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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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4 weeks - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: SMUT, cursing, needy Bakugou, 18+, sub!bakugou, dom!f!reader, oral, use of viagra, NOT SPELL CHECKED (sorry >w<)

Summary: Bakugou done fucked up and now he has to pay the price..sorta

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

A/N: just for the sake of the story, your quirk is “Command.” As long as you come into physical contact with your opponent, even for a second, you can command them to do your bidding until you say “rebel.”

“WHAAAATTTTT??????!!!!!!”

You could’ve sworn the whole house, scratch that, the whole world shook as Bakugou screamed at you.

Bakugou had fucked up. During a little heated session, things got a little too rough. As Bakugou was railing you from the back, he tugged at your hair. However, along with your soft locks, he pulled on your thin necklace chain that was gifted to you by your precious 5 year old son. The chain broke and Bakugou didn’t even tell you. He opted to have you both finish before he even mentioned the broken gift.

And now it was the next day and Katsuo, your son, had noticed the missing necklace. It did hurt him a bit especially considering he did so much to earn money and go with grandma to buy the necklace but he assured you it was okay. You sent him off to his room to play as you walked to the kitchen to scold and punish your husband. As you complained to him, he conversed with you as his back was facing you and only turned when he heard your punishment for him.

“You heard me. 4 weeks. No sex, no touching, no hugs or kisses, no nothing. No. Physical. Contact.” You said with a stern and nonchalant face. Your arms were crossed as you faced your husband who looked at you with an open mouth and open palms.

“Wha- but- WHY???” He whined.

“Katsuki come on! You broke my very expensive necklace!” You said, gesturing to your now bare neck.

“Who cares if it was expensive, I could buy you another one! We’re pros Y/N, we could buy a unicorn if we wanted!” Bakugou argued as he was still trying to get out of his punishment. You only crossed your arms and pressed your fingers into your forehead.

“That’s not the point! It’s the fact that even though it was so expensive, our 5 year old son still bought it! And so because you broke it, this is your punishment.” You explained. Bakugou groaned as he threw his head back and huffed towards the ceiling when an idea came to his mind.

“You know..” he began as he walked towards you, “I broke that necklace, on accident, because I was so focused on pleasuring my queen. Anndddd I could make it up to you in the exact same way~” He attempted to wrap his arms around your waist but you spun around and stepped behind him resulting in him stumbling forward. He turned towards you and growled.

“Really Katsuki? You’re gonna snarl at me? Look, you know the rules, so follow them. Now I’m going with Katsuo to get him a new toy to cheer him up, you just...heh, sit in your room and think about what you’ve done.” You teased. You grabbed your purse and had Katsuo get ready. Once he was done you told him to get into the car and you walked to Katsuki to say bye. You smirked as you looked at him and pressed your hands against his chest. You slowly went in for a kiss and Bakugou looked at you in shock before he smirked and leaned in too. But just as your lips were about to touch, you pulled away and walked to the door. As you opened it you turned to him and spoke.

“No kisses. Remember?” You grinned at him. He snarled and picked up a pillow off the couch and threw it towards you but you shut the door before it could reach you. This was gonna be a long 4 weeks for Katsuki.

—

Katsuki awoken to his gorgeous wife....sleeping on the other side of the bed far..far away from him. No touching meant no sleepy time cuddles either. It had already been like this for a week. He looked a little closer at her sleeping figure and smiled at her peaceful state. He scooted closer and he tucked his head into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist. Or more like he tried to. The second his arm made contact with your body for cuddles, you woke up and smacked his hand away.

“Ah! Y/N!! This isn’t fair!” He whined. He looked at his arm and saw a little red shade forming as he pouted at you. You turned towards your doting husband and just gave him a stern look.

“Who broke my necklace?” Bakugou sighed and flopped onto the bed on his back as he faced the ceiling.

“Me.”

“And now who has to pay the price?”

“Me.” He pouted again. You chuckled as you got up and stretched.

“Stop pouting Suki. You’re not Katsuo.” You giggled but he only looked at you with the same pout.

“He’s my carbon copy, we’re basically the same person.” You smiled at your humorous husband and he smiled seeing the grin that bestowed your face. You kneeled on the bed and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his chest as you got close to his face.

“You’ll survive, Love.” You said and then gave him a loving kiss. His eyes went wide at the surprise contact but he quickly smiled into the kiss and returned it as he shut his eyes to enjoy it. You intensified the kiss but when Katsuki went to pull you in closer by your neck, you quickly backed away. He looked at you in shock before whining again.

“Okay, first of all, I thought you said no touching.” He growled as he clenched his fist.

“I said you couldn’t touch. Never said anything about me,” you said with a cocky grin. Bakugou’s face went red at your devious actions.

“Okay well what the fuck? You can’t just kiss me like that and stop after I already went a whole week without touching you. Come back here,” he said as he tried to grab onto your wrist but you backed up and walked to your bedroom door.

“Get ready for the day love, this is just the beginning.”

—

Mitsuki and Masaru had just arrived. Katsuki was sitting on the couch trying to distract himself with the TV while you were in the kitchen making a smoothie when door bell rang. You opened the door greeting your in-laws with love and expectance.

“Hi Mom! Dad! Come in! Katsuo is almost done packing his bags,” you happily said as you stepped to the side to allow your mother and father in law to enter.

“Umm, what? Why is my son packing his bags?” Katsuki asked as he stood from the couch.

“Y/N didn’t tell you? We called a few nights ago asking to bring Katsuo on a trip. She said yes and told us she’d tell you about it later,” Masaru explained. Katsuki jerked his head towards Y/N in disbelief as she placed her hand on the side of cheek and spoke.

“Oops! I guess I forgot,” you said with sarcasm dripping in your voice. Mitsuki and Masaru believed you but when they turned to face their son again your mischievous grin returned as you also faced Katsuki. He was silently fuming as he watched you go from angel to devil in a second.

“Ah well, who cares. Point is, we’re here to pick up my grandson!” Mitsuki said as she took a seat on the couch. You all made small talk but Katsuki continued to stand as he processed just how conniving his wife was.

“Mama! I’m all set!” Katsuo said as he came down the stairs with his little suitcase and teddy bear in hand.

“Hi baby! Grandma and Grandpa are already here,” you said and Katsuo excitedly ran to his grandparents.

“Grandma! Grandpa!” Katsuo said as he jumped into their arms.

“Ohh, hello my little firecracker!” Mitsuki said, greeting her grandson. “Ready for a vacation in Rio?”

“Mhm!” Katsuo quickly replied but Katsuki just stuttered in shock before he spoke again.

“Woah- wait? Rio? You’re taking him to Brazil? That’s across the globe, how long are you guys gonna be gone?” Katsuki asked with concern. Not for his son, he completely trusted his parents with his child and he knew they would have fun. He was worried for himself. Taking care of Katsuo was a distraction for Katsuki. Watching his son kept his mind off of wrecking Y/N. If his son was away for too long, he didn’t know how long he would survive his punishment.

“We’ll be gone for about 3 weeks. Don’t worry, we’ll be back before you know it.” Masaru said.

“Wha- huh? 3 WEEKS?! .....Y/N you little satan,” he whispered the last part. He turned to face you and saw a Cheshire grin on your face. His face turned red and you swore you could see steam leave Katsuki’s ears but you continued as if everything was normal.

“Alright well, we’ll be going now!” Mitsuki said as she stood alongside her husband. Katsuo said his partings with his parents and they said their “I love you’s” before their son walked out the door with his grandparents. Katsuo was about to have the time of his life while Katsuki was left to suffer.

Y/N was seated on the couch as Katsuki was still seething. She held a grin on her face as Katsuki slowly turned to look at her.

“You got some explaining to do, princess,” he said adding poison to the loving nickname. You only smiled some more as you stood and walked to your husband. He towered over you but right now, you were above him because you held all the power now. You got in his face as you spoke words that would set him off.

“Whatchu’ gonna do now without your little distraction running around, daddy?” You softly but sinisterly and seductively said as you chuckled and purposely bumped into his shoulder as you walked away.

—

Bakugou has slowly been losing his mind. He was on the last day of the second week and it’s been killing him. When he sat down he would spazz a little and his fingers would be having a little seizure. His eye would twitch at night as he kept his back to you to restrain himself. The soft quiet moans you would release in your sleep every now and then would send Bakugou into the bathroom in the middle of the night to relieve himself. Just the sight of you was daring Bakugou to pounce.

You weren’t making it any easier for him either. First you send his son AKA his distraction from his hot wife away, then you tease him constantly, you also allow yourself to touch him but refuse to let him cop a feel on you, and now, you walk around after work in his t-shirt and a pair of cute panties. Your plump ass on display and the sight of your plush thighs drove him wild.

You were sipping tea in the kitchen when your frantic husband came in. You took notice of him and greeted him with a smile before it quickly dropped at the sight of him. He looked awful. Bags under his eyes, a twitching eye, a crooked line for a smile, disheveled hair, and his posture was horrendous. He took a seat next to you saying nothing as he just tapped his foot against the floor.

“Umm...baby? Are you okay-“

“NO! I’m not! I’m not okay, not at all!” He snapped as he looked at you with wide eyes. You stared back at him with the same eyes as you slowly took another sip before continuing.

“What’s the problem, love?” You asked as if you didn’t know.

“What’s the problem?” He began with a whisper. “What’s the problem?! Oh, like you don’t know you TEASE!” Bakugou stood from his seat as he clapped his hands to dramatically to explain.

“HOR-NY!” He said as he brought his hands together for each sound. “I am insanely horny, you shitty woman! I can’t get myself off, I don’t have my son around to keep me busy, work is just annoying now, and my fine ass wife won’t let me touch her!”

You laughed a little as he explained and Katsuki had his jaw dropped at your rude behavior.

“You’re laughing? Oh you think this is funny? Oh okay,” he said and walked away.

“WHEN THIS BULLSHIT IS OVER, YOU’RE SUCKING MY DICK Y/N!” He slammed the door to your shared bedroom but he screamed loud enough for you to hear all the way from the kitchen. “ON SOFT!”

—

The end of the third week. It was almost too much for Katsuki. Katsuo would be back in another week but it would be pointless because the punishment would be over by then. I mean yeah, he’d get to have his son back again (yayy familyyy) but when Katsuo would be back, Katsuki would be completely indulging himself in Y/N. How the fuck were they supposed to keep quiet?

Whatever though. Katsuki had no time to think of the future. He was living in the now, and so he had to come up with a plan to get Y/N to break. In the beginning of the 4th week, Katsuki spent time and time again tweaking his plans and coming up with new tactics until he realized....his damn wife was just as stubborn and hard headed as he was. Nothing was gonna break her. And so we’ve been led to this.

“BABBYYYYYYYYYY”

“...”

“PRINCESSSSSSSS”

“...”

“Y/N BAKUGOU!”

Bakugou resorted to being a puppy that basically had separation anxiety. He would yell and shout and whine at every chance he had. He would do whatever if it meant getting you to break. He missed you. The last time you made physical contact with him was during that kiss and man did it send Katsuki into a frenzy.

Considering Katsuki’s quirk contained nitroglycerin, a chemical commonly found in viagra, it was safe to say it was very easy for you to rile him up. And as he thought about that, it hit him like a train. If he can’t go to you, then he’ll make you come to him. He’ll set you up and he knows exactly how to do it.

Bakugou left the bedroom and ran down the stairs to find you in the living room. You were cozied up with yourself under a blanket that covered your booty shorts that you wore. You were entranced by the story of a book as you allowed the TV to play at a low volume for background noise and Bakugou’s heart swelled at such a domesticated moment. “Hi baby.”

You looked up to your husband and rolled your eyes with a smile as you looked at him. You wondered what trick he had up his sleeve this time around. “Hey. You need something?” You asked.

“Mm mm,” he shook his head with a soft smile, how cute. “Just was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie with me. Get some snacks, sit in bed, and just enjoy some time together.”

You smile grew wider at the thought of a little date night in your shared bedroom and you were quick to agree to his offer. “I’ll get the snacks,”

“No don’t worry about. I’ll get it. I already have everything set up. Picked a movie and everything. All you have to do is just be there with me.” You awed at your husband’s kind gestures as you went up to peck his cheek.

“Thanks Suki!” You happily said as you walked away. Bakugou watched your form disappear into the master bedroom before he quickly ran through all the cabinets and fridge. He frantically looked for viagra but when he couldn’t find any he whipped out his phone. He called a number that he knew was going to be able to help him.

“Listen Dunce Face. Don’t ask any questions, just do as I say if you want to fucking live. I know you have female viagra on you and if you don’t, get your ass to the store right now and pick some up for me. Bring it to me ASAP!” He quickly said and hung up before giving Kaminari any time to reply. Bakugou slowly prepared snacks to eat and in 5 minutes a knock was heard on the door. He ran to it and opened the wooden piece to find a huffing electric blonde.

“I....I....I got it!” Kaminari tiredly breathed out as he held a bag over his head to show the items he brought. Bakugou snatched it out of his hand before giving a quick ‘thanks!’ To show his appreciation and slammed the door.

