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majestyeverlasting · 10 months

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A Little Less Restless

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (friends to lovers)

Summary: As Bucky finds himself within the still familiarity of Brooklyn, he comes to realize that he deserves nice things. And, most of all, that he deserves you.

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I haven't posted any new writing in a bit, and it feels good to be resolving that (yay me). Please enjoy this piece I wrote today. Lot's of fluff and very obvious feelings. It's been a while since I wrote something for him. <3

Three knocks sound on Bucky’s front door as his reflection stares back at him in the bathroom. He's leaning close to the mirror in careful criticism. Enough to see the green flecks in his irises. The freckles on his cheeks from being in the sun. The pricks of hair making up his scruff. Then he eases back and squares his shoulders. They fall after he releases a breath.

He prays he doesn’t look as restless as he feels.

The smile you give him when he answers the door carries a warmth he isn’t sure he deserves. But he takes it because that’s all he can do. Enjoy it like a man who’s been cold his whole life. By some miracle, he feels himself smiling back in that small, weighted way of his. It was a trade off of sorts, and now you’re even. No outstanding debts.

He motions you inside with a soft please, and you study him once you’re in the foyer. In the few seconds that you’re silently observing, Bucky wishes he knew exactly why. As tender as your gaze is, heat was already rising to his cheeks. But like everything else when it comes to you, he takes it. Looks right back at you shyly, pushes his hands into his pockets, and waits.

“Your hair’s shorter,” you finally say, smile growing wider. “Did you cut it?”

“Cut it,” he repeats like a question, hands moving to run through it. The previous night creeps back to the forefront of his mind.

When he’d gone for a walk to get some air and inadvertently found himself being drawn in by the red, white, and blue barber’s pole spiraling on the next block. It’d been ages since he’d gone to a professional, but walking inside to the faint scent of tobacco and aftershave made him feel as though he’d never stopped.

“Mhm,” you hum, certain.

The stumped look on his face vanishes like it was never supposed to be there. “I went and got it trimmed at a place called Ricky’s last night.”

“And you forgot that quickly?” Next thing he knows, you’re wrapping him in an embrace, peeking up at him after a few seconds, “I’m teasing.”

He squeezes you back tighter.

It’s you who eventually pulls away, and he finds himself trailing you as you venture deeper into his apartment, eyes roving thoughtfully. A coffee table now complements the couch in the living room. The walls are no longer bare. At long last, the space was beginning to look more like a home.

For the longest time, Bucky had only seen it as a place to rest his head after countless assignments that took him miles away. It didn’t need to be anything special, or so he thought. One of the first things you told him upon coming into his life was that he needed a constant. A place to come back to that he could make his own. That was his. He’d spent so much of his life serving other people and belonging to other people that he was finally learning what it meant to be his own.

It was exhausting not being halfway across the world with a task to busy his mind. Brooklyn was still in comparison. A place where he could recognize street names, faces, point out buildings that used to be something else when he was a kid. And now there was you, who made being stateside worthwhile in a way he didn’t think was possible. He realized then, how much he’d deprived himself of meaningful connections outside of work.

“It looks great in here, Buck. What’d I tell you?” Your earnesty is genuine. Makes him, as old and borderline cynical as he is, feel special. “You’re gonna have to start inviting me over more.” You shoot him a wink, and he freezes because of the weight of the implication. If you notice, you don’t say anything.

A few months ago you’d been strangers crossing paths. Then acquaintances. Now friends who cared about each other a whole awful lot. Only, it was more obvious on your end. He kept most of his sentiments guarded, not yet ready for them to bleed out like an open wound. It didn’t help that you were always wielding a knife, coming closer and closer to cut through the wall he built around himself.

“You can come over whenever you want,” he says. “I’m always here.��

“When you’re not on assignment,” you add. “And I know. I just don’t want to scare you away.”

Bucky frowns at the suggestion, but his lips eventually turn up. “Good thing you’re not a scary person,” he says, counting on earning a laugh. Something.

And you do, right before shaking your head. “I’m serious.”

“You couldn’t scare me away,” he assures.

You nod slowly. “So how’ve you been?” There’s something else lingering on the tip of your tongue, so he waits it out. It ends up punching him right in the gut. “You look…I don’t know.”

It hadn’t been all too long since he’d come back from Morocco. Only a week. And it would be a while before he was sent out anywhere else. His mind was in the constant process of drifting to the type of thoughts all men sifted through when they have nothing but time. Those regarding purpose, belonging, and meaning. Not to a deep, crippling degree, but enough to make him want to spring into some sort of action. Find something to indulge in that wasn’t saving the world.

Bucky swallows and shifts his weight. “Restless,” he offers. “Didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I’ll always notice.” Silence stretches between the two of you and a siren wails in the distance. “Maybe we can go out tonight, just you and me. Is that something you’d wanna do?” The question sounds shy.

What you didn’t know quite yet is that he’d probably do just about anything if it was with you.

***

At the end of the night, it’s Bucky who pulls out his card and pays for dinner. Not even giving you the chance to think about digging into your purse. As an old tune continues playing overhead, your grateful eyes sparkle at him from across the table.

Neither of you had dined here before. It’s one of the places Bucky said used to go by a different name and was run by a different family, Italians. You liked listening to him talk about what once was because it made you realize just how much he knew. Just how thoughtful and reverent he was when it came to the good memories he had.

Being listened to so intently was new for him. But he enjoyed it. Especially when you’d ask questions or bring up a point he made further back in the conversation. By the time the waiter comes back around with his card and his copy of the receipt, the two of you are basking in the memory of the evening and thinking about what the rest of the night may hold.

“This was really nice,” he says, folding his napkin and setting it aside on the table. Then his expression becomes consumed by a certain solemness. “I don’t know how well it comes across, but I need you to know that I appreciate you. A lot.”

Your heart nearly bursts. “I know, Bucky,” you promise. He still looks unconvinced, so you extend your hand face up on the table for him to take. “I know.”

The cab ride back to his place is quiet. You hold onto his hand the whole way, relishing the feeling of his thumb tracing back and forth over your skin. It’s a gesture that says I’m here with, I’ll be here as long as you’ll have me. Brooklyn passes by in rushes of darkness peppered with light. Pedestrians walk alongside the streets, some holding hands just like the two of you. It isn’t long before the driver pulls up alongside the curb of the complex.

It isn’t until you’re in the elevator that you’re sure that you want to stay.

The two of you get off at the fifth floor.

“Is it okay if I spend the night? If not, I completely understand. I know it’s such short notice,” you ramble as he’s turning his key into the door. He hopes you don’t notice the way he falters. But part of him knows you do. You don’t miss anything. Luckily for him, you’re just as fazed by your own question, holding your breath.

It’s not until you’re inside that he graces you with an answer, “‘Course you can.”

Your shoulders drop in relief. What you’re not expecting is the laugh he tries to bite back. Maybe it was mean of him, but he liked knowing he could make you sweat. Sometimes it seemed like it was only ever you who made him openly anxious.

“You’re terrible,” you accuse, failing at restraining a smile. “Absolutely horrible.” You’d forgotten to throw away an empty water bottle before you left, and it’s the closest thing you’re able to throw his way in retaliation. He catches it and tosses it in the trash himself.

Mischief written all along his smile when he starts towards you.

Partly scared and partly excited, you think to flee at the last second. After a few measly steps, you’re being pulled back into the firmness of his chest. He’s sure enough laughing now, the vibration rushing straight into your back right along with the warmth of his body. So are you. He only has one arm secured around your waist and, despite the fact that he’s not even trying, it's enough to hold you.

“Wait, wait, wait—hold on a second!” your words come out giggly both because you’re anticipating some sort of attack, and because he’s never held you quite like this before. Unlike a normal hug, this feels like he has you rather than you having each other. It’s vulnerable. Dizzying.

“You win, you win!”

“What?” he laughs in surprise. His mouth is so close to your ear that you shiver. “Thought you had more fight in you than that,” there’s a playful warmth to his words.

You shake your head in denial and relax back into him. You didn’t stand a chance of winning unless he let you, and you were more than willing to tap out early. Because even so, you were still in his arms at his mercy, and somehow that felt like the safest place to be. By the time you realize both of your laughter has faded to a thoughtful silence, he’s pressing a featherlight kiss to the shell of your ear.

When he lowers his arm from around your waist, you turn around to face him.

There’s a ghost of a smile on his face. He suddenly looks boyish, younger. Having crawled out of whatever shell of crushing expectation and responsibility he usually resided within.

When he cups your face and presses his lips to yours, his shoulders relax and his breaths slow. And for once, he indulges. In you. In the prospect of having someone to lean on and being leaned on in return. It’s a reminder that he’s allowed to experience nice things. To have a life to look forward to outside of lending himself to cause after cause.

You’re soft, and warm, and everything good a person could be. He pulls away slowly after a while, blinking down at you with heavy eyelids. You’re looking right back at him like he’s the world itself.

“Maybe you’re not so terrible,” you whisper, smiling.

Of everything he was feeling now, restless wasn’t one of them.

Thank you so much for reading! I promise I see every like, comment, and reblog and appreciate them all very much.

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bishopsbeloved · 3 months

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the art of falling in love (part one)

natasha romanoff x fem reader (high school au)

You’ve been in love with your best friend’s sister ever since you first met her (who wouldn’t be?), and you were content to take these feelings to the grave. But when she begins to reciprocate, things get complicated, and you find yourself lying to almost everyone you know — including yourself.

best friend!yelena belova, aroace!yelena belova, internalised homophobia, found family trope, coming of age, angst, fluff (eventual happy ending)

read this fic on ao3!

You’ll never forget the fateful day that you laid eyes upon Natasha Romanoff for the first time. Even at the ripe age of seven, you knew you wanted her in your life forever.

Melina Vostokoff and Alexi Shostakov are your neighbours — they live right across the street, and they have done for as long as you can remember. On your fifth birthday, they came home from a trip to Russia with a daughter, Yelena. From the moment you laid eyes on one another, the two of you knew you were best friends. Neither sets of parents had any qualms on that (“oho, here comes trouble,” Alexi would say teasingly whenever the two of you came tearing into the room), and so even before Natasha’s arrival you spent more of your waking hours in their household than in your own.

One time, two years since Yelena entered your life and only a few weeks before Natasha’s arrival, you were playing in the sandy dirt down the back of Yelena’s house, and huffing in annoyance as it proved too fine to hold up as a sandcastle. You looked over at your best friend who was currently experiencing much more success in her own task, her tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as she carefully stacked twigs to build a bug hotel, and without even thinking you asked, “why did you pick me? To be your friend?”

Yelena blinked, surprised, but placed a leaf on top of her miniature structure to serve as a roof before responding. “What do you mean?”

“Weeeeell,” you narrowed your eyes in thought, trying to figure out what it was that you meant, “we’ve just always been friends. And I like it, but I was like, why?”

She was quiet for a good few moments, and if you didn’t know the girl any better then you would have missed the slight cleft between her brows that means she’s formulating her next words, and you would’ve thought she was ignoring you. But you did know better, because she was your best friend, and that thought filled your tiny frame with joy.

“Sometimes when you meet people, it’s special,” she said eventually. “Like a puzzle, you know when they fit together? Like — like that,” she mimed two things slotting together with her fingers, and you nodded. “It happened for us, I think. It happened when my mom and dad met, they tell me all the time that dad loved mom from the moment he met her,” she wrinkled her nose, and you giggled. “And it happened for me and my sister in Russia.”

With that last statement, she’d caught your interest. Often in passing she’d mention her sister from the orphanage in Russia, where she’d been before Melina and Alexi had sorted out her visa to bring her back to their home in Ohio. You never quite knew how to respond to it, and she never elaborated beyond throwaway comments such as these, so you were fairly certain that this sister wasn’t even real until the day she was brought home.

And what a day that was; one that turned your life upside down forever. As far as you knew, when you first woke up, it was a day like any other. Another sunny morning of summer vacation. You woke up as bright and early as children annoyingly do and rushed to get ready to spend another day at Yelena’s house, no doubt irritating the shit out of her parents (who, to their credit, were very tolerant of you and Yelena’s seven-year-old antics). But once you’d knocked and stood fidgeting eagerly on their front porch, it wasn’t Yelena, or her parents, who opened the door.

No, it was an unfamiliar girl you were faced with — only one year older as you were soon to learn, but already an entire head taller than you. She looked down at you, face stony, and you stared back in confusion. There was no way this was the wrong house, you’d been coming here every day for the last two years, and you saw it every time you looked out of your bedroom window. So what was going on?

You found yourself remembering a Slavic children’s story Alexi had told you and Yelena last winter, late at night when you were curled up by the fire together drinking hot chocolate, about an old lady who had a house with chicken legs. The Baba Yaga, Alexi had called her. During the night her house would stand up and run away, and be gone from its previous spot the next morning; you found yourself wondering if this had happened to Yelena’s house too. Could any house have legs, or just the Baba Yaga’s house? You’d have to ask Alexi — once you tracked down his runaway house, of course.

“Y/N,” a voice squealed from behind the unfamiliar girl, and Yelena’s face poked out from behind her. “Y/N this is my sister! From Russia, her name is Natasha.”

“You are Yelena’s best friend?” Natasha asked softly, a gentle Russian lilt to her words. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And just like Yelena had described to you, you looked up at Natasha and something just clicked. Something aligned; a puzzle piece you hadn’t even known you were missing slotted into place.

You knew even then that you wanted to be around her forever.

It’s been ten years now, since that day, and you’ve grown up alongside the two of them. You’re an only child with distant parents, and Alexi and Melina have taken you under your wing — so much in fact that Yelena’s room is referred to affectionately as the twins’ room, and you have your own bed in there. More of your stuff is at their house rather than your own these days.

But Natasha has always been just out of reach. Since the day you first met her there’s been this pit in your stomach whenever she’s been around, strange and foreign and somewhat scary to you, that has you reduced to a silent mess with trembling fingers whenever she’s around. It’s a feeling you’ve not always understood, but in more recent years you’ve come to accept you’re in love with her; something you will take to the grave.

You don’t stand a chance with her, of course. You’re her little sister’s best friend, a whole year younger than her, and where she’s popular in school you tend to stick to the shadows. You’re not really picked on, per se — no one dares to when Yelena Belova, who’s terrifying in her own right as well as the little sister of Natasha Romanoff, is constantly glued to your side — but you just don’t have the same social standing that Natasha does. Even if by some miracle you did, she’s your best friend’s sister. You know she’ll never see you that way.

So you’ve decided to yourself you’re going to keep these feelings under lock and key, and pray they’ll go away.

And it’s been going pretty good!… well, that is, until tonight.

Alexi and Melina have flown back to Russia for the New Year, leaving the household in the hands of you, Yelena and Natasha. You and Yelena were perfectly content with spending your days of freedom ordering takeout, bingeing awful reality TV shows and annoying the cat for hours on end, but Natasha was having none of that. The Starks can’t hold their New Year thrasher at their house like normal this year (something about a sick aunt on bedrest? You weren’t really listening, to be honest), so with her parents out of town, Natasha’s offered up her house.

“I don’t want a bunch of gross sweaty drunk people in our house,” Yelena had protested when it was proposed to her, nose wrinkling. “это отвратительно. No.”

“Aw come on, please,” Natasha groaned. “It’s just one night.”

“But it’s not just one night, because we will be cleaning up for days after,” retorted Yelena. “Last time there was vomit everywhere. That was a zero out of ten experience.”

Natasha snorted. “What are you, TripAdvisor?” Dodging Yelena’s half-hearted smack, she’d added, “See, why can’t you be like Y/N? They don’t mind. Right, Y/N?”

Sure, she’d probably played you, but with those eyes who could say no to her?

Well, evidently not you. And because of it, you and Yelena are stuck spending New Year’s Eve locked in her (your) bedroom, her TV on at max volume to even be vaguely heard over the music that shakes the bed with every beat.

“О мой Бог, it’s not even midnight,” Yelena whines, checking her clock for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. “We are going to be dealing with this for hours. Natalia owes us one.”

“She’ll feel guilty tomorrow and take us to a drive-thru,” you tell her, and she sticks her tongue out at you instead of admitting that you’re right.

She opens her mouth to say something else (something witty and uncalled for, you’re sure), but she’s cut off by an abysmally loud crash and scream from downstairs, followed by even louder cheering. The look that crosses her face next just makes you very glad you’re not on the receiving end of her anger tonight.

“Liho,” you remember suddenly, “where is he? Did we pick him up before the party started?”

She pauses. “Oh, shit.”

“He’s still down there?” you panic. “Fuck, Lena, you know how much he hates noise. I’m gonna go get him.”

“No, let me,” Yelena protests, but you wave her off.

“No, because you’ll come back with a kill list twice as long as it is now,” you retort and she scrunches up her face at you, because as always with her you’ve hit the nail on the head. You blow her a kiss before closing the door behind you.

Immediately, you’re hit by the overwhelming stench of sweat and alcohol. Okay, ew. You’d practically begged Natasha to dilute the jet fuel that the Russians call vodka before distributing it, but evidently she’s not taken your pleas into account tonight. (You’re all going to pay for it tomorrow morning come clean-up time.)

At least the universe isn’t totally against you right now, though — the household’s cat, Liho, has one place he will flee to without fail whenever he’s scared; the tiny gap between the washing machine and the wall, in the laundry room. With any luck, you can sneak in and out of there through Melina’s office without encountering too many partygoers.

Getting down the stairs proves a task in itself; they are absolutely soaking for some reason, something must have been spilled on them, so thank god they’re hardwood and not carpeted. It’s like a slip and slide on your way down, and you cling onto the banister for dear life, your task only made more difficult by the tens of other people who have no regard whatsoever for your Mission Impossible-level task currently at hand.

Miraculously, you somehow make it to the bottom of the stairs unscathed, and immediately wince as you straighten back up. The noise down here is even louder, the smell even stronger, and you want nothing more than to flee back upstairs and cower under the bedsheets with Yelena until everyone finally fucks off home. But you remind yourself that if this is the way you feel, tiny flighty Liho probably feels even worse, and as his self-appointed cat mother (which you have been ever since you and Yelena rescued him from the roadside and brought him home), it’s your duty to rescue him.

So you battle your way on through to the laundry room, which thank the lord is empty. You close the heavy wooden door behind you with relief, and lean back against it for a moment, panting to recollect yourself. Jesus fuck, do you hate parties. You’re not even trying to be difficult, it’s just something you’ll never understand — they’re so overstimulating, so overwhelming. You always leave them with such a depleted social battery that you won’t be seen again for the next week. How someone can enjoy these things, you’ll never fathom.

You’re distracted from your inner monologue by the sound of gentle scrabbling, coming from behind the washing machine. An involuntary smile spreads over your face as you instantly clock what that noise is, and you approach slowly, dropping to a crouch.

“Hey buddy,” you say softly to the black fur vaguely visible among the shadows. Its gentle movements freeze, and the scrabbling noise stops. “This sucks, doesn’t it? All alone down here.”

He blinks at you.

”Yeah, it does, huh?” you continue. “What do you say we get outta here? You can come upstairs with me and Lena. How’d you feel about that, bud, huh? It’ll be much nicer, I promise. It’s so lonely down here, isn’t it?”

Convinced, the kitten wriggles out of his hiding spot and trots into your waiting arms. You scoop him up, planting kisses on his head and giggling.

“Good boy. Sweet boy. We got snacks in our room. You just love Twizzlers, don’t you?”

“He does love Twizzlers,” says a raspy voice from behind you, scaring the absolute shit out of both you and Liho. He yelps in alarm, and alarm at your alarm, digging his claws into your shoulder in a way that makes you hiss out loud. You spin around to see none other than Natasha behind you (she must have been in here before you closed the door, you vaguely piece together in your state of gay panic), red beer pong cup in hand, looking fucking beautiful.

You’ve avoided her as much as you can today while she’s gotten ready for tonight, reasoning with yourself that you’re only torturing yourself if you keep admiring her from afar, but holy fuck you can’t believe you were depriving yourself of this. A pale pink, almost nude dress, with silver blossoms settled comfortably on her hips in the way that your hands itch to be, and eyeliner that could fucking cut someone. But she’s smiling at you so softly that even the knife-sharp eyeliner smiles with her, and even though she just gave you the fright of your life you’re almost shaking with the restraint it takes to not go absolutely feral. She looks so good.

Oh lord, you are hopeless.

“You and him are just as bad as each other,” she comments, still smiling, so you know she doesn’t really mean it. Desperately scrabbling to cover for your internal screaming, you fake a pout, dropping a kiss on Liho’s head (he rubs his forehead gratefully against your cheek in return).

