposed to be a night out at 79s turns into a night in the drunk tank, and the morning starts a startling new relationship with a certain Coruscant Guard Commander. All over a cup of caf.

// [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

Masterlist

A night out in Coruscant is never complete for you without going to the clone bar, 79s. You may pre-game somewhere else, but you always end up there, recognizable as one of their regulars. You love the atmosphere, honestly. It’s so jovial, just vode – and weren’t you surprised when you found out that clones spoke a different language with each other – coming to forget the war for a night. Living life as much as they could. You’ve picked up a few words of theirs purely because you hear them so often. Many a curse word too, which are your favorites.

And they were about to be put to good use.

You’re already buzzed and walking with a group of grey-clad troopers that had pulled you into their group when they saw you walking alone. You chat easily with them even though you never met them before. That’s the funny thing about being sociable when you’re sober – you’re even more chatty when you drink. And giggly apparently, considering you couldn’t stop laughing at the mission gone wonky they were telling you about.

When 79s came into view your smile widens. There really is nothing like the neon lights and bass you can already hear resonating from inside. Were there probably millions of places just like in on Coruscant already? Sure. But there isn’t anywhere aside from 79s you could find this kind of ambiance.

There is one downside that pisses you off like no other though.

There’s yelling coming from over by the speeder-way and when you look over, another civilian is getting in the face of a Coruscant guard member. The frown the graces your face feels wrong after laughing so much, but you can’t help it. You pause in your tracks. Usually when you see this kinda shit it deescalates fairly quickly, but this civilian is getting louder and more violent the more the (admittedly nervous acting) guard tried to calm him down.

“Hey.” A hand lands on your shoulder and you look up to see one of your group. “We can’t do anything. The punishment would be too harsh and that civvie chakaar won’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

Your frown turns into a snarl. “You can’t do anything.”

Fishing your flask out of your jacket pocket you take a swig before shoving it into the chest of the closest trooper. The steady click of your heels is the only thing you can hear over the growing volume of yelling.

“Hey! Shabuir in the stupid shirt!” Your own yell interrupts.

You have exactly one second to reconsider things before you think about all the vitriol this jackass is spewing at the guard for nothing. The sound of your fist hitting his face is the most satisfying thing you’ve heard tonight, along with the yelp he lets out when he hits the ground.

“What the kriff is your problem, bitch?!”

“You talking shit about this trooper is my problem!”

He turns towards the guard again and the trooper flinches. “I want her arrested for battery!”

You lean down to grab his collar and shake him out. “Oh, so now you want him to do his job? The one you were just belittling him for? Can’t have it both ways, chakaar!”

“Let go of me!”

You drop him so suddenly that his head cracks against the ground. He scrambles to his feet and points a finger at you. “You’ll regret this! They’re nothing but meat-droids!”

“Say that again, you little pissant. I dare you.” You go to take a step forward but he’s already running away. A hand on your shoulder again makes you look over to the one you defended.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” And he does sound sorry. “I will have to take you in tonight. I… can’t ignore you attacking someone right in front of me.”

You smile at him. “No problem, trooper. Do your job; I don’t want you getting in trouble.” You offer your wrists to him and next thing you know they’re in a pair of binders behind your back and you’re being placed in the back of a speeder.

“A night in the drunk tank should sort you out.”

The smile you give him is blinding, because not only do you know that’s not the proper booking for what you just did, at least you look cute while you’re being taken away.

---

When you wake up in your cell (lucky you’re the only one there) you’re beyond tired and in desperate need of some caf. You can’t function without it in the morning.

There’s a guard member who lets you out not long after you get up. You follow him like a zombie. Presumably he’s leading you out of all the twisting hallways, but you stop short when your nose picks up the distinct smell of caf.

But not just any caf. You know the smell of Death Wish anywhere.

Your favorite.

You follow your nose to a mess hall – sparsely populated but still enough that everyone stops what they’re doing to look at you as you make your way to the caf machines in the back. You’re basically falling asleep as you walk so you don’t notice. Maybe you should care, considering you’re still wearing your clubbing outfit from last night, but no, you don’t actually care.

When you get there you see two different machines. One is labeled with some cheap, generic caf name and the other is simply “Fox’s Starfighter Fuel.”

You grab a flimsi cup and fill it with the second one. No cream. No sugar.

No life, only caf.

You finally notice how deathly quite it is as you take your first sip and turn around. There’s one trooper standing in front of you, helmet tucked under his arm, and the most severe look you’ve ever seen before gracing his features. You look him over with half-lidded eyes, noticing he’s dressed differently than the others, and casually take another sip of caf.

“You must be Fox.”

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this part of the building, who let you in here?”

Still waiting for the caf to kick in, you shrug. “Spent the night in the tank. No one stopped me when I walked in.”

Fox turns to glare at everyone sitting at the tables. They all look down at their food like they weren’t obviously watching and someone starts whistling.

“You need to leave,” he says when he turns back around.

“Can I finish my caf first?” You ask, taking more sips hoping to stall.

He glowers even more. “That’s not even your caf!”

“Shame.” You chug the rest of the still mostly full cup and coughs wrack your chest when you finish. “I think I just burned my esophagus,” you rasp.

“Get out.”

“That’s completely fair.”

You toss your cup in the trash on the way out. Turning the way you were going before you got distracted, you make your way to the exit; no need to bring the wrath of Fox down on you for sticking around. You feel like, once again, you get off light and dont’t want to press your luck. The smile that graces your face as you step outside is probably a strange thing for anyone else to see considering you’re walking out of jail, but you had a good night, and the morning is shaping up to follow suit.

---

The next day you walk into the caf shop you normally stop at on the way to work. The barista behind the counter waves as you walk up. “Your usual, hun?”

“You know me,” you smile brightly, “but, uh, can you make it two?”

Her eyes widen. “I can’t imagine the morning you’re expecting to have!”

You laugh and wave her off. “Nothing bad. I owe someone a cup.”

“You mean someone else drinks this sludge?”

“Imagine my surprise. And it’s not that bad!”

She places two large flimsi cups in front of you. Your hands rub together nervously before you get your thoughts together. “Can I borrow your marker?”

She hands it to you with a raised eyebrow and you quickly scribble a few words on one of the cups. It isn’t a lot, and it completely gives away who you are without having to sign your name, so you hope it’s okay.

“Thanks, gotta run!” You scurry out of the door before the barista can ask anything about what you’re doing.

You aren’t even sure yourself if you were being completely honest. The Coruscant Guard building is a little out of your way from your route to work, but you leave early in the mornings anyway, so you can still make it in time even with the detour. You feel a bit nervous walking in this time. Where did all your confidence from yesterday go?

You flag down the first trooper you see that doesn’t look busy.

“Can you give this to Fox, please?” You hold out the cup for him to take.

He doesn’t.

He only stands there, and you imagine he’s making a face behind his helmet because he doesn’t say anything either.

After a few seconds of silence you lower the cup awkwardly. “Uhh, oh, sorry, am I allowed to bring caf?”

“Why are you bringing the Commander caf?” He finally asks.

You squeeze the cups so much the tops almost pops off. “Fox is a commander?”

“Commander Fox is head of the Coruscant Guard, ma’am.”

The top of your own cup does pop off this time, but nothing spills.

“The entire guard?” You squeak.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Heat is quick to crawl up your face. “Oh stars, I can’t believe I took his caf.” Your internal panic is quickly becoming external as you try not to drop either cup. You hid your face behind one in embarrassment.

“Wait.” The guard member tilts his head. “You’re the one they were talking about yesterday? The girl from the mess hall?”

There’s a few second where nothing but incomprehensible noises come out of your mouth, but you finally get out, “how many people know about that?!”

“It’s made its way around.”

“I’m gonna - kriff - go throw myself off the senate building I swear-“

You’re cut off by the sound of a chuckle and you snap your head up to see the guard member’s shoulders shaking. “So you’re not trying to poison the Commander, huh?”

“No!” You yelp, but quiet down after you see others turn to look at you. “I was just trying to repay the caf I drank! We like the same kind!”

“That’s disgusting.”

“Can you please just give this to him before I die of embarrassment? You’re killing me here!”

He laughs again and finally takes the cup from your shaking hands. “Who should I say it’s from?”

You slap a hand over your face to hide your grimace. “At this point I’d rather not tell you. I want to keep some of my dignity intact,” you mutter.

“Nobody’s dignity is intact here, ma’am.”

“Oh… joy.”

“You best be on your way then.”

He is giving you an out and you’re taking it in full.

“Have a good day,” you say as you turn, the only proof you’ve been there being one guard member and a note on a flimsi cup.

“Sorry for taking your caf yesterday.”

---

One week later you find yourself standing outside of the caf shop, once again with two cups in hand through no fault of your own. It makes you think that maybe another trip to the Coruscant Guard building wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Why waste a perfectly good drink after all?

You pause immediately when you step through the door, because the man you’re looking for is standing across the room talking to someone with a datapad in hand. The decision on whether to interrupt is made for you when the person he’s talking to looks over and spots you.

He waves and Fox finally looks over as well, tilting his head as he does so. You take a deep breath before walking over to them.

“Caf girl!”

You raised your eyebrow at the other trooper. “I really am known around here for that, aren’t I?” You say as you stop in front of them. You have a sneaking suspicion that he is the same one you talked to last week.

“Well you never gave me your name,” he shrugs.

Yeah, it’s him.

Your head snaps to Fox, however, when he addresses you.

“You know my name?”

“Your information was processed and put into the system when you spent the night in the tank.”

“Osik,” you mutter.

“Did you need something?” He asks.

You perk up some, and hold out the second drink in your hand. “Right, there was a mixup at the caf shop, and I got an extra drink. I thought you might like it.”

He takes it carefully, but your bare fingers still brush against his gloved ones. They tingle when you pull away, and while the heat on your palm from holding the hot cup fades, the heat in your fingertips does not. You have the sudden urge to find out what holding his hand feels like, but you push that thought down along with the blush you can feel rising. Now isn’t the time. You have to get to work. Maybe if you come by earlier next time….. would there be a next time?

“Thank you. I… appreciate the thought.” You think you hear him trip over his words, but there’s no way.

You smile brightly at him. “You’re welcome!” You check the time on your chrono. “Looks like I gotta bounce. Enjoy your caf, Commander!”

Your retreat is quick, but hells if you don’t add a little extra sway to your hips as you walk out the doors.

And scribbled on the cup now in Fox’s hand is:

“I know day old caf when I taste it. Fresh is better.”

---

You start to bring Fox caf every week.

“This has become part of my routine, so I hope you don’t mind.”

Every week turns into every few days.

“Your filing system is horrifying but at least your chair is comfy.”

Every few days turns into every day.

“Tell Thorn that if he sees me at 79s tonight, he can’t arrest me just so I’ll hang out with him.”

And leaving early just to see Fox is the best part of your day no matter what. You hope you’re not the only one who feels like this. That maybe as you walk to the Guard building in the morning, you’re not the only one smiling and counting down the minutes until you get to Fox’s office. He never turns you away, and he’s always there to take the extra caf from your hands if he can be. Sometimes you have to leave it on his desk if he’s not in, but you understand that his job isn’t easy by any stretch of the word.

He is in this morning, however, seeing as the door opens promptly at your knock. He sits behind his desk, a few data pads already stacked next to him and a frown marring his face. That won’t do.

“Credit for your thoughts?” You say as you set his caf down next to his helmet and lean against his desk.

Fox looks up and gives you a tired smile, unaware of how it makes your stomach flutter. “Shaping up to be a long day.”

“Giving yourself more grey hairs already?” You say, giving a pointed look to his already greying sides.

“Like I need any more,” he huffs.

“I dunno,” you reach up and run your fingers lightly through his short curls, “I think they make you look distinguished.”