Katsuki took the pills out of its containers and crushed 2 into a powder. He mixed it in with your bottle of water and finally brought the snacks and drinks up to you. He walked in to find you waiting on the bed for him and you smiled at the sight of him. He placed the bags of junk on the bed as he quickly joined you until he realized something was off.

“Umm...Y/N?” You smiled as you knew what he was going to ask and considering you guys were gonna have a little movie date, you gave in.

“Fine.” You happily said as you gave in and Bakugou was quick to pull you into his arms and become the big spoon. He finally got to hold you after so many weeks but this was not his main goal. No he wanted much more. This was only a stepping stone to his victory.

The movie began and Bakugou had you cuddled in his arms. You were enjoying the warmth of your husband as your eyes were drawn to the screen and you couldn’t help but smile at these sweet intimate moments like this. Yeah. You’ve missed him over the past few weeks but a punishment is a punishment. So you decided to savor this time with him before going back to cutting off physical contact once more.

Time had passed and Bakugou watched as you picked at the snacks and swallow down sips of the contaminated water. He smirked every time you downed a gulp and now the best part was coming up. See, Bakugou chose everything so that he knew exactly how everything would turn out. With that being said, he chose a movie that he knew would help the viagra in your system to get you going.

The erotic scene played and Bakugou watched as you rubbed your thighs together for friction. You bit your lip from time to time to hold back a needy groan and you began feeling heat all over you. And it wasn’t coming from Katsuki. Seeing you in this state, Bakugou slowly went to place a hand on your bare thigh. You didn’t push him away and Bakugou grinned at the fact that you were breaking. He soothed and rubbed at your thigh as he would squeeze it every now and then as well. The whole time you were asking yourself why the explicit scene was so detailed and so long.

Out of nowhere, you felt Bakugou’s hand travel up your leg and to your core but just for a second. The teasing touch had you silently gasp and you craved for more. You turned to Bakugou to see he was leaning against the headboard and he would release a grunt every so often which didn’t help relieve your growing heat. He didn’t seem bothered by anything or affected at all as he watched the movie continue.

Enough was enough, you picked up the remote and turned off the TV. Bakugou turned to look at you with a raised brow but openly smirked once he saw you straddle his lap. You shamelessly began to grind yourself against his core as you both released sighs and moans at the friction. His hands went straight to your hips as he spoke.

“What’s wrong princess? What happened to my punishment?” He teasingly asked.

“Shut up,” was all that you said before you quickly dove in for a hungry kiss that Bakugou happily returned. It was all teeth and tongue as you both pressed against each other, grinding against one another’s clothed centers. Moans were released into the kiss as you began to undress yourself. You both pulled away for a second to remove your tops but quickly went back in for the kiss. You removed your shorts as Bakugou remained in his sweats. You were left in nothing but panties before Katsuki decided to rip those off.

“Katsuki...nobody said anything about you being able to touch me again,” you clarified with sharp eyes. Bakugou’s eyes went wide. He thought this was the end of the punishment. He thought you gave in.

“What do you-“

Before he could finish, you placed your hand on his shoulder and activated your quirk.

“Sleep.”

And just like that, Bakugou was out like a light. While he was unconscious, you took the opportunity to tie his wrists to the headboard using one of his dress ties. You removed his sweats and briefs as you allowed his member to stand tall. You stared at the red, angry tip that was drenched in pre-cum. You smirked as you sat yourself on his waist as your hand went to stroke his member the slightest bit. He moaned in his sleep and you giggled as you spoke again.

“Rebel.”

Bakugou slowly woke up, but once he fully came to, he was completely submerged in pleasure. His eyes were blessed with the view of your naked body, with a beautiful face that adorned a smirk. And he understood why you held the malicious smile. He groaned as he felt your pace at his dick speed up. You leaned down to his ear as Katsuki held heavy breaths with a flushed and red face.

“No touching, remember Suki?” You whispered as you then licked the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“F-fuck! Fuck, Y/N please. Please just do something...Ahh~” You trailed your thumb up to his tip as you focused on it. The feeling sent Bakugou into heaven.

“Awww, you thought you could tell me what to do? If you didn’t notice, tonight, I’m in charge.” You said with a grin and devious eyes. Bakugou groaned even more as he waited for you to do..anything! “I’ll tell you what though, Suki. You have been pretty decent for the past few weeks so I’ll give you a little something. And maybe if you’re a good boy for me, I’ll let you have the main course.”

Bakugou watched as you stopped your hand movements and scooted back. You were face to face with his dick as you jerked him off some more. You held his member in your hand as you made eye contact with him. You licked the base of his cock all the way to the tip causing Bakugou to sigh and moan. You kissed the tip before taking it into your mouth and swirling your tongue around.

“Oh s-shit! Baby! Fuck-“

You went down on him one time and moaned around his cock, allowing the vibrations to have full affect on your trembling husband. You pulled off him with a pop as you smiled up at him.

“Oh I’m sorry. You wanted me to suck your dick on soft, right?...Mm, well it’s not my fault you can’t control your hard on.” You teased to which Bakugou growled at you. “Again with the snarling? That’s not what good boys do Suki. Good boys do what they’re told so they get to cum inside a pretty pussy~”

Bakugou perked up at the temptation. Cumming inside you. Breeding you. Pumping you full until you give him another brat. The thought of you walking around beautifully swollen with his kid drove him mad and desperate.

“Let me cum inside you Princess.” He asked with a soft but stern tone.

“Ah ah, you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not the one giving orders tonight, Katsuki. So listen up. I’ll go down on you for about 5 minutes. If you don’t come in those 5 minutes, I’ll let you cum inside. However, if you do, I’ll be leaving you here with a cock ring for the next few hours while I go and pleasure myself somewhere else. Understand?” You watched as he attempted to fight against his restraints.

“No.” He refused to give in. He turned his head down, avoiding your gaze and you sighed in return.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself,” you said and slid off him. You were about to walk away before Bakugou called out for you.

“No wait!” You turned to him and gave a little curl with your lip. “Tch....please.” He said while blushing and staring off.

“Please what suki?” You said, acting dumb. Bakugou really didn’t wanna beg but he’s so close to getting what he’s been craving all month. Screw his damn pride. He was gonna get laid and he was gonna get it tonight!

“Please! ....Fuck me, touch me, suck my dick, let me cum inside you, do something to me! Please Y/N,” he begged. His member still stood erect and you smiled as you walked towards him.

“That’s my good boy,” you said as you caressed his jaw and gave him a quick and passionate kiss before moving down to suck him off. You kissed his tip multiple times before taking him in. He gasped and sighed at the contact and feeling of your warm cavern but he’ll be damned if he came undone in less than 5 minutes. He needed to cum inside your sweet little cunt and he was gonna do whatever it took to do so.

You bobbed your head at a steady pace causing Bakugou to plead for more. You swallowed his pre-cum, which left him gasping. Your hand went to fondle his balls as he fought against his restraints. He wanted to use his hands to take control but he couldn’t, not with them being tied up.

“P-please baby. Faster! Please!” He begged. And who were you to deny your good boy. You sped up your movements and moaned with his cock seated in your throat. “Ohh god! Yess!”

His legs shook as he was close to cumming. He looked at the time and saw he only had 1 minute left. Just 1 minute. Hold it in and he gets to cum inside you. However, he didn’t know you had a little trick up your sleeve.

When you walked away before, you grabbed a mini vibrator. Seeing he only had 1 minute left, you turned it on and placed it at the base of his cock while you sucked him off and moaned some more.

“F-fuck baby! S’too much! Stop- stop! ...ohh fuck I’m-I’m gonna cum!” Bakugou screamed with his head thrown back. He jerked his hips up as he attempted to fuck your mouth but you squeezed and scratched at his bare thighs to get him to stop. And finally, with your permission..

“You can cum now, good boy,”

He filled your mouth as he screamed in pleasure. His legs shook in pure ecstasy as he filled your mouth with his sweet-salty release. You pulled off him with a stuffed mouth and watched as his chest puffed up and fell down. He sighed before he looked at you with rosy cheeks. You smirked at him, opening your mouth to show him his work before swallowing it all. The erotic scene caused him to bite his lips and throw his head back as he puffed some more.

He can’t believe he was at his limit and all because of a blowjob. His dick grew soft but rose once more as vibrations came in contact with his shaft again. He flinched at the sudden feeling and looked at the cause of it and saw you holding the vibrator against him. “Baby? W-what? W-hy?”

“Aww Suki. Don’t you remember? It’s time to give you what you’ve wanted all month,” you smirked at him. His eyes went wide. How could he forget? He wanted to cum inside you so badly, but he didn’t know if he had any left. He didn’t know if he would be able to take it after his extreme climax.

“W-wait! Wait Y/N. I-..I need a break for a second. I can’t-“

“Excuse me?” You cut him off. “So you’re the only one that gets pleasure out of all this? I don’t think so.”

“No baby, that’s not what I meant. I just- it’s just...s’too much!” He cried out as he watched you hover over his erection. You lined his dick up with your entrance and smirked some more.

“You can handle it. I know you can. You’ll be my good boy and pleasure me too, right?” You sweetly said. Bakugou didn’t know what it was. He was never the submissive one but you calling him a ‘good boy’ did something to him. It made him want to completely submit to you and do whatever you pleased. You slammed down completely on his cock as you both cried out in pleasure.

“Fuck!” Bakugou screamed. You began a fast pace bouncing up and down on him. Your hands found placement on his bare chest as he threw his head back and made an abundant amount of noise. “Oh baby! Baby- slow down! F-fuck too much!”

“Mm..c’mon Suki..I thought you wanted this. Fuck- I thought you wanted..to be my good boy,” you teased while moaning. You held a devious grin as you rode him and he couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. Poor baby was so overstimulated.

Bakugou released sobs of pleasure but he enjoyed it all nonetheless. “S-shit! Oh my godd Katsuki! S-So big!”

“Ahh! Fuck! Y-Y/N..baby please! Let me touch you! Please!” Bakugou seethed out. He had his feet planted on the bed as he attempted to thrust up into you. You, growing a soft spot for the man below you, gave in.

“Heh...be a good boy and please me Suki.” You released his wrists from their ties as you never stopped your motions and his hands were quick to find home around your waist.

Bakugou was quick to take control and bounce you up and down on his shaft, controlling the pace. Now it was your turn to scream and cry in pleasure as Bakugou slammed you down on his cock while ramming up into you at the same time. He was going to be a good boy and please you.

“F-fucking shit! You like that? Huh?” He gave your ass a quick and hard smack before continuing. “You like the way my dick feels inside your sweet pussy?”

The pleasure was too much for you. You could barely form words as he catered to your body. His thrusts were beginning to bring you to your end as you felt the familiar tight feeling grow stronger in your stomach. You pussy clenched around his shaft as he released a gruff moan at the squeeze.

“Shit..you gonna cum baby? Gonna cum on my dick? ...fuck yess~ let me fill you up princess,” he said as his thrust grew sloppy. He was close to his end as well and you nodded in approval to his desire.

“Ka-Katsuki! I’m gonna cum..fuck baby I’m cumming!” Bakugou sped up the slightest bit to help you reach your climax until you finally came. You both released cried of euphoria as you both met your orgasms and met each other for a hungry kiss. At the same time, Bakugou stopped his thrusts as he shot his load in you, and a mix of your releases seeped out of your cunt. Your kiss was sloppy as your tongues fought for dominance. Bakugou let his hands travel to your ass where they helped you grind on his dick a little more and smacked it once again.

You both had moaned into the kiss until oxygen became necessary. You separated from each other with small pecks before finally stopping. Bakugou remained inside you as you settled into his chest. He had his arms wrap around you as you both spent time catching your breaths. Once you both finally settled, you bathed in the comforting feeling of the after sex glow and cuddled in a comforting silence. Bakugou had kissed the crown of your head before he spoke up and broke the quiet.

“So much for a punishment,” he teased. You looked at him with slanted eyes as a way of telling your husband to shut up but he only chuckled at you. He lifted your chin and brought your lips to meet his once more for a loving kiss before separating to tell you sweet words.

“I love you, princess.” He said with his husky voice.

“I love you too, Suki.” You sent your hand to intertwine with his and he gladly accepted. He was right though. So much for a punishment. Oh well, you’ll get him next time he fucks up.

A/N: EW THE ENDING WAS SO BAD!!!! WTFFFFF! Whatever. I hope you enjoyed it bear Cubs! I’m sorry I’ve been in my lil slump but I feel myself getting better and I’ll be back soon!💗🧸 And now...to start on the ninth chapter of my series. Yayyyyy😓

A/N: I think my favorite part is when Katsuki yells “Suck my dick!...on soft!” Cuz I be walking around and saying that to mfs who test me. If you disrespect me, SUCK MY DICK..ON SOFT! 🤣 am I a female? YES! But you will suck my soft non-existent dick if you decide to act like a prick for no apparent reason. Thank you!😂

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whirlybirbs · 3 years

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( this chapter’s gif by @august-walker from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

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

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy!

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh.

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #marvel imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky/reader

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letarasstuff · 3 years

Text

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.”