“That’s so mean,” you grumble.

“You look really pretty tonight,” she tells you, and your heart actually stops at the compliment. It feels like a trick for a moment, that she’d say something like that, but she’s still smiling a smile that makes your insides go all woozy.

“I really don’t think,” you begin, looking down at your outfit, but then pause. What with the top secret CIA-level mission that retrieving Liho has become, you’ve almost forgotten that before all of this you and Yelena had been playing dress up — strictly within the confines of your bedroom, of course, but you’re wearing one of Mama Melina’s old college dresses and it doesn’t look half bad on you, even though it now probably has Liho hairs all over it. You vaguely recall Yelena begging you to let her do your makeup (“pleeeease, Y/N, I swear I’ll be serious this time no more penises I promise”) too, so maybe it’s not such a reach that Nat actually thinks you look pretty tonight. “Oh. Thank you. S- so do you, I —” You forcibly stop yourself there, for fear of real embarrassment.

Her lips twitch in amusement at your antics. “Thanks.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, a moment of silence, and you figure you’d best take your leave before you inevitably embarrass yourself in front of the love of your life. You step toward the door which she’s still stood in front of, mumbling something unintelligible, but Natasha remains firm and simply raises an eyebrow at you as she sips from her solo cup. Literally everything she does is so insanely attractive that you have to bury your face in Liho’s fur for a moment and inhale in order to ground yourself properly. How can one person be so lovely? It’s just not fair.

“I should go back upstairs, Liho doesn’t like the noise,” you tell Natasha.

“You know, it’s nearly midnight,” is all she replies. “They’re about to start the countdown.”

You nod, tight-lipped. Even when it’s muffled through the thick wood of the laundry room the noise is starting to get to you now, and Liho won’t sit still in your arms either, and you want to get back upstairs to the warm safety of your bed and Yelena’s company and the shit Kardashians show you were watching, away from the girl who it’s as torturous as it is wonderful to be around.

“It’s a romantic thing for a lot of people,” she continues, and you have to look away at that. It’s almost as though she, or the universe is dangling the fact that she’ll never be interested in you in front of your face tantalisingly — like a carrot on a stick. “To kiss the one you love when the clock hits midnight, and the New Year rolls in. You got anyone to kiss this year?”

Okay, wow. Ouch.

“Liho,” you reply with as much humour as you can muster. “He is my one true love. Aren’t you, bud,” you add a few octaves higher, and he perks up, recognising that voice that’s for him. When you look back up at Natasha she’s studying you with amusement in her eyes, as though she knows something you don’t. You can hear the chanting beginning outside of the laundry room now, preparing to ring in the New Year; twenty… nineteen…

Still, though, Natasha makes no move to let you leave.

“Do you have anyone to kiss at midnight?” you ask her pointedly. “Cause you should probably get back to them.”

She downs the rest of the contents of her solo cup in one before slamming it down on the counter beside her. “Don’t need to,” comes her gruff reply, “they’re right here.”

Your jaw actually fucking drops at that statement, and your brain shortcircuits. What? Even though your heart skips a hopeful beat, you shake your head quickly to clear it of the idea that she could reciprocate these crushing feelings you harbour for her. Instead, you hold Liho out to her, hands under his armpits so that his hind legs dangle below him and he stretches to look comically long — as though you’re giving him to her like a present (which he sends you a very unimpressed for). “O— oh,” you stutter, “well if he’s your midnight kiss, is that why you were in here? I don’t want to —” twelve, eleven…

She actually laughs out loud at that, and bats Liho away. “Not him, дурачок. You.”

Her hands are cupping at the side of your face, and despite the absolute bizarre circumstances you find yourself leaning into her touch, desperate to memorise the feel of her warm calloused fingertips against your skin — seven, six; she looks down at you, the blue-green outlining her wide dark pupils framing a silent question. You’re in absolute slack-jawed disbelief, this has got to be a prank, it’s got to be — four, three — but she holds your gaze with a kind of certainty that surely can’t be summoned to fool someone. You nod a trembling, single nod, and her lips press against yours just as the clock strikes midnight.

Her lips are so soft, so gentle against yours. Your eyelids flutter shut; you can’t help it. She feels like heaven. She’s tentative at first, but when she can feel you reciprocating, her hands begin to explore a little; one moving to tangle itself in your hair, the other to your back and pulling you in closer to her. One of your arms is busy still cradling Liho close to your chest, but the other is free to trace along Natasha’s skin wonderingly as she continues her ministrations. Her leg slides between yours, forcing you backwards against the wall, where her kisses trail down your jaw for a moment before creeping back up toward your lips and returning to kissing them instead. When she nips gently at your bottom lip, you let out a noise you’ve never heard yourself make before, a kind of high-pitched whine in the back of your throat that makes Natasha laugh quietly as she pulls away for air. Liho, who was nestled comfortably between the two of you throughout the exchange, is purring merrily (“talk, Valentina!” as your friend Darcy would say).

She looks down at you for a moment, eyes wide and dilated, hair a little less perfect than before, panting slightly. She’s always had a few inches on you, ever since you were kids, and that’s something she often teases you for but right now the way she’s towering over you is so fucking hot. None of this can be real, you think to yourself hazily as she leans back in to plant one more kiss, much more chaste this time, against your lips.

“Happy New Year,” she says lowly to you; her voice is a little more broken and raspy than it was pre-makeout and it actually sends a shiver down your spine. And then she’s waltzing out of the room, leaving you absolutely shaking against the wall she was just pressing you against; your legs give up on you as you slide down against it to the ground, trying to catch your breath and understand what just happened.

Because what?

You wake up the next morning to a house that’s thankfully empty, aside from its usual residents. You’re absolutely terrified that last night was some kind of dream, or it was a drunk mistake. You’ve never felt so vulnerable in your life. You’re right in the palm of Natasha’s hand and she has all the power in the world to absolutely break you right now. She could shatter you into a thousand irreparable pieces and leave you in the dirt if she so wanted to, and that thought is one that had you tossing and turning last night.

Yelena can’t for the life of her fathom why you’re so jittery this morning. You’ve told her fuck all, of course. What were you meant to say? Hey, sorry, last night your sister who I’m kind of a little bit in love with cornered me and we made out? No fucking way. When you came back to the bedroom last night all shaken up and wordless, she just assumed that the party atmosphere had been that overwhelming. You were very grateful for her gentleness with you as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on, and what you were meant to do now. You tried to Google it, but it would appear that not many other people can relate to the situation that you’ve found yourself in (the best thing you could find were some decade-old Quora threads about being in love with your straight best friend, and the idea of Yelena being straight was so funny to you that you had to close the tab before your laughing woke her up), and you ended up being so worried about Yelena somehow seeing your search history that you cleared the whole thing, which definitely is not suspicious.

“Hey,” Yelena slaps the back of your head playfully as she passes you, knocking you out of your trance, “it is a new day. Party is over, the house is ours, leave the miserableness behind in yesterday, да?”

You nod as you follow her down the stairs.

Natasha, to your surprise, is already awake, and seemingly not even hungover as she bustles around the kitchen, preparing something.

Yelena seems to read your thoughts, as she often does, and nods in agreement. “What, you are not curled up in bed with four million painkillers?” she asks incredulously as she slides onto a stool at the kitchen island.

Natasha shakes her head good-naturedly at her sister’s greeting, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling like an idiot as she continues to cook. “No. I feel good this morning, actually. Really good.” The smile bleeds through her words and takes over her face again.

You and Yelena exchange a look. What is… happening?

“You are being weird,” Yelena tells her, and smacks her over the back of the head with a rolled-up newspaper as her older sister walks past her to grab the butter. “What have I missed, did you get laid last night or something?”

Your blood runs cold at that, and you have to look away from Yelena so she doesn’t see the way your face drops. Is that true? Did she kiss you and then sleep with someone else? No, she wouldn’t do that to you, surely.

Your thoughts (hopes) are confirmed when she snorts to herself and shakes her head, her back still to the both of you as she pours batter into a pan. “No. No, I just — I had a really good time last night. That’s all. Thanks for letting me have the party.”

You watch as Yelena’s eyebrows furrow, her eyes tracking every one of Natasha’s movements intently, and she tries to figure out what’s going on. You’re similarly perplexed. Natasha is the silent, stony older sibling, the watcher, the one who hears everything and knows everything but doesn’t often speak of her own accord. Last night in the laundry room was the longest exchange you’ve had with her in weeks (and that was before she kissed you). As a kid you would mistake this for shyness, but it eventually became clear that Natasha Romanoff is not shy. She’s very far from it, in fact. She’s just observant, and doesn’t feel the need to speak unless she has something to say. You have zero clue what she’s feeling or thinking half the time — her poker face is so good it’s unsettling. So this is a weird occurrence. You don’t think you’ve seen her as happy as this since… well, since the day she was brought home.

“Well, it is not as though we had much choice in the matter,” Yelena retorts humorously. “Don’t forget we are not cleaning up. That’s on you, сестра.”

“I know, I know,” Natasha grumbles playfully, placing a plate in front of each of you before sliding a pancake onto each of them, right out of the pan. “I owe you one.”

Yelena looks from the pancake to her sister, and back again. “What is this?”

“A chocolate chip pancake.”

“They’re heart-shaped,” you observe quietly.

“Well done for having eyes. If you don’t want them —”

“Nope, it’s good, thank you,” says Yelena thickly, and it’s already gone. You let out a noise of amusement as you eat in a more dignified manner, humming your approval. You don’t think Nat’s ever made you breakfast. It’s nice, though.

Yelena swallows, and leaps to her feet. “I think it’s a Kardashians marathon on TV today,” she informs you, pointedly ignoring the noise Natasha makes whenever that show is mentioned, and she dashes off into the living room. You are alone with Natasha, for the first time since last night.

The nerves from earlier are back, swelling up inside of you uncomfortably, and you do your best to casually avert your gaze from her as you continue to eat. You have no idea whether to bring up last night or to pretend it never happened. Just thinking of the latter makes your heart ache, but it’s becoming a more real possibility by the minute.

Seemingly indifferent to your internal struggling, Natasha slides a pancake onto her own plate and ruffles your hair as she passes you on her way to the fridge. You flinch at the touch, and she giggles.

“You okay?” she asks you teasingly as she pulls a container of raspberries out of the fridge.

You swallow, and nod, trying your best to not embarrass yourself this morning. “Y — yeah. Uh, can I have some?” You gesture at the tub of raspberries.

She pretends to think for a moment, taking slow steps back towards you, until she’s right in front of you — towering over you even more so than she usually does, since you’re still sat down. You look up at her, filled with something not dissimilar to awe. Even in the mornings, when she’s fresh out of bed and still half-asleep, she’s the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen. She places her spare hand on your thigh, with the other still holding the berries, and you think to yourself with absolute certainty that you could die happily in this moment.

“Mmm,” she says thoughtfully. “Beg me.”

Not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, your jaw drops. You look up at her, pleadingly, not even sure what you’re pleading for. Pleading her to go easy on you? Pleading her to stop? To keep going? But she’s unrelenting.

“Please,” you say eventually, quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please can I have some.”

Almost too quickly for you to process, her lips are pressing against yours. You gasp against her, every single emotion from last night swelling back up, with the added concern that Yelena is in the next room over. But she pulls away after a moment, winking at you as she retreats to her own seat, and as you raise a hand to your lips you realise that in kissing you, she’s left a berry between your lips. She laughs gently when she sees you openly staring at her, and the sound sets your whole body alight, the feeling only amplified by the fact that you’re the cause of her laughter.

Well, you wanted an answer and there’s not many ways to interpret that one.

And so begins your scandalous affair with your best friend’s sister.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #black widow #high school au #marvel high school au

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fcthots · 4 months

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thinking about fake dating jason and falling in love.

it happens slowly and quietly, so slow you don’t even notice it.

and then you turn around and you’re head over heels for him, no idea how it happened.

-🍓

Anon, if i ever gain the ability to write full fics, this is the first thing i'm writing.

might turn this into an au and let y'all request scenes (tattooartist!jason style)

It started off simple. He needed a date to the gala. the press was brutal and he was a Wayne. He didn't want to put anyone in that sort of spotlight. He had a dark past and didn't want anyone to get dragged into it. You were bored, needed a date to a wedding, and you cared about your friend. Also, it helped that he was willing to pay you because he felt bad about the whole press thing. It was nothing more than an arrangement between friends, a way for you to help him out. He's always been there for you, no matter what. You didn't think twice about returning the favor.

He was sweet in public. Held your hand, kissed your cheek, always asked if you were up for a kiss when he thought it was necessary. His hand was always warm and comforting on your waist. It grounded. you, kept you in the moment with him. You loved hanging out with him. The arrangement had let allowed you to hand out with him all the time, anywhere and everywhere. There were some comments made about you in the press, but the negative ones didn't bother you (how could they think you were the bad influence, secret identity or not, he was the one with murders under his belt!) and there were some nice things. You ha your past delved into, which wasn't exactly fun, but Jason had warned you it would happen and oracle made sure everything traceable wasn't bad. Overall, it was fun. You got to hang out with your best friend 24/7 and you got some new instagram followers and fun edits made of you along the way.

When it did inevitably get a little rough, Jason was there for you, like always. He took care of all the truly nasty things the press had to say about you. He always respected your boundaries, and he took you on vacation when it all got too much, even if he had to leave early for a Gotham emergency.

Things had to be believable, of course, so there needed to be couple's pictures on your social media. He needed to lay down with you. He needed to press his body up against yours. he needed to wrap his arms around you. He needed to draw you so close to him that there wasn't any given one inch of space in between you. He needed to press his face to your chest and close his eyes.

Right?

He just needed the picture to look believable. That was all.

So why did he stay cuddled into you? Why did he fall asleep there like he was made to fit? Like it was the only place he's ever wanted to be?

And why did it make you want.

After that, you spent all of your time wanting. Wanting more. The arrangement was perfect. It gave you everything it was supposed to. So why did you want more? Why did you wish Jason would stop apologizing when he said he had to kiss you? Why did your heart sink when his hands left yours after you were away from prying eyes? When did the edits people made of you go from fun to painful, a reminder of the way you wished he really looked at you? Why did you wish he wasn't faking it.

And, fuck that hurt, because he was just faking it all, right? He only looked at you like you were his world when someone else was looking. He didn't want you.

Not like you wanted him.

"Why do you look like that?" His voice shakes you out of your thoughts. Your eyes drift to him where he's sitting on the couch, his phone long forgotten timing out and turning off in his hand.

"What?" Your eyebrows had just lightly drawn together, your voice duller than usual.

"You look sad. What's on your mind?" His face looks a little worried. His eyes searched yours. You hope he can't see the truth lying beneath them.

What were you supposed to tell him? That this wasn't just a game to you anymore? That you can't stomach him holding your hand not because he means it? That you're taking advantage of him? That when he kisses you, you pretend it's real?

You don't meet his eyes. "I can't do this anymore."

#fake dating au #fakeboyfriend!jason #fake boyfriend!jason #saph’s love letters #jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #saph’s thots #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #red hood imagine #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x reader angst #red hood x reader angst #red hood angst #angst #🍓 anon

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princesachicana · 9 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 pt.2

a/n: it's finally here!! how long has it been?! first things first i want to say thank you to everyone who's been rooting for this fic!! I honestly hit a huge writers block and had no motivation to write!! but all the sweet messages from people saying they enjoyed my work has made me so happy!!! SO ONCE AGAIN THANK U AND I HOPE U ENJOY!! I tried my EXTRA HARDEST SO I HOPE THIS GIVES U THE CLOSURE YALL WANTED I LOVE YOU SM! ALSO THIS IS NOT PROOF READ SO PLEASE EXCUSE ANY MISTAKES!! I JUST WANTED TO FINALLY POST FOR U GUYS!!

It took a lot out of you not to stay in bed the next morning. The softness of your bed wrapped around your body gives you some sort of comfort. But of course, staying in bed would only make you feel worse. At least if you got up it would be easier to fake happiness. To no surprise, your phone was flooded with missed calls and texts from both Steven and Belly. Of course, you only responded to belly telling her that you'll explain your reasoning for ditching your "date" with Steven later.

Why did Steven even bother leaving you so many texts last night? If you were such a bother to him? Annoying. That's what he thinks you are. And what if you never heard those disgusting things he said about you? and went on the date with him? Would he just continue to lead you on?

Steven: waiting for you by the pool.

Steven: ur late

Steven: u look pretty even though i can't even see you. pls im starving

Steven: is belly holding you hostage?

Steven: it's been 18 minutes cmon.

Steven: the guys are going to laugh at me for being stood up I'm getting nervous.

Steven: did something happen are you okay?

Steven: belly is worried as well lmk.

You laughed at the messages blinking back angry tears that threatened to fall. Gosh! he was so fake. You could only imagine how relieved he must have been to not hang out with you.

Belly: have funnnn

Belly: no funny business!!

Belly: wait where did you go?!

Belly: Steven keeps pacing back and forth waiting for u

Belly: what’s going on?

Belly: just let us know ur okay

Belly: y/n ??!?!??

Y/n: hey, something came up last night sorry I had you worried. can u come over?

Belly arrived 20 minutes later. You spent the time together watching reruns of your favorite Disney show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Belly asked after a while, noticing something was bothering you.

“I overheard the guys talking about me last night.” You fiddled with the throw blanket that was on your lap. “At first it was just them teasing Steven about our date or whatever.” You took a deep breath upset that you felt like crying. “But Steven only agreed to hang out with me…” You paused blinking back tears. Belly moved closer immediately pulling you into a hug. “He only agreed to hang out with me…so I could stop annoying him! I honestly don’t know what I did wrong?” You pulled away from belly’s arms wiping your tears that had fallen.

“Maybe I was too forward? but I just wanted to see if he felt the same way…it was dumb.” You shrugged. Belly shook her head “Nope my brother is a fucking idiot!” she stood up taking your hand in hers and pulling you up. “I won’t let you mope around all day because of him!” You sighed “I don’t even have a choice do I?” Belly laughed shaking her head. “What do you say we go to the boardwalk? Taylor’s coming in today too” she smirked.

“And maybe someone would be happy to see you I don’t know” she whispered with a grin. “What are you talking about?” You questioned. “Well you know Xavier..the one that works the lemonade stand?” You nodded your head yes. “Well, he totally has the hots for you.” You cringed at her word choice. “He does not!” You laughed. “Oh, he does! you were too busy ogling my brother last summer you didn’t notice him ogling you.” she poked your side teasingly.

“Now let’s go!”

“Stay still before I poke your eye out” Taylor groans finishing up your eyeliner. You were now at the Fisher’s beach house getting ready to go down to the boardwalk. You laugh pulling away “I think that’s enough…if you make my eyeliner any thicker I’d cry!” Taylor playfully pushes your head away. “Sorryyyyy i want to make Xavier fall to his knees when he sees you!” You frown when she brings that name up. Sure, Xavier was a nice guy…and he was cute…but he wasn’t Steven.

You’d always imagined Steven being your first everything. First kiss, first date, first time. It was something you’d dreamt of all this time.

“Yeah…im going to get a snack before we head out do y’all want anything?” You ask heading towards the door. Both girls gave you a sympathetic smile shaking their heads no.

As you reached the kitchen you stopped in your tracks. Steven turned from looking into the fridge. You made eye contact for about 5 seconds before you beelined for the cabinets. “Hey,” Steven broke the silence as you pulled out a granola bar. You felt the warmth of his stare and turned finding him now leaning against the counter. “Hey…” you whispered looking anywhere but his face. “So you gonna tell me what happened last night?” Steven crossed his arms around his chest.

“Just didn’t feel up for it anymore ..” You shrugged nonchalantly. “That’s it?” Steven scoffed. “Yeah…that’s it” you whispered about to walk away. “What’s going on? I’m like so confused right now.” Steven gently gripped your arm. “Nothing just forget it…it’s not like you wanted to go anyways.” you rolled your eyes. “And what makes you think that?” He muttered eyes scouring your face for the truth. “Um, I don’t know let’s see …you quite literally ignored me this entire week!” You responded sarcastically.

“I didn’t mean to. I had a lot of shit on my mind alright?” Steven uttered softly. It almost felt genuine. The words he spoke just last night almost became liquid. “Yeah like what?” You whispered eventually looking into his eyes. “You can tell me..” You spoke gently stepping into him closer. No matter how much he’s hurt you. Steven would always make you melt. “Nothing let’s just forget about it…he pulled away opening up the fridge once again.”