He lets out a breath you didn’t know he had been holding. “At least one of us thinks so.”

“It’s okay, I can like it enough for the both of us.”

“Should I count myself lucky then?” He smirks, finally taking a sip of his caf and sighing contently into the cup.

You give him a cheeky grin. “You should.”

He looks at you then, not saying anything, and you can’t help the flush you feel crawling up your face. You swear, you had never blushed so much around anyone before you met him. You distract yourself by drinking your own caf, the liquid welcome to your suddenly dry mouth.

“I do.”

“What?” Your head snaps back up to him and he’s still looking at you, but not in a way you’ve seen before.

“I do count myself lucky.”

You look away shyly, a small smile forming at the corners of your mouth. Sure, you two have been lightly flirting with each other, or at at least you’re definitely flirting with him, but this is the most straight-forward thing he’s ever said to you.

“It’s a good thing I got myself arrested that night then, isn’t it?”

It’s uncharted territory, where this conversation is heading. The thought of what it could be sits low in your belly and causes you to let out a shakey breath.

“It’s quite the holovid to watch,” he says offhandedly.

You’re lucky you aren’t drinking your caf, otherwise you would have spit it everywhere. You turn your head so hard you think you give yourself whiplash, mouth agape, looking at him in wide-eyed mortification.

“There’s a holo of that?!” The pitch of your voice would be embarrassing if you weren’t in the middle of spontaneously combusting on the inside.

He nods empathetically, which is shit because you know for damn sure he’s not empathetic about it; he’s having too much fun with this. You know he is, with that stupid, heart-stopping smirk playing on his face.

“Our HUDs record each incident for our files to make sure everything matches up with the reports.”

“Nooooooooooooo,” you whine quietly into your hands that now cover your face. You hear him get up and move to stand in front of you, but you don’t react. Mainly because you have no idea what he’s doing, but also he’s so kriffing close you can barely handle it.

His pries your hands from your face and presses them to his desk, effectively caging you in. He’s even closer now, and you’re hyper aware of how hard your heart is pounding even though you stop breathing. It’s the last thing from threatening, but you’re still frozen.

He leans in so his mouth is right next to your ear. “You look good in that little red dress of yours,” he whispers, his voice octaves lower than before. “Especially when you’re beating the kark out of a civvie – standing up for my vod.” It sends a pleasurable shiver down your spine and straight to your ovaries.

You suck in a breath when he pulls away. This is much more than you could have expected. “You’re not giving me much incentive to not be arrested again,” you tilt your head, “now that I know you’d be watching.”

“Always watching you, cyare.”

You hum, pulling one hand away from his to run up his armor and trace lightly over his jaw. “Gonna have to try harder to get a pair of binders on me next time, then.”

“Would you run?”

“Only if you’re the one chasing me.”

You move your hand from his jaw to the back of his neck and scratch lightly, feeling more than seeing him shiver under your fingertips.

“I’d find you.”

“Oh, I’d be counting on it, Commander.”

It’s a mutual surge that leads you two to lean in, culminating in the most charged kiss you’ve ever received. You throw your other hand around his neck, holding him as close as you can, while his hands latch onto your hips, pulling you up and into his embrace. He leads you back until he’s sitting in his chair and the next thing you know you’re falling into his lap to straddle him. You break for air, and to process that yes, this is happening, before you’re kissing again. A little slower; a little deeper.

You moan quietly into his mouth, and his hands move to your ass so he can pull you even closer.

There’s a chime from your chrono and you pull away, panting.

Fox’s eyes are dark and hungry when he looks at you. “You have to go soon.”

You nod, not breaking eye contact, and not moving either.

He grins, and it looks absolutely predatory. He slides the top of your blouse down slowly, just enough for his mouth to latch on to you right above your collarbone. You let out another breathy moan, and his teeth graze your skin in response as he sucks harder. His tongue soothes the area over when he lets go, and he looks at the quickly darkening spot with what you can only assume is possessive pride.

“For you to remember,” he says huskily.

Knowing he’s just staked his claim on you stokes the fire inside you even more. You give him your own feral grin, and pull down the collar of his blacks as he stiffens. “Who am I to allow you to forget, then?”

You suck hard at the column of his throat, higher than he did on you, knowing it would still be covered. You taste the sweat that had been building up, and his skin which you can’t even describe except that it tastes like him.

He groans lowly into your ear and you shiver when you pull away. You drag your nail lightly over the dark bruise in satisfaction before pulling his collar back up.

You slide off his armored thighs slowly. He follows you to stand, and gives you one last, long, kiss.

“Until next time, cyare.”

When you leave his office, you wish you had written something more on his cup than a crudely drawn fox with a smiley face next to it. Tomorrow though, you wonder what you can get away with saying.

“Next time I’m wearing that little red dress, feel free to search me. Who knows what I could be hiding.”

#prior writes #star wars #swtcw #clone wars #the clone wars #commander fox #cc 1010 #commander fox x reader #commander fox x you #afab!reader #coruscant guard #writing #fanfic

341 notes · View notes

deanstead · 3 years

Text

Stalked

Pairing: Kelly Severide x Reader

Requested by anon: Could I get 13 and 19 on the prompt list, please! Kelly x reader where the reader is a bartender at Molly’s and ends up with a stalker. Maybe a sprinkle of Jay helping out, too.

Warnings: mentions of stalking, anxiety, mild cursing

A/N: Prompts were meant for drabbles but…. It became too long to be labelled as a drabble so tagging this as a one-shot but I used the prompts! Just felt there needed to be a bit of a build-up for a stalker backstory. Hope you like it! Would also love to hear what you think!

---

You had been getting the feeling that you were being followed for the past few weeks.

There were just a few moments in your day when you felt that you were being watched. It started off at Molly’s when you were pulling your bartending shift, the hairs on the back of your neck had stood but you couldn’t pinpoint it in a crowded bar.

Yet during the past few weeks, it had progressively gotten more frequent. You hadn’t told anyone about it yet because there was nothing to tell. There wasn’t a stranger you saw frequently. Molly’s was usually full of firefighters from 51 or police officers and detectives from 21, or even the medical staff from Med. But no one jumped out at you so you didn’t mention anything to anyone.

You felt it again as you walked the short distance from Molly’s to your apartment building after finishing your shift but you shook it off. Maybe you were too tired.

You jogged up the stairs, squinting when you noticed a package sitting in front of your door.

You smiled. Kelly must have left something for you. You turned, looking up and down the empty corridor. The only thing that smelt a little funky was that Kelly usually left a note or stuck around.

You flipped open the box, frowning at the contents.

What the hell was this?

You stood in front of your door, picking up the stack of photos inside the box. Photos of you – laughing at Molly’s, at the store, at the pharmacy, photos through the window of this very apartment. Photos that you were now sure weren’t from Kelly.

The box dropped to the ground with a clang, the photos slipping from your fingers and scattering onto the floor. You took a shaky step backwards.

You didn’t even realise your hands were shaking until you fumbled with the clasp on your bag to try to call Kelly.

There were just two rings before he answered. “Hello?”

You swallowed, trying to steady your voice before speaking.

“Y/N?” Kelly’s voice again.

“Kelly…” You failed at keeping your voice steady, your voice breaking a little as you called out his name.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Kelly had picked up on your shaky voice immediately.

“Kelly… something… someone…” Your brain was fogging up.

You could hear Kelly moving around. “Where are you?” When you didn’t respond immediately, Kelly pressed again. “Y/N, where are you?”

“Outside my apartment.” You finally found the words.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right there, okay? Stay there.” Kelly instructed before he hung up.

---

You weren’t sure how long it was you had been there. Once the line had gone dead, you had sunk to the floor, drawing your knees close to your chest, your head down. The box was lying open in front of you, the photographs scattered around. You only looked up again when you heard footsteps, followed closely by Kelly’s voice.

“Y/N!” Kelly called, making a beeline for you.

“You okay?” He demanded. You nodded your head but looped your arms around Kelly, pushing your face into his chest.

You felt Kelly reach over to hold you before you heard a third person’s voice. “Let me clear the house.”

You hadn’t even noticed that Jay was with Kelly.

“Kelly, we’re good.” Jay nodded, tossing your keys back to Kelly. You hadn’t even noticed that Kelly had taken them from you.

“Come on.” Kelly helped you up and guided you inside, Jay following close behind. Before long, Kelly was pushing a hot cup of tea into your hands as Jay pored over the box.

“No promises but I’ll try to pull security footage, maybe we can even dust for prints.” Jay said, glancing over at Kelly.

“Thanks for coming over with me.” Kelly said, getting up.

“Don’t sweat it, Kelly.” Jay smiled.

You looked up. “Thanks Jay.” You smiled.

“You hang in there, okay? I’ll do what I can.” Jay called, waving as he left.

“I can stay here tonight.” Kelly said, as the door closed behind Jay. You didn’t say anything but reached for his hand and he smiled, kissing the back of your hand.

---

It had been a month and a half since the box had shown up on your door and then nothing.

The best Jay could come up with was that it was a white guy in his thirties, wearing a hoodie and baseball cap. The cameras caught nothing and there were no prints they could match him to.

“Everything’s been okay, though?” Jay asked, as you slid him his drink.

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s been quiet.”

Jay nodded. “Hey, you know if you need anything…”

You smiled, “Thanks Jay. Drink’s on me.”

He smiled, raising his glass in thanks as you wandered off to restock the supplies.

By the time you had finished tidying storage, Molly’s was almost empty, save for a few more people from 51. “Hey Y/N, you can take off early. There’s not much to do, I can handle it.” Herrmann called as you walked out.

“You sure?” You asked, scanning the room. “We’re not exactly closed yet.”

Herrmann smiled. “Yeah, go on.”

“Thanks Herrmann!” You called, going for your bag.

You dialled Kelly’s number but it went straight to voicemail. It still wasn’t late, technically Herrmann was letting you finish shift early. You sent Kelly a quick text to meet you straight at your apartment and calling out byes, slipped out the back door.

You were halfway to your apartment when your phone rang.

“Y/N, I told you I’d pick you up.” Kelly said, the moment you picked up the phone.

You sighed, “Kelly, I’m almost home. I’m just around the corner, I just…” You were cut off midsentence by someone grabbing you and you gave a short yelp before you dropped your phone and got pulled into the adjacent alley.

---

Kelly sighed as he heard you justify why you had left the bar early. He knew this was coming, he just didn’t expect it to be this soon. You had always been feisty and independent, so he knew you’d start to let your guard down soon.

“I’m just around the corner, I just…” There was a pause before you gave a short yelp.

“Y/N!” Kelly called but the line had already gone dead.

Fuck.

Kelly fumbled with his keypad as he ran down the street. “Jay, I think she’s in trouble, one street over from Molly’s. I need your help.”

Kelly pumped his legs, pushing himself faster down the street. It had always seemed like a short street when he had walked you home but now it didn’t feel so short.

---

You had the breath knocked out of you as you were thrown against the concrete wall in the alley, your head hitting the wall with a clang, stars dancing in front of your vision.

“Now, no one can tear us apart.” A voice drawled in your ear. You could feel someone hovering above you, his hot breath tickling your ear, as his hand found your neck.

You could feel the bile rise in your throat. You had no idea who this person was, or what they wanted. All you knew for sure was that he was the owner of that creepy box you had received and he was way too close to you.

You had a scream stuck in your throat and you struggled to get it out. You needed to get it out or Kelly would never be able to find you.

“Hey!”

You sank to the ground as you felt his hold on you loosen.

Kelly’s face contorted into a look of rage as he looked down the alley. Without pausing, Kelly pounced, pushing the man off of you. He saw you sink to the ground out of the corner of his eye but turned his attention back to the man in front of him.

