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odyssean-flower · 8 months

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Everything Shall Return to the Sea Chapter 3: We Are Trapped Together in a False Paradise (Yandere! Neuvillette x GN Reader)

how tf did this end up being 2.4k words-

i wrote this instead of sleeping so if it's messy...that's why

This is the third (bonus) chapter of Everything Shall Return to the Sea. Please read that if you want to understand what's going on

tw: dark themes, suicidal thoughts (kind of), mentions of imprisonment, my shitty dialogue

Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

The wavering light overhead was dim and faint, more a memory than anything substantial. And yet you were craning your head towards it with all your might, like a sunflower seeking the sun.

Your arm, despite knowing full well how futile it was, reached up and tried to grasp it in your hands. Of course, nothing except for water slipped through your fingers.

Water–you’ve become so sick of that substance.

You closed your eyes and tried your best to imagine you were somewhere else. Anywhere else. A place where you were surrounded by weightless air. Your small, bare, but familiar apartment. The dull, sterile atmosphere of your job. The cozy and warm house where you met your friends in person for the first time–

That last memory sent a bolt of pain through your head, and you shook your head to get rid of it. Thinking about those people would make you fall into another spiral of depression that you might not ever be able to get out of.

The flickering light above you seemed to dart away, as though it was scared off by the sudden change in your mood. You tried to chase after it, but you couldn’t move from your spot. For a split second, you wondered if there was something weighing down your legs, and then you remembered.

You tried not to look down at the red, glittering appendage that now consisted your entire lower body.

The waters shifted behind you. You knew who was there even before turning around.

“My love, have I not told you over and over again that you must not look up at the surface? You would only strain your neck.”

The deep, smooth voice of Neuvillette, your mate–just thinking about that word made you feel ill– no longer sounded in your head, but reverberated straight into your ears. In some ways, that was a good thing. You didn’t know what you would do if he still spoke into your head.

You ignored his endearment of “my love.” You were in no mood to argue with him today, not to mention how sore your throat still was from your last yelling match with him. Well, it was more like you yelled at him while he simply stared at you blankly with his violet eyes, like it was just another tantrum you were having.

“Don’t you mean that you don’t like it when I do it?” you muttered. You let the unspoken reason hang between the two of you. Because you don’t like me clinging to my past life and rejecting you.

Neuvillette either didn’t hear your mutter or let it pass. His hand circled around your arm. “Come, my love. Let us return. I’ve prepared a wonderful surprise for you.”

You let him lead you by the arm. You were still unused to swimming with a tail and kept lagging behind, but he never hurried you. He only gave you gentle encouragements like “Yes, my dear, keep moving your tail like that” and “You’ve become so much better at swimming in such a short time” and helped you along.

He had been like this during your earliest days as a mermaid as well, when he was teaching you how to swim. Endlessly patient, endlessly understanding. You hated it. You hated the fond look in his eyes as he watched you struggle with the most basic skills that even a mermaid infant could grasp easily. You hated the firm grip of his hands on your shoulders and waist (although you quickly learned to put up with it, compared to the humiliation of crawling in the sand). And you especially hated his warm breath in your ear as he murmured instructions to you.

All of it was a reminder of the fact that you were utterly dependent on him now.

Sometimes, you wished he would just give up on you and leave you drifting in the depths alone. At least that was something you were used to for all your life: depending on yourself because there was no one else. You wondered why he didn’t. Surely even someone like him couldn’t endure constant rejection and hatred from someone he supposedly loved.

You never asked him that question. You didn’t think he would understand anyway.

His long hair billowed out and tickled your back as the two of you swam back to your abode.

Neuvillette’s people were nomadic, but they still had a permanent settlement of interconnected sea caves hidden from human eyes by the dark waters. They were currently staying there because of you.

You had expected to be met with scorn and contempt by the other mermaids for being deadweight, but instead, they treated you with a reverence befitting of a ruler. You were waited on by the other mermaids, your every need attended to before you could even voice it. There were kind smiles, warm gazes, and sincere compliments everywhere you looked. The worst part was, you were pretty sure that they weren’t even ordered by Neuvillette to do those things.

Ever since you were a child, your deepest wish was to be cared for and loved by someone, even if it were just one person. But now that your wish was fulfilled in the worst way possible, you simply wanted to be left alone. Even your previous solitude seemed like a comforting blanket to you now.

You had learned the hard way that mermaids considered the mating bond to be a sacred, inviolable connection. When you begged one of the mermaids to help you escape back to the surface, they had simply stared at you with wide, uncomprehending eyes. “But…are you not Lord Neuvillette’s mate? Why would you ever want to be parted from him?” they asked, as though your kidnapping and forced transformation at his hands were completely irrelevant. They immediately took you to Neuvillette, who proceeded to imprison you in your chambers for what felt like an eternity (the passage of time was so difficult to tell now). That wouldn’t have been so bad, if not for the fact that he chained you to your bed and insisted on taking care of you himself, from brushing your hair to feeding you. He No one else was allowed to see you. He was your sole source of companionship.

After he elicited a promise from you to never even think about escaping again, he unchained you and kissed your bruised wrists.

“I know it’s a difficult adjustment for you, but you must accept the fact that this is your new life now.”

You remember staring up at those violet eyes and feeling white-hot, visceral hatred for the first time in your life.

On your way back to the caves, the two of you were greeted by many mermaids. Even through the filter of your hatred for him, you could still tell that Neuvillette was a respected and well-loved leader.

“Lord Neuvillette and his mate look so lovely together,” you heard one sigh. “I wish I could have a bond like that one day!”

“Me too!” another chimed in. “I’d be happy for the rest of my life if my mate had half of Lord Neuvillette’s devotion. It’s so sad that humans can’t seem to understand it.”

“Oh yes, it’s truly pitiful. I do hope that they will learn soon.”

The gulf of understanding between you and the mermaids never felt more stark to you than now. All of your previous research and animated discussions with your friends seemed naive and silly. These creatures were fundamentally different from you.

You peek up at Neuvillette’s face and was mortified when your eyes met his. They softened, and a gentle smile appeared on his lips. Your stomach churned with a mix of different emotions. Despite everything, he was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

“We’re almost there to your surprise,” he told you. “I’ve been working on it for some time now. I think you’ll love it.”

Sometimes, you wondered if he really believed in what he was saying. Did he really think that this was the best and only way? Did he really believe that he was being kind to you? Did he really believe that you would come to love him?

Neuvillette led you to a round dome of opaque sea glass. There was a watery film set into the dome that appeared to be the door. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, if at all. All you hoped was that he left you alone to your thoughts soon.

You crossed the threshold and gasped at the sight in front of you.

The whole interior was softly illuminated by a wispy light set in a glass orb overhead, like a miniature sun. The ground was covered in swaying verdant green kelp. Colorful corals clustered in neat, stone-lined beds. A sleek, wooden bench was half-hidden under the shades of two rose-red weeping willows, whose branches almost brushed against the ground. Little fish swam amongst the branches like birds. At the center of it all was a white marble statue covered in moss. It must have come from some long-ago shipwreck, for its features and contours were heavily eroded. You could somehow tell, though, that it once depicted someone beautiful.

It was a perfect recreation of the park near your apartment you once frequented, but the underwater version.

You suddenly recalled telling Neuvillette about it during one of your weekly visits. He had taken an unusual interest in it and asked you many detailed questions about it. You had a tough time trying to describe it in a way he would understand, so you brought him pictures on your next visit. The intense way he had pored over them made you laugh and tease him at the time. You remembered even wishing there was a way to bring him there.

“I know that you’ve had a difficult time adapting to your new life,” Neuvillette’s voice brought you back to the present. “And I cannot blame you. Your old life was all you knew, after all, and you cannot help but cling to it. I made this place for you in the hopes that its familiarity would grant you some comfort. Of course, only you and I can enter this place. It will be our little secret refuge away from the world.”

The expectation in his voice made you look up at his face. The hopeful anticipation in his eyes caused something inside you to snap.

“I don’t understand…” you whisper.

“What don’t you understand?” he frowned.

“I don’t understand how you can do all these things. I don’t get how you can kidnap me, force me to transform into a mermaid, take me away from everything I care about, and act like I will inevitably return your feelings. I don’t get it at all! I don’t get why you try so hard to get me to love you, even…even doing all this! Why do you keep on trying, even when you know I will only reject you and hate you? Why? Is it because of that stupid mating bond you and all your people care so much about? Don’t you hate being forced to love someone because of something in your body that you can’t control? Don’t you want to be free of that? Why don’t you just dump me somewhere and find a new mate? I’m sure there’s plenty of mermaids out there who would happily become your mate if you just asked them. Better yet, just kill me! Just kill me and be rid of it all!”

Your words bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and erupted from your mouth in the form of a scream. You had never shouted like this before. You were panting heavily, and the back of your eyes was burning hot. You were probably crying right now, but it had been a long time since you had felt tears on your skin.

Despite it all, you glared up into his eyes, willing your feelings to reach him.

And they did.

Neuvillette’s face was twisted in rage. He looked furious. You had never seen that look on his face before. Your survival instincts, which you long thought were dormant, caused you to back away. I’ve gone too far, you thought. This is it.

Neuvillette’s hand reached out to grab your wrist and pulled you towards him, crushing you against his chest.

“Never say that again,” his voice was a trembling hiss. “Never tell me to kill you, ever again. I would rather give myself up to the humans than lay a finger on you.”

You couldn’t say anything. Not just because he was holding you so tightly, but also because the fierce emotion in his voice took your breath again.

“You ask me why I keeping persisting? Let me ask you a question, then. Why do you keep on clinging to that miserable, hopeless life you led? There’s no one who loves you or sees you for who you truly are. You attach yourself to those so-called friends of yours, who have never done anything for you, and yet you give all you have to them. What’s more, you gave yourself to someone barely knows your soul, deluding yourself into believing that is love. And you ask me why I did what I did?”

His voice was like the rumbling of the earth. It shook you to your core and you could do nothing except listen even as your heart sank. He never understood you at all.

“I have loved you, wanted you, thought only of you since the day we met. I’ve belonged to you, just as you’ve belonged to me, far before the bond snapped into place. The bond only confirms what already exists. Abandoning you, killing you, will be akin to killing me as well.”

You felt Neuvillette’s arm shake around you. It took you a few moments to realize that he was crying as well.

You wondered. What if Neuvillette had confessed his feelings to you normally? Would you have accepted them? Maybe, if it was the old, lonely you, you would have agreed to be with him in a heartbeat. But the you who finally experienced friendship and being cared about?

It was pointless to think about such what-ifs now. Those possibilities had dissolved into seafoam, along with your old life. Or perhaps your old life had been nothing but bubbles on the surface of the water to begin with, and this was the start of your real life.

One thing was for sure: you felt things with Neuvillette that you’ve never felt for anyone before. And you doubted that would change.

In that imitation garden at the bottom of the sea, you tilted your head upward and kissed the man who you were eternally trapped together with.

#neuvillette x reader #yandere neuvillette x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #my works

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fortheloveoffanfic · 1 year

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The Holiday Arrangement

Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: When co-parenting during the holidays becomes difficult to navigate, Y/n brings a proposal to her ex-husband, Andy; spend Christmas together- for the sake of their daughter. Their already complicated arrangement becomes even more messy new memories dredge up buried feelings. Masterlists Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Tensions boil over between Y/n and Andy when she proposes an unconventional arrangement Warnings: Angst

“Outside.”

From just his text, Y/n could tell that Andy was still mad at her. Over the past three days, she'd wasted hours at night thinking about how he'd misconstrued her words- and how it was, at least in part, her fault. She should have clarified that she thought it was good for Grace,

She should have gone with them to the Christmas village.

It wasn't like going with them had meant forgetting about being separated- even if part of her wished it did. She missed it sometimes; him, the life they had together, their family. The first three years after Grace had been born had probably been the best years of Y/n’s life; Andy was thrilled to be a father again, she was an excited first time mother and Grace was a bubbly baby then toddler- they were all so happy. It was hard to believe that things had fallen apart so quickly.

As Y/n descended the stairs, she shook off the pang of emotion that had proded at her chest; remembering what they were in comparison to what they’d become always hurt, but the holidays were making it worse somehow. It might have been because she’d grown used to the way things were or it could have been the fact that even things had started going sour a couple years before she’d filed for divorce, she and Andy had always sought a way to patch things up around Christmas time.

Maybe it was because she could see so clearly that Grace was unhappy.

Andy was just coming up the porch steps, Grace perched on his hip with her head laid on his right shoulder while her bag was hooked on the left one and her stuffed toy was held in his free hand, when Y/n pulled the front door open. "Hey," he mouthed with a tired smile, matching her soft one. "Sorry we're late," he whispered, moving past Y/n as she ushered them inside, shutting the cold out the minute he stepped off the mat.

"Its okay," still maintaining her faint soiree, Y/n relieved Andy of Grace's bag and stuffed toy, “Why don’t you go put her down, I’ll deal with this later.” He nodded, heading upstairs wordlessly.

Determined to iron things out between them, for their daughter's sake above all else, Y/n set Grace’s things down before moving to the kitchen to get a couple wine glasses out of the cupboard and then a bottle of wine out of the integrated refrigerator. She was just fitting the corkscrew to the top- or at least, trying to- when Andy came down again, pausing on the other side of the counter.

“Do you want me to….?” When she glanced up, pausing her clumsy struggle, he was gesturing to the bottle.

Y/n huffed a shaking chuckle, “Thank you.” Gnawing on her lower lip, she slid the bottle across the counter, watching intently as Andy twisted the device into the cork with barely any effort. “See,” she giggled dryly, “This is why I’ve been drinking shitty screw top wine.”

Andy grinned and slowly, Y/n could feel the tension between them melting away, “You could get one of those uh…” He thought on it for a moment as he handed over the bottle so Y/n could pour them each a glass, “The electric ones.”

Before responding, Y/n drew in a sip of her wine, humming contentedly as notes of smokey vanilla and cherry danced on her tongue, “I keep meaning to buy one,” she glanced down into her glass, not knowing how to tell him that she missed when he’d open wine bottles; it always meant that they were about to spend time together. “I just….I’ve got a million things to do-”

“Of course,” Andy nodded awkwardly, “I noticed-”

“I’m sorry-” They spoke in unison, words fumbling and leading to a moment of flustered apologies followed by Andy encouraging her to go first, “Oh, I was just gonna apologize for Wednesday. I didn’t mean to….doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, deciding that there was no use in explaining that she hadn’t meant to hurt his or Grace’s feelings- she had and all she could do was tell him what she had meant and hope he believed her. “I didn’t say ‘no’ because of what’s going on between us,” she punctuated her words with another sip of wine, and Andy mirrored the gesture as he listened, “I just thought that if Gracey saw that she could have a good time with us separately then maybe she’d be more open to the two Christmases thing. And I didn’t want to confuse her….but she’s five and I’m an idiot, so I guess I just hurt her instead.”

Across the counter, Andy sighed and when Y/n set her glass down, pressing her hands to the chilly surface, he rested one of his hands over hers, “You’re not an idiot,” he words prompted her to lift her head and match her shining gaze with his, “You’re a mother who’s trying to do the right thing,” he moistened his lips and gave her hand a squeeze, “I shouldn’t have accused you of being selfish when all you do is put her first. All you’ve ever done is put both of us first….even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Y/n glanced at their joined hands. She didn’t know how to respond to what he’d said, so she attempted to brush it off, “What were you gonna say?” When Andy furrowed his brows, she clarified, “Earlier, you noticed….”

“Oh-Oh!” He pulled his hand away and Y/n tired to pretend that the abrupt end in contact didn’t bother her, “I noticed that you didn’t get the lights hung, did your guy have to reschedule or something?” He questioned causally, taking a drag of red.

She’d almost forgotten that she’d lied about having someone to do it and with that realization came another; she’d forgotten to ask her friends if they had any recommendations. “No, no,” Y/n stuttered, feeling her cheeks go warm, “I um, I lied about that; I didn’t have anyone I just didn’t want it to be weird,” she cringed.

“Well, I offered, so,” he shrugged awkwardly and they paused and after a minute, he added suddenly, “I’ll come over tomorrow-”

“Oh, I don’t want you to go out of your way-”

“It wouldn’t be out of my way,” Andy shrugged again, that time with one shoulder, “Tomorrow afternoon, I’ll be here. Its just lights, Y/n, and I’m happy to do it.”

Y/n hesitated as she studied everything he’d just said; for a moment, he reminded her of the man she’d married- not the one she’d divorced. “Thank you,” she smiled faintly. “Refill?” She offered, off the cuff.

Andy drained his glass and fished through his pockets for his keys, “I probably shouldn’t,” despite his refusal, Y/n thought she saw his expression fall a little, “Gotta drive,” he jingled his keys a little.

“I’ll walk you out,” she rounded the counter, taking her almost empty glass with her. In silence, they strolled towards the front door, and when they reached it, Y/n hesitantly reached for the knob and opened it. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“You will definitely see me tomorrow,” Andy reaffirmed, “Good night Y/n,” a hint of a smile graced his lips, brightening his tired features.

She freed one of her hands so she could reach out and affectionately grip his forearm, “Goodnight Andy.” Then, without thinking, possibly because the moment felt like one out of a happier time, Y/n leaned up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek.

But he turned- or maybe she’d estimated wrong.

Whatever the cause; before either of them could register it, their lips were pressed together and instead of moving to break their accidental kiss, Y/n lifted her hand to his face while Andy laid his on her hip. The thought of pulling away didn’t even come to mind until Andy moved to deepen the endearment- that was when Y/n stepped back with a gasp. “I am so sorry,” her hand, formerly on his cheek, flew to her lips though she swore she could still feel the roughness of his beard on her soft fingers. She’d missed that.

“My fault,” he pointed towards his own chest accusingly, “I shouldn’t have-”

“No, that was totally on me,” a nervous sound escaped her throat, “I was the one that-”

“You know what?” He cut her off, “Doesn’t even matter, it was probably the wine,” or maybe it wasn’t, “And I gotta go,” he gestured towards the door.

“You should do that,” unwittingly, Y/n licked her lips, “Good night, again.”

Andy nodded briskly, stepping outside, under the glow of the yellow porch light, “Yeah, okay, ‘night,” he half waved before turning on his heel and retreating towards his car, parked near the sidewalk. With shaking breaths, Y/n waited until he’d started the car and pulled off before hastily shutting the door only to press her back firmly to the wooden surface. In one long swing, she finished off her wine only to bring her hand to her mouth once more.

She couldn’t believe she’d just done that.

She hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

The next day. Before heading towards the front door, Andy lingered in the security of his car for a handful of minutes longer. He had kissed his ex-wife- or maybe she had kissed him. The specifics didn’t matter. But it did matter that she’d pushed him away when, primarily on muscle memory, he’d moved to deepen the kiss. It had been such an instinctive gesture, and even though they hadn’t kissed in almost a year, being like that with her felt so natural.

