#n whether i meant for somethin to happen never mattered to him

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

So. Turns out he hates me (in part) cause I'm the reason he's here

#cause i 'trapped him in my miserable little life' #like ummmmm no offense but you don't actually think if i had ANY control over it it woulda been _you_? #......he took offense #i mean i guess technically he's not wrong he is here cause i need him but #actin like it was intentional? like i specifically wanted him here so he has to experience firsthand the shit he's put me through #as payback #made sure i know he still doesn't regret a single thing he's done to me. as if i didn't already #to him i'm the one who took _him_ away from _his_ life #what do i even say to that?? technically he's not wrong #n whether i meant for somethin to happen never mattered to him #you could always try to make the best of what you're stuck w/ instead of actively makin everything worse but...... #i guess the vindication is more important #'ohh of course you woulda rather had your little bf here' like yea? obviously? why does that piss you off so much #also he's not my bf but you know that you just wanted to be condescending #never gonna understand how he's gonna get jealous about someone who isn't even here when he literally hates my guts #i don't want you but no one else can have you either kinda mentality #i guess he don't want me thinkin i have some kinda value aside from my body to someone n not need him anymore #i already have people who value me but emotionally that's not sinkin in #n i guess if i fell in love n was actually loved back i'd be givin someone a part of me that's only ever been his #five minute long groan #can you like. try not bein like this #it's kinda funny though it's so fucking backwards. i took away everything he had? i trapped him here?? #i'm makin _him_ feel these things? #babe you only feel em cause _you're_ makin _me_ feel that way n we share a goddamn brain #wrap your head around that one maybe #spdrvent

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 8,347 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: the Greene farm Warnings: Language, violence, gore, attempted sexual assault, discussions of trauma, typical TWD A/N: This is Part 1 of the new miniseries! This should be 2 or 3 parts total, and it's kind of intense and a bit dark at certain points so heed the warnings ya'll. Summary: Y/N is considered quiet, standoffish, and even a bit odd by the group, but Daryl knows how much she does around camp to care for everyone. After a traumatic incident while searching for Sophia, Daryl starts to discover why Y/N is the way she is.

Your name: submit What is this?

The group was all sitting around the low campfire, eating some breakfast. The two Greene girls came out with baskets in hand. Beth approached Rick and held hers out. “We have some more eggs for you all. Our hens lay more than we can eat,” she said.

Rick gratefully accepted them with an earnest look and a nod. “Thank you. That’s very kind.”

“And some potatoes,” Maggie offered. Lori grabbed her basket.

“Really, you all are being so kind. If there’s anything we can do to help around the place just let us know,” she said.

Beth was looking off into the distance at you sitting alone, away from the group, your back to the farmstead. “What’s wrong with her?” she asked, without really thinking.

“Beth!” Maggie scolded her.

“Well, I—I just mean she never eats with ya’ll. She seems like she’s always off on her own,” Beth explained, a little sheepish from her sister’s scolding.

The rest of the group was looking your direction now too, many of them asking the same questions in their minds.

“C’mon, now. That’s enough,” Maggie said. “Daddy needs help with the laundry.”

The group watched them head back to the farmhouse and Shane was the next one to break the silence. “It’s a fair question,” he said, chuckling to himself wryly, glancing back over his shoulder at you before leaning in to grab another helping of breakfast. “She hasn’t exactly meshed into the fabric of the group, has she?”

“Shane, give it a rest,” Lori said sternly.

“No offense meant but I don’t think I’ve ever heard her say more than two words at a time,” Andrea said. “You can’t pretend like there isn’t something… odd there.”

Dale hummed. “Not that it’s really our business, but she’s never said anything about what happened to her before we found her out by the quarry. I’ve tried to ask her about her family, what she used to do before all this,” he shrugged vaguely. “Never got a thing out of her. That’s her right if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but it does seem a little strange.”

“That’s all I’m sayin’,” Shane said. “Somethin’ weird with that girl,” he trailed off.

Daryl stood up, annoyed. “Ya’ll are a buncha busy body gossips. If ya’d open your damn eyes for two seconds you’d realize she does more for this group than most of ya combined,” he growled. “She gathered that wood burnin’ in your fire right there. Them mushrooms mixed in with your damn eggs, who the hell ya think found those? Ya think they just magically appeared along with that stuff you’re usin’ to make tea every night?” He tossed his empty plate down on the grass and scoffed. “People who don’t trust easily usually got a damn good reason. ’M outta here.”

Shane watched him go in slight amusement, but most of the others looked a little ashamed of themselves. Daryl was right, of course. You did do a lot for the group. You just kept to yourself. You didn’t make a big show of bringing back some meat or foraged food. You never complained when Rick or Shane asked you to do something. You took more than your fair share of the night watches. And the fact that no one knew anything about your past, the fact that you didn’t talk much, didn’t need any explanation to Daryl. Based on his own background, he could guess there was a reason you were the way you were.

A short time later, Daryl noticed you gathering up your pack and grabbing your pistol and recurve bow. He wandered over as you were snapping your knife into its sheath at your hip. “Ya headin’ out to search again?” he asked softly. You and him seemed to be the only ones who hadn’t completely given up hope of finding Sophia. You simply nodded once.

“Alright,” Daryl drawled. “What’s your plan?” Asking a question that wasn’t a simple yes or no was always a toss-up with you. Half the time he’d get a short answer, half the time he wouldn’t.

“North side of the ridge,” you said. Your voice was always quiet and measured. The archer usually wished most people would talk less, but with you he always hoped to hear more. The little that you said was purposeful and deliberate. There was no idle bullshit.

He nudged his nose up in a nod at you. “Alright. I’ll start by that creek and work along the south side. We can be close by in case either of us gets into trouble with walkers,” he said.

You simply nodded again and gave him a long thoughtful look. You did that a lot. Daryl had the feeling there was a lot going on behind your eyes, but you never spoke any of it. Surprisingly, he never felt nervous or uncomfortable when you looked at him like that. He just hoped someday maybe you’d open up a little bit more. The next moment you had turned and were heading toward the tree line already. Daryl scrambled to gather his gear and set off after you.

He could see your figure ahead, disappearing into the brush and soon he couldn’t see or hear you at all. He set out along the south side of the ridge as planned, picking his way along the creek, scrutinizing every inch of ground and hoping for a shoeprint.

Along the north side you were doing the same. You frequently knelt to examine some little scrape in the litter or soil and as you went you filled the little cloth bag you carried with edible and medicinal plants, berries, and fungi. The day wore on with no sign of the little girl and your frustration and fear grew even as the sun reached its apex in the sky and started to drift back down toward the western horizon.

You turned and started picking a new path back, heading toward the farm now rather than away. The deepening shadows made detecting print or trail more difficult but you kept your focus sharp on the ground as you moved, your bow slung over your shoulder next to your quiver.

You were becoming tired when you noticed an impression in the mud. You knelt, one knee of your jeans sinking into the damp soil. It was a boot print, but certainly not left by Sophia. You stared at the detail of the sole impression and your brow drew down low immediately. You have everyone’s shoe designs memorized. It wasn’t one you recognized. Your eyes drifted up and you could see a worn trail through the underbrush and more prints, heavy in the mud. There were at least three men who had left this trail, and they weren’t walkers. The path was straight ahead with no stagger and you could tell they were picking their way through the underbrush. You crouched and started to follow the trail. You needed to get eyes on these people. They were awfully close to the farm… Close enough, certainly, to see the smoke rising from the chimney and your fire circles.

You ghosted through the woods following the trail, moving as silently as you could. You’d been on the path for probably ten minutes when you could hear careless, noisy movement ahead. You must have caught up with them. Your heart hammering in your chest, you stayed low and crept closer. As you moved around a partially downed tree you could finally see the shapes of two men ahead. They were scruffy and filthy, clearly living on the move in the woods. You needed a closer look. You wanted to see what kinds of weapons they had on them. If you could scout out the group, you could determine whether something needed to be done about them or not.

As you tried to shift to another patch of concealing cover, you didn’t notice your bow catching on a low hanging dead branch. By the time you felt the resistance it was too late. The whole branch pulled loose with a loud snapping sound as it bent and cracked other dried branches and twigs on its way down. The two men you had been watching spun immediately and had weapons raised, rifles pointed in your direction. You were swearing under your breath and instantly on your feet aiming your pistol right back.

“Well, shit! What the hell do we have here?” one of the men asked, shifting a little to get a better look at you. “You alone out here, sweetheart?”

You fell an immediate swell of anger and dread rising up in your chest.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” the second man asked, grinning and revealing teeth that were tobacco stained and yellow.

“What’s a fine little thing like you doing out here by yourself? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? There are all kinds of monsters in these woods,” the first man said, looking you up and down thoroughly. His companion laughed.

Fuck. This was bad. Why had you pushed your luck and crept in so closely? Now you were outnumbered and you knew there was at least one other man somewhere that you didn’t have eyes on.

Your chest was heaving with anxious breaths from the rush of adrenaline. The first man stepped a bit closer again and you responded by taking a measured step back, your pistol aimed squarely at his chest. Now what? Should you make a run for it? Would they shoot you? Based on the animalistic looks in their eyes you knew things could go very bad, very quickly if you couldn’t get the fuck out of there. Your mind was whirring.

Suddenly, you heard a stick crack behind you and you turned instinctively to see a third man now rushing you. He landed a fist into your jaw and your vision went black as you fell to the ground, holding onto your pistol as tightly as you could. The pain radiating from your jaw into your head was overwhelming. You blinked, willing the darkness to clear, but it lingered as you suddenly felt rough hands on you, rolling you over and ripping both your bow and rifle from your back.

You struggled blindly and managed to get yourself onto your back again as the darkness in your eyes faded instead to the outlines of blurred shapes. You could make out the shape of the man standing over you and you instinctively raised your pistol and squeezed several rounds which sounded like cracks of thunder in the close woods. You missed, the scene still foggy, and you immediately squeezed again and discharged another round but the man leapt down on you with a wild yell, knocking your arm to the side and pinning it into the ground. His weight pressed down on you and you were vaguely aware of an acrid smell filling your nostrils, causing bile to rise up in your throat. He pried your pistol from your hand and tossed it away into the brush.

You writhed beneath him, struggling to get clear of his grasp but he was much bigger than you and soon there was another set of hands on you. You were rolled onto your stomach again and your arms were pulled back behind you and held painfully tight.

“We got ourselves a wild cat here, boys!” one of the men laughed. “Get her up,” he ordered. You were pulled roughly onto your feet, still trying to blink away the remaining fuzziness in your eyes and struggling against your captor.

The first man, who seemed to be the leader, paced over, watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face as you still tried to fight loose. His rifle was now dropped casually by his side. He grabbed your chin cruelly and pulled it up so you looked right into his eyes. His fingers dug into the tender spot on your jaw where the other man had hit you. “Ain’t you a pretty little thing,” he murmured silkily.

You yanked your face from his grasp and he chuckled, glancing back at the other man standing just behind him. “She’s a good one,” he said, a sick smirk on his face. He looked back at you and his eyes roamed perversely over your body. “This’ll be fun.”

He turned violent and grabbed the front of your light cotton shirt, ripping it harshly down off one shoulder, tearing the breezy plaid fabric easily and popping off the first three buttons. The man holding you only tightened his grip. Your throat constricted so tightly it was hard to breathe. You felt like your heart was beating so hard that it would surely burst. You could feel everyone’s eyes on your newly bared skin. Next the leader withdrew a knife and pressed the point into the center of your chest just above your bra. You cringed at the feeling of the biting cold metal pricking your skin.

He stepped close into you and moved the knife up to your throat, pressing it to the side of your neck and drawing it lightly across your skin just enough to cut you. You winced and shut your eyes, trying to keep as still as possible with that blade to your throat and you soon felt a rivulet of warmth rolling down toward your collarbone. You opened your eyes as the knife left your throat and he slipped it under your exposed bra strap, rotating it and lifted up until the fabric started to separate along the sharp edge. Finally, it gave and the strap hung loosely down. He sucked in a hiss of breath through his teeth, his eyes hungry and crazed. “This will be a lot easier on you if you just cooperate. Then again… I like a woman with some fight in her,” he snarled. “Your choice.” His companions let out more appreciative laughter as fear twisted your stomach.

You felt yourself going numb. Suddenly, you couldn’t feel any pain anymore. You couldn’t feel the man’s hands pinning your arms back. You couldn’t feel the blood that was now running down your chest. Your eyes drifted to the leader’s cold, blue blade and then unfocused so the scene simply became a haze. And you suddenly realized that they hadn’t taken your knife. It was still in its sheath on your hip…

A short distance away, Daryl had been thinking that it was probably about time to call it a day and head back when he heard a series of loud gunshots. His body went rigid and he turned frantically, staring off into the brush. He strained his hearing to its limit. They’d definitely come from your direction. Abandoning any other thought, he sprung into motion, racing through the woods as fast as he could in the direction he thought the blasts had come from.

Back in camp, everyone else had heard the shots too. Shane turned and looked at Rick, his gaze intense.

“Were those gun shots?” Lori asked, fear in her voice.

“Yeah,” Rick said, rising to his feet and rushing to grab his gun from the stash of weapons in the RV. “Shane, T, Glenn, let’s go! The rest of you stay here!”

Hershel stepped out onto the porch and watched the group of men racing across the pasture toward the trees. He had a bad feeling in his gut. Maggie and Beth came out, the slamming screen door punctuating the piercing silence that fell after the shots.

Daryl smashed through the brush carelessly, his eyes scanning the ground for a trail, any trail, something to follow. Finally, his eyes locked on boot prints that were surely yours. He vaguely registered that there were much larger impressions in the soil too, several different boots much larger than yours. And they certainly weren’t from walkers.

“Son of a bitch,” he cursed under his breath. He froze and scanned the thick greenery. He strained his hearing again, listening for some sound, anything, to give him an idea of what was happening. Please don’t let me be too late, he thought frantically. He took off again but more cautiously, following the tracks you had clearly also discovered. Probably what had led you right into something…

Rick and the others were well into the trees now but Shane stopped everyone. “Rick, what the hell are we doin’ man? We don’t have a clue where Y/N and Daryl are. We can’t just go blindly crashing through here or we’re gonna end up in a bad spot too.”

Rick’s eyes frantically whirred over the seemingly endless tree trunks.

“Wait—I saw Y/N’s map yesterday. She had the whole thing sectioned out into search areas,” Glenn said. “Most of them were already crossed off.”

“Well, which ones weren’t?” Shane urged, checking to make sure there was a round chambered in his gun.

“Uhh—” Glenn’s mind raced. “I think—I think by that ridge, straight north of here. But I can’t be sure,” he trailed off.

Rick rubbed a hand over his face. They all listened for any sound, but the woods were oppressively silent now. “Shit…” he cursed under his breath.

“It’s the best we got,” T gasped, out of breath from the frenetic dash from camp.

Rick nodded. “Alright. Then we head north. Keep your heads on a swivel and your eyes peeled for any sign of Y/N or Daryl.”

Daryl moved as swiftly along the trail as he could. Suddenly, he spotted something lying on top of the litter out of the corner of his eye. Your pistol. Daryl grabbed it and the muzzle was still warm. Clearly, you’d been the one to fire at least some of those shots. “Fuck. Fuck…” He tucked it into his waistband and moved more cautiously now. His heart was pounding and sweat was pouring down his forehead. His knuckles were white on his crossbow. He rounded a downed tree and froze when he saw a dark shape on the ground ahead. His heart dropped into his stomach. Please don’t let it be Y/N… He was almost paralyzed with fear but he forced himself to take another couple steps. As he rounded the brush and straightened up, he knew it wasn’t you but his apprehension didn’t evaporate. It was a large man, clearly dead, completely covered in blood. The hair on the back of Daryl’s neck suddenly stood on end and he spun around, his crossbow up to his eye, ready to fire. But he dropped it involuntarily as he took in the scene before him, his jaw dropping partially open and his eyes narrowing as he tried to figure out what the fuck he was seeing.

You were standing there in front of him trembling from head to toe, your hands out in front of you with your knife clutched in one like it was a lifeline. Daryl could easily see the shakiness in your hands. You were completely covered in blood. Your clothing and skin were soaked in it, like you’d bathed in a crimson river. There was thick splatter on your face, neck, and chest. Your eyes were wide and fixed and you didn’t show any awareness that he was there in front of you. Daryl registered that your shirt was torn down from one shoulder and your bra strap had been cut. He didn’t need an explanation to know what the fuck had happened and rage swelled in his chest, stoking an intense fire. His eyes drifted down to two more bodies lying at your feet, each with uncountable stab wounds and one with his throat cut, his clothing drenched. The metallic smell of blood was in the air and Daryl could almost taste it on his tongue.

Still you showed no awareness that he was there. You seemed frozen, catatonic. He now registered that you had slash wounds through the fabric of your sleeves and cuts on your arms. Defensive wounds where you had blocked a knife attack. There was a purposeful cut partially up the hem of your jeans at the bottom, clearly from one of the men… It was nearly impossible to tell if you were hurt anywhere else because there was just so much blood…

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he murmured. “Y/N?” He took a cautious step toward you. “Y/N? Can ya hear me?”

Nothing. No reaction at all.

Just then Daryl heard the noise of several people in the woods nearby and he planted himself between you and the sound, raising his crossbow. “Ya better get the fuck outta here unless ya want an arrow between the eyes!” he roared.

Rick straightened up. That was Daryl. “Daryl?!”

Daryl gulped. “…Rick?”

“Yeah, it’s me, Shane, Glenn, and T! We’re comin’ to you! Are you alright?”

Daryl glanced back at you again. You were still just standing there shaking. “‘M fine. Wasn’t me who fired…” Daryl swung his pack off his back and dug inside it.

The men crashed through the underbrush and came into view, taking in the scene. “Oh my God.” The words spilled from Glenn’s lips. They were all glancing from the bloody bodies on the ground to your blood-soaked figure.

“Jesus Christ,” Shane uttered, pacing closer and bending to look at the slash wound in the one corpse’s neck. Daryl finally laid hands on his poncho and yanked it out of his bag. He turned to look at you and began approaching cautiously. “Y/N? It’s Daryl. Can ya hear me?”

Nothing.

Rick was slack-jawed as he looked at the scene. “Daryl… be careful,” he cautioned, eyeing the knife still gripped in your fist.

Daryl glanced back at him. “She ain’t gonna do nothin’ to me,” he drawled.

“Do you see this?” Glenn asked him urgently indicating the bodies. “This is insane. You don’t know that! She looks completely out of it, like she doesn’t even know we’re here!”

Daryl’s jaw clenched and he turned back to look at you again. “Don’t ya fuckin’ see her? She’s terrified. Look at her clothes. They were tryin’ to rape her,” he growled. “They deserve what they got.”

Shane straightened up from examining the bodies, glancing furtively over at you. “Maybe but… on the force, we’d call this ‘overkill’,” he said, backing up and exchanging a glance with Rick.

Daryl ignored him. “Y/N? It’s alright. You’re safe. Nobody is gonna hurt ya. Just lemme take your knife, okay?” There was no recognition on your face, your eyes still wide and fixed, until Daryl’s hand gently closed over yours and started to open your hand around the handle of your knife. He could feel you shaking beneath his fingers. “S’alright,” he said softly as your eyes landed on his face and then locked with his. Your brow drew down low, casting a shadow over the vaguely confused look on your face. As Daryl gently took your knife, he could see there was a very deep gash in your palm. It was bleeding heavily. He guessed it was either another defensive wound from you putting your hands up to stop one of the men’s knives or otherwise your hand, slick with blood, had slipped down onto your own blade when you’d been fighting them. “Glenn, get some gauze out of my pack and bring it over here,” he said. He spoke calmly and softly. He glanced back over at Glenn when he didn’t move from his slack-jawed frozen position. “Glenn. Gauze.” Glenn snapped himself out of it and went to Daryl’s bag. The archer gulped and draped his poncho over you, covering your ripped shirt. “S’alright,” he murmured again.

You didn’t take your eyes off his face. He wasn’t even sure if you realized the others were there. Glenn walked forward and handed Daryl the small roll of sterile gauze before backing up slowly. The look in your eyes was haunted and dazed and it left all of them feeling empty and concerned.

Daryl opened your hand flat and your eyes drifted down to watch him wrap the bandage over the wound on your palm. You couldn’t feel it. You couldn’t really feel anything, except Daryl’s hands on yours.

Shane turned to Rick. “Rick, what the hell are we gonna do about this? We can’t just waltz her back into camp covered in blood. You don’t want the others seein’ this… Carl? Lori? Or Hershel. Look at her. She looks completely unstable. This might be enough for him to kick us out right now.” He looked back at you over his shoulder.

Rick sighed heavily. “So, we’ll get her cleaned up first.”

Daryl was keeping one ear on the conversation going on behind him. “She needs stitches on this hand,” he drawled. “And who knows how else she’s hurt. Can’t see a damn thing on her right now. And since ya’ll are more worried about yourselves than her, I’ll take care of it. Why don’t ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl growled.

Glenn stepped forward. “We are worried about her. But you have to admit that this is—this is—” He didn’t even know what word to use. Daryl just stared at him. You were hugging your arms around yourself now, still shaking. Your eyes were downcast, staring unseeing at the ground.

“Listen, I don’t give a shit what ya do. I’m gettin’ her outta here and taken care of.” He hastily shouldered his pack and his crossbow.

“Just—Daryl,” Rick started, pinching the bridge of his nose, the situation weighing on him heavily. “Clean her up a bit before you take her to Hershel to be looked over.”

The archer eyed him through a narrow glare for a moment before he nodded. He turned back to you, your frame swallowed up in his poncho. “C’mon. Let’s get ya home,” he said gently. Your eyes snapped up to his face again and you allowed him to lead you back toward the farmstead.

He picked a path carefully and finally the two of you broke out from the edge of the forest. The others back in the camp were staring at the tree line, wracked with nerves. Lori straightened up as she recognized movement. “Dale—someone just stepped out.”

Dale, standing on the RV, raised his binoculars to his eyes. “Oh my,” slipped from his lips.

“What? Who is it?” Carol asked anxiously.

“I think it’s Y/N and Daryl,” Dale said. “I can’t quite tell properly, but I think something is wrong with Y/N.” He squinted into the binoculars again. “My God. Her jeans are covered in blood and it—it looks like there’s blood on her neck, her face…”

Carol pressed a hand over her mouth. “Is she hurt?” she asked anxiously. “Was she bit?”

Dale shook his head, lowering the binoculars again. “They’re too far. I can’t tell what’s going on.”

Daryl looked up to see everyone standing almost in a line watching the two of you as you started across the field. He gulped and then put a hand lightly on your back, nervous and unsure of how you would react to the contact. He guided you toward his camp which was closest and was set apart from everyone else’s.

“C’mon and sit down, alright. We’re just gonna clean ya up a bit and then take ya to Hershel.” The look in your eyes was worrying him immensely but you sat down on a round of wood pulled up near the fire ring. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how he could reassure you. “Hey. S’alright. You’re safe.”

You met his blue eyes and he finally saw some sense of relief in them. His stomach flipped at the way they softened and he nodded. He took in the sight of you in his poncho again and realized you’d need something else to wear to go see Hershel that wasn’t half ripped off you. “I’m gonna, uhh—” he cleared his throat nervously. “I’ll put a clean shirt out on my cot for ya. Ya can change in in my tent and then we’ll just clean ya up a bit, alright?” He knew better than to wait for a response and climbed to his feet and disappeared into his tent to set the clothes out. He dug around in his duffel bag until he found one that was still folded tightly, definitely clean, and he set it out for you. You watched the handsome archer reemerge from inside his tent and nod his head toward it. “Alright. Go ahead. I’ll just be right out here.”

He watched you get up and disappear, zipping the door behind you. He paced in front of the fire circle, rubbing his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully as the image of you standing there in the woods, frozen, absolutely soaked in blood with your shirt half torn surged forward in his mind and he felt another sickening swell of anger. Jesus. Things could have gone so bad with those men… and they were fucking lucky they were already dead when he got there.

The soft rustling of the tent fabric interrupted his thoughts and you stepped out in his long-sleeved flannel, looking a bit dazed still but more grounded. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “C’mon and sit down,” he said, gesturing to the round of wood again. You sank down on it. Daryl grabbed a bucket of clean water that had been warming in the sun all day. He grabbed a cloth from inside his tent and caught sight of your bloody and torn shirt discarded on the floor, feeling another tight twist between his lungs, like someone had tugged a knot there.

You watched him kneel down in front of you and sink the cloth into the bucket of water, wringing it out before bringing it close to your face. He hesitated short of touching you. “S’this alright?” he drawled.

You gave him a questioning look but finally nodded, just one slight tip of your chin. You closed your eyes as the fabric came in contact with your cheek and Daryl started wiping away the blood. The cloth stained crimson quickly. He cleaned the splatters from across your forehead and your nose and the spots on the other side of your face. With the red stains gone, Daryl could see the shadow of a deep bruise along the side of your jaw. Without thinking he gently clasped your chin and turned your head so he could examine it, a heavy shadow falling over his blue eyes. He sunk the cloth back into the bucket of water and wrung it out again, this time pressing it to the side of your neck.

Despite how gentle he was being, you involuntarily sucked in a sharp hiss of air through your teeth as the cloth found the cut on the side of your neck from the leader’s knife. Your eyes blinked open through your wince.

“Sorry,” Daryl drawled, pulling back to look at the wound. “Jesus… Those assholes had a knife to your neck?” he asked. It was rhetorical and he didn’t expect an answer. He wiped at the blood spatter and you closed your eyes again, trying to breathe deeply and still the trembling you still felt wracking through you. Daryl could hear a shaky quality in your breathing. Soon, your face and neck were clean and Daryl turned his attention to your hands. Your eyes were still shut as he rinsed the cloth out again in the bucket. “Lemme see your hands,” he said softly. You found the deep gravel of his voice comforting.

Out of everyone in your group, you usually felt like Daryl was the only one who really saw you. You’d wanted to get to know him better, but held yourself back. He seemed to seek solitude like you did, and you didn’t want to force yourself into his world.

He took your hand, your palm resting against his, and he swept the cloth lightly over the back of it and down each finger. The sensation sent goosebumps rising on your skin and you glanced up at the concerned and intent expression on his face curiously. You couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had shown you so much attention and care. He took your other hand in his now, the one with gauze around it and the deep gash in your palm. He rubbed the blood from the back of each finger and then flipped it over in his hand. He frowned as he noticed that your blood had soaked through the bandage. “Probably need stitches on this one,” he murmured softly. The cloth tickled over the underside of each finger now, sweeping off the ends. “Alright. Push up them sleeves,” he said, dunking the cloth into the bucket again for what felt like the hundredth time.

“What?” He was startled by your voice and his eyes snapped up to look at you.

He straightened up, one of his eyebrows quirking down at the question. “Ya had a buncha cuts on your arms. We need to clean ‘em up and check ‘em. See if ya need stitches anywhere else.”

You shook your head.

He gave you a questioning look for a long moment and chewed on his bottom lip. “Alright. Ya can do it. I’ll just go tell Hershel you’re on your way in, alright?”

You stared at him for another long moment as he set the cloth on the edge of the bucket, whose water was now stained a dark pink. You glanced up as he climbed to his feet and nodded.

“Alright,” he said. “C’mon up when you’re done and we’ll get that hand taken care of.”

Daryl started over toward the farmhouse and as he approached Carol rushed up to him. “What happened?” she urged him. “Are you okay? Is Y/N?”

He stopped, his hand on one hip. He glanced back out toward the trees and saw the rest of the group making their way back toward camp across the field. “‘M fine,” he drawled. “Y/N ran into some men out there when we were searchin’.”

“Men? What men? What happened? Is she alright?”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and shrugged vaguely. “I don’t know how to—how to answer that,” he said truthfully.

Confusion muddled Carol’s expression and she glanced in the direction of you over at Daryl’s camp. “Well, what happened?” she asked again.

Daryl looked at her seriously and shrugged vaguely. “Y/N killed ‘em. Didn’t have no choice.” He continued his path up to the house and bounded up the porch steps, knocking on the front door. Carol stared after him, a bit shocked. Maggie answered, looking worried.

“Were those gun shots earlier?” she asked.

Daryl nodded. “Mhm… Hey, can your dad take a look at Y/N?”

“Of course. What happened?” she asked, holding the screen door open so he could step inside.

Hershel was there in an instant. “Daryl. What happened? We heard those shots.”

“Y/N and I were out lookin’ for Sophia. There were some men. She—she ran into some trouble.”

Hershel took a deep breath and nodded. “Is she alright?”

“I think she needs stitches in her hand. She took a good hit to her jaw too. Might have a concussion. I dunno,” he said. He anxiously chewed on his bottom lip again. “I know she’s got some cuts on her arms, defensive wounds, but she wouldn’t let me look at ‘em. Got a cut on her neck.”

“Oh my God,” Maggie said, her hand flying up to her mouth.

“What happened to the men?” Hershel asked.

Daryl quit chewing the side of his thumbnail. “Dead,” he said, watching the old farmer’s reaction closely, but the man’s face was blank. He simply nodded.

“I’ll get my kit. Have her come on in.”

Daryl headed back onto the porch to see how you were doing and you were on your way over. His eyes caught on the dark splatters and stains of blood on your jeans and the slit at the bottom. His stomach twisted. Maybe he should have had you change clothes completely… You were trying to ignore the eyes on you as you made your way over to the house.