Kelly could feel his heart pumping in his chest as he landed a punch on the man’s face. The man threw a punch, causing Kelly to stumble backwards but Kelly threw himself forward again, pushing him deeper into the alley, so as to put as much distance as he could between you and the man.

Kelly threw another punch, knocking the man off his feet. Kelly growled but this time heard footsteps.

“Kelly!” Kelly stepped backwards, avoiding a kick from the man who lay on the gorunf before Jay came running up.

“Don’t move.” Jay snarled, taking out his gun.

Jay glanced at Kelly who was now holding onto this guy on the ground firmly, before holstering his gun and bending down to take over and handcuff the man. “I got this.”

Kelly nodded and hurried back to where you were sitting on the ground.

“Y/N?” Kelly approached, noticing the way you stiffened as he reached out for you. “Babe?”

You snapped your head up as you tried to shrink further backwards. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s me. It’s okay.”

You finally saw him, Kelly standing over you, his hand stretching out towards you. “Kelly?” Your voice shook a little.

Kelly bent to your level. “Baby, breathe. Just breathe, okay?”

You took a shuddering breath; a breath you didn’t know you had been holding as Kelly pressed you into him. “That’s my girl.” He whispered.

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” Kelly whispered, as you heard the sirens.

“Kelly, We’ll take him in. You think she’s up for a statement?” Jay’s voice now.

Kelly hesitated but you looked up. “I can talk to Jay.” You said, although you hadn’t loosened your hold on Kelly.

Jay nodded, “Kelly can stay with you. I just need an official witness statement, okay?”

You recounted as much as you could remember to Jay, glad that it was Jay who was taking your statement. A friendly face, someone you knew you could trust.

“Thanks Jay. I…”

Jay smiled, reaching in to squeeze your shoulder reassuringly.

---

Kelly had gotten you back to your apartment, and you were now sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey, you doing okay?” Kelly asked, coming down to eye level with you.

You smiled and nodded. “Now, I am.”

You reached for Kelly’s hand. Kelly took your hand in his and sank into the couch next to you, gently pulling you towards him and holding you close, planting a kiss on your temple..

“Can you stay? You make me feel safe.” You whispered.

Kelly didn’t respond immediately, instead just tightening his arms around you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes as Kelly shifted to make you more comfortable. “Kelly, I…”

“I know.” He whispered, “Me too.”

---

KELLY SEVERIDE TAGLIST

@keenmarvellover | @securityfriendly-jay | @winterberryfox | @bestillmystuckyheart

If you would like to be added to a taglist, you may request here or send me an ask!

708 notes · View notes

tricksters-captain · 3 years

Text

Helmut Zemo imagines - Hostage Part 1

AN: I came up with this idea for a series in the shower and I hope you guys are as intrigued by it as I am. Also I’m aware it’s posted later than I said but I’m a perfectionist and couldn’t post it until I was happy with it!! To make up for it, I have some Laszlo Kreizler smut coming up soon for you Alienist fans.

Summary: You were chosen as one of Karli’s elite. You became a super soldier to help your cause, make the world a better place but taking the serum came with a price. After being cornered one day, you’re taken by the famous Helmut Zemo to give him answers or face the consequences.

In This Chapter: Introductions. You are sent on a mission for Karli, only for it to turn bad.

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader, Karli Morganthau x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 2,703

Warnings: Spoilers for TFATWS, violence, strong language

You stared back at the burning building as the truck pulled away.

Despite the rumbling of the thick tires on the tarmac beneath you, you could hear the screaming.

“Hey.” DeeDee placed a hand on your shoulder and tugged you round. “Don’t look.”

You could see in her eyes that she was just as shocked as you were but was trying to hide it.

The task had been to remove as many supplies as possible from the GRC depot to take back to the camps in Riga. There had been no mention of bombing the place.

Lennox’s eyes met yours in the rear-view mirror. You were all thinking the same thing.

Why would Karli go through with something that hadn’t even been discussed?

“Turn here. It’s faster.” DeeDee leant forward pointing towards a more narrow alley as fire engine sirens echoed up ahead.

Lennox did as suggested and the others followed close behind.

It wasn’t a long drive from Vilnius to Riga but you all stopped when daylight broke to take some time to eat something.

You sat down beside Diego, your eyes flickering to Karli every few minutes as she dished out supplies for you all.

She noticed.

“(Y/n).” Karli remained standing as she handed out the last can to Dovich.

You took the hint and rose to your feet.

You followed her to the side of the abandoned structure as the others tried to tune the radio.

“What’s the problem?” Karli asked you, a hard expression across her features.

“What’s the problem?” You couldn’t help but scoff at the question. “Karli, you blew up a building with people still tied up inside.”

“I did what I had to do. It’s the only language these people understand. You saw just how much food, water and medicine they were sitting on. If we had a fraction of that just a few months ago Mama Donya might still be alive.” You could see the tears Karli was trying to suppress as she spoke of Mama Donya.

“You still should’ve consulted us before you went ahead with it. We’re better than an eye for an eye and you know that.” You cautiously took her hand into yours to try and comfort her. “We’re trying to make a difference here.”

“And that is how we do it.” She dropped your hand as she defended her actions. You shook your head but didn’t retaliate. You knew there was no use in arguing with her in that moment.

“There’s something I need you to do after Mama Donya’s funeral today.” Karli was quick to change the topic. “A mission for you and DeeDee.”

“What is it?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest.

“I need you to go to these coordinates immediately after the funeral. One of our allies will be expecting you both. He has information and something I need. It’ll be a parcel, small enough to conceal so you can make your way back to us without any suspicion.” Karli texted over the coordinates and the information on the contact.

“How can you be sure it’s safe?” You asked as you studied his profile.

“I wouldn’t send you if it wasn’t.” Karli paused before she wrapped her hand around the back of your neck and brought your forehead to hers. “We have to stick together now more than ever.”

You closed your eyes and exhaled a shaky breath.

“One world.” You muttered.

“One people.”Karli pulled away just as Dovich called over to you both.

They had managed to get the radio to work.

You sat down and opened a can of fruit slices to try and quench your hunger.

“The depot that was bombed was funded and run by the GRC, the Global Repatriation Council. One of the workers killed was the father of two and had only been on the job for one week. After condemning this latest action by the radical group known as the Flag Smashers, the GRC formally began drafting legislation known as The Patch Act, which would seek to restore traditional border regulations and fast-track the return to normalcy. The act of violence has also brought attention and followers to the Flag Smasher cause. No one can deny the world-wide reach of this group is growing, as is the danger.”

You shared a look with Gigi and Dovich as you listened to the broadcast. Your stomach churned at the mention of the father. You swallowed hard as you placed your food down.

Karli parted from the group again, feeling the pressure of the eyes on her, but you chose not to follow.

You had known Karli for 3 years. You met in Riga and became close quickly. You both had lost everything and then you had each other. When she took off to Madripoor, you followed. She always knew how to get people to see things her way, she had a spark inside of her that drew in those who wanted to fight for something; she was powerful for 19. She only grew more powerful with the serums.

You had backed her and supported her from the start but something was twisting. Something was going sour. You had never killed innocents before but in Karli’s eyes; was anyone on the side of the GRC innocent?

“Finish up. We need to get to the border in time to meet our contact.” Karli strode past the group and didn’t stop until she climbed into one of the cars.

You cleaned up after yourselves, leaving no trace that you were there, before you got back on the road.

You were back in Riga soon enough, your contact at the border let you through without any issues and you made it to the checkpoint with all the supplies safely.

Fortunately, you still had time to spare before Donya’s funeral.

You remained hidden, on the low, whilst Karli went with Nico to pick up the leftover serums.

You had previously spoken about creating more super soldiers. You had been against it. There were more than enough of you for the moment and the process of turning into one was beyond any pain you’d ever felt. You didn’t think more people needed to go through that. However, the vote passed and more were to be created.

“You ready?” Karli asked you as she returned. You nodded.

You headed to the secret location of Mama Donya’s funeral and fell into the crowd as the body came into sight. Mama Donya had been important to Karli and therefore important to you. She had been a kind woman. Kind to you. But Karli had a bond with her that you didn’t. This was Karli’s time to heal, to grieve, to help those who also relied on Donya.

You watched Karli step up to say a few words.

“I don’t remember my mother or my father. Same goes for siblings, grandparents, cousins. What I do remember is being alone. Worse than being hungry or cold or scared. I was alone. Until Mama Donya. Like a lot of you here, Mama Donya saved me. She clothed me, fed me, loved me.” You followed Karli’s eye line when she gasped softly.

It was Sam Wilson. Avenger.

You felt your blood go cold. Usually where there was one avenger, there were sure to be more.

“She taught me that we have to do for each other because they won’t. And we know who they are. They imposed struggle and hardship on us, then labeled us as criminals for pushing back. But the struggle is what brings us all together. People who have nothin’ in common. For we are, after all, simply one world and one people. So live accordingly.”

As you stepped forward and placed your bouquet of flowers down beside Donya, Karli clasped hold on your wrist.

“Go now.” She whispered under her breath.

“What about you?” You asked.

“I’ll be fine. Get to the contact.” Karli tried to assure you but you weren’t certain on leaving her. Dovich guided you away to stop you from arguing with Karli about it. He told you that he was going to stay behind to help Karli and that you had a more important job to do right now.

You had to give in and leave.

As you made your exit, you grabbed DeeDee and the keys to the motorbike outside.

“We gotta make a detour. Make sure we aren’t being followed.” You announced as you climbed onto the motorbike.

“Karli said our guy would wait for us so it’s better to be safe than sorry. We can’t mess this up.” DeeDee agreed with you as she placed herself behind you.

You took off down the street and did your best to lose any tails.

You ended up ditching the bike and moving underground once you were sure you were alone.

You were either really lucky or they had only brought enough backup to deal with Karli.

“We should be close.” You checked your phone to read the GPS before placing on your mask.

DeeDee held the flashlight up as you worked your way through the empty tunnel.

“You’d think Karli could organise a rendezvous point somewhere a little less musty.” DeeDee grimaced as a trio of rats scattered past you both.

“This is the safest way. We may have gained a lot of supporters above ground but we have a lot of enemies too.” You tried to defend Karli’s choice but even you had to admit that the sewers were a low point for you all.

“You think she got away okay?” DeeDee asked, the concern obvious in her voice despite her blank expression.

“I think Karli’s smart and she wouldn’t stick around if she knew she couldn’t win.” You may have been anxious for her but you rarely had doubts with Karli. Even without the serum she always managed to slip through the cracks.

As you continued to make your way through the tunnels, you spotted a silhouette up ahead.

You narrowed your eyes as DeeDee shone her light on him.

Fortautely, it was your contact.

“Greetings.” The man smiled widely at you both. He wore a bright head torch that stopped you from looking him in the eye and a large forest green coat.

“We’re here to collect the parcel and information for Karli.” DeeDee informed him, shading her eyes from his light as she tried to lift her gaze.

“Yes. Yes. I know.” The short man pulled out a small object wrapped in brown paper from under his coat. “Karli said you would be coming.”

As the man spoke, you heard something splash in the water behind you.

“What was that?” You asked, looking back to see if you could spot anything.

“It was probably just one of the rats.” DeeDee tried to assure you but the hairs on the back of your neck began to stand up.

You had a bad feeling about it.

“I’m going to check it out.” You whispered to her. “Better safe than sorry.” You repeated what she had said earlier.

“Be careful.” DeeDee handed you her flashlight before letting you go.

You crept back round the corner from whence you had came. You remained close to the wall to avoid any oncoming intruders head on. Peering down into the water, you saw that it had been in fact just a rat that was now paddling through the sewage.

“It's okay.” You relaxed, shouting ahead so they could hear you. “It was just a ra–––” You were cut short by a gloved hand covering your mouth.

You sent your elbow backwards instinctively which threw your attacker into the wall.