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x teen!reader #penelope garcia x reader #penelope garcia x teen!reader #derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x teen!reader #david rossi x reader #david rossi x teen!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x teen!reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x teen!reader #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #x reader #reader insert #x teen!reader #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau x teen!reader

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pot-of-terv · 3 years

Photo

Disclaimer: This starts soft but very quickly goes to a place I did NOT expect it to go so, just, be prepared. I guess there were some things my muse just couldn’t leave untouched :_D There’s also an additional drawing in there somewhere among the text. The ending is kind of a cliffhanger (dun dun duuun... part three is coming!!) but it’s happy (hurt/comfort y’all, MY BRAND)!

Also I have to say- oh my goodness this ended up having over 2,000 words and I’ve never written a fic this long! This feels pretty amazing but also, very scary, because as you know I’m a Finn so English is not my first language and this far I’ve stuck to just writing itty bitty things. Writing a story with multiple parts is also new to me, so wow, actually, thank you PuzzleJune for making me challenge myself in fresh and exciting ways 🥺

tw: breakdown

PuzzleJune2021, Week Two: Space (Quiet)

It is mesmerising. Intoxicating, even, Atem muses as he reaches up to rub his own sleep-soft face, eyes never leaving the still sleeping figure beside him. He shifts to lay on his side, slowly, with deliberate movements, trying to not disturb the quiet of the early morning.

Watching him sleep like this... I can feel the bed move when he moves and his warmth whenever he's close enough. I never had that before, he thinks and his heart clenches. I have it now.

Yuugi snorts in his sleep and Atem can't help but smile. That boy... no, that young man, has been through so much, too much, and yet he still sleeps so soundly. It's nothing short of incredible and the pharaoh wonders if he's ever met anyone more deserving of respect and admiration. Their journey thus far has only lasted for a couple of years and during that short time, the former spirit of the Millenium Puzzle has had the first-row seat to witnessing Yuugi's strength, his growth - how he slowly but surely had begun to trust himself.

Atem turns his gaze away from Yuugi and mulls over that thought. It hurts him somewhere deep in his core to remember how little worth Yuugi had seen in himself during those first months after Atem's consciousness awakened. He touches his chest where his heart is and leaves his hand there, feeling the slow rhythm beating under his palm.

That feeling of self-doubt could as well be his own, for he did think he was Yuugi for a while back then. It's a troubling realisation and he frowns at the ceiling. Despite not having any memories, how many of those insecurities had been Atem's own that he subconsciously reflected towards Yuugi's heart and by doing so unknowingly meddled with Yuugi's self-image as a whole? Objectively he knows that his emergence helped Yuugi gain confidence even though he didn't remember those first few times Atem took his place, but subjectively...? Atem's brows knit tighter together and he balls the hand that rests on his chest into a fist.

To call these thoughts troubling is an understatement. Suddenly Atem feels uncomfortably restless, he can't keep still, he needs space, he has to move. But moving would mean leaving the warm blankets and the even warmer form next to him and risk waking him in the process.

His chest feels so tight and it aches in a way Atem hasn't felt in millennia and he squeezes his eyes shut, holds his breath and with one swift movement pushes the blankets off of himself, sits up and rolls to the side to plant his feet onto the floor. The wood is cool under the bare soles of his feet and that sudden feeling makes him pause for a moment. He releases the breath he was holding.

It's almost funny how he already feels better. He glances over his shoulder to see if he had woken Yuugi up but the other youth seems undisturbed, still fast asleep. Relieved, Atem stands up... and doesn't know what to do. It's still practically night time and the house is silent. Mama Mutou and Grandpa will be getting up in one to two hours and Yuugi much later than that if his previous findings are to be trusted. Normally he would happily snooze the morning away with Yuugi but he doesn't want to go back to bed, the restlessness still buzzing under his skin even though that unpleasant tightness in his chest has ebbed and is now just a nuisance instead of actual, painful anxiety.

He turns around to face the bed so he can take another look at Yuugi, properly. A glance wasn't enough. Will never be enough, he realises all of a sudden. I want to be looking at Yuugi, and only Yuugi, forever. How can his heart feel so big and full but so small at the same time?

Atem is overwhelmed, not yet used to the absolute link between his feelings and his physical senses, and he lifts his hand once more to his chest, almost desperately grasping his shirt and pressing his fist against his heart, to feel the beat of it, and the warmth of his body.

He has this body now and he should be so, so thankful for it, but at this moment he can only feel guilt. He loves Yuugi but has still put him through so much and he knows, oh how he knows, that the trip to Egypt broke him. Atem had felt Yuugi mourn him weeks beforehand, felt his grief he so valiantly tried to conceal - too bad their bond at that point was the strongest it had ever been and Atem knew. It took everything in him to keep on going, to keep on telling himself that this was the right thing to do, this was how he could repay Yuugi's kindness and let him go on with his life, let him be free. He had heard the modern phrase “if you love them let them go”, and wouldn't that have been so grand? To prove his love in such a poetic, profound way?

All that in spite of Yuugi's feelings screaming at him that to be separated was the last thing he wanted.

Atem chuckles, a bitter taste in his mouth. Despite having shared such an extraordinary bond, communication had never been their strongest point, duels usually excluded, and talking about their feelings was not an exception. Still isn’t. They both had just kept on doing what they thought was the best for the other and in the process ended up wounding each other in ways that Atem isn't sure he can ever truly understand. Yesterday he had come down to the kitchen to find Yuugi folding laundry, eyes puffy and red, yet when he talked he sounded so happy. Atem had left it at that because there's nothing he could do when confronted by that smile that can put even the Sun in shade.

Slowly he realises that he's been staring at his partner for such a long time that it must be bordering on creepy. How did he get here from that warmth he first woke up to, from that love he so deeply feels for Yuugi? Why hasn’t he thought about these things before? It's like all he has in his head are questions with no answers to calm his mind. It's only been a week since... since it all should've ended, but didn't, all because of Atem's selfishness. Selfishness... and love. His own heart had broken when his life points counted down to zero and he saw the utter hopelessness he felt surface in his heart reflected right back at him on Yuugi's face. The memory of it is still so strong that he has to grit his teeth together to keep his jaw from trembling.

He hadn’t been able to stand that expression, to stand the knowledge that he was the cause of it. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t good enough. The pride he had felt toward Yuugi's skill was completely overshadowed by the grief that hit him in waves, his legs feeling like lead as he slowly walked to Yuugi, his own voice distant to his ears as he offered words of consolation and praise. Empty words, they were, he knew it then and he knows it now. How could he ever leave this person who had gone through so much for him, because of him, who had loved him so fully, who had risked it all to be there for him in his quest to regain his memories even when knowing that the price for that would be too steep to consider if Yuugi ever stopped to do that?

Atem had never wanted to leave. He had learned to live again, to have friends, and grow as a person, no matter how minuscule that growth might have been. Yuugi had been him and then Yuugi had become his world. There's no other way to explain it. As much as Atem had longed for his memories, for those people he loved and lost all those thousands of years ago, he couldn't bear the thought of losing another family. Even when the prize would be to regain his first one.

But he had to. He had thought he had to.

Yet when he was just about to take the last step, he had faltered. Had wondered - does it have to be this way? What if there's another choice he could make?

And the gods had answered him. He didn't have to beg, he didn't have to fight, he just had to ask.

Just ask.

It had been so simple, in the end, so effortless. Of course, Atem asked for that third choice - or didn't really even ask, he didn't dare, he wished for it, his heart on the verge of breaking a second time. He had been painfully aware of his friends behind him, holding their breaths, waiting for the end. Atem felt their feelings wrap around him like a cloak and he bore the weight of it, accepted it, as he couldn't quite believe that it would be that easy to stay. So he had wished.

And that wish had been granted.

And now he is here.

Standing in the middle of the floor in Yuugi's room while Yuugi sleeps, hands closed into fists, both grasping his shirt now, holding back tears that threaten to spill forth. Wondering why did he even put Yuugi through all that, when in the end, it was for nothing? Oh, he thinks, oh, how it hurts. His own shortcomings, his own pain, the pain that he had caused others. Especially the pain that he had caused Yuugi. He hadn’t deserved it, he never deserved something so cruel and insincere as Atem's decision to leave had been.

A sob wrangles itself up and out of his mouth, he's not able to stop it in time and that breaks his resolve. He sways on his feet as tears force their way out and streak his cheeks, fall into his shirt and seep into the fabric as he hiccups and tries half-heartedly to stop it. He shouldn't be crying, not after everything he’s done. He doesn’t deserve to feel so sorry for himself - he should be the one to take responsibility, to carry that burden without a hitch. But, the thing is… at this moment, he’s no longer the prince-then-pharaoh from 3000 years ago. He’s no longer the amnesiac spirit occupying the Puzzle. He’s not the King of Games.

At this moment, he’s just a 16-year-old boy who is desperately trying to deal with every responsibility he’s imagined are only his to bear and failing spectacularly. So he cries, and cries, and he can no longer see with how blurry his eyes have gone. He prays Yuugi won't wake up to it, he just has to suffer through it and he'll be fine. Crying is fine, actually. He would laugh at himself if he could - aren't tears an actual luxury, after all? He wasn't able to cry his own tears with his own body before, but now he can.

There's a hand on his shoulder and Atem's heart drops into his stomach - oh no, now he's woken up - then another on the other side, then a tug, and Atem follows blindly. He's guided back to the bed and coaxed to sit down where a warm body presses against him and he's enveloped in an embrace.

Atem finds that he can't talk, he tries to draw breath to get the words out but sobs are the only thing he can produce and finally, he hears a voice call his name. It's so soft and warm and loving that Atem somehow feels worse and buries his head into Yuugi’s shoulder, his chest heaving and he almost wails from the struggle of it.

“Shh, other me. Cry it out. It helps. I know.”

He listens to Yuugi and does just that. It’s not easy to give up the reins but with Yuugi by his side, he finds the will to allow himself to succumb. He clutches his partner's shirt, holds him and is held in return, and lets himself cry. Lets his tears come like he's never done before and faced with the force of them, he feels like there's no end to it.

But there is an end. After a period of time that feels like an eternity, his sobs subside, his tears slow down, and he feels like he can finally loosen his hold of Yuugi's shirt to let blood flow into his fingers again. His nose feels snotty and he's sure there's no dry spot left on his partner's clothes and somehow that thought makes him laugh.

“See? All better now,” Yuugi murmurs against his temple and presses his lips there. That sign of affection almost makes Atem's eyes well up but he squeezes them shut, refusing to start crying all over again. He feels drained and empty and he's pretty sure he should be ashamed. He had woken Yuugi up and made him comfort him without asking but all he can feel is gratitude. Gratitude and love and endless adoration.

“Aibou,” he sniffles, voice congested and raw. He means to thank him but his throat closes up, yet Yuugi seems to catch his meaning.

“No need,” the shorter of the two says and Atem can feel his smile against his skin, “it's okay. You're okay, we're okay, everything's okay.”

Atem wants to argue but finds no energy for it. And - as he thinks about it, he realises that Yuugi is right.

They're okay.

He wraps his arms properly around Yuugi and squeezes, sighing softly. His mind is comfortably quiet now and he presses his ear against Yuugi's chest, listening to the beat of his heart (his heart's heart?) and feeling his own fall smoothly into the same rhythm. It's natural, it's right.

“I think,” he manages to croak out, “that we need to talk.”

Yuugi holds him closer and nods before pressing his face into Atem’s hair.

“Yeah,” he replies, sounding relieved, “we sure do, other me.”

#ygo dm #yugioh #puzzleshipping #puzzlespace #puzzlejune2021 #puzzlejune #puzzlequiet #atem #yuugi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles #fanart #fanfic #this bad boy can fit so many headcanons and projection in it #i am in the possession of the crybaby beam and i'm not afraid to use it (for real though. my agenda is to Normalize Boys Crying)#(no i will not be taking criticism)

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littlemessyjessi · 3 years

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“Not My Bias”: Park Jimin Imagine: Plus Size Reader

Park Jimin Imagine Summary: Jimin is upset because he is not the chosen bias of his girlfriend but instead it's actually Namjoon. A/N: Also, this is just an imagine, a oneshot if you will. However, if you want to see more of the story, just let me know. Extra: Plus Size. Also, woman is older than the man by a few years. Pre-established relationship, Jimin is dating an Army, ft Platonic moments with Yoongi. Warning: Fluff, Angst, mentions of suicide and issues with mental health, arguing, jealously... teeeeennnnnnsssssiiiooonn. Anyway, yeah. ----

Flared nostrils and a deep breath.

'He's just having a day. Let it go. He's just in a mood.'

The thought swirled around in that head like smoke.

"Babe, you were all over him. I don't know how you can think that's ok? If I had done that to someone you would've flipped out!" Jimin's voice sounded.

Regardless of the fact that Jimin was continuously all over people because he was very affectionate and naturally flirty.

Also, regardless of the fact that he literally had millions of people ready to volunteer like Katniss for the Hunger Games at the drop of a hat.

Regardless of the fact that it was very much clear as to how much he was loved and adored by his partner.

Still.

'Don't snap. Don't lash out. Just let it go.'