Andrea and Lori exchanged a look at the state of your clothes.

“Come on in here and sit down,” Hershel said kindly. “Let’s take a look at that hand.” You offered up your gauze-wrapped hand and Hershel laid it out on the table, unwrapping the already blood-soaked bandage and taking a look at the deep gash. “Pretty deep cut here. Definitely need stitches.” He grabbed a needle from his kit and pricked the end of each of your fingers. They all twitched in response. “You can feel that?” You nodded. “Good. Looks like we dodged any nerve damage. Much deeper and you would have needed major surgery for a cut tendon and who knows what else. Maggie, dear, would you get the sutures set up while I clean this off?”

Nerve damage. Cut tendon. Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his spot leaned up against the wall. You hardly seemed to react to the news at all.

Hershel swabbed at your hand and you shut your eyes against the bite of the alcohol. “Now, Daryl tells me you took a good hit to the jaw. I’m just gonna check it and make sure nothing is broken.” He palpated both sides of your face, across your cheekbones and up your jawline. “Just a bit swollen,” he said. “Did you lose sight when you were hit?” he asked you, grabbing a small pen light and checking the dilation response of each of your pupils. You gulped and nodded. “Do you remember your name?” he asked you. You nodded again. “I need you to answer my questions verbally. I’m interested in your answers but also your speech.”

“My name’s Y/N.”

“When is your birthday?” Hershel asked.

You stared at him. “No one here knows my birthday. How will you know if I’m right or not?”

A small smile grew on Hershel’s face. “I’d say your speech and cognition are fine. Probably a mild concussion though with your eyesight blacking out. You’ll need to take it easy the next few days, rest and fluids, and let me know if you develop any new symptoms like vomiting or nausea, confusion, a worsening headache. Understand?”

You nodded again. “Yes. I understand.”

“Sutures are ready,” Maggie said.

Hershel put on a pair of clean gloves and prepared. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to numb you,” he said, propping your hand up on a towel so he could see it better.

“It’s alright. I would have told you to save it anyway,” you said. Daryl straightened up from his place against the wall and came to stand next to you. You could feel his eyes on your face.

“You’re one tough cookie,” Hershel said. “Let’s get this taken care of.” You hardly flinched as he passed the needle through…

Outside, Rick and the others were just arriving back at camp. Everyone gathered around and seemed to read on their faces that they were all unsettled.

“Rick,” Lori said, grabbing him into a hug. “What happened? We saw Daryl and Y/N come back. Her jeans were covered in blood.”

Rick looked down at her. “Nothing to worry about. It’s been taken care of.”

“Well, what was it?” Lori pressed him, her eyes still a bit wide and fearful.

Carol spoke up. “Daryl said she ran into some men and they’re—she killed them.”

Glenn and T were avoiding everyone’s eyes while Shane let out a frustrated sigh and paced away from the group, disagreeing with Rick still about the decision not to tell everyone you had clearly gone slasher on those assholes. Provoked or justified or not, Shane felt like that was something everyone should know. He’d gone far enough to describe you as a serial killer before Rick had stood him down. Rick nodded and looked at his wife and then at Andrea and Dale. “Y/N was attacked and she dealt with it. Hershel is gonna patch her up and there’s nothing to worry about.

“What if there are more of those men?” Carol asked fearfully.

“We only ever saw three different boot prints out there,” T reassured her. “But we’ll keep watch like we always do. We’ll be fine.”

Everyone still looked uneasy, but settled back into their tasks. Lori was about to go fetch some more water when Shane grabbed her arm and tugged her around the side of the SUV. She gave him a stern look and pulled her arm from his grasp.

“What?” she snapped at him, a bit unkindly.

“Rick ain’t tellin’ you everythin’,” he said.

Lori just stared Shane with a guarded expression. “I trust my husband. And you used to, too.”

“Yeah, well… What happened out there today? It should concern everyone.” His expression was dark and Lori felt her sense of unease grow.

Shane rubbed a hand over the stubble on his face. “Y/N just—” Shane let out a sigh that had the edge of a growl to it.

“What are you talking about?” Lori pressed him in an undertone. “Are we in danger?”

Shane straightened up and pressed his lips into a thin line briefly before meeting her eyes. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I’m not taking my eyes off that girl.”

Inside, Hershel tied off the final stitch and snipped the suture. “All done.” He applied a layer of antibacterial ointment and wrapped your hand in a fresh dressing. “Try to keep it dry. And I mean it,” he gave you a pointed look, “take it easy for a few days. Daryl, you hold her to that. Anything else you need me to look at? Your arms? Daryl said—” You shook your head no. “Alright.”

The archer straightened up as you climbed to your feet. “Thank you,” you murmured to Hershel.

Daryl held the door for you and you cringed at how everyone’s eyes were on you immediately as you stepped out onto the porch. You avoided them and started heading in the direction of your camp. Daryl was still in step beside you and you hazarded a glance in his direction.

He could read a question in your eyes. “I’ll keep ya company for a bit if that’s alright... Besides, ya should be restin’ and somebody needs to make sure ya take care of yourself.” You didn’t say anything, but that also wasn’t a refusal. Daryl could tell you were still reeling a bit, and he wanted to be there just in case.

You arrived at your separate camp area and watched as Daryl immediately went and stirred up the coals in the fire, adding more wood and soon having a nice blaze going. You headed for your tent and glanced back over your shoulder at him. “Just gonna change,” you said softly. He nodded and went about heating something for you to eat along with water for tea. He was sure you had collected more ingredients and remembered that your bag was still sitting at his camp. He jogged to grab it and brought it back along with your bloodied and torn shirt, not sure what else to do with it. When he got back, you were sitting by the fire in clean and comfortable clothes, his shirt resting over your lap. You held it out to him as he dropped your pack beside you.

“Thanks,” he murmured. The fabric was still warm from your body. “Dunno what ya wanna do with this,” he said, holding yours out in turn.

You stared at it for a long moment before your fingers closed on it and Daryl watched as you immediately tossed it into the fire. In a moment, it was only ashes and embers. He sank down beside you and felt you studying him. He turned and met your eyes and was surprised when you spoke. “You aren’t afraid of me now? Like the others?” you asked softly.

“Nah. Why would I be?”

Your striking eyes focused back on the crackling campfire and the embers dancing upward on the warm torrent of air. “You saw what I did. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Daryl peered at you curiously for a long moment. “Ya were only protectin’ yourself. Can’t say I wouldn’t have done worse if I’d been there,” he drawled, and you could hear anger in the tension in his voice.

“I blacked out,” you said suddenly.

“When they hit ya? Ya, yer gonna have a good bruise tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I mean.” You cradled your injured hand absently in the other. “The last thing I remember was the one starting to cut my jeans and then—then I was just covered in blood and they were all dead. And next thing I know you were taking my knife from me.” You shut your eyes for a moment. “I don’t remember anything else.”

Daryl considered the regretful expression on your face. “Don’t matter. Yer safe. That’s what counts. Those men? They had it comin’.”

You looked up at him in surprise and he simply nodded and then grabbed a mug and filled it with hot water for you. You accepted it and dug into your bag, pulling out the small sack of foraged herbs from the day. You dropped a few berries and leaves into your mug and cradled it with your uninjured hand.

It was nearly sunset and the quality of the light was cooling, oranges turning to reds and then fading into deep purples and inky blues. You allowed yourself to frequently study the archer as he shoved a bowl of reheated stew into your hands or added more wood to the fire. You felt surprisingly at ease with him there and he didn’t seem at all bothered by the passing of so much silence. Maybe the concussion just had you slightly numb, but you didn’t think so.

“You aren’t going to ask me?” you finally said.

Daryl looked over at you and he felt a stirring in his chest at the way the firelight was catching the shine and colors in your hair and the soft shape of your lips. “Ask ya what?”

“How I—Why I—” You didn’t even know how to phrase it really.

Daryl watched you struggled for a moment. “Ain’t none of my business. But if ya wanted to talk about it, I’ll listen. Not gonna lie and say I haven’t wondered about what came before ya were with the group.”

You had been on the verge of speaking it but suddenly lost your nerve and sipped at your tea again. Daryl watched you withdrawing again and rubbed a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. Darkness had fallen completely now. “Well, I’ll leave ya alone. Yer probably sick of me anyway,” he drawled. “Get some rest, alright?” Daryl had climbed to his feet and started to head in the direction of his own tent but your voice froze him.

“It’s not that I want to be alone all the time…” Daryl could hear the crackling of the fire in the silence that followed. “It’s just that alone usually feels safer.”

He glanced back at you, turning partially. “Ya. I know the feelin’,” he said gently, pacing back.

You looked up at him and something about your expression, your wide eyes, went straight to his core. “Stay,” you said quietly. “Please.” You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “Being with you feels safer…” you admitted, timidly.

Daryl felt an ache in his chest and nodded. He grabbed a seat beside you again and puzzled over this unprecedented turn of events.

You seemed to come to some decision suddenly and looked over at him intensely. He caught your eyes briefly and then watched as you pushed up your right sleeve. At first all he saw were the knife cuts, crimson against your skin, but you turned your forearm toward him in the firelight. “This is what I didn’t want you to see,” you said. You gulped. You’d never told anyone, never shown anyone, literally never talked about what had happened to you since you got out. You’d vowed that you would just move on, but the longer you suffered in silence the worse it seemed to get, until you felt like it would consume you. And then today, with those men, you’d just completely lost it. It had triggered something, a memory or maybe more like a nightmare, and when you came to you were bathed in blood and didn’t even recognize yourself, couldn’t believe what you’d done. Enough was enough. Maybe if you spoke it, admitted it, dealt with it in some way… maybe it’d get easier.

Daryl stared at a scar on your forearm. It looked like a brand and the skin was still slightly pink, showing that it wasn’t that old. It was four numbers. 1048.

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles

[vdlest]

You matter

Characters:

Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary:

You and Bucky together with the other Avengers went to Florida for a mission. When your ex-suitor were also in the same area, your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes, is triggered by your ex's words. How can you make him feel better?

Warning:

Jealousy

A little bit of smut

Swearing

You and the rest of the Avengers are staying in the safehouse for a few days now. This mission lasts longer than you think. But since you are in a mission with your Bucky, everything seems alright. However, things became off-handed between you and Bucky upon the arrival of your ex-suitor, Frank, who is currently working under Stark Industries.

It turns out that Frank has been living in Florida for quite some time now, so Stark thought he'd be useful to this mission. On the other hand, you haven't seen Frank since high school and you must admit that you also liked him back then, but that's not important anymore since you're happy with your relationship with Bucky.

Speaking of Bucky, the guy clearly doesn't like Frank that much. He hates it when he is too confident when talking to you and the rest of the team. It's like he's showing you that he is better than Bucky, but you have no care or concern about how he thinks. All that matters to you are your work as an Avenger, your friends, and the love of your life.

"Sir, the information I gave you could be accurate if only Mr. Barnes here did not intervened and change the strategic plan I made based on my research," Frank said.

Everyone is in the dinning room for a meeting of what happened in yesterday's tasks.

"Excuse me," Bucky glared at Frank as he points himself, "Are you seriously blaming me for your inaccurate research?" he asked then he chuckled, "I am not the one who made that research, boy. So whether I intervened or not, your strategic plan could've worked out."

Whenever Frank and Bucky would be in the same room, a heated argument should be expected.

"Enough," Steve stopped Bucky and Frank, "We should just think of something else. We're running out of time already," he pointed out.

"Y/n and I could sneak off the building tomorrow morning and we'll give access to Barton and Banner," Wanda suggested.

"Yeah, I think the only way to get this mission done and over with is to use the "disguise & sneak off" tactic," you added in support of Wanda's suggestion. You turned to Steve, "Once Barton and Banner are in to hack the security system, the rest of you can take it from there."

Steve seemed to like your plan so he nodded and asked all of you to get the rest you all need because you have an early day tomorrow.

You left the dinning room alongside with the other Avengers, while Steve, Tony, Bruce, Clint, and Bucky are left inside the dinning room to finish their whiskeys that they started before the meeting. You're about to go to the kitchen to grab something to drink with Wanda and Nat when Frank approaches you.

"Hey Nat, Wanda, go ahead and find something to drink. I'll go catch up," you said to Wanda and Nat, they gave you a nod. Wanda gave you a warning look, she knows how jealousy and Bucky don't match up well enough. You faced Frank, "Hey, you need somethin'?" you asked him.

Frank smiled at you, "I was wondering if you want to go and visit a few places the day after tomorrow and before you and your friends go back home," he proposed.

You didn't want to be rude but you are not clearly into him anymore and you know that he isn't the guy you want to be with in visiting tourist places here in Florida. It's Bucky.

You clicked your tongue, "That's a very nice offer Frank, but I don't think it's a good idea."

His face turned into a disappointment, "It's Bucky, isn't it?"

You nodded, "Frank, Bucky and I are together. He's my boyfriend. I know things were pretty well between us during high school, but we didn't make it because it wasn't meant to be at all. So, let's just be friends and stay like that." You wanted to tell him about this since you got here in Florida, but he keeps on disregarding whatever you say about your relationship with Bucky.

Unknown to you, Bucky's near both of you and can actually hear your conversation with Frank.

"But y/n..." Frank moved closer to you and held both of your arms, "...he was a killer. He's the winter soldier. He killed millions of people."

You moved a step back away from him, making you free from his hands. You gave him a disbelief look upon moving away from him.

"You don't know him, Frank," you shook your head and glared at him, "You don't know who Bucky is. You may know him as the winter soldier but it wasn't him. He didn't have a choice when he did those awful things. He is the love of my life and the bad things you're telling me about him won't change how I feel for him. First of all, you have no right to judge him. You have no idea who he is."

Before Frank could say anything in reply to you, Bucky approached both of you. He stood besidd you as he give Frank a death defying stare.

"Say another word and I will break your neck. You'll see the winter soldier you are telling y/n about," Bucky said.

"See, y/n!" Frank said as he waved his hand to motion towards Bucky, "He killed lots of people from the past and he could do it again! He's a threat to your life, he's a threat to every man's life!"

You saw Bucky clenched his jaw and how his knuckles been wanting to punch Frank's face, but you immediately put your hands on his shoulder to calm him down. Steve, Tony, Bruce, and Clint came out of the dinning room and were already sensing not so good things between Bucky and Frank.

"Frank, I don't think it's advisable to go across my pal," Steve said as he drag Frank away from Bucky.

"Wait, Steve," you stopped Steve from dragging Frank away. You walked towards Frank and held him in his collar, his feet can't even touch the ground anymore as you lift him up in the air, "Bucky is not the winter soldier, he never was and he never will be. Put that in your mind. You understand?" when he did not answr you, you tightened your grip on him, "Do you understand?!" you repeated.

"Yeah, yeah! I understand." he answered.

The moment you put Frank down, Steve and Clint dragged him outside and talked to him.

You turned around to face Bucky, but when you're about to approach him, he walked away and went straight to your room.

"He's still sensitive about the winter soldier thing," Stark said behind you. He taps your shoulder before making his way to the kitchen where Nat and Wanda are, "You should go and talk to him. Make out after," he joked.

•••

You did not have to knock on the door of the room that you and Bucky shared in the safehouse, it is open and it is also your room anyway. When you entered the room, you found him near the window, staring outside and you could feel that he's thinking of something.

"You know what Tony asked me to do after I talked to you?" you closed the door behind you and rested your back against it, "He said we should make out."

It was just you, trying to lighten up the mood.

But he did not even dare to look at you. He is just staring at the glass window and what's outside.

"Bucky," you walked towards the edge of the bed, which is only a few inches away from where he is standing, "You know he's just trying to tear us apart. Whatever he said was all a lie," you reached for his hand to make him face you.

His eyes met yours, making you see how Frank's stupid and baseless words affected him. He has always been sensitive when someone is bringing up his past. He is not denying the fact that it was part of his past, but he also know that it wasn't him anymore.

You put his hand on your cheeks and leave a few kisses on his palm while your eyes are still with him, "No matter what happened in the past, it doesn't dictates who you are now. You are a different person from who was inside your head before. It doesn't even matter what happened in the past, only you and I matter. You matters, only you. So please, stop doing this to yourself over and over again," you said, almost in a pleading voice.

"I'm not affected by the fact that people are still seeing me as the winter soldier or who I was before, but I..." he kneel in front of you as he grabbed both of your hands, "...I am asking myself if I really do deserve you."

"You what?" you asked and you shook your head, "Bucky, come on. We're really doing this shitty conversation? Of course you deserve me. When you and I became a couple, there's not a day or any time of the day that I'd find myself smiling like a fool. Whenever you're out of my sight, in a mission or something, I'd find myself longing for you, your hug..." you pulled him towards you as you lay on the bed and putting him on top of you, "...your touch, and most of all..." you twisted your finger in his dog tag and pulled him closer to you, "...your kiss." you said before you kissed him on his lips.

You didn't have to wait, he kissed you back as soon as he felt your lips against his.

You found yourself deepening the kiss both of you are sharing, and few seconds later his hand moved to your waist and the vibranium one removed strands of hair blocking your face.

He pulled from your kisses as he caresses your face, "How did I get so damn lucky to have you, y/n?" he asked as he look into your eyes deeply.

You smiled, "We're both of lucky. We'll talk about your cocky attitude later, but for now..." you pushed yourself up and push him on the bed as you straddle him on his waist, "...I need you to do me."

He smiled as he pull your shirt up, undressing you and leaving you on your brassiere, "Oh, on the contrary..." he pulled himself up and unclasps your bra, "...I'm the only person who deserves you."

You grin but before you could say anything, he kisses you and claims your lips like a hungry beast and you're his last meal. While he's busy ravishing you with his lips, your hands are busy unbuttoning his shirt, but when you ran out of patience, you just rip it off.

Upon hearing the shattering sound of fabrics, he stopped kissing you, surprised with your aggressiveness, "Did you also learned that from Nat?" he asked.

You chuckled, "No, I learned that with you, asshole. Now stop talking, just do the work."

He pinned you against the bed, feeling the matress behind you as he slowly tug your pants down alongside with your panties.

"Spread your legs for me, and let me taste you, my love."

You obliged and spread your legs to the hungry man in front of you.

"This is gonna be a long night, so hang on and let me make it up to you," he said before he went down between your legs, remembering that Tony told you to make out, but you ended up doing a lot more. MORE.

-v.dl

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky Barnes x You #Bucky Barnes x Y/N #bucky barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes imagine #Marvel #Marvel imagine #Marvel fanfiction

[rosierin]

Shinsuke de Hyōgo

this was initially supposed to be for valentine's day- whoops—

a cyrano de bergerac inspired one-shot featuring an oblivious kita, chaotic miya twins and a wheezing suna.

paring: kita x fem!reader

genre: honestly crack, but with a romantic ending

word count: 3.9k

It was a pleasant summer day to be sat in the park. Evening had fallen, the air was sweet, complete silence surrounded them; all the ideal factors conducive to a perfect confession. And what better way to do it then while watching the sunset after a classic date at a high end restaurant.

Kita and (y/n) had known each other since middle school and had been friends from pretty much day one. 

It was the sort of friendship that had started thanks to proximity; they lived nearby, shared a class, and continued because of their complimentary personalities. Kita had always been the more reserved type, so (y/n)'s outgoing personality had been a refreshing add-on to his life. It wasn't the same type of outgoing as the older Miya twin either; unlike him she knew of things such as discretion and respect of one's personal boundaries. She knew how to make him smile and her presence had always given him a sense of security and peace that only resonated within her. It was only a matter of time until he began developing feelings for her and as soon as their last year of high school came about, that's when he finally built up the courage to ask her out

Tonight however was different. He wanted to take the next step further, for through years of accumulated infatuation, Kita had never been surer about his feelings for (y/n). He knew it was more than just a crush, more than any old, fleeting feeling one could experience such as a romance built over summer. Rather, what Kita felt he knew was real and tonight was the night he would put those feelings into words.

"(Y/n)." Years of yearning to say everything he'd kept hidden, ready to be told at last.

"Hm?" She turned her head, shifting her gaze from the golden sun and focusing on Kita, a smile on her face.

He took a deep breath.

"I love you."

Silence.

For some reason, his words seemed to hang heavy on the warm summer breeze and all of a sudden, the setting no longer felt so comfortable. In fact, Kita began to feel the exact opposite. Did silences after a confession always take this long? And was it just him, a trick of the light or was she... Frowning?

He pursed his lips. That's it, he'd done something wrong. Was it the tone of his voice? Had he came off as too authoritative? Or cold? His aloofness had never seemed to bother her beforehand though... Gosh. He couldn't remember the last time his hands felt this clammy. Not even his first volleyball game had made this anxious. He swallowed down his dry throat. Patience, Kita. Patience. Good things come to those who wait, his grandma always said. Perhaps she had just gotten shy.

"Oh-"

Oh? Was.. Was that all? 

A million and one questions rushed through his head at her response, or rather lack of. No mind Kita, just move onto a different subject, he told himself.

He cleared his throat and hastily tried stringing a coherent sentence together in his head, rushing to kill the oppressing silence, and admittedly, it took him a fair amount of willpower not to stumble over his own words.

"I- erm. Would ya like to do this again next week?"

He didn't miss the way she bit her lip at his question, that simple act alone being enough to make his heart sink. 

"Oh!" She exclaimed, somewhat regaining a bit more liveliness to her demeanor. But Kita had known her long enough to tell that there was a lack of sincerity behind that smile; it was the kind she pulled when Atsumu had told her a joke but was too polite to tell him it was terrible. "Erm, well, I'll have to let you know about that. You know, with homework and whatnot," she chuckled dryly. "You know how it can be." 

"Of course," Kita nodded, politely and as naturally as he could be without looking like he was about to melt through the bars of the wooden bench. "I understand if yer busy."

"Yep! Gotta keep them grades up."

"Mhmm." 

"...."

Another silence filled the air, save for the occasional cricket chirping in the distance. It lasted for a good three minutes, until (y/n) suddenly got up and turned towards the still sitting Kita. 

"Well, thank you for this evening, Shin. I think I'm gonna head home for now, it's getting a bit late. Wouldn't want my mum to worry, y'know?"

Then, he stood up and wiped his sweaty hands on his slacks. "Yeah, no, it's no problem." He offered a tiny smile as (y/n) leaned in to lightly peck his cheek. 

"Goodnight," she smiled.

A nod. Then, she was gone. 

"G'night."

Yep. Something had definitely gone wrong.

˚。⋆.˚。⋆.˚。⋆.

The next day, Kita went to tell everything to his team. He had debated for a long time whether or not it was a good idea, but the way the whole exchange had went in addition to the image of (y/n)'s scrunched up features and uneasiness had kept him up at night. He needed to know what the problem was, that or he feared he wouldn't be able to focus at all for the next... Well, that was exactly the problem— he didn't know when or how he would be able to function if he didn't get any answers. And admittedly, he knew the twins would have more experience in the relationship department than he did— not that that was very difficult since (y/n) had been his first love— but whatever the case may be, unfortunately they were his only hope.

"Well? How'd ya date go?" Asked Atsumu as he finished setting the ball to his twin brother.

"About that. I think I messed it up." 

A loud bang followed Kita's words in result of Osamu's powerful spike. 

"Why, what happened?" He asked. "Ya didn't make her pay the bill for ya, did ya?"

"No, I paid," Kita said, shaking his head. "I said 'I love you.'"

At this, both twins put their practice on hold to glance at each other. Atsumu propped the ball under his arm and raised a questioning brow at his captain.

"Is that it?"

"Well...yeah."

Osamu's expression mimicked his brothers; a mix between confusion and apprehension.

"Well, what didja say beforehand?" He then asked. Kita blinked. This time, it was his turn to feel confused. 

"Nothin'. That's all I said." 

An awkward silence settled between the three teammates as they shared a round of dumbfounded looks. Even Suna who was busy practicing his serves further down the court had stopped to listen in on the conversation.

"Ya mean ta' say ya confessed to her outta the blue?" Atsumu asked, his lip twitching upward. Now at this point, Kita was truly at a loss. Were the twins implying that he had done it wrong?

"Ain't that what girls wanna hear?"

A splutter echoed somewhere down the court— Suna. He was clutching his sides and laughing openly before shaking his head and serving the ball on the other side of the court and for some reason, Kita felt like his cheeks had grown very warm.

"Well I mean- yeah, but there's a whole process to it! Ya don't just blurt out 'I love ya' 'cause ya feel like it. It's the buildup she's waitin' for," Atsumu explained through a lazy grin.

"But it wasn't just 'cause I felt like it," Kita argued, somewhat perplexed. "I meant it- And we've known each other for years."

"I know, but still. I'm sure she was expectin' somethin' a little more than just three words, ya know? I mean it's as ya said, you've known eachother since middle school! By now she probably expects a full novel from ya!" 

"A full novel?" Kita echoed. Well that seemed like overkill.

"Maybe not that much," Osamu stepped in, "but 'Tsumu's right. I think ya left her feelin' a little underwhelmed."

His captain pondered over his words.

Underwhelmed? Really? But what more could she want? His words were precise, sincere, meaningful. Granted they were only three words, but how else could he possibly express his feelings for (y/n) when that's all he could think to say? He knew other words than love: adore, cherish, admire... But wouldn't it have been the same if he'd used one of those words instead? They all meant more or less the same thing.

"So what am I supposed to do?" 

At that, the twins exchanged a look, and Kita could've sworn he saw both of them surpress a smirk as they held their silent conversation. However before Kita could question, Atsumu piped up.

"We'll gladly help ya with yer romance problems cap'n. But on one condition," he started. Kita raised his brow expectedly. 

"We're off cleanin' duties for three months if ya succeed in wooin' yer lady," Osamu finished, the mischivous glint in his eyes reflecting that of his older twins'. One tended to forget just how cunning Osamu is seeing as it was usually Atsumu who got labelled as the naughtier twin. But it was in times like these where Kita was reminded just how similar those two really were.

"One month," Kita objected.

"Two months," they chorused.

"Six, full weeks."

The twins glanced at each other, mulled over his answer briefly before turning to him and nodding once, twin smiles splitting their faces in a way that practically screamed trouble. "Deal." 

Oh well, there was no backing down now. But oddly enough, Kita couldn't help himself from feeling that he had just made a pact with Inarizaki's two, conniving little devils.

˚。⋆.˚。⋆.˚。⋆.

"This doesn't seem like a very foolproof plan, Miyas," Kita droned as he eyed the twins who stood underneath his loved one's balcony.

Atsumu scoffed. "What? Sure it is! You'll see, we've got this whole thing under control!"

"Just leave it ta' us," Osamu smirked.

"Leave it to us." If Kita could think of one sentence he didn't want to hear from the twins, it was that. Perhaps on the court, during practice, then yes, maybe Kita would accept putting his trust in his two teammates. But when stood below (y/n)'s balcony, dressed in a full suit and tie and holding a bouquet of roses, Kita couldn't have felt more out of place. 

"Now c'mon, get her attention!" Atsumu urged, voice low as to not be heard while he made obscure hand mouvements in Kita's direction.

The latter stood stiffly and looked left and right, clueless as to what to do. "How?" 

"Use a pebble or somethin'!" 

This time the captain sighed and reluctantly began his search for said pebble. He knew this idea was stupid and honestly, debated on whether or not he should just go home and call it quits. It was late, already way past evening hours and he couldn't imagine what people would think if they saw him lurking around a girl's house at this time of night, not to mention in the company of two other boys huddled under her balcony. It was freakin' weird. 

Luckily, not many people lived around these parts, meaning he needn't worry about the eyes of others on him as he readied himself to launch a small pebble against (y/n)'s closed window.

Clink. 

No response. 

"What now? Should I wait?" Kita asked as he tried peering into the window. The lights were still on, meaning she hadn't gone to bed yet.

"Nah, try another," Atsumu whispered as he jerked his head in direction of more pebbles. 

"Why am I doing this...." Kita murmured to himself as he reluctantly bent down to pick up another. 

"'Cause ya love 'er.' Osamu whispered regardless from somewhere in the shadows. Another sigh. Yes, he was right, he did love her, and that fact alone was enough to give Kita a motivation boost in order to go through with this far-fetched, Miya concocted plan.

Two more pebbles were launched at (y/n)'s window shortly after this exchange, and it was on the third one that she finally opened up her window, only for her to wince when it knocked her square on the forehead. 

A fit of strangled chortles could be heard beneath the balcony.

"Ouchie- The heck— Shinsuke?" 

As she peered down over her balcony, Kita suddenly felt his chest constrict at the sight of her; damp hair and clad in her summer nightwear and it was only then that it occurred to him that she had just gotten out the shower.

A quiet whistle followed by a low chuckle made Kita stiffen— the Miyas. Had they no shame? 

"...Shut yer traps."

"What?" (Y/n)'s voice suddenly sounded above his head. She was smiling, thankfully. At least she wasn't upset or angry at him for showing up so late. "I uh- sorry, I can't really hear you from up here. Do you want to just come in?" She asked. 

Kita frantically looked at the twins though kept it concealed behind his best vacant expression. They vehemently shook their heads. "It'll ruin the effect," the elder one whispered.

Kita cleared his throat. "Erm, no. No, thank you. Speakin' with ya from here is just fine." 

"Accent! Yer accent!" Atsumu called, quietly while his brother made a cross sign with his arms. Kita discreetly nodded.

"It is far too much of a lovely evening to be locked up inside. It would be a shame not to make the most of it, don't you think?" 