He’d missed that. Andy missed his wife, everything they had together.

Fiddling with the bottom of the steering wheel, Andy mulled over his and Y/n’s kiss, and their failed marriage, for a moment more before deciding that it was time to get out of the car. As promised, he’d gotten to her place just after lunch that Sunday afternoon in anticipation of putting up the garland and lights on the roof and windows. It was something he’d been doing since their first Christmas together; she loved decorating and he loved seeing her happy.

Upon reaching the front door, Andy was about to tap the cool surface with his fist when it swung open abruptly. “Hey,” Y/n smiled tightly before inviting him inside.

“Hi,” Andy matched her forced grin and he could easily tell that the awkwardness from the previous night had yet to let up. Swallowing harshly, he rubbed his hand over the side of his face, feeling the roughness of his beard under his worn touch. After the flustered greeting, they lingered in the foyer, fumbling for things to say; it was clear that they were both still thinking about that kiss. Though, Andy wasn’t sure if they were thinking about it in the same way;

Did she regret it? Or did she miss him the way he missed her?

“So the lights,” he disturbed the tense silence, “Do you-”

“Daddy!” Grace’s small voice reached his ears minutes before she bent the corner and came barreling towards him. Andy made it to his knees just in time for her to crash into his chest, only for him to easily scoop her up.

“Hey there Bunny,” he chuckled brightly as he stood again, maintaining his hold on her as he did. “Missed you so much,” Andy peppered her small face with a series of kisses, prompting Grace to giggle loud and wildly.

“That tickles daddy!” She laughed, cupping his face in her tiny hands.

Burying his face in the side of her head, Andy squeezed her affectionately for a moment before rearing his head back a bit, “You smell like cinnamon, what’s my little Gracey up to?”

“We’re making a gingerbread house!” She explained excitedly, and out of the corner of his eye, he noted that Y/n had perked up. “Mommy and I made all the pieces ourselves,” Grace continued proudly. Before he could think to stop it, Andy’s smile faltered; Y/n had been trying to make that a tradition amongst the three of them since Grace turned three and for two years, she’d put it off because he was too busy with work. Now they were doing it without him.

Struggling to maintain his former mood, Andy powered through the strange mixture of guilt and disappointment that had settled in his chest. “That’s awesome, Bunny,” he beamed with feigned vigor, “I can’t wait to see it when you guys are done.” He sent Grace down, and she skipped off towards the kitchen to wait for her mother.

“You guys are making gingerbread houses,” Andy noted, returning his attention to Y/n, whose smile had also faded.

“Yeah,” she hugged her arms, “You know it was something I’ve wanted to do.”

Andy nodded, “Yeah, yeah. I know,” he paused, trying to talk himself out of his next words, “I’m sorry I was such a jerk about it last year….and the year before-”

“Its okay,” Y/n waved dismissively, “I get it; Christmas isn’t your thing,” she shrugged.

“But it is yours,” Andy emphasized. She loved all of it; the decorating, the music, the snow, the movies and the baking. Sure, he’d gone through the motions, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he also wasn’t there for a lot; Grace’s first time seeing Santa Claus, all the times they’d baked cookies together and went shopping. He’d put work in front of them so many times.

“Its okay, promise,” Y/n reaffirmed, “Its over now.”

Over- done, finished, never to be revisited.

Yet another stint of silence was traded and finally, Andy remembered his original reason for being there; the lights and the garland. “I should get started,” he pointed towards the door with his thumb.

“Yeah, right,” Y/n smiled hesitantly, “Well, be careful, you know with the ladder and everything. And its probably slippery up there.”

Andy dismissed her concern with a casual wave, “Ah, I know my way around that roof,” he teased. He was about to say something else when Grace poked her head into the hallway, a smidge of frosting swiped onto her cheek as she excitedly asked if Y/n was coming back. “You should probably…..”

“Definitely,” Y/n laughed softly, starting to walk away, “Oh! The ladder’s where you left it in the garage and I put the lights in there too. Yell if you need me,” she added before turning the corner and waving absently. Andy lingered there long enough to hear Y/n and Grace laughing in the kitchen, if he’d been a better husband, he would have been there too.

Stuffing his hands into the pockets of his coat, Andy shook his head and moved over to the side door that led to the garage; if he’d been a better husband, a lot of things would have been different.

Somewhere between inviting Andy to stay for dinner then a movie and hot cocoa, and lounging on the sofa Grace cuddled between them as Polar Express played on the television, Y/n realized that, like their daughter, she longed for Christmas to be the way it was before. Accepting that her marriage was failing had been tough and their divorce had been heartbreaking, but being reminded of everything they used to be was like a turning blade buried in her chest. She missed everything that came with them being together- taking Grace to the Christmas village together, movie nights, building snowmen and watching Andy show Grace how put out milk and cookies on Christmas Eve night.

It was possible that she’d been missing that even before they’d separated.

The thought made Y/n’s face fall. With a sigh, she shook her head and carried on with tidying the kitchen, occasionally throwing an eye out towards the living room, where both Andy and Grace were caught between dozing off and trying to stay awake for the last thirty minutes of the movie. He was slouched into the corner of the sofa, a throw pillow wedged behind him, one leg sprawled out along the length of the couch while one arm laid draped on the tweed upholstered armrest while the other secured Grace’s small body to his broad, sweater clad chest. It had been nice, she thought, going through the day together without fighting with him, then having dinner together and finally sitting together to watch a movie. If only it could be like that again.

Then it hit her; maybe it could.

Maybe they could go back to some semblance of what they used to be, just for the holidays. The idea sparked a wildfire in her mind and suddenly, it seemed like the perfect solution to their predicament- she just needed to get Andy on board.

Prompted by the excitement of her idea, Y/n began cleaning up a little quicker, and when the movie was through, she caught Andy before he took Grace upstairs, after he graciously offered to get her ready for bed so Y/n could finish up in the kitchen, asking if they could talk before he left. Naturally, he’d obliged promising that it probably wouldn’t take long since Grace seemed all tuckered out.

With haste, Y/n made short work of loading their empty mugs into the dishwasher, along with the rest of dishes from dinner, put the leftovers away and stowed their gingerbread house.

She was just wiping down the counters when Andy returned, that time with a few wet spots on his sweater, presumably from wrangling Grace in and out of the bath, and then to and from the sink to brush her teeth. His eyes were tired and as he dragged himself towards the breakfast bar, so he could retire into a barstool. Upon sitting, he sighed softly and rubbed the area that connected his left shoulder to his neck

“You okay?” She frowned, setting the dish towel aside, “Did you mess up your shoulder again?” It was an old injury, he’d told her he’d gotten it during his short lived college football career, and ever so often, he’d do the wrong thing and aggravate it.

“No,” he winced, though trying his best to hide it, “Just a little stiff,” when she rounded the counter to stand behind him, Andy protested weakly, “You don’t have to-”

“Shh,” she cut him off with sternly, “Call it workman’s comp,” she joked quietly, placing her hands on the top of his shoulders so she could start kneading them soothingly. She’d probably done it a hundred times, sometimes just as a display of affection while he worked at the dining table, other times at night, before bed after he’d spent the day working outside. Every single time, it had felt natural, instinctive even- if the man she loved was in pain, then she was going to do something about it.

That night, it felt natural too, just like old times.

“That feels amazing,” Andy hummed with a gentle sigh, relaxing into her touch. “You know, I got one of those things, those…..massage pillow things- I hate it. Doesn’t do it like you,” he added softly.

“Well, I do know your body,” she commented with a brief laugh, only thinking of how inappropriate it sounded after the careless words had broken air, “That sounded…..wrong.”

Andy chuckled heartily, “Well, technically it isn’t, but I got what you meant,” he sighed again, speaking up after a couple minutes of silence that for once, in a damn long time, felt comfortable. “Maybe we-"

“Can I ask you-”

They both stopped and Andy huffed while Y/n gnawed on her lower lip, “We did it again.”

“Yeah,” she suspired heavily, “Not as in sync as we used to be,” she noted with halfhearted amusement, when really, the comment killed her a little inside. They used to be so in-tune with each other, now it was hard to believe that they’d once been married for seven years.

“What were you gonna ask me?” Andy turned slightly to regard her, and shaking her head, Y/n straightened his head by gently cupping his jaw and shifting his face, “Sorry,” he chortled quietly. In her mind. Y/n almost reprimanded herself for crossing a boundary like that, but quickly realized that it couldn’t have been worse than kissing him and offering to rub his shoulders.

A shuddered breath vacated her bare lips and she attempted to remedy the abrupt onset of nerves. Just ask him. Hesitating for a moment more, Y/n finally relented. “I’ve been thinking……do you wanna…..do you miss the way things were?”

It took a while, but eventually, Andy probed, “What do you mean?”

“Like….Christmas, the way we did things before…..it went bad,” she cringed at her wording, wishing she’d said it differently.

Andy swallowed thickly, “Of course I miss it,” he admitted, almost below his breath, “Don’t you.”

Emitting a sound of acknowledgement, Y/n kept her profession just as low, “I didn’t think I did….but I do,” pausing, she used a minute to gather her courage and rearrange the way she wanted to vocalize her thoughts, “What if we just….went back to that for a while,” her hands, still rubbing into his broad shoulders, slowed down a little so she could properly gauge his reaction.

Even from behind, she could see that his brows were knitted and his lips were turned down in confused frown, “What do you mean?”

There wasn’t anything too definitive behind his words, and Y/n knew him well enough to know that that probably wasn’t a good thing. It meant he was trying to disconnect and think logically- and logic stated that what she was suggesting was unhealthy and maybe even a little selfish. “I mean…..we’d go back to how things were when we were good- mostly. We wouldn’t be together, obviously, but we’d hang out together- with Gracey, of course. You’d spend the holidays here-"

Shrugging off her touch, Andy stood, “You were the one that didn’t want to confuse her.” His jaw was set tightly and his gaze hardened with anger- or maybe it was hurt. “You don’t want to go to a fucking Christmas village with us last week, and now all of a sudden you want me to move back here. That’s pretty fucking confusing to me!” He whisper-yelled, clearly infuriated.

“Keep your voice down,” she gritted; the last thing she wanted was for them to wake Grace with their fight.

“I am not yelling,” he countered, “You just don’t like what I’m saying because you know its true,” he accused pointedly, and Y/n folded her arms and glanced away, towards the darkened window hung over the kitchen sink.

Huffing she shook her head, “You know what? Yeah, its true,” she glanced back at him, eyes ablaze, and the only thing keep her from yelling was their daughter sleeping upstairs, “Its true and I’m selfish-”

“I never said you were selfish-”

“You implied it,” she countered, before he could finish.

Andy scoffed, scrunching his face and shaking his head, “No I did not. I said that you were confusing- which you are,” he licked his lips and scrubbed a hand along his beard, “One minute you want her to be okay with us being divorced the next you want me to move back in here so we can play house. Newsflash Y/n, I never wanted this life,” furiously, he jabbed himself in the chest.

“Yeah, well you didn’t want to admit that there was anything wrong with the one we had either,” clenching her jaw, Y/n dropped her hands, slapping one to the counter while letting the other fall to the side, “You just,” she shook her head, “Nothing is good enough for you; this is exactly what you wanted; the Andew fucking Barber way- paint on a smile and pretend it isn’t falling apart,” she threw her hands up dramatically.

“That’s not what I wanted; its some shitty consolation prize,” planting his hands on his hips, he turned away and retorted a bit further, “And for the record, nothing was wrong with us; I mean, I wasn’t the best but you weren’t really a picnic either. You were stubborn and pessimistic; you were so fucking mad all the time- everything I did was wrong."

Not even wanting to entertain the idea that she might have been wrong too, Y/n stepped towards the living room, putting a bit more space between them. “This from the man that begged me to not go through with the separation,” when the court had first granted them a legal separation, Andy had pleaded with her to reconsider- to him they weren't broken, just a little bend out of shape. Simultaneously though, he didn't want to change anything; Andy was staunchly against therapy and had only offered it towards the very end, though even then, it was just to placate her- it was his last ditch effort to slap duct tape on a sinking boat.

Placing her hand on her chest in what she’d hoped would be a self-soothing gesture, Y/n let out an exasperated breath and allowed her tone to settle with her next words, “Just forget about it,” she swallowed thickly, trying to no cry- the last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad and give in because she was crying. “Forget I asked, I’ll see you Wednesday.”

Nodding stiffly, he grabbed his coat from where it was draped over the back of the stool at the end of the counter, “Yeah,” he agreed, edge of anger still caught in his tone as he set off down the hallway, “Wednesday.”

Tagging: @patzammit @funfickgirl22 @talesofadragon @royalwritersoftheuniverses @what-is-your-plan-today

#chris evans #cevans #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #andy barber #andy barber x you #andy barber x reader #the holiday arrangement

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mithrilbookofmystery · 2 years

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WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE GAY FIREFIGHTERS AREN'T CANON!? AND WHAT DOES A COUCH HAVE TO DO WITH IT??? - from, an outsider who's invested but has no clue what's going on (P.S. I wish you the best with the rest of the season lol)

I MEAN THEY AREN'T CANON 😭 To be quite honest, and I hate to be the one to break this to you, but we don't even know for sure if they're gay 😔

But LONG(ish) story short(ish), there was a scene in the season opener where Buck (gay firefighter A - actually no wait gay firefighter B bc his name is Buck - aka the blond one, if you identify them through that) was complaining to Eddie (gay firefighter A, aka the dark haired one) that Bobby (their captain/also kinda Bucks father figure) wasn't thinking about naming Buck interm Captain while Bobby went on his belated honeymoon (he and his wife got married like 4 seasons ago I think but they've been, like, busy and shit rip in pieces) and he's complaining to Eddie whiLE HE MAKES EDDIE AND CHRISTOPHER (Eddie's son) (also somewhat Buck's son but if I went into that we'd be here literally all day) LASAGNA IN HIS APARTMENT and Chris says "maybe it's because you don't have a couch" while he looks pointedly back at where there is a large empty spot in Bucks living room where a couch should be because Chris is cheeky like that and we love him, and Buck's like "well my last two couches came with girlfriends" because this is true, and then Eddie goes "no, your last two girlfriends came with couches" because this is a much better way of putting things and Eddie's been going to therapy all last season so he knows how to do that now, and then Eddie goes "Taylor (Bucks last girlfriend) left four months ago, you could have replaced that couch by now" while fucking staring Buck down in the eyes in the soul and Buck goes "maybe I'm afraid of choosing the wrong one" and we're not talking about couches anymore we're talking about relationships. Got that? Good.

And then at the end of the episode, Bobby names Hen (who is the actual canon gay firefighter of the show and we do not talk about her enough we should all be talking about her more we love her we stan <3) as the temporary captain and then he goes to talk to Buck about it, and says that he didnt choose Buck because Buck doesn't have enough life experience, and Buck just kinda. Deflates. And goes "is this because I don't have a couch?" And Bobby is SO fucking confused by this god bless and says "Why don't you have a couch???" (as any normal person would ask) and meanwhile Buck is still in the relationship metaphor and goes "I'm afraid of making another mistake" bc Buck relationships are NOTORIOUSLY messy and Bobby sees what's going on because he always does and he talks about how Buck needs to learn to look at what he has in his life now and know that it's good, and he deserves to learn to settle. And then later, in the closing montage (except not bc theres a plot twist at the last second but its about other characters, you dont need to worry about that) there's a clip of Eddie and Chris playing a game together for like. Really no reason?? Like everyone else in the closing montage had Something going on in the episode that needed a few seconds of closure, they really didn't Need to cut back to Eddie and Chris but they did and anyways immediately after that it cuts to Buck as if he was looking at them, or at least he's looking at the table where Eddie and Chris were earlier, and he smiles, Bobby's words about seeing what you have in your life right now in front of you still ringing in our ears and I tell you I GASPED at Bucks little smile, ok? And then he picks up the armchair he's always had and moves it to where the couch used to be and sits down in it. Because he has what he needs right here.

And then another small thing: Buck canonically sleeps on Eddie's couch sometimes. He has done this multiple times in the past. He will likely do it again in the future and the second Eddie asks him to stay over is the day this fandom combusts and explodes

#and the fucking lasagna convo in and of itself #the parallels between buck wanting to be chosen by bobby and also maybe possibly being chosen by eddie. exquisite. im going feral #911 spoilers #911 on fox #buddie #buck 911 #eddie 911 #911 #911 fox

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mirawritesstuff · 9 days

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Untitled Writing Project

I don't even know if this could be considered a writing project. I'll mostly be venting, talking about my life and my experiences. But I guess my goal here is to see if I can even write THAT in an engaging way. I don't know. I don't know what I want to achieve with this. There's no real point in putting my hurt feelings out onto the internet, is there?

Anyways, enough with the rambling. No good writer rambles. I don't think. Do they? What even is a writer? How do you become one? And I don't mean how to get your work published, or how to gain an audience (though I'd LOVE some advice on that). I mean how do you even... start writing? And how do you get better? I've written little blurbs here and there. I wrote some fan fiction on a blog I once ran with some friends. Did some roleplay on internet forums with a friend. But how do I get serious about writing? How do I keep the motivation? How do I keep getting better?

And I know the time old saying, "practice makes perfect", but how do I stick to practicing? And most importantly, how do I find the passion for it? I want to be passionate about writing, but I'm just... not. I try, and I get little spurts of inspiration, and then I crash. I get ideas, scenarios, maybe bits and pieces of a fantasy world. But I don't ever get the passion. It doesn't help that I am very critical of my writing. I just never feel like I'm describing scenarios and emotions properly, and no matter how hard I try to rewrite something, it doesn't sound right.

I was recently watching Bojack Horseman. I'm not finished with it yet but I am at the last season. Diane starts working on her book about... everything. Her life, and things she's passionate about. But she can't sit down and write it. Then eventually, she starts writing something else entirely. A fiction book that's more of a feel-good, fun book for middle schoolers. And I really want to be able to just... Sit down and do something like that. Even if I just get some ideas that get me really passionate and really going on it.

I don't know.

Maybe that was my goal in writing this post. Maybe my goal was that if I wrote long enough, worked long enough on this, then maybe I'd start drifting into a day dream and start writing something else. Something fun. Something interesting.

But Bojack Horseman is a TV show. TV shows aren't real. Diane isn't real. I am not Diane. But I kind of wish I was? Her form of depression really resonated with me, I think. The messy apartment, trash everywhere, wearing the same clothes for weeks. It felt familiar. It felt like a very real depiction of depression. Diane feels like a very real person. She feels like me...

Maybe I need to take a page out of her book and move somewhere. Diane moved to Chicago. I visited Chicago this year. It was a nice trip. I enjoyed it a lot, had fun with my friends... Friends hurt you a lot, sometimes. The move I want to make is somewhere out of the US. I was thinking somewhere in Europe, maybe Greece. Nothing is set in stone yet since I have to get a lot of other aspects in my life together before I can even start the process of getting out of this hell hole. Anyways, I'm rambling again. Circling back to the "friends hurt you a lot" statement, when I told one of my friends that I wanted to move out of the US and was thinking Greece, he wasn't very supportive. He was shooting down everything I was saying.