You spun around to see a figure dressed in a lavish coat with a purple mask covering his face. You furrowed your eyebrows at his appearance. You didn’t recognise him as an Avenger.

He came towards you, sending a fist to the side of your head. You managed to block his attack, kicking him in the chest.

You thought he’d be no match for you with your enhanced powers but he managed to put up a good fight.

He wrestled with you against the wall as he gained the advantage. You resorted in head butting him to get him off you.

You sent your leg up into his side but he wrapped his arm around your calf and yanked you forward. You lost your balance as he grip moved, hooking under your knee. He squeezed your thigh against him as he pulled out a rather large syringe.

“DEE! RUN!” You managed to howl before the needle sunk into your thigh.

You tried to fight again as he dropped your leg but your vision became patchy and your balance began to sway.

Not to your knowledge, he had injected as much tranquilliser into you as one would a tiger. Your enhanced abilities wouldn’t help you with that, you were soon out cold.

The stars shone above you as you and Karli laid back on the bonnet of the car.

“I genuinely believe that you could be the one to change things, Karl.” You said as you munched down on the chocolate bar she had gifted you.

“What are you on about?” Karli furrowed her eyebrows through her smile as she turned her head to face you.

“I mean look what you did for my birthday, just using your powers of persuasion.” You smirked.

“Persuasion isn’t enough to change things.” Karli disagreed.

“You’re right but right now, people need someone to look up to. Half the world is gone and hope isn’t something that's easy to come by anymore.” You stated.

“And you think that person could be me?” Karli scoffed at the idea.

“I think you could do anything you wanted if you put your mind to it.” You broke off a piece of chocolate and handed it to her.

“I think you’re spending too much time around Mama Donya.” Karli took the chocolate and popped it in her mouth.

“We’ll see who’s right one day.” You mused with a small smile. Karli rolled her eyes before trying to steal another piece. “Hey! It’s my birthday present!”

When your eyes finally opened, you realised you were no longer in the sewers.

You were standing but your hands were up above your head, chained to the wall behind you and a large metal strip was around your neck also. You desperately tried to search your surroundings through your mask but the restraints stopped you from moving much.

The room was dark, no windows, a few dim lights dotted around caused the room to seem almost a brown colour and there was little furniture.

You would’ve been a fool if you didn’t noticed the gun on a small table off to the side as well as the medical equipment glistening on a tall metal cart.

Your head throbbed and your mouth held the metallic taste of blood. You tugged at your wrist restraints to test their strength and to your luck they were holding.

“You’re awake.” You heard a thick accented voice when you stopped rattling your chains. “Good.”

The possessor of the voice, your kidnapper, stepped into light and you clocked who it was immediately.

It was Baron Helmut Zemo.

Zemo could not see your face as he had left the mask on you but he could tell from your eyes that you knew who he was.

“I bet you are wondering why you are here. Tied up in this basement.” Zemo started. “Let’s start with introductions, shall we?”

You remained silent.

“My name is Helmut Zemo––”

“––I know who you are.” You retorted.

“Then you know what I am capable of.” Zemo glared at you for the interruption. His hands finding his pockets as his eyes settled on your own.

“I know you’re going to kill me.” You knew of what happened with the Avengers. You knew of Siberia and the destroyed soldiers. You knew of his hate.

“I’m not going to kill you.” Zemo wagged his finger at you. “Not yet at least. No. We have a few things I’d like to discuss first.”

“Like what?” You scowled at the man.

“Like the whereabouts of Karli Morgenthau.”

(PART 2 HERE)

Taglist

@cathrin2405 @serenityfirefly97 @shannon-posts @dxnxdjarxn @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @trelaney @sierrabaltzer @daydreamer-in-training @e-barba @ornella0910 @natty13 @bry-97 @cherieweasley @kermuddgen @madelyn-barnes @jaxcliffaconda @candicerace @mo320 @takacsgram @hiccup005

257 notes · View notes

professorrw · 3 years

Text

Disobeying the Captian

Pairing: female reader x Steve Rogers

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, spanking, unprotected sex, Captain kink

A/N: Requests are open for one-shots, headcanons, imagines, and drabbles for My Hero Academia, Harry Potter, and Marvel! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on that just tell me! Please like, comment, and reblog!

Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Your footsteps are thundering on the metal tops of shipping containers.

“Y/L/N get out of there! Retreat! That’s an order!” Steve yells.

You ignore him and keep running, sights set on your fallen comrade. In just a moment the bomb will go off. But you can’t leave a man behind. You won’t. You jump down to the concrete ground and drop to the man’s level. “Can you walk?”

“I can try,” he pants out. His whole body was shaking and his leg was limp. You loop and arm under him and hoist him up. You start running back with the man limping along with you. Once you come into view of Steve he runs to meet you and as you pass the man along there’s an explosion. Heat gushes behind you and your head rings.

“Get in the chopper Y/N I got him!” You start running and risk a glance back at the chaos. The shipyard is in flames and your team is right at the edge of it. You jump into the back of the helicopter and help Steve fasten your teammate into a seat. You were clutching your burning chest. The intense running was killing your lungs.

You and Steve were the last to get in but as soon as you do the chopper takes off. You put on the aviation headset and let your head rest against the wall behind you. You can feel Steve’s glare even with your eyes closed. It was safe to say he was mad.

As soon as you land and your injured teammate is taken to get help Steve rounds on you. “Y/L/N you had no right to disregard orders.” He’s fuming and his eyes are narrowed at you.

“Steve, you know I couldn’t leave him behind. You wouldn’t leave him behind would you?” You cross your arms and stare right back at the taller man.

“This isn’t about what I would do, this is about you. You almost got yourself killed acting reckless.” At the last sentence his eyes momentarily soften but then he resumes his furious stance. If you weren’t blinded by anger you could have caught it.

“I won’t leave a man behind and that’s that Captain.” You weren’t going to let Steve make you feel guilty for your actions.

“What if you didn’t make it? What if you both died huh? Then we would have lost two people.” He raises his eyebrows, thinking he’s got the better of you. His hands are on his hips and his face is a foot from yours. His blue eyes are intense and burning.

“But I made it. I got to him in time and we made it back. No lives were lost.”

Steve swallows thickly, “You’ll come to my office later to discuss your punishment. Until then you’re dismissed.”

“My punishment?” you ask in disbelief. “What are you going to do, spank me? I saved him for Christ's sake!” Your arms are wide open and your eyebrows are raised.

“We’ll discuss this later Y/L/N,” he says through gritted teeth before turning from you. You scowl at his back and he disappears around a corner. For a minute you stand there, still in shock that he would punish you for that. You huff and finally turn around, making your way outside to the parking lot.

You turn on your car and switch on the air conditioning. You were still sweaty from the mission and the thing you needed right now was some cool air. You pop open the center console and pull out your phone. You immediately dial Sam to rant about Steve’s behavior.

“Y’ello?”

“Sam, you will not believe this. We just got back from a mission right? And one of my comrades fell, we took him to the med area and he’s getting treated, he should be okay, but I went back to save him because the bomb was about to explode and I couldn’t just leave him there. We get back and Steve blows up on me! He says, and I quote, ‘You had no right to disobey orders.’ Can you believe him?” Everything gushes out at once in one long and quick breath of air.

Sam starts cracking up on the other side of the line, “Oh Y/N. Don’t tell me you’ve lost your little crush over this? He cares about you obviously! Let me guess… he also said you could have died?”

Your mouth hangs open. “I- I do not have a crush on him. And …yeah.”

“You can’t lie to me! You were ecstatic when you heard you were being transferred to work with him. And it’s nothing to be upset over, he’s just in his feelings. He was probably scared.”

“He said he was going to punish me.”

“Oh- tell me how that goes,” he laughs again. “If that’s all I’ll be hanging up now. Ciao Y/N.”

“Sam-” there’s a beep and you pull your phone away from your face. He really hung up. Such an ass you think to yourself. You let a little breath escape your nose in a short laugh sort of way. Of course your best friend would say that. Of course Sam would say that. And why did he have to mention your crush on Steve? It was a girlish fantasy that would never be fulfilled.

You return inside and go to your room, mulling over Steve and Sam’s words. What kind of punishment would you get? Suspension? Cleaning the toilets? And also did Steve care about you? He’s never blown up on anyone else like that. Maybe he just doesn’t like you. Maybe he finds you aggravating.

You head to dinner with another one of your teammates from the mission earlier that day and eat with them. Right at the tail end Stacey, another one of your teammates, taps you on the shoulder. “Cap wants to see you in his office when you're finished.”

“Thanks, Stace,” you say to him. You finish up your dinner slightly dreading what’s to come. The walk to Steve’s office has your stomach rolling and you think you might just throw up.

You step up to his door labeled “Captain Rogers” and knock.

“Come in Y/N.” You step through the door and into his office. He’s sitting behind his desk lounging in his leather rolling chair.

“Captain,” you say flatly. You stand in front of the now shut door and cross your arms.

“Y/L/N look. I apologize for yelling at you. I shouldn’t have. I should really be thanking you. Drake is alright and it’s all because of you. He fractured his kneecap and he’s undergoing surgery but they think he’ll be okay.”

“Good. I’m glad.” You let your front drop a bit now that Steve’s calmed down.

“But I still think you deserve a punishment.” You hear the change in his voice, the way it lowered when he said that and it sent shivers down your spine.

“What do you have in mind?” you croaked out.

He chuckles and rises from his seat. He walks to the front of his desk and leans against it. He crosses his muscular arms over his just as muscular chest. He crosses his ankles and cocks his head to the side slightly. “What do you think I should do? I actually quite like the idea of spanking you. Do you think that’s a fair punishment?”

When he said that your entire body heat rose about forty degrees. Your cheeks were burning and your stomach was doing flips. It was like you were in a wet dream or something. You couldn’t deny that your Captain was turning you on. He always had. You had eyes after all. Everything about him was just… hot. His beard, his hair, his arms, his ass, the list went on.

You were incapable of responding and Steve found it amusing how flustered he made you. “How about it doll?”

“Yeah- Yeah that seems fair,” you manage to get out. Your voice was failing you and you sounded just as bewildered as you were.

Steve quit leaning on his desk and stood at full height beside it. “Bend over.” He motioned to the spot he had just left. You swallowed and walked over there in a daze. You did as you were commanded and bent over.

Steve’s hand rubbed on your butt before leaving it and coming back down with a loud smack. The motion pushed your whole body forward and your ass was already burning. Tears threatened the corners of your eyes. This was the first time in your whole life you had been spanked in such a manner.

Once again he rubbed your plump butt before delivering another blow to it. Your knees felt weak and you thought they were going to give out on you.

“Three more doll,” Steve’s sultry voice said from beside you. You prepared for impact as his hand came down again, and again, and again. Your butt was numb and tears stained your face.

“That wasn’t so bad was it? Are you going to disobey me again?” His hand was rubbing circles on your throbbing ass cheeks.

You fervently shook your head. You were fully embarrassed from the experience.

“You’re such a good girl… I wish you would listen to me more often. If you were gone, who would I masturbate to? Who would I spank? Would you like it if I spanked other girls?” he asked in a soft voice.

You shook your head again and dared to turn around. Your knees were shaking and you were having trouble standing but you willed through it.

Steve cupped your cheek and rubbed his thumb across your lips. “ You’re such a good girl. Do you want your Captain to take care of you? Do you want your Captain to make you feel good?”

You nodded this time but he ‘tsked.’ “Use your words.”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes Captain,” you answered.

“That’s what I like to hear.” He smiled at you and moved his hands to your waist. He grinded his crotch against you lightly as he pressed his lips against yours. You reciprocated the kiss and found purchase in his hair.

“Turn around for your Captain okay? Bend over again. Don’t worry, I won’t spank you.”