At this, (y/n) merely blinked, somewhat innocently before a small smile pulled at her lips. It must be working, Kita thought. He looked at the twins for affirmation, and when they flashed him an enthusiastic thumbs up, Kita couldn't have felt prouder. It served as encouragement for him to continue. 

"What's all this?" (Y/n) giggled as she nodded towards Kita's attire and flowers, amusement clear on her moonlit features. 

"For thou, my dear!" Kita's usually monotone voice carried across the deserted streets— courtesy of Atsumu's indications. He glanced at him once, listened to his next words before nodding and adopting his same, Shakespearean stance: "A grand gesture, though only a mere token of my affection for if you spare me just a second of your time I shall attempt to articulate the sentiments I have been harbouring for you over the past hundreds of moons!"

"Hundreds of moons?" (Y/n) echoed as she peered down at him from her balcony, lips curling, eyebrows raising. "My, that is a long time!" She marvelled as she leaned further over the balcony, arms folded neatly upon its surface. From where Kita stood, she appeared as a curious cat as she eyed him with all the interest in the world, lips upturned into a mischievous smirk. "But please by all means, I would love to hear these articulated, harboured sentiments of yours."

A pang of worry overcame Kita as (y/n) watched him expectedly. Luckily, he had the twins to lean on. He glanced over at the space under the balcony and saw Osamu motioning to him despite Atsumu's protests. He whispered the following:

"Of course. For (y/n), not only do I love you, I adore you. These sentiments I detain for you are eternal. Like a fruit, our love will be endless; transversing all seasons and growing stronger as the years go by.

To me, you are nothing short of perfection. You're radiant through rain and shine, and I can't help but fathom how lucky I would be, to have you by my side for a hundred moons more."

A smile graced Kita's lips as he repeated Osamu's speech and he was pleasantly surprised by its outcome. For you see, Osamu's speech was simple. It was modulated and concise. He didn't beat around the bush, nor did he use his body to speak. All in all, one could call Osamu's speech effortless. And as the words flowed from Kita's lips, (y/n) appeared bewitched by their appeal.

Now as for Atsumu, he spoke from the heart. Through his ardent words, one could call him cheesy, over theatrical or perhaps even someone who was trying a little too hard. Though through Kita's knowing eyes, all he saw was the same passionate and spirited boy he saw on the court— like love incarnate. And the fire lit in (y/n)'s eyes only served as proof of their efficiency.

However, as elaborate and as heartfelt as his words may be, this only made them harder to relay and much to Kita's distress, he found himself looking over at him more times than he'd ought to. Luckily for him, his twin brother was there, whispering back whenever words escaped him, filling in the blanks.

This little tactic of theirs continued for another ten minutes or so, but as much as Kita wished for it to work, a Miya-elaborated plan could only go so far, Kita should've known that. 

He was midway through his speech when Osamu suddenly stopped speaking and the whispering under the balcony got louder. 

"Stupid 'Samu. I wasn't done speakin'!" 

"So what? She's probably gettin' bored of yer lines anyway." 

"Yeah? Not yer stupid, food related love metaphors?" 

"Rather that than a discount, Shakespearian rip-off."

"Alright. that's it."

Kita paled. 

He watched, utterly mortified when Osamu suddenly pounced on his twin and never in his life had Kita experienced such a drastic change of emotions. He tried subtly getting their attention through shuffles of feet and discreet glances, however it was useless. Without the twins' help, it was only a matter of time until his speech began losing coherency, dying out until it was reduced to silence. 

He didn't dare look (y/n) in the eye after that.

"Shinsuke? Are you alright?" 

"I, er. It seems I have lost my touch," he spoke, ruefully.

"Oh? Don't tell me you regret your heartfelt confession," she teased.

"O' course not!" Kita replied, his voice teetering into a shout. A mix of guilt and embarrassment had made him unable to detect the playful lilt to (y/n)'s voice and thus the unexpected raise of his voice made everyone's head turn, including the twins. He saw (y/n)'s face fall into a look of bemusement, and sighed quietly under his breath as he recollected himself. "No. It's not that..." 

Once again, everything became still. The twins had finally stopped their bickering picked themselves off the ground. And, as they caught a glimpse of their friends' dejected, downcast gaze, they looked at each other before casting him an apologetic look. They tried whispering to him some more but this time Kita refused to listen. Instead he released another, longer sigh, then looked back up at the balcony to meet (y/n)'s gaze.

"Listen (y/n), I'm sorry. Everythin' I said before was true, 'cept it doesn't mean anythin' since none of it came from me." 

He paused for a moment in case (y/n) wanted to speak and simply regarded her, trying to make sense of her current unreadable expression. She didn't appear angry or sad, but blank as though she was anticipating his next words.

He took this as a sign to pursue his speech.

"I was so darn worried after the other night that I asked the twins for their help. They said ya didn't like my confession so I wanted to do it right. I understand why it was weird to just confess outta the blue but I just didn't know how else to say everythin' that was on my heart."

"I don't wear my heart on my sleeve like Atsumu does, and I'm not much of a smooth talker. My words are usually harsh and cold— I know that because I overheard the Miyas and Suna talk about it instead of practicing."

The twins promptly gulped but he heared (y/n) giggle. It brought a tiny smile to his face.

"But I mean it when I say I love ya. It took me a while to get there, but actually I think I've always loved ya. I'm sorry I couldn't think of a better way to say it." 

Kita let out a long breath as he finished his last words and like magic, his chest suddenly felt a lot lighter. He kept his eyes trained on (y/n)'s face, wondering if perhaps what he had said was enough, and when her face melted into an affectionate smile, he swore he'd never seen anything sweeter.

"You're so sweet, Shin. I love you, too!" 

I love you, too. 

Warmth bloomed in Kita's chest. Finally the four, little words he'd been longing to hear had greeted his ears. They sounded sweeter than anything he could've imagined. But then again, everything was when it stemmed from her, if it was enounced through her voice.

A series of coos erupted from the shadows and that's when Kita was reminded that he and (y/n) had not in fact been alone. Heat rushed to Kita's pale cheeks as (y/n) emitted a small squeak and she peered over her balcony in attempts of spotting the two perpetrators. 

"Hold on, are the twins here right now?!" 

Kita pinched the bridge of his nose, ashamed as he watched the twins sheepishly creep out from the gloom.

"Hey, (y/n)!" Atsumu beamed as he and his twin waved. "Fancy seeing ya here!"

Osamu sighed and lightly tugged at his collar. "It's her house, dumbass.." 

"...Right-"

At this point, Kita was just about ready to tell the twins to go home, but just as he parted his lips to chide them, (y/n) erupted into another fit of giggles. 

"Now I see why the speeches were so lame." 

Atsumu gasped, affronted, and Osamu pouted. "Lame?! Wh— How dare ya!" The former yelled.

"Yeah. Well actually, at least the part about the fruit was cute," (y/n) hummed.

Another gasp, a low chuckle.

"Told ya she'd like it."

"Shut it, 'Samu! I was gonna say somethin' similar, ya just beat me to it!" 

An affectionate roll of the eyes from (y/n) followed the twins' bickering and even in spite of the ridiculousness of the situation, Kita found himself smiling at them despite himself. 

"Why don't you come inside?" (Y/n) asked, nodding her head to the front door of her house below. "I'll go make some tea." 

Kita nodded with a smile. "Yer the best."

"I know~" (Y/n) blew Kita a playful kiss as she retreated into her bedroom, leaving Kita and the twins at her doorstep.

However, he noticed that traces of bashfulness remained evident on the Twins' features, and they fidgeted as they stood side by side next to the entrance of (y/n)'s door. 

"I'm pretty sure she was talkin' about you too." 

Immediately, their faces perked up and the usual brightness in their eyes returned in a matter of seconds. Then, together they entered (y/n)'s house, the twins hot on Kita's heels.

"So..." Atsumu began, "Do we still get those six weeks off or—"

"Don't push yer luck, Miya."

Atsumu nodded. Osamu cleared his throat. 

"Understandable."

Kita shut the door behind them.

#anime #haikyuu!! #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyu x reader #kita shinsuke #shinsuke x you #hq shinsuke #haikyuu shinsuke #hq osamu #osamu miya #miya osamu #haikyuu osamu #hq atsumu #hq x reader #hq anime #haikyu!! #valentines #valentine's day #comedy

[buckysbabygorl]

Rumours (Part 2)

Summary: Since the reader’s and Bucky’s last interaction, things have been awkward. Bucky refuses to admit his feelings, and Y/N overhears something she’s not supposed to. Will it ruin things between them forever?

Warnings: swearing, smut, angst

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,536

Part 1

After the crew of the Avengers compound suffered an extremely guilt wrenching lecture by Captain Rogers, the rumours had finally started to die down. Everyone was either paying more attention to their work or moving on to some new gossip.

Barnes and L/N however had not moved on.

Neither of them had spoken of their little… moment since it had happened.

Of course, both of them had tried to but they were either getting interrupted or chickening-out at the last second.

It felt hopeless at this point in both ends: they tried to accept that maybe they should just let it be.

But the truth of the situation was; they were scared to hear what the other had to say. Had they regretted it? Was it just the heat of the moment?

“I just don’t know what she wants,” Bucky admitted to Steve, “And I’m scared asking her about it will freak her out or somethin’...”

Steve nodded, tapping at the table in front of him. He wasn’t sure what further advice to give him at this point; Bucky had been catastrophizing, set on the idea that whatever he brought up to her would invoke the worst result. Steve could understand the fear, but Buck wasn’t admitting where the fear really lies.

“Well, what do you want Buck?”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he looked at his friend.

“What do you mean?”

Steve sighed, “This whole conversation, all you’ve talked about is what Y/N is thinking. You don’t know how she feels and it’s freaking you out.”

Bucky nodded, still curious about where Steve was headed.

“You haven’t talked once about how you feel.”

Bucky shrugged and raised his hands slightly in question, “What does that matter? Besides, you know how I feel.”

Steve bit his lip at Bucky’s statement. Yes, he knew exactly how Bucky felt. Everyone knew how he felt. The only people that didn’t know how Bucky actually felt were Bucky and Y/N.

Barnes had always insisted that he and Y/N were just friends, but it didn’t translate into his actions. He doted on her constantly; on his hardest days it was Y/N that brought him out of his slump and got his head screwed on straight. Which was something that Steve even struggled with nowadays. Steve had known Bucky all his life, he knew Bucky was in love with Y/N. He just couldn’t see it.

Steve didn’t know if it was right to tell him. Bucky had to learn to relive his life on his own, Steve couldn’t stand behind him through everything. Battle, sure. Nightmares, of course. But Bucky had to learn to maintain his relationships, Steve couldn’t interfere with that.

“Oh come on, you feel nothing for her? You wouldn’t care this much if you didn’t.”

Bucky and Steve turned, noticing Stark entering the common area. Bucky grit his teeth, the last person he wanted hearing this conversation was Tony. Their relationship had gotten better since Barnes joined the team, but they still rubbed each other the wrong way. Tony knew exactly how to push his buttons; riling him up in mere seconds. This situation was no different.

“Fuck off Stark, I didn’t ask your opinion.”

Tony scoffed as he leaned forward and placed his hands on their table.

“Well maybe don’t have private conversations in public areas, anyone could have walked in on this.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, already annoyed with Stark’s presence. He was just getting stuff off his chest, he didn’t need a life lesson. Especially not from the World’s Greatest Man-Child of the Century.

“Besides, my opinion is the only one that’s going to hold any weight at this point; Steve’s not going to be straight up with you because he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Bucky scoffed in disbelief, but when he looked to Steve he could see in his eyes just how right Tony was.

Bucky felt a bubble form in his throat; his shoulders now heavy and stiff; upset that even his best friend thought what he’d said was nothing but bullshit.

In fact, everyone thought it was bullshit. Bucky figured that his word was at least worth something around here, but it was clear it wasn’t.

He understood why everyone thought this way; Y/N and him were close, practically partners in crime. It couldn’t be helped; they just clicked. She wavered between rowdy and stable in the same way he did. One part strong and stoic; the other part open and sensitive. They had the same humour, the same beliefs; their brains were practically in sync.

It was hard enough recognizing what a great person she was: and on top of this Bucky was constantly reminded of how beautiful she was. Not only when he looked at her but every time he talked to someone about her.

“Any man would be lucky to have her”, so why wasn’t he taking his opportunity?

Bucky had considered it, how could he not? She was perfect for him. In another life, in another profession, sure.

But what if something was to happen to him on the field? Or her? What about disrupting the team?

But the worst issue of it all; what if she didn’t see him that way?

The fear of rejection, and the idea of losing anything he developed with her was enough for Bucky to drop his considerations for something more; there was too much to lose.

Bucky had let it go months ago, it was time for them to do the same.

“Screw you.”

Tony raised his hands in defense, a pompous smirk pulling at his lip.

“Hey, I’m just being honest. The longer you brood about this, the less of a shot you have. You know how many people she’s had to turn down at the compound?”

Bucky’s jaw set as his hands clenched to fists on the table. Don’t fucking remind me...

“Oh what, did that strike a nerve? See, if you were just honest about your feelings we could fi-”

“I don’t have any fucking feelings Tony. My god, how much longer do we have to keep telling you guys there’s nothing between us. Fuck I don’t even find her attractive.”

Bucky was starting to yell. Steve ushered him to quiet down, but Bucky slammed his hand on the table as he pointed to him with the other.

“There’s nothing there, nothing’s going to happen. It pisses me off how much you guys obsess about it. I’ve never seen Y/N that way, and I never will.”

The only thing breaking the silence that struck the room was the sound of Bucky’s breathing. Steve looked at Tony in shock. Hdidn't know what to think, barely recognizing the man that sat before him. What happened to the risk taker, what happened to the confident charmer from Brooklyn all those years ago?

Tony shook his head, fingers drumming as he turned away from the angry soldier in front of him.

“Fine, whatever you say. Just know that when you lose her; it’s no one's fault but your own. She’s worth more than you’ll ever realize; and so is what you two have. I had it with Pepper; Steve had it with Peggy. You’re gonna miss your person kid; that’s on you.”

The two men didn’t look up as he left; the weight of Stark’s words hanging in the air long after his departure.

~

“Miserable fuck,” Tony mumbled as he rounded the corner.

As Y/N stood in the hallway just outside the kitchen, Bucky’s words echoed in her mind.

I’ve never seen Y/N that way, and I never will.

Wonderful.

So all those stupid rumours lead up to nothing. That moment between them meant nothing. And all that worry spent on whether or not Buck would see her normally after she admitted her feelings? Well, that was also nothing.

She thought of entering the room and making her presence known; but she knew that wouldn’t do her any good.

She couldn’t hide herself as Tony appeared, nearly smacking into her as he did.

At realizing her presence, Tony started to greet her. But his face morphed as it dawned on him that she heard everything that had just been said.

“Shit—kid I’m sorr—“

Y/N lifted a hand, silencing him.

“Don’t be. He’s right, it’s time we all dropped this shit anyway. It was funny for a while but now it’s just—“

Tony pursed his lips; she held her composure, but he knew how it looked when someone tried to conceal their truth. Conceal their pain.

“You heard what he said; there’s nothing there.”

With that, she spun around and left the way she came.

There wasn’t anything worth moving forward for.

~

After that, Y/N vowed that she would be strict on distancing herself from Bucky.

His opinion and treatment of her didn’t matter anymore; her intuition about their situation had served her right, and now she needed to prioritize her happiness.

Besides, they needed to be professional. Their relationship had gotten far too intimate for just work colleagues anyways.

She separated herself from him; no lunches together, no training sessions together, she requested different partners for missions. Team missions and activities would be all the time spent together. There was no need to be around him any more than necessary.

Because of this, Bucky was more miserable than ever. He figured her distance was all due to the rumours: that they had finally upset her to the point of avoiding him and was now taking great lengths to do so.

The team noticed the change in both of them; Bucky was grumpy, ill-mannered and short tempered. While Y/N remained cold and distant, only speaking to Bucky when absolutely necessary.

Steve wasn’t having it; screw all of the highschool-drama shit. They were adults, they were teammates. Bucky had made his choice; he couldn’t wallow in it forever. And thought he couldn’t blame Y/N for acting the way she was... he had a team to run.

If neither of them were going to confront the issue, Rogers was going to.

The day was already starting off shitty; miserable weather and the team’s energy depleting when they had received a tip off about suspicious activity in the abandoned buildings near Manhattan.

Though the team was unsure of it’s threat level; they figured the safest option was to have a stakeout, analyze the activity and compile a report. If it was an Avenger’s level threat, they would move in on it. If not, then they could report it to the proper authorities and have the issue off their hands.

“Barnes, L/N, I’m assigning you to the abandoned building assessment. You’ll see if there’s any activity in these suspected locations; we know they’re hiding something out there, we just don’t know what.”

Bucky’s and Y/N’s heads snapped up, shocked that Steve would assign them together after all that had happened.

“Is that necessary?” Y/N asked.

She had already discussed with Steve that she wanted some distance put between them; not understanding why now he suddenly wanted to go against her request.

“It is, we don’t know what we’re dealing with and you’re both qualified for surveillance. Nat will be available if either of you need a tap out; but I’d rather have her set aside for infiltration than lookout.”

“Sam’s just as qualified,” Bucky piped up, “Y/N’s face hasn’t been made public yet—not exactly the smartest decision.”

Steve held his stare intensely, “Well thank God it’s just surveillance then. You know, unseen?”

Bucky huffed, his friend had a point; he didn’t have any excuses left as to why this wouldn’t work.

“Any other concerns?” He asked the group. The team said nothing. Bucky and Y/N shared a scowl with each other, but remained silent.

Steve grinned and spoke dryly, “Wonderful; glad that’s settled then. Dismissed.”

~

Now Barnes and Y/N were forced to plan their course of action for the stakeout. They mostly shared curt nods and simple questions so that neither of them had to interact longer than necessary.

It was past midnight when they sat in the main lounge; silently brooding over their individual tasks as a cold tension held in the air.

Bucky peeked up from his work at Y/N, watching her mumble to herself absentmindedly as she analyzed the building layouts.

He wanted to talk to her. Joke around like they usually would; order Chinese or sushi; forget what they were working on... but he was also mad. Pissed, actually. What happened to solving things together? Talking it out; figuring out where things went wrong? He wanted to say it all to her, ask her in the ways he used to. But his anger overtook him.

“You’re avoiding me.” He stated.

Y/N shot him a quick glare, before rolling out her shoulders and turned back to her work. She was hoping to avoid the issue and get everything done as quickly as possible, but apparently Bucky had other plans.

“How am I avoiding you; I’m sitting right here.”

Bucky shook his head. It hadn’t been the best way to bring the issue up, but at least he said something. He didn’t understand why that warranted the attitude.

“Don’t get smart. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Y/N ignored his statement and continued to look at the schematics. Bucky could’ve screamed in frustration.

“What, you’re not gonna say anything?”

Y/N stayed quiet; content with his suffering in silence. Bucky pursed his lips, his heart heavy with hurt. Really, nothing?

“After everything we’ve been through, you could at least give me an explanation.” He muttered.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, low blow she thought.

“I just think space could do us some good, don’t you? Wouldn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.”

Bucky dropped his notes noticeably hard, brows pulled tightly as he frowned at her.

“Seriously? That’s what’s bothering you? That’s your problem?”

She rolled her eyes, but refused to look at him. I’m not the one with the problem.

“Y/N we’ve dealt with this before, why does it bother you so much now?”

Y/N slammed down her blueprints, eyes filled with rage.

“Says you. Lord knows why you believe the worst thing someone could think is that there’s anything between us.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and met her glare.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N leaned forward on the table, sneering.

“I heard what you said to Tony.”

In an instant Bucky’s heated expression turned to one of confusion.

“What?”

“You know, your adamant reassurance that ‘there’s nothing there, nothing’s going to happen. I’ve never seen Y/N that way, and I never will?’ That lovely little spiel.”

As she spoke, Bucky looked down to the table and cursed under his breath. She’d heard everything.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

Y/N could’ve slapped him. No apology; no admittance; just placing the responsibility all on her.

“What the fuck was I supposed to say?! ‘Hey Buck! Nice to know I mean nothing to you and anything that’s ever happened with us was meaningless?’ Is that what you expected me to say?”

Bucky brought up his metal hand to rub his temples, feeling the start of a massive headache.

“Well shit Y/N, you could’ve said something. You’ve been avoiding me for weeks now, what was supposed to come out of that?”

“Fucking distance, Buck. The way you acted was like it was insane that you’d be caught dead with me. Hell, did you even hear yourself?”

Bucky signed and shook his head, “I know what I said, I’m not an idiot.”

Y/N rose from the table, anger seething through her as her eyes pierced through his.

“I beg to differ.”

She laughed dryly before she continued, “I just can’t believe our friendship meant that little to you that you would blatantly insult me in front of our friends.”

Bucky slammed his hand on the table as he stood, appalled that she could think so little of him.

“Don't you dare act like you’re the only one hurt in this.”

His hand shook as he pointed at her, unsteady with rage.

“You barely fucking look at me anymore and won’t dare be in the same room as me. How the hell am I supposed to fix a problem you don’t even talk to me about?”

Y/N was screaming now.

“You didn’t talk to me either! My god. A few weeks ago you nearly fucked me in the hallway…”

Y/N stopped herself, feeling a bubble rise in her throat. Tears pricked at her eyes, her breath hitching as her emotions overcame her.

Damn it, she thought.

She avoided his gaze and tried to calm herself. Bucky watched as Y/N left the table and walked towards the kitchen. Her back was turned to him, as she wrung her hands with anxiety.

He felt his anger evaporate as her shoulders hunched in defeat. Her voice barely above a whisper.

“Bucky you said you didn’t even find me attractive, how else was I supposed to take that? How do you think that makes me feel?”

He walked slowly, not wanting to scare her with his brute-ness. With her back still turned to him he leaned against the island counter, unsure of what to say.

The silence hung for a moment as they both thought. He hadn’t meant for her to hear it. Hell, he hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t mean a word of what he said. All this time: he thought he was the one that cared too much, that it meant nothing for her.

He’d gone and blabbed off bullshit, when what he should have done is talked to the only person that really mattered; Y/N.

He was an idiot.

“Y/N… I didn't mean it.”

She spun around to face him, pain evident in her face.

“Well then why did you say it?”

He watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek, before she quickly tried to wipe it away.

“There’s no excuse for what I did, I know that.”

She laughed the same dry laugh she had before.

“Well try and give me one, you owe me that much.”

He wanted to speak, but the words were lost. How could he tell her everything?

Where could he start? That wanting her was so incredibly terrifying that it tore him in all directions? That the pressure from everyone, including himself, to be good enough for her was beyond words? That the fact that he’d disappointed her, hurt her, was the worst pain he’d ever feel?

“My god, is the mere thought of being with me really that awful to you? You were practically screaming at Tony-”

Bucky felt his control snap; his voice escaping with a booming tone.

“I was scared! Jesus Christ Y/N, I was scared.”

She shut up then, shocked by his outburst.

He ran his hands through his hair and gripped the base as his filter disappeared and the truth came out.

“I know that sounds ridiculous. But fuck, I’m reminded of it all the time Y/N; how completely perfect and unattainable you are. I know that. I know that you’re the only person I should be with, the only person that’s worth any of my goddamn effort—“

She remained silent as he started to pace, mesmerized by the state he was in. She’d never seen him like this before: raw and untamed. She didn’t know he was capable of it.

“—And if everyone knows that I know that, if everyone knew how highly I thought of you then, I don’t know. It’s terrifying. Everyone can see that you’re incredible, everyone can see that I can see that you’re incredible. And I don’t deserve that; I don’t deserve you.”

He laughed painfully as tears pricked his eyes, his anxiety on full display.

“You don’t understand Y/N, it means so much to me. You mean so much to me. Everyone keeps saying; “Why don’t you just go for it,” “Why don’t you just do something already,” “What’s taking so long,”?”

He stopped his pacing, stopping at the edge of the counter and leaning on his elbows, head in his hands as he spoke.

“But it’s not that easy. Because the thought of fucking everything all up—”

—That’s the scariest thing. She looked to the floor and crossed her arms, trying to wrap her head around what he had revealed to her.

She internally kicked herself, say something you idiot.

But Bucky had rendered her speechless.

“Have I?

Y/N looked up to meet Bucky eyes; vulnerable and crying as he asked for her answer.

“What?” She asked.

He smiled sadly, turning to lean back against the counter as he slid his hands in his pockets.

“Have I fucked everything up?”

Y/N’s lips trembled, unable to control the sob that escaped her throat.

“No, Bucky god no—“

She quickly stepped around the island to meet him, jumping to wrap her arms around his frame. Immediately he took her in his arms, his cheek resting against her hair as he kissed the top of her head.

“I’m so sorry Y/N,” he whispered in her ear, “I’m so so sorry.”

She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, resting her cheek on his shoulder.

“Me too.”

Bucky breathed a shaky sigh of relief, somehow holding her tighter than he had before. She smiled against his skin, feeling relief herself. Bucky pulled back from her gently, and looked into her eyes. He spoke softly, wanting her to really feel the truth of his words.

“And of course I find you attractive, Y/N. How could I not?”

Y/N laughed softly as she wiped away a stray tear. “Thank you.”

She shifted her hand to squeeze his arm; a small symbol of affection.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

He laughed, loosening his grip and holding her gently in his arms.

“Thanks.”

She bit her bottom lip, rubbing her hands over his biceps.

“So, we’re good? We can go back to being friends?”

Her words hung in the air, something feeling off about their presence. It was like water on a fire; silence in the music. Bucky blinked, then held her away from his frame. He looked at her, mouth slightly agape. Immediately her mind began to race. She thought everything was fine now. She didn’t understand what he was upset for. Isn’t that what he wanted?

“Friends?” He asked.

Just friends. He thought of the missions they had been on together, he thought of all of their talks when neither of them could sleep, their heated moment a few weeks back. He thought of her smile, her laugh, her hands on his shoulders when she comforted him, a soft skim of their hands when they stood too close in the elevators. The times she patched him up after bad battles, lecturing him on taking better care of himself. He thought of their first day together, how she didn’t hesitate to partner with him and immediately showed him how strong she was, how kind. All the times she said “hello”, every time she hugged him goodbye.

He thought of every good thing she had ever had to say about him; that he was a fighter, that he was strong, loyal. That he was cheesy and dorky, and how she enjoyed those things about him. His jokes, his mannerisms, even his raging mood swings.

“They make up who you are,” she told him, “I wouldn’t want to have you any other way.”

He thought of every good thing he’d ever said about her; that she was powerful, bold. That no one could ever mistake her for anybody else, that she was independent, caring. She was emotional, and sensitive.

“So I’m a baby?” She joked.

“Yeah,” he said, “but you’re my baby.”

He thought of everything at that moment. All that had been and all that could be...

No.

Suddenly he pulled her into him and wrapped his metal arm around her hips.

In an instant his lips were on hers: hard, desperate. Passionate.

He kissed her like it was all he’d been waiting for, as if she was air and it was the only way he could breathe. His flesh hand wrapped around her neck and gripped at the base of her locks. As he pressed her firmly against him, he gently pushed her back towards the counter, hands sliding down to her thighs and hoisting her up.

Y/N tried to move, but her mind was completely melted. Was this happening? Was this really happening?

Bucky’s hand drifted upwards on her side, gently tickling her. She jumped at the contact of skin, and he stopped.

Bucky tried to read her as he looked into her eyes. She still held that same shocked expression as before, filling Bucky with regret at what he had done.

He didn’t have any control over himself, in that moment the mere thought of losing something more was insufferable. But now he feared he had lost her completely.

“I’m—“ he started, “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t—“

“Don’t stop.”

Bucky’s brows knit together at her voice. Her lips swollen from his kiss; breath picking up as her heart rate increased.

“My god, don’t stop.”

Y/N cut herself off by pulling Bucky back into her as passionately as he had done before. Her hands wrapped in the front of his shirt, urging him to do more. More.

Bucky didn’t hesitate as he placed his hand around the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. With the other hand he pulled her hips tightly against his again.

Bucky nearly moaned as she bit his bottom lip, her hands reaching up to tug at his long locks.

Then her lips trailed down his jaw to his neck. Y/N marked the sensitive skin with small bites and gentle kisses. A groan escaped his lips, feeling himself grow hard. She grinded against him and he exhaled in desire.

“Jesus Christ—“ he shuttered as he spoke, “Be careful. Someone could walk in.”

She pulled away to look at him, hair messy and eyes wild.

“You think I care?”

Her teeth gently tugged at her bottom lip before she broke into a smile, and Bucky felt something inside him snap.

He pulled her back to him roughly and started attacking her neck, decorating her with hickies from her jaw down to her chest.

Y/N was a moaning mess, hands curled in his hair as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Dear god, did this feel good.

He harshly sucked at a spot on her collarbone, bruising it intensely. Y/N couldn’t help but lean further into him as her head rolled back, a sinful cry escaping her.

“God, yes.”

She removed her hands from his hair and trailed down to his shoulders, squeezing the thick muscle. Bucky momentarily left her chest, coming back up to kiss her. His hands slid up her sides, gently gathering the fabric of her shirt.

His forehead rested against hers as he looked at her bare skin, his hands slowly drifted to cup her breasts.

“This okay?” He asked, lips drifting down to her chest.

Y/N giggled, “Yes, now shut up.”

He laughed as he parted from her to remove her shirt fully, immediately latching himself to her again.

His hands grazed the soft skin of her back as he trailed her chest. Her hands placed on his pecs as she drifted downwards, fingers fumbling with the zipper on his jeans.