It was like a switch was flipped. How he went right back to that cold shoulder he had been giving you all week. “You're a fucking asshole” You spewed, already ready to walk out of the kitchen. “Where are you going?” He abruptly spoke again. “The boardwalk…you know? so I won’t annoy you here.” With that, you left a confused and remorseful Steven behind.

“Hey, look y/n why don’t you go get a lemonade?” Belly suggested with an eyebrow raise. Shit. you were hoping they forgot about that. “Guys I don’t feel up for this..” You pouted looking between both Taylor and Belly. “Noooo go talk to him! you look hot as fuck.” Taylor gently grabbed your face giving you a mini pep talk.

“What if Xavier wants to hang out..I cant just ditch you guys?!?” You were stalling and they knew it. “We’ll be here waiting for you” Belly smiled. “Just try to have fun alright? But hey if you don’t really want to do it …we’ll back off” She narrowed her eyes at Taylor. “No…I’ll go” You laughed giving both of them a hug “Thank you guys.i really appreciate this.” You’d definitely still be moping around in your room about Steven if it wasn’t for Belly and Taylor. They both wished you luck as you headed straight for the lemonade stand.

As soon as he spotted you. The biggest smile spread across his face. “y/n? damn, it’s been so long” Xavier greeted you with a hug. “It’s only been a year!” You playfully ruffled his curly hair that sat atop his head. “That’s way too long…I enjoy seeing pretty girls year-round.” He spoke smoothly, he definitely knew how to talk to girls. “Shut up” You laughed pushing him away with not that much force.

“I have an hour lunch break…you up for arcade games?”

“So…you seeing anyone?” Xavier asked as he ate a scoop of his mint chocolate chip ice cream. You thought about it for a moment. Technically no you weren’t seeing anyone. But you knew you were still hung up on Steven. A day at the boardwalk with Xavier wouldn’t change that. “It’s complicated…I guess” Xavier sighed “I've been there…it’s rough” You nodded you were curious as to what he meant but you didn’t want to be nosey.

“Hey, look they have street fighter..” Xavier smirked. “Want to go a couple of rounds?” You nodded immediately pulling him towards the game. “Mhhm loser buys the winner a funnel cake!” You suggested with a chuckle. “Ouuu im so down y/n” Xavier squeezed your hand that held his quickly striding towards the arcade game.

Just two more steps, Just two more steps and you’d be fine. The rowdy yelling completely threw you off. You stopped in place looking behind you where the voices were coming from. You had no time to move out of the way, no time to prevent this from happening.No time to stop the trio of boys that you knew all too well. Suddenly a body collided with Xavier, the force immediately making your intertwined hands lose. “Dude, what the fuck?” Xavier groaned. It was then that you snapped back into reality. Eyes wide when you noticed Xavier’s ice cream now all over his shirt.

“What’s up? how are we doing?” That voice full of humor made you scoff. Steven stood tall a smile on his face. You hated that it kind of made your heart flutter. “Steven, what is your problem?” You gestured towards Xavier’s now ice cream stained shirt. “He’ll be fine y/n it’ll wash out.” Steven laughed, but once he noticed you didn’t find this funny at all he frowned. “I’m sorry man, I just came over to say what’s up..” You ignored Steven’s apology not believing he meant it. “Hey want me to help you get cleaned up?” You asked Xavier voice full of concern.

“No.I got it…I’ll see y’all later.” Xavier spoke nonchalantly as he walked away. When he was out of eyesight you brushed past steven heading out the door.

“Y/n” Steven immediately followed behind you. His long legs make it easier for him to catch up with you. “You embarrassed me” You stopped outside the arcade, letting him pull you to the side. “Embarrassed? sorry to interrupt your little date” Steven scoffed. “It's not a date we were just hanging out, why do you care?” You groaned running your hands down your face. “Maybe because just yesterday you were supposed to hang out with me?” Steven spoke definitively.

“Oh my god, just earlier you agreed to forget about it,” you said with an eye roll. “It was dumb, stop acting like you care just go home Steven I did you a favor.” He shook his head “What are you talking about right now?” Steven pulled you in closer, one of his hands placed on your waist. The other coming to the side of your face, willing you to look at him.

“I heard you.i heard everything,” you spoke up voice hoarse. Steven’s heart carried pain at the tears that stood brimming in your eyes. The realization was clear when he made the connection. “And you know..who cares what Jeremiah and Conrad think! what hurt the most was you.” You shrieked. You hated that you were crying in front of him. You hated that when he hauled you against his chest you felt secure.

“I'm sorry baby... I'm sorry” Steven sounded voice vulnerable. Leaving kisses atop your head. “Why would you say that?” you sobbed breaking down in front of the boy who caused it. “I didn't mean any of it” Steven brought your face between his hands once again. “But you said it..it still fucking hurts Steven.”

You wiped your face getting prepared to pull away and walk back home.

“Wait, please let me talk to you.” Steven begged. “okay” you replied being prepared to cry all over again. “My head has been all fucked up..and that isn't an excuse I know” Steven looked down as if he couldn't construct the next words. “Please don't shut me out.” you pleaded gently. “I want you...i have all this time.” Steve confessed for the first time.

“—And I didn't want to fuck anything up we've..been so close all our lives if I ever messed that up I would never forgive myself.” It's as if you were dreaming, the boy you loved stood in front of you disclosing his feelings for you. “And what? this whole week of you acting cold towards me, were you trying to avoid your feelings?” Steven bobbed his head “Yes, if I lied to myself it would make lying to everyone else easier because the fucking truth is I want you so bad” You didn't tell him but at that moment you forgave him.

“And you called me the annoying one?” You giggled pushing on his chest gently. “Right now we could have been making out on the beach….but noo you had to be a brooding boy” Steven tickled your side, causing you to squirm in his arms. “Yeah, my fault can I kiss you now? been practically wanting to my whole life.” Steven threw his head back fake pouting setting one hand over his chest. You figured you'd throw his words right back at him. “You're so desperately desperate”

Steven smirked “Yeah for you? I am” Those words welcomed a whole lot of beautiful feelings. At that moment is when Steven bent down bringing his lips down onto your own. As your lips moved together, butterflies erupted in your belly. You smiled against his lips when you both needed a breath. “Hey, by the way, your not off the hook.. I'm still sort of pissed at you.” You declared pointing a finger into his chest.

“Yeah, I figured” He laughed wrapping his arms even tighter around you. “How about I make it up to you this whole week? I'm taking you out on dates…ill even get on my knees if I have to. I'm going to follow you around like a puppy.” Steven rambled on. You laughed out loud covering your mouth with your hands. “Oh, it's funny?” Steven raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Yeah, you're such a loser.” You joked.

Before Steven could respond you tugged him into another kiss. Perhaps everything wasn't one hundred percent fixed. But you and Steven were finally here together. You and Steven were finally in each other's arms that's all that mattered. You’d figure out the rest together.

tags 🤍: @gillybear17 @snowsharkk @tesssastle @conradsupporterr @alyssa-cabrera @eranthisphiny @xoxoloverb @lostaurorax @lanisdreams @alexzluvz @lalaland-notfound @liltimmyst @unsaidjaelineose @buckys2thicc @lilygreennn @t8lzw @medusaslilsister @1-800-stilinski @yazmi710 @j-brielmalfoy @ashcannotwrite @colbysbrocks @exonct07 @multilover19 @mimisparkle12

@littlefreaksatellite @vintagebitc @lexi-2004 @melllinaa @xcallmetaniax @brizzlessizzler @haroldpotterson @livinginaglasspalace @delicatekidpeanut @queenanababy

@drinkawinchester @sarahbutnot @salvatoremikaelson54 @furiouscopsherduniversity @marrigold-2002 @angeliquelunasstuff @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @daphnen21 @ietss @imanaforever @itsreynasworld @she-is-a-happy-girl @joeybandthings

@kateisintrouble @stvrdustalexx @fictionisjustbetter @whezzy223

@conradssupporterr @clubmeredith13 @fatduck45 @trampstampz @fangirl-kimora

@just-let-me-fangirl-in-peace @reenfluffmarshmallow @kaz-mf-brekker

@yazmunson @bookg1rl @hockey-lover86

@just-a-pink-lady @moo-b1tch

#tsitp series #tsitp x you #tsitp fanfic #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty fanfic #belly conklin #steven conklin x reader #steven conklin imagine #steven conklin tsitp #tsitp #prime video tsitp #prime video #Conrad fisher #jeremiah fisher

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always-andromeda · 15 days

Text

𝐝𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐝

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⟡ Ellie Williams x F!Reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ⟡ 1232

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ⟡ You and Ellie enjoy an all-too-rare "quiet" moment with each other.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 ⟡ soooo...this is my first time writing something for Ellie...please be gentle lmao. I decided to be a little easy on myself and start off with something light with absolutely no plot. Just pure, fluffy porn. That being said, I want to add that from this point onwards, anything I write based in the TLOU universe, I will be including links on what we can do to aid Palestine. From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

HOW YOU CAN HELP PALESTINE

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ⟡ smut (minors, do not interact, please and thank you), reader has no physical description aside from being afab and able-bodied, fingering (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving), pet names (babe, baby), slight overstimulation, general softness, nothing else I can think of!

Early mornings suit you, Ellie decides. Especially when it's all cold and quiet and blue light as a thin layer of frost covers the outside of the window by her bed. You're both thankful that it obscures the view of any eyes that may have been peeking into Ellie's garage.

They would've seen you sprawled out on her mattress and Ellie slotted firmly between your legs, paying all sorts of attention to your thighs. And thank fucking god, you're the only one who can hear the filthy words that fall from that wonderful mouth of hers.

"You're so fucking soft, babe." Then she chuckles, "And so easy to work up."

Your thighs shiver with anticipation and you're far beyond the point of feeling any kind of shame about it. There's only urgency filling your chest as you hope that Ellie's teasing turns into something. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd spent so long on you that Jesse had to come and "wake her" for patrol.

Now that had been a special kind of torture: Ellie hoisting herself up off of you and yelling to Jesse that she'd be right out as she pulled on her hoodie and gathered her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck. She grabbed her backpack, kissed you on the forehead, and muttered, "See you tonight," with a cocky grin. Then she fucking left.

And you'd have to shake away whatever mounting pressure she'd built up inside of you and uncomfortably shuffle your way home in yesterday's clothes all while trying to avoid the watching eyes of Jackson's population. It felt like every ounce of deprivation was written on your face in those moments and you hated it.

So you thread a hand through her hair, gently urging her towards your cunt.

"Hey, hey, hey, I'm gettin' there," she teases and removes your hand.

“Now, please,” you whine.

But it’s no use. With a little laugh under her breath, she keeps peppering kisses along your bikini line. You know she relishes in it, listening to you gasp as she gets closer and closer to where you need her only to pull back moments before her lips could connect with your center.

She must be feeling nice this morning; she hasn’t admonished you for squirming or whining. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t have patrol today. Or maybe it’s because you spent hours after dinner the night prior relieving her stress as well. Or maybe it’s just the simple fact that quiet moments like these are rare. All you know is that you can handle it; you can handle her.

You ball up the sheets in your fists and adjust your hips ever so slightly, settling in for whatever Ellie has planned for you. She uses a finger to pull the thin cotton crotch of your underwear to the side and groans to herself.

She laughs, “I don’t even have to try and you’re soaked.”

You lift yourself up on your elbows to look down at her. “Imagine what would happen if you did try,” you quip.

“Tough talk for a girl in your position,” she says. Before you can give her another snarky reply, she licks a long stripe up the center of you. The sudden warmth is welcome but it still startles you.

Ellie adds with a scoff, “Besides, I don’t need to imagine. I am well aware of what happens when I try.” With that, she eases a finger in you.

In and out, she patiently worked you open until asking, “Want another, babe?”

You give a breathy yes. A beat passes where you wait for her to request a please alongside it. But it never comes. She must be feeling really nice.

With a whine, you feel her slip that second finger in. She’s methodic, curling her lithe fingers with each pump and carefully itching an ache inside of you that begs to be scratched. Bit by bit, she only feeds the flame; only makes it climb higher and higher up your belly until it seems to burn at the back of your throat. That wet squelch between your legs intensifies as she fucks you faster. You let out a soft moan and Ellie curses under her breath.

“That’s right, baby. You’ve got it.”

You can’t quite see her expression but you can tell she’s got that smug smirk creeping across her face. It’s the face she makes when she can tell just how well she’s playing you.

Right then she decides to go for the kill. Her tongue flicks over your swollen clit in time with her scissored fingers and before too long, you’re chasing it. Rutting against her mouth, you follow that all consuming fire that burns away each and every one of your better senses. It craves nothing more than pleasure and the praise of the girl you love more than life itself.

Strangely, you don’t mind it. In another world, you could afford to be so needy and so selfish whenever you wanted. Perhaps that’s why you’re so drawn to the feeling now; to the fleetingness of it. It’s lightning in a bottle. And with the heat mounting, you feel ready to burst.

A string of wanton curses falls from your lips. Bones scorched with pleasure, you're quickly approaching the point where you’ll be nothing more than ash.

Ellie groans desperately against your cunt, “C’mon, give it to me. You’re almost there.”

That’s all you need to fall over the edge. You shatter as soon as your climax makes contact. You’re a mess of limbs. Legs wrapping around the woman attached to your cunt. Heels digging into her back, still chasing that endless more until it damn near hurts. Chest heaving as you start to realize that it never will be enough. But somehow, that’s alright. If it was enough, there’d be nothing left for her to give; nothing left to yearn. And you’d rather spend the rest of your life wanting her than wandering in oblivion.

Finally, the pleasure gets to be too much. You’re all but a pile of smoldering cinders, terrifyingly close to blowing away in the wind. You cry out and tap the side of Ellie temple, signaling the end of the

She quickly obliges and switches to pressing gentle kisses to your mound between whispered praises. Hands gripping your thighs, her thumbs swirl soothing circles to your trembling flesh. Her kisses work their way up your belly, between your breasts, across your collar, up to your lips.

“You alright?” she asks softly.

Your head still spins a bit but you manage a nod and a low hum which only makes her chuckle.

A thin layer of sweat on her forehead sheens in the light. The smattering of freckles you adore dance with the flush on her cheeks. Judging by the creases next to her eyes and the smile she wears, she’s languishing in how you look too.

“I sure did a number on you, huh?”

“A little,” you mutter. But you know you’re not fooling her.

Ellie settles at your side and weaves an arm behind your neck, loosely holding you to her. You stay like that for a few seconds; quietly intertwined.

You look up at her through your lashes and break the silence. “Love you, Els.”

She smiles and presses one last kiss to your nose. “Love you too, weirdo.”

#˚ʚ meda writes ɞ˚#ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams #the last of us #the last of us part 2

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rillils · 3 months

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STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 2/3 (here is part 1)

picking up from where we left off:

some 65 years into the future, steve's plane is fished out of the ice, and they find him, frozen like a sexy hot-dayum popsicle, but still alive thanks to the same super serum that made him go from Smol to Lorge.

steve is thus brought back into the world, but it's a world he no longer recognizes after all these years; a world where all the people he used to know and love are long dead, and his own face has been turned into a tool for propaganda over the years. obviously, he has a hard time adjusting, and he turns to fighting again, joining this group of kinda possibly superheroes, aka the avengers.

lots of exciting new things happen, sure; but steve is still pretty miserable. until one day, a mysterious masked assassin dressed in bondage gear (but not really), and sporting one very shiny metal arm (!!!!), is sent to kill steve's sort-of-boss. and then to kill steve himself. oh no!!

in what is possibly the most gripping, most visually pleasing hand-to-hand fight sequence in the history of cinema,

(NO BUT SERIOUSLY, all jokes aside, if you've never watched it then please do bc it's!!! *shrieks* so fucking good!!!)

a fight sequence which also happened to unlock both steve's and an entire fandom's competence kink with that little sexy knife-flipping trick alone -- i know you know what i'm talking about, don't you lie to me babes--

as i was saying, steve manages to knock the mask off of his opponent's face. and who do you think appears before him? can you guess??

DING DING DING!!! EXACTLY!!! IT'S HIS LONG-LOST BAE BUCKY! who apparently doesn't recognize him??

confused and upset, steve fights to uncover the truth. turns out, the man is indeed the very same bucky he grew up with and loved. only, he didn't actually die in that tragic fall in the ravine; rather, due to the experiments performed on him while he was a war prisoner, he survived long enough to be found and captured by the enemy. who then proceeded to torture and brainwash him, using him as a tool for murder against his will, and literally putting him back in the freezer when they didn't need him.

which, as it happens, is how he stayed so young in the first place: he, uh, spent the better part of 70 years frozen. yeaaah, are the parallels paralleling or what, hmmmm?? preserved in ice like your mom's best lasagna from last week? plunging to a 'death' that isn't really a death? waking up in the future kinda screwed over? :D

ANYWAY

steve is even more devastated than before, now that he's learned that while he was asleep in the ocean, bucky was out there suffering. when he finally confronts bucky again (and it's fucking epic and also fucking heartbreaking, believe you me) steve is desperate to bring bucky, his bucky, back. knowing in his heart that his bae is still somewhere in there, no matter how deeply buried.

in the most critical moment(TM), steve chooses to stay behind, on a plane that's about to fucking blow up around them - just like bucky did for him all those years ago - because if he can't save bucky, then he'd rather die with him.

only, bucky is scared and confused af at the moment, and he attacks steve, because 1) he has a mission after all, he's supposed to kill this guy dammit, and 2) wtf is even going on here??? who IS this man, WHY does he keep saying that they've known each other their whole lives?? and WHY does bucky feel like he's actually seen him somewhere else before?????

AND HERE IS THE PIVOTAL MOMENT OF ALL PIVOTAL MOMENTS: for the first time in his life, steve refuses to fight back. like he literally drops his shield out of the plane and into the river underneath, in a very powerful and symbolic gesture, signifying his surrender: he's not going to hurt bucky anymore, no matter what. THIS FUCKER LITERALLY LETS BUCKY BEAT HIM TO A PULP, WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO DEFEND HIMSELF, 100% ready to let bucky kill him if that's what's gonna happen here, because that's still better than living in a world where bucky's gone - a world where bucky will look at him and only see a target, or a stranger at best.

and then!!!!

no this is like, this is THE most romantic shit, okay, like you could try to convince me that it isn't for the next hundred years and i wouldn't buy it, because. BECAUSE.

at the very last moment, steve finally manages to break through bucky's brainwashing, breaking the metaphorical spell bucky was under. and do you know how he does that? i ask you, do you know how steve does that, my love?

by repeating to bucky the very same words bucky offered him way back in the beginning, when he proposed asked steve to move in together. till death do us part the end of the line, baby. romeo could NEVER

bucky, who was about to deal the fatal blow, freezes instantly, finally recognizing the man under him.

and when steve falls out of the plane, bucky jumps after him, instinctively saving his life instead.

but bucky can't stay. confused, wounded, vulnerable, and only just beginning to remember who he used to be and what was done to him, he slips away and hides from steve - and from all the other people who might be looking for him, and probably want him dead. you think this is gonna stop steve, though?? now that he knows that bucky is still alive, and that he remembers him??? now that he knows that bucky's not lost to him forever?? AS IF!!

(to be continued in part 3)

#stucky #stevebucky #i have literally no idea how to tag this but???????#the silly stucky recap you didn't ask for #part 2 :D #catws #rillers scribbles

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ianthine-ichor · 4 months

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I had an ask for this story but it was sadly eaten by the Tumblr gods 😔

So for the anon who asked for John Price x Reader who comes to him years later after a bad breakup because they are in danger, this one's for you!

John Price x Reader ~ All I Have is You

Summary: You come running back to John years after a nasty break-up in hopes of finding some help out of a horrible situation.

Word count:: 6.5k

Tw in tags

John's life could never be simple. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how many loose ends he pulled together by the skin of his teeth. There always managed to be something he let lay dormant, something he let fall to the wayside just long enough for it to maybe even slip his mind. And damn near every time it did, it came back with a vengeance.

However, of all the things he knew would come back to haunt him, you were what he expected least of all.

He had believed you a long dead part of his life, a piece of himself better numbed in alcohol than thought about. A face he'd spent endless nights trying to forget the smile of, endless partners failing to take your stead. He'd long since conceded to that aspect of himself being buried, hardly remedied by the ‘I love you’ that would fall from whoever had been his most recent escape from the icy cold of his bed.