You did as he said and bent over the desk again. Steve got behind you this time and ran his hand along your spine before it went to your ass. He pulled your pants and underwear down and stopped to stare for a second.

He chuckled, “You’re already wet for me doll.” You couldn’t see what was going on but you could hear his belt buckle clink and then a zipper. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your slick folds. He moved it up and down your entrance, taunting it. He stopped at your cunt and pushed the tip in.

You gripped the edge of the desk and put your cheek against its cool surface. He waited for a second before he started to push more in. Your walls stretched to accommodate his thick member. It was without a doubt the biggest you ever had inside you.

You were moaning without a filter as he began to thrust into you. His balls were slapping against you repeatedly. He knew what he was doing, hitting your g-spot and sending tingles throughout you.

“You’re doing so good. You’re such a good girl.”

You moaned his name and then moaned “Captain” and that made him feral. He rutted into you without pause. He fucked you with superhuman strength. When your orgasm came he was still pounding into you trying to reach his own. You were worn out and your pussy was throbbing but he wasn’t going to stop until he came on you.

He body was rocking back and forth on the desk and the desk was scraping against the floor as it inched farther and farther back. Steve’s huge hands were pulling you to meet his thrusts. He pulled out of you and the next thing you knew warm liquid was spurting onto your bare ass cheeks. He stood there for a minute, admiring the art before him.

You pulled your underwear and pants back up and turned around, but still leaned against the desk. Steve smiled at you then held onto your waist to kiss you once more.

“If you disobey me again then I’ll punish you but if you act like a good girl I’ll make you feel good, how does that sound?”

“Good,” you whispered.

“Good…”

“Good Captain.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He gave you one more kiss and let you get in order before you left his office.

Taglist: @bellamy1998

286 notes · View notes

spidxysense · 3 years

Text

Back to You | 14

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader x Timothee Chalamet

A/N: Yay I updated! I hope you guys like this one, I was stuck for a bit there but once I sat down and got to typing, I really finished it in one sitting. I was just planning on updating it bit by bit lol. Let me know what you guys think, Love you!!!!!!

Word count: 2,591

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

In a few short months of your movie premier with Timothee, you were finally able to release your double-release album, and the response was massive, to say the least. You'd been getting calls from different show hosts' upcoming awarding ceremonies. Still, you couldn't for life in you accept, all except for the Oscars, which your manager told you was a must since you'd be attending in the first place anyway and that performing at the Oscars was a big deal given that you also starred in films and shows.

You turned in bed, facing Timothee's sleeping face. He had been in town for a week now, back on a break from filming in Hungary. Then he'd be back to film in England in a couple of weeks. After your talk on your premiere night, it was to an agreement that whatever you had going on was just two people exploring and experiencing things with someone they had strong feelings for. There wasn't a need for a media circus to cover anything about you two except your movie.

You move his arm, placed it over your waist, and sit up slowly in bed, making sure not to stir Timothee. The jetlag must be shit. You stretched your arms in front of you, glancing at the clock that read 2:07 AM. You get up, grabbing Timothee's white shirt from the floor, and, putting it on, walking over to the bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, touching some of the reddening parts of your neck courtesy of Timothee, and then you notice the toothbrushes… there were two. From this single thing alone, it had you catching everything about the bathroom, how there were two towels, one black, and one violet, which just so happened to be your favorite color.

You walked over to the nightstand beside the bed, putting on your skinny jeans, turning on the lamp, and noticing his wallet. Inside was a picture of you. Opening the closet doors, the ones hung up were various suits, jackets, and even dresses you've worn to events. Why didn't he just send these back? Why would he let you keep your stuff in his house?

You drag your feet downstairs, noticing small details you'd been blind to before, like the large dog bed positioned by the door despite Timothee telling you he could only ever get himself to take care of a tiny dog. You noticed the colored mugs and bowls, a deep dull navy blue color, the same as the ones in your house. Suddenly, everything feels as if it's moving too fast. You both agreed there was no relationship, and there was attraction, but why does his home feel like it's become yours as well?

You sit down, taking a few deep breaths before deciding to stand up and grab your cardigan from the coathanger, opening the front door and closing it behind you as you waited for a taxi to bring you to the more active part of the city at night.

You just couldn't deal with a relationship right now. You couldn't let your heart get broken again, so you have to find ways to distract yourself.

The car stops in front of you, driving off into the night and dropping you off by a club that Troye agreed to meet you at.

You and Timothee had an attraction, but you both agreed there was no label; ergo, there was no intimate relationship even though you both have done everything together. No boyfriend means you were free to do whatever you wanted without worrying about him. But if you were honest with yourself, this was more of you suggesting something you already knew Timothee wasn't too keen on agreeing with but would just because he thought that having something with you was better than absolutely nothing. You saw Troye waiting out by the back entrance for you when he spotted you and called you over. Almost like clockwork, every time you snuck out away from Timothee, everything in you screamed to turn back, to clear your head, and for the first time, you listened.

You motioned for Troye to go ahead and sent him a text that you'd probably just head home because you weren't feeling well. He gave you a knowing look before looking like he finally approved of your actions and sent you a quick and short 'Good." text, and headed inside.

You walked around for a while after that. Soon it was already just about 5 in the morning, and even though you wouldn't let yourself come to any conclusion as to what you even wanted out of this almost relationship with Timothee, you still found yourself back at his front door.

You took out the keys in your pocket, slowly opening the door only to find Timothee sat on the couch, his knees up to his chest as he stared off into space, either deep in thought or trying to keep himself awake… maybe even both.

When he saw you enter, a soft smile formed on his face, and for some reason, that made you smile too.

"Hey, you." He spoke softly.

You sat down quietly next to him, instantly he set his feet on the ground and reached over to embrace you in a hug, the familiar scent of Timothee that never left you that evening even more evident… It felt and smelled familiar, and right now, while your mind was a mess, familiarity was what you needed.

Timothee lifted his head, worried, "Hey, are you alright?"

You sighed, "I don't want to hurt you."

He murmured quietly into your neck as he peppered kisses, "You could never."

You pulled away, feeling guilt in your bones, "Aren't you even a little bit frustrated that we've been like this for months? That even in private, we can't even say that we're in a relationship?"

You gave you a reassuring look, "We both wanted this Y/N."

You sat up, "Except we didn't… You didn't." You corrected yourself, "You're bringing your mother to the fucking Oscars next month because I told you we couldn't be seen together at carpets for Pete's sake."

You stood up, starting to pace back and forth, "We have to coordinate outfits for the sake of not matching, and we never go out because I can't be seen with you in fear that we're going to get found out. I'm a terrible fucking person, and I don't understand how you're so okay with this."

Timothee was grinning, sleep still in his eyes, "I'm okay with it because I love you, Y/N."

You froze in your spot, "You what?"

He nodded and got up, walking over to you. The blue light of the early morning peaking through the curtain made this moment feel and look ethereal, "I said I love you, Y/N. I've known that I loved you from the moment I met you." He kissed the top of your head as he embraced you.

You shook your head, "No, no, no, you don't. I'll even list more shit I've done to you just so you understand how and why you don't love me."

Timothee chuckled, "And yet despite all this... all that's registering in my head is the fact that you've been thinking of me and only me this whole time. You've been worried about how you're hurting me because you don't want to."

And that's when you realized that Timothee was right. This whole time you've been thinking of Timothee and how much you wanted to protect him from you, but he never wanted to be protected from you because he knew that you could never hurt him. You rested your forehead against his.

"I-I need to go. I need to think."

He smiled sadly, "I'll be here when you're ready. I'll always be here Y/N until you don't want me to be here anymore."

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

You sat in your house, since leaving Timothee's earlier, you had been sat there lost in thought as you argued with yourself. It was true, the last thing you wanted was to hurt Timothee, but you were confused because it's like you couldn't understand your feelings. After all, a particular person still held a large part of it in his hands.

Timothee was there for you. Late night at the recording studio, whether through being there physically or even calling you or skyping you, he was always there. He was there with you when you bought all your albums from Target, and he was also the one who insisted you find another target that hasn't sold out your CDs so he could buy all of them too. Timothee was there with you when you had interviews that you almost felt like you could puke from nervousness backstage as he watched you talk about another celebrity you were getting linked to, and he was there with you to giggle about how stupid talk shows were. Timothee was always there. Whether it was dancing, kissing, or even fighting in the rain, he was always with you. He always wanted you around. Even when you rode the subway to get to a press conference of his or a promo for his upcoming movie, he always wanted you with him. He'd run with you in the rain, and he'd kiss away the sadness when you didn't want to speak with him. He was there with you when you get the sudden urge to buy all the popsicles from the nearest whole foods, and he was there with you when you got sick with the flu, which he also got from you. You'd spend afternoons walking around a far-off hill as you two put flowers in your hair despite knowing that you two probably had your busy schedules. Nothing mattered when you were with Timothee. Nothing mattered except each other. A part of you felt hurt that these memories you had kept of you and Tom were slowly being replaced by everything Timothee, but a large part of you also knew that the person you have now had no doubt that you couldn't ignore your feelings. You couldn't have to take Timothee out of your life.

Making up your mind, you got up, got dressed, and left for where you were sure you would find Tom.

He was in the middle of filming a new movie, but the second he saw you, he immediately asked to stop filming, a familiar, loving face plastered on as he walked over to you before being stopped by the director. They looked to be having a bit of a disagreement before he pointed you out, and the director looked at you in realization, patting him on the back and allowing him to jog over to you.

"Hey." You paused, your hand grasping your arm, and Tom took notice right away.

His eyebrows furrowed, "Hey, what's wrong?" He pulls you to sit by the curb as you two sat side by side, "You only do that when you're having a hard time saying something."

You gave him a look, "Well… I came here to ask you if it was alright if I try things out with Timothee."

He looked taken aback, "Oh, well, honestly, I thought you came by to sort things out between us…." He took notice of the way you looked down in guilt, "I don't think you could do anything with another guy that wouldn't upset me… but I don't really get that prerogative anymore, Y/N." He sighed, wrapping an arm around you to comfort you, "The fact is, you're trying to grow into who you've always wanted to be, and I'm trying to do that too for the sake of us and what we could be. If that means that you need or want to date someone again, I'll fully support you, but the most important thing is, does he make you happy?"

You sighed, looking out onto the filming lot, and nodded slowly, not noticing the slight upset look on Tom's face, "I catch myself sometimes smiling to myself when I think of him… But it's like I can't do anything because I don't want to let go of what we had."

Tom took a gulp, deciding that what was important right now was you, more than what he wanted, "What we had and what we were isn't important anymore Y/N. I'm working towards what we could become. What we had was co-dependency and a constant need to be in each other's presence to prove that what we had was perfect. I want us to find each other again in the future and know that no matter how far apart we are, if hopefully, we get together again, there is nobody in this world we'll love more… and that's what I'm encouraging you to do. I want to grow with you and grow for each other, and if that means you dating other people to understand yourself more, then I support you."

You looked at Tom for a second before hugging him and pecking him on the cheek, "I really needed that, Tom. Thank you."

He hugged you tighter, "Anytime. I'll always be here for you, Y/N."

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

You gripped your seat in the car in pure nerves. You were on your way to the Oscars with your assistant constantly telling you about your performance and what not to mess up and things to remember, especially about reporters who wanted an interview with you. To say you were all nerves today was an understatement. You hadn't spoken to Timothee ever since you told him you needed time to think, so today would be the first time you would ever come face to face with him. You thought long and hard about everything between the two of you. Still, you think you're finally ready to actually put some time and effort into this… and if that meant doing things that would significantly make Timothee happy, then you'd do it.

Your assistant watched a live feed from the Oscars as she gave you updates on how Armie was on the carpet. Saoirse was on the carpet, talking about how she hoped to make a movie with you and various other stars. You were a few minutes away from the carpet when she spoke up again.