Y/N felt him smile against her skin, as his hands gripped around her thighs, wrapping her tightly around his waist. His palms shifted to grope her ass as he lifted her, not breaking the kiss as he carried her to the couch and set her gently on her back.

“You-“ he spoke between the kisses he placed on her neck, “Really—don’t care—if someone walks in?”

Y/N cried out as his fingers dug harshly into her hips, her mind completely enraptured by Bucky.

“Fuck ‘em.”

Pride swelled in his chest at her response to him; the soft moans, the whispers of his name—he could’ve finished right then and there.

“Alright baby, just letting you know what you’re getting into.”

He started down her body, trailing kisses lower and lower…

“Think I can’t take it?” She teased.

His eyes flicked back up to her, and Y/N felt her mouth dry.

His irises had darkened over with lust, a dangerous smirk adorning his lips. The way he looked at her; like she was the sexiest person in the world, like he could completely devour here.

Bucky looked like pure sin, and Y/N was the reason for it.

“Prove to me you can, doll.”

~

Taglist: @babyblue-07 @wintersoldierbucky28

#bucky barnes smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes angst #Sebastian Stan #buckysbabygorl masterlist

[walkerwords]

“The Savior Sessions” Part 16 of 33 - Negan x GN!Reader

IMAGE CREDIT: AMC/GENE PAGE

SERIES MASTERLIST

Summary: When the reader arrives back home, they have to face Negan, but first, they need to tell the others what happened with Alpha. When they find out that Daryl is about to step into the fire what will happen and how will Negan and the reader get past his escape?

Word Count: 2981

Warning: Swearing

Song I Wrote To: “Falling” by Harry Styles

Note: I wanted to make this part focused on conversation and have a breather after all the action. More to come.

-------

The walls of Alexandria greeted you late in the afternoon. 

The entire ride home you had been paranoid that any Walker was one of Alpha’s people. The original fears from the start of the Apocalypse were returning. A lone Walker or even a few hadn’t given you the sense of fear like this since those first few months. However, now, the Living threat moved with the Dead and there were new rules to play by.

At least, that is what you felt this was. A cruel game. After Terminus, after the Wolves, and even after the Saviors, you didn’t think people could get worse. How naïve you and the rest of your family had been.

As your horse swayed beneath you, your hands gripped the reins tightly as Alpha’s face remained at the forefront of your mind.

There was something so feral yet powerful about the woman. You could also tell that she was the product of the new world and based on what Lydia had told you, Henry, and Daryl, her mother hadn’t always been this way. You only hoped that whatever Daryl was about to do didn’t unleash even more of the terror that you were sure was hidden beneath her stoic features.

Siddiq was the one that met you as the gate opened. He took the reins of your horse and led him to the stables, not saying a word as you finally relaxed when the gate shut securely behind you. 

“Here,” Siddiq said quietly as he reached for your arm to help you down off the horse. You gripped his shoulder as your feet hit the ground and then he was pulling you into him. “I’m so sorry about Jesus,” he said and you gripped him back, trying to keep your emotions in check. 

“Thanks, Doc,” you said as you gave him a final squeeze before letting go. Stepping back, you looked up at him and then noticed something else in his eyes. Something that wasn’t just sympathy. “What else happened?” He took a breath and then smiled slightly.

“Rosita’s pregnant,” he said proudly and that was the last thing you had expected to come out of his mouth. 

“And it’s….it’s yours?” you asked, carefully. 

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a wider smile. You couldn’t help the wave of emotion that overtook you then. Even with all the sorrow, this was something to celebrate. 

“I am so happy for you,” you said and you meant it. “Look at you, a dad.” You punched him in the shoulder lightly. 

“Thanks,” he said and you could tell he wanted to be even more excited, but after what had happened, nobody was feeling very gleeful. Instead, you focused on the task at hand. 

“We need to talk. All of us,” you said with a heavy sigh, “we are not even remotely done with these people.” Siddiq understood immediately. 

“I’ll call for a council meeting,” he said. “Did you want to and talk to…” he began, but you shook your head. 

“No, just call the meeting. Negan can wait.”

---------

“They’re back,” a quiet voice said in the dark. 

Negan slowly opened his eyes. He wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t been able to since Michonne returned and told him what had happened and asked him if he had ever heard of people walking with the Dead while wearing their skins. He hadn’t, but he wasn’t surprised that they were out there. The new world changed people in the most extreme ways. 

Michonne hadn’t stayed long, but he could tell the new threat was getting to her. It was rare when he saw the woman rocked and he didn’t have a good feeling about what was to come. 

Turning over on his cot, Negan looked at Judith who had just returned to the cell. Judith folded herself onto the floor as she had hours before. She had been doing so since he got back, only leaving to see her mom and sleep. Whether Michonne knew or not, she never told her to leave. 

“Do they look angry?” Negan asked.

“They look tired,” Judith said softly. “I think something else bad happened.” Negan furrowed his brow as he sat up. 

“Why do you say that?”

“Siddiq just called a council meeting. They only do that when something bad happened,” Judith said.

“They called a council meeting once because Eugene tried to make a catapult,” Negan reminded her. 

“This one feels different,” she said with a slight shake of her head. “Before I came down here, I heard (Y/N) say that Uncle Daryl was afraid. He’s not afraid of anything.” Negan frowned at that. He knew Daryl enough to know that he rarely showed fear in the face of danger. 

“Your uncle is strong, kid,” he told her, trying to reassure her. “He’s been through worse.” Judith, however, wasn’t convinced. She leaned in more towards the bars, removing her hat so he could see her better. 

“Negan,” she whispered, “I’m scared.” He didn’t hesitate then. Negan moved towards the bars and crouched down to her level. He reached for her hands and she held onto them tight. 

“You listen to me, kid,” he said, “no matter what happens, nobody will hurt you. Do you understand me? I won’t let them hurt you. Besides, you are a survivor, and dammit, you’re a Grimes. To these new freaks that may not mean somethin’, but to me and to everyone else in your family, that means a lot.”

“Does it?” she asked in a small voice.

“Hell yeah it does,” he assured her. “You, your mom, and that little boy upstairs are what’s left of this badass family I met seven years ago and you know what I learned after knowin’ your daddy and big brother?”

“What?”

“Nobody goes against a Grimes and wins.”

--------

As soon as you finished explaining what had happened at Hilltop, the meeting hall was silent. 

“I don’t know what Henry ended up saying to her, but it got the kid to open up,” you explained. “I think that she could be valuable.”

“For what?” Aaron asked. “You saw those freaks the same night I did, (Y/N). You know how ruthless they are. They aren’t going to back down for one girl.”

“Lydia is Alpha’s child, Aaron,” you said. “Whether the woman is capable of compassion or not, that means something to her. I don’t think she would have openly exposed herself like that if it didn’t.”

“And that’s why Daryl went after her? For leverage?” Rosita asked. You noticed that her hand was placed protectively on her abdomen. You didn’t think she realized she was doing it. 

“I think it’s more about protecting her,” you said with a sigh. “The girl’s been abused.”

“She also killed Jesus,” Aaron argued. 

“No, her people did. Lydia didn’t kill anyone,” you countered. 

“As far as you know…” 

“Look all I know is that Daryl is about to declare war and we need to be ready,” you said. Looking around at the faces in the room, you could see that a wave of fear was being passed from person to person. These...Whisperers, as Eugene called them, were something out of a nightmare and that was saying something considering everyone had been living in a horror film for a decade. 

“Negan didn’t know them,” Michonne interjected, gaining your attention. You nodded.

“I figured as much,” you sighed. “I don’t think anyone would have known them. I think that this is their first time showing themselves to people that they weren’t immediately going to kill afterward.”

“Looks like we’re all going in blind on this,” Michonne said. 

“It’s new territory, that’s for sure,” you said, leaning against the wooden column at your back. 

“What’s your take on all of this?” Gabriel asked you. 

“I think they are more dangerous than we think,” you said. “We’ve fought villains before, but this is the first time when I can’t see how this is going to go. Guns and armies are one thing, even those freaks at Terminus made some kind of sense in my mind. But this? This is absolute insanity and I’m positive that we haven’t seen the last of Alpha or her people.”

“Why didn’t you go with Daryl?” Aaron asked. 

“I was needed back here,” you said.

“For Negan?” Aaron asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“Yes, Aaron, instead of informing my family that there are masked psychos after us, I ran all the way back here to check on escaped convict number one,” you spat, gathering your things and gripping your sword tighter. “Fuck off.” 

Nobody said anything as you stormed from the hall. 

“Nice,” Michonne said with a smack to the back of Aaron’s head. 

You headed for home, still boiling with anger. You knew that Aaron was angry with you about everything with Negan no matter what he said. He blamed Negan for Eric and while you understood, you just wished that he would remember that Negan wasn’t the one to kill his boyfriend. Eric tragically died in the war, but so did a lot of people. 

Pausing in the middle of the road, you couldn’t believe that that thought crossed your mind. You were invalidating Aaron’s grief because of your own emotions and feelings and you hated the way it made you feel. “Get yourself together,” you whispered to yourself. 

Continuing on towards your house, you passed by the Grimes house when a small voice reached your ears.

“You always tell me to be honest!” Judith’s yell came from the cell beneath her house. She sounded frustrated which had you moving closer. 

“You’re the kid, I’m the adult,” Negan said back. Hearing his voice offered you both comfort and stoked that anger in your gut. You wanted to throttle him and hug him at the same time. Your feet were moving before you could even stop them and the next thing you knew you were pushing open the heavy door of the jail. You were met with silence. 

“Get out, Judith,” you ordered. The young girl looked up at you from her spot on the ground. Her hat was in her hands and she looked as if she had been there for a while. 

“No,” she said, “you’re gonna yell at him.” The girl was too smart for her own good, you thought. You still avoided looking at Negan, but you could feel his eyes on you. 

“I’m gonna yell at both of you if you don’t get out,” you said. “Your mom is gonna wanna talk to you.”

“Is this about what happened to Jesus?” she asked, getting to her feet. 

“Yes, now go.” Judith hesitated. “Judith, right now.” With a sigh, she placed her hat on her head and sulked as she walked from the room. With one last look at Negan, she stormed out and ran up the steps. 

“You shouldn’t be angry with her,” Negan said, finally speaking directly to you. You paused and then let your bag drop from your hands. Dust flew from where it thumped to the cold floor and then you were turning to finally look at him. That light was in his eyes again, the one that was only reserved for you. 

Normally, it would give you so much joy, but it only fueled your fire. However, you kept your temper under control. “Are you sure you don’t know anything about these Whisperers?” you asked, your voice low. 

“Is that what you seriously want to talk about right now?” he asked, his arms braced on the bars as he gave you an incredulous look. 

“I’m not sure I can talk about anything else without screaming.”

“You’re angry,” he said.

“I’m hurt, Negan,” you corrected. “When Scott showed up and told Daryl and me that you had left, yeah, I was pissed. I couldn’t understand why after everything you would just leave and then I realized something.”

“Which was what?” he asked carefully. 

“That I was so stupid to believe anything that happened between us was real.” Negan stared at you in shock, not expecting that at all. 

“You honestly believe that? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“What else am I supposed to believe!” you shouted. “I am so goddamn stupid! I should have known the second you had the chance, you were going to leave. I just don’t know why you even bothered to come back.”

“Don’t bullshit yourself, (Y/N),” he countered, not letting you be the only one on offense.

“Excuse me?”

“You know damn well why I came back! You just won’t admit it to yourself because you’re afraid!”

“Afraid? Of what? Why don’t you tell me Negan since you seem to know me so well,” you said, crossing your arms.

“That’s the thing, though. I do know you. I know you better than anyone has in a long time. And I’m not talking about where you grew up or how many Walkers you’ve killed. I know you. We are the same and I know that I’m not the only one who has felt that way. You can deny it all you want, but I know the truth and so do you.” 

“You don’t know anything,” you whispered, but your voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t feel like this, don’t you understand?”

“Like what?” 

“Like I am willing to turn my back on my entire family just to keep you safe. Just to make sure that you are still alive when I come home. I shouldn’t be this...this consumed by one person!”

“Why are you acting like the idea of you and me is so fucking terrible?”

“Because everything I touch, I kill and so do you! You say we’re the same, well you’re right, Negan! We are both monsters and all people do is die around us! Rick, Carl, Jesus! If we are the same then I don’t want to be!”

“I’m not going to let you stand there and say that what we feel for each other doesn’t mean anything!”

“Don’t tell me how to feel,” you shot back.

“Then say it, (Y/N),” he said, leaning through the bars. “Say that I mean nothing to you and I’ll stop.” You were silent as you looked at him, fighting the tears behind your eyes. “That’s what I thought.”

“You bastard,” you swore. “You left me. After everything that I’ve lost, that you knew about and you left! How am I supposed to react to hearing that you were gone!”

“I came back,” he said softly. 

“And what if you didn’t? Was I just supposed to accept that? Was I just supposed to go on with life not knowing where you were or if you were even alive? What was the plan?” Negan reached for you, but you shook your head, holding your arms tighter against your chest.

“I didn’t think there was a future here if I was locked in a cage.”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” you shot back, trying to keep your rage contained. 

“Don’t you?” Negan challenged. 

“I just lost one of my best friends and my other one is hunting down our new enemy’s kid to save her life so no, Negan, I don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m sorry, (Y/N),” he whispered.

“What did I tell you about apologizing?”

“I’m not sorry that I left, I’m sorry that you’re hurting.”

“You hurt me,” you told him, wiping at your face. 

“I know and if I could take it back, I would,” he said. 

“I don’t want to be the bad guy here,” you told him. 

“You could never be the villain of my story,” he whispered. The silence was thick in the room and you didn’t know how to respond to him. You hadn’t intended to go off on him like this, you thought you would give it a few days, but hearing his voice….

“I have to figure out how to help Daryl,” you said suddenly with a sniff. Negan frowned as you changed the subject but went along with it. 

“What are you going to do about them?” he asked. 

“We’ll figure it out when Daryl finds the girl. He has to be included in the decision. Tara too. Maggie also if we can reach her, but I don’t know where she is right now,” you whispered, not looking at him. 

“There’s gonna be a fight, isn’t there?” 

“Not if I can help it,” you said, gripping your blade. Negan noticed and he also noticed the steel reserve that seemed to be around you since you walked in. 

“You’re gonna kill them.” It wasn’t a question. 

“Cut off the head of the snake and the body dies,” you said looking up at him. He could see the tears marks, the tears he had caused. “No more games. If she comes for us, I will kill her.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do,” you said.

“We both know that’s not true.”

“We don’t know anything anymore.” 

“What are you really trying to say, (Y/N)? That you hate me now?” 

“I will never hate you,” you said, taking a step back. “I told you that before.”

“So what, then?” 

“I just can’t trust you anymore,” you said as you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. 

“How do I win that trust back?” he asked, his tone becoming hoarse. 

“I don’t know,” you whispered, turning to go. 

“I’ll do anything!” he called to you. Your hand paused on the door handle and as you closed your eyes you let one more tear fall. 

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

“(Y/N)!” he yelled as you left the room, letting the door close behind you as you walked away from him.

As you jogged up the steps, you heard his calls for you to return, but you just kept walking.

TAGS:  : @amaroho​ @thanossexual @yes-sir-hotchner @boom-bunny @delusionalteenagewhispers @scootankle @ritajammer21 @writteriguess @tea-atfive @jennydehavilland @halszka-potter @yespleasejayhalstead @fmunegan @hoemadegrace  @pulplorrd @writingdead0829 @lucillethings

#Negan Imagine #Savior Sessions #Walkerwords #negan x reader #negan #twd imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfics #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan x y/n #twd

[marshmallowprotection]

Cereus

Pairing: Choi Saeran/Reader

Description: You never knew what you wanted to do with your life from day one. It just seemed like there were too many things to pick from and all you knew was that you didn’t want to be bound by the expectations of your parents. So, you decide to head west like the rest of those that are seeking new lives and changes without knowing what to expect or your plan. You just never thought that you would find yourself ensnared in the rope of fate on your journey to find yourself.

Word Count: 2235

Cowboy Saeran x Reader

[Read On AO3]

Previous Chapter

Epilogue 

“Was now really the best time for you to pick up the guitar again?”

“What? Did ya’ want me to change the song to somethin’ more fittin’?”

“How about we travel in silence, instead?”

“That ain’t as fun, Saeran. Ya’ gotta live a little… c’mon, get that sour look off your face! Here, I wrote this one for you!”

“...Great.”

The sounds of a finely tuned guitar were all too prevalent in your eardrums these days. Saeyoung was far too content as the little wagon continued to go along the path, playing along to a song that he had been learning recently since he had so much more free time on his hands lately to explore his hobbies outside of conning and trickery.

While you didn't mind the sound, Saeran wasn't as big a fan of the humming and strumming. It led to a bit of bickering between the twins that was a surprise. The lighthearted argument wasn't unwelcomed. It was nice to see how the two of them interacted when they wanted to show that brotherly bond.

This wasn’t where you thought that you would find yourself but you weren’t going to complain about it in the slightest. 

You just leaned your head against Saeran’s shoulder as he commanded the reigns for both of their horses. He sighed at his brother’s antics and just continued as he was. It had only been a few weeks since everything happened and it was still an adjustment period.

After Saejoong was forcibly removed from power, the sheriff and everyone else that had been working with them were taken down and removed from power. They didn’t need to have a trial for them since it had been proved in front of them with the wave of a hand. They were going to be locked away where they would be unable to hurt anyone ever again.

Saeyoung and Saeran no longer had to live in fear of losing their lives because of him anymore. That was all they ever wanted. They didn’t have to hide their faces anymore. Frankly, there were people in many places that weren’t happy about their crimes as they were, but the boys had been forgiven for what they’d done by countless people.

Most of them, anyway.

It wasn’t like they had been stashing away all that money consistently. They were consistently fueling it to people in need. Anyone who needed to eat was getting paid. Anyone that was living without parents in their life was getting money. Anyone in need of something. They had been taken care of by the twins for quite a while.

The rest of the money had been for trying to control the crime scene to manipulate a load of real crooks into listening to them. Whatever they didn’t need was just put away so they could either give it back eventually or so they would have some money to get by when and if they were free. Not that the people needed to worry about it.

It changed everything in the town for the better.

But, everything changed in a matter of a few weeks. It went from zero to one-eighty. At the very least, it went from bad to better. Which was the greatest thing that anyone could hope for. The gold that was already taken from the wells couldn’t be placed back, but it could be doled out equally and fairly to all of the members of the town thanks to Jumin Han’s family.

Since his father controlled the banks, everyone’s accounts were layered with weekly reimbursements of gold and silver profits. Because of this, the town was able to grow in more ways than one, with more businesses opening up and people moving into town because everyone supported each other.

It was looking to turn around the town that was only a few months away from the brink of collapse.

Once Saejoong was gone, there needed to be a new mayor… and believe it or not, the people wanted Jihyun to take the job.

He had been such a capable man that had worked to protect everyone, and they all trusted him to do the right thing. He was elected in a landslide after everyone agreed on who they wanted to be in charge for the time being. With him and Jumin at the helm, the town was shaping up to be a great place to be and somewhere that you knew would be okay.

Since he was going to be handling matters of the town now, the bar was given to Yoosung. Who was surprised by the event entirely! But, in all honesty, he and Zen had been running the bar for quite a while on their own apart from Jaehee stepping in now and again to help with the books when she wasn’t busy with Jumin.

So, Yoosung was the one that he trusted most.

Yoosung was excited about the prospect. He had a lot of ideas for the bar, too. He wanted to be able to make it into a restaurant that anyone was welcome to. He and Zen were working together to make things work out with both of their capable hands. It would still be Jihyun’s Bar, but it would be more than anyone ever expected it to be.

While you liked your place at the bar and the job you held, you couldn’t deny that call to adventure that had your name written all over it. As things calmed down and you and the rest of the group had worked together to help the town, you had been dutifully recovering from your attack.

You weren’t on the stage to perform, but after a week of being stuck in bed, you had sat at the bar and gave a song to Zen’s performances. Singing didn’t take too much out of you, and it felt nice to be out and about where everyone was instead of worrying about how things were going. As always, this place was a good place to be.

All and all, things were going together in town.

Even better, Saeyoung had joined you at the same time, stepping in when he wasn’t working with Saeran and Jihyun to play some music along with you. He revealed his secret talent, that he was rather skilled at guitar, but he never had the chance to show it off to other people like he wanted to. He was really good!

Even if Saeran said otherwise.

Saeran had been right by Jihyun’s side the entire time, trying to help him make matters right from what happened with their father. He was taking it personally and seriously to make amends for things. You’d been surprised by that, given the history that you had heard about what the twins went through they’d met Jihyun, but the fact that Saeran was calling him “dad” was telling enough.

Saeran wasn’t trying to become the next mayor, though.

That was the last thing he wanted.

This was just the loose end that had to be tied up for him. Saeran had told you that he wanted to be able to leave the desert for a while, maybe not forever because he knew how much this place meant to you now, but he did want to see the world first.

You knew that feeling.

You knew what it felt like to want an adventure.

Saeran was your adventure now, and anywhere that he wanted to go, you wanted to be. That’s what led to this situation that you were now in. So, when he proposed the idea to you one day if you would be a willing party to go on a trip with him. Of course, Saeyoung was going to be tagging along, but it was a given. He still wanted you to come with him.

Of course, you said yes.

It wasn’t a “goodbye” to the western town that you had come to, but a simple “see you soon.”

Which is how you wound up where you were now, in a little wagon pulled by Begona and Big Dipper, headed out from town and deep along the trails to take you to wherever you wanted to go. Saeran was kind of interested in seeing the ocean since he’d never been able to see that before, well, there were a lot of things that he hadn’t seen before, but…

It was the first thing that came to mind when you asked, “Well, where do you wanna go?”

“I reckon it’d be nice to see the coast?”

“Good choice, Saeranie!”

Saeyoung seemed jazzed about the idea, himself. He had traveled out with Jihyun and seen the coast before, and had described it to his twin with a mystified look in his eyes. It had left a mark on him that Saeran wanted to see. Hilarious, you knew, but it was kind of sweet to see them getting along and sharing these things.

You were happy here with Saeran.

He snorted when you tucked yourself closer to his side, but ignored the urge to make a snide comment to torment you. You’d grown used to him teasing you and pulling your hair now and again. He might have been Saeran now, but he was still your tormentor by all accounts. Which was exactly what you’d wanted, anyway.

“How far do you think we have left?” you asked him, watching as the landscape changed by the minute from the clay and soil, into the greens that you knew very well. “Do you reckon it’s more than a day or two at this rate?”

“I reckon so,” he responded. You’d pay for stealing some of his quirky vocabulary to tease him. But, you liked that little accent of his whether he wanted to agree with that or not. “I ain’t never traveled this far by myself before, so I’m just guessing from what the maps said.”

“It took a while even by train,” you admitted.

“‘Course, we ain’t in no hurry, little Cereus. We’ll get there when we get there… don’t tell me that yer’ gonna start askin’ me that every five minutes. We already got one idiot n’ this car, we don’t need two of ‘em.”

The two of you chuckled.

That seemed to bring Saeyoung’s attention to the scene. He had stopped playing the time being as he leaned forward between the two of you, ignoring the way the wagon bounced against the terrain and could’ve knocked him over. The way that things were changing had caught his eye. Had he traveled in this area before? “I’ll pretend I ain’t hear that. But, hey, do y’all remember when I told ya’ that I met someone when I was gone with Jihyun?”

“...That fake partner ya’ mentioned?” Saeran quipped. You knew what he thought about that person that Saeyoung had brought up now and again. You couldn’t doubt him. Because they all doubted Zen about you! So, who was to say that he was hiding information about somebody just to make some kind of joke?

“They’re not fake!” Saeyoung retorted. He huffed and looked at you for some moral support. “Cereus, ya’ believe me, right? I’m only bringin’ this up because I was wonderin’ if you two would be interested in meetin’ ‘em? After all, they’ve been waitin’ for me to come back n’ see ‘em since I left a few months ago.”

That made you curious.

You raised a brow, “Oh?”

“Absolutely.”

Saeran sighed. He looked back at his twin and shook his head, incredulous. It was like he couldn’t believe that Saeyoung wanted to take a little detour. He wasn’t going to hear the end of it if he didn’t do something about this. “Alright, alright. Ya’ know what? I reckon that I want you to prove that this person is real, then. I’ve heard this spiel too many damn times. Ya’ wanna prove it? Let’s see ‘em, then. Tell me where we’re headed, then.”

“Aw, Saeran, I knew you cared about me!”

“Mainly, I just wanna see if yer’ a liar or not.”

“I’ll admit I’m a little curious, Saeyoung. I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt on this one. Be nice, Saeran. Who knows, it might lead us to another adventure!”

“The last thing I want right now  is another dangerous adventure.”

“That settles it, then. To the sea, we go!”

[AUTHOR’S NOTE:] 

Heya Howdy Doodle Doo, don’t let the door close on ya’ because this ain’t over yet.

That’s right. 

This isn’t the end of Cowboy Saeran. Join us soon in the sequel which is going to be a Seven x Reader story. This will be my first long-form Seven x Reader story, and I’m glad to be writing it. I sincerely am going to have to thank countless people for supporting this story and supporting me. I’ve made a lot of new friends that I hope to keep forever thanks to this story. 

My heart is filled with so much love for so many of you fans. 

I’ve received fan art, cosplay, and all kinds of gifts for this story of mine and it means a lot to me that there are people that enjoy something I’ve made so much that they want to play around in my take on the Mystic Messenger characters. So, this isn’t goodbye to you, my loyal cowboy fans.

This is a See You Soon.

#cereus #cowboy saeran supremacy #cowboy saeran #mm #mysme #mysticmessenger #mystic messenger #mod kait #saeran #saeran choi #choi saeran #unknown #saeran mystic messenger #mystic messenger saeran #unknown mystic messenger #mystic messenger unknown #mm unknown #unknown mm #saeran mm #mm saeran #saeran mysme #unknown mysme #mysme unknown #mysme saeran #saeran x reader #unknown x reader #reader insert #long post

[honeytea8]

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

.

.

.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

.

.

.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

.

.

.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

#JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #Dio Brando #Dio x Reader #Dio Brando x Reader #Masquerade AU #jojo #Dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #3D Renders

[meowdymista]

Van der Driscoll Pt 7

Part 6 - Masterlist

Part 8

This is a bit of a filler chapter, which is stupid for the ratio of original wording to in game script ratio. Next one will be more engaging, I promise. Also sorry for the long wait; I took time off from writing last week because it was my birthday, and then England swept into a second lockdown so it’s been poo trying to prepare especially in work because I process somms for small-medium businesses but whatever. No one is getting much for Christmas this year lol

****

You find, much to your relief and Arthur’s annoyance, that Sean’s chaotic charm and energy swallows everyone’s attention over the next few weeks. He’s loud, boastful and brash: The Irish Terrier as Arthur and his adopted fathers call him.

You can’t help but find his totally unapologetic nature comforting. Whilst washing shirts, you overhear him get Molly to admit she considers him no better than a chimney sweep from the local bog - and immediately crucify her for it, calling her “snotty nosed” and a “right little madam”, much to her dismay. After the weeks of dirty looks (despite little to no actual confrontation), Sean brings a breath of fresh air. With him nearby, you know exactly where you stand and whether anyone in the vicinity is plotting against you.

“Please, Y/N,” groans Arthur into his hands one evening. “Please tell me you ain’t makin’ friends with that bastard.”

“Why?” you ask, genuinely surprised. “Isn’t he like a little brother to you?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” He moves his hands to give you a look of despair. “What’s wrong with Lenny? Or Tilly? Or Mary Beth?”

“Karen’s fun,” you muse, earning yourself another groan.

“Always with the loud drunkards,” he grumbles.

“Mmhm, and what was it Dutch said? When you go missing he checks the saloon, and if you’re not there he checks the jail?”

“Shurrup.” He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you onto his body, grinning as you protest, laughing.

“Don’t play innocent - Hosea’s been telling me stories!”

“Ahh, don’t go listening to him. He spins stories for a living, and anyway I was a kid in most of them.”

“And the stories I’ve heard from Lenny?” you smirk, still fighting despite it proving futile with you laughing so much. He growls, peppering your exposed skin with kisses as you wrestle playfully.

You cry out when a flailing limb makes contact with one of your swollen breasts. Arthur immediately releases you, watching you with concern as you try to rub out the punch without swearing.

“Y’alright?”

“Fine,” you huff. “Just sensitive is all.”

“I’m sorry - shouldn’t be playing so rough with you when you’re… in the way tha’ you are.”

“It’s fine, Arthur,” you repeat firmly, staring him down. “I’m fine. You didn’t knock my stomach, so we’re fine. Like I said, I’m just sensitive.”

He hums doubtfully.

Following a shootout with the Pinkertons and the law in the middle of Valentine, Dutch had ordered the camp out of Horseshoe Overlook and ushered you south east into the state of Lemoyne. On the other side of Dewberry Creek, Arthur and Charles had scouted a hideout chistened Clemens Point. Arthur hadn’t been the keenest to tell you that story, but you had weaseled it out of him.

Micah had recommended the dried out river bed, but when Charles and Arthur had arrived to scout it, there was an abandoned camp nearby, complete with a dead body. Whilst trying to assess the location’s risk to a group of outlaws should they move in, Arthur had moved some crates to find a woman with her two children.