He said things along the lines of, "It isn't that bad here", "The rest of the world thinks we're shit heads, they don't want you there", and just completely invalidating my experiences as a queer woman in the US. And it made me feel shitty. I love my friend, dearly. He's otherwise been a really good friend to me, but this specific instance really hurt me a lot. I hope I can get over this. I don't want to lose him as a friend. But he hasn't even apologized. Or reached out. And that makes me feel worse.

Maybe I shouldn't put personal business out on the internet. But in a way, venting and putting it out into the open is oddly cathartic? Maybe I should start a real blog. I dunno. Maybe this is what I should do with my blog. I don't think maybe people will read this, but maybe it'll be therapeutic.

Another part of Bojack Horseman that really resonated with me was the episode where his mom died. My mom is still alive, but his eulogy about his mom really resonated with me. Maybe I'll save the mommy issues for the next post, this post is getting long enough as is.

Thank you, for reading.

#writeblr #authors of tumblr #free writing #thoughts #rant #ramblings #oh well #idk

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supernovaa-remnant · 5 months

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humans are really really complicated. so are interpersonal relationships. they're really messy, too.

and, I know this. of course I know this. and it's such a fun topic to explore in literature and fiction. to write and read about. the little nuances and sharp edges to people and their connections.

but, it's really really messy in real life. it's something I love to explore in narratives (I love to explore many things in narratives, to be honest), but when it comes to reality, I find myself more.. confounded.

there's a purpose to messy relationships in fiction. there's a purpose to everything in a story, and that gives it a sense of order. in reality, though, it just.. happens. it's just a fact of life.

people are unique individuals who have their own sets of morals and beliefs and will, inevitably, have their own moments of hypocrisy. and this will mean that they will never perfectly wholly agree with every aspect of another's beliefs, I think. sometimes it's simpler—little disagreements of food or other preferences. sometimes it's bigger.

and people clash. and people all have their own reality. their own perceptions of the world. their own perceptions of each other. and everyone has their own wants and needs and desires and ideas of how the future should be how they want their future to be. and that clashes. sometimes it clashes with people they love.

what do you do? what if it's something big? do you use an act of hypocrisy and go against your own morals? do you drop the friend all together? do you try to find middle ground? and your answer to these questions would change depending on the circumstance. which friend? what was the disagreement? which morals are brought into question? what if they don't agree to the middle ground?

I've softblocked people for putting neg posts abt my interests on my fyp on instagram. but I wasn't that close to them. I used to be, but years upon years stretch in between. so much can change. another person put that same kind of neg on my fyp. she's a new connection. less close, but still tangible in my real life. she lives in the same building as me. I scroll past the posts she's liked and do nothing about it.

I have friends who dislike people I like. if they were practically strangers who followed me on instagram, maybe I'd softblock them, too. but they're not. I love them. I've loved them for years. I will continue to love them. some random youtuber I've never met won't change that.

and they also respect my interest. respect my view point. their reasons for dislike aren't that harsh, anyway. but even if they were, I love them. I'd stay friends. it's normal to have disagreements like that. it's easy. it's part of being human.

if you had a friend who continually cheated on their partners, what would you do? that's far more extreme than a difference in opinion about some person neither of you know. cheating is a serious thing. it's a hurtful thing. what do you do? do you bite your tongue? do you warn their future partners of their tendencies? do you cut them out of your life?

that seems specific. it's not something applied to me. it's something I'm.. observing, you could say. I used to know her well. as really young children. again as middle schoolers. we grew apart in our high school years and went to separate universities.

she wished me happy birthday on instagram.

my sister has gotten closer to her again. it baffles me, a bit, how easily my sister talks about this once-mutual friend cheating on her most recent boyfriend. maybe I'm not involved enough to understand. maybe I don't quite grasp humanity to understand. why not bring it up? why not talk about it? why not do something about it? especially if it goes against your own morals so clearly.

people are confusing. confounding. muddled and messy and imperfect. and I think sometimes I get too stuck in viewing things as a narrative. narratives are easy, you see. they're easy to craft easy to understand. they exist adjacent to reality, and that's a space I find myself inhabiting quite a lot.

my close friends are good people. they wouldn't cheat. they wouldn't kill. one has stolen from a big corporation once (tentatively on accident?) but, to be fair, it was very funny and led to an inside joke between the entire group.

we have differences of opinion on the death penalty, I think. prison, too. those are pretty big moral standings. and, yet, there's still an air of separation. what will us talking through it in the late hours of the night in our friend's media room really impact? going back and forth with all sorts of deep philosophical and moral debates is just something we do.

but what if they hurt someone? well, everyone hurts someone. everyone hurts people. it's inevitable. it's part of being human. we're all just accidentally stepping on toes and apologizing and doing our best to navigate it all.

what if they hurt someone on purpose? they wouldn't. I know them. they wouldn't.

but that's not the point. the point is to question how far can my own morality can stretch for the people I love. it's messy. it's confusing. maybe it's hypocritical.

humans are messy. and we like to place clean cut blame when we get hurt. but we also hurt others. and sometimes it's viscous and the anger is a defense from the pain.

we played a game. truth or dare. is there anyone you'd stop being friends with if it wouldn't cause drama within a friend group? no. sometimes they feel like they don't want to be friends with someone at that moment, but not permanently. it's interesting. it's fascinating. it's something I want to reach out to grab, to examine.

I'm not sure I fully understand it. I think I do. some days. sometimes. maybe I've felt it myself.

humans are really really messy. we hurt and get hurt and we're all just trying to make it through this okay and with connections. it's easy to exist in a vacuum. it's more complicated when other people come into play. but it's so so important, I think. it's just part of being human.

#long post #sorry I've been left alone with my own thoughts a bit too much ever since my headphones died #also not sure if this made any sense #I was rambling in my mind whilst playing mc parkour #so I came to do the rambling here instead #I'm not sure if I fully finished any thoughts #but it's stuff I've been thinking about #stella rambles #stella contemplates #<- yeah that's a fun tag I think #will be for my long philosophical posts

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fakeosirian · 1 year

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it's my duty as your house of anubis mutual to ask you about patricia and eddie (for the ship bingo)

BLESS YOU BELOVED MUTUAL if i can rely on anything in this world. it's this <3

FIRST ACTUAL BINGO BABEY (and arguably there are more squares that depending on what i'm doing with them i could say are true that would make at least one more bingo but i reigned myself in a bit LOL)

peddie is so flexible in vibes?? i love that you can take their relationship in multiple different directions and it's still totally legit/within their range because there really is That Much to do with them (depending on the level of tragedy you want to milk out of them/what point in the show you're talking about/how much you want a happy ending for them) while it still feeling like their very specific brand/within their characterization

in my view (and this may be unpopular? idk) the only thing keeping them together by the end of the show is sheer force of will to not let go of their relationship because its just. A Thing They Need To Keep Doing. even if it hurts. literally everything around them (not just the plot tho that is too lol) is a huge neon sign saying BREAK UP PLEASE GOD. now dont get me wrong they absolutely are compatible, but there's so much about them that isn't re: small things that get in the way that become big things, sometimes incidental/situational and sometimes genuine incompatibilities, that they have to put a LOT of effort in to keep from flying apart by default. that's not a diss/not me saying i don't like them together -- tbh two people that are that devoted despite The Agonies is fascinating esp in the context of season 3b -- but more that they're SOOOO flexible narratively/thematically as a dramatic pairing and i love them for it + they are one of the few ships i genuinely enjoy breaking up/getting back together/breaking up/getting back together ad infinitum in my imagination LOL

definitely unpopular opinion is i don't see them working as a long term couple post-show? (or at the very least they break up For Realz/get different partners/maybe get back together later in life but as far as they know at that point they're done) like ok i enjoy the fics ive read + headcanons that keep them together A LOT but in my heart of hearts...my peddie breaks up dramatically, makes up after a lengthy period of Not Talking and causing hijinks and shenanigans for those around them, and then become the type of incredibly close friends you can only be if you have a very overdramatic romantic past LOL like new partners need to be "approved by [patricia/eddie]" "who is that? your sibling? "ew no of course not. it's my ex" "?????"

expanding on that: i don't really have a "preferred ship" to replace them with (i know i have specific non-peddie ships for them lined up in my fic but those are for the circumstances of That Fic specifically and not necessarily my ideal pairings for them) all i know is i like them when they're messy because they're sooooo good when they finally get catharsis (esp when it's not in the way they're expecting as two people who expect the worst from life and preemptively react accordingly, thus reinforcing the bad things they expect more often than not)

the irony of that is i kind of find it tedious sometimes in the actual show when they're being messy and enjoy their functional romance scenes the most but tbh it's mostly because they get stuck in cycles of being the same type of messy ('explainable misunderstanding #9387982734' i'm looking at you. Sorry) the toxicity is at its best when it's Fresh

inherent eroticism of attempted murder being ? is for 3b but the more i think about it the more i wish i had just full-on colored it in because it really is them even when there isn't possession involved actually LMAO

cursed thing i realized: this may be one of the very few totally legit enemies to lovers ships ive actively gotten into and written content for. i'm usually a friends to lovers pining and yearning enjoyer (if that wasn't obvious already) or, if there's antagonism there, prefers rivals to lovers but peddie....peddie hits

anyway closing thoughts they are highly entertaining and of all of the hoa ships i've spent a significant amount of time thinking about/writing for, probably the most versatile/fun to do things with and have the widest range/mileage? not a ship to be comforted with but a ship to challenge me creatively LOL especially since outside of hoa, if i have strong feelings on ships in a given fandom, i tend to get very. rigid and picky with what ships i like/what i don't (ie. i like despite the horrors of Having Conflict in the Narrative for my ships to have happy endings and tend to avoid ones that have fundamental incompatibilities that would most likely result in a breakup) and peddie is what i have to thank for Opening My Mind to that tbh

#thankfullynotaredshirt #answered #tysm!!! coincidentally ive been thinking about them a lot/considering making a post since i've been getting to the point in foyf where #they actually will be breaking up soon (probs not for another few chapters at least but its on the horizon) so this was a good way to do it #that doesnt feel like im trying to discourse or something LOL #hoa

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erodasfishtacos · 3 years

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Cheating!h blurb where ana asks why they dont have sex or at a party and she’s trying to pull him into a room and y/n watching him try to make excuses and then next time having sex with y/n he says anna keeps trying and she has the pride he doesnt give in... or something exploring that situation

warnings: smut, cheating, angst

“Anna, I just-“ Harry huffs as she tugs him into a spare bedroom of the party after he had put up a valiant fight to keep them in the main area.

Her hands are unbuttoning his already barely buttoned shirt, running down his bare skin, and he is cut off by a sloppy kiss to his mouth.

Fear shoots up through him, it’s not YN, he doesn’t want this with her.

“C’mon, it’s been almost six months and you still haven’t touched me. Just fuck me,” Anna complains, fed up with the lack of or more like nonexsistence of their sex life.

It was near impossible to believe, someone like Harry who oozed sex out of every pore of his body wasn’t sexually active or interested in fucking his girlfriend.

When Anna takes a different approach of going for his belt buckle, mouth trailing against his collarbone, and attempting to get to his groin - which hadn’t hardened in the slightest.

“Enough,” Harry states firmly, grasping her wrists lightly and making her look at him, “I don’t want to have sex right now, okay?”

His girlfriend’s face falters, “You never want to.”

“If you don’t like it break up with me,” He hisses, knowing YN is going to get suspicious the longer they’re in a room together.

Anna, who really did have a kind heart, frowns, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything. I would never force you to.”

Harry just rebuttons his shirt, “S’fine. Let’s just get back to the party and have a good time, yeah?”

She nods as Harry swings his arm around her shoulder, unlocking the door, and pausing when he sees YN a bit of the ways down the corridor - staring at the two leaving the bedroom.

“I’m going to get a drink,” He dismisses bluntly, his focus set on the girl who was visible angry with him in the kitchen.

Before he can get out a word, she steps forward and swipes her thumb against his collarbone.

It comes back with the waxy substance of Anna’s bright mauve lipstick.

“Have fun in there, did you?” YN asks, she tries to keep her tone cool and unbothered by Harry sees right through it to the insecurity.

“You know I didn’t,” He replies between gritted teeth, how could she get jealous when this was all her?

He didn’t want a girlfriend.

Well he did but he only want her and she fucking knew that.

“If you wanted me to believe you, maybe you would have wiped her lipstick marks from your neck and chest,” She chuckles and it makes Harry’s hair on the back of his neck stand up.

It was the distinct chuckle and tone she used when she was upset but wasn’t going to admit it over her dead body.

Before he can call her out, she shoulders past him, disappearing into the dancing crowd of people and out of his side.

“Fuck,” He mutters, running a hand through his hair before trudging off to find Niall and Zayn - to distract himself.

“Stay the night, please?” Anna asks softly when Harry pulls up to her small, quaint little house that fit her perfectly.

“M’sorry. I have a long day tomorrow.”

It was a lie. It was rarer that he told the truth to his girlfriend than fibbing.

“So? Let’s cuddle, do something,” She begs, frustrated with her emotionally and sometimes physically distant boyfriend.

Harry shakes his head, “Maybe next weekend.”

He always said that.

It never happened.

—

As soon as he drops off Anna, his next stop is a route that is ingrained in his head front and backwards, her apartment.

He has a key, doesn’t bother knocking and just barges into the dimly lit house with her shoes tossed clumsily on the floor - almost trips.

When he finds her, she’s in a towel - freshly showered, and brushing through her hair in her small walk-in closet.

She heard him come in, knew he was storming in here, and still didn’t turn around when he slammed open her bedroom door.

He’s crowding behind her, knocking the brush out of her hand, and pinning her to the wall, “You’re so bloody ridiculous. You jealous little brat.”

YN doesn’t respond, her body still wound tight with tension and a gluttonous feeling of rage for earlier in the night.

“Been fuckin’ you and only you since I was seventeen. Y’know that I didn’t fuck her, didn’t even touch her and you still have the nerve to act like a crybaby,” Harry seethes, his whole chest pressed against her back, no room to escape.

“Her lipstick was all over you,” She argues back weakly when his hands come to the knot in her towel, teasing at unraveling.

“Yeah because she was begging me to fuck her and I said ‘no’ so she tried to get in my pants and I pushed her off.”

“Why?” YN murmurs, quiet in the small space.

“You fuckin’ know why,” Harry growls with his teeth grazing across her bare shoulder blade.

“Say it.”

“I pushed her off ‘cause you’re the only person I’ve fucked since I was seventeen. My cock is yours,” He rasps, untying the knot and letting the towel drop.

He wishes she would just end all this bullshit.

Let him have her fully and completely but she was so fucking afraid of getting hurt when it wouldn’t happen.

“Go on, tell me who owns this cunt,” Harry demands, hand tucking between her thick thighs to cup her puffy mound in his hand.

“H,” She whimpers as his finger lightly slides up the wet groove of her center with a careful drag.

When she doesn’t give him the answer he wants, he gives her clit a hard pinch, “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yours, fuck - it’s yours,” YN huffs at the slight but welcome pain on her nerves - relaxing when it returns to soft strokes.

“Anna is pretty, y’know? Had her on me, kissing my neck, unbuttoning my shirt and shit,” Harry hums against her ear, two fingers sinking into the tight heat of her body.

He continues, “Didn’t even get hard when that happened. That’s how fucking trained I am for you. What a tight fucking leash you have me on.”

YN turns a bit into putty at his words, insecurity slow flooding out of her body, and feeling more like how she usually does.

“How do y’ever forget? How much I love you?” He asks in true disbelief, it literally oozes through his pores how much he adores his high school sweetheart.

“Don’t-“ She squeaks desperately.

“Why won’t you let me tell you how much I love you, baby?”

His voice like dark, sweet honey that seeps into her every nerve-ending and makes her feel lethargic, in a boneless silky way.

“Stop plea- Just touch me,” YN begs when his fingers crook into against her plushy, tight walls with focused strokes.

“You need to admit it, y’stubborn little thing. I know how in love you are with me,” Harry pushes, needing to hear validation from his favorite person on this earth.

He squats down, spreading her cheeks, and leaning in to lick from the top of clit all the way back to her other entrance.

His large palms keeping her apart, digging into the thick skin until his fingers are white - tongue finding her core and darting in to her most sensitive area.

“H, oh my god,” YN moans, head falling forward against the wall, pushing her hips backward into his mouth.

“Darling, c’mon. Show me how sweet y’can be f’me,” Harry goads encouragingly, it always took a little bit of effort to get her to break.

“I love you….s’much,” She whispers, voice cracking on the last syllable as he rewards her with a suckling kiss to her clit and slips his fingers back in.

“I know y’do, baby. You know I’d never give it to anyone but you,” Harry coos, anything to get her to soften her harsh edges, chip away at her stone wall.

Her hand reaches behind to weave through his hair, her stomach sucking in harshly as she feels her tight band snap as she releases.

“O-oh, you’re mine. Y’mine,” His love chants as she rides out her intense wave of her orgasm as he helps her through it.

“M’yours,” Harry agrees immediately, standing up and a smile breaks on his face when she turns around and wraps him into a hug.

“I love you. I know you didn’t touch her. I just hate it,” YN murmurs softly, undoing his shirt and sliding it off of his shoulders.

His smile fades at her words, “Then make it stop. The minute you tell me you’re ready to make this work, I’ll break up with her.”

“I’m no-not ready,” She stammers, eyes widening like a deer in headlights at his words.

So afraid. So fucking scared.

“Okay, okay,” He soothes when he sees her chest start to rise faster and faster with anxiety.

He doesn’t want to drop it.

He wants to shake her and ask her how the fuck she doesn’t see that they’re already in a relationship and she’s being blinded by irrational fears.

Harry waddles them over to her messy bed, pushing her back and adjusting until she’s in the center - staring at him with doe eyes.

He loves her so much it hurts to look at her for too long.

When he tugs off his jeans, taking his phone out to put on the side table - he sees an unread text from Anna.

I’m sorry about earlier. I really want to make it work with you. You’re a great guy x

Harry should feel bad. Maybe his stomach should have dropped or something at how awful he’s being to that girl.

But when his love is splayed out, pliant and malleable for him, he can’t find an ounce of fucks to give as he tosses it on the bedside table.

He had been in love with this girl since he was sixteen, never fell out of it, he was addicted to her - willing to go through all this bullshit if it meant he had her.

It always felt like the first time, crawling on top of her, and bending down to pull her puffy lips into a strong kiss as he slides in, always a pleasant stretch.

As they move together, in a familiar rhythm, she murmurs against his lips, “One day, I’ll be ready.”