But then, on a day like any other in this silent little place he'd given up trying to make feel like any sort of home, he'd opened the door to your unmistakable features.

He didn't know what to feel in the years of silence that seemed to pass. His mind and muscles tore themselves apart trying to find what reaction seemed appropriate. A part of himself didn't believe it, a similar part almost reached out to hold you, and another felt infuriated. He wasn't sure if it was because even so close you felt like light years away or if it was because he wanted to slam the door in your face for daring to ever come back. And for a moment, however small, he seriously considered the latter of the two.

But then you spoke. And suddenly whatever amount of spine had led him to the thought melted like butter.

“I need to talk. I know I have no right to ask but…” you paused, your voice softer than he thinks he's ever heard you speak. There might have even been a quiver in it, but he could hardly believe such a sound could come from the person who had once held together his broken pieces like you'd been solving him your entire life.

“I need your help” your chin raises and you meet his gaze, his skin flashing with the familiarity in how your eyes narrowed and your face snarled. It's hard to take your attempt at strength seriously with how feigned of an attempt it was. He says nothing and just the same he watches as you crumble. Your eyes avert, your hands twitch, your body leans away from him.

He hardly recognizes you.

But he steps aside all the same, a nod inviting you in as he keeps his vow of silence. You almost hesitate, but step in soon enough. Like a long lost ritual you kick your shoes off at the door, hanging your jacket and bristling as the light cold leaves your skin. He notes how you don't let him out of your sight but he can't tell why your eyes burn as much as they do.

Eventually he leads you to the kitchen. He wonders if you notice the empty frames. He wonders if you even care to look.

Like some twisted version of an old dream, you take your spot at the table where you used to sit. And before he even realizes what he's doing he's perking coffee, his eyes turning to you.

“Coffee?” He asks, but he isn't even sure why he does. Looking at you would be enough of an answer. You looked like you hadn't slept in months. You nod anyway.

He pretends to forget how you make your coffee. Out of spite? Anger? Frustration? It doesn't matter. He simply couldn't find the energy to put into someone whose presence made his heart find an old pace that left him biting his tongue at the bittersweet taste. Either way you get your coffee and he somehow finds the energy to sit across from you.

“You wanted to speak. Speak” his words come out harsher than he means them yet he doesn't find regret settling in his chest. Only minor annoyance as he watches you almost recoil from him, your drink pulled to your chest. Your eyes seem to search around for a moment, as if the words you needed so badly to speak would simply appear in front of you. He remembers how he used to find it sweet and can only react by biting his tongue harder.

“You haven't changed much” you begin. He can't help the grimace he shows as the annoyance in his chest grows. He catches how you straighten up under it.

“And you have” he answers back. You say nothing for a long moment and he isn't sure if he offended you or not. But he watches as you take a deep breath, your face hardening in a way he doesn't like.

“I know this isn't exactly…great for you. But it isn't for me either-”

“Why’d you leave?” the words slip out of his mouth before they had even been a thought in his head. Yet where he expected a look of anger or annoyance of your own, you only pause. And soon after, your look manages to grow colder.

“Because you didn't love me anymore” you answer back succinctly, calmly. He feels rage bloom in his chest at the words.

“Bullshit” he mutters through gritted teeth. He doesn't catch the sudden grip you hold on your cup and the way you slightly shake. But other than that you don't break.

“I must have phrased that wrong” there's a tone in your voice, an inflection of something horrible on your tongue.

“You did a piss poor job of making me feel like I was anything other than your fucking bed warmer” your words fall like acid on him. They soak through his marrow and into his bloodstream and become him. And his body rejects it just as quickly.

“You knew the type’a job I had when you met me” his voice is low and restrained as he tries to hold himself back

“It had nothing to do with your work-”

“Well what the bloody hell did it have to do with then!?” He stands, his hands slamming on the table as you immediately flinch away.

“Sit-!” You yell almost instinctively, the only thing he catches is the sudden terror in your tone. You take a stilted breath before speaking again.

“Sit down…please” your voice is much calmer but it does a horrible job at hiding the hitch in your voice or how your subtle shaking suddenly isn't so subtle. The strange demeanor stuns him for a moment, long enough for his flash of frustration to cool back to a simmer. There's a horrible feeling that crawls up his spine at your reaction, this gnawing, biting disgust that rips through him in a way he can't quite explain. He listens despite its elusive source or how he hates the way your eyes are locked on his every movement.

A horrible quiet passes that only further smothers the flames that had grown in his chest. You both hardly took any sips of your coffee as you seemed focused on your breathing and he was focused on loosening the sudden tightness of his muscles. Soon enough he spoke again, though he wasn't about to attempt that conversation again, as unsatisfied as he was by your answer.

“Why are you here?” He asks and this time he finds that his voice is weaker than he'd have liked it; betraying the words that he had meant to sting.

Yet despite that, he watches as your breath pauses and your grip tightens. How had you managed to grow even more tense?

“I don't have anyone else left” you answered, your eyes finally missing him, flickering away for what was barely a single moment. In spite of how hard he fought against it the painful beating in his chest left him worried. He tried not to show it. He hoped he hid it well enough for you not to notice.

The silence seemed to get to you. That or his stare had. Either way you continued.

“I just need somewhere to stay. Just a few months. I’ll figure it out by then and be gone. Just long enough to get some cash together” you try to explain and finally he spots something familiar in you. But it is not a part of you he once knew that he sees. No, he spots something else.

“You’re running from something” he interjects at his realization, your movements freezing at his accusation. You don't seem shocked so much as worried. He hated that you would ever even try to hide the fact from him.

“Yeah um…I am- but it's- it's complicated okay? I just need somewhere to stay-”

“Is it someone?” He questioned, your words lips closing into quiet once more. It stings a strange part of his soul that you seemed so unwilling to tell him outright.

“...It doesn't matter” you finally speak and he hides how his fists tighten. He hates that he cares at all. He hates that he can't help it.

Your plea for shelter lingers in the air for moments longer than either of you cared for. You couldn't handle the quiet of that for long.

“I don't have much, but I'll give you what I can. I'll get a job and pay you back I-”

“No” he shut you down immediately. Your face fell, the desperation of your gaze fixed on him.

“You can stay and I don't need your money” he clarifies and despite the lack of smile, your relief is more than visible.

“Thank you. I promise I'll be gone as quickly as I can get everything in order” you try to instill any sort of confidence that you would be of little bother, that he would hardly notice you here at all.

He couldn't help but feel his stomach fall to his feet at the words.

The first month you stayed had been…surreal, to say the least. For the most part the two of you did pretty well with avoiding each other. For moments of the day he would even wonder if that had been some weird fever dream. You? At his door? After so long? It all just felt so strange. Stranger yet that the circumstances were all but ideal. He thought about asking further, about pushing for what it was that led you here and why you had even been running in the first place. But he found that his tongue nearly died in his mouth every time he saw you around. It almost didn't feel real.

And despite the cold that still ran up his spine, the emptiness that found refuge in his chest, the blood that sat heavy in his veins; despite it all…

You still felt like home.

Yet you were still so far out of reach. Words seemed like complicated equations, conversations like rocket science. His words never left the way he wanted them to, his tone always the wrong amount of harsh. And with the way your eyes tracked his presence when he was around, almost unwavering from him…it all just felt so hard to explain. Something had changed, of course it had. It had been years since you two had last seen each other and it had hardly ended on good terms. Still, there was something so wrong here. Something in the way you ever so slightly leaned from him, or the way your eyes flickered to the closest door, or how it all seemed so familiar in a way that wasn't like home. In a way that was more like the warzones he'd grown so accustomed to.

And he could just see it, that fight in your eyes. That twitchiness that you had never had around him before. And he couldn't help but wonder why. Why. Why. Why. Why. What were you fighting and why did it almost feel like it was him?

It was horrible, the way that question had finally been answered.

The front door had slammed open, startling him from the dinner he had been making and setting every one of his senses aflame. It slammed shut before he had even made it to the hall and when he had he could hardly bring himself to swallow the scene.

You stood pushing on the door like it would hold damn near the whole world at bay. With how violently you were shaking he almost wished it would. Your hiccups and sniffles filled the air as you tried and failed about a hundred times to turn the lock. Your clothes were disheveled, your jacket gone and your shirt caked in dirt and…

No, no that wasn't…

“Y/n?” He hardly even remembered opening his mouth before your name fell out. Quiet and worried in a way he hadn't meant to show.

When your head snapped to him all of his insides twisted in a sickly mess. Features he remembered days of leaving soft kisses on were now warped by deep bruises and bleeding wounds. Your eyes wide and glossy, your skin a mix of blood and tears. Your breath had hitched as if any movement would turn him against you. He couldn't help but feel worse at the notion. He moves. Just one simple step closer.

And suddenly it's as if a dam breaks. Your murmuring words he can't understand, a panic on your face he hadn't seen in all of the time he's known you. You yell and thrash and he can't tell if you even know what you're doing, he can't tell if you even see him anymore. His body almost acts on instinct as he quickly grabs the nearest cloth near him before making his way to you. He places the cloth in your hand, your body flinching in a way that makes him hesitate a moment before he guides you to cover your bleeding nose.

“You gotta breathe” he mutters, no longer attempting to cover the look of confused worry that covers him. You seem to try, but a bloody nose makes that a little difficult. In the meantime he guides you to the bathroom, sitting you down as he fishes out a medkit. You stop talking altogether at that point, going eerily silent.

And it stays that way as he wipes away the blood and around deeply forming bruises. It stays as he cleans the wounds and makes sure your nose isn't broken. It stays when the peroxide hits your skin and when the bandages cover them. It's a horrible, false silence. A silence so loud his ears ring, though that could have just as well been the adrenaline leaving his veins. For a while he's fine with it, for a while it's better than the terror-filled panic, for a while it's better than the way you stared and twitched and sobbed.

But then you get a look in your eye. A dangerous look. A look he's seen too many times in his line of work. And suddenly the quiet isn't so safe anymore.

“Still with me there?” He asks in an attempt to gain your attention. To his relief your eyes flick to him and nod. He doesn't quite like how quickly they had turned cold again. In fact he's sure he hates it.

“What happened?” He finally asks and watches how the distant look in your eyes dissolves. Your lips quiver as you try desperately to hold onto a calm that wasn't coming. Your hands grip tightly onto a bloodied paper towel in your hands.

“I-” your voice cracks and you clear your throat. Your eyes avoid him like a simple glance would kill you.

“It's complicated I-” the panic in your voice rises again.

“I have to go- John I have to go-”

“Now hold on” his hand lands on yours, your body tensing under his touch. He can't help but feel sickened at the thought of you scared of him.

“Whatever happened, I promise it's safe, alright? No one's getting in here. You're safe. Just…” he pauses for a moment, his eyes showing his hesitation before he, as gently as he's ever done anything in his life, he places your hand to his chest. Your fingers flatten against him, familiar and comforting, as he lets out a deep breath.

“Just breathe” he almost pleads, something he finds himself regretting almost immediately. Yet despite feeling that he was doing a horrible job, it seemed to calm you all the same. Much to his relief you managed a few deep breaths, your hand still pressed on his heartbeat that he forced to slow.

He is surprised, after all of this, to hear a faint laugh fall from your lips. Quiet and saddened yes, but a laugh nonetheless. And he couldn't have felt more ridiculous than at that moment.

“What?” Or perhaps it seems he could, his dumbfoundedness not hidden in the tone of his voice. It isn't hard for you to wipe the smile from your face, if it had even really been a smile at all.

“Nothing I just…I remember when I had to do this for you” your tone is bittersweet.

“I never thought I'd be on the other side” your voice is breathless and strained, a certain feeling behind it he couldn't quite place. He finds himself snickering along as the once painful memory hits him. He would agree. He never imagined someone strong enough to pull him back to reality could ever need him to do the same.

“Yeah…world's got a fucked up way of making circles” he replies and you give a half-hearted attempt at agreement. And it seems that a moment too soon you pull away and he feels almost as if you take his heartbeat with you.

“Yeah…Yeah, it does…” you murmur, a sentiment far too true found in the quiet whisper. There is almost silence until you speak again.

“I'm sorry” the apology falls in a way not meant to ever leave you. The sound was as sorrowful as seeing a bird stripped of its wings. An act against nature, a horrible twisting of what should be.

“I’m sorry” you break again, though this time you don't shatter so much as you crumble. And he knows then that those words aren't for him. That he hated how they sounded coming from you, how they weren't what he wanted, how he could only wish you'd take them back so that he didn't have to feel the hole in his chest trying to carve its way through his skin.

And how useless he felt then, sat in front of your broken state knowing that you had once done the same with him. How utterly and completely he knew that there was nothing he could do to wipe this looming, horrible terror that was held so deep in your eyes he could only see a warped reflection of himself in them.

And he simply couldn't handle it. He felt weak, hopeless, useless. But what was there to do? He had never seen you so truly pained, he had only ever known the other side of this situation.

So he did the only thing he could. He pulled you close, slow and cautious, before the both of you crashed into one another. Hands that had twitched at his mere presence now held him as tightly as the shirt on his back. As if, should you let go, you'd be cast adrift again into the crimson rapids. And he could only hold just as tightly, hoping that if he just held on tight enough that the falling parts of you would stay, that he might save even a single piece from the agony you were lost in a sea of.

You two stayed like that for a long while, hardly caring about that time that passed. At some point, so overtaken by the exhaustion of your endless bouts of tears and the near-death experience you'd just endured, you'd passed out in his arms.

And like some cruel twisting of a memory he held dear, he carried you to bed. He tried not to glance too much at your features, the cuts and bruises sending sickening waves through him, as he laid you down. He took a shaky breath as he covered you in a blanket, taking care to be quiet as he left the room.

In the absence of your presence there was only rage.

A fire unlike any he had felt struck him like lightning, a burning hatred at who could have ever done this to you. His feet moved but his mind was preoccupied with who and why and- god why didn't you just tell him what happened? What could have ever led to this?! What had you done? Who had you upset?

The thoughts plagued his mind as he set up his spot on the couch. Yet when the pillows had been laid and the blanket placed, he could not find it in himself to rest. He could only pace and snarl and burn with such a horrible feeling. How dare they. How dare they. How could anyone do this to you? To his-...

It was only those final words that managed to slow his thoughts, a sinking feeling resting in his chest.

Not his. You were not his. Not for a long while, not anymore…

But there was no hiding the fire in his skin. No denying how deeply he held you, how desperately he wished to never let go again. He could only curse whatever higher power could hear him. Curse them for ever doing this to either of you. Of ever letting him know your name.

It was a horrible pain to want so desperately to have you back, but there was no pain worse than you returning in broken pieces. Worse yet to know that, maybe, had he done things differently, you might not have left his arms to shatter against a world he could have protected you from. To know that he failed.

He lit a cigar with a shaky hand. He knew then that there would be no sleeping tonight.

Your eyes were heavy as they opened, protesting against your attempts to wake up. You thought, in your groggy state, that it might be better to never open them again, to give in to what they demanded from you. To close them a final time.

But it was only a passing thought in your utterly exhausted state. A whisper held at the back of your mind just waiting for the moment that it might scream itself into existence. But not today. Not now, at least.

And so you forced them open, a groan halfheartedly falling from your lips as you pushed away the comfort of infinite dark. You managed enough strength to sit up, regretting it almost immediately when a dull pain burned your side. You would have been confused, maybe even a little worried, if not for the returning throbs of the many cuts along your face and arms that swiftly and brutally remind you of yesterday.

So close. You had been so close to the end. You were lucky to have made it out alive. It was honestly a miracle you had.

Cornered, like an animal. You remembered the feeling well. Trapped right where you didn't want to be. It was like he could smell your terror as he bared his wolfish teeth in the warm street light. A wicked smile, one that scorched itself into an unhealthy scar upon you. Never to be forgotten, a thing of nightmares.

You had run as far as you could go, lungs empty and feet sore, your hands covered in the warmth of your own blood as you tried to hold even just a part of yourself together, to manage to escape through the skin of your teeth once more. You had done it before, but a second time was surely a test of fate.

You had been lucky, then, that a bus was passing by. It shouldn't have been there so late so far out of town. But by some higher being or just through the world's sick way of fucking with you it was. You had never been so relieved to be met with headlights in your life; you practically screamed in relief as you waved it down. Your hunter was as scared as a doe in them, slithering off into the shadows like the coward you knew him as. The driver, a woman in her forties, looked horrified at the state of you. But you had brushed off her panic and worry and told her to simply drive. You were thankful the bus was empty. You couldn't have handled anyone else's questions in your utter panic.

You had only been a five-minute drive from salvation, from the home you had long since abandoned, only to return to in your time of need. Five minutes.

He must have known. Someone might have told him or you might have mentioned John in one of your many pain-filled benders. It didn't matter. He knew where you were, and it seemed his patience had only grown thinner. You were sure now that he would not stop with breaking you under his iron grip, but utterly destroying you.

All at once these thoughts hit you, flooding your mind with panic and worry. You're breathing shallowed as your mind falls down this path, stopping only when the end of the memory comes to mind.

John…

You tried to move him from your mind, to rid yourself of the sinking feeling that came when you thought of how quickly he had jumped to help you, even after years of silence and weeks of ignoring each other. You try not to think of his attempts at gentle touch, calloused battle-worn hands not quite built for the kindness he was showing. You remove from your mind how he held your hand to him, how it seemed like no time had passed from when you left with how quickly he knew what would truly calm you. And most of all, you try to remove the feeling of his arms around you, desperate and worried and familiar and home. You try, as little as that means nowadays.

You deduce that sitting in silence isn't the best way to distract you from these things, and so you finally stand from the bed, noting only then that you don't remember falling asleep here. But you let that slip your mind as well. You prefer the static buzz of being busy over thinking too much about any of this. It only made things harder.

So your feet moved without you, intimately familiar with the halls and doors and light switches. After all, it had been your home, once upon a lifetime ago.

You hardly stagger as you make your way to the kitchen, accustomed to the constant lull of pain in the back of your mind. A whisper of its own, and one you realized it better to ignore.

You are close to allowing the static buzz to take over, close to numbing and leaving your brain on autopilot. Close to the preferable numbness. So very close. But upon taking a step into the kitchen, you are met with a sight so twistedly familiar you are shocked back into yourself.

John sat at the table, two plates laid out and coffee poured. A quaint scene, an old one. A memory from a different time, faded and aged and different in ways that leave you sick. Because he didn't stare with the complete adoration of a man in love, nor did his eyes avert, distracted and tired, as they had on the day you had left him here. But instead they tear through you. Locked on you the second you entered. It amazed you how his eyes of crystal blue, so similar to that of a frozen storm, could burn through you so easily.

You think for a moment that this is it. That he's going to kick you out with only a final meal and that you are going to be thrown to the starved wolf you knew lurked just outside. You prepared yourself to plead, to apologize, to ask for any bit of mercy he might show you. After all, you had lost your dignity a long time ago, and it wouldn't be the first time you had begged for your life.

But then, as if the elements of himself collided, the fire in his eyes cooled to a warm glow. Soft and familiar and warm, warm, warm.

You almost wished then that he'd return to his fiery glare.

“Sit, love” It isn't a command as much as a quiet plea, his voice is soft and calm and maybe even worried, a rare combination for him. It's a sound so foreign now that you almost don't trust it. His expression falls further as you hesitate.

“I just wanna talk” he tried to explain, to give you any reason to trust him. It works, though only barely. You take a hesitant seat across from him.

The smell of the food hits your nose and only then do you realize you hadn't eaten last night. The waft of coffee only seems to make things worse as it reminds you of how tired you are.

“We can eat first” you can't tell if it's a question or a statement, but either way you take the opportunity. You were too weak to deny how much you needed this right now. You would regret it later, you were sure, but for right now you would allow yourself this small indulgence.

And so it was quiet, absent the sound of forks hitting plates. Quiet in a way that you weren't sure if you liked or despised. You wondered if it even mattered.

It was a few bites in and halfway through your coffee that he spoke again.

“I saw a butterfly this morning” his words cut the silence in a way that baffles you out of the static once more. Out of your head and your thoughts and the sinking feeling in your chest.

“Oh?” You respond almost too naturally, almost too much like you used to. If it weren't for the heaviness in your voice, you might have even forgotten that this wasn't like it used to be.

“Yeah. Should’ve seen it. It had all your favorite colors” his words are almost light in spite of the tense atmosphere and, despite it all, it manages the smallest smile from you.