“I guess I saw you,” he mumbled sadly, avoiding eye contact. “An’ the mess I might leave you in one day.”

You rubbed his shoulder patiently. “What happened?”

“I told ‘em to go ‘cause we needed the land.”

You were confused by the guilt still plaguing him and told him so. With a heavy sigh, he described how the girl translated her mother - that their father had been kidnapped and how it took Charles insisting otherwise to convince him to go look.

“So it’s really thanks to him we found this place,” he says gesturing at the open space bordered with woodland and lake.

If anything, you prefer this new destination to Horseshoe Overlook, and not just for the absence of bad memories. You love the sense of freedom swimming gives you: how it makes you weightless, how easy it is to tilt your head back and listen to the low rumble of the earth and water. You also enjoy that the road is more than a stone’s throw away here. A wanderer would have to purposely go out of their way to discover the camp, to hear the noise or see the light of the campfires. Clemen’s Point made you feel safe, even with the occasional canoe sailing by with a wave.

The new location lifted everyone’s spirits. So much so, Dutch dragged Arthur and Hosea out fishing. They returned hours later - singing and surprisingly sober - with deputy badges and a boat load of fish. Whilst the shiny badge continues to earn Arthur a lot of gib from you and everyone else in camp, Dutch insists the news is beyond fantastic.

“We are inaugurated in the local law!” he cries during one of his many speeches. “Hiding in plain sight!”

Still tired and snacking throughout your waking hours, you are relieved to find your morning sickness has passed its peak. Whilst you feel like your veins are popping out of your skin, Arthur insists your stomach is beginning to curve. You accuse him of an overzealous imagination until you try (and fail) to button the jeans from your past life as an O’Driscoll and your shirts that still fasten offer little to no breathing room.

“Think a trip to town is in order.” You jut out your bottom lip, demonstrating the distance between the buttons and their corresponding holes as your lover looks on laughing.

“I think you might be right.” You don’t resist as his fingertips tilt your chin up to plant a kiss on your lips. “Let me go see if Pearson’s got a list and we’ll head out. Think they’ll do another couple hours?”

“Don’t really have a choice,” you grumble, stealing Arthur’s worn blue shirt from under the cot. You can hear Sadie and Pearson bickering even from the edge of camp, so it doesn’t surprise you when Arthur’s tone cuts through the noise.

“-ain’t cooking work?”

Looking over, you see Arthur has taken the expostulating Mrs Adler aside. You look away quickly - there’s no reason to ruin an acceptable day by agitating her enough to start shouting at you too. Her and Pearson have been at each other’s necks since she’s pulled herself out of the worst of her depression, almost as though he has become the target of her grief.

You focus your attention on preparing the cart. A trip to town means a trip for supplies, and with so many mouths to feed, horseback wasn’t a viable option.

"How are you, Miss?"

You turn around, surprised at being addressed directly by someone other than Arthur. Seeing Kieran’s familiar pastiness relaxes you a little. As an ex-O’Driscoll himself, you trusted him the most not to stab you after Arthur and the little boy, Jack.

"Fine," you reply flatly, brushing out the tangles of the shire’s mane.

"We ain't really had much time to talk since we was in Tall Trees a few months back, have we?" You hum in response, trying not to flash any amount of flesh by moving too much. The poor boy was skittish enough. He immediately begins to help you, being the horse fan he is.

"I never even suspected a thing, Miss,” he gushes. “So I bet you anything Ol' Colm won't have neither."

"So you two were close, huh?" You barely contain the sarcasm.

He shrugs off the question awkwardly. "Which feller was you again?"

"Well I must’ve been good if you have to ask." You feed the shire a carrot, avoiding eye contact. "I was Thomas," you admit quietly. The following silence is prolonged. Doubtful.

“Thomas Donoghue?” You shrug your shoulders. “So you were friends with Paeder then?”

“Peter?” You respond coolly. “Never knew him.”

He opens his mouth as if to argue, but Arthur is marching across camp, shouting back over his shoulder to Mrs Adler. Spooked, Kieran bolts to a safe distance, doing nothing but look on as Arthur helps you up onto the back of the cart.

Acknowledging you with a sneer, the other woman takes her place on the bench up front. “So I’ve graduated from choppin’ vegetables to shopping?”

“Shut your goddamn mouth…” grumbles Arthur, reins in hand as the cart moves off. You give Kieran a small, apologetic wave farewell, but it’s difficult to contain the relief of your companions’ timing. Paeder was a private matter, and one which you had no desire to discuss out loud. You’re sure the shaky man meant no harm, but some things were better buried.

“You cooled down then, yet?” Arthur asks the widow, distracting you from your thoughts.

“I guess,” she grumbles. “And I ain’t no scullion! And I sure as hell ain’t takin’ orders from that sweating halfwit!”

You can almost hear his eyes roll. “Well I guess we all gotta do our share, princess.”

“Where’s that letter?”

“Oh, you reading his mail now?”

Sadie throws him a dirty look. “Robbing and killing’s ok, but letter reading’s where we draw the line?”

You stifle a smirk as Arthur pulls it from the inside of his coat, knowing he’s been had. “Here.”

“Dear Aunt Cathy-”

“You are somethin’ else…”

“I haven’t heard from you in some time, so I prayed to the Lord above that your health has not deteriorated further… bla bla bla… s’boring… Oo! Wait a sec, listen to this! Since we last corresponded, I have travelled widely, making no small name for myself.” You all laugh out loud. “Before you ask, I am still yet to take a wife, but I can assure you it is not for lack of suitors.” Arthur barks out laughing again as Sadie giggles. “He ever actually talked to a woman he ain’t paid for?” she asks in disbelief.

“Look, we’re all hiding behind something.” Whilst his tone advises the limit of fun has been reached, the smile is still audible.

“And what’s this? Return to Tacitus Kilgore?”

“Oh that? That’s Dutch’s idea. All mail to be sent to the same alias. Whenever we set up somewhere new, Strauss, he heads into town, tells them to start expecting mail from a Tacitus Kilgore or whatever they changed it to… Here, gimme that back. We got work to do.”

You all sit quietly as the cart rolls into Rhodes. The locals watch you, wary of the unfamiliar faces, but you keep your head high. Strangers smell weakness. It’s better to come off aloof and avoid trouble than to present as vulnerable and be beaten down at every turn.

“Ok, here we are.”

“So what’s the plan?” Mrs Adler points a pistol at the side of the building, squeezing one eye shut as she gauges the iron sights. “I shoot the shopkeeper, while you-?”

“No! You insane?”

“Well I thought we was outlaws…?”

“Outlaws! Not idiots!" he hisses, pushing down the gun as he looks around for any witnesses. "We rob fools that rob other people! These people- they’re just tryna get by! So you head on in there, and you buy us some food to eat. And no guns.”

“Are you sure?”

“This time.” The two of you share a look again as he helps you down. “There’ll be plenty o’ time for killin’ soon enough.”

“What are you doin’?”

“I’m gonna go check the mail, nothin’ exciting.”

Sadie shrugs and saunters off. Arthur sighs and shakes his head, touching your arm. "You gonna be alright?"

"Here's hopin'."

"Any trouble, holler. Stay outta her way best you can though, alright?"

Knowing that his concern lies with your companion's open hatred for anything remotely O'Driscoll rather than your ability to defend yourself, you nod. Blowing him a cheeky kiss, he waves back at you with a grin as you enter the general store.

"-flour, oats, salt, eggs, apples if you have them..."

"Sure, not a problem,” responds the shopkeeper as he begins to gather the goods. “Big family, have you?"

"Somethin' like that." Mrs Adler barely spares you a glance as the titter of the doorbell announces your presence. "And you sell clothes?"

So Arthur had explained to her your purpose for the journey. You're flattered, if a little bewildered at this kind gesture. From the looks she’s been giving you, you’re surprised she has buried the hatchet of your past so quickly.

"We do. Not the widest range of ladies fashion, I'm afraid."

"That's alright. I'll look at everything you got."

"Of course, Mrs…?"

"Kilgore," she smirks, turning to bat her eyelids at you. You realise then that her request is completely unrelated to you. Why wouldn’t it be? You’re not the only person that has been swept into the Van der Linde gang with little more than what you were wearing on your back. From Arthur’s story, she escaped with nothing more than her wedding ring and her nightclothes, so it’s only natural that she is also in need of a new wardrobe. "What? You don't even trust me to handle the shopping by myself?"

"You're not the only one in need of new clothes, Mrs Ad- Kilgore." You force a polite smile at the sales clerk whilst Mrs Adler browses the shelves dully. "What are the biggest sizes you have in stock? Any maternity wear by chance?"

"Ain't many women round here makin' babies," he sighs, pulling out a few options. You can feel Sadie's eyes burning past you at the pile. "You're best tryin' Saint Denis or ordering outta the catalogue. There's a tailor in Blackwater I heard is pretty good for that sorta thing, but it's quite the journey-"

"Too far for me, I fear." You flick through the pages as Mrs Adler leaves to try a few things on from the pile in front of you. Writing a quick list with estimated sizing, you purchase the largest button up shirt and skirt for sale. The trousers will have to wait for another day - you know investing twenty dollars in a pair that you'll breach the waistline of in a matter of weeks is a luxury you can't especially afford right now.

Mrs Adler on the other hand spares little expense with a sturdy pair of jeans. Finally out of the cumbersome skirts, her whole character changes and suddenly you feel the same pit of dread you did when faced with a full camp of spitting Van der Lindes all those weeks ago.

Intimidated, you step outside whilst she settles the bill. You take a short wander up the main road, taking in the familiar buildings with apathy. Who would have thought you would end up here again? Now you’re not so apprehensive about your life span, you can see how rundown this dusty crumbling town is. The few shops that are open have seen better days, and the best kept building is the bank. You feel your skin crawl as you spot the large parlour houses on the horizon. Of course this place is struggling to survive - anywhere that profited from slave labour deserved to rot. Part of you hopes it’s slow perilous march to abandonment continues: it would be disappointingly merciful to see a place be lost to one good shoot out.

“I’ve birthed foals with more strength than you!” Mrs Adler’s cursing sinks your stomach as you navigate your way back to the store where a man is helping her load the cart. “Hell, my sister’s newborn had more strength than you and he came out bright blue!”

“I’m trying.”

“Try harder!”

Spotting Arthur, who is strolling back himself, fills you with relief. The shopkeeper walks back to the porch, checking the list before walking back. “I think this is everything,” he says, swinging the sack of salt on the cart.

“Thanks… here, take that for yourself, okay.” She flicks a silver coin and he catches it out of the air, scowling.

“Thanks,” he spits.

“Well, give it back then! Jesus! I didn’t ask for his goddamn help..." She pushes the sack on more securely to stop it rolling off when the cart moves. “OK, get on. I’m about done here.”

“Why don’t you drive?” suggests Arthur coolly after making sure you’re sat safely amongst the supplies. “C’mon lady, get a move on.”

She scowls as she takes the reins. “I like Sadie, not lady.”

“I know. So you get everything?”

“I think so.”

“And some… new clothes, I see?”

“Don’t start,” she sighs, the heat returning to her voice. “I can wear what I damn well want. Like I told you, my husband and I shared all the work. I wasn’t some little wife with a flower in her hair baking cherry pies all day.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that. You sure look the part now. Won’t be long before you’re smoking cigars and playin’ the harmonica.”

“I’ll have you know I used to love playing the harmonica before… well… my house and everything I owned got burned to the ground.”

“I know... I’m real sorry. About what you… you know. Maybe I’ll keep my eye out for another one.”

“I don’t want no pity,” she snaps. “Just… treat me equal and know… nobody’s taking nothing from me ever again.”

Arthur hums in comradery. “Just don’t kill the camp cook…”

A horse gallops up alongside you. “Hey there! What are you folks up to?”

“Just heading home,” says Arthur casually, adding a quiet “keep it cool, Sadie”.

“You’re in Lemoyne Raider country. You need to pay a toll to pass through here.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” The hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the anticipation of conflict. You realise with a sinking stomach that you’re completely unarmed. “How about you pull over right now?”

“Pull over?” he repeats incredulously. Your eyes scan the bags and boxes around you. There has to be something here that can double as a weapon of some kind.

“That’s what I said.”

“Hey!” calls Sadie coolly. “How’s about this?”

A pistol cracks and the Lemoyne Raider cries out in pain. She ushers the horses on with a Go, go, go! as Arthur stands up, drawing his revolvers and firing. You duck down as bullets fly over your head, your hands scrambling for anything that could be of use.

“What the hell was that?” cries Arthur furiously.

“They was gonna rob us!”

“A new pair of pants and you think you’re Landon Ricketts!” He curses loudly as more men run out in the road ahead.

“I’m gonna run this son of a bitch down!” she shouts, pulling the wagon over one raider and off the road.

“Well you wanted to see some action, lady, now you got your wish!” Arthur slings his longarm from his back and shoves it in your direction as he continues to fire. You can see more men coming out from between the trees and you take aim, knocking them down one by one as Arthur clips off any extras over your head.

“You alright there, Sadie?” you shout over the gunfire. Arthur is still firing behind you, but she’s out of your line of sight from where you’re crouched behind sacks of grain.

“Of course! You think I can’t handle these fools?” You don’t retaliate and you can almost hear her voice aim at Arthur. “Told you I could shoot a gun, didn’t I?”

“I don’t remember asking you to prove it,” he grunts, tossing you extra ammo just in case. The last bastard is fleeing south down the dirt track. You take aim, but he’s out of range.

“Yeah you run, you goddamn coward!” screams Sadie before taking a steadying breath. “I think we’re good here. Nice shooting. I’ll drive us back-”

“No! Pass those reins here!”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve caused enough trouble already.”

She doesn’t find grounds to argue, instead looking back at you, her face straight and unreadable. “We showed those bastards, huh?”

“Remind me not to get on your bad side,” Arthur scowls.

“They was clearly plannin’ to bushwhack us!” she argues, facing forward again.

“You did good, but that’s a lotta mess to make near camp. Hope it don’t bring anyone sniffin’ around.”

“Are you gonna tell Dutch?” she asks mockingly.

“Maybe… if he asks. But, maybe not.”

“So who did they say they were? Lemoyne Raiders?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that. Who knows… Anyway, don’t you go ribbing Pearson about that letter.”

“How dare you? I wouldn’t dream of it!”

“Riiight, you wouldn’t…”

“I have travelled widely, making no small name of myself…”

Arthur laughs. “I won’t be giving you no mail to post any time soon, that’s for sure.”

She chuckles too. “I just wanna peak in that journal of yours. The mind boggles.”

“Not a chance…”

“You didn’t get yourself killed then, Miss Adler?” calls Pearson, strolling over smugly as Arthur pulls up near the horse station.

“Not quite,” she responds truthfully.

“Well, I’d like to say I missed your refined conversations, but I’d be lying.”

She accepts the box shoved into her chest without complaint. “I… I enjoyed myself out there.”

“Yes, we err… Mrs Adler did ok!” He holds up his arms and lifts you down gently by your waist.

“At shopping?”

“Yes, at shoppin’...”

The double meaning doesn’t go unrecognised by Sadie who thanks him with genuine gratitude.

“Don’t mention it. I would ride with you again, Mrs Adler, if you will ride with me.”

“Maybe,” she laughs. “If you prove you can handle yourself.”

“Well, they say I lack finesse, but I ain’t afraid of gun smoke.”

“We got this, Arthur. You’ve already done me a big favour today.” Turning to you with a smile, Arthur accepts the repeater you proffer. It’s best to remain unarmed for now - there’s no need to risk one of your lesser fans finding an excuse to regard you as a threat. “Okay, Miss High and Mighty. And… nice pants by the way.”

“You okay there, Y/N?” He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you in close to his side. “You manage to find something too?”

“Just about,” you admit. “Had to put in an order. How long do you think we’ll be around here for?”

“Until we can’t most likely. Everything alright? They didn’t catch you or nothin’, did they?”

“Of course not, Arthur.” Your weak smile is genuine and heartfelt at his concern. “I’m not above shouting when I’m shot.”

“‘Course not.” He rubs your back, leading you back to your shared tent. “You gonna try them on, or what?”

“Nah, I figure I might as well make the most of still being able to fit in this stuff, even if it’s only for a few more days.”

He laughs, pulling you into a big hug. “Fair enough.”

From under his arm, you spot the rousing attention of Herr Strauss nearby. You nudge him in warning, but it’s too late.

“Ah, Herr Morgan! How are you enjoying yourself out here?”

“Well enough, I guess,” he replies gruffly. “And you?”

“Well, it turns out the pursuit of freedom is not a cheap business. Not for us, and not for some of the locals.”

“Sharking, already?”

“I prefer to call it banking.”

“You ain’t the one handing out the beatings,” snarls Arthur.

“No, but I am the one feeding the women and children in the camp,” he retorts. “What choice do we have, Mr Morgan?”

Arthur sighs. “Ah, I don’t know. Well, come on then! Tell me who…”

You stop listening as Strauss reads off a list of names, and only tune back in to hear Arthur ask how many he expects to be able to pay.

“With enough encouragement, both of them!” he chuckles, his black eyes twinkling from behind the round spectacles.

Sighing, Arthur returns to where you’re sat on the camp bed. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’d best be gettin’ on.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You stand up to kiss him. “The gang comes first.”

He grimaces at that, but doesn’t dispute it. You give him another kiss for good luck and wave him out camp before dropping the flaps, not missing the glare of bitterness from Sadie across camp.

#red dead fic #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x o'driscoll #meowdymista

[atlafan]

Maybe for a non brits blurb you could write something about getting to know Harry and like going from friends to something more with him? I feel like it’s overlooked but i know I would be flipping out given his dating history and general aura of power. He just seems low key intimidating to date if that makes sense.

a/n: this was me laughing when I read this. We love a good friends to lovers fic baby!! This is gonna have some nice cliches to keep us warm on this cold ass February evening. Okay this ended up being way longer than I thought. (fluff and a wee bit of smut towards the end.)

Getting Social

You had hit the jackpot. Social media was your passion, and after having low paying job after low paying job, a friend of yours in the PR world had connected you with Jeff. Harry Styles barely used his social media anymore, and when he did, his fans went into a frenzy, like over a simple tweet of the word “DO”. There was no deeper meaning to this, other than that he was half asleep trying to tweet something entirely different. 

Jeff wanted to hire someone to handle Harry’s social media full time. Someone to post coherent thoughts and photos for him. His fans really missed having this more personal reactions. Instagram was a little easier to run, as Jeff had given you an array of photos, and a schedule. But tweets were typically on the fly thoughts. When you interviewed for the position, you didn’t think you’d ever actually meet Harry. 

After you were hired, you were called for a meeting with Jeff and Harry. You were extremely nervous to meet the star. You weren’t a crazed fan or anything, you just knew he could come off as extremely intense. It was the way his brows would furrow that made you the most nervous. However, you pulled it together, and shook his hand politely when he entered the room. You were dressed in a red blouse, and long black pencil skirt. You wanted to look as professional as possible. 

“Y/N, we’re so happy to have you on the team. Your work speaks for itself.” Jeff says. 

“Thanks, I’m happy to be here.”

“Nice to meet you.” Harry says.

“You as well.” You smile, he smiles back. 

“We just wanted to go over how all of this would work. You said you were fine with traveling?”

“Yes, no problem with that. I’m not tied down to anything here. Family lives hours from here anyways.” You shrug. Jeff and Harry look at each other, then back to you.

“No significant other?” Harry asks. 

“Not at this time, no.”

“Well, that’ll definitely makes things easier.” Jeff says. “We’ve tried to hire for this position before, but the traveling can get to be a lot when you have someone waiting for you, or even a family of your own.”

“I love traveling, so it’s really no problem.”

“Great.” Jeff continues. “We loved your thoughts on the tweets, and you were absolutely right. Instagram can be a much more planned out endeavor, but Twitter is really about quick thoughts.”

“I was also thinking we could post more on his story?” The two furrow their eyebrows at you. “I know location privacy is very important, so we could turn all of his location info off. We could also post like after he’s in a particular place. We could share fan photos too..just so they know he still cares. We could do like fan photo Fridays. Just an idea.” The two look at each other again, then back at you. 

“S’not a terrible idea.” Harry says. “And feel free to address me directly, Jeff doesn’t make all the decisions, love.” You blink at him, and nod. “I guess as long as I knew my location wouldn’t be compromised we could do a little more of that. How do we tackle the tweets?”

“Well, I was thinking I could just go on and retweet more? Maybe even just liking more stuff that doesn’t necessarily have to do with promotion? Your Twitter looks so robotic, it’s no fun.” You say bluntly. “Social media is supposed to be fun. I know everything you say gets all turned around, but some natural responses would be good. I mean, and sorry if this is awkward, but look at what Niall’s been doing to promote his album.”

You pull up Niall Horan’s twitter on your phone, and show Jeff and Harry. After a few moments of scrolling and smirks, they hand the phone back to you. 

“As you can see, he’s having fun with it. Whether it’s really him or not, everything feels genuine, and that’s what you’re lacking, Harry, sorry to say. You may not think these things matter, but when you look at the demographic of people who follow you, I assure you, it matters.” You were proud of yourself for essentially proving your worth. 

“Oh, I like her. I think this is going to work out well.” Harry says. 

//

Things started off with you and Harry meeting on Friday mornings so you both could choose the fan photos you would share on his Instagram story. You wanted to make sure he liked the way the way he looked. Then you would have him write down any thoughts he may have had during the week that would make sense to tweet. You would use those throughout the following week to tweet out for him. Not all of them made the cut, but the fans were responding positively see him back online more. 

Harry wanted you around more. The two of you got along pretty well, and you actually had more in common than you would’ve thought. You were slowly starting to become part of his circle of friends. 

One night, a bunch of you were hanging out at his home in Malibu. It was raining out, but it didn’t put a damper on the fun. Everyone was hanging out in the kitchen when you got there. You were wearing a pair of jean shorts, white tennis shoes, and a cropped sweatshirt. You had slowly started dressing more casually the more you realized everyone else did. 

“Hey, you made it!” Harry said, giving you a hug. Your sweatshirt was soaked from the rain.

“Hit a spot of traffic. People drive like idiots in this weather.”

“Want one of my sweatshirts to wear?” Harry’s eyes grow wide when he sees your nipples peak through the material, then coughs. You cross your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, if you don’t mind. A.C. is a little strong in here, don’t ya think?”

“It got warm where we were all sittin’. I can, turn it down. Come upstairs with me so you can pick somethin’ out.” 

“Um, I think you can handle that on your own.” You smell the deliciousness from the kitchen. “I’m starving.” You walk by him, and greet everyone. 

Harry returns shortly with a small towel and a new sweatshirt. 

“Towel’s for your hair.” He smiles.

“Thanks Harry.” You give his shoulder a squeeze before you head into the bathroom to change. The sweatshirt he gave you was rather large and black. It completely covered down past your shorts, not that your shorts were very long to begin with. 

Harry admires you as you walk by him.

“Think you could’ve given me a bigger sweatshirt, this one’s not big enough.” You nudge him. He sticks his tongue out at you. “You guys feel like moving to the living room for a movie?”

Everyone agrees with you. You knew none of you would pay attention to a movie, but it was something to do. People were getting set up on the couches, some opting for the floor. There was one large recliner left. You and Harry looked at, at each other, then back to the chair. You both raced over and sat down at the time time. 

“Would you please move your big butt, I was here first.” You say playfully. 

“Oh, I have a big butt?”

“A proper bubble butt!” You giggle. “Now move.”

“There’s room for the both of us.” He says with a smile.

“Not unless you wanna sit on my lap there’s not.” Harry shifts and sits on your lap. “Get off! You’re crushing me!”

“Quit overrating, I’m as light as a feather.” He jokes. 

“Harry!” You whine. 

“Fine.” He gets off of you. “Wanna sit on my lap?”

“Not particularly.” You say sitting sideways in the chair. “But thanks for giving up the space for me. You’re such a good little host.” You say with a slight sarcasm to your tone. He rolls his eyes at you. 

“Can I get anyone anythin’ from the kitchen? Doin’ a drink run.” 

Harry takes drink orders from his friends, and heads into the kitchen. You’re talking with one of the girls when Mitch comes over to you. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

“Sup, Mitch?” You smile at your friend. 

“Got a sec? Something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Sure!”

You get up and follow him down the hall. No one pays the two of you attention.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, um, this is sort of awkward, but he’s really trying.”

“Who’s trying?”

“Harry.”

“What’s he trying to do?”

“Flirt with you. He likes you, obviously.”

“That’s flirting? We act like that with each other all the time. We’re just friends, Mitch.” 

“But...he likes you.”

“Has he told you?”

“Not in so many words. Haven’t you noticed he hasn’t been hooking up with randoms as often?” You roll your eyes. 

Part of being Harry’s social media rep meant having to make sure his little rendezvous went unnoticed. It wasn’t like he was a sex addict or anything, but he definitely got it when he wanted it. 

“I hadn’t really noticed. I try not to pay too much to his personal affairs.” 

“So, you wouldn’t even give him a chance?”

“How often does this happen? A new girl is added to the friend group, and then what? He starts hooking up with them, and then it ends? Isn’t that the situation with like half of the girls in there?” Mitch sighs. “Exactly. I’m not getting mixed up with all that.” 

The two of you go back into the living room, Harry had taken your sit. You stand in front of him with your hands on your hips. He thought you looked incredibly cute in the oversized sweatshirt. 

“Can I help you?”

“You took my seat.”

“Technically, it’s my seat love. I own it.” You roll your eyes at him. “Lap’s still open though.” He grins at you. 

“I’ll pass.” You turn around and sit on the floor in front of him. 

You all decide on a movie, a romantic comedy at Harry’s request. You end up leaning back against his chair, and Harry’s legs were at either side of you. He started absentmindedly playing with your hair. You let out a soft sigh at his touch, and leaned your head back further. You would never say no to someone playing with your hair. He loved your hair too. It was long, brown (with blonde highlights that you had done every six weeks on the dot) , and it always smelled like apples. You close your eyes as his fingers continue, and you feel yourself drift off slightly. He looks over at Mitch, who gives him a thumbs up. Everyone in the room knew he had a thing for you. 

You were woken up by the sound of everyone laughing at some scene. You sat up, and moved to lay on your stomach. Harry frowned at the loss of contact from you. After the movie, everyone agreed it was late, and due to the never ending rain, it would be a good idea to get going. 

Harry hated going from a full house of people to no one. But everyone had their own lives, it couldn’t be about him all the time. 

“Hey, do you know where my sweatshirt ended up?” 

“I threw it in the dryer for a bit, one sec.” Harry left and came back with your sweatshirt. 

“Thanks!” You hugged the material to your face. “Nice and warm.” You turned around to take his sweatshirt off, revealing just a cropped tank top, and then quickly put yours back on. You tossed his back to him. “Thanks again for the loaner.”

“Any time. Glad you could make it out tonight.” He smiled at you. 

“Same here.” He stepped forward to hug you, but you stepped back, making his face fall. “Well, goodnight Harry.” 

“Um...goodnight.” 

//

A few weeks passed and you started picking up on more of Harry’s flirty behavior that Mitch had told you about. You found yourself always being placed next to him on flights, dinners, and wherever else he needed you to be. Your one year work anniversary was coming up, and he wanted to do something special for you. In your weekly Friday meeting, he brought it up.

“Can you believe you’ve been with me for almost a year?” You squinted at his phrasing. 

“It’s been great being part of your team, Harry. Best job I’ve ever had.”

“I’m really glad we’re, um, friends too. Everyone loves you.”

“Nice of you to say.” You say, looking at your laptop. 

“I was thinkin’...I’d like to celebrate our, your anniversary.” You turn to face him, and raise an eyebrow. 

“What exactly were you thinking?” 

“How ‘bout a holiday? Go away somewhere tropical for a bit.”

“Seems like a bit much for just a work anniversary.”

“Also an excuse to get away and relax. Been sorta stressed lately, love.”

“So, you wanna use me working for you for a year as an excuse for a vacation?”

“Don’t say it like that. You don’t work for me, you work with me.” You smirk at him. “There’s that smile.” 

“Oh stop it. Look, I’ll think about it, okay? Can we get to the work that this meeting is for now?”

“Yes.” He hands you the piece of paper with the notes for some tweets. 

“Why does this one have a star next to it?”

“Because I found that thought to be particularly funny, and I’ve noticed that sometimes the things I think are funny don’t always make the cut, so I wanted to make sure that made it.”

“You know, you are allowed to tweet things yourself. You don’t have to wait for me.” You laugh looking at his note. “This is pretty funny.” 

“Thank you, I was pretty proud of that one.” 

//

You agreed to a five day getaway to Aruba with Harry. You didn’t think much of it when it was just the two of you from your gang on the plane. You figured they were catching a different flight. 

Harry was very sweet at the airport. He carried all of your luggage, rented a car for the two of you, and drove you to the condo you’d be staying in for the next few days. 

“S’not a big place. It’s part of a timeshare association. I’m actually renting it from a friend.”

“Oh that’s fine. It’s probably bigger than all my apartments.”

“You know, you could just stay with me when we’re in Malibu. My house has so much space, it doesn’t make sense for you to pay for two different places.”

“I’m not living with you, Harry.” You squeeze his arm. “But I appreciate it.” 

You get to the condo pretty quickly, and Harry takes your bags to the room after checking in. You already loved it here. It was humid, but there was a breeze, and zero paps. Harry unlocked the door. You didn’t question that it was only one room, you figured there would be a few bedrooms for everyone to stay in. The cool air hit you as you both walked in, giving some relief from the humidity. 