“Please, make it soon, darlin’,” Harry pleas, swallowing harshly before pushing his emotions into hard, deep thrusts.

#cheating!harry masterlist #cheating!harry #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles x yn #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles #Harry styles smut #Harry styles angst #Harry styles au #cheating!Harry blurb #blurb

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voidmadisonrecs · 3 years

Text

chris evans recs

these are more for me then anyone else but here are my fav chris evans (and co.) fics, blurbs, headcanons, etc.

feel free to message or comment with suggestions that i should read and make sure to check out these writers other works because they are all amazing <3

Chris Evans

butterflies - @chanelfaerie

chris has got butterflies for you—do you feel the same?

pop the questions - @angelkurenai

you are costars and in a relationship with Chris and while on the set of ‘Gifted’, you are very clingy. when Chris sees you interact with your youngest costar, he realizes you would make a great mother

white - @agentofbarnes

chris can’t seem to function while seeing you in a white dress

ask me properly - @twittytelly

while spending time with his family, chris realizes that it's the perfect time to put his 'plan' into action

red carpet w/ chris - @avenging-fandoms

your chris’s costar with Chris and you’re both tipsy in a red carpet interview and giggling together, making no sense but just being all happy and sparking dating rumours

happy goddamn new year - @fluffymisha97

the morning after your new year with the evans’ which doesn’t go all that smooth

sweet creature - @buckyhoney

domestic shit

ass man headcanon - @agentofbarnes

chris evans sure does love ass

and then he came along - @teebarnes

you haven't had the best record when it comes to relationships, you thought you couldn't be loved. until one day as you sat on the beach shivering, everything changed when chris came along

granola bar and lots of love - @planetofawe

with the kids away, you and chris have more than enough time to practice some aftercare (smut)

claim - @cloudystevie

your husband puts a baby in you (smut)

beer gut - @violetlilysunshine

chris gets self conscious after gaining a little bit of weight and not working out as hard as he used to during his Marvel days (smut)

dumb - @agentofbarnes

chris evans makes you dumb and you are a little touchstarved (smut)

red, white, blue’s in the sky, summer’s in the air, baby heaven’s in your eyes - @cloudystevie

sunday’s are for football games and attention (smut)

the big 4-0 - @rocketrhap3000

chris being insecure for his 40th bday but reader makes sure he knows just how much she loves him (smut)

my girl - @punani

chris loves calling you his girl (smut)

the fluffer (masterlist) - @punani

it’s the 70′s and the erotic videos industry is experiencing another boom after the risen popularity in the previous decade. the studio’s are hot, gemini flanagan is a brand, and you’re a newly hired assistant at shaggin’ studios. chris takes a liking to you, altering your job description so that you get to work more closely with him. is this all just physical, or is there something more? (smut)

wedding shenanigans - @flowerbouquet

in which you and chris have a sneaky fuck in the bathroom during your best friends wedding (smut)

grocery run - @bucksfucks

innocently wearing chris’ shirt leads to you finding out just how much he can’t resist you (smut)

chain - @bucksfucks

chris tells you to bite down on his chain (smut)

home late (part 2) - @violetlilysunshine

smuttttttt

severance - @punani

the divorce process with chris is messy, seemingly never ending, and ultimately: heartbreaking. you had to be strong for your son, yourself, and eventually you wanted someone else to be strong for you, so, it seemed only natural that you would venture into the arms of another. however, sometimes the line between something officially ending or simply taking a break blurs when you’ve known someone for longer than you can remember (smut/baby fever/ex!reader)

so beautiful to me - @uprootbasic

despite being broken up and coparenting, chris still want to show you how much he loves you (smut/baby fever)

sundress season - @jurassicbarnes

in which all it takes is a pretty little dress to break his resolve (ex!reader/smut/baby fever)

mwah - @iguessweallcrazyithinktho

ur little bubba is obsessed with kissys and keeps leaning in to kiss you (baby fever)

long hair lover - @iguessweallcrazyithinktho

chris comes back from filming red sea diving resort and his baby daughter is crazy in love with his long hair (baby fever)

slobbery kisses - @iguessweallcrazyithinktho

chris wakes up to sloppy kisses by his baby (baby fever)

baby rose - @fluffymisha97

reader and chris had a little baby girl. but not everything is going that well, you're both trying to navigate life as new parents (baby fever)

eve - @kiwisomething

you drop your son off with his father and he invites you in (baby fever/ex!chris)

parenting is hard blurb - @lokiscu

chris and the reader have just had a baby and the lack of sleep mixed with lack of physical affection and time they have with one another gets to both of them and they end up fighting because of the stress (baby fever)

isla - @uprootbasic

the reader is a famous singer and always sings to her little girl. one night, chris and the reader decides to have this little jamming session with their baby. chris plays the piano while the reader sings I wanna hold your hand by the Beatles (baby fever)

the neighbours lights - @lokiscu

it’s your first Christmas with a baby (baby fever)

paparazzi - @ozarkthedog

chris evans and reader are both famous and one day they are out with their daughter when paparazzi start to follow them (baby fever)

thunder - @worksby-d

your daughter is scared of the thunder (baby fever)

she’s the one - @worksby-d

chris x singlemom!reader masterlist (baby fever)

protective stepdad chris x single!reader - @worksby-d

masterlist (baby fever)

truth be told - @kthynes

chris finds out he has a 6 month old baby because his partner didn’t have the chance to tell him that she is pregnant because they broke up (angsty??/baby fever)

not her - @agentofbarnes

chris wants a family and you just aren’t ready yet, but that doesn’t mean he wants you any less (angsty?)

the love we have - @kthynes

the reader is chris's ex wife and she's about to be married again to a guy she doesn't really love. so in the night of her bachelorette party she's really drunk and she ended up going to his apartment and tell him that she still loves him and that she wants to hate him because he was the one who file for divorce but she can't, then she leaves. on the day of the ceremony their 10 year old kid tells Chris that he should go after her before is too late (angsty??)

Frank Adler

i ruined our sweet tune - @rodrikstark

the last person you’d expect to see in florida is the hot professor from your undergrad philosophy class

buttons - @rodrikstark

buttoning franks shirt headcanon

waffles - @amylillian22

the morning after their usual saturday date night, y/n runs into mary unexpectedly. frank wakes up to find them making waffles

remember - @sweater-daddiesdumbdork

frank wakes you up at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am and will not even tell you why

breeding kink - @stargazingfangirl18

as the hot single dad everyone wants to get with, frank turns a few heads at back to school night, and well, you may get a little possessive (smut)

magic demeanor - @bloodiedskirtts

after moving back to Florida in the middle of a heat wave, things seem to be getting worse and worse. the only thing to make her days any better is her neighbour, Frank. with neither of them willing to admit that they can’t get enough of each other, a pesky shower malfunction may be the only way for them to tell each other how they feel (smut)

Ransom Drysdale

2:27 am - @cloudystevie

it’s 2:27 in the morning when ransom shows up at your doorstep, and he wishes he could tell you why

cold (third part of his return) - @kiwisomething

hugh is cold sleeping on the couch by himself

new man - @worksby-d

ransom loves to pretend he’s not whipped for you, but here he is letting you do your skin care routine on him

morning dew - @agentofbarnes

it was only supposed to be one night, but ransom can’t seem to get you out of his head (smut)

Andy Barber

the proposal - @fairyevans

andy takes the reader on a gorgeous vacation but everything goes wrong except the proposal

consequences - @stargazingfangirl18

life after your breakup with ransom (smut)

yes, mrs barber - @jurassicbarnes

in which you’re down on your knees, about to suck his dick within an inch of his life because it was the only way to shut him up (smut)

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boom-bakugou · 4 years

Text

‘Wedding Crashers’ - Katsuki Bakugou

A/N: Sorry for my inactivity but here’s a little sorry and thank you present for me hitting 1k! I love you all sm <3

Pairings: Pro Hero!Bakugou x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, ooc deku; but it’s more of a headcanon, semi-public sex

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend Izuku Midoriya inviting you to his wedding is a definite stab in yours and Katsuki Bakugou’s backs. But you’ll show him.

Word Count: 5k

masterlist

You had considered your morning to be relatively normal, breakfast not burnt, coffee just that right amount of bitter to stir you awake. But those happy moments of peaceful bliss were soon to be fleeting as your mail arrived. Sifting through the pile to what you assumed would be bank statements and bills; your fingers landed on a cream white envelope. Your name printed neatly in a cursive font that when you followed it with your eyes for too long it almost made you want to puke. Tearing it open haphazardly, you read the perfumed content inside.

‘Dear Y/N Y/LN,

We are very proud to invite you to the blah blah blah wedding of pro hero blah blah Izuku Midoriya and blah blah blah.

RSVP blah-‘

Wait what? The taste in your mouth was pitiful. Yes, you and Izuku had dated years prior and after being childhood friends, yet it didn’t end… swimmingly. But this didn’t feel like inviting a childhood friend to your happiest day, no, this felt like a backhanded swipe at your ex-girlfriend who was well known to the media to be single. Pro-Hero gossip magazines made sure of that.

Throwing the invitation onto your countertop, your eyebrows furrowed with spite. You felt weak almost, watching your ex-best friend grow up to be this bountiful hero with merch in every store that you went to. Though you had triumphed well in the hero charts yourself, nothing ever seemed to compare to him. The golden boy. You never really got over the fact that he ended things because being a single hero was more postable than one who was tied down. Until now. Mr. Big shot getting married. It really made you question your integrity,

Recuperating your thoughts, you realised your phone was buzzing on the couch next to you. Checking to see the influx of text messages, you saw Katsuki Bakugou’s name fill up your lockscreen with notifications.

Bakugou: tell me you got the stupid fuckin invite too

Bakugou: the nerve that nerd still fuckin has

Bakugou: inviting his childhood ‘friends’ after all this time

Bakugou: tch, one big publicity stunt if you ask me

You chuckle as you scroll through the messages, gladly knowing that you weren’t the only one feeling this way.

Y/N: so what’re we going to do about it?

Bakugou: what do you mean?

Y/N: well we can’t show him up at his own wedding but we can sure stir something of our own

Bakugou: well that idiot is marrying some nobody extra

Bakugou: probably to show how ‘great’ he is

Bakugou: so how about if two top pro heroes rsvp’d together?

Y/N: you mean us?

Bakugou: no, midnight and grape juice. of course us you idiot

The idea brewed in your head for a moment. Izuku had always been nice when he was younger, and Katsuki hadn’t exactly been the nicest towards him in return. You were always the mediator in those situations. However when Deku grew and grew in the hero charts he started to lose touch with reality. Not really remembering what being a hero was about besides having his face stuck on a lunch box and raking in the dough for it. It was sad. You didn’t know who he was anymore.

Y/N: fuck it, i’m in

“You know, don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a tux before.” You chuckle, arm linked around Bakugou’s as you stepped out of the chauffeured car together. You were here to make a scene. Paparazzi glistened everywhere like a moth to a candle flame. You couldn’t wait for the tabloids in all honesty.

“Shut up.” Bakugou grumbled, almost in embarrassment. But his smile didn’t show a hint of it. “Not looking too bad yourself.”

You had coordinated well. Your maroon dress flowed in the gentle summer breeze and matched perfectly to Bakugou’s equally coloured tux. You two were such a pair it was nigh impossible to not think that you two were together today. And the paparazzi made sure of that indefinitely.

You couldn’t lie about how the service was beautiful, because it was. However you didn’t need to hear the shutter clicks of a camera go off every few words they spoke. It was distracting, and you and Bakugou shared a glance each time it occurred. Stifling a giggle, you hoped no camera would pick that up. Even if they did, they’d probably pin it to ‘look at these other heroes wishing that they were the next to get married!’ they’d eat that shit uplike ambrosia.

“Can’t wait to see the reception.” You mumbled towards Bakugou, your plastic smiles never fading for the cameras. Izuku making a show of himself and his new bride.

Watching him was almost bittersweet. The happy memories of you three as children flashing behind your eyes. Now replaced with a fame hungry number one hero. Where had all the time gone?

“What’s got you so perplexed?” Katsuki asked, filtering your way through the crowd, making your way to the cars that would deliver you all to the reception.

“Just-“ You sigh, allowing the cover of other heroes to hide you from the all seeing eyes of the paparazzi. “I miss him, y’know? Miss how we used to be.”

“Tch.” Bakugou didn’t care about the scowl present on his face, your words ate him up like some sort of bacteria. “Thought you said that he was the most selfish guy you’d ever dated?”

“He was but like-” You watched Izuku’s back as he held his new partner’s hand. Waving to the cameras and not watching her, as lovely as she looked in her wedding gown. “As weird as it sounds, I sometimes miss high school.”

Bakugou’s eyes scanned your face, following your eyesight to Midoriya. Fucking extra. The thoughts swam around his head, polluting his mind. He knew Izuku’s break up with you had been a massive toll on your mental health and your ego. He made you think that you weren’t good enough for him, and Bakugou never got over that fact. How could he pass up on you for anything else?

Breaking apart from the conglomerative of wedding-goers, Bakugou lead you to one of the specially hired cars to take the guests to the reception. Despite Bakugou’s abrasive and rough nature, you couldn’t help but notice how delicately he held your hand. Not tugging you along or haphazardly grabbing you by your wrist, making you follow him. No, his fingers interlaced with yours and you felt the coarseness of his palms due to the explosive nature of his quirk.

“Katsu?”

“Hm?”

“You can let go of my hand now, we’re in the car.”

“Yeah- whatever.”

Catching up in the car, you both realise how little time you have to actually spend with each other. Though you and Bakugou communicate 1000 times more than you do with Midoriya, heroing keeps you both busy. No times like these to goof off and be with each other. You missed it, you missed your hot-headed idiot friend.

“Hope there’s less fuckin’ paparazzi here. Think I’m gonna go blind with those extras pointing them in my face.” Bakugou rolled down the tinted window a smidge to watch as the car drove into an old looking manor hall where guests had already begun to arrive.

Flowers decorated the ground and just as you two got your hopes up, you saw a line of paparazzi at each side of the staircase leading to the double-doored entrance.

“Well, it was worth a try.” You remark to him, patting his back as you chuckled to him.

Bakugou was the first to exit, standing beside the door so he could reach for your hand to help you out while you fixed your dress. Just as the two of you began to reach for each other's arms to walk into the reception together; there was a brusque tug to your dress. Upon further inspection, a member of the shutterbugs had stood on a long section of your dress. Allowing himself to get pictures of it stretched out and flowy.

“Hey!” Bakugou didn’t waste time on pushing him off the tail end of the dress. “Try anything funny like that again with my girl and say goodbye to that shitty camera of yours!”

The man nodded, slowly letting his camera hang loose on his neck. The rest of the cameramen easily caught the scene but you both couldn’t care less. What’s a wedding without a little drama?

“Thanks Katsuki.” You note with a soft smile.

Bakugou’s hand tenderly makes its way around the small of your back until his arm is holding you close to him as you walk inside. His hand sitting in a caring way at your hip to assure that nothing could come between you both. You could not wait for the media to plaster this fake-ness on every outlet that they could! However, you liked the thought of relishing in the attention right now.

Once the dining festivities had come and gone. It was time for their first dance. Watching as he held her under the blue lighting had your heart hurting slightly. The thought that that could’ve been you. But Bakugou was right. He’s probably marrying some quirkless nobody not only to make himself look better, but being with another hero is messy. You both had media eyes on you; but… you couldn’t help but wonder how different your life would be like if Midoriya was how he used to be.

You didn’t even notice Bakugou’s eyes on you the whole time. Not wanting to waste a second of his eyesight on the show Izuku was putting on. You were a sight of your own. How could you not see that you deserved someone better? Someone like him. You always spoke about how everyone was under a facade when supporting Deku, but you never correlated that to yourself.

After a short while, others began to join in on the large dance floor. Perfectly spacious for all the famous faces and their egos. Bakugou’s hand traced down your arm until his hand clasped with yours, gently leading you to the floor yourselves.

“What’re you doing?”

“Come on, who’s to say we can’t have some fun too huh?”

Smiling at him, you followed his lead. His hand occupying your waist before pulling you in closer to his chest. Flowing with the music, you couldn’t help the cheesy smile on your face; nor the one that spread to Bakugou’s.

“Why’s no one ever tied down Mr. Ground Zero then?” Your question takes Bakugou by surprise, showing a small blip in your combined graceful swaying to the music.

“No ones good enough.” Such a Bakugou answer.

“You’re sounding like Izuku, but he probably got that from the old you.” You jested, earning an eye roll from Bakugou. “I’m being serious! Come on you can tell me.”

It takes him a moment to figure out an answer, so much so that he doesn’t focus on dancing anymore. He just stands there holding you before locking eyes again.

“Just haven’t found the right person to deal with my bullshit I guess.”

There’s a beat of silence and your eyes search his face for answers. You didn’t even realise how close you were to him. His breath fanning your face, the smell of oak and fire and burning sweetness engulfed your senses. You also didn’t realise how the two of you sank closer and closer into one another.

“Hey Kacchan, mind if I steal her from you?”

Izuku’s voice almost sends you two flying away from each other like same sides of a magnet.

“Ask her yourself she’s not mine.” You turn from Bakugou to give a friendly smile to Midoriya, allowing your hand to rest in his. “I’ll be at the bar. Free drinks and all.”

His answers are short, curt. Yet before you can ask him if he’s alright Deku spins you and begins to dance with you in his arms at the tempo of the new music track that’s playing.

“Long time no see Y/N!” His manner has always been so chipper, despite the facade of it all. Though Bakugou and you went there to purposefully to cause discourse; you don’t think you have it in you to be mean to Izuku’s face.

“Yeah, look at you! Married man now, must be scary.” You chuckle, almost nervously. It was like speaking to a stranger.

“Well I guess I’ll find out! But come on that’s been the subject of the whole day! I wanna know about you and Kacchan.” You felt like Bakugou right now, the old nickname boiling your blood as it did his. There was no doubt Izuku took influence from Bakugou and his fiery personality; but he took it in all the wrong ways. Using confidence to become cold, uncaring.

“Oh- haha, Katsuki and I aren’t-“

“Y/N. Don’t lie to me! I can see the way he’s burning holes in my tux from over here.”

Turning you to the music so you could face where Katsuki was standing, you peaked behind Midoriya’s arm to see Bakugou with an all too familiar scowl on his face. Chasing down a beverage in a crystalline glass in one easy gulp.

“If you ask me Midoriya he’s always looked at you that way.” You laugh your statement off but you meant it with malice.

“Midoriya? Feeling formal today are we Y/N?” He had completely lost touch of who he used to be. “I used to look at you like that when I saw you with other guys, I know what that look is.”

His comment stops you dead in your tracks, not allowing for him to swing you to and fro to the music.

“Actually Midoriya I don’t even remember you looking me with jealous intent other than when I was higher than you on the hero charts.” Shaking yourself free from his towering position on you, you stormed off to the patio doors, letting yourself be eaten by the oncoming darkness of night.