“I’m sure it was beautiful” you reply and watch as the look on his face changes. You can't quite read it, a strange softness is all you can take from it. But there never fails to be that lingering sadness there. That worry. That pain you can't quite bring yourself to address. And so you look away, your eyes turned down to your food once more.

The silence that follows threatens to suffocate the two of you, drown you in this horrible replication of better times, and punish you for daring to seek even this small comfort. And so, knowing that there is only one way this will go, he finally asks.

“What happened last night?” You feel your throat tighten almost immediately, not daring to pick up your fork when the weight of that question falls atop you. You find it hard to give him an answer, let alone one that might satisfy him.

“I…It’s…” you struggle and hope that maybe you might just disappear, that maybe all of this was some horrible nightmare you'd wake from. But as seconds passed it became clear it wasn't. Clearer still that you had to give him an answer after what he'd seen.

“It's complicated” you try to explain but you knew the moment the words fell that they wouldn't be enough. You think that maybe he'll be angry at this, that he'll slam the table like he had before and demand a better explanation. But a glance shows that his expression only deepens in its worry.

“Then explain it to me” he pleads once more. It was a rare day he ever pleaded, begged, or even so much as asked for something. Rarer yet that it's genuine. Your mouth goes dry and silence remains. You can't bring yourself to look at him.

“Love-” his hand reached for yours and the contact shocks every nerve in your body. You flinch away from him, regretting it a moment later when his worry turns to pain on his face. He retracts his hand with the most hesitance you've ever seen from him; a man so usually sure of himself.

“I just need to know what's happening. I-...” he falters, another rare sight. He takes a shaky breath.

“I won't hurt you” those words come out stronger than the rest, as truthful as he could have possibly made them. And, despite its softness, it seems to tear apart the very walls you had built to keep you safe.

But safe from what, exactly? When the wolf lays outside, and this place is your final sanctuary, what does that make him? You weren't quite sure, but somehow you knew that whatever this was, it felt…well it felt familiar at least. A devil you knew well enough to find some comfort in the warmth of.

Your head turns away, arms held against you in a pitiful attempt to comfort yourself. You think, for a moment, that you might run from here. That you might leave everything behind in the wake of the words that threaten to leave your tongue.

But he wants the truth. And who are you to deny him it? It couldn't make things much worse than they already are.

“Where do you even want me to start?” You ask him, voice hollow and cold and empty. There was no more of yourself to give than a story. You wondered if the sacrifice would even matter.

“Wherever you need to” he answers back, his shoulders squared: tense. You had half a mind to comfort him, but you doubt it would've helped. So, with a deep breath that does very little to calm your nerves, you finally answer him.

“When I left I didn't want to start over, but I didn't want to see you again either. So I moved a few towns over” you started, your voice detached from yourself, like it came from someone else entirely.

“A few months later I met someone. He had been so kind at first. Loving, attentive. He made me feel like I existed in the world again. Made me feel wanted” your words murmur and a snarl forms, even talking about it makes you sick.

“I was stupid, blinded, didn't pay attention. Didn't care, really…” you pause, your hands indenting into your skin as if to keep you where you sat, as if to stop you from fading from here.

“I married him” your words come out much more mournful than you mean to, your snarl nothing more than a quivered lip now. You had married that monster.

You didn't have to glance at John to know the look on his face. Anger, rage, a twisted form of jealousy. It was a knife to his back, you imagine, that you might have married another man before he had ever put a ring on your finger. But you weren't quite sure you cared anymore. After all, it wasn't you who had been so cold to him those final days you were together.

“I didn't realize who he was until then. He'd always been…rough. Arrogant, quick-tempered, prone to violence. But I guess I just thought that he wouldn't ever treat me like that. That I was different. That he loved me” your words shake and you do your best to pull those broken strings together. To steel yourself. To not be so pathetic.

“I was wrong…” you allow yourself the pain of those three words and in so scar your heart further as you admit it. He had never loved you.

“I tried to get away, I tried to start over again, but he wouldn't let me leave. I can't get a job without him finding me, can't get a place to stay, can't start over. I thought maybe if I came here, maybe if my name wasn't on anything, maybe if I was careful enough then I could figure it out…I was wrong about that too” you curse yourself when tears sting at you. You do your best to hide it, to disappear in front of his own eyes. But there was only so much you could do. Hiding from him had never been your strong suit.

John feels…well he doesn't quite know. A mixture of everything horrible, he thinks. He can't stand how your eyes avoid him as the words fall, how with each passing word he can only find regret. Regret that he hadn't held you closer, that he hadn't kept you safe. And he hates that the consequences don't fall to him, that he wasn't the one burned, that instead he watches you crumble and break and shatter. He had loved you, he had always loved you. That hole in his heart, that void you filled. Ripped from him and torn apart as swiftly as a flower in a stormy ocean. He hardly had the mind to blame you anymore, hardly had the heart to. He could do nothing but blame himself and the cruel creature he could hardly call human. The one who had dared to lay a finger on you. The one he could imagine tearing apart with his bare hands.

There are questions that circle his brain, words that travel from the top of his head and almost meet his tongue. ‘What’s his name?’ ‘Where can I find him?’ ‘How long had this been happening?’ ‘Why hadn't you said something sooner?’

He lets out a shallow breath, his eyes closing in thought for only a short moment before he stands. The sound of the chair startles you into watching him once more. His steps are slow, and deliberate, as they make their way towards you. You lean away for a moment, as you had since you'd gotten here, but it calms as you watch him. His movement is predictable; safe.

And soon, just as slow and just as softly, his hands fall on your face as they had hundreds of times before. Calloused but warm, a softness he only ever found with you. He is gentle along your bruises, careful with them. You can't look from him now, eyes searing through him. But he had nothing to hide, and so he stared back.

“We're gonna figure this out” he speaks to you, words like comforting slashes against your soul in how they tear your emotions from you. Your attempts to hide were all but vain now, tears falling freely and only barely held from a sob. Your breaths shake as your eyes close into the comfort, hands falling onto his as if he might just slip away. He presses a kiss, hesitant yet desperate against the crown of your head.

“He ain't ever hurting you again” his words are a promise as he mumbles them against your skin before placing his head against yours. You make no attempt to pull away, instead finding that a broken smile falls on your lips, one of utter relief. Somehow you find a will to speak.

“I missed you”

Potential part two? Maybe? Probably? Definitely?

#call of duty x reader #john price x reader #gender neutral reader #tw: violence #tw: mentions of depressive and suicidal thoughts #tw: heavily implied domestic abuse #tw: blood #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #john price #john price mw2 #john price mw2 x reader #cod x reader #cod mw3 #captain price #call of duty

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wongyuuu · 6 months

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one more day | two | ljh

pairing: jihoon x f!reader genre: angst word count: 5.3k summary: every day jihoon has to make you fall for him again a/n: this was very much based on fifty first dates, but much more dramatic than the movie. i don't go deep into things (trying not to spoil it (?)), i didn't get technical about it as this was written just for fun. i hope you enjoy it. ↳ part one

He stirred awake, the sunlight touching his face in the most obnoxious way possible. Get new blinds, Jihoon made a mental note. He hated waking up in the morning with the sun blinding him like that. It felt weird and wrong, and he knew that you hated it too. But maybe that was exactly why he was avoiding getting new curtains. Because waking up in someone else's bed was already terrifying enough, doing so in the dark was even worse.

So, even though he hated it, he never brought himself to get new blinds.

For the first time in months, Jihoon felt your arms around his waist, squeezing him for a second before letting go. But you never really pulled your arms away. Instead, you grazed his ribs with your fingernails.

A long time ago, that was how he knew you were waking up. He refused to hold on to hope, to let even a single drop of it run into his bloodstream.

Jihoon loved you, so much. When he said for better or for worse, he meant it with all of his soul. However, no amount of love could make him blind though. At least, not anymore. He spent years thinking that there would come a day when you would just remember them, him and Lola. That one you would just wake up and remember them, or during the day something would trigger you, a memory and you would come back to them.

But this hope, he decided, was in vain.

Your fingers stilled in his ribs and you gasped, sitting up. Jihoon took a deep breath, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

"Shit, shit, shit" you pushed the covers away and stood up, there was a pause and then you said "Jihoon, if this is a joke, it's a great one but I don't have the time right now."

He opened his eyes and sat up too, his heart hammering inside his chest. He looked at you with wide eyes, as you stood next to the bed, hands on your hips as you looked around the room.

For the first time in seven years, when your eyes finally set on him, he saw recognition. You looked confused, yes, but it seemed like you knew who he was. He stood up too and slowly walked to you.

"How did you even do this?" you asked, smiling at him, your hand running through his hair once and then falling on his shoulder, where you squeezed him "This is great, you know? You look great. And even though I'm super curious about how you did all of this, I'm late for class."

He pulled you close to him, one of his arms around your shoulders and the other one around your waist. You let out a giggle, your hand on his hair, running through the tangled strands.

"I really like the long hair, maybe you should consider growing it" you tipped your head slightly, placing a sweet kiss on his neck, and whispered against his skin "I really am late, though."

Jihoon couldn't hold back anymore. His throat was constricted, a lump the size of his fist made it hard for him to breathe, let alone speak.

Finally, after so many years you were back with him. He didn't know how, he didn't know why either.

The past couple of months had been somehow easier, if such a thing was even possible. You no longer felt the need to run to Bella as soon as you woke up. Yes, you still freaked out when you woke up, but once you watched the video you seemed calmer.

Some sort of routine had been made and your days were spent mostly with Jihoon at the shop, and Lola too on the weekends. You had managed to insert yourself even more in your daughter's life and Lola couldn't be happier. Somedays you made Lola breakfast but every single night the two of you watched a movie together, whichever Lola was obsessed with at the moment. The little girl took full advantage of the fact that you didn't remember the movie of the night before, so she just asked to watch it again and again. Somedays you figured out her plan and just laughed it off.

Jihoon wasn't able to hold back his tears anymore and his entire body shook. When was the last time he cried over the situation? He couldn't remember. His best guess was when you first had the accident. After that, he never allowed himself to cry again, not when he had a baby in his arms that needed his full attention, and you were still healing. He had no time to dwell on his own hurt and pain.

"Jihoon?" you pulled away from him, or as much as you could with the way he held onto you "Baby, you're scaring me. What is going on?"

With a little effort, you managed to pull back, holding his face in your hand. He looked entirely distressed, his eyes red and face wet with tears. You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his, then his cheeks. Even though he tried, Jihoon wasn't able to hold back the sob that escaped him.

"I missed you so much" he managed to say, "So much, you have no idea."

Seeing Jihoon in such a distressed state, you just hugged him, not sure what was happening but certain that he needed you. His entire body shook with his quiet sobs and his arms squeezed you almost too tightly.

At that moment, the school and students were the least of your worries.

"Tell me what's wrong, please" you urged him "I can't help you if I don't know what's going on."

You could only hope that your touch was as soothing as you wanted it to be. You had never seen him like that before. Jihoon always took pride in the fact that he almost always managed to keep his cool in situations. But long gone was calm and collected Jihoon.

"I need you to listen to me, okay? Really, truly, listen. Because everything that I'm about to tell you is going to sound insane" he said as dried his tears with the collar of his shirt.

You allowed Jihoon to push you down until you were sitting on the bed and nervously tugged at the hem of your t-shirt. You had no idea how you ended up in that pajama. Your mind told you that the night before you had worn a nightgown to bed, but you wore a simple t-shirt and sweats.

Everything in the room was different as well, every piece of furniture and almost all decorations. The blinds were gone, the sheets were different, new. The room had a light pink tone, that awfully reminded you of the apartment you used to share with Bella back in college — a tone and color that you had grown to hate over the years. The small pile of baby clothes that were supposed to be on the chair close to the door wasn't there, in fact not even the chair was in the room.

"What do you remember from last night? What did we do?" he asked.

Jihoon pushed your hair off your shoulder, and you realized that your hair too was longer than the night before. It didn't go unnoticed as well that he hadn't taken his hands off of you, even for a second. Your hair, face, arm, hand. Jihoon was somehow touching all of you.

"We went on a date last night, our first one since Lola was born" you furrowed your eyebrow at him "We freaked out mid-dinner and went back to pick her up from Mingyu's place, which was probably a reckless idea, but we said yes because Joshua said that we would supervise. We were gone for an hour and a half, at most. Then we came back home"

He nodded, seemingly understanding everything you were saying. Jihoon took a deep breath, his thumbs tracing small circles on your sweaty palms.

You were scared of whatever it was that he wanted to say. Judging by the look on his face it couldn't be anything good.

"We should go check on Lola, right? It's late, she's probably awake already."

Jihoon just shook his head and held you in place.

"Lola is fine, don't worry. I don't even know how to…" he closed his eyes for a second and looked back at you again, his eyes once more filled with tears "That happened years ago. The day after we went on the date, you woke up late for work, your alarm didn't go off. You still made it to school on time, taught your classes, and decided to stay a little longer because you had some tests to grade. On your way home, there was an accident."

Jihoon moved your hand to your head, where he used the tip of his finger to find a scar that started on your hairline. He watched as your face contorted, clearly feeling the scar there but not knowing where it came from.

"A truck hit you from behind and because that day you weren't wearing a seat belt, you flew across the windshield. You were in a coma for five months and when you woke up you had no idea who we were, you only remembered Bella and your parents. To you, you were still in college. A weird joke or not, your last memory was the day before we met."

You wanted to believe that it was a joke, that none of it was actually true. That somehow, he and Jeonghan had managed to pull the perfect joke, from the Jihoon’s hair, to how everything in the room looked wildly different. But you knew the man in front of you, you knew your husband and how he worked. And while Jihoon was someone who occasionally enjoyed a good prank, he was also someone who took things very seriously and, in that moment, — maybe even more than any other since you met him — he was more serious than ever.

His eyes were focused on yours, begging you to believe in him, even if he sounded insane. And Jihoon knew that he did sound like he had completely lost his mind. One just doesn’t wake up one day and just has no memories of the past seven years. However, he never thought that he would have you back, and yet there you were. Yes, sure, you didn’t have all of your memories but the little he had in that second was more than what he had for the past seven years.

“What happened after that?” you asked, hand still on your head, tracing the scar.

As random as it may sound, for a moment your mind went to the thought of being bald. It was a topic of a joke once upon a time, between you and Jihoon. He had promised to love you even if you went bald, out of desire or not. The image of him caressing your hairless head suddenly took over your mind.

“When you woke up, you didn’t have any idea of who I was. You thought that I was a nurse or a doctor, and when I tried to explain to you what was going on, you freaked out on me. Then, we found out that you couldn’t retain memories once you fell asleep” the gasp that left your lips was involuntary, but Jihoon didn’t stop, once he started to talk there was no way for him to stop “The next morning we had the exact same interaction. And the morning after that, and then on the third morning as well. The doctors didn’t know what was wrong. While they said that memory loss was a possibility, they didn’t think that something like that would happen. They did all the tests and exams they could think of, and all of them came back normal. So, all we had left was hope, that one day you would remember us. Me.

“After you were discharged, your parents took you home. We talked and they insisted that being around them, people you remembered was better for your recovery. We, Lola and I, went there every night to have dinner with you. You had no idea who I was but your interactions with Lola were different. Of course, you didn’t remember the night before, but somedays you remembered a child. Your mom said that suddenly you’d say that you dreamed of a baby, a girl. Finally, after six months, I brought you home.”

He smiled at you, as if the memory was a good one, but it was hard to think of it that way. You couldn’t begin to understand what he had gone through.

At the same time that his words were laced with pain, there was also a trace of hope in them. And God, just so much love. It was in the way he held your hands, his fingers tracing the lines on your palms as he had done from the first moment he held your hand, in the way he slowly scooted closer to you, in the way he was attentive to your every move because he knew that his words might be too much.

“How long have I been like this?

“It’s been seven years since the accident.”

Like he did every day, Jihoon pressed his forehead to his bedroom door, listening to his wife watching the video he made long ago.

For years, he imagined what it would feel like when you finally woke up and remembered him. His mind came up with crazy scenarios each time, but the reality of it all was very similar to his everyday routine. Him explaining to you what happened, you watching the video, him going to Lola.

Jihoon thought that the situation would be louder, chaotic in more ways than one. But all of if felt oddly comfortable.

Perhaps he was finally losing his mind.

He knocked lightly on Lola’s door before pushing it open. Your daughter was sitting on her bed, her plush toys all around her. Lola was almost a carbon copy of you, except for her lips and round face, which she got from Jihoon. She looked up at him, a large smile taking over her face, while she pushed her hair away from her eyes.

“Hi princess,” he said.

Most mornings were the same with Lola. Somewhere along the way, without Jihoon ever saying anything, she started to wait for him in her room. I don’t want to scare mommy again, she said one day. She had done what every child does and went into her parents' room in the morning, after waking up, because she just wanted cuddles. But when you saw her, you got scared, thought to your credit you had tried to look calm. Lola had seen enough, and she never walked in again. In the cases she did need to go in, she knocked first and waited for an answer.

“Hi daddy”

Jihoon sat down by her side and Lola was more than happy to climb into his lap. She did love her mornings cuddles.

“Today is going to be a little different” he said in a hushed voice.

Lola propped her head on his chest, her big Bambi like eyes looking up at him. Her eyes were filled with hope and that scared Jihoon more than anything. He didn’t know how long it would last, the memories you seemed to have gotten back. Would it be permanent? Would you remember the day when morning came, or would they restart everything again? Was that one day just a flu or would they have the chance to finally move one and live the life you had planned?

There were way too many questions but no way at all to answer them.

“Different how?” her small fingers gripped his shirt tightly.

“Mommy remembers some things today.”

Jihoon had never seen his daughter’s eyes light up so quickly. She pulled away from him and stood on the bed, her body almost vibrating with excitement.

“She remembers me?”

“She remembers when you were a baby” Jihoon said calmly, trying to hide his smile upon seeing his daughter so bright "She remembers everything until the accident. She’s watching the video right now.”

Lola nodded, almost jumping around.

“Do I have to go to school today?” she asked suddenly, her voice “I want to be with mommy.”

Even if Lola had the most import test in the world, of her entirely life up until that point, Jihoon didn’t have it in him to send her to school, to force to be away from you when you finally remembered her.

“You can skip class today. But only today” he said once she started to jump up down, laughing almost in a frenzy “But we have to take mommy to the doctor, okay?”

She nodded again, the biggest smile on her face and she threw her arms around his neck, swaying from side to side, making Jihoon laugh.

There was a small knock on the door and a second later you pushed it open slightly, just enough to fit your head. Your eyes immediately found Lola and the tears Jihoon knew that you had been holding back since the moment he told you everything, finally fell. Yet, you didn’t look sad, not really.

It was hard for him to have any grasp of what you were thinking. It was an expression that he never seen before on your face. It was an entirely new situation, so of course the emotions would have been different.

In a second, Lola detached herself from Jihoon and ran to you. You merely had enough time to push the door open all the way and kneel down before Lola threw herself at your arms. A small sound left your lips as you closed your eyes, holding tightly onto your daughter.

Talking with Jihoon and watching the video he had made for you, although it gave you an overall grasp of the entire situation, still wasn’t enough to prepare you. Jihoon had been kind enough to show you Lola’s first steps, her first words — that somehow, despite the situation, had been mama — the first time she went to school, pictures with her friends. He had given you all the information he thought you needed from Lola, but it still hadn’t been enough to prepare you for the reality of seeing her in front of you, of holding her in your arms.

In your memory, Lola was still a baby, a very tiny one that you could hold in one arm and still have enough space. You remember being worried that she was too small and taking her to the pediatrician, everyone seemed to agree with you. She’s fine, her weight is good, she’s just little for now, she’ll grow soon.

Back then you wanted to see her grow up faster, to have run running around the house.

All of those precious moments had vanished from your memory. In fact, you were sure that some of them, if not most, you weren’t around to see happening. And yet, somehow, she still loved you.

“Hi mommy” she said against your neck.

“Hi baby”

“I don’t want to go to the doctor” you said to Jihoon, over the mug of coffee “In fact, I don’t want to see anyone who isn’t you or Lola.”

Jihoon crossed his arms, eyebrows raised. He shook his head and patted Lola’s head.

“Go change, we’re leaving soon.”

Lola’s eyes from you to Jihoon, then back to you again. She sighed but still got up from her seat and went up the stairs, slowly.

“A few days ago, you told her not to run on the stairs. So, she’s going as slowly as possible and also maybe because she wants to listen to what we’re saying” he said the last part a little louder, and Lola’s laughed echoed through the hallway.

“You’re so good with her” you said, scooting your chair closer to his.