The thought swirled less like smoke and more like the unstable circle of terror that was the beginnings of a hurricane.

"I mean, fuck, you might as well just be with him. You were practically eye fucking him right in front of me."

Stone cold.

Every thought brewing in that mind was screaming to let it go, to talk to him calmly, to just fix it.

But that's not what happened.

Because even though Jimin was clearly feeling insecure and it had turned into jealously... you had feelings too.

You slowly turned to look at him.

Jimin's gaze was hard as he looked back.

He had that about him where one second he could be cute and adorable and the next he could be very intimidating.

However, his duality was no match for yours in that moment.

"Jimin, you've got about three seconds to apologize." you said evenly.

"Apologize?" He scoffed. "For what? Apologize for calling the bullshit when I see my girlfriend trying to fuck one of my best friends right in front of me?"

That was it.

You had a long fuse on a big bomb and right now... you weren't just a stick of dynamite.

You were a nuclear bomb.

You ran your tongue over your teeth trying in vain to calm down.

"First of all, fuck you." you snapped and his brows lifted on his forehead. "Yeah I said it. Don't you ever insinuate that I am anything less to faithful to you. God dammit, Jimin. I didn't want to have a fucking fight with you but since you seem so hell bent on it, let's go. It's time for war, mother fucker."

His gaze intensified at your response, "Don't you talk to me like -"

"Me?!" you snapped. "You want to talk about me? You're the one who stood right there, basically called me a whore and accused me of fucking your friend! Who by the way, you owe a god damn apology to! He didn't do anything to you and you've been a dick the whole day!"

It was the wrong thing to say and you knew it.

Bringing up Namjoon during a fight, especially considering the context was the worse thing you could've done.

It further ignited his anger and his jealously all but consumed him.

But you didn't care.

He may have started the fire but you brought the gasoline.

"That's just great, Y/N. Wonderful. Exactly the way to convince your boyfriend that you're not fucking someone else. Defending them in the middle of an argument."

Your screaming had clearly drawn attention and the door opened to reveal Jin's concerned face.

He said something but the two of you were too far gone in trying to outscream each other to hear him.

"That you started!" you snapped at Jimin.

"I was trying to talk to you!"

"You were accusing me!"

"Because it was obvious!"

You were shaking when Yoongi's head popped in beside Jin's but you paid them no mind even when Hobi appeared in the doorway.

"Guys, come on." Hobi said trying to calm you both down. "Don't do this."

"Come on. Let's go get some food and chill out." Jin offered, knowing very well how Jimin's temper could be and also how he could say some horrible things when he really didn't mean them.

He had a sinking feeling that they'd already been said though and there wasn't much that could be done.

"What was so obvious to you, Jimin? Hm? I am a fan. You know this? I was an Army before I ever met you. This was abundantly clear to you from the beginning. Did you really think that there would never be moments when I wouldn't be starstruck occasionally?" you seethed. "Because I'm sorry I'm not perfect Park fucking Jimin! I'm human!"

His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not what this is about." he said.

"Yeah, the fuck, it is." you snapped. "Listen, I'm about to make myself abundantly clear about something. You don't fucking know me as well as you seem to think you do."

"Clearly." he responded and you had to fight the urge not to strangle him.

Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at Jimin and his fucking mouth.

The rest of the members had joined the chaos at this point and you... you just no longer cared.

You were ready to go to war.

Fuck it all.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, staring at the carpet before lifting your eyes up to Jimin's again.

"You seem to think that you have me completely figured out and you know everything about me. But you don't know shit, Jimin. Just because we've been dating for three months does not mean that you suddenly know every thought in my head. But you're about to find some shit out about me right now."

"You're right. I don't know wh-"

"Shut the fuck up." you said coldly. "You want to know so god damn badly why Namjoon is my bias? Fine, I'll tell you and you can either deal with it or you can continue to be a spoiled, selfish little brat. I don't really care anymore."

He would've fought you for calling him that but internally something stopped him.

"I was never into this type of music. It wasn't my thing. I listened to metal and classic rock. That was what I liked. So BTS was never really in my statosphere. But a few years ago, I was at my lowest. My husband had cheated on me leading me to file for an immediate divorce. I had just lost our baby and I was wrecked. I didn't want to do it anymore. So let me paint you a picture here, Jimin. I was standing in my childhood bedroom because I couldn't bare to be in that house where he fucked his secretary. I'm standing there in front of my little vanity from when I was a kid and I had my grandpa's pistol loaded, the barrel in my mouth. My finger was on the trigger and I started to press down."

Jimin, all with everyone else, had gone completely pale.

"And then suddenly my cousin's stereo starts thudding from the other side of the wall. And it's "Voice" from Joon's first mixtape and I stopped. Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood what I was going through. I put the gun down and I saw there on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall listening to that song. I cried until I couldn't breathe because no one had ever put my feelings into words like that before. That song. Those lyrics. They saved me. I put the gun away as if it had burned me, I cried because I had been so close to ending it all over someone else who wasn't worth it. I went home that night, researched the lyrics and figured out who wrote them and then I began listening to anything and everything that Namjoon had a hand in creating. Because it was those words that kicked me back off the ledge."

Jimin was completely still at this point.

No movement.

No sound.

No nothing.

You were staring straight into his soul in that moment.

"So you'll have to excuse me if ever so often I get a little starstruck with the person who literally wrote the wrong that kept me from killing myself." you said lowly.

You finally looked around to see the rest of the members there, skin heating with embarassment that they'd just watched you and Jimin verbally rip each other's throats out and then hear your suicide attempt story.

You looked at Jimin once more before you shook your head and pushed your way through the members.

Several tried to comfort you but you didn't want to hear it.

You just wanted out.

And that was exactly what you did, shoving through the door and disappearing from sight.

Immediately, upon the slam of the door, Jimin erupted into tears, crashing to the ground.

He hadn't known any of that.

Taehyung rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms and trying to calm him down enough to function.

Yoongi pursed his lips before going after you.

He knew what it was like to pick at old scars like that and how fresh those old wounds could still be.

He caught up to you rather easily, insisting that you let him take you out to eat.

You fought him on it but he did something that he rarely ever did.

He pulled out his super power on you and used his cuteness.

And you couldn't resist the lil meow meow so you caved... just like he knew you would.

You didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

Yoongi didn't push you and instead the two of just enjoyed a meal together.

You fought him over the check but he already slipped the waitress his card before you could even get a word in edgewise.

Then he took you to a local dog park, watching puppies chase their own tails because he knew it was impossible to watch dogs smack into each other and not smile.

He didn't force you to talk or to address what had just happened.

But what he did do was stay with you, offer you kindness, made sure you ate and did something that made you smile.

He reached out to place his hand on yours and gave it a squeeze.

"I won't pretend that I know what you've been through. I'm not that arrogant and I'm not you. But I do understand what it's like to get to a point where you don't want to do it anymore." he said as the two of you focused on a pomeranian with an attitude problem who reminded you both of Yeontan.

"You can talk to me. Anytime." he said. "I know I don't usually say alot but I'll listen. I promise."

"Thanks, Yoongi. I'm fine. I promise. I'm alot better now. I'm not the person I used to be. Things are different. Jimin just really hit a nerve with what he was saying and I snapped." you explained.

He nodded with a sigh.

"Jimin is someone who is full of emotion. He's passionate. That sometimes means that he loses his temper when he's scared. He loves you and he's more insecure about losing you than he lets on. He didn't express that in the right way at all. I won't defend him on that. I'm just saying, don't give up just because you two had a fight. A hell of one, mind you. Do you realize that you're terrifying when you're angry?"

You finally broke into a laugh at his words.

"I thought Jimin was the scary one." you commented, knowing very well that every single one of them collectively thought Jimin was terrifying when he was really angry.

"Shit, he's a punk compared to you." Yoongi chuckled. "You looked like an absolute demon. If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed sweet Y/N looked like she was forged in the fires of hell."

You nearly snorted at his response before finally looking over at him.

"Thanks, Yoongi. Really. You made me feel a lot better." you admitted. "I'm glad you came after me. This was much better than how I likely would've handled it."

"How would you have handled it?" he questioned.

"Probably something self sabotaging and toxic as hell." you shrugged. "Or maybe I just would've cried when I cooled off. Or took off. I've been known to jump in the car and just keep driving when I'm angry. It's literally me running from my problems but for the lazy because fuck that. I'm not running from anybody. Zombies can just eat this ass."

He shook with laughter.

It was one of the reasons he liked you a lot and he thought you were perfect for Jimin.

You were naturally funny and had a great wit about you... and you were tough.

You needed to be tough if you were going to date someone who worked in the business they did.

You don't fall in love with the idol, you fall for the person.... but that person still has a job and to be their partner is really hard.

It wasn't for the weak of heart.

The two of you sat there for a while.

You'd turned your phone off almost instantly as soon as you cleared the building, not even entertaining the thought of dealing with any questions.

You assumed that Yoongi had likely told someone he was with you since he'd been with you for hours and no one was calling him.

You took in his profile as he watched a squirrel run up a tree.

You could practically see him thinking.

"Just spit it out." you sighed and his lips quirked just a little before looking at you.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" he questioned.

"Because, unfortunately, we are too much alike in some ways." you said.

He chuckled, "All I'm going to say is, cut Jimin some slack. He's crazy about you. Anyone can see that. And also, give him a chance to digest everything you just told him today. That was a lot. You know that better than anyone."

"I didn't mean to tell him like that." you shrugged. "I didn't mean to tell him that at all."

"Why not?" Yoongi asked, very seriously. "You love Jimin right?"

"Yeah, of course." you said.

"And you trust him?" he said.

"Yeaaahhh." you said.

"Then how come you haven't talked to him about that before?" he asked.

"Because we've only been together for three months, Yoongi and we haven't spent a ton of time with one another in those three months. You don't just blurt your past suicide attempts out to people like that." you all but snapped.

You were getting defensive and he knew it.

But Yoongi also knew that you were only being like that because he'd hit a nerve.

He knew because he was like that at times.

"You were friends before you got together." he pointed out. "I know you're an Army. I get it. But you and Jimin clicked at that fan event that day. Don't get me wrongs. He's a hopeless flirt but Jimin has never willingly forked over his phone number like that. He didn't even know your name and he was hooked."

You ground your teeth because you knew he was right.

"All I'm saying is, give him a chance. He's jealous of Joon. He can't help it. A part of him wants to be your bias because he's your boyfriend. I can get that." Yoongi shrugged.

"It's not like Joon is my bias is a romantic way, Yoongi." you sighed. "I literally just -"

"I know." Yoongi cut you off. "I know. I get it. Trust me. We are all painfully aware of that situation now."

You chewed on your lip, vulnerable at having your business out there like that.

"Hey." he said reaching for your hand. "I didn't meant that to come off the way it did. I'm glad we know. I wish you hadn't felt like you were so backed into the corner that you had to come out with it like that. But still, it's good to know that about you. I think it'll bring us closer as a group."

You just nodded.

He sighed, "Listen, I'm gonna tell you something that I think we'll help. Men are rather simple in a lot of ways. Some not so much but others- incredibly so."

You lifted a brow at him.

"Ok?"

"Explain that Joon's work inspires you and it helped you through a lot." he said.

"I literally just-"

"No, stop and listen to me." he cut you off. "Explain that you admire Namjoon and his work. You love his writing. This is also true for me or Hobi right? You and I have talked for hours about some of my stuff and I know you and Hobi sat there and dissected Hope World for like three days. You admire the work, the lyrics, the content, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know that it's a little different with Joon because his song was the first one you'd heard and it was a rather traumatic time. So there's somewhat of an emotional attachment there. And honestly, I think that's what Jimin is so scared of." he said.

"Scared of what? It's music and yeah, I love the way Joon writes and yeah it was a crazy time but I'm in love with Jimin." you argued.

"Jimin is scared that Namjoon could take you away from him." Yoongi said directly.

"What?" you gasped. "But I love Jimin."

"I know that." Yoongi said. "Everyone knows that. But he also knows how much you obsess over anything Joon writes."

"It's good music." you said.

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, it is. But Jimin has likely got it in his head that you could easily just run off with Joon and have this philosophical conversations about poetry and lyrics. I'd be willing to be money on it that he's insecure because you didn't start out loving BTS, you started out loving RM. And that scares him."

"It was never about loving RM or BTS." you countered. "I needed those lyrics. I liked RM as a musician. I liked BTS as a group. But I fell in love with Jimin. And I'll tell you another god damn thing, I never fucking meant to either! I didn't want to love anyone after that shit happened!"

Your temper was flaring, which truthfully was dangerous, as Yoongi could match you in it.

But he also realized you were just very sensitive right now and not actually angry so he just watched you calmly.

"I didn't want to fall in love with anyone. Ever again, Yoongi. I was terrified. I'm still terrified. But I met Jimin and he fucking smiled at me and I crumbled. It wasn't really about me falling in love with him. I jumped head first into the darkness because even though it scared me shitless, I didn't care. He's worth it. No matter what."

You didn't realize that you'd gotten to your feet until Yoongi was smiling at you and he gently nodded over your shoulder.

You turned around and there he was.

Of course.

Jimin.