Crying at your ex’s wedding. Not something you’d think you’d ever do in your lifetime but here you were. Thankfully you couldn’t see any reporters or such outside so for now, it was just you and your tears. Maybe you were too harsh on him? You used to be friends right? What happened to that kid who wanted to be a hero who you looked up to? What happened to the boyfriend you had who kissed you goodnight and ignored you when your face was on the TV more than him or snapped at you when he was announced lower than you and broke up with you because ‘heroes dating are messy!’ No. Bakugou was right. He was a self-righteous bastard now.

“Y/N?”

You half expected Midoriya to come out after you but he was probably entertaining other guests. Luckily, as you turned you saw Bakugou standing outside with you, signature hands in his pockets with a dumb, sympathetic smirk on his face.

“Hey.”

“I promise I didn’t punch that asshole at his own wedding but I can tell you he got a fuckin’ earful from me. Hope the paps got a good pic.” His tone was joking but it hadn’t cracked a smile from you yet.

“S’alright. Wouldn’t give two shits if you did.” You sniffled, collecting mascara tears on your fingers and wiping them on the decorative concrete bannisters of the balcony. “Shouldn’t’ve fucking come. This was stupid I have too much baggage for this shit.”

You turned away from him, allowing yourself to lean out on the barrier, looking into the distance on the warm night. You could hear Bakugou give a small sigh before his arms snuck around your waist, pulling your back into his chest before placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head.

“That fuckin’ idiot didn’t know what he lost and it’s my fault for influencin’ him.” The pain in his voice was evident. Did Bakugou blame himself for the hurt Midoriya caused you?

“Katsu-“

“No. That extra is so blinded by the shit everyone has to say that he’s forgotten what real life is. Doesn’t care about his stupid fans or his friends or the best most understanding girl in the whole fucking world. A girl I know does the best for everyone no matter what her own situation is.” You turn around to face him, not wanting to leave his embrace. “Y/N. No matter how much I’ve always wanted to fuckin’ win I’ve just wanted the best for you. And when that bastard did what he did to you- I- fuck. You look at him, like you’re waiting for him to just notice you; but every time I see you it’s like I’m seeing you set the stars in the sky every fuckin night. You just- you’re fuckin’ everything to me Y/N.”

It was completely silent on the balcony besides the low thump of the music from indoors, but it was deafening. But it all faded when his lips attached to yours. It was so clear. All that pining over Midoriya when he was just copying the one who actually saw you for who you were. He even copied Bakugou’s crush on you, most likely to make him jealous. But your mind had no time to think of that when all you could feel was Bakugou.

It was like you had never been kissed before, never felt the love and sensuality behind it. Soft and moist but breathy and warm. For once Bakugou didn’t wish to win a battle, he wanted unity and to be together with you. His hands danced over the delicate curves of you in your dress; taking in every inch of your perfect body. The gasp that fell from your mouth was perfect entrance for Bakugou’s tongue to mingle with yours. The sparks hot and electric between you both was like liquid lightning.

Just as your hands found home in his hair, you heard the all too familiar sound of today of a photo being taken. Bakugou is the first to break the kiss to find the intruder of your special moment. Your lips already feel blushed and bruised but your heart was nearly pounding out your chest.

“Fuckin’ print that in your gossip magazine you extra!” Bakugou couldn’t help but heartily laugh at the man as he shook with worry after catching the intimate moment. He wanted to show you off. He wasn’t ashamed that his lips had captured you to be his.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.” He whispers into your ear and you eagerly nod, grasping his one hand with your two as the both of you manouvered your way through the wedding guests until you finally found a small closet down a hallway where no one from the party had entered.

Slamming the door shut behind you, your eyes drank in Bakugou’s frame. How had you missed that small boy you once knew had now become this beefy, beautiful man? Who was looking at you with the same awe and intent? Bakugou cornered you against the door of the supply closet, latching his lips together with yours once again as if he was scared he’d never be able to taste you again.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect.” Katsuki’s lips mashed with yours as his hands slid up your dress, the coarseness of his fingers against your soft skin sending shivers down your spine.

All those years of being a hero really showed on Bakugou, he lifted you with ease as your fingers traced scars on the back of his neck; holding on for support. His hips pin you against the door and you feel his cock hardening between the fabric of your underwear and his suit pants, you can’t help the whimper escaping your lips at the friction of him.

Bakugou’s hands slip under the straps of your dress, letting them fall delicately to your sides as his lips ensnare yours. His grunts and your whimpers enough to make any passerby know what was going on in the confined space of the closet. His fingers glide beneath the dress which allowed it to fall further as Bakugou felt the weight of your breasts in his palms.

“God you’re fucking everything princess.” His fingers slide beneath the lacy fabric to thumb your nipples, perking and tugging it with his forefinger.

Breaking the kiss, his head lowers to encapsulate the bud in his mouth. Gently suckling it before rolling it feverishly between his teeth. Your hands snaking through his hair only spurring the assault on your supple flesh. Biting your lip to stop the obvious moans that were threatening to spill out of your mouth. You swore you could see stars as his tongue flicked against the pointed nub- sending your nerves wild.

“Bet that fucking extra never treated you like this baby.” He matched your height, his gaze never leaving your own as he took both of your tits out of your bra; kneading the flesh and buds of your nipples as he spoke. “Just wanted to get himself off, I know how to fuckin’ treat you right.”

“Then do it… Kacchan.” You spoke with such gusto in your breathy state, knowing that the old nickname would make him see red. And god did it send him feral.

His body pressed you further into the door, even if it felt like he couldn’t. The aching feel of his cock rubbing against your clothed core made you mewl in want of him. His fingers slid beneath the hem of your dress and made little pricking motions into your inner thighs until he traced a slit over your panties.

“Shit you’re fucking wet.” The pads of his fingers kneading against where you wanted him most, a chuckle falling his lips as your hips did their best to try and get any sort of relief.

“Katsuki please- please fuck oh my god-“ Your neck craned back as you felt your body take control. The low growl in Bakugou’s throat at the sight of you barely touched and already begging for him.

Tracing his fingers along your décolletage he stopped when he met your parted lips before roughly shoving his fingers in your mouth, pressing down the body of your tongue.

“Please please please-“ Katsuki mocked. “Please what princess? Better use your fuckin’ words or else.”

An insufferable smirk played upon his lips as he felt your cunt clench around nothing at his dirty words. Pulling his fingers from your mouth, he wiped the remnants of your spit across your tits; awaiting for your response.

“Fuck me Katsuki- please you’re all I want. God you’re all I need.” Although said in your aroused state. You meant it- and he knew that.

Not wasting any more of the precious time you two had before you were inevitably found out considering your blatant disregard for being quiet; Bakugou used his hand to tug off his belt. Nearly setting his suit pants on fire as his quirk crackled in anticipation for you.

Your body clung to Bakugou’s for support, his whole body easily keeping your pinned high between himself and the door. Once his lower half was sufficiently stripped, it was easy enough for him to rip the sides of your underwear off.

“Katsu-“

“Shut up.”

Not wanting to disagree; you did. Hips bucking against nothing as the cool air prickled at your hot cunt. Bakugou held his manhood in his hand, rubbing the head of it in your slick and providing stimulation to your clit. Your thighs tightening around his waist like a vice grip at the well needed attention.

“You’re fuckin’ soaking baby. So needy.” Bakugou mumbled against your neck, allowing himself and you to get off momentarily at the friction. You could only nod to his words which were making you more and more wet for him. He was such a tease.

“Come on princess. Tell me you want my cock. Tell me.” His voice growled as he repeated himself, leaving marks upon your nape that would surely bruise because of his harsh bites and sucklings.

“Katsuki I need you- only you. Only you.” Your repetition is barely a whisper but he heard it, and despite his rough nature Bakugou confines your lips in a kiss as he sheaths himself inside of you.

Taking a few slow thrusts to allow yourself to adapt to his size, it’s only a moment before Bakugou completely bottoms out inside of you. He watches your face shiver in pleasure which he mirrors. He clasps your hips so firmly his knuckles turn white; it didn’t even hurt as all you could focus on was him inside you. Your hands find their way to his biceps, gripping on for some tension relief and you could still feel his muscles flex even beneath his suede blazer and the shirt.

“What a good fuckin’ girl, taking my cock like this.” Bakugou’s voice is a low growl as he thrusts into you, the sounds of your clothes brushing against one another and the slaps of your skin interacting was like a sinful symphony.

The smell of caramel danced in your brain as Bakugou worked up a sweat absolutely pummeling himself into your sex. You grasped onto him as if your life depended on it, moaning into his neck as his cock slid in and out of you. You didn’t even know how much time was passing as he rutted himself into you relentlessly- yet as you both came to your highs, you could both barely move from the thrill of it all.

Steadying your breaths back to a regular pace; Bakugou slid you down from where he had pinned you against the door and let you fix yourself as he then did himself. You sorted your dress and pulled any tugs from your hair when he had pulled it before slapping Bakugou’s arm.

“You dick! You ripped my underwear!”

“Hot.” He chuckled, fixing his belt loops and stuffing the ripped panties into his pocket.

“Not funny! I’m not parading about with no underwear on!”

“We’re getting the fuck out of this extras stupid wedding. You can wear my clothes at my place.” Suitably sorted and not looking like you had just had the brains fucked out of you in a closet (despite the reddening bites and bruises that were now appearing on your neck), Bakugou held you close. Yet instead of taking the corridor to the exit, he was leading you back to the main dance hall.

“Where’re we going?” You hashly whispered to Bakugou, your thighs still wet from your slick and the cool air against your unclothed pussy making you heat up from embarrassment.

“Gots to do one thing before we go.” There’s a shit eating grin on his face, you couldn't help but wonder what on earth he was planning now.

Midoriya stood talking to other heroes all dressed in their formal attire and Bakugou (with no consideration of their conversation) roughly tapped his shoulder to get his immediate attention. His arm around your waist was so tight but being see with Bakugou like this made you feel almost proud.

“We’re just heading off.” Bakugou had replaced his smile for his usual scowl, something he had always looked at Izuku with.

“Going so soon? It’ll be a shame you guys!” Izuku’s voice was plastered in falsehood. He probably regretted trying to gloat over you two. Bakugou held out his hand for Midoriya to shake it, your brows furrowed on what was obviously a stepping stone to Bakugou’s plan.

“I know I might not be better at you right now in the hero charts.”

Uh oh.

“I’m glad you’ve finally come to recognise that Kaccha-“

“But I am better at you at something for sure.”

Bakugou used Midoriya’s hand in his to pull him closer, readying himself to whisper in his ear.

“Cause I just fucked the shit out of your ex-girlfriend and I know you never made her come as hard as I did.”

Your face burned with the heat of a million suns, but the glower on Izuku’s face was priceless. And you couldn’t help but see the flash of a camera capture the moment as Bakugou’s hand fell from his and slipped once again around your waist.

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

New Idea

pairing: Step-brother!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

warnings: non-con, bondage, pseudo-incest, sadism, smut, mentions of killing

synopsis: You wished to hang out with your brother Taehyung when he wasn't home, only to realize he was better off staying away.

word count: 3.2k

It was late at night. Rain flooded outside, drops trickled down your window and puddles formed on the roads as they reflected the neon lit storefront signs beautifully. The tears from the clouds splashed against the cement loudly, and you watched the empty streets in boredom. With your cheek leaning on your palm, elbow propped up on the round wooden table across your window, you miserably yearned to feel some sort of sugar rush with a deep frown on your face. Things have been mundane, repeating the same old routines as days quickly went by. You wondered what Taehyung had been up to in the time that he’d been gone. You knew he could resolve your boredom instantly had he been right beside you.

Taehyung – your step-brother who was the embodiment of adrenaline, and was most likely awake with you right now. The man never slept, always staying up at night brainstorming ideas for what to do during the day that was no doubt just as exciting as the day before. Bags adorned his eyes that somehow fit his wild persona that never needed asking for permission to do things that were illegal most of the time. It was especially daring when having strict parents, and the only reason he wasn’t locked up in a mental institution was because he was the pride of your family with excelling grades in college that he rarely ever attended. They never approved of anything he’d done, especially not the teal hair he was currently rocking. You on the other hand, looked up to him as a role model.

What you’d do to see him right now. Sometimes he tagged you along with his adventures, such as exploring abandoned buildings and getting matching tattoos on your forearms that he chose. Despite the rebellious acts he put you through, he always defended you against your parents and got away with everything with a light scolding from his smooth tongue. Admiration wouldn’t begin to describe the amount of respect you had for him, though he was rarely ever around. Unbeknownst to you however, he never failed to go a day without pecking your cheek while you were unconscious.

He was everything you aspired to be: a carefree soul with a creative mind and a heart filled with exhilaration. The only thing he hadn’t done was probably murder. It was a shame that absence made the heart grow fonder, because throughout the time you’d known him since your early teens, he hadn’t changed one bit with his disappearances that could go on for days.

Taehyung never changed.

Was this what they called depression? Feeling numb and hating your life for how ordinary it was? You didn’t know, but what you knew was that you really needed Taehyung right now. It was 3AM and your parents were sound asleep in the apartment while you moped over how much you missed your step-brother’s presence. Not a single moment was dull with him, while you were too much of a coward to go through with any of your desires.

And as if your prayers were answered, a pound came on the door. The loud knock instantly gave away the person behind the door; Taehyung, who never cared for how loud he was unless he was on a stealthy mission.

Your heart skipped a beat as the door swung open and the silhouette of your step-brother entered before it was slammed shut with a lock. “You’re awake?” he asked in a whisper without moving an inch when he noticed your seated form.

“Can’t sleep,” you breathed, unable to hide the joy you felt upon seeing him in your tone. He couldn’t have picked a better time to visit you.

“Why not?” he walked over to you before kneeling. There was a smile on his face that matched yours, instantly giving away he came to your room with purpose. It was expected, for he never approached you if not to tell you about one of his newer ideas.

“Was bored.”

“So was I,” a mischievous smirk graced his face. The street lights outside illuminated his messy hair that your hand itched to ruffle. “But I found us a solution.”

Your eyes gleamed with hope, your grin never faltering. “Tell me,” you impatiently urged, your knees already bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I’ll give you a hint: we’ll both be having fun. But you need to listen to me,” he cautioned with a raised finger. You nodded frantically, willing to do whatever he needed you to do. “Okay, stand up.”

You obeyed him and only then noticed the bag slung over his shoulder once you stood before him. “Let me do all the work, yeah? You just stand still.”

“I really want to know what it is,” you whined and bounced on your feet.

Taehyung held onto your tits that bounced with you and you quietly gasped. “Better not be acting like this with anyone other than me. Naughty,” he scolded before unzipping his small pouch.

“I don’t go out without a bra,” you rolled your eyes playfully. Taehyung was notorious for doing and saying things without a filter, uncaring of the effect it had on others. This was simply him looking after you without any boundaries, because he never set any with you.

He pulled out a duct tape from the mystery bag. “Turn around and hold your hands behind you.” You complied without protest, the ripping of a duct tape resounding in the room as he tore it with his teeth. He taped your wrists together like cuffs before facing you again by the pull of your shoulder.

Confusion washed over you, but not a trace of fear. “What’s this about?”

“Now go lie down,” he ignored you and nodded at your bed. You sat on the center, your sheets already rumpled from all the tossing and turning you’d done in an attempt to sleep. His figure loomed over you and your heart raced in anticipation. “Don’t move, okay?”

You silently watched him with piqued curiosity as he pushed you down. The soft mattress dipped under your weight and you didn’t move a muscle until you felt him tug at your flannel pajama pants. “Taehyung? What are you doing?”

“Just trust me,” he ignored you again and you furrowed your brows as he undressed you. “You’re going to like it.”

Without a single clue of his intentions, you expected him to change your pants after he took them off, but definitely didn’t expect him to aim at your panties next. The second he held onto the hems, you crawled away from him and repeated more firmly, “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

He yanked you back to him by your ankles. “Don’t you trust me? You said you’d listen to me.”

“I don’t think I want to do this,” you strained and tried to pull your knees to your chest, but he tightened his grip on your ankles.

“It’ll be fun, just sit still,” he spoke airily, his tone unbothered compared to your worried one. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Once you felt somewhat reassured, you relaxed your legs and lied back down. The discomfort swallowed you whole when he undressed your bottom half completely. The chilly air hit your bare legs and left goosebumps in its wake.

“You shouldn’t be shy about being naked with me,” he chuckled and tapped your pussy carelessly. You yelped and bent your knees again.

“Taehyung, this isn’t right,” you stressed and clenched your thighs together. You were growing wary about this ‘idea’ and you weren’t sure whether his pupils were dilated because of the dark anymore. He could be high. “Let’s try something else, please.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he scoffed and spread your thighs apart, hovering over your loins. “You’re going to love this, just calm it.” He grabbed the duct tape again and tore off a smaller piece before placing it on your mouth, making your efforts of leaning away fruitless. Your voice was muffled behind the sticky tape as you shook your head. “Don’t make me tape your legs too,” he warned as you tried pushing him away. He sat on your knees as he began unzipping his washed denim jeans, ignoring your babbling.

“Been watching a lot of porn lately,” he began casually as tears brimmed in your eyes. “I usually find it boring, but I came across a video that I couldn’t resist reenacting. Plus you were bored too,” he defended, “it’d be mean if I spared my little sister of this fun.”

You didn’t know whether he was joking or not, but you were ready to start crying if he was actually doing what you were thinking. You sighed in relief when he reached for his pouch for a pair of scissors. It had to be a joke then–

Taehyung began cutting your shirt from the middle, and you whimpered when your tits were on full display. Your nipples hardened as a result of the exposure, and tears immediately began streaming down your face mixed with muffled sobs.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” he exclaimed, “we’re not related by blood. It should be fine.”

When you continued crying, he said, “I’ll take off my shirt too, if it helps.” He heaved his t-shirt over his head, his firm chest hard to make out in the midnight dark. “I was thinking kissing would ease you into it, but only if you’re quiet.” Your cries grew louder instead. He sighed exasperatedly, “You can be such a crybaby sometimes.”

He started leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck, and you whimpered at the feeling. You were ticklish and though you were completely terrified, the kisses were a bit soothing. “This is me being nice to you, because oh boy, that guy in the video was a fucking monster,” he laughed while going down the valley between your breasts. A finger flicked your nipple while his other hand rubbed over your folds. “Want me to eat you out first? You’re not wet enough.”

You shook your head in refusal, so he merely shrugged and began circling your clit instead, his fingers now pinching your nipple. His mouth latched onto your other nipple and he swirled his tongue around the areola, clashing pleasure with pain. The rain drowned out your involuntary moans but Taehyung caught them anyway; it wasn’t hard to miss when your arousal began coating his hand. He released your nipple with a pop and locked eyes with you. “You’re enjoying this? Not gonna lie, I was expecting you to cry longer but... you're a little slutty, aren't you?” He slapped your pussy experimentally and smiled when you moaned loudly. “Keep this up and I might just take off the tape.”