"Timothee has just arrived." then she looked at her phone and back at you, doing a double-take as you gave her a sheepish smile, all she could do was smile approvingly at you before going back to giving you live updates.

A few minutes later, and your heart didn't feel like it was going to slow down anytime soon as your assistant gave you a pep talk, "Y/N. You are gonna rock that carpet, you'll turn heads, and most importantly, you're gonna be the talk of the night. There is nothing that could go wrong tonight. Just take deep breaths and don't trip."

Luckily you were still coherent enough to understand what she said as you took deep breaths to calm your nerves.

"Alright, three… two… one." The door flew open as one of the large men in suits grabbed your hand and helped you out. Your dress was not providing you much flexibility to move, and for almost 15 seconds, it felt like everything was moving in slow motion as everyone was quiet. You found Timothee busy with an interview as the crowd looked from you to him, the topic on everyone's minds for the past few months. As if this were the only proof they needed, they held their cameras in their hands as they snapped pictures of you and a commotion started as they started asking for Timothee.

You think you gave them a quick, charming grin as you told them he was in an interview before walking towards the interviewer and Timothee. She was the first to notice while Timothee talked about how his mom stood him up as his Oscars date, something you arranged a week earlier and something Timothee's mom was more than happy to comply to.

The interviewer looks ecstatic as the only one and the first one on this carpet to get whatever the scoop was here, as she wasted no time when you slowly approached them, "Timothee! You said you were stood up, but you never told us that your backup would be late!"

Timothee shot her a confused look before he felt your arm slowly snake around his arm, "Sorry I'm late." You quickly whispered to him.

His face looked shocked. Almost as if a reflex, he almost pulled away from you before getting a good look at what you were wearing. His jaw looked like it would drop to the floor as he looked utterly awestruck.

The interviewer giggled nervously, already knowing her interview time was slowly coming to an end without any payoff to the two of you, "Timothee, you look to be speechless at Y/N's dress tonight." She looked at you hopefully, "Could everyone here assume this is date night?"

You smiled shyly at the lady before giving her a tiny curt nod, "I know it's a bit cliche to match outfits, but when I saw that Timothee was going to wear a harness, I just couldn't let him take all the attention for tonight, so I apologize, but I've kept this secret from him too just to make sure he doesn't do anything to take the spotlight, that's why he looks like he's just had a heart attack." you giggled.

He gave a quick, playful tilted look to you before blinking multiple times, "In my defense, I didn't even know that this was a harness... They told me this was a bib."

"Bib or not, you two look like the sexiest couple on the carpet, and I just so happen to be the luckiest interviewer tonight." The interviewer looked ecstatic as can be as she jumps up, more energetic to interview the two of you, "And well, Y/N, one look at you, and it's hard to believe anyone would still have the ability to speak. You look gorgeous." She winked at the camera, "But I can't help but notice you just confirmed this is date night… Is it safe to assume what everyone has been wondering for the past few months? That you two are dating?"

Somehow, Timothee finally snaps out of it and looks at you, a questioning look before you leaned over and spoke into the mic, "Yeah. We're together. We have been for a while now." You smiled sheepishly as you saw Timothee's face glow as he wrapped his arm around your waist, "I apologize for keeping quiet for so long, but we think it's the right time to go public now that we've decided to take things to a more serious level."

The interviewer waves a hand in the air, "As long as you two let us in on the secret, there's no problem there." She faced the camera, "You heard it here first, folks. Hollywood's newest and hottest up and coming power couple. From both Y/N and Timothee themselves, now going public with their relationship."

As you two walked away from the interviewer for more pictures, Timothee embraced you, uncaring of the cameras flashing in your faces, "Are you serious?"

You nodded slowly, "I'm ready to be with you completely, Timothee. I'm sorry I took so long."

He shook his head like a puppy, "As long as you're here with me now, Y/N, I don't care."

He pulled away at the sound of your name and his in the same sentence as the photographers asked for your attention. He quickly kisses you on the cheek as you shut your eyes and grinned, cameras going off and commotion started up at you two, the young hot couple everyone had wanted more details on.

Timothee clutched your waist tightly, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, this would all go back to how everything was before.

Before entering the venue, he pulled you to the side, "Are you sure about this? I don't want you to force yourself."

You shook your head, guiding his head to yours, "I think I'm in love with you too, Timothee. I'm all in with you." And then you kissed him.

#Timothee Chalamet #timmy #selena gomez #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom x reader #timothee chalamet fanfic #timothee x reader #bty #back to you #i finally updated #im so sorry i took so long #thank you for being so patient and always supporting my page #spidxysense

86 notes · View notes

yourlocalfictionalenthusiast · 3 years

Text

IN LIFE, IN DEATH...

PART THREE

Part One, Part Two

Warnings: just some swearing

May 1995

“We’re totally gonna get a record deal!”

Luke said for the tenth time in the past hour as he bounced in his seat.

It was Friday night and normally, you would all be messing around at the park, the beach, or just watching a movie in the studio. But when your phone rang and it was the booking manager for the Orpheum telling you that Sunset Curve is officially the new opener next month, the boys insisted on being there the second your shift at the diner was over.

So instead of arguing about having another Star Wars marathon or playing at the pier, you were all packed in your regular booth at Cece’s for celebratory milkshakes. You sat on the very edge of the booth, practically falling asleep on Alex. Ever since you got the call that morning, every cell in your body felt supercharged with excitement.

But now that the day was coming to an end, you could hardly stay awake enough to pay attention to the conversation.

Bobby, who was in your usual spot, pinched Luke’s arm. “Don’t jinx it, dude.”

“It’s not jinxing if you know for sure.” Luke said. “I mean, we’re awesome! And we’ve worked so hard to get to this point. It’s all gonna pay off.”

As much as you wanted to believe him, you were still nervous. There was nothing you were prouder of than your music, and you knew that a crowd that big would be good for gaining a lot of new fans. But the idea of that many people seeing you perform and hearing your lyrics was nerve-wracking.

You could tell the others felt the same way. Bobby was biting his nails, Alex was bouncing his leg so hard it almost hit the table and Reggie was slumped against the wall. Luke just stared at all of you, his bright smile never fading.

He snapped his fingers so loud that you jumped at the noise, then he started digging in his pockets. “I know what’ll cheer you guys up.”

Luke pulled out a safety pin, then brought its point down into the table, his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth in concentration. After a few minutes, he brushed off the table and presented his design proudly. It was four words in huge slanted letters.

‘SUNSET CURVE WAS HERE’

“Seriously, Luke?” Alex said, his eyes wide. “Cece’s gonna kill you!”

Luke just smirked and handed him the pin, gesturing to the space under the words. “‘C’mon, man. You’re up first.”

It took a lot of convincing, but Alex eventually gave in, and one by one, you all signed your names.

‘Alex,

Bobby

Reggie

Luke

(Y/N)’

You heard the sound of Cece’s heels hitting the floor as she exited the kitchen. Panicking, you shoved the pin in your pocket just in time as she came up to the table.

Before she could even see that anything was different, Reggie pointed at Luke.

“He did it!”

Cece frowned before inspecting the table, letting out a deep sigh and putting her hands on her hips.

“Are you vandalizing my diner, Patterson?”

Luke paled. “It was a group effort.”

“But it was your idea,” Alex said with a smirk, no doubt trying to pin the blame on Luke to keep his spot as Cece’s favorite. You had to bury your head into his shoulder to contain your laughter.

You could tell from the way that she was struggling to keep a straight face that Cece wasn’t actually mad but you weren’t gonna tell Luke that. He tried to kick Alex’s leg under the table but he hit yours instead. You hissed in pain and Luke paled even further.

“Shit, sorry, (Y/n).”

“And abusing my staff?” Cece joked, shaking her head.

Luke flashed her a charming smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry, Cece. Just got a little excited.”

“I can see that.” She laughed then turned to you. “Hey. Get up. I got you something.”

You looked up at her in confusion but she didn’t offer you any answer as you dragged yourself up. Cece pulled a small blue box out from behind her back and handed it to you. “What’s the occasion?”

Cece rolled her eyes. “Just open it.”

The first thing you saw was a folded piece of paper with your name on it, under it was a silver key. You picked it up and held it in between your fingers as you carefully unfolded the paper to see three words in Cece’s careful handwriting.

just in case

You looked up at her, eyebrows knitted together. “Cece?”

She just winked as she put her hand on your cheek. “Honey, you know that I couldn’t have more faith in you and your rockstar dreams. But just in case things don’t work out...well, I couldn’t imagine giving this place to anyone else.”

You flew into her arms and hugged her so tight it was a little painful. Of course, all you wanted was for Sunset Curve to get signed to a label and take over the world. But this place was like home to you and the idea of owning it some day made your heart swell. “Thank you!”

The booth erupted in cheers and Cece playfully glared at them as she tucked you under her arm. “But you have to promise you’ll keep these boys of yours from doing any more damage to the property.”

Bobby scoffed. “Hey, we’re not-”

You slapped your hand over his mouth before nodding at Cece. “I’ll try my best.”

The bell on the door jingled to announce the arrival of another customer, and Cece left to greet them. You twirled the key around in your hand and looked at the boys' smiling faces, unable to hide your own.

As you settled back in the booth and took a sip of your milkshake, you couldn’t help but feel like everything was coming together.

2020

L.A was somehow so different, yet exactly the way you remembered.

The way the bright lights flooded the streets, to the way that every surface you see was decorated with a piece of art, made you anxious to re-explore the city you loved so much.

You couldn’t help but stare through your swinging legs at the crowds walking around below, listening to the soft buzzing of the Orpheum’s sign above your head.

An hour ago when Luke had suggested walking around the city, you figured you would end up here eventually. But now that you were actually here, you couldn’t help the hollow feeling that settled in your stomach.

It must’ve shown on your face because Luke launched into one of his motivational speeches. “C’mon, guys. I know being dead wasn’t our first choice. But you gotta admit, it is easier to get around.”

Reggie pouted. “Easy for you maybe. I lost my shirt on that one.”

You hadn’t even noticed that he was shirtless until it reappeared in a flash and he sighed in relief.

“So, why did you bring us here?” Alex asked Luke. “Just another painful reminder of where we never got to play?”

You smiled sarcastically. “Yeah, thanks, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Because, we’re not done yet!”

He slung his arm around Alex’s shoulder, and gripped yours as he poofed you all down to the sidewalk, pulling away from you as fast as possible once your feet were back on the ground.

“I’m telling you.” Luke said. “We’ve been given a second chance. Let’s go see how many clubs we can hit before sunrise!”

He started walking down the street and Reggie was quick to follow, leaving you and Alex behind. As you watched them skip down the sidewalk, Alex let out a sharp ‘hey!’ and you whipped around to see him rubbing his shoulder.

A man in a long black suit stared straight into your eyes before tipping his hat to Alex and disappearing down the street. Every hair on your body stood on end as you stared at the spot where he was just standing.

“That was weird.” You said, turning to Alex. “You okay?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You could hear Luke and Reggie’s excited shouting as they ran down the street, but you and Alex kept your distance. He reached his arm out to you and you took it automatically.

Over the last six months, Alex had become your best friend. You had always been close but last summer when things got bad with his parents, he turned to you.

And when things started to get weird between you and Luke or you had a fight with your mom, Alex was the only one you wanted to talk to.

“Alright.” Alex sighed. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“I know you’re dying to talk about Luke.”

“I am not!”

Alex raised his eyebrows, clearly not convinced.

“Besides, there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing-” He took in a sharp breath. “(Y/n), for someone so smart, you’re acting like a dumbass.”

You put a hand on your chest, dramatically gasping. “Alexander Mercer! I had no idea you were capable of using that kind of language.”

He flashed you his middle finger before unlocking his arm from yours and pulling you into his side. “Seriously though. What’s rolling around up there?”