With his expressive dark eyes and his dreamy lips.

As cliche as it is, it was almost as if time stopped.

There was nothing else but Jimin and you.

It became a race to get to one another and as soon as you got within arms reach of each other, your kisses were feverent.

"I'm sorry's" and "No I'm sorry" and "You didn't do anything wrong" "I was just jealous" "No, no, no"

They all clanged together in a jumbled mess of mutterings slurred with kisses.

"Joon is not my bias, Jimin." you breathed.

"Baby, it's fine. It's not a big deal. I just got a little -"

"No, listen." you breathed. "He's not. I admire him. I admire his work. But he's not my bias. I don't have a bias."

Jimin pulled back to look at you, "What?"

"I don't have a bias." you clarified. "I don't pick favorites."

"Uh..." he said.

"I don't have a bias." you repeated. "But I do have something else. Something super special."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"A keeper." you said.

"A keeper?" he asked.

"Yep, the keeper of my heart. Only one person can be that and that's you."

It was cheesy.

Ridiculously so.

But Jimin melted for you and he squeezed your soft body to his so tightly that you could barely breathe.

And all the while, Min Yoongi sat on that park bench, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Smug grin ever permanent on his impish features.

"Lil Meow Meow strikes again..." he whispered to himself.

------

—-

Hey loves!

I hope you enjoyed and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

If you’re interested in any of my other BTS works you can find the masterlist HERE

Love,

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secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer · 4 years

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Invisible String (Harry Styles x Reader)

(Soulmate AU)

A/N: Got inspired with this while listening to Taylor Swift’s Invisible string, hence the title. It took me a really long time to write this, hope you like it!

Warnings: none

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected by an invisible red thread, how would you find yours?

“Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I’ll pull him to me.”

“Honey, you know that’s not how it works, right?” My Mom leaned forward and placed her hand on my arm, she looked genuinely concerned for me.

“Mom, you got it easy. You were fifteen when you bumped into dad. Literally. And here I am, twenty-six and still don’t know who is my soulmate,” My voice rising slowly as I pushed her hand away from me, I was getting rather frustrated having the same conversations over and over again.

“Oh don't be so dramatic, your Grandma was thirty-five when she met your Grandpa and you know how happy they were. You'll find him," my mom tried to reassure me. Again. “Or her," tilting her head to the side, she added as an afterthought.

I almost wanted to roll my eyes, my Grandma was a very patient lady, unfortunately, she didn't pass down the trait to me.

I had been waiting for my soulmate ever since I turned five and sort of understood the concept. Invisible red strings. Fate. The one.

My parents sat me down one fine day and explained to me how two people that were meant to be together were connected by an invisible red thread tied to their little fingers.

All I asked them at the time was if the thread was invisible, how did people know it was red. They told me I'll find out in due time.

I still didn't know the answer to that.

But after my five-year-old brain had absorbed the newly received information, I got obsessed with finding my soulmate.

There was something incredibly reassuring about having someone only meant for you. But wrapped around it was the uncertainty of how and when and you will find them, or even if you'll find them.

After that day, I would constantly find myself reaching for my pinky finger, a calmness washing over me, a hope to find someone, and call them mine.

My friends and I spent hours discussing our soulmates, what they would look like, how would we meet them, and so on. Our parents would look at us and coo, mostly finding this adorable, reminding them of a time when they were young and probably did the same.

That's how things worked.

I was ten and had left my obsession behind. I still found comfort in my little finger during times of sadness and anger.

One night in the middle of June, after a big fight with my parents, I ran up to my room, plopped myself on the bed, and let loose all the emotions building up in me.

It was a few hours later when my breathing calmed down and the tears on my cheeks dried when my left hand reached for my pinky, and my fingers felt a soft textured thread reaching out from it.

My eyes widened as I looked down at my hands but found nothing, only my fingers wrapped around what seemed to be air, a few inches in front of my right hand's littlest finger.

I could not comprehend what had happened and chalked it up to delusions due to my tiredness.

The next morning I woke up, groggy, my hands automatically reached for the supposed string that I could feel the previous night and found that I could still touch it. "Maybe I am still tired," I convinced myself before sleeping for another few hours.

It was after spending a few days just feeling out the string that I realised I could touch the red string of fate.

My parents didn't believe so, they thought I was still a delusional kid with my head up in the clouds. They found it cute for a couple of days, happy that I was still interested in finding a soulmate, but then my constant attempts at convincing them that it was true got annoying for them.

No one seemed to believe me, and my friends thought I was lying for attention.

Nothing like this had ever happened. Fate worked mysteriously, fate worked behind the scenes. No one was supposed to know how, it just worked. I must be lying.

Since no one believed me, I found solace in my thread, in my soulmate. I tried pulling the string, hoping the one on the other side would reply, would pull it towards them as well. But nothing.

I guessed maybe they couldn't feel the string as well, just like everybody else. But my soulmate was not like everybody else. If I could touch the thread then they could as well, after all, our souls were connected. Maybe they just didn't want me.

I never stopped though, just like my pinky had become my safety blanket, I found a new comfort in pulling the thread, twisting it between my fingers, still praying that my other half could feel it, even if they didn't respond.

I would spend hours trying to follow the thread, but it seemed endless and at the time, my block was where my world ended. My soulmate was way out of my reach.

Three months later, in the middle of my English class, I felt it. A tug. I looked down, before realising I could not see it. I almost laughed at my stupidity, but it was clear as day, my soulmate had responded.

My head shook as a slow smile crept up my face and I couldn't stop the sigh leaving my mouth. My classmates probably worried about my sanity, shaking my head and smiling at nothing sitting in the centre of the classroom. But I didn't care.

Knowing that there indeed was someone on the other side was like finding a piece of land after a lifetime at sea. I didn't waste a second to reply and received a tug again. I smiled, he was here and he was here to stay.

It was the start of something new. Every time, one of us felt down or lonely or happy we would pull at our thread, we now had someone to share those moments with.

I didn't know if his family or friends knew about us, but it felt like our secret.

Over the years, we formed this new language between us. Sometimes, we would pull the thread at the same time, or wait for the other to respond but no one would. It was uncoordinated and messy, like two drunk people attempting to dance, but it was ours.

I was eighteen when I figured a way to enhance our communication. Morse code.

It was some random detective show that gave me the idea and it seemed perfect. I just didn't know how to communicate this to him.

It took me less than a month to learn morse code. After I was done learning, I tried pulling at the thread in a specific pattern ‘Hey Soulmate’.

He wouldn't understand the message, but I prayed he would realise what it was.

He did.

Somehow, my soulmate had lost the ability to disappoint me. I smiled at the thought.

It took weeks of incomprehensible back and forth between us for us to finally be able to understand each other. It was hard, but we achieved it.

I realised two things from our exchanges.

One- My soulmate was a dork, his dad jokes were endless and two- I loved every second of it.

He would start pulling at the string in the middle of the night and I had to grab the notepad and pencil from my bedside table and decipher his messages half-asleep. And It would end up being some lame knock-knock joke.

You bet I laughed every time.

Which always led me to wonder what it would be like to actually be with him. How would he be as a partner? Would he hold my hand walking down the street? Would he kiss me in front of his friends? What nickname would he give me or would he give me any at all?

I spent most of my time talking to Harry, whose name I had learnt in one of our earliest full conversations.

My parents let it slide, believing it to be some teenage issues. My friends were lucky enough to have found their own soulmates at a young enough age and were too busy being in love.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" I asked him one night.

I kept staring at the neon stars on my ceiling. Trying to conjure his face in my mind as I waited for his response, but didn't feel the now familiar tug that carried his replies.

It seemed like hours before my little finger was finally pulled at. With my notepad and pencil at the ready, I was prepared to write. “A musician”.

The corners of my mouth were pulled upwards and I imagined a young faceless man with a guitar in his hand performing in a stadium for thousands of people.

A laugh left me when I pictured him ending his concert with a final joke. People would groan at him but laugh nonetheless. They would love him too.

My mind then wandered to a future where he was performing at the Madison Square Garden, people screaming I love you from the audience. A huge smile gracing his lips. He would then came home late at night after the concert and lay down on the bed next to me. He would wrap his arm around my sleeping form and whisper I love you in my ear and I would respond with a sleepy mmph. He would smile down at me and eventually fall asleep too.

I looked down at the thread which was still pulling but all I could catch was a question mark. I cursed myself for not paying attention and asked him to repeat his question.

“What about you, Lovie?"

I stilled. Lovie? A nickname. So he was a nickname kinda guy.

I almost forgot to reply to him. But then instantly hit him back with a “Journalist”.

My pinky was pulled again, “Maybe that is how we will cross paths”.

I liked the thought.

"Owww," my right hand was pulled harshly when I stood up to submit my English assignment, causing me to fall forward. I was confused for a few seconds, trying to piece what caused it, but found nothing.

I looked around as everyone was laughing at my clumsiness, still dazed, I stood up and placed my essay on my teacher's table who looked at me with her eyebrows furrowed in concern, her lips parted to whisper "Are you okay?"

I nodded my head and returned to my seat, head down and my thoughts racing a thousand miles a minute. Before it clicked, Harry. I couldn't believe he made me fall down on purpose, or maybe it was an accident.

“Sorry”

I shook my head at my clumsy partner and focused on my teacher who had started talking about something else already.

I wasn't going to let the incident go that soon. During our next conversation, instead of sending him a reply, I held onto the soft, invisible thread tightly and yanked it towards me.

Not getting a reply soon after, I started worrying I had actually hurt him. Panic flowed through me, this was an insane idea, why would I do that? What if he was driving? What if he was at a height?

“Owww”

I admit I laughed, the incident wasn't hilarious enough to call for that level of laughter, but I did.

All my panic had immediately flown out of me. I loved it; before he pulled his end of the string again and made me fall down.

Thus, welcomed a new addition to our language.

We would yank our strings during mid-conversations, making the other fall down wherever they were. Did injury turn us on? We never tried to guess.

Moving to college was harder than I thought, I didn't know if I was moving closer to Him or farther away.

I considered asking him where he lived, but shook the thought away, we had promised not to reveal to each other any of our identifiable qualities except for our first names. We wanted to leave some things up to the true mastermind, Fate.

Going to New York University was my dream. Receiving my acceptance letter was an emotional moment for me, it took my Mom like an hour to calm me down enough to actually read the letter.

So, physically being here, standing in my dorm room was another level of excitement. I was ready to bedazzle the world with my writing.

"Ouch," someone came rushing into me from the back. I turned around to look at the person who bumped into me, only to find a five-foot-something, brown-haired girl standing in front of me, rubbing her forehead.

"Hi."

"Hello, you must be the roommate. I'm Olivia, what about you?" Her eyes held a curious gaze, as she extended her right hand towards me.

"Y/n," I placed my hand in hers and shook it lightly, having a good feeling about her.

"Y/n, brace yourself, we're gonna be best friends for a really long time."

I knew it.

During my time at NYU, Olivia really did become my best friend, she introduced me to her soulmate, Ashley, who was somehow an even bigger bundle of joy than Liv. I didn't know that was possible.

"Who're those guys?"

"Hmm?"

"In your poster, I have always wanted to ask you that," I pointed at the big poster Liv had stuck on her wall in our first year.

She looked at me, her brows raised up to her forehead and her mouth agape, "You don't know One Direction?"

"I mean, I have heard of them. Are they any good?" I remembered my friends back home making me listen to a song of theirs, "What makes you beautiful', it was catchy but I never dug deeper into them. I didn't even know why.

"Only the best," her mouth was set into a hard line, but her forehead was covered in creases as though she was thinking deeply about something.

"Come on, I'll show you their songs. I don’t why we’ve never done this before.”

This commenced a whole night of one direction albums, music videos, their documentary, and their recent concert film. She even called Ashley to our room, which began an intense lesson on the fandom ships, theories, and dramas. It was a busy night.

By the next day, I was more knowledgable about one direction than I had ever intended to be. I didn't it mind it though, I got to further learn the inner makings of my best friend.

I had to admit, I was a little partial towards Harry Styles, his name had become a personal favourite of mine. Plus, he was cute.

I also noticed how clumsy he was on stage. Constantly falling down, mid-performances. It was hilarious. Olivia told me that's just how he was. Goofy, dorky, always telling lame jokes.

“Do you know one direction?”

I waited for his reply, this one took longer than our previous ongoing conversation. I didn't like it when he replied late.

“Yes.”

“Olivia introduced me to them.”

“Who do you like the best?”

I didn't even have to think about it at all, “Harry styles.”

I hoped he was smiling, where ever he was.

“Really? Not my personal favourite.”

That idiot. My face was hurting from smiling so much. I wondered how I would even be in this guy's presence without physically hurting my cheeks.

But I knew I wouldn't mind it, as long as I could be with him.

“Who do you like then?”

“You.”

I had never known how successful my dream of becoming a journalist could be. All I knew of back then was my talent for writing and my passion to make my voice heard. And it was all I had ever needed.

Rolling Stone was a magazine only a few could say they were not familiar with. And even fewer who wrote for it.

I was one lucky girl, who worked through countless unpaid internships before finally landing a job at this prestigious place. I had written quite a few articles under the politics section of the magazine.