For a moment, he wondered if this was why people enjoyed sex so much; your moans were like music to his ears and your body was making his cock throb even more. He could really get used to this, he thought as he slapped your pussy over and over, the sound echoing in the room along with your high-pitched whines.

“Shit, I need to record this,” he mumbled before reaching for his phone on his back pocket. Your protests went to deaf ears as he began recording your pussy and spanked it, the microphone picking up all your sounds of pleasure. Once it reached the one-minute mark, he threw his phone on your pillow and took out his erect length from its restraints, giving it a few pumps as the tip oozed with pre-cum. “I never thought fucking you would be this easy. Thought about it every time I touched myself.”

You went quiet at the revelation and he smirked at your raised brows. “Why are you surprised? Whenever I’m home, you come hug me with your bare tits pressed up against me. Not that I’m complaining of course,” he chuckled hotly. “Want me to kiss you now?”

When you didn’t respond quickly enough, he ripped the tape off of your mouth without mercy and your eyes teared up at the pain with an ouch. He didn’t waste a second in enveloping his lips with yours as he cupped your pussy, smearing his pre-cum on your labia. He swallowed your moans as his mouth moved vigorously, tongue meeting yours as he explored your cavern. The smacking of your lips caused you to clench your hole, the sound arousing to your ears as you kissed him back.

“You going to stay quiet for me?” he murmured against your lips, his cock poking at your hole teasingly. You hesitated but nodded nonetheless. “Good girl,” he praised with a grin and lightly pecked you before properly positioning himself.

The reason why Taehyung was so eager to have sex with you wasn’t just because he was horny, but also because really wanted it to be your pussy that he fucked first, and maybe second, and third. He was a virgin who watched too much porn when he wasn’t outside, and now that you were 18, he thought it to be the perfect timing for you to lose your virginity to him like he’d imagined when he was 15.

Due to his experience, he didn’t ease into your pussy and instead shoved his cock entirely. You screamed and he instantly put a hand over your mouth. “Too much?” he asked with a strained voice. His cock was just begging to be thrusted into you, but he couldn’t have you screaming and waking your parents. When you nodded with eyes shut in pain, he groaned to himself. He was twitching inside you, and after a few seconds, he began moving.

You were crying and bitching again, but he paid no mind to it as he pressed his hand onto your mouth while gently slamming his hips into you, his courtesy for now. You'd adjust sooner or later, but the stretch was excruciating; your walls stung and you started to bleed on him.

"Oh fuck," he giggled sadistically once he noticed the crimson fluid, "that didn't happen in the video." He gazed into your glossy eyes before quickening his pace, growing rougher. "You're crying again; what's new?"

Taehyung was laughing as he was moaning, but you couldn’t hear anything except for the ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded and you were struggling to breathe through your nose as he fucked you relentlessly.

“I kind of feel bad for you,” he panted with a sinister smile. “Does it still hurt?” He took your sobs as a yes. “Poor baby,” he cooed with a pout before moving his free hand to your clit. “This might help.” You were struggling with your bound hands, but you couldn’t move your legs because of how much it hurt. Your fighting was useless, and your body was growing numb except for the thumb that made it less painful.

Taehyung removed his hand from your mouth to hear your moans clearly. Whether it was from pleasure or pain, he didn’t know, but he loved it. He wanted to be the only one to see you in this state. He’d gauge out any eyes that got to see you naked and stab any ears that got to hear your pretty sounds.

But it was a little difficult to savour it when he was reaching his climax so soon; damn inexperience and the low stamina that came with. He had enough self-control to pull out of you to finish himself off with his hand. He missed the warmth and tightness of your pussy and how it kept clenching down on him quickly, but it had to come at a cost – not cumming inside you.

“You fucking monster!” you yelled hoarsely, eyes blurred with tears and face covered in tears.

“Too loud,” he sighed and forced your mouth open to shove his length inside. “Try anything, and I’ll fucking kill you.” His cock was heavy on your tongue as you gagged on it every time he thrusted. It wasn’t long before he released in your mouth and you choked, swallowing his cum without a choice. Another loud moan erupted from him as his hips stuttered while gently slamming into you for the last time.

“Fuck,” he exhaled before collapsing on you with his palms holding up to not smother you completely. “Shit, you’re such a good fucking girl.”

When he raised his face from your shoulder, you spat on him. He laughed hysterically before wiping off your saliva from his cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, damn.”

“You’re the fucking worst Taehyung,” your voice wavered as you insulted him. “I hope you rot in hell. I always saw you as my role model, but now I understand why everyone fucking hates you.”

“Sheesh,” he snorted, “I told you I’d make it up to you, didn’t I? It might hurt now, but it’ll feel a lot better when we do it again.”

“If you try-” he cut you off by going down on you, taking his clit into your mouth and immediately emitting a moan out of you. “Stop, stop, stop,” you chanted in gasps, trapping his head with your thighs and contradicting your words. He chuckled against your swollen pussy, making it feel even better and yet worse. This euphoric sensation wasn’t what you needed after being traumatized by your own step-brother, but it was what your body wanted after getting a taste of his tongue.

He was slurping up your juices and spitting on your folds before abusing your clit again. The bastard knew how to distract you from your newfound grudge, but you weren’t going to forgive him after your orgasm. Your hips moved against him on instinct as his tongue ran up and down your labia. A knot formed in your stomach, your tears long forgotten as you became more persistent in riding him in this awkward position. He heaved your thighs over his shoulder to take full control, and with his vigorous sucking and pulling, you came undone with a spasm.

“Feels good, right?” he asked rhetorically and fell limp next to you.

“I’ve never hated someone as much as you,” you seethed while recovering from your high.

“You’re going to tell me that wasn’t fun? No way,” he stared at you in disbelief.

“You hurt me,” you sniffled and covered your face.

"I'm sorry princess," the nickname felt foreign on his tongue as he held your arm. "I'll leave forever if you want me to."

He hummed when you stayed silent with a runny nose. "I'll clean you up and go, okay?"

"No," you huffed. "You become my slave for a whole month."

"You want me to stay home with you?"

You nodded while rubbing your eyes with your fists. "You can't do that and just leave, and I hate you but I miss you."

Taehyung resisted the urge to squeeze your cheek and coo. He knew you'd regret asking him to stay, but he wouldn't say no to spending time with you 24/7.

Chuckling through his nose, he said, "I miss you too." He traced the tattoo on your forearm, a minimalistic mockingbird with an arrow slicing through the middle. He picked it because it represented you; an innocent little thing who didn't even look down at her wound, only focused on flying back to Taehyung, a hawk that waited with open arms - ready for his meal.

If you wanted him to stay, then that's what Taehyung would do. You'd fallen for his trap twice, the third wouldn't be so bad. He'd make sure you enjoyed it this time.

#bts #kim taehyung #bts x reader #taehyung x reader #kth #thekpopnetwork #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios

535 notes · View notes

achillieus · 3 years

Text

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, sebastian desperately needs to hug the reader, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning

(pinterest inspired board)

part: 1/6

(other parts) (masterlist)

The day it happened, it wasn't a significant meeting at all, you barely even talked. In fact, when he opened the door of your neighbor’s flat that day with a beer in his right hand and his hair messy, he didn't have any effect on you. You always knew that living next to a director meant that sooner or later you’d bump into the pretty faces of well-known people. Sure, you didn’t expect them to be Hollywood actors like him, but to say you were starstruck by the man, would be the overstatement of the year.

The building you’ve lived in for the last three years has five floors; you live in the 4th, he lives in the 5th. He’s a quiet person, usually spending his evenings out of his apartment. You’ve talked sometimes, about the weather and the weird lady that lives in the 1st floor. You’ve never told him you find his directing style a little pretentious.

You’ve never been to his place until that annoyingly warm August evening, when you find a white button up shirt on your balcony. You can clearly see more clothing when you look up and you’re certain the item you’re holding belongs to him.

He’s not there though. Instead you find a different face behind the door. Lighter eyes and darker hair. The man in front of you is definitely younger than the director. You don’t bother to notice what he’s wearing.

“Can I help you?” His voice is deeper than you expected. Stronger, with a touch of European accent. The sound of English surprises you at first but soon you realize he must be another foreign coworker that came to visit your neighbor

“No, I just think Argyris dropped this and it ended up on my floor.”

He looks at you and then at the shirt, in your hands.

Then he says “Sure, I’ll take it.”

“Okay.”

Then it ends. He doesn’t even ask your name. You don’t have to ask his. You figure out, as soon as you walk down the stairs, that it’s Sebastian Stan that you just talked to.

And while being a big fan of marvel movies, you think nothing special of him at first. You just wonder how a mostly unknown director from Greece got an actor like Sebastian to come here so they can work together. It makes no sense to you, but you forget it when your phone starts ringing.

It would’ve been easier if you never saw him again, yet you do. You see him trying to understand what the old lady from the first floor is trying to tell him. You already know. The elevator is not working. The next day you see him walking up the stairs.

You exchange a quick hello, how are you and then off you both go.

The same night Argyris invites you to have a drink with them in the terrace. Part of you wants to just stay in bed and binge watch some Sherlock episodes. Part of you already thinks of what to wear.

There are around ten people there when you show up. They’re all sitting down in huge pillows drinking and talking loudly. You don’t know most of them.

You sit next to a blonde girl, across from Sebastian. This time you notice he’s wearing a plain black shirt and holds a glass of whiskey.

You don’t share any direct conversations but you learn that he’s afraid of growing old and that he thinks Taxi Driver is one fucking masterpiece, as he says.

When you mention that you’re probably the least artistic person in the room right now, you hear him laugh.

A curly haired woman starts dancing with him at some point. You decide he’s not a good dancer.

He leaves the same time you do, following you down the stairs.

“I thought you live here.” You say when he doesn’t stop at the floor you expect him to.

“Ah no, I stay at a hotel near the centre.”

He keeps talking about his suite until you reach your door.

You part in a blur, with a short goodbye.

He still doesn’t ask for your name.

It makes you feel genuinely offended.

Two days after, he is the farthest thing from your mind, until you find him sitting in front of your door, his eyes roaming the place with despair. And then he sees you.

“Ah finally you are here.” He starts casually. “Thank god.”

You just nod.

“Argyris told me to wait for him with you. We had a meeting but he got stuck in traffic.”

You give him a look.

“He said you’re always at home so you won’t mind.”

Ouch. Yeah sure, your social life wasn’t something to brag about but for some reason the way Sebastian said it, it sounded like an insult.

“Okay, come in.” You shrug, clearly not feeling comfortable and turn around to unlock the door.

You hear him call your name. You thought he didn’t know.

“Yes?”

He offers you an easy smile. “Thank you.”

Sitting in your couch he’s eyeing the entire room, while you put some groceries in the fridge.

“Argyris says you’re a great girl.” He clears his throat. “But he thinks you’re too quiet for your own good.”

You look at him, your eyes flicking up and down his face.

“And from what I can tell, he’s right.” You hear him laugh.

It felt weird to see him laugh while he was leaning back at your cozy pillow. He had entered your life so suddenly you didn’t even have time to react to it.

“I’m sorry but I barely know you.” Your words are sharp. He sits up.

“Okay then let’s get to know each other, what’s your favorite Disney princess?”

Defeated, you laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

“No, this is an important question.”

You wait for him to crack up but then you remember he’s an actor.

“I don’t know.” You think for a second. “Mulan?”

“Oh my god. Mulan is amazing.” You smile at him. “My favorite is Jasmine, she’s just so badass.”

You share your favorites that day, having almost nothing in common rather than your everlast love for animated movies and buttered popcorn.

When it’s time for him to leave, he stops and looks at you in the eye.

“You should talk more often.”

You stare at him with confusion. “I talk,” you raise your eyebrows. “When I have something to say.”

“Good.” he says, still looking.

Later in the evening, you’re eating some yoghurt when he comes knocking on your door.

He’s different. The white tank top he was wearing this morning is replaced with a dark shirt and his face looks tired. You assume they’ve been working since he went upstairs.

“Hiii”, he says dragging the i, “Am I interrupting anything?”

You desperately want to nod. You want to tell him that you were doing the most exciting thing in the world, before he came but you were never a good liar.

So you just tilt your head and take a step back.

That’s when he enters and is met with some loud rock music blaring from your laptop.

“You like AC/DC?” he asks, almost wide-eyed.

“Well, I can tell it’s them when I hear their stuff.” For the first time that day, he seems to be in loss of words. “Why are you so surprised?”

He sits in the same spot in the couch as earlier and laughs.

“I just didn’t take you for the kind of girl who likes this music.” It’s your turn to laugh.

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. Quiet girl who loves animated films and eats kids’ yoghurt” he looks at the carton in your kitchen table, “and also likes metal music? Doesn’t add up.”

“We’ve basically just met; you shouldn’t make assumptions about me.”

“Fair enough.” He sits back, fidgeting with his fingers.

You take some time just looking at him

There was a certain vibe about that man that made you wonder how it’d feel to cruise down a dessert highway in a convertible mustang with him. In the summer. With him wearing that white tank top.

The color of strawberries emerges at your cheeks just at the thought of it.

You wish he doesn’t notice.

You’re glad to find him looking the other way, before he speaks up.

“We’re going out tonight.” His voice is warm now. “Argyris says you should come along, even though I’m quite sure there’s no hardcore music where we’re going.” He laughs again.

I can’t. You almost say. But then anxiety slips away from you and out of sudden you want him to stop being so freaking arrogant, going around and acting like he knows exactly what kind of person you are.

He thinks you’ll say no. You can see it in his eyes.

“Sure, when should I be ready?” you say, surprising both of you.

He looks at you for some time and then trying to hide whatever he was thinking he says the first thing on his mind.

“How old are you?” He sounds pitiful. He knows. He wishes he could hit a wall; with his head.

“Twenty-one.” His eyes scan yours, unsure of what they’re looking for. “Why?”

“No reason.”

He inhales deep.

You try to blink. You’re at a party in a little bar you’ve never been before and a lot of people are wearing black. Alcohol. You can still taste it on the back of your tongue. You don’t remember how you end up pressed against a dark skinned man, but you can tell he smells of cigarettes and despair.

You sway your body to the beat, close your eyes. Breath in. And out. You think the music deafens you for a second but you open your lids and see Sebastian and he’s watching you, unashamed.

He’s not that far, though it feels like it with countless bodies in the way. The music melts. His gaze is almost angelic. Or devious. You can’t really tell.

He’s dancing with that curly haired woman again. You wonder how intimate their relationship is.

The red neon lights make his skin glisten. His muscles move divinely. It makes you think there’s an entire world inside him, his flesh barely keeping it hidden. Out of sudden you get the urge to walk towards him. You want to see him up close under this dim lighting. But you don’t move.

The man that’s groping your waist asks for your name. You tell him you need to flee. He doesn’t understand.

You sit outside with the sweet summer breeze touching your bare arms. The bass of the music in the background syncs with the beating of your heart. You can feel your ribs grow with every breath you take. Until you stop breathing because the door opens and his eyes suffocate you.

You can’t fathom the effect he has on you. He was a pretty face on screen some days ago. But right now he steals distance and stays near you.

You don’t look his way. He doesn’t say a word. Nicotine and smoke surround you as he exhales. His fingers hold the cigarette butt with care.

“Do you want some?”

You turn to look at him.

“I don’t smoke.” He laughs.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want some.”

You want to know if his breath has the taste of sulfur. You want to pretend it’s the alcohol or the loud music that makes your head hurt.

“What’s the best part of being an actor?” The blue in his eyes glows.

There’s silence but he seems to be thinking about it.

“Do you ever feel things too much?” He says, his voice hoarse. “I mean, when you feel something so intensely it becomes a part of who you are.”

You nod. You understand.

“Acting allows you to let go of these feelings,” he starts. “You share the burden with the audience until it becomes light and you can hold it again.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I could that,” you close your eyes. “I don’t think I could share what I feel so easily.”

He stands up. The wind hits you again.

“A lot people can’t. That’s why everyone is heartbroken,” he takes a breath, “Feelings eat us raw.”

You both go to bed alone that night. Tomorrow there is a hole next to you.

the morning after, search history

(02:45 PM) hangover recovery

(03:00 PM) best food after a hangover

(03:10 PM) sebastian stan

(03:30 PM) sebastian stan girlfriend

(06:00 PM) xanax side effects

You follow him on Instagram. He doesn’t follow you back. You remember he probably gets tons of followers every day and decide not to let it bother you. Instead you study for the exams of the following month.

The subject of your studies doesn’t interest you. Another poor decision you made under pressure. Sometimes you feel as if your life is borrowed from someone else. Sometimes you feel as if you haven’t found your home yet.

Feelings eat us raw.

His girlfriend looks beautiful in the pictures you find online. The media isn’t certain if they’re still together but you like to think so. It makes it easier to avoid him.

But the universe seems to be oblivious to your thoughts and you see him that same day. You’re taking the garbage out and he’s coming down from the top floor. You meet in the elevator.

“I’m glad to see you’re still alive,” his eyes are smiling as he talks “you looked kinda drunk last night.”

You fidget with the hem of the bag you’re holding.

“I wasn’t drunk.” You notice he’s growing some stubble. You’re not sure you like it.

“Whatever you say, doll.” You bite your cheek trying to devour any sign that might give away how his words make you flinch.

He turns his body a little so now you’re facing each other. He’s so pretty. He’s so pretty in a way that doesn’t hurt. You try not to stare at him, but you fail sometimes. You’ve never noticed how slow the elevator moves until you want to get out. You can’t stand being so close to him for much longer.

He’s an arrogant rich actor who loves Disney and smokes a lot, you think. I have no reason to be affected by him.

“Ah! Argyris said we’re leaving for the weekend.” You eye him curiously. “He wants to show us some small villages in the south. He thinks we should get to know the country a little more before we start.”

You’re stunned by your neighbor’s dedication to his work. Sometimes you wish you had something you could be passionate about too. Sometimes you think you’re never going to find it.

“That’s great. I’m sure you’ll like it.” You give him a smile.

He leans his back at the wall. The elevator stops. Finally.

“I like your eyes.” You grab tight onto the bag. “But they don’t smile when you do.”

He opens the door and he’s gone.

They tell you that it’s fun to meet a famous person. They tell you, you can ask for a photo and a hug. They tell you celebrities don’t talk a lot but that doesn’t mean they’re rude.

But he’s not like that.

He’s fire. He’s burning heat and scorching flames. His words are his thoughts; raw. You don’t like it.

late night search history

(00:38 AM) blue valentine movie soundtrack

(01:15 AM) is sebastian stan a bad person

(01:30 AM) acting classes for amateurs

(01:50 AM) cheap leather boots

(02:10 AM) sebastian stan eyes

You find it annoying; how he’s present even when you’re alone.