Jihoon took your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. It had been so long since he had done that without a drop on fear in his body, without thinking that maybe you’d pull your hand away from him.

“We should go” he said quietly, though he knew that it was useless “The doctor will probably want to run some tests, see if something has changed.”

You held Jihoon’s face into your hands, your eyes scanning every single inch of his face, before you pressed your lips to his.

“I don’t know if I’ll remember this tomorrow. I don’t know which version of me you’re getting once I wake up. I don’t want to spend the entire day in a hospital when I could be spending it with you and our daughter. And I know it’s selfish of me, I know. But I just want to be with you two today. I want to learn as much about Lola as possible. I want to remind you that even though I wasn’t really around, I still loved you so much.”

You stood up and pulled Jihoon with you, hugging him as tightly as you possibly could.

“Tomorrow then”

The entire day had been filled with laughter and just so much happiness, the purest kind of it. Instead of going out and having to deal with people, or maybe even seeing someone you knew, you and Jihoon decided that staying in was the best option for the day. You had never thought that there would be so many things to do at home, instead of sleeping or cleaning.

You had always been the kind of person that only saw home as a place you went to rest so you could enjoy the rest of your life, on the world outside.

Lola had been excited since the moment she woke up. She filled you up on everything she thought was important about her life, from her favorite color - purple - to the one time she felt sick during the night and Jihoon had been so worried that he cried. Your husband just shook his head, mouthing no, but his neck was red which meant that he was embarrassed so there probably was some truth to the story. It made angry that you had lost so much of both of them.

The three of you made lunch together, a cake in the afternoon and although the thought of cooking dinner had crossed your minds, you and Jihoon agreed on ordering in. By the end of the day, you were exhausted but you were also filled with a sort of happiness that you had never felt before.

That happiness though, was laced with fear. You were terrified of going to bed, to the point you were holding back leaving the couch. But Lola was already asleep, and Jihoon’s eyes were visibly heavy with sleep.

You kissed your daughter's head and lightly shook Jihoon awake. He looked lost for a second and the smiled at you. He kissed your cheek and stood up, taking Lola into his arms. She nested her head on his neck and wrapped her arms around him. You followed him to her bedroom and watched as he put her bed.

He did it in such a skilled way, like it was easy to balance a child in his arm while making her bed at the same time. He layed Lola down and sat by her side and you followed suit, but sat on the floor. You caressed her hair as she looked at you, blinking away her sleep.

“Do you think you’ll remember me tomorrow?”

It was the first time she had sounded sad, insecure. She had been so bright, her laugher filling the house in such a way that it almost seemed that the house itself was alive with the rest of you. She laughed just like Jihoon, the kind of laugh that made you want to laugh along even if the joke wasn’t that funny to begin with.

“I don’t know, baby” you said honestly “But if I don’t, I want you remember that I love you so so so so much and that everyday I’m trying my best to remember every thing, okay?”

She nodded and closed her eyes again, as you leaned your head on Jihoon thigh. You let the tears run down freely. Just how much had you missed of her life? Of Jihoon’s? Why had he stayed when you couldn’t remember him at all? Just how much must have he suffered just by being on side. And Lola too. You knew that it couldn’t be easy to just live with a mother that didn’t remember you, but it must have been even harder for a child, who wanted to share all of her new discoveries with her mother.

“Let’s go” Jihoon said, tugging on your hand.

Even though you wanted to stay there and just watch her sleep, you allowed Jihoon to pull you away to the bedroom. He moved around with ease, pulling clothes out from the drawers and changing into what he considered to be pijamas.

“Did you still change in front of me?” you asked.

He turned to you, a small smile on his lips as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Are you jealous of yourself right now?” he laughed a little, finally standing in front of you between your legs.

You rolled your eyes at him but wrapped your arms around his middle, pulling his as close to you as you possibly could. His heartbeat was right above your head, but you could still hear it loud and clear, steady as it had always been.

“I don’t want to forget you again” you confessed.

Throughout the entire day you did your best to downplay the entire situation, choosing instead to focus on Lola and Jihoon, on creating memories for them, with them. You forced you mind to think only of the moment that was happening right in front of your eyes, instead of a moment you couldn’t do anything about.

“I don’t want to wake tomorrow having no idea who you are, who our daughter is. And it’s not fair to either of you. I don’t know how you stayed with me for the past seven years, why you didn’t take Lola away and raised her in a normal home. One in which her mother was just gone, instead of whatever the fuck I became” you sobbed into his shirt, gripping the fabric “I don’t want to put you through that again, not even for a day. So, you have to promise me Jihoon. If tomorrow I don’t remember you, you’re going to send me off to my parents and you’re going to raise Lola without me around.”

“I’m not going to do that” Jihoon said very calmly, his tone was cold even.

You pulled away from his and stood up, suddenly needing to move around, even if it was just a step to the left and then one back to right.

“Jihoon, you have to listen to me. This situation is not suited for a child. She has a mother that doesn’t remember her, that has no idea of what she likes or dislikes. Kids need normality growing up, routines. With me around, you can’t give her that, because every day she sees a different woman and none of them is actually her mother” you angrily pushed your tears away.

Your anger came from so many places, but it wasn’t directed at Jihoon or even caused by him. It was only at yourself. For driving in the fucking snow, for not wearing the damn seat belt, for missing years of your daughter’s life, years with Jihoon.

Even if you didn’t forget them by morning, you still wouldn’t be able to get all of those moments back again.

“Let’s say I do that, let’s say I do ship you off to your parents and take Lola away from you. Who does that help, truly? No one, yn” Jihoon put his hand on your shoulder, making you stop, his hands running up from your neck to your cheeks “Lola will still see you as her mother, I’ll still be your husband and both of us will just keep waiting for you to come back to us. The three of us are a family and we will be one until the very last moment, doesn’t matter what happens.”

To say that Jihoon had slept at all, was to lie. He wasn’t able to, even though his eyes were tired, his body was exhausted, his mind wasn’t able to just turn off, even for a moment. He spent the entire night watching you, the rise and fall of your chest as you took each breath.

Jihoon couldn’t help but to be scared of what morning would bring him. Even though he desperately wanted you the remember the day you spent together, he knew, deep down in her heart, that the possibility of that happening was very little. Or least, he thought it was, considering how the past seven years were to the three of you.

Still, there was a part of his mind, this insane part that had always been inadvertently optimistic, that hoped for good news. That wished and longed for a small crack of happiness. Just another day like that one, when he was surrounded by the two people he loved the most in life and was simply happy. In such a pure and innocent way, in a way that he thought it would never happen to him again.

It was unfair, he knew, to think that during those seven years there hadn’t been moments of happiness. Because there were, but never quite like that. It was different to have happy moments with someone who saw him as a stranger. And when you looked at him and knew who he was, who Lola was, that happiness was just bigger.

Of course, Jihoon had seen the sadness in your eyes in a few moments. You’d just watch Lola passionately talk about her friends at school and just look so sad, because you had no idea who those kids were. Jihoon knew what was running through your mind in that moment. Any decent mother would know her child’s friend. And he hated that look.

He didn’t need to dig to know that you blamed yourself for the accident. It would be a lie to say that for some time he didn’t feel somewhat of a similar feeling. If you had just worn the goddamn seat belt, all of that pain could have been avoided and the life you had dreamed would have come true. Jihoon would have made sure of that.

But in the end, an accident was just that, an accident. The man in the truck that hit you had been taken to the same hospital. The had a heart attack, it wasn’t something that he could have controlled.

Jihoon had cried and then he was forced to move on.

And now he was forced, yet again, to just accept a different reality. Maybe the woman who hugged him so tightly in her sleep would come back to him, or maybe he would have yet another version of you.

Whichever he got, he didn’t matter. He would love you regardless.

It was already past five when Jihoon managed to close his eyes for more than a few minutes. Finally, his mind had decided to just give him a couple of hours of much needed rest.

When he woke up, he was facing the sealing of your shared bedroom, your arms still around him, your leg tangled with his. He could hear your deep breaths. Slowly, as to not wake you, Jihoon turned on his side. A strand of hair covered your face, your lips slightly open. He took the time to look at you, his beautiful wife.

He felt you tap your fingers on his ribs, first the tips then the nails.

Jihoon took a deep breath.

That was it, you were waking up and soon his life could take a whole new turn or just go back to what it usually was.

Your eyes fluttered open.

“Good morning, husband”

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wambsgansshoelaces · 2 months

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hi, i think u did a similar one already but could i get a hc on how succession characters react to their s/o crying? about feeling sad , or stressed , or losing a loved one , idk , just something mildly serious. i wasn't feeling great today and i started crying and my sister told me to stop crying and was like mean af to me and i could use some gentleness and affection :|

aw anon im so sorry :( I know I’m really late with this but I hope you’re doing much better <3 I’m always here for you in my ask box or pms!! your sister is an asshole you can cry whenever you want all of your emotions are valid and I love u u are so worthy

I hope these make you feel happy <3 enjoy x

serious issues (succession main cast)

Kendall

ᝰ when he notices your mood is off, he immediately goes solemn

ᝰ while if it were something smaller, he’d leave it and let you come up and talk to him on your own

ᝰ but he can tell it’s bad

ᝰ and he’s not going to let you stew in this by yourself

ᝰ he will help you

ᝰ whether you want him to or not

ᝰ he gets you a glass of water

ᝰ and forces you to drink

ᝰ then sits you down and makes you tell him what’s wrong

ᝰ when you do

ᝰ rather, when you burst into tears in his arms

ᝰ he can’t help but feel horrible

ᝰ he cradles your face in his hands and kisses away your tears

ᝰ he apologizes over and over

ᝰ he’s rubbing your back the entire time you tell him what’s going on

ᝰ “cry it all out. i’m right here.”

ᝰ he talks you through it

ᝰ he’s cosplaying his therapist

ᝰ if it was a death, he gets the name of where the service will be held and pays for it in secret

ᝰ over the next few weeks, you can just show up in his office and cry on his shoulder

ᝰ and he won’t ask any questions

ᝰ he always lets you

ᝰ the night you tell him, he keeps an arm hooked around you, keeping your head to his chest

ᝰ he plays with your hair and strokes soothing patterns into your skin for the rest of the night

ᝰ as you recover emotionally, he makes sure to check in on you

ᝰ even long after the incident, you both make sure that you have no bullshit check ins with each other

ᝰ “how are you really”s

ᝰ he makes it clear to you that he will always support you

ᝰ and you’re glad

Roman

ᝰ not really the best with words

ᝰ or emotions

ᝰ or being serious

ᝰ however

ᝰ the only time(s) he is 100% serious is when you’re severely upset

ᝰ the first time it happens, it’s like he stops breathing

ᝰ “hey, come here. something’s wrong. i need to know what.”

ᝰ you tell him

ᝰ it’s the hardest you’ve ever cried

ᝰ the entire time, he grips your hand, gently stroking the back of it with his fingers

ᝰ he’s never been more focused on anything in his life

ᝰ he wishes he could help talk you through it, but he’s physically incapable

ᝰ so what he does is murmur a few comforting words then take you out on a boat ride

ᝰ because of course he has a miniature yacht on call

ᝰ “you can relax, take your mind off everything. i’ll take care of things, don’t worry.”

ᝰ the rest of the day is spent the two of you cuddled together, looking out over the water

ᝰ he doesn’t say anything

ᝰ he feels bad because he doesn’t know how to help you sort through your emotions

ᝰ because god knows he can’t

ᝰ so instead, he spends every waking moment with you, at your beck and call

ᝰ regardless, he’d do anything for you

ᝰ incident or not

ᝰ he listens to you when you talk, of course

ᝰ he just can’t give you any sound advice

ᝰ the nights on the boat, when you’re at your most vulnerable, he makes sure you fall asleep before he does

ᝰ so that he can kiss you to sleep

ᝰ and make sure you fall asleep soundly, feeling safe

ᝰ he’ll never be happy unless you’re happy

Shiv

ᝰ she notices something’s wrong, but doesn’t say anything at first

ᝰ when you don’t come to her at all and instead stay holed up in your room, that’s when she knows something is really wrong

ᝰ she crawls up onto the bed with you, and you feel her hands smooth up your back

ᝰ “what’s wrong? tell me.”

ᝰ does not leave you alone until you do

ᝰ listens intently

ᝰ literally memorizes what you’re saying so that she can help fix things

ᝰ the entire time you’re speaking, she massages at your skin to soothe you

ᝰ and it works

ᝰ thumbs away your tears when they fall

ᝰ she refuses to let you go through this alone

ᝰ she helps talk through your issues

ᝰ nonstop reassuring you that everything you’re feeling is perfectly valid

ᝰ and telling you that if you’re upset, she’s upset

ᝰ and that she’ll stop at nothing to make you happy again

ᝰ in all honesty, she’s extremely inexperienced with cooking and baking

ᝰ but she figures it out just for you

ᝰ she makes you a fudge with strawberries and raspberries frozen into it

ᝰ and it’s surprisingly really good

ᝰ your tears ease as the two of you eat together in bed

ᝰ you’re still sniffling when she gently urges you to lay your head in her lap

ᝰ even when you’re this upset, she’s utterly mesmerized by you

ᝰ your lips when you chew, your cheeks, the plush of your thighs as your pajama shorts hike up your legs

ᝰ “i know it’s hard, babe. i’m here. i’m not leaving.”

ᝰ and she doesn’t

ᝰ she’s at your side for the rest of both your lives

ᝰ she holds your hand through all of your difficulties

ᝰ she always listens, always helps you with your issues

ᝰ she’ll never, ever, let you suffer on your own

ᝰ she wishes she could take your pain from you

ᝰ you’re her sun and moon

Tom

ᝰ the personification of a massive teddy bear

ᝰ when you’re upset, he’s in SHAMBLES

ᝰ he swears he can feel your pain

ᝰ he soothes you every way he knows how

ᝰ he keeps you close, rubbing his hands up and down your sides

ᝰ he makes you your favorite meals

ᝰ refuses to let you do any chores

ᝰif it was a death, he organizes these massive baskets to be delivered to everyone affected

ᝰ and the biggest one goes to you

ᝰ it has all of your favorite sweets, a bouquet of beautiful flowers, a blanket

ᝰ and a love letter detailing how you’re the strongest person he knows

ᝰ and that he loves you more than anything

ᝰ of course, he gives you space if you ask for it

ᝰ but he’s always concerned for you anyway

ᝰ he gives you your time to recover while slowly helping you along

ᝰ after a couple weeks of leaving you be and taking care of you at home, he starts making you go out with him

ᝰ “we’re getting you used to things again.”

ᝰ he stays at your side through all of it

ᝰ will always let you vent to him

ᝰ and always does his best to give you advice and help you through your issues

ᝰ every night is spent the two of you chatting about your days

ᝰ making sure the other is really okay

ᝰ his arms are always warm

ᝰ your bed even more so

ᝰ he always makes sure you’re feeling warm and fuzzy

ᝰ he just loves you so much

ᝰ he’ll never let you go cold

Greg

ᝰ when you start freaking out, he also starts freaking out

ᝰ but he gets himself together

ᝰ because you’re a big deal to him

ᝰ and he loves you

ᝰ so he’ll do everything he can to help you

ᝰ in his own way, of course

ᝰ he honestly sucks at talking you through things

ᝰ but he listens to you

ᝰ he loves listening to you

ᝰ after you tell him what’s going on, he pulls you into his arms

ᝰ he just hugs you for a while

ᝰ he doesn’t let go until you do

ᝰ and you only do that to go to the bathroom

ᝰ when you come back, he has a favorite movie of yours pulled up on the tv

ᝰ “why don’t we watch? I think you could use the brain break. relaxing is good for you.”

ᝰ he keeps you pulled tight against him

ᝰ softly stroking your hair, your neck, your shoulder

ᝰ he’s just hoping your mood is shifting

ᝰ which it is

ᝰ he’s not the best with words

ᝰ and he’s not exactly sure if what he’s doing is helping

ᝰ but bottom line, you know he cares

ᝰ and he wants to help, needs to help you

ᝰ he spends the next few days doing his best to make you feel loved

ᝰ he makes you lunch to take with you to work

ᝰ he makes sure your favorite snacks are always stocked in the pantry

ᝰ always asks things along the lines of “do you want coffee? iced tea? I’ll make anything for you” even though he doesn’t know how to cook or bake anything

ᝰ but he figures it out

ᝰ because the only thing that makes him happy is you

ᝰ and he’ll fucking die if he sees you crying again and he can’t help you

ᝰ his world revolves around you

ᝰ and he loves it that way

Stewy

ᝰ honestly, you being so viscerally upset puts him off

ᝰ his world falls off balance

ᝰ demands you tell him everything

ᝰ keeps your face sandwiched between his hands as you talk

ᝰ his eyes never leave yours

ᝰ he nods, makes soothing noises

ᝰ “okay, here’s what we’ll do. we’re going to go have fun tonight.”

ᝰ he takes you out for dinner

ᝰ the entire night he’s just like eyeing you trying to see if you’re still upset

ᝰ in reality, he’s just a smooth talker

ᝰ he has no idea how to actually get serious

ᝰ so now his efforts are put into making you feel better

ᝰ when you pick at your food, he takes your hand

ᝰ and tries to be profound

ᝰ “I know I kind of suck at this whole handling things seriously thing, but I want you to know I’ll listen to anything- everything you have to say. I don’t… you’re not going through this alone, is what I’m trying to tell you.”

ᝰ it comes out really messy

ᝰ but it’s obvious he cares

ᝰ it’s obvious he loves you

ᝰ and that in of itself makes you feel leagues better

ᝰ you decide to walk off your dinner

ᝰ you both take a stroll, hand in hand, through the streets

ᝰ the night chill is strangely calming

ᝰ but you know that’s just stewy, not actually the chill that’s making you feel at ease

ᝰ “we can try stargazing tonight.”

ᝰ “stew, all I can see when I look up is smoke.”

ᝰ because you literally live in new york

ᝰ where rats live everywhere rent free

ᝰ “we’ll just have to drive out somewhere, then.”

ᝰ he actually does

ᝰ the two of you end up in a bit of a rural area sitting in the trunk of his car

ᝰ he spread out blankets and brought pillows and everything

ᝰ he even stopped at a gas station to get you both slushees

ᝰ in the gas station you both mixed flavors

ᝰ and he keeps stealing from you

ᝰ but it’s okay

ᝰ you’re leaning against him, his fingers are in your hair

ᝰ “I’m sorry I couldn’t help more.”

ᝰ “you’re helping me lots.”

ᝰ you give him a kiss

ᝰ “your lips are all blue, stewy.”

ᝰ “the blue raspberry is just really good…”

ᝰ you turn back to the stars

ᝰ but his eyes aren’t even on the stars anymore

ᝰ they’re on you

ᝰ and if he had it his way, they’d never leave you again

#succession headcanons #kendall roy #kendall roy x reader #roman roy #roman roy x reader #siobhan roy #siobhan roy x reader #tom wambsgans #tom wambsgans x reader #gregory hirsch #gregory hirsch x reader #stewy hosseini #stewy hosseini x reader #succession #succession hbo #succession x reader #anon ask #wambsgansshoelaces

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hearts4hughes · 1 year

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Hi! I love your writing….Can I please get #7. “you don’t have to like me, you just need to pretend you do.” With Quinn Hughes??

fake dating - quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, nothing else :)

notes: this took way too long for me to write. it’s lightly proofread because i have no motivation to fully proofread it. i was really proud of this imagine towards the beginning, but i feel like it’s just really rushed at the end. let me know how it is!

gif is not mine

it wasn’t a secret that you and quinn hughes didn’t get along. it was quiet obvious to anyone who was in the same room as you two for even a few seconds.

with your mom being best friends with ellen- quinn’s mother- you spent most your time with the hughes family. this wasn’t something that bothered you. after meeting luke and jack, you immediately clicked. they were both like little brothers / best friends to you. however, you couldn’t say the same for the eldest hughes brother.

you weren’t sure what you did to annoy or upset quinn, but you do know the first time meeting him, he grew a deep disliking to you. most of your memories with quinn consisted of excessive teasing. for example, one of your favorite things to do at the hughes’ lake house was to tan. quinn quickly ruined that however after dumping a bucket of ice cold water on you while you tanned outside.

years, and years passed, and quinn’s disliking to you only grew deeper. he didn’t even tease you anymore, he just stopped paying attention to you in all. you didn’t know why it upset you so much, but it did. you’d spent countless nights crying yourself to sleep over an asshole who literally didn’t even acknowledge your existence.

quinn didn’t quite understand why he did this to you. the first time he saw you, he’d felt feelings he never had before. you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. but quinn hughes didn’t show any emotion. he was a closed book. so, his only way to avoid confrontation with his emotions was so teach himself to hate you. thus where the hatred started.

even this wasn’t enough for quinn, though. he thought if he insulted and teased you enough, he’d make himself believe the things he’d been saying to you were actually true. but it only made him fall in love with you more. he’d spend countless nights obsessing over you, wondering what type of spell you put on him that made him feel this way.

quinn knew what he had to do. he had to just make himself forget everything about you. which after further examination was impossible- without some sort of head trauma. therefore, his only other option was to completely ignore you. the less he’d engaged with you, the less he’d like you.

what confused you now was the fact that quinn hughes- the same quinn hughes who was your sworn enemy- was laying sprawled out across your bed, begging you to be his date to a party his family was throwing.