You were quiet for a few minutes as you rested your head on his shoulder. “I just want to know what I did, you know?”

Alex nodded, but didn’t say anything, as he knew that you were just getting started.

“I mean, he’s always been there. He's always been my person. The one who I could count on for anything. Then that night in the studio, I thought…”

You trailed off and Alex held you a little tighter. Even though he wasn’t there, he could probably describe that night in exact detail from the amount of times you had told him about it. “I just miss him."

“Yeah, I know.” Alex said, his eyes glued to Luke’s back. “But, hey, you know that he loves you, and that didn’t change because of one night.”

He started to say something else but cut himself off as he saw Reggie and Luke approaching, both with big, goofy smiles. Reggie took your arm that wasn’t around Alex’s back and locked it in his.

“What are you guys talking about?” He asked.

“Nothing!” You said way too fast, cringing to yourself as you dragged Reggie down the sidewalk. “Come on, Reg. Let’s go see if that old comic book shop is still around.”

As the night wore on, you became more and more thankful that you weren’t able to get tired.

You spent the whole night sneaking into concert venues, clubs, and pretty much any place you wanted now that there was no chance of getting caught. It wasn’t until you passed a small street-side café that you let yourself think about the one place you hadn’t been yet.

Cece’s Diner.

When Julie told you it had been 25 years, you assumed that it had closed down. That Cece had moved away. Maybe even reconnected with her son and lived out her life. It seemed like such a perfect thought that you didn’t want to ruin it with reality.

But now that you had seen the way things had changed in the time you had been gone, you were now filled with a sense of urgency. You launched up the sidewalk until you were in front of the boys.

“Hey, guys?” You asked. They all stared at you curiously as a smile slowly spread across your face. “Anyone up for milkshakes?”

When you walked up to the diner - for only an instant - it was as if no time had passed. You felt the urge to run inside, throw your hair up in a ponytail, and make a beeline for the kitchen before you got in trouble for being late for your shift.

Only as you got closer, you realized how much had changed. The building, which had always been a little ordinary and worn like a well-loved home, now felt about twenty stories tall. You dragged yourself forward toward the door, unable to look away.

The boys lingered behind you, but no one said a word.

Your hand reached for the doorknob before you remembered that you wouldn’t actually be able to touch it.

I really gotta get used to that, you mumbled to yourself as you walked through the door.

It looked so different that you almost didn’t recognize it.

The bright blue paint had been replaced with brown on every wall, bookshelves lined the corners of the room, and long leather couches had replaced the booths and tables. The old jukebox had disappeared, and some old jazz song was playing over speakers over your head.

“Can I help you?”

A voice asked from behind the counter. It was a boy that looked a little older than you, messy black hair and an uninterested smile. He dragged a blue pen across the margins of a book as he waited for your answer.

“You can see us?” Alex asked, to which the boy rolled his eyes.

“I’m talking to you, aren’t I?” He said, raising his eyebrows when you all failed to answer either of his questions.

“My, my. Aren’t we chatty.”

“Who are you, exactly?” You said, trying to mask your annoyance with a smile.

“Teddy.” He said, pushing himself off the counter and making his way around until he stopped just a few feet ahead of you. “And you’re (Y/n).”

A shiver ran down your spine. “How do you know that?”

“You were a friend of my grandma’s.”

Before you could ask what the hell he meant by that, a man came walking out of the kitchen. He looked so much like Cece that it made your stomach flip. It was her son.

And as you looked back at Teddy, your mind slowly connected the dots. “You’re Cece’s grandson?”

He nodded.

“Okay, this is just too weird.” You said as you rubbed your temples. There was no way that this was actually happening, right? Maybe you somehow fell asleep and are having some weird ghost dream.

“Okay, well I definitely feel old.” Alex sighed.

Your head was spinning. “What is even happening right now.”

Teddy smiled. “Well, it’s too bad we’re dead or else I would buy you coffee and explain it to you.”

You internally cringed at his pick-up line but you couldn’t help but laugh a little. Normally, random guys flirting with you made you uncomfortable but behind his cocky attitude, he seemed like a genuine guy.

Maybe it was the way that he twirled his pen between his fingers the way that Cece used to, but something told you that there was more to him than meets the eye.

Before you could answer, Luke spoke up. “Well, it was nice meeting you. But we really should be getting back home.”

You could see that he was right as the pale light came in through the windows as the sky started to lighten.

But you couldn’t help but notice that this was the first time he had interjected in the conversation since you got there, and a small part of you wondered if that had anything to do with the way that Teddy was staring at you.

You shook those thoughts from your head, giving Teddy a soft smile.

“Maybe next time.”

Though you weren’t capable of getting cold, you still shivered a little as you walked through the door and back out onto the street. You could feel Luke’s eyes on the side of your face, flickering down to the sidewalk when he saw you looking.

You gave him a light nudge on the shoulder, and he gave you a soft smile that you couldn’t quite decipher the meaning behind.

That was pretty much all you got from Luke these days.

“So,” Luke said, his enthusiasm returning in full force as he threw his arms over Alex and Reggie’s shoulders. “I think it’s safe to say we’re officially back in business.”

The second that you landed in the studio, your jaw dropped.

Julie was sitting at the piano, her voice shaky but full of passion as she belted out the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard. Her fingers hit the keys expertly and you smiled.

You closed your eyes, listening to her voice echo through the room and getting lost in the warm feeling the lyrics filled you with. It wasn’t until she stopped singing and sniffled quietly that your heart dropped.

Both you and Alex surged forward to comfort her but Luke shook his head and swirled his finger, signaling to meet up outside. You wanted to protest. To stay and comfort your new friend.

But Julie sniffled again and you thought that maybe it would be a good idea to give her space. You made a mental note to talk to her later and poofed out of the garage.

In Life, In Death Taglist:

@ifilwtmfc @instabull @wanniiieeee @tenaciousperfectionunknown

JATP Taglist:

@caitsymichelle13

Let me know if you want to be added!

#luke patterson #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #julie molina #Reggie Peters #Alex Mercer #jatp fanfic

146 notes · View notes

jombocostello · 3 years

Text

(Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke, Okuyasu) Valentine’s Day Confessions

Anonymous asked: Happy 2021 and hope you had a great New Year’s! It’s a little early, but could I request HCs for how pt 3 Jotaro, Kakyoin, Josuke and Okuyasu react to getting Valentine’s chocolates from the person they like? If it’s not too much, maybe a little bit about what they would do in return for White Day? I love this cheesy trope. Thanks! ❤️

Thank you, and of course!! I’m such a sucker for literally any cheesy trope haha, so I really appreciate this! Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

-- Jotaro --

Jotaro is no stranger to Valentine's chocolates.

Every single Valentine's day since the age of 12, he's received dozens of presents from countless peers. Most of the time, he doesn't even know their name - he just wordlessly takes the little box out of their hands and throws it rather carelessly into his locker. The spoils of the day usually end up going to his mom; Jotaro isn't a big fan of sweets.

When Valentine's Day rolls around this year, however, there is someone he wouldn't mind receiving a gift from. Over the past few months at school, he's gotten somewhat close with you. When you were seated next to each other in chemistry at the beginning of the year, Jotaro had thought nothing of it - he wasn't at all interested in making friends. However, as the class began, he started to notice little things about you. You were kind, always taking the time to strike up a conversation with him before class, and your laughter was infectious. Despite your happy-go-lucky nature, you could also be more down to earth, which Jotaro really appreciated. It only took a month for Jotaro to realize he was in love.

The hallways are loud today, as admirers rush through the halls during class to deliver their gifts. Jotaro walks to his locker and unlocks it, reaching in and grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the little shelf. Just as he's about to take one, he feels a tug at the hem of his jacket.

"Hm?" He turns around and stares down at the perpetrator. It's a girl, with pretty hair and an anxious smile. After a moment of silent eye contact, the girl shakes herself a bit and shoves a small bag into Jotaro's chest. "H-happy Valentine's Day!" she says hastily. Jotaro just places the bag in his locker and looks back at her, his expression utterly vacant. It only takes a few more seconds for the girl to hurry away, flustered and a little embarrassed.

The bell rings to signify the official end of the school day (Jotaro had skipped his last class just for the hell of it), and suddenly there's even more commotion. Despite how much he would love to get out of this hellhole, Jotaro stays put, folding his arms over his chest. His gaze locks on a locker on the other side of the hallway - it's yours. He figures he should wait for you.

In the time it takes for you to show up, six other people have gifted Jotaro Valentine's Day gifts. None of them received so much as a word of thanks, which Jotaro doesn't really feel bad about. He just wants to see you.

Finally, you get to your locker. "Hey!" he calls, waving you over. You turn around and grin when you realize who it is, and after quickly grabbing your books you walk over to his side of the hall.

"You made out like a bandit," you mutter, peering past Jotaro and at the stack of candies in his locker. "Does that happen every year?"

"Yeah," he replies. "Still don't know why." He puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. "Did you get anything?"

You laugh a little and shrug. "Nah, but I was planning on giving something." Jotaro's eyes widen and he glances at the ground, trying not to let his expression give anything away. It's a long shot, but he really hopes your gift is for him.

"Are you doing anything later?" he asks after he's recovered somewhat. You shake your head, and a rare smile appears on Jotaro's face. "We could hang out, if you want. Maybe share all this stuff." He gestures to the gifts in his locker, and you laugh.

"That would be fun." Your smile softens a bit, and Jotaro watches you closely. "I guess we could share these too!"

Jotaro's smile grows, and you quickly reach into your bag and pull out a little box of sweets. "Here you go!" You present them to him with a big grin on your face. "It's been really great spending this year with you," you say, and Jotaro can feel his heart pounding in his chest. "Would you want to be my Valentine this year?"

Gingerly, Jotaro takes the box from your hands and holds it close. "Yes," he replies almost immediately. "I'd really like that."

"Cool." Jotaro carefully puts all the Valentine's candies in his bag, being extra-sure not to damage yours. Once he's done, you reach out and take his hand in yours. "Do you mind if I hold your hand?" you ask, noting his surprised expression.

He blinks and clears his throat, suddenly horribly flustered. "N-no. I don't mind at all." With a warm smile, you turn and head to the exit, pulling Jotaro along behind you. He really can't believe how lucky he is that you returned his feelings.

Outside, you both stand together in front of the school. "We can go to my house," Jotaro says, nodding his head in the direction of the route home. "But my mom'll be there."

"Sure! And I don't mind," you tell him with a little laugh. "I know you love her a lot, so she must be nice."

"...Yeah. Yeah, she's nice." Feeling happier than he maybe ever has, Jotaro walks with you down to the road. You're his best friend - you have been for a while - and he's so happy that you've become something more as well.

For White Day:

After one month of dating, you're not actually expecting to receive a gift from Jotaro. He's not a very material person; he prefers to show his love in more subtle, sensitive ways, and you appreciate it endlessly. However, on White Day, Jotaro surprises you with a delicate piece of jewelry! It's kind of obvious that he asked his mom for help in selecting it, but that makes it even sweeter.

-- Kakyoin --

Unlike his more popular classmate, Kakyoin really isn't used to getting Valentine's gifts. Since a very young age, Kakyoin has kept himself pretty isolated; he's never been very sociable. This led to him being labeled as rude and even a little intimidating, and he resigned himself to that fate.

However, when Kakyoin re-enrolled in Jotaro's school after returning from Egypt, things were a little different. Spending fifty days with four near-strangers had helped him open up, and after his dance with death in Cairo, he didn't want to waste a single day of his life. So, he approached his senior year with confidence and charisma - at least as much as he could muster - and to his delight, this ended up creating a beautiful friendship.