Thankfully he’s leaving for the weekend, you think.

The weekend, however, is two days away.

You think you can get away without seeing him. And you do. Until it’s late at night again. And they’re all upstairs with music so loud you’re certain the lady on the first floor is going to be rude about it in the morning.

The music tempo has you unaffected. All you think about is if he’s dancing with that woman again.

He’s such a bad dancer, he should not be dancing.

There’s a subtle knock on your door. You know it’s him. You hope you’re wrong.

“Do you feel like dancing?” His face is all flustered. It’s a good look on him.

“You can’t come knocking on my door at 2 AM and ask me to dance.” His gaze is filled with confusion.

“So you don’t feel like dancing?” You roll your eyes. He notices.

“That’s not the point Sebastian.” It’s the first time you call him by his name. You let it slip away slowly, testing the way it sounds coming out of your mouth.

He takes a step closer. You are suddenly aware of your pyjama shorts and your exposed skin.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to irritate you.” His eyes are the cliché blue of the sky. “I just thought you might want to dance, that’s all.”

Suddenly you feel guilty and embarrassed. He’s oblivious to it.

For a moment you feel his eyes linger on you. It feels surreal.

You nod at him.

He’s ready to say something when Argyris comes down the stairs, his shirt slightly unbuttoned.

“Ah man, I thought you got lost or something.” You lower your eyes. “Stop messing with the poor girl. People are looking for you.”

He throws a smile at you and Sebastian takes a quick breath.

“People are always looking for me.”

He gives away that he’s carrying a burden. Your expression softens. But then you look at Argyris and you see he doesn’t really pay attention to these words.

You share a quick look before you’re there standing alone at your doorstep, trying to grasp the idea of him.

When you wake up you feel like running. You can’t fathom where the feeling comes from but it starts like a liquid running down your veins and soon you can’t stay in bed even for a second.

Feelings eat us raw. Only if you let them.

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged in this six part story :)

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan imagine #monday the movie #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #letyoudown

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clementinesjourney · 3 years

Text

Record Shop Funk - Pt. 1 Like real people do

A.N. : Hey guys, so i had this idea yesterday, and i really hope you'll like it. <3

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Words: 1,9k

Pairing: camboy!Steve x Reader, roommate!Bucky x reader, Stucky x reader (as the story goes)

Warnings: nothing yet :)

Summary: Who knew that having a secret crush, then a hearbreak will end in such a sweet thing..

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

You and Bucky shared an apartment above the recordshop you both worked in. Your aunt was the owner of both, so it was a fairly good payment, and a fairly good apartment for a cheap price. It was a bright and big apartment with two bedrooms, so your decided to rent it out, all while searching for a helper to the shop downstairs. When Bucky came in applying for the job, you asked out of joke if he needs a place to live since you had seen around 5 people already and none of them felt right. His eyes lit up as he said he is in fact looking for a place. Since he was fitting for a job, and looked like a decent guy, you congratulated him on his new job, and asked if he wants to see the place today. You still had one and a half hour to close, but after it you would gladly show him the apartment.

He had nothing better to do, so he agreed to it, feeling happy about having a job he might actually like and a coworker he might actually will get along with.

-Do you drink coffee? I was thinking of getting one in the meantime. My friend works close by, and they make the best coffee in town. - He asked.

-I could go for one thank you - you smiled at him - iced cold-brew, no sugar, i'm sweet enough.. - you said with a smile.

He couldn't help but smile back at the joke. When he arrived at the café, he saw his friend Steve flirting with a girl whom he could visibly see trembling just cause he talked to her. Steve always had his way with girls, ever since the serum of course. After he broke up with Peggy, it was mostly just hookups, never finding a girl worth keeping around. Not as if they werent kind, pretty or good to him, it just never felt right. Bucky smiled at his friend, Steve immediately shifted his gaze from the girl, to a very happy Bucky.

-Did you get the job?

-Better.. I got the job, and she has a room for rent which i'll see tonight.

-Wow Bucky, i didn't know you were even better then i am.. sooo how does she look? - asked Steve with a slight wiggle of his eyebrows. He wanted Bucky to get a girl since ages and hearing this, his mind immediately ventured there.

-5'7, ginger, green eyes, freckles, curvy just the right places. why?

-Nothing Buck.. nothing.. - Steve said smirking at his friend.. Bucky never realized when he liked a girl, so he never really acted on it. He last had a woman back in the 40's.

-Sooo i know you didn't come to have chat with me, one black coffee and.. ?

-ah, iced cold-brew, no sugar..

After paying for the coffee, he hurried back to the shop, hoping to get to know his coworker a little bit better.

You thanked him for the coffee, and when you tried to pay, he refused.

-Next round's mine then. - You smiled at him with your 1000 watt smile, which again he couldn't help but smile back at.

-So tell me about you Bucky, what do you do in your freetime?

-Nothing really, just reading, spending time with my friends, kind of thats it.. I have a boring life really. What about you?

-Well, i work here, then i go home and listen to music, cook, god i love to cook, thats a big pro for the apartment.. just saying. - you said with a playful wink. - besides that nothing much. Sometimes i go to a nearby bar with my friends maybe concerts and thats it.

-I like washing dishes if that helps with the application for the room. - he said with a shy laugh which made your heart skip a beat.

- It sure does.. Do you leave your stuff around?

-No i'm a tidy person.. thank you very much. - he said cockily (just for the sake of being funny really).

-Okay okay, if you like it you can have the room, just promise to tell if you bring up a girl so i can leave. The walls are kind of thin.

-It's okay, i don't really...

-Oh um i'm sorry, i didn't meant to intrude, it just something i would really like everyone to add to their rental contracts. - you chuckled embarassed.

-Noo no, it's okay, i'm not embarassed by it. I guess i don't want hook ups, if one day there's someone i'll tell in advance.

-yea me too, i promise. If you end up renting it anyway haha. on that note it's time to close so i can show the room in a min.

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

When you opened the door to the apartment Buckyquietly took in it all. It was really bright, white walls with paintings all over the walls, plants in every corner or shelf you can put one on, a comfy looking mustard couch, aztec-y rug under the coffeetable, and a wall fully shelved, filled with books and little trinkets, it looked like a home he never had a chance to have. The livingroom had an american kitchen on the side, island in the middle of the kitchen area, it was white, and blue which reminded him of greece, down the hallway you showed him the bathroom which of course had a lot of plants that liked the atmosphere of a bathroom, a shower in the corner and a bathtub under the window. You then showed the empty room he could rent out. It only had a shelf and a wardrobe, and a queen sized bed. No decorations, no signs of anybody ever living there. You then pointed to the room the opposit of what could possibly be Bucky's in the future, saying that is yours. You didn't show your room, he wasn't gonna go in there anyway, and showing your most private space on the first day didn't seem like a good idea either. You then invited him out to the balcony, watching the setting sun, smoking a cigarette.

-So thats about it, what do you think?

-I really like it, and i mean.. my workplace is pretty close so thats a plus, also you said something about cooking all the time.. sooo if it's alright with you i would love to rent it out.

-It's settled then roomie. I'll give you the keys, you can move in whenever you want to. Tomorrow we are closed, so maybe that would be ideal.

-Yea, then tomorrow it is then. I'll ask my friend to help, then we can maybe hang a bit if you're free.

-Sure, i have nothing planned, and it's good to know who i'll be living with. - you said with a smile.

Before closing the door, you said your goodbyes, and you realized what did you just do, after he wished you good night with a killer halfsmile that almost had your knees buckle. You just agreed to living together with possibly the most handsome man you've ever seen who is also your new coworker, so you will basically spend most of your time with him.. Guess we'll see how this goes you thought to yourself.

Morning came soon enough, you were sitting out on the balcony when you saw Bucky arrive with a very tall, just as handsome man, carrying boxes of books, and bags of clothing. Bucky looked up at the balcony, waving towards you, you waved back, then moved to open the front door before going back out to the balcony, resuming your coffee and smoke.

When they finished bringing all Bucky's stuff in, it was already midday, so you decided you'd order pizza for all of you, as in like a welcome present.

-Hey guys, i'm thinking of ordering pizza, what kind would you like?

-Oh (y/n) you don't have to. - said Bucky, earning a smirk from Steve as he looked back and forth between you two.

- Noo i insist, today won't be the day i'll start to slowly kill you with my cooking. - you said giggling a bit.

- Whatever's fine peach. - said Steve with a wink, that you decided was just out of friendlyness. You didn't veen knew his name, and he seemed like a lady's man anyways. Not really your type no matter how handsome and muscular he is.

- Steve, by the way, nice to meet you.

-(Y/n), likewise. - you shook his hand.

When the pizzas arrived you called them to the kitchen, listening to all their shared stories from their early years. They seemed like really close friends, and genuinely good people. You had a really great time. It was nearly 9 pm when Steve left, for saving a dame from dying cause of boredom he said. You and Bucky chuckled, then he let him out, closing the door, locking it for the night.

-I guess i have some packing to do, so.. good night (y/n).

-Good night Bucky, if you need anything just knock. - you said with a smile, and he couldn't help but smile back. He felt at peace. He had Steve, now he had a job, and a room to make a home of, and you as a new addition. You were so kind, so eager to help if he needed anything, he loved how the scent of raspberries and flowers lingered in the apartment mixed with coffee and cigarette smoke. It seemed to have a calming effect on him.

You heard a soft knock half an hour later. WHen you opened the door you saw a smiling Bucky, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

- Hey, um.. sorry. I forgot i didn't bring a blanket, could i borrow one until i get my own?

-Yea sure, i'll get one in a min. - You said, leaving the door open, letting him see a bit of "you" while you were searching for your spare blanket in your wardrobe. The room really was you. White, with mustardy curtains on the window, plants everywhere, books piled up here and there, a really comfy looking bed, pictures of you and your friends on the walls. And damn, your room smelled even more like you. If he wouldn't pay attention your scent would lure him into your room and never let him leave he thought.

-There you go. - you handed him the blanket smiling.

-Thank you very much.

Then he stood there for a moment drinking in the sight of you in front of him. You were wearing an oversized tshirt, that ended just around the middle of your thighs, hair in a messy bun, no makeup. He could swear he thought you were pretty before, but seeing you as you were made him fancy you even more.

With a small smile you told him goodnight again, then closed the door in his face.

You could hear his little laugh on the other side of the door, then his door closing. For the first time in months he didn't wake up in the middle of the night, and he didn't had a nightmare either. He was afraid he would, and then he would wake you up with his screaming, but looks like the blanket which smelled just like you calmed him enough.

After waking up because the rays of sunshine on his face, he smiled to himself guess i'll wait with getting my own blanket then...

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #recordshopfunk

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allandoflimbo · 3 years

Text

Ashens (Part 23)

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

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 6,000

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

Full Masterpage |

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you

+ + +

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity.

Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character,

for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way,

not for their own benefit, but for others.”

+ + +

It starts in his fingers, a feeling of hot tingles and sporadic static. He plays with the condensation of the glass, gathering the wetness on the tips of his digits until they are completely numb from the cold. The hot tingles and static dissipate momentarily until they move up his arms and into the cavity where his heart beats.

It beats for the way you waltzed into the room, smelling like sweet strawberries and your shampoo.

It beats for the way it continues to ache and hope to feel your touch again.

If he’s quiet enough, he could hear it, too. It thumps away in his head, making his temples pulse and his palms sweat. He rubs the palm of his hand against the glass, too.

He looks up, dark eyes meeting your figure in your shared bedroom. Memories of the last few months fill his brain with a strong ripple of serotonin, gaze drifting towards the messy, fresh out the dryer, white sheets.

He’s feeling too much. It must be why he feels like he’s having a heart attack and why his mouth is insanely dry.

His eyes flicker back up to you again, and for a fraction of a second, he considers saying something.

Bucky doesn’t talk about his feelings much.

He always held it down.

He didn’t talk about how he felt when he watched his sister being taken from him, or when either of his parents died and he in result became an orphan.

Not much has changed since then, he thinks as he keeps looking at you.

You were moving around, unaware of his inner turmoil.

Bucky is fully convinced that no one on this earth detests him more than he detests himself. Not only does he hate himself for the things he’s done, but he can’t stand how he’s unable to talk about his feelings when he knows he needs to.

He can’t stand how weak he is and how he doesn’t have the guts to face it.

He’s watching you and he wants to speak up, but he can’t.

He detests himself for always running away from facing his demons.

This had a lot more to do than you going on a date. This was about everything. He knows there’s so much he needs to tell you.

He just wishes it were a lot simpler.

He doesn’t dare compare his issues to yours.

He knows each person has their own demons and their own complications to conquer, so he doesn’t dare compare. But, sometimes, he can’t help but think he is the world’s most horrible person, through no fault of his own.

Why couldn’t he have been stronger? Why couldn’t he have stopped himself from getting brainwashed? Why couldn’t he stop himself from doing all the things that he did?

Nobody knows what it’s like to live with the memories of being forced to train young girls who were taken from their families to fight for the KGB, one of them who later turns out being your friend. Not to mention then also shooting the same girl through the stomach on a bridge in Odessa. Nobody knows what it’s like to be forced to put a bullet between countless of innocent people’s eyes, some being young kids, cutting their innocent lives short.

Nobody understood what it was like to then be forced to kill someone’s parents, the same person who’s teams then welcomes you decades later into their home as family.

He experienced all of it without one goodbye to his blood family.

It doesn’t make sense to him how no one else could see what was going through his mind. Maybe he was messed up to the point where he could no longer be okay ever again.

Maybe.

But you, you had woken something inside of him that he thought had been long gone. You gave him a longing for communication, to talk about how he was feeling. For the first time in over half a century, because of you, he sees a potential light at the end of the tunnel.

You didn’t treat him like an ex assassin, a veteran, an avenger, or just a friend. You treated him like an imperfect man, taking him into your arms in spite of that.

Unbeknownst to you, you had taken his broken heart in your hands and held it tenderly, like a mother holding a newborn child. You taught it how to be happier, you taught it self forgiveness and preservation. You showed him how to be human, how to feel human desires that for so long he had held down.

He continues to watch you, swelling hard.

You showed me that it was okay. He thinks to himself.

You were his friend for much longer than you ever knew, and you had no idea.

He needed you more than you realized.

But you were right. It was time to let you be truly happy. After all, how could someone like him make you happy? You made it clear to him, time after time, that you’re both toxic together. He knows most of it was his fault, but he had changed. Unfortunately so had you and your feelings were just platonic now. It was a mess. Both of you, together, was a mess.

The amount of orgasms you shared don’t even make up for the hurt you’ve put each other through.

That’s what he needs to tell himself as he watches you from the living room, pulling the wool scarf tight around your neck to hide your tattoo, and tightening the lightweight white coat over your shoulders.

You were wearing a mid length dark red dress and short black heels. You looked great. The small smile your wore complemented you well, too. You looked happy.

Bucky knows he has no right to feel what he does as he watches you go back into the bathroom to touch up your hair.

It was a quarter past seven and the sun was setting. If this was two weeks ago, you two would probably be having sex right about now.

It had become routine after a certain point. He would probably have you bent over the sink, leaving finger indents on your hips.

Not anymore. That was over.

Ironically, it wasn’t even want he wanted to do with you as he watched you walk back in. He just wanted to grab you, run his hand through your hair and kiss your forehead.

The thought of wanting to do such a pure act catches him off guard and he feels a tightness in his chest grow hot. There was the static again in his fingers.

“I’ll be back in a few hours. We’re just going to have dinner at his place.” You say, slowly stepping into the lit living room.

Bucky’s on the sofa and you watch as his eyes leave yours to obviously linger down your body.

He clears his throat, reaching for the glass of water on the coffee table.

“Be safe.” He says softly.

You watch as he takes a sip of the water, his eyes meeting yours again over the glass. There’s a pull inside of you that wants you to ask him if he was okay.

“You’ll be okay here?”

He gives a curt nod, avoiding your eyes.

“I’ll be fine.” His tone is hard and straight to the point, but something was still clearly off with his behavior.

He’s been acting weird since a few days ago when you told him about Pietro.

You start playing with the sleeve of your coat, clearly stalling.

He had to open up to you.

“You have food?” You ask. The edge of Bucky’s lip perks up. You’re thankful for the almost smile.

“Yes.”

You watch him for a few more seconds. The mundane exchange is almost comical.

“I gave you his address, right? Just in case?”

Pretty blue eyes narrow at you curiously.

“Yes, I have it right there.” Bucky says, pointing over to the dining table below the blue A.I glow.

“Okay.” you say, nodding slowly, “Okay, I’ll see you later then.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything as you leave. He leans his elbows on each of his knees, bringing both his clasped hands together up to his chin.

He wants the static to go away. He wants to tell you everything.

He takes in a deep breath and runs a metal hand through his hair.

No, I wasn’t going to be okay without you here.

He picks up the control off the table and starts season nine of Friends.

It was going to be a long night.

+ + +

You were nervous. This was your first date.

Ever.

You also didn’t know what to expect from tonight. Sure, you liked Pietro. He was sweet, a good guy, and he was attractive. You wanted to give it a try. You were done being dragged down by one man that didn’t even love you the way you did.

It was time to move on.

Three soft knocks is how long it takes for the dark blue door of apartment 8C to swing open.

You’re immediately welcomed by the scent of something delicious and Pietro’s warm and bright smile.

“Hey, you.” He says with a delighted perk in his voice. He swings the door open wider for you to walk through, “Come in.”

Timidly, you walk into his inviting home.

The walls were beige and he had dark brown wooden floors. They were glossy instead of matte. To the left was a small kitchen with black cabinetry, and in front of you a small living room with a television and a black cotton couch.

You didn’t miss the hallway towards the far left the most likely led to a bedroom and bathroom.

Bedroom.

You feel your throat close up.

You were nervous.

“May I take your coat?” He asks sweetly, stretching out a hand to you. Your eyes go from his hand to his own eyes and his smile is contagious, “I’m just going to hang it in the closet. I won’t let it run away. Promise.”

You chuckle.

You give him a short nod, shrugging off your coat and handing it to him.

“Thank you.” You say.

There’s a small pause of silence.

“Wow, you look amazing.” He says quietly, taking in your dress. His eyes sparkled as he looked at you and you knew he was being sincere. You smile. “Do you want me to take your scarf, too?”

You instinctually reach for your scarf before pausing, your hands lingering on the fabric a bit longer than casual, “I’ll keep it,” your eyes meet and he squints at you, “It’s supposed to go with the dress.” You say quickly on your feet.

He tilts his head at you and chuckles.

“Okay. Well,” he looks down at his hand still holding your coat, “I’m just going to go hang this up. Feel free to to look around for a few seconds.”

You nod again, watching as he walks to a small closet towards the right, passed the tv.

You look over into the kitchen, and you see a neatly set table with two glass of wine.

There’s a pot on the stove with the lid on it, but the stove isn’t on.