As you walked around to explore, you got extremely confused and angry.

“Harry.” 

“Yeah?”

“Why does this place only have one actual bedroom?”

“I told you it wasn’t huge.”

“Where is everyone supposed to fit?”

“What do you mean everyone?”

“Um, our friends?”

“None of them had anniversaries. This trip is just for the two of us, thought that was clear.” He shrugs, wheeling both bags of luggage into the bedroom. You snatch yours from his hand. “What?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Harry! Don’t you see what’s wrong with this picture?” You gesture to the space. “I am not staying along with you here for an entire week.”

“S’not a week, it’s five days.”

“Don’t be fresh with me.”

“You sound like my mother.” He smirks. “Would ya relax.”

“No! Where the fuck am I supposed to sleep?” He gives you a confused look, and looks at the large bed in the bedroom.

“Love, it’s a king size bed.” You start laughing out of exasperation.

“You are crazy if you think I’m sleeping in the same bed as you.”

“It’s a huge bed, we won’t even be touchin’.” You scoff. “What?”

“What do I look like an idiot? I know how you are.”

“Excuse me?” Not wanting to start an even bigger fight, you decided to let it go.

“Never mind.” You walk over to the couch in the living room, and take the pillows off. You sigh with relief. “Oh thank god.”

“What?”

“It’s a pull out. I can sleep out here, and I’ll use the hall bath.”

“Shower’s in the bedroom.” You glare at him.

“Guess we’ll have to take turns, won’t we.” 

“Would ya stop bein’ a baby? We’re two adults aren’t we? No way you’ll last five nights on that thing.”

He was right. You weren’t a great sleeper when it came to traveling. An actual mattress would be much more comfortable. 

“Jesus, I really hate you right now. You’ve backed me into a corner.” You wheel your luggage into the bedroom, and angrily unpack your things. 

You calm down a bit when you see how beautiful the bathroom is. There was a huge tub, and a giant walk in shower. You could already see yourself relaxing in a giant bubble bath. 

“Nice, isn’t it?” Harry brushes past you to put his toiletries away. “We need to go to the grocery store to pick out what we want for snacks and stuff. There’s food on site, but none of it’s complimentary. I figured we could do the breakfast buffet a couple times, but we might want stuff here for ourselves. We’ll eat out most dinners.”

“Alright, sounds good. When we get back can we go down to the pool, I need to cool off.”

“You bet.”

Harry was fun to grocery shop with. He pushed the cart while you picked out things you liked to eat. He agreed with just about everything you picked out. He paid for everything. Groceries were more expensive in Aruba. You worked together to put everything away. 

Harry changed into his little yellow swim shorts and a white t-shirt while you changed into your bathing suit. It was a simple high waisted black bikini. You took the straps off the top so you wouldn’t have tan lines. You threw on a large t-shirt as a cover up, and slid on your flip flops.

“Ready?” He asks.

“Yup. What do we do for towels?”

“They’re down by the pool.” He smiles. 

You both get a couple towels, and put them on your chairs. Harry was smart to remember to bring down some sunscreen. You took your shirt off, and laid it on the back of the chair. Harry’s eyes went wide looking at you. He had never seen you in such little clothing. You bend over in front of him to put your hair up in a messy bun. When you look at him he quickly looks away. 

“Would you mind putting some sunscreen on my back?” You ask him.

“Um, sure.” He swallows hard, and squirts some in his hands. He rubs his hands together to warm it up, and he massages it into your shoulders and upper back. 

“Can you get the bit of my lower back too?”

“Mhm.”

“And make sure to get under the top, I’ve been burned there before, no fun.” 

You hold the front of your top up while Harry nervously rubs sunscreen underneath the back.

“Kay, all set.” 

“Thanks.” You snatch the bottle from him, and lather the rest of yourself up. He takes his shirt off while you do this. “Turn around.”

“I’m gonna lay on m’back.”

“Still need to get those shoulders, and the back of your neck.” 

Harry turns around, and bends his knees a bit so you can reach his shoulders easily. You rub all over his back, and give him a little slap when you’re done. 

You put your headphones and listen to some music while Harry reads from his book. You had thoroughly calmed down from earlier. You drift and snooze for a little over an hour. You stand up and stretch once you’re awake. Harry watches you, peering up from his book. 

“Gonna go for a swim.” You say to him, and he nods. 

You slowly get into the heated pool, and it feels amazing. You loved swimming more than most things. Harry watches you spin around in the water, and loved the giant smile on your face. You were careful not to get your hair wet. 

“Harry, come in with me, the water feels great.” 

“Alright.”

Harry gets up and joins you in the water. The pool, and area, you were in was smaller than where the other pool was. There was mostly older people around you that didn’t know or care who Harry was. He ducked his head under the water, and pushed his hair back when he came back up. 

It’s not that you weren’t attracted to Harry. You thought he was extremely handsome. You just knew how he was. He didn’t have the best track record with the people he dated. You enjoyed being his friend so much, you didn’t want hooking up to complicate things. You also didn’t want to risk doing anything that could lose you your job. You loved what you did every day. How many people could say that?

“It’s a nice suit, by the way.” He says, leaning against the edge of the pool.

“Oh, thanks.” You blush. “I got it at that boutique last time we were in New York.” 

“You have great taste in clothes. Don’t know if I’ve ever told ya that.” 

“Says the fashion icon himself.” You look away, then back at him. “What do you feel like doing for dinner tonight?”

“Gettin hungry, love?”

“Yeah.” 

“Well, we could stay in tonight. I don’t know if I feel like putting proper dinner clothes on.”

“Me either, we bought plenty of food. Oh! We could have pancakes tonight.”

“Brilliant idea.”

After a little more time in the pool, you both dry off, and go back to your room. You both hang out in your bathing suits for a bit while you get all the things to make pancakes. You decide to change into a pair of jean shorts, feeling uncomfy in your bathing suit bottoms. You leave the top on though. 

You and Harry giggle as you flip the the pancakes, and scarf them down. 

“Feel like seein’ if there’s a movie on? We could watch it in bed.” He says. You squint at him, still annoyed about your sleeping situation. You sigh. 

“Sure, just let me change into my jammies.” 

You take out a a pair of shirts and a t-shirt. You change in the bathroom, then wash your face and brush your teeth. You take your hair out of it’s bun. Harry had changed into a pair of boxers, and was laying on the bed with one of his arms tucked behind his head, the remote in the other hand. You cross your arms over your chest, not wanting him to see you’re not wearing a bra. You had seen Harry in nothing but his boxers plenty of times, so you didn’t feel uncomfortable. 

You climb onto the large bed, and set as far away form him as possible. 

“So, what are we watching?”

“Think we’ll be watchin’ this marathon of Chopped. Nothin’ else good is on.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll probably fall asleep soon anyways.” You lean over and turn your bedside table lamp off, and get under the covers. 

“You’re awfully far away.” 

“Don’t start with me.”

“Are you really that uncomfortable with this?”

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable, this is just all very presumptuous of you that I’d be okay with sharing a room with you. Let alone a bed.” You keep your eyes on the TV. “Ted, get out of the fucking way! Jesus, I hate when he goes to talk to them, and then he distracts them.” Harry chuckles at how invested you get with the show. 

“Oi, look at this one going for the ice cream maker, real fucking original.”

“She’s lucky she didn’t chopped from the last round with that sorry excuse for a risotto.” You both laugh. 

Harry gets up to do his nightly routine, and turns his light off after getting back into bed.

“Ready for me to turn it off?”

“Sure.” 

He fell asleep pretty quickly, as you lay there staring at the ceiling. How could he be so calm about all of this. You secretly wondered if he would try to cuddle with you. But at the end of the Harry was a gentleman. You finally fell asleep, but not for long. 

“Mornin’.” Harry saying coming into the kitchen with a blanket wrapped around him. 

“Hey.” You say eating some cereal.

“You sleep alright?”

“Meh.” You say. He frowns. “Wasn’t cause of you though. I never sleep good the first night I go somewhere.” 

The two of you spend the day at the each, enjoying the beautiful sand and warm water. Harry picked you up and threw you in a couple times. You managed to grab onto him and dunk him a few times yourself. The whole day was fulled with laughter. 

That night for dinner her took you to a club that had live music. You wore your hair down and wore a blue sundress. Harry wore a shirt that was mostly open and a pair of shorts. He stands and extends a hand out to you.

“What?” 

“Let’s dance.” Harry never danced, he was truly on vacation mode. You had a few drinks in you, so you shrugged your shoulders and took his hands. 

It was simple, fast paced dancing at first, but his hands never left yours. The band started to play a slower song. You both nervously smiled at each other. Harry’s hands went to your hips, and yours went on his shoulders. You two sink into the dance as he pulls you closer to him, leaning your head on his chest. He hums into your ear and goosebumps raise on your skin. 

When you get back to the room later you struggle to unzip your dress while you’re in the bathroom. You crack the door. 

“Harry.” You whine. 

“Yeah, love?”

“Can you please help me?” He practically jumps from the bed. He opens the door wider. Your chest was flushed from the alcohol. His skin was already golden brown from the two days of sun. 

“Turn around.” He says. You turn and move your hair. He unzips your dress for your as you cross your arms over your chest. You weren’t wearing a bra with your dress since it had one built in. 

You turn to face him, your cheeks rosy. 

“Need help with anythin’ else?” He asks, not breaking eye contact.

“Like what?” He shrugs his shoulders. His hand cups your cheek, you close your eyes and lean into his touch. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” You open your eyes and shake your head no. “Well, you are. You’re so beautiful. I’ve thought so since we met.”

“Oh, stop it.” You push him out of the bathroom, and close the door. Your dress falls to your feet. You change into a pair of shorts and a tank top. You walk out arms crossed over your chest. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed. 

“You don’t have to keep doin’ that, I know what boobs look like.”

“You don’t need to know what my boobs look like.” You say standing in front of him.

“Why not?”

“Because we’re friends.” He scoffs. “Not to mention I fucking work for you, Harry.”

“So?”

“So?! Okay great, so let’s just fuck and then you’ll get what you want, and then you can fire me like nothing ever happened!” He stands up and gets in your face, but you step back.

“Is that really what you think of me? After all this time we’ve known each other.”

“Harry, I have seen so many people leave your hotel room over this last year, I’m exhausted just looking at you.”

“I haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while.”

“You want a fucking award?”

“Why are you so god damn stubborn? You have to like me too, you just have to.”

“Why, because you’re Harry Styles?”

“No, because you know better than anyone else. I like you, a lot. I think we should be together. It wouldn’t effect your job in the slightest.” 

“This was your plan the whole time wasn’t it? Get me alone on a romantic vacation, show me this side of yourself so I’ll agree to being with you.” He doesn’t say anything. “That’s what I thought. You’re always doing sneaky shit like this. How hard would it to have been to just talk to me about how you were feeling? I’m not the sweep me off my feet kind of girl. You know what’s really sexy? Proper fucking communication.”

“Alright! I like you! I like you so much, and I have for a while. I think you’re incredibly brilliant, and yeah I do wanna fuck you. I wanna give you a proper fucking shag, you know you’re fucking gorgeous.”

“I’m not a model, you like to date models.”

“I’ve dated like one model, and that just happened to be her job.”

“Yeah, and you made an entire album about how much you loved fucking her. Kind of hard to compete with that, Harry.” You huff.

“What, are you jealous?”

“Not in the slightest.” 

“Do you care about any of the other things I just said?”

“Mm, so romantic, you screaming that you wanna fuck me.” You say sarcastically. 

“You don’t want to fuck me? You don’t want to even consider being with me?” His eyes were tired and sad. 

“If we do this, there’s no going back, and it scares the shit out of me. What if I lose you? That would literally kill me.” 

“You couldn’t lose me.” He wraps his arms around you and presses you to his chest. “I want you around me all the time, can’t you see that?” He lets go to take your face in his hands. 

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol, or the adrenaline from the argument, but what you did next took you both by surprise. It had been a while since you were intimate with someone, so you may have gotten a little too excited. 

You pushed Harry, hard, so he falls on his back on his bed. You get right up on his lap straddling him. He sits himself up to look at you. 

“You really want this? With me?” You ask.

“More than you could ever know.” 

You lace your fingers through his hair and crash your lips to his. It felt so good it practically burned, your tongues finding each other in seconds. His hands go to your ass right away and he squeezes you with his large hands. 

It felt like your clothes came off immediately, and you found your self on your back, with your legs over his shoulders. The rumors were true, he loved eating out. Every lick and flick of his tongue was done with suck expertise, it astounded you. Every groan he let out against you fucking sent you, and you found yourself moaning out his name as you came undone on his tongue.

“So sweet.” He says bringing his head up, licking his swollen lips. “I’ve wanted to know for so long what you tasted like. I’ve thought about it so many times.”

“Really?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” 

He hovers over you, and rubs tip against your clit, making you both moan.

“Do you have condoms with you?” 

“Um...I think so.”

“Okay, go put one on.”

“You’re not on birth control?”

“I am.” He blinks at you. “Harry, no offense, but you’ve been with a lot of people, and until you get tested, I’m not letting that thing inside me without a condom.” 

He pretends to be offended, but gets off the bed to rummage for a condom. He slides it on once he finds it, and gets back on the bed. 

He slowly slides inside you as you grip his shoulders. He was big, maybe even a little too big. He stays inside you for a moment, giving you some time to get used to him. He starts to move slowly as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You don’t have to be gentle with me.” You say into his ear. “I can take it.”

“You want it hard, baby?”

“Yes, please.” 

Harry pulls out of you almost the way, then slams inside you. You arch of the bed a little. 

“Do it again.” He smirks, and does as you say. 

He fucks you like this for the majority of the time. You tighten around him, and grind against him, coming very close to another release. 

“Fuck, Harry.” Your head goes back into the pillow as you come again. You tighten yourself around. “Want you to come too.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, please come for me Harry.” 

He quickens his motions, and they become sloppy. He moans out your name as he fills the condom, and collapses on top of you. You run your hands through his hair. He slowly pulls out of you and hiss at the loss of him. He gets up to dispose of the condom, then joins you once again. 

Harry pulls you onto his sweaty chest to hold you. 

“How was that, love?”

“Your dick is huge.” You both start giggling. “But in all seriousness, it was great.” You kiss him on the cheek. “It had, uh, been a while for me.”

“Same here, didn’t think I was gonna last as long as I did. You felt incredible.” You nuzzle into him. 

“What happens now?”

“Well, we have three days left here, then it’s back to reality. I’d love to take you on a real date when we get back to California. I could cook for you at home. You know, see where it all goes.” 

“Or I could just start calling you my boyfriend, and skip all that crap.” He looks down at you. 

“Works for me.” 

“Great. So, um, how many condoms did you bring with you?”

“Why, ready for a second round?”

You move to get on top of him, straddling his hips. 

“You said you’ve thought about this before. I wanna fulfill every fantasy you’ve had.” Harry swallows hard. Amazed that he get to see this side of you. 

//

You spent the next three days in and out of the room. You tried to enjoy the sun and warm water, but you both found yourselves wanting to just be alone and explore each other’s bodies. It was the most passionate sex you’ve ever had. 

You loved what you did every day. How many people got to say that? 

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #fluff #smut #this was meant to be a blurb #then two hours later this happened #hope you like!

[iwantutobehapppier]

Nobody Loves No One (1/?)

Pairing: Bucky x Enhanced Female Reader

Summary: You know one thing, James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy and you weren't. When he inserts himself into your family drama and past can you show you're worthy of his trust or deign to hurt him as most of life has?

Word Count: 4,312

Warnings: Eventual Smut, night terrors, angst, verbal abuse, implied abuse, canon typical violence, and cursing. 18 and older only

A/N: This is something I’ve been working on for a while. I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m not sure how many chapters it will break up into. I am still working on the 2k requests I promise! I just really wanted to get this out there after months of working on it. I once saw a note on an AO3 story where it said “Continues to aggressively ignore canon” that's how it is here. Steve didn't go to the past, Avengers Compound rebuilt and everyone is alive. I hope you all enjoy! Reblogs and comments welcomed!

There wasn't a moment you knew him that you didn't trust him. The harsh realization that you never felt this way about anyone else, family included, made keeping him at a distance the only option but hard to follow through with. 

He noticed right away, after all, he was trained in the art of reading a situation. Honestly, you weren't trying to be subtle just trying to protect. This only made him seek you out more.

James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy, you weren't.

You killed for fun in the past, enjoyed the hunt and more than anything lived for the warmth of your enemy’s blood spilling down your hands. Winter Soldier didn't have a choice in his killings but you did and you always made the right choice, at least when you got older.

You became an Avenger to circumvent jail time and the killing became more methodical and less for pleasure. It was to complete the mission not bask in the trail of destruction you could cause. The first time you killed someone like the old days on a mission was in front of Steve and Bucky. 

Blood from your broken nose covered your upper lip and chin. When the HYDRA agent punched you square in the jaw you screamed out, not in pain. 

With a glower, you grabbed the startled agent by the shoulders and chucked him to the ground using your superhuman strength.

You whipped your boot knife out and fell on top of them using the momentum of your fall to push the blade completely into their chest. A gleeful smile pulled at your lips, your eyes dilated in pleasure watching the light fade from the shocked face of your adversary.

Steve calls out your name, you look up to the sight of him and Bucky charging towards you.

"We heard you scream," Steve’s voice trailed off, he slowed his approach at your blood-stained teeth on display in a sadistic smile. 

Bucky continued forward, the deranged look did a lot to him but never a deterrent.

"You alright Toots?" You cocked your head to the side at the sound of his voice. The smile slipped from your face looking down in practiced shame.

"I'm fine." A hollow whisper.

Bucky stood next to you placing his metal hand under your chin forcing you to face up.

"Come on, there are more goons you can stab like a lunatic." You stood up your eyes hooded as an unhinged smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

They saw you in your most primal and pleasure-filled state, where Steve was cautious Bucky became fascinated.

He spent more time with you outside of missions, even had you watch movies during your joined insomnia fits. You learned he had a sweet tooth but only if cherry flavored or chocolate. He loved documentaries, he had watched Cosmos five times. When you introduced him to NOVA the two of you spent an entire night watching your favorites.

He told you about HYDRA late nights when the majority of the team would be away on missions, the violence and how it hurt when they'd wipe the slate clean. He only felt safe sharing in isolation, worried others could overhear even across the compound.

You joked once that it didn't matter after the data dump everyone knew. He was hurt at first but understood you were only trying to spare him the need to hide who he had been.

"Tell me somethin’ no one knows." He leaned into you on the bench at the lake dock. The stars and waning moon illuminating your furrowed brow in memory.

"I was 13 when I killed someone for the first time." The shame you had trained yourself to feel when enjoying death didn't come. Instead, you felt that smile Bucky liked to see on missions pulled at your lips.

"13 eh? What'd they do?" His eyes drifting towards you, that smile made him want to kiss you. Your lack of shame and his abundance something that drew the two of you together. A dysfunctional balance.

"Short version?” You ignored his gaze knowing he would look but never touch inappropriately. “He was touching a friend of mine in a way no adult should so I made sure he couldn't touch anyone ever again." You felt him tense as you leaned against him sharing the bench. A fleeting thought of maybe you shouldn’t have shared this chased away when his metal arm wrapped around your shoulders fingers so gentle curled around your shoulder.

"That was the first time I learned someone could bleed out. I didn't mean to kill him honestly just wanted him to stop." Your tone petulant.

A rough chuckle fell from his lips causing your body to shake as you remain against him. His arm pulled your back almost flat to his chest.

"Well Toots I'm sure ya learned real quick how to let 'em bleed without dying on ya"

You nodded your head in agreement, lesson learned indeed. You laid down, your head on his lap, a hand behind his head you toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Before Bucky would be embarrassed at the sudden intimacy but now he closes his eyes, an unconscious soft rumble pulled from deep in his chest past his lips. 

Touching him with such ease was a slow progression that only happened in private. Neither of you ashamed but both apprehensive to show such affection openly. You could recall a time he would remain tense when your hand would rest on top of his. The ease in which you touched him slowly opened him to reciprocate and now you often found each other in such intimate but innocent embraces. 

"You?"

"What people assume is a Nazi back in '43," there's a pause, gauging whether he could trust you as you trusted him. Like a fool he did.

"The truth is?" You implored he huffed, pushing your hair from your face he rested his metal arm on your stomach the other at the top of your head gently caressed the furrow wrinkles on your forehead.

"A guy Steve tried to stop from knifin’ this lady in an ally. He nicked Steve's arm and I lost it." Bucky took a deep breath, his metal hand on your stomach bunched up your shirt in a fist.

"I was so scared of Steve bein’ killed...I couldn’ stop myself. I only realized the guy was unconscious when Steve started yellin’ my name." Bucky swallow audible. "Saw his obit' in the paper a few days later."

"So we both didn't mean to." A short laugh escapes your lips.

"Accidental murders?" You shake your head at the idea.

"No never an accident. Always with intent even if I didn't know he'd bleed out I never regretted what I did to him." He was silent at that, you both knew he couldn't say the same there was too much unintentional and innocent blood on his hands. 

"So how'd a 13-year-old girl get rid of a body?" You grimace and turn to face the lake, his metal hand slinking up your raised shirt. The cool metal hand resting on your lower stomach. He never pushed boundaries, though you would never admit it out loud you wished he would.

"Uh, so my father's a butcher and well he had this industrial meat grinder." Bucky's brows shot up.

"Oh, please tell me you pulled a Sweeney Todd?" Bucky’s love of musicals endearing especially when you’d catch him humming or the rare chance singing under his breath.

"My father would have killed me," you paused Bucky noticed the far off look in your eyes as you took in the softening hues of the horizon. 

"I told him the next day after I put the remains in the dump.” You trailed off remembering your father’s tantrum. “He was upset don't get me wrong but I think that was the first time he was proud of me." With a bitter laugh, you sat up. Bucky pulled his hands from you with remorse, he wished he could remain in an intimate embrace forever, even if he didn't deserve such pleasures.

"But daddy issues will have to be for another night because looks like dawn is breaking." You nodded your head across the lake.

"Hmm, I like a girl with daddy issues." Bucky joked but you were fairly certain he meant it.

"I've got more than you can handle Barnes." You both stand stretching out your stagnant muscles before making way back to the compound to start another day with minimal sleep. Walking ahead you missed his last remark.

"You've got no idea how much I can handle toots."

Late one night you returned from a mission with Natasha. Parting ways you made your way to your quarters when halfway down the hall you hear soft whimpers, pausing you listen for where they could be coming from. 

An agonizing cry carries through the door to your right. Bucky. Your heart began to race as you put your hand on the door handle. If he was hurting you didn’t want him to be alone. But was it your place to encroach in his personal life like this? You two were friends, close friends, but was this a boundary you could cross?

The whimpering starts back up and before you can think further you’re entering the room. It’s dark, but you can make out Bucky’s form tossing on his bed. You place one knee on the bed leaning over him, trailing your hand up to his flesh arm gently, trying to rouse him from his inner demons.

“Bucky,” The docile tone barely carries but it's enough for him to still, with your other hand you brush his hair off his damp forehead. His brow softens and you hate the way your heart flutters in response. 

He rolls over to his side, his back to you and you remove your hand from his arm hoping this was enough to ease his demons for the night. A metal hand quickly wraps around our wrist. You try not to react, keeping yourself calm.

“Stay,” His voice is sleep ridden, the deep richness much more alluring than should be possible. He tugs your arm and you fall onto his bed. Your chest against this back.

“Please” You ache, his voice shaky and vulnerable, you wrap your arm around him, placing your palm center in his chest and rest your head on your bent arm. 

“Of course,” Is all you can muster as he burrows into you. His breath evening out quickly. 

When morning comes you aren’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this. Your fingers curl into a soft shirt as sleep began to fade, laying on your stomach your cheek pressed against warm firm muscles. Your eyes snap open and lookup.

Clear blue eyes peer down at you, Bucky halfway propped up against his headboard. The soft side smile curling on his lips makes stupid fluttering in your chest again. Oh, this was not good. Bucky’s arms curled around your back pushing you into him. Or was this perfect?

“Morning Toots,” the timbre of his voice pulls you back to reality. 

“Morning,” Slowly sitting up to one side of the bed you stretch your arms above your head looking around. It hadn’t been even 4 hours since you crawled in bed with him but it felt like you had a full night rest. Looking out the corner of your eyes you catch Bucky still watching you. 

“Thanks for last night,” A warm hand rests on your back, it's comforting in a way you can barely remember feeling in your life. 

“Of course,” you mutter feeling uncomfortable with your own emotions. Bucky raises a brow at the shift, clouds forming over his eyes insecurity at seeing and hearing about his night terrors two different things.

“I mean,” You try to recover, not wanting to hurt him with your own damage. “Of course I’d be there for you.” looking at your lap you finger the hem of your sleep wrinkled shirt. “There’s  no one I’d be there for more,” you look back at him bitting your lower lip, “Thank you Bucky.”

Something shifted, his eyes softening with an easy smile. You squeak when he pulls you back into the pillows. 

“Alright Toots,” he mutters, your head below his chin both facing upward. “Let’s watch some morning cartoons then maybe breakfast?”

You nod your head unable to utilize your voice at this intimacy. 

"I told you I'd take care of it just like I told you never to call me." Bucky paused at your cracked door, alarmed by the uncharacteristic rush of words and panic in your voice.

"They aren't gonna do shit," he knew he shouldn't be listening on what was clearly a private conversation but he could never stop himself when it came to you.

"Pops, they know if they pull anything I'll take them down and this time it won't be innocent getting hurt. They're all plenty guilty." Bucky could hear your teeth grind together spitting the words out.

Bucky could make out an older male voice saying your name with worry over the phone thanks to the serum enhancements. Worry over what was still unclear.

"They came round last night is all and gave their cryptic bullshit." Loud coughing came through on the phone  "I thought you should know. Don't let me stop you from playing the superhero."

When the cell phone beeped for end call Bucky made his way towards his room. 

He didn't see you again that day until he came to your door to see what movie you'd like to watch later. You were pulling your worn leather jacket on and the look on your face told him he wasn't going to like whatever you had to say.

"I'm sorry Buck but I gotta take care of some personal matters and I don't know how late I'll be." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in worry. Missing time with Bucky seems like a crime considering how close you two had grown over the months.

He wanted to say I heard you on the phone don't do whatever stupid thing you might be doing alone but all he could get out was "That's alright, you want some company?"

"Nah, I think I should go it alone. Maybe next time?" You offered. Wouldn't it be nice to introduce him to your family? Pretend for a moment both of you weren't cracked pieces but instead friends with normal nuclear families.

But you didn't play pretend, not anymore.

"Be safe Toots." You left with nothing else.

He followed you if you wouldn't invite him along he'd at least keep an eye on you. Bucky knew you would only be upset if he got in the way but also knew if you needed help you weren’t someone to ask for it. Your tone on that call left him feeling uneasy about you going alone, while you didn’t need protecting Bucky couldn’t help the way he felt. 

He almost lost you right away when Steve just had to show him this cute video he found online.

"I've gotta go, man!" Bucky's knees bounced erratically as he sat at the table waiting for Steve to pull the video up on his tablet.

"Jeez, where do you even need to be?" Steve muttered navigating the tablet.

"I've got stuff going on outside this place." Steve eyed Bucky but nodded his head. 

"I can't find it right now anyway. Go on and stop acting like you've got ants in your pants." Bucky took off before Steve had even finished.

By the time he caught up, you had passed Hackensack and still heading south. Where you going into the city? He knew you were from the city but not sure where.

Keeping a safe distance you both made it to Staten Island. He shook his head taking in the sights of what used to be bustling areas of Staten Island now run down with some abandoned industrial buildings and overpopulated projects.

When you stopped in front of a butchery he knew this was the place and grabbed his trusted Betsy, useful in keeping a proper eye on you and safe. Not that you needed a lot of help with the latter. Looking across the street at the destitute multi-family building he decided that would be the most advantageous. 

You walked into the brick worn store feeling nostalgia and apprehension all at once with the dinging of the doorbell atop the door frame.

"Pops?" You called out trailing your fingers across the wrapped hanging meats. He hadn't moved the unsold meat to the walk-in yet. You remembered long-lasting bruises from beatings over not getting the meat back in the chiller before dinner.

Your name was called out from the back but it sounded strained. Your brow creased, slowly making your way to the back end of the establishment.

Taking notice of the walk-in fridge door open and the yellowed overexposed strip curtains flapping you called out for your dad once more and his response sounding strained still from inside the fridge.

Standing a few feet in front of the barely see through curtains you could make out what appeared to be your dad in a chair. If you weren't suspicious before you knew now, things weren't right.

You took one step closer to the walk-in before someone charged out, a pipe in hand. Grabbing the pipe before it could impact, you head butt the would-be assailant gaining a sick satisfaction from the sound of their skull cracking. Your enhanced strength and skeletal makeup always fun for taking out bad guys.

A forearm wrapped around your neck from behind, you managed to get one hand between the arm and your neck to keep direct pressure off. Feeling the muscle in the arm and chest now pressed against your back you knew this one would take more work.

With a macabre smile, you began to charge the two of you back to the front of the shop slamming their back into a meat display case. Once the grip loosened from the behind, you flipped him from behind by holding the back of his neck, letting him land on his ass in front of you. Without missing a beat you snap his neck and release him to crumple on the floor.

"How many more?" You grunted.