“is this some sort of prank?” you ask dumbfound.

“i really wish it was.” he huffs out. “but it’s not.”

were you in some alternate universe or something?

“ok,” you ask in disbelief. “explain what you want me to do again, please?”

“oh my fucking god.” he groans, shaking his body dramatically. “i need you to act like my girlfriend so my family can stop bugging me about bringing someone to this stupid party.”

“i just don’t understand it.” you laugh out sarcastically.

“what don’t you understand?” he runs this hands through his hair in frustration. “you don’t have to have to like me. you just need to pretend you do.”

“why you wouldn’t just ask anyone else is what i don’t understand.” you throw your hands up as if it wasn’t obvious. “i mean you, quinn hughes, could get anyone to gladly go to that event with you. i mean girls would beg, and beg to fake being your girlfriend… and you choose me? someone who would rather stab her eyeballs out than be seen with you.”

“first off, you are such a liar. it’s a privilege to be seen with me.” he starts off smug and cocky as ever. “second, yeah i think i know anyone else would gladly go with me. when i told jack he had like ten girls that were fighting to go with me.”

“and this is relevant because?” you say in an annoyed tone.

was he trying to make you jealous?

honestly, quinn himself didn’t know the answer to that one, but if he was, it was definitely working.

“listen, y/n.” he sits up on your bed. “i know you. our families have been best friends since forever. you are close with my mom, dad, jack, and luke. my entire family.” he counts on his fingers to get his point across. “what i’m trying to say is my family loves you. if i come there with some random girl, i’m going to have to go through the grueling process of introducing her to everyone and all that shit. with you i don’t have to do that.”

you take a moment to actual consider doing this for him. “what’s in it for me?”

“both our families won’t try to make us like each other anymore.” he reasons.

“fine.” your voice is barely above a whisper as you respond. the second quinn hears your response, he’s jumping with joy. a toothy grin takes over his face as he’s yelling out ‘thank you’s’ and other endearments.

“calm down over there.” a big smile takes over your face as you witness a side of quinn you’ve never seen before.

“sorry,” his cheeks flush red. “i’ll pick you up around 5pm tomorrow because it takes an hour to get there and it starts around 6.”

“i can’t believe i’m saying this,” you shake your head, looking up at the sky. “but, alright.”

quinn bids one last farewell and thank you before exiting your apartment.

5pm the next day roles around a lot quicker than you expected. your currently sitting in front of your vanity mirror. while fixing your lipstick, you hear a knock on your door. nervously, you put the small plastic tube of lipstick down and walk towards the door.

on the other side of the door awaits a nervous and eager quinn. he wipes his palms on his black dress pants, nervous how he’s going to react when he sees you.

you’d think from the amount of times quinn has seen you dressed up, he’d get used to it. but he never did. every time he sees you in a small, tight, fancy dress, his palms start to sweat and he can barely form a coherent sentence. of course you two never talked enough for you to actually notice your affect on him.

opening the door slowly, quinn comes into your view. he looks amazing. he’s wearing his signature black suit- not caring enough to buy a new one- and his hair is slightly messy. you could barely say the words ‘come in’, shocked at his gorgeous appearance.

quinn’s reaction wasn’t much different. the second you opened the door, his eyes landed on the navy blue mini-dress that dangerously hugged your curves. his throat went dry as he scanned up and down your body. the dress showed just a little bit of cleavage, not enough to be over the top, but just enough to make quinn want to pant like a dog. the material stopped at your mid thigh, exposing your whole leg. god, quinn was practically drooling just seeing this shade of blue on you.

“uh, come in.” you blink a few times, bringing yourself back to reality.

quinn shallows nervously, biting the inside of his cheek and nodding.

“i’m just finishing up my makeup, but i won’t take to long.” you awkwardly smile.

in response, quinn mumbles a quiet ‘ok’ and just nods his head. he was never much of a talker, so you just brushed it off as post party nerves.

with you exiting the room, quinn is left alone in your living room. he slowly wanders around the room, letting his fingertips brush against your fabric couch. different photos that decorated the walls and tables of your apartment catch his eye. he smiles to himself as he picks up a photo of you and emily- your best friend. you must’ve been around 13 or 14 because you and emily both wear the goofiest smile, showing off your different color braces. he lets out a small chuckle. even in your awkward teen phase, quinn was still head over heels for you.

placing down the small frame, he moves onto a different photo. you’re older in this photo. he guesses around 17 to 18. it also appears to be prom night. standing in the middle of a large group of friends, you beam with happiness. quinn vividly remembers this night. something that seemed to slip his memory was the boy standing a little too close to you. his jaw began to clench at the photo in front of him. the blonde boy’s hands were wrapped around your body. your face was flushed as you leaned back against the tall boy’s frame. it’s honestly surprising quinn didn’t whip the framed photo across the room in a jealousy rage.

“quinn?” you call out from behind him.

he quickly places the photo down, turning around to face you.

“are you ready?” he asks, pushing the jealous thoughts in the back of his head.

you noticed his sudden tense figure, confused at what he had just seen, but you just nodded.

leaving your apartment, quinn runs up to the car, opening the passenger door. he wasn’t really sure why he did it, but he made a mental note to do it more because it made you smile.

the car ride over was short. you both took the time to make a believable story for how you and quinn went from enemies to lovers miraculously. the story you agreed on was that you both realized that you never hated each other. you were both actually in love, but didn’t want to admit it. that story hit a little too close to home for both of you.

arriving at the hughes’ lake house, the nerves were really starting to set in. once again, quinn ran around the car, opening the passenger door for you and helping you out. the little subconscious movement gave you butterflies in your stomach and a familiar pink blush to your cheeks.

the walk up to the house seemed like forever. neither of you were in a rush to walk into the party. walking up the brick steps, quinn slips his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze and finally opening the door.

as you and quinn walk hand in hand to the party, everyone’s attention seems to be shifted over to you. you both get sent confused looks and a whole lot of furrowed brows, but quinn pushes through the crowd ignoring them. quinn notices jack, luke, ellen, and jim all standing together and makes his way over to them.

“hey!” you awkwardly yell out.

first, it’s ellen and jim. they’re expressions fall a bit, shocked by the scene in front of them, but they’re quick to pick them back up.

then, it’s jack and luke. jack doesn’t even seem phased as he goes in to dap up his older brother. same with luke. he just stands there with a drink in hand, smirking.

“hi sweetie!” ellen greets us, coming in to give you a tight hug. “i’m glad you could both make it.”

“we’d never miss a hughes’ party!” you beam.

“well i’m glad you two could both come, but i must say i’m a bit surprised to see you here together.” jim is the next to speak up. he mirrors ellen’s greeting by bringing me in a hug.

“yeah, we are too.” quinn blushes, looking at your proudly. the look he gives you could’ve made you faint right there and then, but you keep composure.

the rest of the night consisted of a lot of explaining. a lot of explaining. almost everyone there was confused as of how this happened based on your history, but you and quinn sold the story of your ‘relationship’.

as quinn pulls into the parking lot of your apartment complex, you don’t want to night to end. being this close to quinn tonight really healed your inner child. you got to be with him romantically for two hours. it definitely was enough to make you forget about the past heartbreak he’s caused you.

“quinn,” you say softly.

“yes, love?” his use of the pet name sends adrenaline through your veins.

“what are we going to tell everyone tomorrow?”

the question had been the elephant in the room the entire night. you both had been avoiding it. not wanting this daydream to end.

“i guess that we broke up.” he answers unsurely, rubbing the back of his neck.

“oh, ok.” you mumble. “thank you for tonight. i had fun.”

“thank you for pretending to like me for tonight.” he says, nervously laughing. you fake a little chuckle, knowing what he said isn’t totally accurate.

silence fills the car as you two admire each other. your body is turned towards quinn as his hands rest on the steering wheel.

“i wasn’t pretending.” your words are barely above a whisper, not really intending for quinn to hear, but he does.

“what?” he asks, unsure if he heard you correctly. his mouth is hanging slightly open and his eyes are wide.

“i wasn’t pretending to like you, quinn.” you respond once again. this time you are more confident in your words.

hearing the words again makes quinn fall back in his seat. he looks up to the ceiling of the car in disbelief. ‘was this some prank?’ was all he could think because it didn’t seem real that the girl he’s been in love with since he was a kid was telling him that she liked him back.

“are you serious?” he asks a little harsher than he means to. his tone of voice startles you, causing tears to swell in your eyes.

“um,” you try to hold back the sobs, but once the tears begin to fall, the sobs spill out not long after.

you couldn’t believe you let your guard down like that. he might’ve been acting nice, but he’s still quinn hughes. once an asshole, always an asshole.

“oh no, baby.” quinn coos, wrapping his arms around you. “don’t cry. i didn’t mean it like that.”

“then what did you fucking mean it like?!” you cry out, looking at him through tears.

“i- uh,” he can’t find the words he wants to say.

“save it. i don’t want to hear your excuse.” you mutter. you pull yourself out of his hold, throwing the car door open and stepping out.

the second you exit the car, droplets of rain hit your body, but you don’t care. you storm towards your apartment building, despite hearing the car door shut.

“y/n!” quinn calls out, grabbing your wrist and causing you to spin around suddenly.

“leave me alone.” you growl. your face is painted with aggressive features. your jaw is clenched, eyes dark, and you’re sending quinn a glare that could burn holes in his head.

“just listen to me!” his voice drips of desperation as he practically begs.

you don’t respond, allowing him to continue.

“i really, really like you.” he starts off. “i’m not good with expressing my feelings as you can tell, but i’ve liked you since we met.”

“stop lying to make me feel better. you hated me when we met.” you blurt out, not buying what he was giving you.

“i didn’t, thought! i only acted like i hated you because i didn’t know how to confront the fact that i was in love with you.”

your gaze softens at his confession, still staying silent, allowing him to further continue. you both ignore the rain pelleting against your skin.

“dammit, y/n, i’m totally whipped over you. haven’t you seen that?” he moved his grip from your wrist, to your hand- holding it tightly.

“no,” you whisper.

“your just so gorgeous it’s not fair, and i’ve never felt that way about anyone else. i mean look at you in this dress right now. you are absolutely stunning inside and out. how was i not supposed to fall in love with you?”

“quinn,” you interrupt him. “kiss me.”

he doesn’t waste anytime, smashing his lips against yours. the kiss is filled with passion and pent up frustration. your fingers tangle in his wet hair while his hands find your waist.

breathless, you pull away from the kiss. the rains starts to come down a little harder, ruining your dress clothes, but neither of you seem too fazed.

“you don’t know how long i’ve waited to do that for.” he admits, smiling cheekily.

“you don’t know either.” you attempt to bite back a wide grin, but you fail miserably.

looking up at the sky, and then your soaking wet clothes, quinn laughs.

“we really just had a hallmark movie type moment.” he jokes, wrapping his arms around you.

“i guess so.” you giggled, leaning into quinn’s hold. “let’s go inside.”

#hearts4hughes #nhl imagine #hockey blurb #hockey imagines #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagines #nora's writings 💐

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serafilms · 3 months

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song 17! cupid (fifty fifty) + tim drake (spotify wrapped event)

i’m feeling lonely, oh i wish i’d find a lover that could hold me, now i’m crying in my room, so skeptical of love, but still i want it more, more, more

You’ve reached a certain point where you think you’re going to die alone. Call it the overwhelming anxiety, paranoia, being surrounded by happy couples syndrome, or whatever you want, but none of it excuses the fact that in all your years of life, hardly anyone has even glanced your way.

Perhaps you’re just blind to their stares, like how pigeons can only see out the sides of their heads, but never what’s sitting right in front of them.

“Or maybe I’m just a loser,” you mutter under your breath.

You slam your book shut, having spent the last 10 minutes reading and rereading the same line without absorbing it, as your mind was preoccupied with wallowing in your misery.

Distractions are no help. There is quite literally nothing for you to do now except lie down and accept your fate. And maybe get some sleep.

Standing from your desk, you look around and take a moment to open the window.

Cold, fresh air.

Then, you take a step towards your bed and collapse face first into the pillow, letting out an agonising groan that comes out muffled.

“Wow, that doesn’t sound good.”

The first reaction you have upon hearing the voice is to scramble up and promptly fall on the floor. Rubbing your bruised tailbone, you stare incredulously at the open window, where there is a guy dressed up in a weird, red getup with a cape and a mask over his eyes.

“Red Robin?”

He grins at you as he slips through the window and looks around your room, wasting no time in going to your shelf to snoop through your things.

“That’s me," Red Robin replies, tilting his head at a picture frame. You leap out of bed at record speed to snatch it out of his hands.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Clutching it protectively to your chest, you shoot him an incredulous look then glance down at the picture. It's one of you and your friend, Tim, at your high school graduation. You set it down on your bedside table quickly, and cross your arms as you turn to glare at the vigilante in your room.

"What are you doing here?"

He glances away from your shelf for a moment, taking in the way that you've awkwardly shuffled to the edge of your bed away from him, then shrugs. "Just stopping by for a visit."

Brows knitting together, you frown. "Okay, let me rephrase. Why are you in my room?"

Red Robin pauses, his eyes flitting towards the picture frame you've set aside.

It's been silent for a little too long now, so you speak up again. "Like, is this some kind of interrogation? Because I swear, whatever crime you think I'm involved in, I don't know anything about it. Unless it's about my chem prof cooking meth. But even then! All I know is rumours!"

He looks at you, amused, and you feel fear building up in your stomach. Is this some sort of technique? You did see a video about how the best way to get someone to tell you a secret is to stay silent and wait for them to spill. You suppose you've just given him exactly what he wants.

Red Robin takes a step towards you and you stumble back into your bedside table.

"This isn't an interrogation," he chuckles, "I'm just checking in.”

Why would he check in on you, of all the people in Gotham?

You sniff. “I’m perfectly fine.”

You can’t see his eyes or eyebrows under the mask, but you assume they’re raised in skepticism.

“I heard you groaning from outside, you know.”

Dead silence. Your neck heats up.

“Oh, right … that …”

The vigilante says nothing; he just watches as you dart your eyes around the room, looking at anything but him.

You feel the need to say more and fill the silence. “Yeah, uh, I was just … having a moment.” He stares at you. “Loneliness. Relationship troubles.”

Damn it, now he’s using that tactic on you.

Red Robin clears his throat. “Ah, I see.”

Do your eyes deceive you or is he blushing?

“Yeah, that’s a tough one. Um.” He starts to back up a little, eyes flitting between you and the space behind you. “Well, you know, it’ll get better. You’ll find someone. Uh, I should probably get back to patrol.”

The vibe just got really weird, you think.

You watch in confusion as he takes tiny steps backward towards the window. He tosses a red business card towards you that lands somewhere halfway in between. “Well, shoot me a text later and I’ll try and help with that. It’s my duty as a hero, you know, haha.”

You blink. “Okay?”

He’s halfway out the window when he looks back and clears his throat. “Sometimes, the right person might be right under your nose. Or behind you.” He gestures vaguely behind you and makes a quick exit.

You’re not quite able to process what just happened. Behind you? Turning around, your eyes focus on the picture. The one of you and Tim. You frown. The right person. What was he on about?

You place the picture down and snatch up the business card instead. There’s a picture of his symbol in the centre, and a mobile number on the back. Maybe you’d have to text him and ask.

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daytaker · 3 months

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NightBringer Satan is a Gift.

I understand everyone has their own opinions on how good/not good NB is as a game or a story or whatever, but in my opinion, Satan's characterization is soooo enhanced by it. I know that this isn't an opinion that everyone shares, but to me, Satan felt emotionally artificial sometimes in the original game (more on that below).* He felt kind of awkward and like he wanted to connect with MC but something was blocking the kind of connection they develop with some of the other brothers. (Disclaimer: I've only done season 1 of OG, so I can't speak to how he's characterized later on. I know, I know, shame. But I'm trying my best.) Getting to see what Satan is like when he doesn't have any control over his emotions makes the stiffness and artificiality make more sense to me, and they become admirable because we get to see just how hard it is for him to get everything under control.

I think they did a really good job with the pacing of his development in NB too. Satan in Lesson 1 and Satan in Lesson 19 are different, but there isn't a moment where he suddenly starts controlling his emotions better. I think there's a lot going on behind the scenes with him as far as his emotional growth and self control are concerned.

Also let's not forget some very important things about Satan that make him, IMO, one of the most interesting characters to work with as a writer:

Satan was never an angel; he had no fall from grace.

Satan was created from Lucifer's wrath---he is literally the product of trauma and self-mutilation.

Satan is significantly younger than his brothers.

He spent the first year of his life more or less trapped in a castle with his deeply emotionally wounded brothers.

He has a deep resentment towards Lucifer that sometimes defies reason---he wishes he didn't dedicate so much of his time and energy to him, but it's basically a compulsion.

He hates his deep association with Lucifer, and he hates that he has a lot in common with him.

And these lead me to some headcanons that live rent-free in my brain every day of my life.

Satan sees himself as a reminder of the Great Celestial War and everything his brothers lost in it, including Lilith.

He is divine retribution against Lucifer for his failure, for leading his brothers to failure, for letting his sister die.

He acts as a counterbalance to Lucifer's pride by bearing the weight of the shame that Lucifer can't fully accept now that he is the Avatar of Pride. Even if Lucifer pushes it out of his mind, Satan never forgets that he failed in the worst way possible.

His biggest aspiration is to become a full and complete person outside of any association he has with Lucifer. He feels like some sort of parasitic tumor that exists only in opposition to his brother, and he wants desperately to escape that role that he feels he was born into.

Anyway, Satan is great, hail Satan, all that good stuff. Did you know I have a lot of thoughts and opinions about Satan? I know, shocking. For more of my takes here's my fic about him (on AO3).

*I think Satan almost metaphorically represents certain elements of autism---emotions that don't come out the way you intend, masking and its limitations, hyperfixations that are barely under control. In Fandom Discourse(TM) there's sometimes a level of focus on more 'cutesy' autistic traits that we find endearing in characters, like social obliviousness and gleefully indulged hyperfixations. But emotional control, emotional masking, emotional seepage, emotional artificiality---these are also real and messy and often times they aren't cute and they're uncomfortable to see in yourself or in someone else. I really don't like diagnosing characters so I'm not about to claim Satan "is" autistic, but as someone who has been called essentially 'spectrum adjacent' by doctors, I relate to the awkwardness and the desire to appear normal despite knowing you're not and emotions spilling out in ugly ways---um. That got really long and personal.

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lord-squiggletits · 9 months

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IDW Megatron and Optimus weren't friends before the war. Here's why that makes their ship dynamic more interesting.

One comment I've heard among people comparing IDW1 MegOP to other continuities of MegOP is (paraphrased) that since they weren't friends before the war, there isn't as much material to ship them with/they don't have an established dynamic/they don't have ~*history*~ that makes them be the bitter exes we all know and love them to be.

In this meta post, I'm going to contend that the IDW1 MegOP lack of friendship before the war is actually a benefit to their dynamic in this continuity, not a negative. Although they didn't get a lot of time together before the war in terms of quantity, the quality of their interactions and the weight it gave their future rivalry is due to the tragic nature of their relationship: They saw a glimpse of each other at their best in their youth, but like a tragic myth of old, circumstances conspired to keep them apart, traumatize them, and turn them into people who couldn't trust or reconcile with each other.

The IDW MegOP's first meeting is like a fated encounter, almost as if it was destined to happen. The way that one single brush can change the entire course of history.

I like to call this a "love at first sight" moment because, although they're not in love, it has this sort of storybook magical quality to it where this one single moment has a lot of weight. This one moment where they saw each other at their best and could have a positive interaction.