You feel a warm and inviting hand on your upper back.

“I made, or should I say, I attempted,” he adds a chuckle that makes you smile, “to make some chicken parm.”

You giggle.

“I’m sure it’s delicious.”

You both walk over to the table which isn’t that far to the side and he pulls out one of the chairs for you. You thank him politely, taking a seat.

There’s the sharing of shy glances and awkward feet hitting each other under the table. You mutter out sorry’s.

Pietro clears his throat when he remembers he forgot the plates. You smile again as he apologizes and gets up.

“I’m the worst.” He says quickly.

“You’re not, relax. I forgot, too.” You play with the glass on the table, vividly remembering Bucky doing the same not too long ago.

You were picking up each others habits, hard.

“So, how’s it going with the whole situation at home? With your friend?”

You’re caught off guard by the indirect mention of Bucky and you try to casually grab the white napkin off the table, laying it over your lap.

“It’s going better.” You say, hoping it’ll make Pietro cut the topic short.You smooth the fabric over your legs, picking at it.

He looks over his shoulder to you and you can feel his eyes on you.

“Really? That’s good. I’m happy to hear that. I know it was rough for you. I hated seeing you like that.” That makes two of us, you want to say. There’s another pause. “You’re quiet today.” He notes, placing your plate in front of you. You’re hit with an intense wave of nausea as the delicious smell peaks up into your nose. You look away from the plate swallowing hard, “You okay?”

You clear your throat and swallow and swallow.

“Yeah I’m fine,” the bile lays in your belly as the smell continues to drive into your head, making you dizzy and sweat, “Do you have some water?” You croak out, trying to push your chair a little away from the table. It scrapes angrily against the floor, and if it wasn’t for how sick you were feeling, you would be apologizing.

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He says quickly, moving around the kitchen and fixing you a glass.

He hands it to you and you take some heavy gulps. It’s cold and slices through your throat. It lays into your stomach uncomfortably but you prefer it over a dry and heavy tongue.

You place it back down on the table, taking a deep breath. You feel the sweating start to dissipate and your stomach slowly settles.

You bring your palm to your head and quickly blink away.

You hated throwing up.

“Sorry, about that.”

He chuckles and gives you a smile as he takes his own seat across from you, “That’s okay. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

You weren’t too sure, but you don’t say that. “Yeah, I don’t know what that was,” you look back down at the plate that begins to look somewhat appetizing again, “Believe me, it wasn’t the food. This smells delicious and looks delicious.” He opens the glass the red wine and offers some to you. You quickly shake your head, giving him a wave of rejection with your hand. Just the thought of wine made your stomach turn again, “I’ll stick to the water for now.” He nods and pours himself a glass, “Sorry if I’m quiet. I’m a bit nervous.”

“Nervous why?”

You shrug, digging a fork into your chicken and swirling it around.

“I don’t know. I’m just like that.”

He says your name and you stop poking your fork to look up at him, “It’s me. We’ve been friends for a few months now. I’m not some stranger.”

You smile. He was right.

“I know, trust me. It’s just…” you think for a moment and then start laughing, “God, we’re literally on a date, during the apocalypse, like this is just weird, ya know?”

Pietro frowns.

“Apocalypse? We’re safe in here, in these walls. Everyone is safe in here.”

Your smile drops.

You stare at him and begin to wonder if he’s actually being serious. Was the majority of the people in here really convinced that this was it? That everything was perfect? Was Hydra really that capable? Part of you is proud of your parent’s work because you truly were safe because of what they built, but the world was still out there, living. There was still more. This wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

There were people out there still dying, trying to survive. And these people had no idea, including Pietro.

You realize you’re quickly going into dark territory and you don’t want Pietro digging into what you were trying to say, accidentally blowing your cover.

“You’re right. I don’t know why I said that.” You say quickly. You bring the chicken to your mouth, taking a small and careful bite, “This is so good.” You say after chewing and swallowing.

“I’m glad you liked it. I made some lava cakes for desert, too.”

You laugh.

“Are you a cook?”

“Nah. Just watch a lot of Tiny Kitchen.”

You perk a brow.

“Tiny Kitchen?”

“You’ve never heard of Tiny Kitchen?”

You laugh, placing your fork down on the plate.

“No, what the hell is it? A small kitchen?”

“Literally what it is. I’ll show it to you afterwards.”

“Okay.” You grin.

You look down at your plate again, wanting to go in for another bite, but for some reason you just can’t.

+ + +

He doesn’t get past episode three. He can’t.

Not when all thoughts of you clouded his mind. He knows Pietro is good people, so he’s entirely not concerned about that.

He knows he’s jealous. He knows that.

The jealousy mixed in with the anticipation of how the rest of the mission will play out worries him.

He wanted you home and near him, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he was home by himself, glooming.

He knows he needed a distraction right away so he picks up some of his things from the dining table, slides on a light jacket, and makes his way towards the tower.

He knows the blueprint of the tower already and he’s able to navigate himself into stairwell of the apartment on the top floor.

After weeks of dissecting, you both found out that Ashens’ father, Ashen, and his mother don’t live here with the boy. For safety precautions, which are obvious why, he’s being housed in under high security and under the supervision of some au pair who is as clueless of his importance as the day is young.

Bucky knows that what he’s about to do borders on breaking boundaries, and downright creepy.

But this was a situation he would qualify as desperate times comes to desperate measures.

Bucky’s able to bypass security, taking a security outfit off a ‘poor’ victim (he scoffs) as he does soon.

He’s just outside the boy’s bedroom when he hears the nanny tell Ashens goodnight.

When she’s leaving she tells Bucky in a heavy Bulgarian accent, clearly thinking he’s just a regular guard, that Ashens is about to go to sleep. Bucky keeps his head down and nods.

The clueless ar pair goes the opposite way, presumably to her own bedroom.

Bucky waits a few moments before knocking on the boy’s door.

He hears the little boy give out permission to come in. Bucky opens the door.

The bedroom is plain and depressing. There’s a bed with plain white sheets, a small nightstand, and a large window. There are no toys and nothing that would show any proof that a child resided here.

The room is not one he would expect for a boy Ashens’ age.

The little boy sits up in bed, his eyes squinting at the figure in his doorway.

“Hello.” The boy squeaks out.

Bucky practically laughs at how easy it was to get here. For a boy they are trying so hard to keep protected from just anyone, it was quite easy ending up just a few feet away from him.

Bucky’s had his fair share of experiences with kids, having a little sister himself. He knows he has to do this differently.

“Hi.” Bucky says lightly, almost too cheerfully.

The boy continues to stare at him as Bucky closes the door behind him, but not letting it close shut just yet.

“Who are you?”

Bucky slowly takes off his halo looking helmet and the boy squints at Bucky’s revealed face.

Bucky tucks the helmet under his arm and smiles.

“Can you keep a secret?”

The boy looks at him for a few more seconds before nodding slowly.

It’s not until Bucky is closer to the boy that his eyebrows shoot up,

“Wait. I know who you are.” Bucky can’t tell if the boy is excited or surprised, but the reaction makes Bucky’s chest swell.

This might go down easier than he expected.

“I -I was so little when I had the toy but,” the boy starts to talk excitedly and Bucky has to hide a growing smile, “Because I can’t have toys anymore. Not since we moved here. I was little but I remember,” the boy and Bucky both narrow their eyes at each other as if it’s a game to who would say it first, “it’s captain America. You ever heard of captain America?”

Bucky bites his lip.

“No, never.” He says sarcastically. “Oh, he’s the best. You look like his friend, but I don’t remember his name. He used to be the winter soldier and then he became good.”

Bucky’s heart swells again. The boy’s joy was so pure.

“Oh, yea?”

“Yeah. Dad didn’t like them vey much, though,” his face drops as he looks away from Bucky, “I didn’t like how happy he was when they all died. But no one knows that just us I think,” when Ashens looks up again, Bucky’s face is more solemn this time, “Are you sure you’re not the winter soldier?” The boy whispers the question.

Bucky considers his next words carefully. He places the helmet at the feet of the boy’s bed.

“If I told you I was?”

“I would be surprised because I though you were dead, and also I would be confused. Because why you here?”

Bucky nods. He looks away and then back at Ashens.

“Would you tell your dad?” He asks quietly. This was important.

The boy looks at him for a bit before answering.

“No. He would kill you. Daddy’s not on the good side.”

“And you believe I’m on the good side, right?”

“Yes. You’re an Avenger.”

Bucky bites his lip and looks around the room. This boy was good. It angered him that his own father wanted him killed. Now, more than ever, he wanted to rescue this boy.

“Can you trust me?” Bucky asks, suddenly serious.

The boy nods.

“Am I in trouble?” He asks timidly. “What do you mean?” “Ae you here to save me, sir?”

The question broke Bucky’s heart, but he nods.

“I trust you.” The boy’s eyes dart down Bucky’s left side, “Can I feel you arm?” The edge of Bucky’s lips perk up as he takes a seat, “and what does it feel like to hold the shield? Did you really know Iron Man? Black Panther always said —”

+ + +

By the time Bucky is back you’re already home in your pajamas tucked into bed.

“Hey. Where’d you go?” You ask him as he takes off his coat, draping it over one of the chairs in the dining area.

He kicks off his shoes and reaches back, pulling off his shirt. He walks over to the closet for a new one.

“I met Ashens.”

You raise your brows at this. You knew it was part of the plan to happen, but you didn’t expect it to be today.

“What?”

Bucky also pulls out a new and clean pair of boxers, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah. We spoke for a bit.” “And he didn’t recognize you?” “No, he did,” Bucky says simply, eyes going over to you. You looked so pretty, comforter pulled up under your clothed breasts, a book in your hands, and a messy bun in your hair. He wanted you. He looks away, remembering where you had just been, “He knows I’m here. He won’t tell his dad." “How can you be so sure?” “I’m an Avenger, aren’t I? That’s what everyone tells me, has been telling me.” He says it bitterly. Bucky sighs, closing the closet door and then walking over to the bed near you, “Because I made him a promise that I was here to save him. I think he knows his dad is bad news. He’s a smart kid. He knows his dad hits his mom, too.” Bucky’s voice is soft.

“So you trust he’ll keep this between us?”

“I do.”

You nod. You watch Bucky’s eyes as his stare stays on you, unnerving.

“And you?” You voice shakes as you ask, “How are you? Ya know, after?”

Bucky nods his head.

“I’m alright, ya know? I — ,” something happens to him that you had never seen before. A wave of happiness washes over Bucky’s face like a fresh cup of lemonade. His eyes shine and a bright smile fills his face. Even his voice sounds perkier, “It was just so nice talking to him. He’s such a sweet kid. I know we’re doing the right thing,” his eyes meet yours again and his voice lowers to a deep tone, “We’re both going to walk away from this mission with more than we thought.” It’s the first time he’s said that you are both going to walk away from the mission together, and not just you. He knows that. Bucky clears his throat, “You definitely won’t run into his father. He’s not living with him to avoid attention and possible abductions. Ashens is a literal rapunzel right now.”

“Good. That’s good.” Obviously it wasn’t. But it was good for the both of you. You had less chances of running into Ashen.

Bucky takes in a deep breath when he realizes his eyes are lingering on your collarbones for far too long.

“How was your date?” He actually doesn’t want to even know, the thought of you and Pietro makes him sick, but he knows he needs to show courtesy. They can’t ignore it forever. “It was fine. I wasn’t feeling too well, though—“

Bucky’s eyes narrow.

“—Oh no, I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t eat. But,” you took a deep breath and eyed the hallway, "Brought some in a small Tupperware if you want it. It’s in the kitchen.”

Bucky ignores the flutter in his heat at the mention that you thought of him. Thought of him enough to bring the leftovers for him.

He smiles.

“What is it?” “Chicken Parm.” You watch as Bucky continues to watch you, eyes still sparkling. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. You’re happy, right?” Your eyes flicker away for a moment.

“Y-yeah.”

He knows he’s not fine so he lies.

“Then I’m fine. You looked great by the way.” He adds quickly.

You tilt your head at him and he tilts his back.

Damnit, he needed you.

“Yeah?” You ask hoarsely.

He wanted you.

“You’re glowing.” He says.

+ + +

Jazz and burlesque shows were the epitome of everything she had lived for up until she was sixteen years old. The smell of handmade lace garters and expensive perfume still lingered in the back of her mind, bringing her a feeling of contentment and a strange longing for the past.

Nostalgia would overwhelm her as she looked on at what was the exact contrast to her innocence – her mother’s hugs. She missed those nights where she’d play some 12’s of her beat up vinyl on her record, the scratches adding to Peggy Lee’s voice a twinge of imperfection that made it the perfect tone.

With nothing on but her undergarments, and a pair of leg garters accompanied with knee high black stockings, she’d open her closet to a huge collection of gorgeous cocktail dresses. A couple handful landed just above her knees, not many past her mid shin - Scandalous and mildly scandalous. Her parents would kill her if they ever found out she even owned them (let alone have them in their home) so she kept those hidden in a little pile in the back corner of the wardrobe.

She had every right to be terrified for many reasons. It’s not that she was not loyal or a rebel, per say. She was born and raised into a Christian family, all strict rules of modesty and heavy morals applied to her daily life. She was always daddy’s little girl in the simplest sense possible.

She wouldn’t ever dare roll her eyes at him or purposefully make him disapprove of her, ever. Sure, she was raised in a rich family, so she was used to getting everything she always wanted. Material things being at the top of the list. Even then she remained as humble as possible.

Especially when she thought her strong faith was behind it all.

Do well for God, he gives back in return, right? At least that’s what her naïve self believed at the time. But she’d never admit it to her family that she now thought otherwise, especially to her mom.

If anything, God was now banning them all to Hell anyway.

Her vanity was those of every girl’s dreams. Drawers filled with everything you could only wish of having. Inside were lingerie of every shade (from fiery red to pure jet black, like the night sky in the city), style, and earrings of every pearl and diamond crystal variety you could think. Her favorite would always be the garters.

She’d clip each of the four clasps into place just above her knees with her nimble fingers and then she’d sit opened legged in front of the mirror.

Diligently, and with prestige dexterity, she’d apply her blood red lipstick and her four inch black heels.

After an o shape with her lips around her fingers and a loud pop, she’d walk around her room and close her eyes, envisioning herself as a burlesque girl and a sensual song playing in the background. After all, she had all the right in the world to be the exact opposite at night than what she was during the day. Morally, at least.

She still remained as the same sweet, innocent, and faithful young girl she always was. But she had big hopes and dreams, especially in film and dance. God should be okay with dreams, she thought.

When she had learned the truth it was just short of her 20th birthday. She unwontedly found out that her father and brother were different souls at night, too. She wished she never found out that everything that had been lying in front of her had been a lie, and instead of life being a gifted blessing it was instead a bloody carcass hades.

Their life wasn’t one she liked to admit to partaking in. There were times where she would trick into telling herself that they weren’t doing it. She’d trick herself into thinking that way so that when she saw her dad that night, she’d be able to surpass the strong smell of whiskey and gun powder and kiss him goodnight.

Jimmy would roll his eyes with a shove past her shoulder.

As much as she detested it, she knew that without them, they wouldn’t be living in one of the most beautiful homes in all of Manhattan in complete safety. It was because of them that she wasn’t living out in the slums. She tried to divide that part of harsh reality from her brain as much as she could. Eventually, the pros outweighed the cons.

Maybe it was the fact that her body had finally developed into a women’s body. Her breasts were now fully perked and her legs were long and porcelain gorgeous; all she knew was they figured she could be put to good use.

At first she was repulsed by her own father’s comment, but if it meant having dinner that night and not getting killed, she would swallow those nagging feelings and take it head on. It never lasted too long anyway, and all she had to do was stand there and be her brother’s accessory.

When her father brought her into the business, he told her she would thank him one day when she had children of her own- she’d have all the men of the lower east side wrapped around her pretty little finger.

She was alright with it, until something happened that she would never forget. She had to swallow the repulsive bile and control herself not to run away then and there. She was too far in and knew way too much.

It was just another Tuesday night and she had been sitting at the dinner table, when both her mom and dad had stepped out of the dining room and into the kitchen. She ate her soup quietly, not being able to stop thinking about going back to her room to play burlesque, when Jimmy had turned to her.

At first it was the sudden motion that caught her attention, it had made a strand of blonde hair fly off her arm. Then it was the feral look in his eyes.

“Daisy,” his voice was low and dangerous. Daisy knew that tone very well because it was the tone all the other men used on their nights of missions. She was terrified and disgusted. Wide eyes trailed from her eyes to her full red lips and she felt a cold rigid finger against the heat of her skin on her upper thigh, pushing the fabric slightly up. She gulped.

Jimmy smiled, “You gorgeous thing.”

She thought about telling her father but she knew that if he found out, the one partnership that was bringing them the most cash would be jeopardized and it would have to be terminated and he’d be more than upset. She knew when her dad got angry, it was not good. It’s was messy and bad.

Back at dinner, her father would say grace before they ate, all of them hand in hand, and her mom would sit there quietly, a terrified and exhausted look in her smiles. She had heavy bags that weren’t there years ago, and her hair that used to always be done was now up in a messy clip, the baby hairs hanging against her wrinkled forehead, messy and unruly. But still she managed to smile, even if it wasn’t a real smile. It was all a stupid act.

It reminded Daisy of how she herself was when she was 16 - pretending to be oblivious to what her family were doing to the innocent. And so she hated her mom for that, for being just like her.

She felt disgusted in herself, she felt disgust for her family. Oh how she missed those days of when she was a child, before she even knew the truth. It was all so much simpler back then and she was so much happier. The worst it used to get was when her mother would tell her stories about when she was a nurse back in WWI.

She had wanted to be like her mom at first. Her mom was quiet, humble, caring, and extremely gracious. It’s what made her such a good person to have back in the war to help the soldiers- she was strong willed and knew she could help and would in her best ability do so. But those stories made Daisy question why any man in his right mind would want to do such a thing to their own body- putting themselves at such a risk.

Sure, she was privileged by riches, but problems didn’t have to be solved by violence. There must be other ways, like prayer or simply believing.

Her mother would tell her the graphic stories of the injuries that made Daisy queasy and fidget in her seat. She loved her mom’s qualities and how willing she was to help others who were injured and almost dying, but it still made no sense to her.

When daisy questioned her concerned to her mother she had simply said:

“Don’t question acts of the daring and misinterpret it for insanity. Simply thank the courages ones for their heart and strong character, for not all are willing to do the good and get destroyed in the worst way, not for their own benefit, but for others.”

To this day, Daisy wondered if her mom was indirectly referencing her own father- him lacking thereof.

Next, she wondered about when her mom stopped believing her own words.

Daisy wondered if she’d ever meet one one day - a soldier. Someone willing to get destroyed. Or if her mom had been lying and all men are the same, evil like her father and brother.

But she was evil, too.

No, I don't wanna fall in love.

A/N: yes. she’s pregnant.

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