"I don't know shithead maybe 20? They went upstairs." Your father's hoarse voice called from the walk-in. As you passed by and lifted a curtain slat to make sure he was alright you noticed the worn lines along his face you were unfamiliar with. In the past decade of your life, you had avoided him as much as possible, unwilling to subject yourself to his verbal abuse.

"You gonna die on me old man?" Helping him stand you took a catalog of his wounds nothing seemed severe, appearing they only roughed him up saving the lethal force for you.

Making your way up to your father's flat just above the shop you tried to quell the fluttering in your chest at the thought of all the carnage you were about to unleash. Seeing the light underneath the door you were almost giddy with excitement. No Avengers here to see the delight you took in pain.

Rolling your shoulders back and cracking your neck you whipped out two knives and kicked the door in, sending it off its hinges and into the room. The men inside are dressed in the typical mog sleaze attire you almost roll your eyes but knew better. They charged and you retaliated. 

The sound of a window shattering followed by bodies drop you around you and high power rounds freeze your assailants in place but you fall to the floor for protection. 

They brought a sniper?!

You were stunned as the men sent to attack you had bullets flying through their skulls. With a grimace, you stood back up realizing who was behind the gun. 

"Bucky," you hissed in agitation.

Taking out a guy charging to your right from the kitchen with a quick uppercut feeling the jaw crush at impact and foot to the chest cracking ribs and sending them flying into a wall, you made your way over the pile of bodies to the shattered window.

Stilling you heard the baseboards behind you creak, ducking you whip your head back and smiled at the sound of a whizzing bullet flying through the air. The man behind you falling to the ground.

Standing up straight you lifted the holey curtain to the side looking up at the rooftop across the street. 

Under the cover of darkness, you could make out his metal hand giving a two-finger wave and his stupid handsome boyish smile. Nodding your head in thanks, you made your way back downstairs to your father, assured Bucky would be there in no time as well.

You found your father dragging a body from the front end of the shop towards the basement access leaving a trail of blood. Rolling your eyes you lifted the body up with ease then proceeded to toss it down the basement stairs.

He stared you down, keeping eye contact you raised an eyebrow challenging the old man to say a word. Before the traditional verbal sparring could start between you two the sound of boots crushing on broken glass interrupts.

Your father puts his fists up at Bucky's dark shadow leaning against the frame between the front and back of the shop. Bucky studied the body language between the two of you. Your father was a short man and the only visible familiarity the scowl you both pointed his way.

"Pops, this is a friend. That's my job right?" Your father side-eyes you, one that used to scare you as a child now reminds you how much you hated him as a kid.

"We need to call the team," Bucky made his way towards the two of you.

"No!" Your father and you echo. Bucky's brow rises in suspicion, stopping mid-step.

"Listen, Barnes,” Bucky frowned at the formality. “I don't expect you to understand but I've got old contacts that can help me take care of this." You try to keep it vague knowing he'd press you about it later if he felt it was pertinent.

"Yeah Barnes," your father's chest-puffing out and you roll your eyes at him trying to assert dominance. "They're pretty good at cleaning up these messes shithead makes."

"My mess?!” Your face written with disbelief. “ Pretty sure you made this one all on your own." He really hadn't changed over the years, never any culpability. Arguing you missed the way Bucky's eyes narrowed on your father. 

"Now shithead," Bucky’s hands curled into fists at your father’s disparaging words. "I may have caused the situation but you laid the bodies down."

The animosity in the back of your father's butchery was palpable. Just like growing up. The only new piece in the aquation being Bucky’s steely glare pointed at your father. You didn’t have it in you to wonder why he held such a hard look for a man he just met. Though your father didn’t really instill much camaraderie in strangers, let alone in his own family.

"Call them and clean up the shop old man."  Walking past your father he grabbed your upper arm, looking back at him, his eyes softened in an abnormal manner. 

"Don't be dumb," his voice full of concern caught you off guard. Not knowing how to handle this side of a man you only knew as rough you pulled your arm from his grip.

"It's all I know how to be right?" Looking at Bucky you nodded your head to follow him out the front. Missing the remorseful look of your father.

Standing in front of the store with Bucky you feel nervous. When he steps in front of you keeping eye contact you lift your head up and feel your heartbeat faster but not from the adrenaline of a fight.

His eyes locked onto the blood marring your check, his right hand comes up to wipe clean. You stop breathing for the briefest of a moment at his touch.

"You're dad's a real charmer, Toots." You chuckle shaking your head causing his hand to fall away. "I'm starting to see why you killed so young, dad like that would drive anyone to violence." 

You can't help the glare you direct at him.

"He didn't drive me to murder, not at first at least." Bucky opened his mouth to clearly inquire what that meant but you cut him off.

"I appreciate your help Buck," you rest your hand on his left shoulder squeezing gently where metal meets flesh "I really do but I've gotta do the next step on my own."

"And what's that?" Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and you sighed, it was hard to refuse those beautiful blue eyes.

"If you're gonna come with I'm afraid you'll get more red on your hands." Bucky shrugged his shoulders with a flare of dramatics your hand slipping off. 

"I'd hate to miss seeing that little crooked smile you get when you enjoy a kill." He takes a step closer, your breaths mixing. "Really gets me going." His words and smirk that slides over his face pull a gasp from you. 

"James Barnes!" Your tone hushed with an indiscernible tone, "your momma know you talk to ladies like that?"

His smile only widened, skin folding at the corner of his eyes. 

"What she don’t know won't hurt 'er." He lifted his hand gesturing towards his car. "Betsy's secure in the back waiting to see what other shenanigans you can get her into tonight." You snickered at his nickname for his m249. 

#james buchanan barnes #james barnes #Bucky Barnes #james barnes x reader #bucky barns x reader #bucky x Female Reader #Bucky Barnes x female reader #eventual smut #cannon violence #bucky barnes x reader

[ofmythsandmadness]

i need a favour - three.

PART THREE - it was an extreme circumstance! what was i supposed to do, let you decapitate your brother with a butter knife?! or, dinners at the hargreeves house is always fun - but the added element of yours and diegos fake relationship? a party like never before.

WORD COUNT: 5500 or so. (oops. sorry) PREVIOUS PART(s): part one, part two.

A/N - I forgot about this, for a hot moment. Whoops. If you want to be added to the taglist, just ask and let me know. As well, if I missed you, just shoot a heads up. 

NONE OF THIS WAS NECESSARILY ‘NEW’.

She had gone to the Hargreeves before, loads of times. Whether it was to babysit Klaus, or pick one of them up, or even attend one of their infamous family dinners, because for some reason they all seemed to like her. She probably knew the place inside and out, aside from the basement area - but no one really talked about that part. She was comfortable with all of them, even Luther, no matter how many stupid fights they had all gotten into. Often leading to her playing Diego’s hype man and saying the shit he could not say (and then feeling horribly guilty later, often finding some way to make up for it, because she was far from the hardened badass she played out to be). And, honestly?

She loved them all. They felt like a second family and despite everything they had been through, she continued to feel that way.

So, the fact that she actually felt nervous to the point of nauseous, attending the monthly get-together, was really saying something.

Y/N smoothed down the front of her dress and adjusted her stance in the mirror. She folded her hands in front of her and tried to look poised, put-together, like she had her shit together even if she was just about to shit her pants thinking about it. If she was going to pull this off and help Diego out, she could not appear nervous. At all. It had to be a normal thing. A comfortable thing. A sort of thing where she would smile and not immediately vomit from her raging anxiety whenever he did so much as refer to her as his ‘girlfriend’. Even if at that moment, for some reason that totally freaked her out.

“Come on, Y/N,” she muttered to herself, twisting her fingers to the point where the joints ached. “Get yourself together. You can do this.”

But, could she do this?

She loved the Hargreeves and had known them long enough to know them; their quirks, personalities, all the little things they did to get out of a situation, and their lying faces. She could read even Allison like an open book - which meant they could all do the same to her. There was probably no way to get anything past them, unless she truly devoted herself to the task. She had to let go of her insecurities and the worry of them finding out (and that strange little knot in her stomach that only pushed when she thought about Diego, now) and just focus on her role.

It was just dinner - Diego never liked to stay long anywhere, anyways. 

She jumped at the screech of the window, followed closely by his voice calling her name. She sighed, forcing back the edge of panic and let her calmer facade come on.

“Y/N?”

“In here.”

Y/N slumped to her bed, leaning back to wait for him to stumble in. When he did, she forced a smirk. “Look at you, looking like a respectable member of society.”

He rolled his eyes, as always expected, body slumped against the frame of her door. His eyes lingered on her face, a softer look melting away the normal stress wrinkles he wore so openly. “Could say the same for you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

Diego nodded and held an arm out in offering, one she took eagerly as help for her heels. “You look good, Y/L/N.”

It was a simple compliment. And also, one she had gotten before. A thrown aside, often mutual, that did not mean much. But for some reason, her cheeks flushed pink and she had to fidget with her shoes a moment longer, eager to lose the blush before standing up again. She could barely bite out a ‘thanks’ in a normal tone - and it was that, that solidified her nerves even more.

Unfortunately, he read right through her mask. “What’s wrong? You nervous?”

“Nervous? What-no-I-” she stopped spluttering and sighed, giving up entirely. Her smile fell and was replaced with a watery grimace. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a bit,” he grinned back. His hand remained on her arm, steadying her, even if she was good and standing already. “But s’fine. I’m not excited for this, either.”

She gasped dramatically. “Whoa, the great Diego Hargreeves, nervous? My word, my, my isn’t this something! Why, if I never!”

“I didn’t say I was nervous, and I didn’t tease you for being so scared, either.”

“I’m not scared, jackass.”

“S’that why your face is redder than a tomato?”

Immediately, Y/N ducked her head and shoved him away. “Shut up,” she grumbled. “Let’s just go before I lose my will and just send your siblings a picture of our divorce papers.”

He chuckled. “Divorce papers? Didn’t realise I even popped the question.”

“Oh, you did, and I regret it every day of my life.” She dropped the sarcastic veil for a moment to mumble a ‘thank you’ for him holding the door, only to snap back right after. “It’ll be hard to split up the children, but...we’ll make it work.”

“Kids? Shit, Y/N.”

“Oh, yeah, babe.” Y/N whirled around to grin through her queasiness, rubbing her belly exaggeratedly. “Twins.”

“I knew you were hiding somethin’ from me!”

Their laughter floated down the apartment hallway and out the lobby doors, light-hearted and teasing of the other - even while the both of them struggled with their own inwardly doubts. Insecurities and nervous thoughts neither dared to admit, though they threatened to surface with every passing moment. 

Both knew the dinner was going to be more than a walk in the park. Even if they dared not breathe that worry out loud to the other.

||

“RULE NUMBER ONE.”

“Elbows off the table?”

“Y/N-”

“Chew with my mouth closed?”

“Y/N!”

“Riiight, stick to the story no matter what,” she groaned, though she wore a smile and not a grimace. Her hand twisted in his, squeezing for just a second before falling limp. “C’mon, Diego. We’ve been over this, and over this...and over this.”

Not even a hint of a smile. She sighed. “I know what I’m doing, you know what you’re doing, and we’re gonna knock this dead. Maybe even be out before eleven.”

His face still did not change, however, despite her teasing and smiles. It was composed in a stony blank stare, the sort that was a cover for any feelings underneath. She knew it well, as it was often the coverup during any sibling fights the seven got into - which happened quite a lot. She had to coax a smile out of him, sometimes a task harder than easier. But it was weird, knowing that this time, they were both walking into that delicate situation and she could not just giggle her way into a grin from him.

“It’ll be okay. I know the steps and I know your siblings. I know all the ways to get under their skins - like, if Allison gets too curious, I’ll just call up that shitty sketch show she did when she was getting started? I think I’ve memorized just about - what are you looking at?”

Diego had paused, causing Y/N to draw to a stop too, just before the door. He was staring forward, jaw slack, strangely just past her - or even at her, she really could not tell. He seemed almost frozen, until she waved her hand and repeated the question.

“Nothin,” he said, voice gruffer than before. He coughed and drew forward, hand tighter in hers. “Just - you’re always a fucking surprise.”

And before she could ask just what that meant, they were standing in front of the door, and said door was swinging open, leaving her to awkwardly smile and accept the cheery Allison Hargreeve’s invitation to come inside.

“Hey, Y/N,” she greeted first, wrapping the girl up in a tight hug before moving onto her brother. “Don’t you two look nice, wow!”

She fought an eye-roll at the comment and bit back any snide remarks, no matter how good they were. “Thanks, but I mean, c’mon - you look great. California’s really suiting you.”

Allison had been filming her latest flick, a star-studded thriller and had been away for just about seven months. And it was true, what she said; her skin glowed and the smile on her face did not look so fixed, rather genuine, actually. Things sometimes could get tense and often the woman’s face reflected the sticky state of her relationship with certain siblings, but it was clear that was not the case yet, tonight.

“Thanks, but let’s not focus on me,” she cooed back. Her hands wrapped around Y/N’s, then Diego’s, tugging with a wide grin. “You two! Holy crap -- I mean, it was something we all hoped would happen, but -- it happened!”

“Ha - yeah, that’s...it happened.”

“You two are so perfect for each other, seriously. I’m just happy my brother finally got a grip and asked you out!”

Y/N shot Diego a sharp look, pointedly raising her brows at the woman, as if to ask what to do with that sentence. Of course, he made his own point to ignore her completely. Asshole, she glared.

“Let’s head in, yeah?” She said, eager to cut Allison off before the evening could start. There was no way she was going to lose this battle before even making it to the living room. “Where’s Grace and everyone?”

“Oh, everyone but Luther’s here now, and Grace’s in the kitchen - she’s excited to see you both, though, too.” 

 Okay, so there were two things that would somewhat balance out, at least. Luther and Diego would fight, without fail, just as they always did, but Grace was always a healing voice in his life, she’d hopefully keep him a bit calm. If he could be calm; it really felt like she was holding the arm of a ticking time bomb rather than a fake boyfriend. Just to be honest.

“Remember,” he gritted to her, lips brushing near her ear, “don’t mention anything.”

“Anything? At all?”

“You know what I mean.”

She drew past him and away from his arms, puckering her lips into a fake kiss as she followed his sister in. Diego followed close behind, but they both separated - him being tugged away by a seemingly desperate looking Klaus, her eyes immediately meeting with Vanya.

“Hey, Vanya,” she greeted, moving into a gentle embrace. It only lasted a moment, however, Y/N pulling away so she could study her friend’s face a bit closer.

It was obvious the trauma of past months still stuck with her, as it would anyone; worry lines and dark circles left gentle stains on the girl’s face, aging that seemed to happen so quickly. She still looked so tired, like sleep had escaped her for aeons and she had no clue how to earn it all back. But, Y/N mused, she did look better than before. Her smile was not so forced and she seemed to carry herself a bit more confidently - no more as scared to be in the Hargreeves hellhole of a mansion.

“How are you doing?”

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, a bit stronger that time. “Yeah, I’m good. Busy, with work n’all that, but busy’s...good,” Vanya finished, weakly shrugging. “Sorry. Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense. I get it - keeps you going, keeps your mind occupied.” She sank into the sofa, comfortably close enough to Vanya while maintaining some distance. She did try her best remember the woman was still working through things and liked to keep some boundaries. “How’s all that then, with the orchestra? I can’t wait to see it, soon.”

She grinned at that, properly. “Don’t know, but hopefully...hopefully, things work out. But I - we don’t have to just talk about me.”

“Oh, no, I like to hear about this! It’s been too long, I feel like I’m missing out on your life.”

“I know but I mean, c’mon.” Her hand reached out to pat her knee, a gentle touch so rare for her. “I think - I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say here. Maybe congratulations?”

Y/N smiled gently. Her eyes flitted over to Diego, watching him talk for a brief second before turning her attention back to Vanya. “Uh, thanks...yeah, it’s definitely - it’s big. I don’t think even we were expecting it. But here we are.” Inwardly, she winced at her fumbling words. And the award for best actress goes to...

“How did you two...happen?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, shrugging back her nerves and fought for frozen composure. Her hands shook ever so slightly in her lap. “Oh, you know. It’s honestly not that great of a story, sort of blase.”

“Was he the one to ask you out?” There was an uncharacteristic sparkle in the woman’s eyes as she leant a bit closer, “I would never think he’d have the guts to actually do it.”

Y/N forced a laugh. “Well, I mean - somewhat, yeah. It was more of a mutual thing?”

Vanya frowned, raising a brow in question.

“He was just...over, it was late, and while I was cleaning up his wounds for the umpteenth time. We just got to talking about it somehow.” She looked back down to her lap. “We, uh, both decided to just throw logic out the window and give it a try, considering that everyone already thought we were together anyways. And, uh, here we are. Ha. Right?”

She probably had to work on that delivery, but Vanya at least took it all without a single question. Her smile grew and in a rare moment of affection, her arms clasped around Y/N tight. “I’m so happy for you,” she mumbled, drawing back almost as quickly as she moved in. “You two seem right together. Sorta always have.”

“Yeah...yeah, he’s great. Once you get past his grumpy exterior, he’s really quite the sweetheart.” Their eyes caught across the room, and without meaning to, Y/N smiled. Her head ducked away before she could lose her train of thought, leaving her to completely miss his shy grin back. “It just feels natural, y’know?”

Vanya nodded sagely. “I know what you mean. We all thought you two would have gotten together - everyone’s been saying it for years, but I don’t know if any of us thought it would actually happen.”

“Honestly? I didn’t think it’d happen either. But I’m...glad it did.”

“Good. M’glad you two have each other. You’ve always made him so happy, Y/N.”

She wanted to call Vanya out on that statement, ask just what that meant - but could she, really? Or was she supposed to take all the mysterious statements like that in hand and smile like she knew exactly what they meant? It was not like she could easily bring it up to Diego himself, without both of them feeling incredibly awkward. She guessed it was just supposed to chalk up to the same feelings the siblings had for Diego and her in general, the desire to get them together from the very start.

She just smiled the remark off. “It’s all still new, we’re just seein’ where this goes.”

“Right, of course.”

“Hey, darling,” a voice said from behind her. Y/N fought back the urge to snap at the pet name - which okay, was slightly better than the others, but she was not going to tell him that - and simply turned to look his way. He was smiling and holding a hand out to her, clearly waiting for her to take it. “Can you come help me in the kitchen?”

She smiled softly at Diego and rose. Her gaze shot back to Vanya, twisting to look more apologetic then happy. “I’m sorry to leave mid-con-”

“-it’s okay, no worries,” she said, waving a hand as though to pass the issue straight up. She took note that the woman never looked directly at Diego, just slightly past him - though she did smile his direction. “Congrats, you two.”

Diego merely nodded, making a sort of grunt noise in acknowledgement before gently taking Y/N’s hand and gesturing the way out. His hand moved to the small of her back, leading her forward into the kitchen where the ever-familiar blonde figure worked. Before she could ask why they had left the siblings (or why he had to slip a pet name in there again), Grace was turning around and her smile had to snap right back on.

“Mom, hi.”

Y/N remained back as Diego greeted his mother, watching as the two embrace. She could not help but soften her smile at the sight; despite her own anxiety, there was a sort of peace, existing between the two that made everything around her a little easier to deal with. He adored his mother, and had done everything he could for her. His love it was obvious even in the littlest of details. How he hugged her, smiled, even looked her way. She had seen him with such an expression before, she knew that, but could not place the place or person - just that it was rare to see him so at ease.

“It’s so nice to see you, Diego,” Grace cooed, resting a gentle hand on her ‘son’s’ cheek. She turned away from the man to smile at Y/N. “And Y/N! You look so beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks, Grace. As do you.”

The being mechanically nodded, just enough hesitation between each movement to show the still robotic features of the human-appearing woman. “Thank you, dear.”

“Uh, mom - I wanted to bring Y/N to you, for a reason.” Diego pulled away from his mother’s side to stand close to her once more, hand at her spine and nervous smile tugging at his lips. “I w-wanted to introduce her to you properly, now that we’re together.”

The next moments flash by so fast, she could not even say if they happened or if it was all just in her head. She could only remember his bashful smile and her red-lipped grin pressing into her temple, a warm voice wishing some sort of happiness and - well, truthfully, she had tuned out the second he had touched her lower back again. The moment he spoke, something had changed, and it no longer felt like a dangerous game played in jest.

She knew it was nothing, had to be so, but the way he said those two words. The smile that graced his lips - it did not feel the same as any other time they had mentioned their relationship. It felt real. Like she was a normal human being who was actually meeting a boyfriend’s mother for the first time, as though she was supposed to really feel nervous and shy but giddy to reach that milestone in their journey. Like it fucking meant something.

And that? That, was absolutely terrifying.

||

THE REST OF THE NIGHT WENT BY IN A BLUR. She could hardly focus on a thing, chewing mechanically through food she did not taste and smiling when it was necessary in conversations she did not hear. Dinner at least was pretty simple and she could get away with this easily, though. Everyone had something to say and every topic drummed up at least twenty minutes of arguing - so much so that their relationship was barely mentioned. Sure, they got a couple sly looks and a few comments from Klaus - but the rest was a breeze.

Aside from her own troubling thoughts.

She turned her gaze upwards, meeting those of Vanya’s across the table. The woman was frowning, and mouthed ‘are you okay?’, with raised brows. All she could do was smile and nod ever so slightly in an attempt to cover her distraught. She did not seem to believe her, but there was nothing she could do about that.

Her eyes turned back to the rest of the siblings, sensing a lull in the conversation, and finally spoke up. “How’s Five, these days? Hasn’t he missed what, like four of these dinners?”

“Three,” Klaus shot out, absent-mindedly swirling the mocktail in his glass with a dismal look. “And really, I couldn’t say. He says we’re too dense to understand his work.”

“He’s trying to hone his abilities, figure out how far he can stretch them. I think right now, he’s working on something in the 60s, but that’s just a guess.”

Diego huffed. “He always had to be the overachiever.”

Across the table, Luther scoffed and set down his fork. “He’s using his powers for the greater good, at least that’s something.”

“What’s that?”

She could practically hear the eyes rolling. Everyone knew what was to come, because as far as she knew, it happened almost every time. Some stupid remark that either Luther or Diego made, that made the either overreact - two big egos clashing with one another constantly. They had done their best to make up, but it never was perfect.

“What are you doin’, huh big guy?” He had stood up at that point, clutching his butter knife like it could be a real weapon - though anything was, with Diego. “What good have you been cookin’ up?”

“We all do our part.”

“Don’t bullshit me here with vague...bullshit!”

The comeback was admittedly weak, but it was still enough to get the brother riled. Luther stood up, flames for eyes, and smashed his fist against the table. No one even flinched. “At least I’m doing something - you’re a criminal, Diego.”

“Ex,” he gritted back. She could practically see the anger building inside him, and yet he managed to keep a thin level of calm, fueling his snarky tone with the rage. “That’s in the past, unlike everything you build your life on now. How long has it been since ‘dad sent you to the moon’. Huh?”

Y/N rested a hand on his, but it was brushed off quickly. So was her hiss to ‘stop’, unfortunately. She sank back perturbed.

“I’m doing important work, unlike you!”

“Unlike me - I save lives, Luther. Every single goddamn night. Putting what Dad did to us to good use. You-you sit on your ape ass and pine after Allison-”

“-dude, that argument is so old,” butted in Allison herself. “Please pick a new one.” She pounded against Y/N’s extended fist with a grim smile, accenting the point. “Also, you’re both embarrassing yourselves.”

She nodded, once more pulling at his arm - that time more successfully. “Please just sit down...baby.” It felt weird to add that on, but also odd not to. Like she needed that accent for a truly strong statement.

What mattered, though, was that it worked. His gaze turned to her with wide eyes as though surprised at her words - probably because ‘baby’ had never left her lips earnestly before. He sank back down and loosened his grip on the knife as requested, though the grimace did not budge.

Y/N smiled softly and moved to talk, but was cut off quickly by Luther, who was still teeming. “So just because of her, you want to be civilized?”

“Luther-”

“-be grateful, Spaceboy.” A wry grin tickled his lips, though he was anything but jovial. “I could still run this knife straight through your thick skull if you say one more thing.”

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You should be.”

“And why’s that?” Luther pushed, almost as though he was eager to press all of Diego’s buttons. Like he wanted a show. “Why should I be scared of you, number two?”

“Don’t act like you’re above us all now,” he gritted back, glaring so hard she feared Luther might turn straight to stone. “I could still gut you like a fish, if I wanted.”

“And would your girlfriend want that?”

Y/N watched as his grip tightened on the knife, so tight his fingers were paling by the second. 

“Don’t fucking talk about her.”

She could almost read his mind; sense his next move. And whatever it was, it was not going to end in a good time. Fights with them only escalated until one of them were forced to step down - and it was never through just words. The two were too careless and competitive to just let the other claim victory. Luther got too riled to quickly, and Diego never knew when to stop. Maybe just the worst combinations of personalities put into one room, again and again.

But at that time, she refused to have the night ruined, or to go home upset. That time, was going to be different, and the Hargreeves family dinner could maybe have at least one smile leaving the table. She was not there for nothing.

“Diego, just step down.”

“I-”

-before he could finish his thought, or before anyone could comprehend what was going on, Y/N was moving forward. She tugged his face to her and without a grain of thought, pressed her lips to his. It was rough and she almost winced when their faces collided, but still she continued, doing her best to sell the illusion against a frozen Diego. Her hand slid to cup his cheek, subtly covering their mouths just enough to pull back. With eyes shut tight and lips barely apart from his, she spoke, “shut the fuck up, or I’m walking right now”, before closing the distance once more.

It was weird. In a lot of ways. She had not really thought hard about their first actual kiss, but had not imagined it in front of all his siblings at the dinner table as they all shouted and hollered at the sight. She also had not imagined - well, truly, Y/N could not have expected any part of the outcome. The immediate thought to just kiss him, then him frozen in complete shock, before melting in to her touch, presumably to sell the act. She had to admit, he was far from a bad kisser, lips moving surprisingly-

“-are we ready for dessert?”

When had Grace even left? Y/N had not seen her move from her chair, though she supposed in the chaos, that was not too shocking. The second her voice floated through the air, however, she pulled away from Diego and sank back into her seat with new energy. Cheeks hot and lips just the slightest bit swollen, she ducked her head, not eager to see the faces of those around her.

Especially not his.

“I don’t know about you guys,” Klaus said, eager to fuel her shame further, “but I definitely could eat. How about you, Diego, are you still hungry, or are you-” he cut himself off with a loud yelp.

She did not look up, but no one could mistake the whizzing of the butter knife and Klaus’ shout of surprise, narrowly avoiding the serrated edge going straight into his jugular. In normal circumstances, she would laugh her ass off at the sight, probably berate Diego even through her giggles - but all she could do was bite back the urge to run very far away, away from the disaster situation just created around her. BY her.

Y/N sighed and clutched her fingers a little bit tighter. So much for quick and easy.

||

“WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?”

“What the hell was what?”

“Why did you kiss me?”

Y/N stormed right past him, eager to find her way out of that house’s vicinity. However, just as she thought she was free, he caught her arm and pulled her back.

“Let me leave,” she mumbled, freeing herself and resuming her walk. Her frown only grew as she heard him follow. “Okay? We did dinner, great, bye now.”

“You kissed me.”

“I panicked!”

He chuckled grimly behind her. “You panicked - Y/N, that was a full on makeout in front of my entire family!”

“Well...Five wasn’t there. And Ben’s not fully here, does he count?”

“Not the point!”

She rolled her eyes and walked faster - though it was pointless, he always kept up. Screw him and his super human self. “I did what I had to do before one of you went too far. I’m sorry, I just - I panicked, and you weren’t listening to me!”

“I was.”

“You were not! An’ you were about to cut Luther’s head in two right then and there. I thought that in case of emergency - I had to do something, before dinner turned into a bloodbath.”

She had finally stopped then, clutching her thin jacket around her body as she shivered. He stood in front of her, fists in his pockets with a strange look in his eyes - unreadable, just as before.

“Sure,” he finally said, slowly. “I just didn’t think that was when we were going to...you know.”

Y/N shrugged. “It was bound to happen eventually. We both knew that.” 

“At our first couples outing?”

“Again, might I mention the decapitation act nearly committed?”

He half grinned at that, though his eyes remained stormy. There was something up, not necessarily with the kiss - more than that, though she could not figure out what. “Not a great excuse.”

“Saving you from prison time isn’t a great excuse?”

“No, I think...you were just that eager to kiss me.”

“Sure, if you mean so we could both walk out of there alive, yeah. I was down to kiss you - for the sake of that, only.”

“You were eager to have the chance, don’t kid yourself.”

She rolled her eyes and took a step back, distancing herself even more. Suddenly, even in the late autumn chill she felt hot, flashes of heat running up and down her body like her embarrassment decided to throw a rave without permission. 

“I’m sorry,” she finally said, toing the ground with her boot. “I didn’t want to make out with you in front of your family.”

Diego shrugged, a slyer smile building on his lips. “M’sure they enjoyed the show.”

“Gross.”

“I mean, you really went for it-”

“-stop, stop,” she begged, head in her hands. She could hear his laughter, feel it floating around her, but at least she could eliminate the sight of his smirk from the torture. “I get it. Okay? Can we forget about and just get outta here?”