When I say that they met each other "at their best" here, I'm referring to Megatron's pacifistic essays and poetry that represent his pure revolutionary spirit and care for Cybertron, and Orion's trait of showing kindness and encouraging individual freedom despite his position of authority. The way that their first encounter was so brief and unassuming makes us, the readers, yearn for more. Doesn't Megatron's silent glance behind him in that final panel make you wonder what he's thinking? They only had that one brief talk at the rodion police station but it went on to ricohet the rest of their lives. Orion started thinking about the corruption of the system due to Megatron's writing. Megatron looked back at Orion with curiosity/lingering feeling after he was escorted out of the station. Even Megatron being put on Messatine was indirectly due to Orion, since Orion delivered that speech on his behalf.

It's almost like literal chemistry, where two particles bumping into each other once can cause a chain reaction of other particles bumping and bumping and bumping until suddenly those two particles are back together.

It's a sort of magical real life scenario where you meet a stranger just once but something they did or said to you makes you remember it and think about it for a long time afterwards. except in this case the MegOPs are (un?)lucky enough to meet again. And they start a war.

I also really like that Megatron and Orion/Optimus spent most of their pre-war backstory apart from each other, because I feel like it makes them stronger characters individually instead of making all of their most important moments be about each other. This is more of a comment on fandom than canon, but many romantic stories fall into a pitfall of a relationship where the two people obsessed with each other: their romance is the most important relationship they have; the entire plot revolves around whether they're happy or upset with each other, it can even make their relationship seem unhealthy and like they have no meaningful relationships outside of their romance. In terms of MOP in other continuities, I feel that putting too much emphasis on their friendship kind of cheapens the worldbuilding and political conflict. True, it's nice when the personal and political intersect in the MegOP's lives, but sometimes I feel (especially in fanon) that the "they were friends but then they disagreed and now they're not friends" concept sometimes ends up being written as if this one simple friendship conflict was the basis of a whole war.

The benefit of IDW1 MegOP is that because they spend their pre-war time apart from each other, they develop separately as people and end up transforming into someone different from their "love at first sight" moment. I like that Orion had relationships with people like Shockwave, Roller, and Zeta, and Megatron had his student/teacher relationship with Terminus and the whole arena thing happening.

Both Megatron and Orion went through traumatizing events during this time period that changed their worldviews for the worse and made them more cynical. Megatron suffered an attempted brainwashing, losing his mentor, his first killing, then being stuck in the arena. Orion went through the loss of Shockwave to a fate worse than death, then the disappearance of his best friend Roller, then worked for Zeta and began to doubt in his ideals/goodness as a leader. In that time between the MegOP's first encounter and their ensuing encounters in a military conflict, they came back as very different people than the first glimpse they got of each other.

Since they only had that ONE first glimpse they had of each other, then met again only to be disappointed by each other's fall from grace (in each others' eyes), this sets up a lot of angst. They wonder if that first glimpse of each other was really true or if it was a lie. Should they trust in those "good" versions of each other they saw so long ago? Do those people even exist? Are they or were they ever worth believing in? Does that man I saw still exist or did I just WANT to see something good in him? That man ruined my life and I hate him for fighting against me, he's a hypocrite. I thought that man was a good person, but he's betrayed the hopes I had by becoming a violent criminal warlord/working for the evil government I thought he opposed.

It sort of has the vibes of a "love at first sight" story gone wrong where their first encounter was kind (I like to imagine Megatron was touched or at least curious about Orion, a cop, telling him to keep writing and be vocal) but then they descended into their worst selves. They only had that one small glimpse of each other at their best but now they're in a scenario where they can only be enemies.

The longing and disappointment is more obvious on Orion's part about Megatron, because Orion got this shining glimpse of Megatron at his best and most passionate, only to encounter Megatron again and all those good parts have been buried to leave only his worst. Megatron's POV about OP isn't really shown, but I feel like it could be interesting to write headcanons about it. How did Megatron feel about Orion making that speech on his behalf? Getting moved to Messatine because Orion made him so public, and all the bad things that happened there?

Yes, their first encounter was brief and they didn't really have a personal relationship before the war. But that brief encounter changed the trajectory of their entire lives. When you combine that with the fact that they saw each other as their "ideal selves", it creates that valid obsession between Megatron and Optimus. It is kind of unhealthy LMAO, because they do kind of become obsessed with each other based on an incomplete view of the other as a person. But then the war happens and they keep having personal and professional encounters that would give them opportunities to meet (such as in diplomacy meetings like Tyrest's peace negotiations and other political things that come with war). And those repeated meetings would only cause them to get to know each other better. Then you get into more mythical/legend-like story dynamics where Megatron and OP have to learn how the other thinks tactically, and their tactical knowledge becomes so intimate they start understanding how the other thinks and it's very dramatic lol. The typical our-enmity-is-so-deep-it-could-be-love enemies to lovers fare.

TLDR:

Circumstances outside of their control drove them apart, made them into different people, and kept them from becoming friends. It makes IDW MegOP feel legendary or mythical, like some sort of epic Greek tragedy of two people who were always 🤏 this close to being friends. There's longing there, and tragedy, imagining what might have been if they'd only been able to talk again, or if they had somehow been able to influence each other before they went down the bad path (violence and crime for Megatron, following Zeta and becoming Prime for Orion/Optimus). But despite that, their natural chemistry perseveres, and they talk to/about each other in a way that shows they still think of each other even when apart.

#megop #idw megop #megatron/optimus prime #opmeg #transformers meta #squiggposting #in short i love them lmao #i didn't even compile all the evidence i couldve i got lazy. but since most of this is under a readmore #i can always update it at some later point i suppose #also i admit i was slightly peeved and that was part of why i made this post #the megops don't need to have a prewar history to have an interesting dynamic #if that was the case then g1 and tfa megop wouldn't be as popular as they are and those dudes had zero relationship outside of being enemie #anyways. i dumped this in a friend's dms and pretty much copied it here #edited it. then added some screenshots. but the longer i look at it the dumber i feel so tadaaaaah #mtmte

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 10 months

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can you make one with matt murdock where they're good friends but one night they're drinking and having fun and then the reader kiss him but when they making out he ends up saying someone else name and the reader leaves, later on they talk and reader apologizes for misreading their relationship and continue to be friends but theres tension in it until bradley finally admits that he likes her and he try to make up for all the time lost

~Friends Don't Treat Me Like You Do~

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none really, embarrassment?? Alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries (nothing major)

Genre: mostly fluff very minor angst

Summary: You've had a crush on your friend for a very long time and when you finally make your move it goes terribly wrong; And that's why friends should sleep in other beds // and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do ... // my friends won't love me like you - Friends by Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know it's a typo of some sort but it's sending me to the moon that the name Bradley is jus thrown into this ask cuz I can't even figure out what it's replacing lmaoooo anyway thank you for requesting! I hope you like it anon! :3 (also I didn't edit this plz be nice)

***

Your friendship with Matt Murdock is in some ways rather unconventional. You've been friends for many years, but these days most of your interactions consist of him stumbling over to your apartment at odd hours covered in bruises you don't ask about- not because you don't want to know but because you're pretty certain you've guessed it and you're not sure what acknowledging it would mean. So you don't ask, instead, you give him food, and tend to his wounds, and talk to him about whatever comes to mind until he inevitably falls asleep on your couch for a few hours and sneaks out early enough to go back to his place for his day job as a defense attorney with his two friends. Both of whom you'd consider friends- although not nearly as close as you are with Matt.

Tonight Matt's invited you over to his place. Apparently, he's been feeling a bit guilty that most of the time you've spent together in recent days has been just him coming over in the middle of the night. As if you'd ever actually be annoyed with taking care of your friend. Your friend you feel for more than he can ever know. Still, he insisted you come over for dinner so you did, he ordered your favorite from a takeout place near his place and now you're eating and drinking wine you brought along with you. Well, you're drinking wine, Matt's been helping himself to the beers filling his fridge.

"Whenever you come over I do all that talking Matty so today you can do the talking this time. Tell me what you've been getting up to lately." You tell him once you've covered asking each other how your day was.

"I don't do anything interesting y/n- I go to work, spend all day reading or writing lengthy opening statements or discussing things with Foggy and our clients until ungodly hours according to Karen. Sometimes they drag me out to Josie's but- there's really nothing I 'get up to' and you know that."

"Why do you do that?" You frown.

"What?"

"Make yourself seem so dull when you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I've known you for a long time Matt and I can't think of single period of our lives where you had nothing interesting going on and yet you always talk about yourself as if you're the color beige personified. It's like you're worried that if people think you're too interesting they'll," you trail for a moment "find out something."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just way more interesting than you want people to think. For some reason."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly an open book either."

"You got something to ask me about Matty?"

"No." He shakes his head. You stare at him for a long moment.

"We should play a game!" You announce.

"I don't really- have games?" Matt says.

"There are tons of games that don't require having anything Matt we just have to pick one."

"Like what?"

"We can play 20 questions- the right way, last letter first letter, I'm not a fan of Ghost but we can do that too, or word replacement- to name a few."

"I'm- not familiar with those besides 20 questions?"

"Well, last letter first letter you pick a category and we name items except the last letter of one item has to be the first letter of the next one so like if we're naming office supplies and I say stapler you'd say something like ruler. And Ghost is a spelling game, kinda like hot potato meets Horse the basketball game- so like you take turns spelling a word and you don't wanna be the one who finishes the word- if you do then you get a letter from the word ghost- first person to finish ghost loses. And then word replacement is just a silly game where you pick a movie or show title and change one of the words to the silliest thing you can think of." You explain quickly.

"Let's do the title one. Requires the least amount of thinking and I don't have to compete with you." He says.

"Then I'll start. Fast and Constipated." You giggle.

"Fast and Constipated!?" Matt's laugh is incredulous.

"Yeah, fast and furious but not so fun."

"Okay um- John Tucker Must... Juggle."

"That's way less fun than him dying." You laugh.

"True."

"What a Chupacabra wants."

"Goats- obviously."

"Shut up." You giggle.

"Now you- resent me 2."

"Oh that's- why would you say that?" You chuckle.

"I dunno I'm too drunk to think of movies." He mutters.

"All I've got are rom-coms in my head and those titles are not nearly as fun to fuck with. Two weeks- paleontologist?"

"Paleontologist!? What movie was that even supposed to be?"

"Two weeks notice. Duh."

"I don't think I know that one." He frowns.

"It's about a woman who ends up working as the PA for some rich businessman when she tries to protest something he's trying to build- I forget the details but he turns out to be a giant useless manchild and when he disrupts her personal life for something frivolous she tries to quit but somehow they fall in love or whatever. It's been a while since I've watched it honestly." You shrug.

"Rom-coms are such a curious collection of movies."

"True but that one is pretty average compared to some others I've seen."

"Do you watch a lot of them?"

"I like to laugh at them mostly." You say. "You know what's a weird one? The Notebook."

"Is that not like- a classic?"

"I mean yeah but like the guy gets the girl to go on a date with him by dangling off of a moving ferris wheel."

"And that works?"

"Somehow! I mean I guess she didn't wanna feel responsible for him dropping himself off the wheel in front of an audience but I dunno it seems like he was just looking for reasons to die in that movie." You explain. "Although I never finished that movie maybe he does die. Except then it wouldn't be a rom-com I guess. It would be more tragedy, like in the Shakespearean sense."

"You are always somewhere else." Matt laughs.

"Not always! Oh! I brought that CD you wanted to borrow. We should play it." You sit up suddenly and grab your backpack.

"Are you sure all you've had is that bottle of wine?" Matt asks sitting up slowly from where he's laying on the floor.

"Where's your player?" You ignore his question.

"Should be in the bookcase." He waves absentmindedly.

"Do you want another beer while I'm up?" You ask walking over to the radio to pop the CD.

"Nah. I'm good thanks." He says. Music fills the apartment, and you can't help but sing along to the upbeat tune from Matt's CD player. You dance, well mostly spin, around the apartment giggling as you go.

"Are you dancing?" Matt turns towards you with a smile on his face although you're not looking at him.

"Of course I am- I love this song. Do you wanna dance with me?" You ask walking towards him, still dancing but less now so you can get where you're going.

"No no- I'll leave the dancing to you." Matt says before you make it all the way over to where he's sitting on the floor.

"Suit yourself." You shrug but when you attempt to change directions you trip on your backpack still on the floor and go tumbling towards the ground. Matt moves quicker than you'd expect for a blind guy off several beers but his arms shoot out and yank you towards him before your head hits the hardwood.

"Careful y/n." He says softly as he settles you into his lap.

"Do I need to be if you're here?" You joke smiling at him as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

"Y/n-" Matt's tone is warning in a way only he could get away with using on you.

"Relax Matty, I know to look after myself." You say quietly. Matt frowns slightly as if he's going to protest, but you don't let him get the words out. Alcohol coursing through your system, you seize the opportunity of his closeness and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. Matt lets out a noise of surprise, he heard your heart rate spike sure but he couldn't have guessed this was why. His lips move against yours for a second before something catches his attention and he's gasping out a name. Except, it's not your name.

"Karen." He breathes and it reaches your ears like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head. You jerk back suddenly.

"Oh my god-" You say scrambling out of his lap. "I- I am so sorry. I'm gonna go." You grab your bag and b-line it for the exit before Matt can even get to his feet.

"H-hang on a second y/n I-"

"I'll- I'll see you around Matt." You force yourself to say before leaving his apartment. You feel sharper than the amount of wine you've had should allow as you walk the few blocks to your place. Only once you're back in the safety of your own home do you let yourself wallow over how absolutely embarrassing that was. You might have just ruined one of the most important relationships in your life only for him to call out for another girl. You stumble into the shower in hopes of washing away some of the embarrassment you feel, or at the very least distracting yourself enough that you can shelf it and get some sleep. You spend hours tossing and replaying the moment excruciatingly but eventually, exhausting wins out and you do fall asleep. The next couple of days you pretty much ignore Matt's calls and texts. You really bury yourself in work to avoid dwelling on that awful night but you know you can't dodge him forever. Evidently, two days is as much as Matt's willing to give you to do so because on day 3 of avoidance he comes knocking at your door late at night as he sometimes does.

"Look- I know you've been avoiding me and all but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say Matt no need. I'm sorry I overstepped, I- I totally misread things the other night but hey- alcohol will do that sometimes. I'm sorry. We're good though. I'm good. I just needed a minute to lick my wounds of embarrassment. Everything's fine. Come on let's see the damage tonight hm?" You lead him into your apartment ignoring the confused look on his face. You let yourself settle back into your routine with him, patching him up, giving him food, getting him up to speed on the last couple of days of your life, telling stories, and just talking until he falls asleep on your couch. You're determined to shake this stupid crush of yours off and go back to the way things have always been between you. And if you're gonna shake this crush step one is putting yourself out there. Which you do, and for the next few weeks you find yourself on dates almost every night. Tonight's date is going surprisingly well all things considered. He'd planned to take you somewhere that ended up being closed after a freak accident the other day that he didn't know about. It was around the corner from Josie's so you brought him here instead and the conversation has been well worth it- even in a place like this. The one downside is that it's Friday and Foggy and Karen usually drag Matt here for drinks on Friday. You had hoped they'd skip out on that tonight but you of course could only be so lucky. When the bell over the door rings and you turn to see Karen leading Matt into the bar with Foggy behind them you almost want to groan. Dating has been nice but seeing Karen and Matt so close is like picking a scab. You turn back to your date with a smile, intent on ignoring the trio, except of course it couldn't be that simple.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n! Hey!" Karen beams at you.

"Karen! Hi! Foggy, Matt, good to see you all." You smile.

"You didn't tell us you'd be here tonight." She says.

"Well I didn't plan on it otherwise of course I'd have let you know." You tell her. "James this is Karen and that's Foggy and Matt. They're friends of mine. They all work together we've- kind of crashed their spot tonight." You tell your date.

"Oh! Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Nice to meet y'all." James shakes each of their hands. "Did you guys- wanna join us? Since it's pretty crowded in here you might not find another table."

"That's so nice of you James!" Karen says. Very nice indeed.

"I'll track down some chairs." Foggy says. You shift your seat closer to James to make room at the table since apparently they'll be joining you. You try not to pay too much attention to Matt's silence as everyone settles around the table.

"So y/n, you told James how we know you but you didn't mention how you know James. Are you guys work colleagues or something?"

"We have a mutual friend that set us up." James offers.

"Oh my gosh! We're crashing a date?! Why didn't you say so?" Karen shakes her head.

"No no no don't even worry about it, we've been here a couple of hours already. I invited you to sit with us so the night could go on." He says.

"Asking me, also would have worked." You smile.

"You guys are just the cutest." Karen sighs.

"I'm guessing this is a first date since- y/n's never mentioned you before." Matt says.

"It is. Not that I have to tell you about every guy I see." You say.

"You tell me everything." He scoffs.

"That's not true and even if it were that doesn't change the fact that I don't have to."

"So you keep things from me?"

"Am I missing something?" James chuckles.

"Matt and y/n have been friends since they were teenagers. They fight like they're siblings sometimes." Foggy explains.

"Sorry about that James. Matt's just-"

"Like a brother- I get it. I have siblings so I definitely know what it's like." He nods.

"Exactly." You smile.

"Like a brother." Matt quirks an eyebrow at you.

"As good a way as any to describe us." You nod. Matt hums and raises his glass to his lips without another word. The five of you sit and talk over drinks for another hour before you're ready to leave and James is happy to walk you out.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." He tells you.

"Even with the date crashers?" You ask with a goofy grimace.

"Heck yeah! Your friends are great." He laughs. "Next time I'll have my friends crash us. How about that?"

"Next time?"

"If you're willing. I'd really like to see you again."

"I- I'd like that." You nod.

"Cool. I'll- start coming up with second date ideas."

"Hopefully this time the place you pick doesn't impromptu have an incident." You laugh.

"I will quadruple check." He tells you. When you reach your block, but not your building, you stop and turn to him.

"Sounds good. I'll see you around James." You smile. He leans forward and kisses your cheek softly.

"Goodnight y/n." He says and walks away. You make it up to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and take a long shower. You enjoyed talking to James and you actually are interested in seeing him again for sure. Soon you're showered and pajamaed and pretty much ready for bed but before you can flop into it there's a knock at your door. Who could be knocking on your door right now? A quick check shows you it's Matt standing in your hallway.

"Matthew?" You open the door with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well- right now I'm wondering what you're doing in my apartment."

"Like a brother to you?! Seriously? Last time I checked most people don't make out with their brothers."

"Depends on where you are I suppose." You shrug. "But regardless Matt that was a mistake we both know that." You shake your head.

"A mistake? Is that how you feel about it?"

"How I- I'm sorry did you forget calling out Karen's name while I was kissing you?! Cuz I've been trying to so if you've got tips to share on how that'd be great."

"Goddammit y/n." He sighs dropping his head.

"Matt you really should go. I know you worry or whatever but- James is, nice and it's late I'd like to go to bed."

"Screw James." Matt scoffs.

"Um- it was only our first date- you're skipping a few steps."

"That is not what I- it's like you do this on purpose."

"What are you doing here Matt?" You sigh.

"I don't like you dating him. I don't like you dating anyone for that matter. How could you kiss me like that and just... move on like nothing?"

"I dunno it's pretty easy when you call me the wrong name." You say.

"That was not what you think."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't y/n. I'm serious. I could-" Matt stops and lets out a breath. "I'm Daredevil." He says.

"I know." You nod.

"What? You know?"

"You come in here at the witching hour every few days covered in bruises Matt how many explanations could there possibly be for that?" You roll your eyes.

"You never asked."

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." You shrug. "Why tell me now?"

"Since I can't see- my other senses make up for the loss. They're like- very developed. I heard Karen scream somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, she sounded like she was in trouble that's- that's why I called out her name. I thought maybe one of Daredevil's many enemies managed to connect her to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm always listening for her and Foggy these days and I just-"

"Well was she in danger?" You ask.

"Nightmare." He mutters. "But by the time I pieced that together you were gone."

"Of course I was. Having a man say someone else's name when you kiss him is not something that encourages-" Matt cuts off your snarky remark by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You react quickly, kissing him back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. By the time you pull away from him, you're breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about it." He says.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well in my defense I've spent the last few weeks trying to get over you-" Matt kisses you again, hard, possessive, fiery.

"Don't." He says.

"Obviously." You grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. You spent years thinking you'd never get to kiss him, now that you know the truth you fully intend to take advantage and Matt has years of pining he wants to make up for.

***

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