You've been best friends with Kakyoin since you wound up in the same class. You're both quiet, though you have an easier time socializing with your peers than Kakyoin does, and you both can be quite talkative once you've opened up to someone. It was during school lunch hour that you and Kakyoin really got to know each other, talking at length about anything either of you found interesting, and it was also during this time that Kakyoin developed a bit of a crush.

Now it's Valentine's Day, and Kakyoin refuses to let himself hope that you feel the same. Besides the crusaders, Kakyoin has never felt this close of a connection with someone, and he's terrified of letting an unrequited crush break it apart. He stands by his locker, trying not to look as anxious as he feels, and he watches out of the corner of his eye as students rush out of class to find their significant others. He's struck by a pang of loneliness as he observes two students lovingly exchanging Valentine's candy, and he tries to will the feeling away as he takes his bag out of his locker.

"Hey, Kakyoin!" He nearly jumps out of his skin when he shuts his locker and finds you smiling sweetly at him. "Shit, did I scare you?" you ask, your smile dropping.

"Yeah," he replies, laughing a little awkwardly. "Don't worry about it." He gets the last of his stuff together and throws his bag over his shoulder. "So how was math today?"

You give him something between a smile and a grimace. "Oh, you know - hell." You both laugh. "The test's next week, so at least I'll have time to study."

"We could study together!" Kakyoin suggests, then all in a rush he feels heat flood to his face. You blink, looking similarly flustered. After quickly shaking himself, he stammers out, "If-if you want to! If it's not weird or anything."

You clear your throat, hastily shaking your head. "Not weird at all! No, I'd love to." Phew. Kakyoin lets out a small exhale and nods. "But hey - can I talk to you for a minute? Over where we have lunch?"

Kakyoin frowns. He starts to ask if something's wrong, but he stops himself. "Oh - alright." Together, you and Kakyoin head over to the back of the school, underneath a large tree. This had been where the two of you met.

There's a solemn feeling to the air as you lean against the wall of the school, taking a quick breath. Kakyoin watches you nervously; he's actually managed to forget what day it is in his worry for you. "Is something the matter?" he asks gently, and you look up into his violet eyes. "If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

You grin, surprising Kakyoin, and suddenly you reach out and wrap your arms around him. "No, nothing's wrong," you murmur, and Kakyoin can hear the smile in your voice. If nothing's wrong, then what...? "I have something for you."

Kakyoin hesitantly lets you go, and you quickly reach into your bag. He almost forgets how to breathe when you pull out a little pink box with a red heart sticker on top. "I was kinda scared to do this, because I don't really know if you feel the same way that I do, but I figured I should try. Would you be my valentine?" With the most adorable grin, you reach out and offer him the box of sweets.

For a few moments, he can't figure out how to cohesively form words. As his mind searches desperately for a response, he carefully takes the box from you. "Yes," he finally forces out. "Yes, I would love that more than anything, (Y/N)."

You laugh out loud and stand up on your tip toes, pressing a kiss to Kakyoin's cheek; you laugh even harder when his face turns the same shade as his hair. "I'm so glad," you say softly. "I was really hoping you felt the same."

"Of course I do," he responds quickly. "You're wonderful." And he leans down and kisses you, and the motion is the most natural thing in the world.

For White Day:

Kakyoin's main goal for White Day is to show you just how much you mean to him, and how much he appreciates your love. He'd get you something that's connected to an interest of yours, whether it be a book from a series you enjoy, a new video game, or a clothing piece from a line you love. He wants the gift to be as personal as possible, and the greatest gift for him would be seeing the way your eyes light up as he gives it to you.

-- Josuke --

Valentine's Day is always the most hectic day of the year for Josuke. In fact, right now he's running full-speed out of his high school to try and avoid the horde of students who intend to shower him in Valentine's Day gifts.

He appreciates it, he really does, but after so many years of countless peers fawning over him, he's starting to get a little sick of it all. He doesn't really understand why they all like him so much; other than his sick pompadour, he's pretty sure he's just like any other guy.

He bursts through the front door and keeps going, racing past the train tracks and finally stopping in front of the cafe down the street from his house. He quickly grabs a table and throws himself into a chair, trying desperately to catch his breath. If he lays low here for a while, hopefully he'll be in the clear -

"What's up, Josuke?"

He whips his head around when he hears his name, but instantly he relaxes when he sees it's just you, his buddy who moved to Morioh only a few months ago. You're a good friend of Josuke's; ever since you were shot with the stand arrow and gained a new ability, you've been spending a lot of time with the other stand users in town - mainly Josuke. You're a really easygoing and lighthearted person, but at the same time you're smart and witty, and Josuke loves spending time with you.

"Seriously, what's going on? You look like you just ran a marathon."

Josuke laughs breathlessly and nods. "I did. I was trying to avoid the Valentine's crowd."

"The crowd...?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. Josuke gestures for you to pull out a chair and take a seat. As you sit, he rests his chin in his hand.

"Yeah. Every year I get totally swamped with Valentine's Day gifts. It's sweet, and I appreciate it, but it can be seriously overwhelming."

Josuke notes a change in your expression, but he can't quite place it; is it embarrassment? Either way, it's gone in a second, and you laugh a little. "Didn't know you were such a charmer," you tease, poking him in the arm, and he swats your hand away with a grin. "Seriously, though, that must be tough. Does rejection ever discourage them?"

"Not really, honestly. I guess I can admire their perseverance." Suddenly, a waiter arrives and asks the two of you if you'd like a drink. "Yeah," Josuke says quickly. "I'll have an iced tea. How about you, (Y/N)?"

You blink, looking a little stunned, and after a moment you order your drink of choice. As the waiter leaves, Josuke looks at you with a frown on his face. "You alright? You seem a little out of it."

You wave your hand through the air, smiling. "Nah, I'm good." After a little more chatting, the drinks arrive and you both enjoy your beverages.

After a few more minutes, you hesitantly say Josuke's name. "What's up?" he asks, raising his eyebrows.

"Ah..." You grin nervously, looking to the side. "I get that Valentine's Day is a sore subject for you, but - isn't this a bit of a Valentine's date?"

Instantly Josuke turns bright red. "Oh my God!" he breathes, totally mortified. "Are you - are you uncomfortable with that? If you are it's really no problem, I just wasn't thinking and - "

"No!" You reach out and grab Josuke's arm, looking at him with wide eyes. "No, I'm not uncomfortable at all. Are you?" He feels his heart skip a little at the sincerity in your eyes, and he shakes his head. "Okay." You let go of Josuke and reach down into your schoolbag, pulling out a small letter. "I really should thank you for dropping the perfect opportunity right in my lap." With a small smile, you set the letter down on the table. "Josuke, would you wanna be my valentine?"

There's something so genuine in your voice that makes Josuke nearly swoon. He can't believe he's never realized how sweet you really are. "Yeah," he says quickly, a grin growing on his face. "Yeah, that would be amazing."

"Really?" You laugh and lean across the table, giving Josuke a huge hug. His heart nearly skips a beat when he realizes you're purposely being careful with his precious hairstyle. "Oh my God, I'm so happy." You let go and lean back. "You scared the shit out of me with all that Valentine's Day talk."

Josuke laughs. "My bad. I'm glad I didn't scare you off." The two of you continue on your impromptu date, and Josuke tucks your letter into his pocket. He's excited to read it, and he's ecstatic to be your Valentine.

For White Day:

Josuke would want White Day to be a full-day experience; he'd take you anywhere, from the mall to the beach and even hours away to a theme park. He'd even skip class if need be! Being with you is so much fun, and he'd want his gift to reflect that. A day full of adventure would be the perfect encapsulation of your relationship.

-- Okuyasu --

Okuyasu has never been too serious about Valentine's Day. For a good portion of his life, he really didn't even have any close friends besides his brother, so romance was never even remotely in the picture for him. However, once he meets Josuke and the rest of his stand-user classmates, he starts to feel a little romantically inclined towards you, his closest friend in your already tight-knit group.

You're a complete goofball. Your favorite hobby is making people laugh, and you succeed wholeheartedly in that task whenever you're around Okuyasu. He finds you hilarious, and he finds it extremely sweet that you love making him smile so much. He likes to think that he does the same for you; you seem to like spending time with him, seeing that you do so pretty often.

When Valentine's Day rolls around, Okuyasu is completely prepared to confess. He's scared shitless, but he's so passionate about his feelings for you that he's willing to ignore any anxieties and make his feelings known. All day he suffers through his classes, playing the scene over and over in his head. It has three outcomes: either you accept and return his love, you reject his proposal but agree to be friends, or you flat out refuse him and cut all contact. He can't describe how terrified he is of the last potential result, but he forces himself to be courageous and persevere.

Finally, his last class ends, and he hurries to your locker. There you are, going through your books, and Okuyasu's breath catches in his throat at how lovely you look today. It might just be the adrenaline, but he's sure you look more beautiful than you ever have.

Nervously he approaches you, and you spot him before he can greet you himself. "Hey, Okuyasu!" you call, waving with a bright smile. "How's it going?"

"Alright!" he replies, his voice far too loud. "Just the same old, ya know?"

"Same here. I was just waiting to get out of class." You finish with your books and shut your locker, and you turn to him. "So what's up? Do you have any plans later?"

"No," he responds hastily. "Free schedule today. But, uh - " he takes a deep breath " - I did have something I wanted to talk to you about." Your eyes widen, and you smile a little.

"So did I! Yeah, there was something I needed to tell you too." You voice wavers a bit, and Okuyasu feels his heart pound even harder in his chest; are you onto him? Are you trying to shut down his feelings before he can mess up and reveal them? "Do you wanna talk outside? It's a little loud in here."

"Sure! Sounds good!" With a horribly forced laugh, Okuyasu follows you outside and into the school courtyard.

You take a seat on a little bench and Okuyasu plops down next to you. "So... I guess I should just tell you, then," you mumble, your voice totally uncharacteristic.

Sweating, Okuyasu vigorously nods his head. "Sure - well, maybe you'd like me to go first?" he offers; you sound oddly nervous.

You say something in reply, but Okuyasu's so stuck in his own head that he honestly doesn't hear it. He figures that it's now or never - Valentine's Day is dwindling to an end - so he reaches over and pulls his love letter to you out of his bag. After sucking in a deep breath, he turns and presents the envelope to you. "For you!" he announces, eyes squeezed shut, and he hears nothing in response until you start to laugh.

He opens one eye, and he nearly bursts into tears when he sees that you're holding a Valentine's Day gift of your own out to him. He feels laughter bubble up in his chest, and he bursts into laughter, setting the envelope on your lap and leaning back to let out a full belly laugh.

"We - we really both - " you wheeze, clutching your sides as you look up at Okuyasu with grinning, teary eyes. "Holy shit, dude! I can't believe it - " You're taken by another peal of laughter, and the two of you laugh and laugh for what feels like hours.

Finally, the hilarious moment winds down to a close, and you wipe the tears from your eyes. "Oh my God, Okuyasu. I'm so happy." You reach out and take his hands, and he nearly jumps at the contact. "I was praying you felt the same, I really was."

"So was I," he responds, grinning. "I love you, (Y/N), and I'd love to be your Valentine."

You gently raise his hand to your mouth and press a soft kiss to his knuckles. "Of course," you breathe, and Okuyasu is utterly smitten.

For White Day:

To Okuyasu, the greatest gift is something that is made with love. Therefore, he decides that the perfect White Day gift is a homecooked meal! He's been taking cooking lessons with Tonio for a good while, so he's fully equipped with the skills to make you a wonderful meal. He might slip up now and again in the preparation, but that's what makes a dinner cooked from the heart so special.

#my writing #jotaro x reader #okuyasu x reader #josuke x reader #kakyoin x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo imagine #jojo x reader #jotaro kujo #okuyasu nijimura #josuke higashikata #noriaki kakyoin #just barely got this in on valentines day man #happy feb 14th all!

361 notes · View notes