I kept up with Harry over the years, at this point I knew basically everything about him, except for what he did for a living, where he lived, and who he was. But I loved him. And I waited for him, even if did get tiring at times.

Everywhere I went, it felt like everyone had found their soulmates except for me. I was the one girl standing alone in the middle of a dance floor during a couple's song.

All these years he still seemed none the closer to me.

We still found joy in tripping each other during random hours of the day though; Falling for him was the highlight of my day.

"Maybe if I yank it hard enough, I'll pull him to me."

I had a rocky relationship with my parents, they had never believed in me, too busy in their own love story to pay attention to their only daughter. I couldn't hold it against them though if you had something as beautiful as they did, why would you focus on anything else.

I sigh in bitterness as my Mom rambled on about how she met my Dad. Although I had heard the story a billion times, it still made me smile. Then, reminded me how I didn't have that.

My phone started vibrating next to me, I looked at it to find it was my boss calling me. I tilted my head upwards, trying to recall if I had informed her of my visit to my parents' house. I had.

Confused, I picked up the phone, "Y/N, you need to come to the office now. We need you to take over the article Rob Sheffield was supposed to write," my boss's commanding voice instantly hits my ears, making me flinch backwards.

"Wait, what?"

"Rob had an urgent business to attend to and you are the only replacement available." Her voice carried her usual urgency.

"But Rob is a music journalist, I write politics." Her words were rushing past me and it was getting harder for me to keep up.

"Obviously I know that, but as I said you are the only replacement available, everyone else is already working on their pieces. Come to the office and get your assignment. Now." When I was told my boss did not joke around, they were not kidding.

As soon as she hung up, I started packing up my stuff. I explained to my Mom about the situation, her shoulders slumped, I knew she really wanted to spend more time with me, but she sighed, nodding her head in understanding.

Walking into the Rolling Stone's office every day still brought me back to my first day here. When I was a twenty-three-year-old naive girl, with a heart full of determination and a head full of ideas.

The elevator doors opened and my eyes fell upon the old Rolling Stone covers hung from the wall, they looked like gold records in a music studio. I walked down the lobby to the reception and asked Ally if my boss was available.

I knocked at her door, patiently waiting for her to invite me in. Three years later and I was still deathly afraid of her.

"Y/n, you are going to interview Harry Styles. You'll leave for LA tomorrow morning, and meet him first thing after landing, hang out with him a couple days, get to know him, this is going to be the cover story. I know music is not your department but right now I really don't have any other option. Do your research all day today, we'll publish the article in next month's issue. It better be good." She clicked her fingers, pointing them at me and then shooed me away from the entrance of her cabin.

"Harry Styles huh," I walked towards my desk remembering all the late-night dance parties I had with Liv and Ashley during college, blasting all of One direction's hits, discussing fan theories and whatnot.

The familiar pull nay yank brought me back to the present, on my office floor, with my colleagues watching over the all too familiar scene.

A smile graced my lips, at this point I had lost the ability to feel shame. I sat down on my desk and pulled at my thread.

“You will pay for this.”

“I am ready when you are, Lovie.”

How was our relationship ever going to work if I was ready to melt any time he called me that.

I knew he was waiting for me to trip him, but I didn't. I would get him when he wouldn't expect it. Not today sir, not today.

I went to start researching on Harry Styles and preparing my questions for tomorrow. A groan escaped my lips as I slammed my forehead on the table, this was not enough time.

Harry Styles was a multi-millionaire, platinum record selling artist with millions of fans. He was portrayed to be this womaniser, who played with people's hearts. But, the first thing I learnt about him during my research was of his kind heart.

I surfed through countless videos of his interactions with fans, clips from his concerts, conversations with paparazzi and not once did I find him in a bad mood or as someone less than the absolute model of perfection. Everybody had bad days, well everyone but Mr.Styles apparently.

As someone only writing about the people in power; the politicians, the stark deviance from my usual subjects was a well-welcomed change.

He was a part of various charities, always preaching about love and kindness. Honestly, I was a little jealous of how lucky his soulmate was, to have someone like him.

After reading possibly everything I could about Harry, I started working on the questions I would ask him. I was determined to know how he managed to be the way he was. How he remained calm even after constantly being harassed by fans and paps alike; How after all these years, he still didn't let the fame get to his head.

I woke up the next morning feeling weird tingles in my stomach, I wasn't able to determine if it was good or bad. I went about my usual routine trying to ignore the tingly feeling. I read through my questions again, I had formed a sort of admiration for Harry (the singer) and I wasn't going to embarrass myself when it mattered the most.

I checked myself in the mirror one last time, feeling good with the outfit I went for- a tan, high-waisted lace-up jumpsuit. My confident outfit seemed like compensation for the nerves running through my body.

My mind wandered to my soulmate for a second, wondering what he must be up to right now. I looked up at myself in the mirror again and saw the smile on my face. Only for you, partner. I shook my head, picked up my suitcase and left for the airport.

The last thing I wanted to do after a six-hour flight was to meet an international celebrity, but I shrugged, a job was a job.

The deli we were supposed to meet at was a quaint place, the two ladies working there were incredibly sweet. They greeted me with the widest smiles and escorted me to a semi-secluded corner when I told them about the purpose of my visit. They doted about Harry, who I concluded was a regular here, calling him 'my love'.

Harry hadn't arrived yet and I was starving, the fragrance of different foods in the deli wafted to my nose, serving as a constant reminder of my hunger. The ladies whose names I had learnt to be Gloria and Raisa noticed my condition and offered to bring me a sandwich, but I declined the offer, not wanting to order before Harry's arrival, considering it to be a bit rude.

But, ever the saviour Harry entered the deli soon after, I admit I released a long breath in relief, I would finally get to order.

Harry's presence was like a force of nature, no one could escape it. I stood up from my seat, without thinking twice as if something compelled me to honour it. I couldn't pry my eyes away from him, and I didn't want to. Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion.

Every step of his brought him closer to me, the weird tingles I had been feeling all morning intensified, crawling up to every part of my body. I wanted something, anything to help me ground myself.

My hands frantically searched around for my thread, and as soon as my fingers made contact with the string of fate, the familiar calm washed over me.

Maybe in my frantic state, I pulled the string too hard. I winced, almost closing my eyes as Harry's expression changed into one of panic, his eyes widening as he fell forward. I worried about my Harry as well, realising how hard I must have pulled the thread.

Oh.

OH.

I rushed towards Harry, helping him up. When my hand touched his bicep, a warmth started flooding through my veins, locking eyes with him, I knew he was experiencing the same thing as well.

We both looked down towards our hands and a red string was seen connecting our pinkies. We met each other's eyes again.

"Hi," he gave me a toothy grin. I could die a thousand times for his smile.

"Hello," his eyes, a little sunken, were the most beautiful green I had ever seen, I could spend a lifetime getting lost in them.

"Well since I've already fallen for you, how abou' we go out to eat something. Oh wait, we're already here." His chest was out, and his eyes gleamed at his statement, he was weirdly proud of his jokes.

My entire body shook, I didn't know if I was laughing at his ‘Pick up line' or the situation. I was standing in front of my soulmate, whom I've pined after all my life, only for him to turn out to be Harry fucking Styles.

His brows furrowed in concern as I continued laughing, even he realised his joke was not funny enough to prompt this big of a guffaw.

I took a step back, my hands reaching up to rest on the sides of my face, tears were streaming down my face from laughing too much. Harry's contorted face making me laugh louder. I could not stop.

He reached out his hands and wrapped them around mine. I noted how big his hands were compared to mine, warmer too. "Hey, are you okay?"

I nodded my head, taking deep breaths to calm myself. When I seemed to have a hold on my laugh, another round burst from me. I started shaking again.

At this point, Harry had given up on me and started laughing as well. We were garnering unneeded attention but we couldn't stop. I noticed from the corner of my eyes, Gloria and Raisa were hovering around us protectively, not letting anyone come near us. Angels.

After several minutes or hours, we stopped for good. And even though my stomach was hurting like a bitch, my smile couldn't have been wider.

"So, it's you huh," I started, bringing Harry to my table, "My soulmate heh." My palms were getting sweaty, I tried to subtly wipe them on my pants.

He sat across me, reaching out and grabbing my hands in his again. I changed our hand positions, interlocking my fingers with his. The red string between us lengthening and shortening constantly, conforming to our movements.

He nodded, a smile ever-present on his face. He released a small breath, his shoulders slumped slightly, "I've dreamed of this moment for years. It's good to finally meet you, Lovie."

A weird gurgle-like sound left my mouth. My eyes widened as I covered my mouth, horrified and embarrassed at the same time.

He just looked amused, raising his eyebrows as if to ask me what the fuck was that.

"It's just, it keeps hitting me that this moment is real. That you are here in front of me and you are the Harry Styles-" my eyes continued to dart down to the striking red colour of the thread I was so accustomed to not seeing "-But like you are also just Harry, who I've known all my life."

"I get tha', I do," he nodded fervently, "All my life, I pictured a faceless girl when I imagined a life with you. Now everything seems complete, like the final piece of the puzzle has been placed and I can see my life as a whole picture and I see you with me," he then shrugged his shoulders, wanting to be seen nonchalant.

Hearing him reflect on everything that I've been feeling as well, brought tears in my eyes. He noticed my eyes getting glassy,

"Was it too much too soon?" His fingers were slightly tapping on the table, he kept looking down at our joined hands and biting his lips. My eyes fell to his lips, I hadn't noticed how pink they were.

"No, no, not at all," my hold on his hands tightened as I shook my head, trying to ease his nerves as well.

I went silent for a minute, not sure if I should continue before starting to tap a pattern on the table. One I hoped he would get without having to write it down.

“I love you.”

If the smile on his face were to say anything, it was that he got it. Of course, he would.

Our fingers started to tingle, pulling our attention towards them as we watched the red string starting to disappear.

When it seemed to be fully gone, I traced my hand around the table, checking if I could still feel it, I couldn't. It had really gone away.

I knew this would happen, but it didn't make saying goodbye any easier. Harry brought our hands together again, catching my attention again, "I don't need the string any more, I have you in my arms now." He rested his forehead on mine, breathing slowly.

He then brought my hands up to his lips and pressed a soft kiss on my knuckles. Causing a soft gasp to leave my lips. I swear he would kill me one day.

"I love you too, Lovie."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #soulmate au #fluff #harry styles fluff #invisible string #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n

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kining-the-evil · 3 years

Text

Coming out

Ransom Drysdale x daughter!reader lesbian!reader

Summary: Jacob finds out your gay, and decides to spill it to the whole family at dinner.

Warning ⚠️: Please be aware that this contains forced coming out, and the use of the F slur. I monetize it, and blurb the word so it’s not technically there but it’s obvious what the word was. IF THIS TRIGGERS YOU PLEASE DONT READ!!!

———————————————————————

"How about we go to an early diner, then the 5 o'clock showing?" Lily offered. I was laying on my bed while on the phone.

"That should work, you know I'm always free."

"Will your dad know where you are?" She asked making me role my eyes.

"I'll tell him I'm meeting some friends." My dad was hardly ever home with me anyways.

"You know at some point you will have to tell him right?" She asked making me sigh. I could not for the life of me figure out how he would react if I came out to him. He was an asshole, and certain parts of the family definitely would not support, but at the same time we hardly ever stuck around for the political argument.

"I will, but I've told you about my family. I just want to wait until I have a backup plan. We graduate in a year anyways. Then I'll take you far far away and treat you like a queen." I explained, thinking about what our life could be after high school.

"You already treat me like one." She chuckled. "And you know I will support you with whenever you decide to."

"I'm gonna go let my dad know I'm leaving then I'll be over to pick you up. Sound good?" She hummed in agreement and we both said goodbye before hanging up. I pulled some shoes on, and made sure I looked presentable before heading downstairs. I could hear my dad moving around in the kitchen as I pulled in a light sweater.

"Dad, I'm hanging out with some friends tonight." I called out walking towards the door.

"No your not!" He called back making me freeze. I turned around to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against it.

"Why?"

"Family dinner tonight." He explained making me role my eyes.

"Do I really have to go? The only people I talk to are you and great grandpa, and I see you both all the time."

"Don't be dramatic. I'm sure you talk to the rest of them." He said rolling his eyes.

"Oh really? Grandma and grandpa barely tolerate me, Donna, Walt, and Jacob hate me, Joni does that weird mix of trying to be a mother figure and guilt tripping me, and Meg hates me for the simple fact of being your daughter. The only other person who's sort of ok is Marta, but she doesn't work tonight." I counted each person on my fingers as I spoke making him chuckle and shake his head.

"You know there will be a fight and we will leave early, and nothing is happening tomorrow. Just go out with your friends after diner." He explained, waving his hand as though say that's the end of it.

I sighed but pulled my phone out send a text to Lily letting her know what happened. She agreed to meet me latter tonight, saying that there is a latter showing of the movie we want to see.

———————

"The favorite great grandchild is here!" I called out as we walked into the house. I could hear a few groans from the other room, and as I pulled my jacket off some walked over to greet us.

"Nice to see you Ransom." My great grandfather said greeting my dad. "And hello dear!" He said walking over to me, giving me a side hug. "We gonna play a game of Go later?"

"Only if you want to be beat old man."

"Oh! We will see about that!" He said chuckling as we made our way towards the main room. I could hear people arguing, so my dad must be in there already.

No one paid me any attention as I sat down next to my dad. Meg was practically screaming at my dad while he just sat there smirking.

"Meg, please sit down, Ransom, do you really need to start this already?" My grandmother finally said, trying to calm everyone.

"I didn't do anything! Just sat down." My dad claimed throwing his arms up. I chuckled at all the commotion, knowing damn well that my dad had said something to piss Meg off.

"What are you laughing at f&$#*" I felt everyone in the room freeze when they heard that. I turned my head slowly to the side to see Jacob looking up at me.

"W-what?" I whispered, still in shock of what happened.

"You heard exactly what is said. I asked what you were laughing at f&$#*" He stated.

"Jacob what the hell?!" Meg asked, all her anger from a moment pointed at him now.

"What?! It's true, I saw her kissing some girl at the park the other day."

"Come on." My dad mumbled grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to my feet.

"Ransom just wait a moment, give Jacob a chance to explain himself. I'm sure-"

"Walt, if I 'give him a mom to explain himself' I will end up punching a child." He snapped turning to look at Walt.

"I mean, give him the benefit of the doubt. She shouldn't hide stuff like that, and F&$-"

"If you say, that GOD DAMN WORD ABOUT MY DAUGHTER AGAIN YOU WILL REGRET IT!" He yelled stepping closer to Walt. "And wether she's gay or not, it's non of your fucking business. She's 17, almost an adult, and can make her own decisions. Also, if she likes girls, I get it. I like pussy to. Now we are gonna leave, and if I find out you, your wife, or your son try to contact her, you will be sorry." He took a step away from Walt so he could look at the rest of them. "If any of you contact her before she's ready, you will be sorry."

Once he was done he stormed off towards the door and I followed behind. He only stoped to let me put my jacket on, and as I did my great grandfather squeezed my shoulder a bit. "Have a good night dear." He whispered before going back to the rest of the family.

The car ride home was silent, and I had chosen to sit in the back so I wouldn't have to look my dad in the face. His hands were tightly gripping the steering wheel, and he was driving significantly over the speed limit. Once him he didn't say a word to me or wait for me before heading inside. I stayed in the car for a moment, laying my head on the seat in front of me. Why, out of everyone did it have to be Jacob who saw me with Lily?

After almost 10 minutes I made my way into the house. Sad was sitting on the couch, and I tried to sneak past him but he heard me anyways. "Y/n, come here please." He said the moment my foot touched one of the stairs.

Silently I made my way over to the couch, and sat down. Nether of us spoke for a few moments.

"Was Jacob telling the truth?" He asked finally looking over at me. I felt like I was going to die right then and there, I didn't want to tell him, but I couldn't lie at this point ether.

"Ya, he was." I whispered.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"Yep,"

"That's who you've been hanging out with?"

"Ya."

"How long have you known?"

"I don't know." I sighed, getting a bit irritated. “Some time in middle school maybe.” He was silent for a few minutes, witch just caused my anxiety to worsen.

“You know I cried when I first held you.” I looked over at him surprised, I had never seen him cry. “I was 16 and Terrified, your mother planed to move away within days after you were born. I was so scared I wouldn’t be a good dad, that I would fuck you up. But t he moment I held you in my arms I knew i loved more then every member of our fucked up family combined.” He pauses for a second, reaching up to wipe away the tear that had somehow escaped.

“I’m sorry that Jacob did that. I plan to try and talk with Walt and Donna, he had no right to act like that.”

“Don’t, you know it will only lead to more drama.” I said. “So your not mad I didn’t tell you?”

“Of course not, that was your choice on when that was supposed to come out.” He explained, wrapping an arm around me. “Now, was that friend you were going to hang out with the girl?”

I smiled a bit, glad to know he really didn’t seem to care. “Ya, we were gonna see a movie.”

“Your welcome to go now, I’m sure being with her is a bit more relaxing then being with me.” He smiled a bit before standing up. My dad was almost never soft like that, and decided to do my best to remember that smile.

“Thank you so much.” I said, a real smile on my face.

“You’ll have to bring her around some time. Don’t think she won’t still get the talk like with any boys you would have brought home. What’s her name anyways?”

“Lily.” I said pulling my phone out to send her a quick message.

“Wait your friend lily? The one that you stay over at her house all the time?”

“I’ve got to go dad, I’ll let you know when I’m home.” I said running out the door. I could here him telling for me but I just chuckled as I drove away. I guess I won’t be having anymore ‘sleep overs’ with Lily.

#fanfic #knives out #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom Drysdale x daughter!reader #Gay daughter #lesbian reader #fluff #angst

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its-monster-mash · 3 years

Text

Marko(Lost Boys) X Frog!Reader Imagines

Gender Neutral Reader

Content Warnings: gun, near death, brief mention of weed

• You spent most of your life on the East Coast, but you had a lot of family out west, including your beloved Grandfather. So when he passed, you dropped everything to attend the funeral

• You didn’t even recognize Edgar and Alan when you showed up at the trailer with your bag; last time you saw them Ed was just learning his first words(“Bullshit”, thanks Uncle Frog), and Al couldn’t even walk yet. Now here they are, a couple of Angsty sullen teenagers

• “You guys used to be so cute, what happened?” “We grew up.” “Oh please, what are you, 12?”

• You decided to stay for a while, help out with the comic book store while your Uncle deals with the legal stuff about your grandfather’s death. Dying sure was a pain in the ass, you guessed

• All things considered, you liked the work. You were a huge comic fan, and the store was slow enough that you had plenty of time to spend working on your own art. You hoped maybe you’d have your own comic some day, if only you could stick to one idea...

• In fact, you were so focused on your art that you forgot to lock up after closing time; so you were more than a little bit started when someone tossed a comic on your desk

• You look up to see a curly-headed blond man, with one of the most beautiful faces you had ever seen, and you can’t help but blush, he smiles at this. “New in town? I think I’d remember seeing you.”

• You notice his friends snicker as they mill around the store. So he IS flirting with you...this does nothing to help your blushing

• You try to collect yourself, ringing up his comic book as you explain your situation; about your grandfather, and how you’re staying with your uncle for a while...how you accidentally kept the shop open way late

• He seems infinitely more interested once he hears that you’re an artist, and absolutely wants to see your work. In fact, he doesn’t even wait for you to respond. “Is that your sketchbook?” Is all the warning you have before he’s snatching it off of your desk and flipping through it

• His jaw all but drops as he appreciates your work. “This is so sick!” Suddenly he’s pushing the sketchbook back to you. “Can you draw me?”

• Normally, you hate that question as much as any other artist, but you’d been dying to draw him since you saw his face, so you absolutely take him up on that

• It doesn’t take you very long to sketch him, and the second you’re finished he snatches it out of your hands, staring at it like he hasn’t seen himself in years

• While he’s busy being in awe, you snatch the sketchbook back from him, much to his surprise, and you hold up a finger to tell him to wait while you scratch your phone number onto the page. You hope he can read your terrible writing

• You tear the page out of the sketchbook, handing it to him. “Here, my phone number...you could call it sometime...if you want to.”

• Your heart flutters when he smiles, and you think you might die when his fingers brush yours when he takes the page. “I want to.”

• His spikyheaded friend nods at him, signaling it’s time for them to leave. “Name’s Marko, I’ll call you!”

• After a couple of late night phone calls, you never leave the shop open late again; Marko never failing to pick you up just after the sun goes down. You tease him about never seeing him in the daylight, like he’s one of those vampires from your cousins’ favorite comic

• “I’ve never seen you in the daylight either.” “Fair enough.”

• Unfortunately, your cousins overhear this little talk just outside of the shop; and one very early morning you notice them sneaking out of the house...you follow of course, you are the adult after all

• Following at a distance, you watch them climb into an old cave...very clearly labeled “Stay Out”. You wonder if maybe they go down there to get stoned with their friends or something...they have friends right? You consider leaving them be...but decide it would be so much funnier to bust them

• Except it isn’t funny at all. By the time you get down there, you hear your cousins’ screams. You frantically follow the sound, and much to your surprise you find Marko, his face distorted monsterously, ready to tear Edgar’s throat out

• You hardly even notice his friends, making a daring slide to pick up the stake Ed had dropped, and grabbing onto Marko. You aren’t strong enough to pry his grip off of your cousin, but the shock of seeing you here causes him to let go anyway. Ed scrambles to Al’s side, terrified under the gaze of the other vampires

• You press the point of the stake to Marko’s chest, and he looks at you with the most devastated expression. “Touch my cousins and he fucking dies.”

• Contempt and fear plays across the faces of the other vampires, guys you thought had become your friends since you started dating Marko; they didn’t know if you could kill him, but they didn’t want to take that chance. David nods for them to part so your cousins can start climbing out of the cave

• Marko...Marko looks at you with his golden eyes full of sorrow and anguish. Seeing him now for the monster he is, you know that the only reason you’re still alive is because he doesn’t want to kill you. You have a stake pressed to his chest, but you both know he could tear your throat out before you ever got the chance to use it

• “(Y/N), please, I-”

• As soon as your cousins reach the safety of daylight, you toss the stake violently to the floor, glaring into Marko’s eyes. You don’t even spare him a final word before you turn and walk away

• Every night, the phone rings; your Uncle doesn’t even bother to tell you anymore, just hanging up the second he hears Marko’s voice. If he knew the truth about what happened that night he’d be terrified, but as it stands he just thinks you had a nasty breakup; and you’re grown...so it’s not his business

• You hate yourself for it, but you miss him...you want to blame it on his Vampiric Charm, but you know in your heart that he never had to manipulate your feelings...they were real

• One night, you just can’t stand lying awake staring at the ceiling anymore. At damn near 3am, you leave quietly so not to awaken your family, and take off for your grandpa’s old shooting range

• Perhaps it was unwise to take yourself to a secluded area so far from any civilization in the dead of night, but you don’t care anymore. You load your grandfather’s old shotgun, the one he taught you to hunt with, and fire at the target

• Eventually, you hear a lone dirtbike pull up the long road behind you; you don’t even turn to look at him. “It’s four AM Marko, what are you doing here?” You fire at the target in the distance

• He walks up behind you, watching you lazily reload. “I could ask you the same thing.”

• “S’my grandpa’s range. I couldn’t sleep so I figured I’d get in some target practice.” *Ting* “You know that’s no good against Vampires, right?” “It’s not for vampires.”

• He can’t help but be frustrated with you; how could you just come out into the open like this? In the middle of the night? Were you stupid or suicidal?

• You don’t need to read minds to know what he’s thinking. He opens his mouth to speak and you cut him off. “If you wanted me dead, I never would have left that cave.”

• “So why didn’t you do it? You know what I am now, so why didn’t you drive that stake through my heart?” “Even if I could have stabbed you faster than you could have killed me, your brothers would have torn me to pieces.”

• “My brothers aren’t here now.”

• You finally turn to look at him, tears welling in your eyes at the sight of him. Your heart tenses at the sight of the sun threatening to rise on the horizon. “If you don’t leave now, I won’t even have to kill you.”

• “No (Y/N).” You can see the tears in his eyes as he shifts into his monstrous form. “No, if you really want me dead, you’re gonna see it.”

• You’re confused at first, until you see the smoke beginning to rise as the first rays of morning light threaten him. “Marko, what are you doing?”

• He lets out an agonized hiss as his skin begins to singe. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

• Tears well in your eyes as you run to him, throwing your jacket over him in an attempt to shield him from the sun. “Knock it off!” You practically drag him into the old gun shack

• He collapses to the floor once you get him inside, too weak to stand. “If I’m gonna die, I want it to be you.” He sounds so raspy and exhausted

• You shake your head, tossing an old blanket over him. “Well too bad. You’re not dying on me today.”

#Spotify #mypost #music tag #marko lost boys #the lost boys #the lost boys imagines #Marko Lost boys x reader #marko x reader #lost boys marko #lost boys Marko x reader

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ktheist · 3 years

Text

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.” (x)

Returning home after 7 years in the big city opened the floodgate of memories. One, in particular, had you smiling to yourself as you sat on the bench at a park where you used to play with a certain, gentle and kind little boy.

Min Yoongi shared his candy when you cried your eyes out because you scrapped your knee while playing tag.

He also let you copy his homework and nagged you about staying up all night and reading one of those books of yours.

A dreamer you were, dreaming about being on the big screens.

And a realist he was, wanting to go to college to make something out of himself.

Maybe get a degree, get a stable job and get married.

Some time at 17, Yoongi proposed to you. A plastic ring he got at the dollar store was all he pulled out and placed in the palm of your hand.

You still have it in that little treasure box of yours where you keep your most prized possessions— memories that will live in forever in that tiny space.

”[Name]?” His husked voice rings in your ears and it takes you awhile to register that it’s real-time and not your memories playing tricks on you.

Some few feet away, a man stands —an older version of the boy whom you played with in this ver park. His eyebrows rise to the skimpy and his usually sleepy eyes look as if they’re wide awake.

Awake with shock.

”Yoongi,” you murmur, just as surprised.

It is only much later, do you notice the little girl tugging on his hand, looking up at him and pointing at the swings, “daddy, daddy! Can I go play with Minhee?”

So you find yourselves sitting side by side with a distance that screams the years you’ve been apart. You gained some people, you also lost some.

Like how you lost your husband to that skanky co-actress that’s just 2 years younger than you. The divorce is all over the news, which is why you’re back here, where nobody knows you and nobody will follow you.

”How’s the acting gig going?” Yoongi asks, staring at the sandbox where his daughter and her friend are trying to build a sand castle.

It’s their third try and that one‘s just crumbled into nothingness.

Just like you did.

A country bumpkin actress who changed her name and style. You never wanted to talk about your hometown in the interviews, never wanted to mention anything about the past you.

Guess living in the present means living with the fact that everywhere you go, you’ll be seeing that skank’s face in the promotional shoots of the movie your husband directed and chose her as the lead and not you.

”It’s doing great, I’m taking a break since it’s summer break and Taeyang‘s never knew his grandparents.” You simply say, your inflated, actress ego not letting you speak a word of your crumbling legacy even if it’s plastered all over the news, even if Min Yoongi has probably seen it and is just asking to make small talk.

Instead, he repeats the foreign name, as though tasting the fact that the woman he once dreamed a future with now has a kid who’s not his.

Well, to be fair, he’s a divorcee with a kid too.

”There, the little one in yellow—“ you tilt your head to the side, as if whispering a great, unknown secret to Yoongi.

The fact that you and Jeongguk had a child is mentioned too little of a time for it to stick to people’s minds. You both may have failed in the art of loving each other till death do you apart, but at the very least, you’re doing a good job with keeping your kid away from media exposure.

He’s just a kid. What can a kid do with that much exposure?

”—he’s an exact dupe of me.” You laugh, thinking about Taeyang’s puppy eyes and po lips that made you say yes to going back to this old, tired town, “Stubborn—”

“Just like you,” Yoongi finishes, a smile curved on his lips. A reminiscent of your younger days in his eyes.

“What about yours? Is she your eldest?” You ask, the black haired girl looks so much like Yoongi but acts the opposite of him.

The Min Yoongi you knew would follow you around like a lost puppy as you went on adventures to the sandy Egypt and sail ths seven seas.

His kid, however, seems like the kind that would brave through the sandstorms and lead the pirates to a cave full of treasures.

“Aera is my only,” he says simply, an enigma of his own. A book still being written and kept hidden from public eye.

”Taeyang’s my little buddy.“ You smile, “though he doesn’t like it when I say we’re best friends. Says his best friend is this Chungha girl from his school.”

Yoongi doesn’t offer anything after that —which is so very Yoongi of him.

Never saying something unless he truly feels passionate about a certain topic. Guess he’s not interested in knowing about his ex-fiancé’s kid. Why would he be? You up and left and never looked back.

But then, the answer as to why he fell silent for the longest moment comes not like a slap to the face, but like a gust of wind that blows past you and leaves you in that diner where you sit in the corner, in your favorite spot while the whole world moves on.

“Tell me, do you regret the day you left? Do you regret that we could have been something more? Because I do.”

And as much as you did not see it coming, you did not also need to ponder on it for longer than a second.

For you are a dreamer and when you close your eyes, you see yourself leaning up against Yoongi’s beaten up truck that his father gifted him for his 17th birthday, waiting for his classes to finish so you can ride home or get some food somewhere in the heart of the town.

And you smile, “that would mean I’d regret having my kid and I can’t do that. He’s all I have left.”

Taeyang comes running over, his little pudgy hands placed on your knee as he looks up at you with a childish gaze, “mommy! Grandpa’s here to pick us up!”

”Hm?“ You scan the part and easily spot the familiar old figure standing across it, smiling sheepishly at the look you‘re shooting him.

He’s holding a plastic bag which he’ll probably use as an excuse to show that he was buying somethings for your grandmother who’s adamant about cooking every dinner because Taeyang’s had plenty of your cooking but it’s his first visit here.

Your father and you had a fight last night. He wants you to stay, get a job as a clerk and you argued back, your ego not allowing your own father to knock you down to a mere clerk position.

He’s either feeling guilty or worried that you left town like you did 7 years ago under the pretense of taking Taeyang to the park.

That anger you felt has also melted into regret. You could’ve listened and explained than lash out like a wounded animal.

”Then, that’s our cue to go home,” you stand up and Taeyang runs over to his grandpa.

Yoongi’s in the middle of placing his hand back on his lap after waving a greeting to your father.

”Yeah, me and Minhee should head back too.” He nods, standing, “it was good seeing you, [Name].”

You mutter an affirmation, turning on your heels to walk towards your awaiting father before you pause, legs not moving until you truly say what you‘ve been holding back.

”There’s this movie I starred in —about an aunt turning back time to find her nephew’s killer, it’s called Timeturner... I wish I had her ability.”

At that, Yoongi blinks, lips slightly parted as if he wants to say something.

”See you around, Yoongi.” You finally say, putting an end to both you and his misery.

But before you can take one step in, he’s calling for you, ”the diner‘s owner passed the business to his son —Sungwoo, maybe... If you’re free—“

”Sure,” you say, “maybe we can bring our kids with us you know... introduce them to the world’s best dumpling.”

”Yeah,” Yoongi nods before he murmurs to himself, “yeah that’d be great.”

Taeyang calls for you, waving his arms impatiently. You mouth a “bye” to Yoongi and mini job over to your father and child how waiting by the lamppost to a street that leads up the hill where your house is.

And this town may be old, but this is where it all began and ended.

This is where it continues after the ending.

#bts fic #bts scenarios #Bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #Yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fic #Yoongi fanfiction #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fluff #bts au #bts angst #excerpt from a fic I’ll never write

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voidaus · 3 years

Text

Slow Dancing In The Dark

Part 4 of the Grocery Shop series

Genre: Fluff?

Warnings: Swearing

Requested? Kind of

Word count: 1347

Here goes nothing.

You walk up to the apartments and look for his address. It's not that hard to find, seeing as the place isn't that big. Although you were kinda hoping it would take you a little longer, so you can calm your nerves, you're glad because you finally get to see him again. Standing in front of the door, you adjust your shirt. It is pretty warm out, which isn't weird, considering where you are, but that spikes your heart rate even more.

A soft knocking rings through Corpse's ears. He probably wouldn't have heard it if he wouldn't be waiting for it. He wipes his palms on his trousers before opening the door. For the first time in a month, he sees you again, and a blush creeps onto his face.

You're wearing a casual white T-shirt and some shorts, all very simple, but it fits you amazingly in his eyes.

You two look at each other for a few seconds, a smile on your face. Corpse then takes the initiative and wraps you in a hug. You hold each other tightly. With your head on his chest, you can hear his heartbeat fast. "Hi." One of you spoke up after a while. You are both too tired to realize who said it.

You finally let go and look him in the eyes. Well, the one eye that wasn't covered by his mask. The hazel-brown color gives off a happy vibe as it twinkles. "It's good to see you again." That deep voice you have grown used to speaks up. You smile, "Yeah. I've missed you." Both of you are so sleep-deprived at the moment and no one seems to bother filtering their words.

Corpse opens the door a little wider, allowing you to walk inside. You give him a quick smile and take off your shoes. "You want something to drink?" he asks. "Sure! Just water please."

Corpse had already walked ahead, to what you assume is the kitchen. The clinking of glass sounds as you wander in his direction. The dark-haired man turns around and gives you your glass.

It's a little awkward at first, considering this is the second time you guys meet, but shortly after you get a little looser and more comfortable with each other. You are now lying on his couch with hot chocolate in your hands. Corpse is sitting in front of you with his guitar in his hands. After you found out he owns one, you had practically begged him to play something.

So here you are now, wrapped in a blanket, a hot drink, and Corpse playing some songs. He had already played stuff like All of me, and A-team, to which you happily sang along. You are in the middle of listening to him play Say you won't let go when the music suddenly stops. Immediately zoning back in you look at him, confused. "Hold on, let me just-" He cuts himself off as he grabs his phone from the table.

"Whatcha doing, bub?" You ask, still a bit sad he's not playing anymore. His style was amazing to listen to, you loved it. He puts his phone back down and just looks you straight in the eyes again, with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Corpseeee?" You ask, stretching out the e. "Yeeeeesss?" He asks pulling the same trick on you. "What did you do?"

"I Uhmm... I ordered fries and chicken nuggets from MacDonalds..." He answers, sounding like a child that did something wrong. "Are you kidding me?" He's about to apologize to you when you beat him to talking "I fucking love you, dude!"

Relief washes over him. He sighs and slumps back into his chair, but not before hitting your arm "I thought you were mad at me! Don't ever look at me that way again!" You start laughing and soon enough Corpse joins in.

"Did I ever tell you, I love your laugh?" You ask him, now serious again. "I'm pretty sure you did. Like a million times."

"well, I do. It's so nice to listen to!" You rest your head on your hand and look at him in amazement. "It's like, you have your voice, and it sounds all deep and cool and intimidating, and then your laugh is so adorable and cute!" Not noticing that you're rambling, you keep talking about him for a while. Corpse just sits there and listens to your voice. He almost falls asleep, seeing as it's almost 5 AM when the doorbell rings. "CHICKEN NUGGETS!!" you suddenly scream, scaring him awake. "Dear God, Y/N WHY?" You laugh it off as he goes to the door.

**Small time skip brought to you by The Gongoozler (You wouldn't get it)**

“Listen, we have to move on. The past is in the past Y/N. What we have now is everything!” Corpse said, trying to keep a serious face.

“Apologise for eating my chicken nuggets you little shit!” You dryly said. This only made him burst into laughter for the hundredth time this night.

“Oh, god, you’ve insulted me! Whatever shall I do? I’ll be mentally and emotionally scarred for years!" He said in a horrible ancient accent, which only became worse due to his laughter. A small smile crept onto your face. That quickly turned into you two both laughing your asses off for at least 10 minutes. "Co- Corpse, I can't bre- breath" You attempted to tell him in between wheezing.

After a while, your laughter died down again. Now you were lying on the couch, your head in his lap. He's tracing figures on your arm. It's already 7 in the morning and both of you had quite the night. It tired you out extremely making you fall asleep a few times before quickly waking up again.

"Y/N?" Corpse spoke up in a gentle manner. "Yeah, bubs?" You shift your head so that you're looking up to him. "Could I- No wait, nevermind, it's dumb."

You sit up and hug his torso. "Hey! Don't say that. I bet it's not, and even if it is, I won't laugh bubba." You pout. "Do you promise not to laugh?" he was greeted with a finger in his face. "Pinky promise!" He stuck out his pinky and wraps it around yours. 'It's amazing how much bigger his hand is!' You think to yourself.

Corpse shifts a bit and you sit back on the couch again. He looks like he's fighting with himself before his eye meets yours. You give him a reassuring smile and Corpse nods. He then reaches for his face. You're confused until you realize he's reaching for his mask. And you were right. Corpse slowly pulls it off and immediately looks down at his lap. You stare at him in awe before gently grabbing his chin and bringing it up with your hand. You could now see both of his eyes. The hazel color springing out by his simple eyeliner. His black hair looks even curlier now. "Corpse..."

His head drops again. "No, no no! That's not what I meant!" you quickly add. Suddenly he feels two warm hands on the sides of his face. His eyes meet yours again and then drop to your warm smile. "Corpse, you are so gorgeous! You are so handsome and incredibly beautiful, and don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise!"

A bright smile appears on his face. He wraps you in a hug again, tacking you on the couch. "I love you, Y/N." He whispers in your ear. "I love you too, Corpse."

He gets up after a while and holds out his hand. "Would you care to dance?" you take his hand and stand up too. "Gladly. "

He clicks something on his phone and your favorite song starts playing. You smile and grab his shoulder. You waltz away while Joji plays in the background.

The sun is almost fully up, and birds are chirping outside. And here you are, dancing in his arms. Safe and secure. This is all you could ever ask for.\

The End

Hey guys! I'm so sorry it took me so long! (And that it's such a bad chapter omg) It's just been shit here, my grandpa is sick, my country went into a lockdown again and my mental health is just dead.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter though! If you found any mistakes, please point them out. Also, I love to read your comments/opinions on the story, so keep commenting! Take care, lovelies :)

For a sequel, send me an ask! I will write one if I have a few of them!

If you liked this, the taglist is open and so are my requests

@persephone-sideblog @reinyrei @cherry-piee @alienvarmint @divine-artemis @milanienne @struggling-with-time @insanedeathwish @134340cm @airwaveee @weirdopoptart @impossiblepersonazipperlawyer @khearts14

#corpse #corpse x reader #corpse husband #corpse fic #GroceryShopSeries #corpse imagines #softboiicorpse #corpse husband imagine #y/n #y/n x corpse #corpse x y/n #fluff #corpse fluff #yourpov #pov #fanfiction #one-shot #corpse oneshot

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