“I don’t think anybody’s gonna be forgetting that anytime soon.” He mumbled something after that, but it was too low for her to catch. Diego stepped close to her, grabbing her arms so as to tug them away from her face, and pulled her forward. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

||

SHE COULD NOT SLEEP. Try as she did, Y/N’s eyes would just not shut; sleep had escaped her, this time all because of herself. Her brain would not turn off and the thoughts that she had ignored the day before were haunting her awake during the night.

She could not forget the kiss. It was stupid and meaningless and yet like a broken record player, it just kept going and going, over and over in her mind until she could knew it too well. Just as it would leave her mind, she would shut her eyes and it would be back - his lips on hers, his stubble pressed into her hand, jaw clenched, his own fingers pressed ever so lightly against her waist -

-Y/N sprung up and stormed out of her bedroom. Aimlessly she walked, pacing her apartment in nary but sleep shorts and one of his own black sweaters, left behind on one of his wounded nights. It was driving her mad. Really, truly, crazy. Just one kiss and she was plain-out insane. Amazing.

She could blame it on the moment, the rush of it all - or even the nerves that had been building from the very start of the evening. She was stressed and it all happened so fast and all she had wanted was for him to shut up before he got hurt...and maybe that was why she was so invested in the embrace. A great deal had been poured into the kiss, and her brain confused that with actual romantic feelings for the guy.

Y/N scoffed and pulled the shirt tighter around her shivering body. She was playing herself, and there was not even a way out. She could not turn her brain off, and definitely there was no way she would tell Diego anything. To admit she was still fixated on a heat-of-the-moment solution - not even a kiss, merely a solution - would be a huge mistake and one she refused to fall for. Besides, she grumbled, what was he to do? He had probably forgotten all about it at that point.

This was all so very, very stupid. And even worse? Very, very, very confusing, emotionally.

She should never have agreed to this fake relationship in the first place.

TAGLIST: @asexualmarauder​ @thatshellfiredean​ @the-bird-suit​  @rangotangomango​ @fandomsandmore394​ @thatkidofwarandpeace​ @antoouu​

#i need a favour series #diego hargreeves x reader #friends to lovers #fake dating #diego hargreeves oneshot #diego hargreeves imagine #tua x reader #the umbrella academy

[bee-kathony]

Kneading Love | Ch. 5 “Undone”

a/n: thank you so much for reading! I think there will just be one or two more chapters! thank you as always for the moodboard @julesbeauchamp

Chapter One |  Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four 

April 28th, 1946

Claire’s flower shop was opening in three days. But there was still one thing left that needed to be done, and frankly, should have been done a long time ago — painting the exterior.

At the moment, the outside of the small shop was a dingy brown, which wasn’t very welcoming to anyone that wanted to come and buy flowers or herbs. So Claire had bought a very pale light blue that would hopefully entice people to stop by.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too hot — but it was Scotland so it was really never too hot. Claire was wearing an old green cotton dress with buttons all down the front. Her helper once again, Jamie, had come dressed in old looking trousers and a plain white button down.

“You do realize that shirt will not be white when you leave,” Claire smirked, pointing her paint brush at him.

“Well, it willna wi’ ye behind the brush,” Jamie laughed, dodging her brush. Claire was thankful that Jamie had come back to help her with this task considering he was tall enough to reach all the spots that Claire couldn’t. She was working on the lower half of the wall, while Jamie focused on the top.

“When we’re all finished here, I’ll let you pick out some flowers to take home to your mother,” Claire said, squatting to paint near the front door. “I think she’d like some of the roses. I saw the roses at your house.”

“Aye, she loves them,” Jamie smiled fondly. “She planted them herself when they first moved in to the place. You can always find her tending to her roses on a sunny day.”

“I’ve been thinking about asking her to help me with the shop,” Claire said and looked at Jamie to gage his reaction. His face was always unreadable to Claire, whereas she was an open book whether she liked it or not.

Jamie stood on the tips of his toes to reach a difficult spot. “I think ye should, Sassenach! It would give her somethin’ to do. No’ that she doesna have enough to do wi’ the farm, but she enjoys yer company.”

“And I enjoy hers,” Claire smiled up at him and he smiled back. “That’s settled then. When she comes to the opening on Wednesday, I’ll ask her.”

“Wednesday ye said?” Jamie asked.

“Yes, the first of May,” Claire said and then moved to the other side of the door. “You know that old saying, “April showers bring May flowers”. I thought it was appropriate to open it on the first of May.”

“Aye,” Jamie said and Claire thought he sounded a bit funny. “We’ll be there,” he grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They continued to paint until they had only one part left — a small section on the left side of the building. Claire squatted down again, dipping her brush into the paint as Jamie reached above her. A moment later, Claire felt something drop into her hair. When she reached up and pulled her hand back, it was pale blue paint.

“Oh Christ,” Jamie said immediately. “Oh God, Claire, I’m so sorry! I didna mean to get any in yer hair. Ah Dhia!”

Claire wanted to be upset, she wanted to be furious that she now had paint in her hair that would most likely be very difficult to get out, but she started to laugh. Apparently her silent laughter looked like she was crying and Jamie bent down to wrap his arms around her gently.

“Sassenach, I’m so sorry. I canna believe what I’ve done,” he said, sounding worried. “Will ye forgive me?”

Claire laughed audibly this time, and looked up at Jamie with tears in her eyes. “Forgive you? Oh Jamie,” she laughed. “It’s perfectly all right! It’s just hair after all. It’s actually quite funny.”

“What?” Jamie sat back on his butt. “Tis really okay then?”

“Well, it’s not okay,” Claire said, motioning to her hair. “But it’s fine, Jamie. Don’t worry yourself over this. Because I’m going to have you help me wash it out!”

“Aye,” Jamie laughed now, taking another look at his handy work. “I suppose we really should have thought over me painting over ye, mo nighean donn.”

“What does that mean?” Claire asked.

“Oh,” Jamie’s cheeks turned red. “It, um, means my brown haired lass.”

Now it was Claire’s turn to blush a crimson red. “I always thought brown a rather dull color.”

“Nah,” one side of Jamie’s mouth lifted up into a small smirk. “It’s like the water in a burn. The way it ruffles down the rocks,” he lifted his hand to touch a stray curl near her face. “The dark spots wi’ wee bits of auburn. Tis beautiful, Sassenach.”

“Well, we better keep it beautiful by washing out this paint,” Claire smiled.

Jamie stood to his feet and held out his hand for Claire. They still had one small spot of paint to finish, but Claire’s paint covered hair was a more pressing matter. Claire led him into the shop and up the stairs. This would be the first time that Jamie would see her room.

It wasn’t much. Just a small room above the shop, complete with a stove, sink, bed in the corner and a bathroom fit with a clawfoot tub.

“I’ll just lean my head over the water, and if you can use the shampoo to help get the paint out?” Claire held out a bottle of homemade shampoo.

“Aye, of course,” he took it as Claire knelt down and turned on the warm water. “Let’s just hope I dinna mess it up more than I already have.”

Once the water was warm, but not too hot, Claire placed her full head under the rushing water. Realistically, she would have taken off her dress before doing this, but with Jamie here with her, she thought it best to keep it on for the moment. Seeing that her hair was wet, Jamie poured a nice dollop of shampoo into his hands and reached down to Claire’s head.

His hands were large, and covered her skull as he massaged the shampoo into her hair. Despite the slight crick that she was getting in her neck, it felt heavenly — it always did feel nice to have someone else wash your hair.

“Tell me if I’m bein’ too rough,” Jamie said and Claire nodded. “The paint is bein’ a bit stubborn.”

Jamie continued to work the shampoo into her hair, rubbing out the paint and washing it slide down the drain. Water trickled down Claire’s neck making her shiver and Jamie pulled his hands back.

“Ye okay?”

“Yes,” she said softly. In all reality, she was more than okay.

Finally, the last of the paint came out of Claire’s hair and she told Jamie where to find the towels in the cupboard. He brought one back and Claire wrapped her hair into it, twisting it so it rested tall on her head.

“Well, thank you,” she smiled. “I bet you didn’t think you’d be washing my hair when you stopped by today.”

“No,” he chuckled, rubbing his neck with his hand. “I canna say I did.”

“You know,” Claire said shyly. “If you wanted to kiss me again, you don’t need an invitation.”

One of Jamie’s brows arched in surprise before he grinned and leaned down to kiss her. His large warm hand that had just been in her hair touched the back of her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

“Are ye cold, Sassenach?”

“No,” she shook her head. “Not cold at all.”

There were no words that needed to be spoken for what they both wanted. As they looked into each other’s eyes, Jamie’s hand touched the towel on top of Claire’s head and untwisted it, letting it fall to the ground. Then his hands went to the first button on her dress.

“Maybe we should step out of the bathroom?” Claire suggested.

“Aye,” Jamie laughed with pink cheeks. He backed up slowly, not wanting to take his eyes off of Claire. They came to stand in front of the bed, and Claire stood on the tips of her toes to kiss him.

“Are ye sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in all my life, Jamie,” Claire whispered against his lips. His large hands returned to the buttons on her dress, unfastening each one. Now, Claire wished she had worn something that didn’t take so damn long to take off.

“That’s a lot of buttons,” he joked as he bent down to reach the bottom ones. He stayed on his knees as the last one came undone. He slowly ran one hand up the back of her leg, feeling the smoothness of her skin.

Claire’s breath caught in her throat. She shook off her dress and let it flutter to the ground around them. Jamie looked up at her, his mouth partially open. She was wearing a bra and panty set she had bought in Paris — a light cream silk.

“Christ,” Jamie muttered and returned to his full height. “Yer the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Claire.”

“Thank you,” Claire blushed. “But I do feel slightly under dressed.”

He glanced down at himself, realizing that he was still fully clothed. Not bothering with all the buttons on his shirt, he yanked it over his head once the first few were undone. That’s when Claire gasped.

“Oh, Jamie,” she said softly as she looked at him.

“I meant to tell ye,” he said, looking down at his left arm. It was burned. “This is why I couldn’t fight in the war.”

“What happened?” Claire reached out and carefully touched his arm, feeling the bumpy and healed over scars.

“I was in the bakery alone one day,” Jamie said, his eyes shut as he remembered. “I was still new to everything. Our oven had been acting up and I had noticed a few sparks earlier in the day, but I thought nothing of it.”

Claire ran her finger tips lightly over his skin, seeing gooseflesh rise in their wake.

“When the fire started, there was nothing I could do,” he continued. “It caught on my shirt and I was in so much pain that I just fell to the floor. That’s when my Da ran in — he heard my screamin’. They managed to put out the flames, but it was too late for my arm.” He turned now, showing her his back. “It burned the top half of my arm as well as a bit of my back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Claire said softly, feeling her chest tighten at seeing him this way. “I can’t even imagine what that must have felt like.”

“Twas the worst pain I’ve ever felt,” Jamie said and turned to face her once again. “But yer touch, Sassenach…” he cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb against her lip. “It makes the pain disappear.”

Their lips sealed, gentle and slow at first, but quickly became hungry. Jamie pulled his trousers off, tossing them somewhere in the room and he wrapped both his arms around Claire. She fit perfectly against him, and they both moaned whenever she flexed her hips and felt how hard he was.

“I need you,” Claire said and took a step back, all while unfastening her bra and letting it fall to the ground. She took a seat on the edge of the bed and Jamie fell to his knees before her to worship her, love her, touch her.

His hands slid up along her bare thighs, touching the silk of her panties before moving up her stomach. Claire could hardly breathe as she watched him, his eyes exploring her body with a look between lust and love. Her legs were on either side of his body, and he lowered his lips against her neck, softly sucking.

“Jesus,” Claire muttered under her breath. For almost two months now, Claire had been wondering what it would feel like if he touched her with his tongue. Now that she knew, she never wanted him to stop. He kissed his way down to her collarbones, flicking his tongue out as if he was saying a prayer.

When he reached her breasts, he pushed his hands underneath them, weighing them as he caught his breath.

“Ye have no idea how beautiful ye are, Sassenach,” Jamie said.

“I do believe you said that already,” Claire laughed, sliding her right hand into his curls.

“I’ll keep sayin’ it until the day I die,” he smirked and then bent his head back down and placed a gentle kiss to her left breast. Her nipples became hard and he closed his mouth over one of them, his tongue flicking the bud. For such a large man, he was quite a gentle lover.

The scruff of his beard made a tingling sensation shoot all over her body and Claire began to squeeze her thighs around him. Jamie pushed her breast further into his mouth, beginning to suck harder. Moans left Claire’s lips as he did the same to the other one. She would have happily sat here for hours with Jamie between her legs and his mouth at her breasts, but her belly was tight and she needed to feel him.

“Take these off,” Claire tugged at his boxers and Jamie reluctantly pulled off of her chest, leaving her nipples red and swollen.

As Jamie removed his boxers, Claire moved backwards on the bed, taking her panties off as well. She reached beside the bed and grabbed a condom, laughing to herself that it was finally coming to use.

Her eyes trailed greedily down Jamie’s long body as he climbed onto the bed. She couldn’t help the wetness that was between her legs whenever she saw his cock for the first time. It was hard, pressed against his stomach, and with one long throbbing vein.

Jamie moved between her legs, positioning his forearms on either side of her chest. Claire reached between their bodies and rolled the condom on, watching as Jamie’s eyelashes fluttered at her touch.

“Yer goin’ to kill me, a nighean,” Jamie said softly. He cupped her cheek, and Claire turned her head slightly to capture his thumb in her mouth, sucking lightly. “Christ,” he mumbled.

Their bodies were flush, warm and Claire flexed her hips, communicating with her body was she so desperately needed. Jamie leaned up and he took himself in hand to guide into her slick folds.

“Oh God!”

“Mmmph.”

Claire hooked one arm around his neck, letting her body adjust to him inside of her. Once he was pressed fully against her, he pulled back until just the tip was inside of her before pushing forward. His belly pressed down against hers and soon he began to roll his hips in a steady rhythm.

Feeling like something would explode inside of her at any minute, Claire moved her hands along his back, feeling the light sweat that covered him. Her hand lingered on his hurt arm, squeezing lightly as he hit a deep spot inside of her.

“Jamie,” she whispered, searching for his lips. Their moans died in each other’s mouths as he rolled his hips again and again. With a final thrust, Claire came absolutely undone underneath him, her body twitching and as her walls clenched around him, Jamie followed her into the abyss.

They lay there for quite some time. Jamie’s head on Claire’s chest as their hearts returned to a normal rhythm. Claire’s hand found his curls, running her fingers slowly through them. His breath was hot against her skin. A smile formed on her lips as she glanced down at the state of them — one of Jamie’s legs covering her as he lay on his side, his arm wrapped around her waist.

“This is no’ what I thought would happen at all,” Jamie finally said a few moments later.

“Oh, you didn’t think you would end up naked in my bed?” She chuckled, tugging on his hair. “Because that’s exactly what I planned on.”

“I don’t put it past ye,” Jamie smirked and kissed her neck before moving to rest his head on his hand. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here wi’ ye in my arms.”

Claire felt like anything she would say wouldn’t be enough, so she just sealed their lips together and rolled into his side.

“I fear your mother and sister will know exactly what we’ve been up to once they see us again on Wednesday,” Claire buried her face into his chest.

“Oh aye,” he laughed. “I have no doubt they’ll give me a hard time for it. There’s nothin’ that those two women canna figure out.”

Claire felt positively wonderful, and it didn’t matter to her that she and Jamie weren’t married or that they hadn’t waited until their wedding night. There was nothing in the world that could have stopped them — not a priest, a disgruntled mother or a natural disaster. There were forces working together to bring Jamie and Claire together, that she was sure of.

“Speaking of Wednesday,” Jamie said, letting his fingers trail slowly down Claire’s arm. “Tis my birthday.”

“What?” Claire abruptly sat up and looked down at him. “Your birthday? Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

He shrugged, “I usually dinna go all out for my birthday, and I’d rather spend it wi’ ye and seein’ yer shop open.”

“I can change it to Thursday,” Claire said. “It’s really not a problem. I don’t want to take up the day!”

“Nah,” Jamie brushed his finger over her nose. “Seein’ ye happy is all I need on my birthday. The first of May is the perfect day and ye willna change it, I won’t let ye.”

Feeling like it was pointless to argue with a stubborn scot, Claire fell back against him. She placed a kiss to his neck and Jamie squirmed.

“That tickles, Sassenach,” he laughed.

Claire did it again, flicking her tongue against his neck. He kept wiggling underneath her and Claire moved until she was sitting on top of him and kept kissing his neck just under his ear. Jamie’s hands gripped her sides, trying to pry her off of him as he laughed. Quite unintentionally, his cock brushed against her, making them both stop.

Silently, they stared at each other. Claire placed one hand on his chest and with her other, she intertwined their fingers. They were both still aroused and so Jamie pushed his hips upwards and slid inside of her. Claire’s hips rolled as she adjusted the angle. Jamie sat up, his hands sliding down to grip her lower back.

Both of Claire’s legs wrapped around him as they slowly and tenderly pulled each other apart. There in Jamie’s arms, Claire gave her heart to him, feeling that there was no safer place in the world for it to be stored.

#kneading love #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #outlander #chapter five #undone

[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Intern (CliffxReader)

Requested by @perawuat​

Let me know if you want me to add you on the OUATIH taglist! :)

"Y/n? You comin' or what?" Your roommates stopped and looked to you for an answer.

You shook your head with a sigh, "Not tonight, sorry guys."

One of your friends, Ziggy, raised her eyebrow, "Oh come on, Y/n. Live a little!"

There was a party on campus. One of the many....many parties you'd bailed out on that month alone.

They just weren't your scene.

You were a bit old fashioned. More of an intellectual.  You liked cafes, ballets, and developing photos. Your friends loved clubs, protests, and being in those photos. Most of your friends were hippies, and whether you liked to admit it or not, they kept you balanced up with the times.

Your other roommate, Rowan, nodded, and nudged you a little with his elbow, "Come on! It's gonna be far out, man!"

Your other friend, Odie, adjusted their collar, "I heard there's gonna be some cats from Berkeley, baby!"

You sighed.... Berkeley kids were known to be on another level of hippy-ness.

Ziggy wrapped her hands around your forearm and bounded up and down with pleading, wide eyes, "USC kids are coming through, come on!"

You studied at UCLA, USC also happened to be a bit of a party school, and was also a rival school. It was  certain there'd be a fight or two added to the expected chaos.

"There's gonna be booze, dudes, and no narcs! C'mon, it'll be groovy, baby!" Odie held their hands in the air, vibing and dancing with the wind, "Live a little, Y/n!"

You shook your head, your arms crossed over your books across your chest "Maybe next time, guys." Rowan groaned, "Aw don't be such a drag, Y/n!"

You smiled a little, "You guys go ahead. Catch you tomorrow?"

You walked to the end of the block together. They'd cross the street to get to the party, you'd keep walking down the block to get to your dorm.

There was a parking lot on the corner. It was empty save for a single trailer.

As you waited for the lights to change you all looked into the lot.

Rowan leaned in, and whispered "I heard it belongs to professor McHarris. Say his wife ditched him and how he lives in a trailer."

Odie shook their head, and rolled their eyes with a sigh, "Ugh boys. Who told you that? I heard..." They leaned into the circle, and muttered in annoyance, "It's. Just. Abandoned. Here."

Rowan frowned in disbelief, "Who'd abandon a perfectly good trailer?!"

Odie shrugged, pulling on a pair of shades as they squinted against the setting sun, "Who wouldn't?"

Ziggy, a theater major, and naturally a lover of storytelling, smirked as she leaned in. "Well...I heard some weird stuff goes on in there. Some cult leader or something crashes there late at night after he goes PSYCHO."  She waved her fist around like Norman Bates and laughed as the rest of you stepped back and shuddered in horror.

The light turned green and your friends waved goodbye.

You turned and walked down the block as they crossed the street.

You sighed as you climbed up the stairs to your apartment and opened the door. You sat down, and stacked your books and projects up, and started working. You didn’t like parties, but you liked fun and adventures. You liked doing your own thing, sometimes. But, right now you had some work to do...  You could have sworn you'd studied the whole night through.

You slammed the books shut. Your eyes were dry and tired from all the reading. You sighed and looked up at the wall. You had strung up photographs you'd developed over the weekend. Some of them were a bit questionable, a little on the avant-garde side of art. But all in all, your work was a masterpiece. The rows of strung up pictures were just a snippet of your impressive portfolio.

Consequently, you'd just gotten an internship in Hollywood on a set.

You were starting the next morning, and looking forward to it, though you were understandably nervous about it.

It was also part of the reason you didn't really want to go to the party..

True, you could have gone just for an hour or two...but acid and protest tunes weren't really up your alley. Maybe a cigarette, gin and tonic, and some Rat Pack records.

Your roommates and friends were probably talking about a protest that would happen on campus next week. But, that also wasn't your thing. You just weren't comfortable with crowds and loud noise. Mysteries.. Now that was where it was at.

At least to you.

You looked at your watch, expecting it to be 3 or 4 am... It was only midnight.

The night was still young.

And you were restless.

You stood up... For once in your life you were going to be impulsive and assertive. You were going to do something crazy.

You were going to find out who the hell really lived in the trailer.

You pulled on your denim jacket, and put on your red go-go boots, rushed out the door, and down the stairs, rushing to the parking lot before you lost your new found sense of curiosity.

You wrapped your fingers against the chain link fence, your eyes zeroing in on the lone trailer in the center of the dark lot.

You sighed, trying to force yourself to do one exciting thing with your life. "Don't be a drag. Don't be a drag, don't be a drag..."

You trudged through the darkness and hovered around the trailer. It was dark and silent. Maybe Odie was right. Maybe it really was just abandoned...

Or maybe...

Maybe Rowan was right. It was rare, but he had his moments.... Maybe that professor really was just trying to get by...

Or...horrifically but also possibly,  what if Ziggy was right?! She always had hear-say and gossip down to a t... Besides...

Serial killers weren't not a thing in big cities.... What if this cult leader rumor was real?!

You were close to the door..  You didn't even knock on the door when you heard a guttural growl and a loud bark.

You fell back in fear, and pushed back on your heels and palms.

You unexpectedly ran into something...

You turned around, feeling cold with fear, "Holy shit it's the serial killer..."

You looked up and he looked down.

He was wearing sunglasses for some reason...

You held your breath, "Definitely a serial killer."

He wore a denim jacket over a black shirt.

He reached down and pulled you up, with a seemingly, and oddly friendly smile. "She doesn't bite." He threw his cigarette onto the ground and put it out with his foot.

"Wh...who are..." He was kinda cute... A bit on the older side. And...also still probably a serial killer.

"My dog. Her name's Brandy." He shrugged matter-of-factly, as he looked through a key ring.

You sighed calming yourself down a bit, reasoning that a serial killer wouldn't be human enough to have a dog. You hoped...

He started to unlock the door as he clicked to calm his dog down. "So any particular reason why a kid like you's fuckin' around here and isn't home and asleep?" "Why wouldn't a kid like me be out?" You thought you had him. He shrugged, "Out in the street alone where there's some real creeps?"

"You're not a creep, are ya?"

He chuckled a little " No. I dont think so at least."

You smiled a little as he sat on his makeshift porch, his dog sitting by his side.

"I'm not a kid anyway. I'm twenty-two."

He chuckled a little. He remembered what it was like to be so young, "So why aren't you at a club or a party or a protest or somethin'?"

You shrugged a little "Not really my scene."

"So you're not a hippy?" He sighed a little, a bit more at ease. Even if they were for peace and all, they made Cliff Booth a little uneasy, which wasn't an easy thing to do itself.

"Not really. And you.... Youre not a m..." You bit your lip. Why would a murderer admit to being a murderer?

"A what?"

"Well... Your trailer popped up out of nowhere and there's been... rumors about you..."

Cliff chuckled a little. He wasn't quite a star in Hollywood but rumors always managed to keep him in the spotlight.

"Yeah? What kinda rumors?" He petted Brandy as she laid her head on his leg.

"The best one was you were either a professor that got divorced and lost everything. Or a culty serial killer."

He laughed, "That's crazy talk."

"Yeah...so...who are you?"

He took his glasses off and you saw his beautiful blue eyes under the moonlight. "My name's Cliff. What about you, intruder?"

"Intruder?!"

He nodded, a little amused by your response, "Pokin' around somebody's home at midnight? Makes you an intruder."

"Student parking lot. You are ...probably not a student right, Cliff?" You smirked a little.

"Touche, kid. So...intruders are strangers. You don't wanna be a stranger, right?"

You laughed, "Guess not." You shrugged, "My name's Y/n. I study photography there." You pointed to a building down two blocks, looming like a castle over the new city lights.

Cliff whistled a little, "UCLA. Nice school. You know what you're gonna do when you're through?"

You nodded, "I graduate in a few months. And I just got an internship on some set in Hollywood. I start tomorrow. I wanna work cameras for movies some day. Guess this is how I'll start."

Cliff smiled, "Sounds like a dream, kiddo. Good luck out there." Cliff knew more than anyone that Hollywood was a cut throat place.

He meant it when he wished you luck.

And something about the way he said it let you know that. "Thanks Cliff," You smiled, until you looked around the parking lot and the dark streets. A few hours from then it would be awake with cops raiding the parties and kids scrambling to get to their dorms.

"You gonna be ok, old timer?"

Cliff laughed a little, "Does get loud around here sometimes. College was never really my thing."

"No?"

He shook his head "Nah. I got drafted."

"Heavy."

"Yeah... So I move around every now and then to keep things fresh. There's an empty lot behind this theater. I've been thinkin' of movin' out there next."

You felt a little sad for him. It felt so lonesome out there at night.

You asked again "You gonna be ok, Cliff?"

He smiled a little, "I get by, kid. Don't worry. You go out there, show em whatchu got tomorrow, ok?"

You nodded, "Thanks again, mister," you smiled as you started walking away. "See you around, Cliff!"

You waved back at him and he waved back with a soft smile and a sigh, "See ya,  kid."

And...he did...

You were an intern on a set that you knew nothing about.

"Alright L/n. When the director says action you're gonna move down here with this camera. When you get to the third line you have to zoom in on Rick."

"Rick?" Your mentor of sorts nodded "Yeah. Rick fucking Dalton."

Your jaw dropped, "Rick Dalton? Like Bounty Law- Rick Dalton?!"

The cameraman nodded understanding you were star struck. You were fairly young so you'd probably grown up watching his shows. "Yeah. And. After lunch were gonna work with his stunt double over on the horses. That guy's crazy. His name's Cliff."

What were the odds...

"Cliff?"

You heard a third, familiar voice. "Yeah?"

The camernan smiled, "Speak of the devil!"

You turned around and sure enough there he was.

Cliff....

He took off his sunglasses, trying to figure out if it was really you. "Y/n?"

You smiled "Hi!"

He laughed "Well I'll be damned! This is where you're working!?"

You smiled and nodded "Yeah!"

Cliff smiled. He wanted to make sure you didn't end up like him. He knew a few names that might come in handy for you. He wanted to make sure you were alright.

Cliff didn't do that for many people...

Frankly...Well, he liked you.

And Cliff Booth didn't like many people.

He wasn't too social. A bit like you...

Somehow Rick convinced you to go to a Hollywood party with them.

Cliff had to go because Rick needed a ride, as always. And you went because you just wanted to spend some time with them.

They were quickly becoming some of your closest friends.

Cliff was becoming a little more than a friend, a little less than a fling.

But you wanted it to be so much more.

Cliff left you and Rick to get some drinks for the three of you.

Rick laughed as you told him the story of how you and Cliff met.  "A serial killer?!" He laughed and wiped away a tear, "Wait till you hear the rumors about him around Hollywood!"

You laughed a little but then Rick noticed something was wrong. You were worrying about something as you looked around at the producers, directors, and actors.

"What's goin' on sweetheart?"

"You think I'll make it?"

He lowered his cigarette and asked, "You shot the Mexican stand-off scene in this week's episode?"

You nodded, "Yeah...? Shit...did someone say something? Fuck did I blow it?!"

Rick shook his head, "Oh, no, no, no! You did great! You're all they talk about in the editing room!  You're gonna make it out here, kid."

Rick realized that couldn't be the only thing in your mind. He followed your eyes over to Cliff at the other side of the party.

Rick smiled a little as he murmured so only you could hear, "You know he really likes you?"

You smiled a little, "Ah, you’re just saying that."

Rick laughed and gestured to Cliff, "You really think he gets that cleaned up for just anybody, Y/n? You've seen him on set."

You giggled "I guess you're right."

Cliff made his way through a crowd and made his way back to you and Rick.

He smiled at you, and you smiled at him.

Something told you Rick might have been right...

You were going to make it.

And you were going to have Cliff by your side.

#ouatih #once upon a time in hollywood #cliff booth #cliff booth x reader #rick dalton

[desperationandgin]

Strawberry Wine (Part 1, Chapter 3)

Rating: General Audiences

Author: desperationandgin

Previous Chapter

Also Read On: AO3

A/N: My continued thanks (and this won’t change!) to @smashing-teacups, @missclairebelle, and @lcbeauchampoftarth for being great and invaluable betas! Moodboard thanks for this entire series goes to @filledwithlight :)

Chapter 3: He Had a Car

There it was. That old 1937 Ford, or what was left of it, anyway. To see it in such a condition (rusted out, tire-less and with a missing bed) made my heart ache so violently that I pressed a hand to my chest, pushing back to keep it in place. When I closed my eyes, I could see the ghost of him, sitting on the driver’s side with an arm slung out of the window and leaning his head out as well. He would grin at me, driving so slowly I could lean down and give him a sweet kiss.

We kissed and more in that truck. We spilled ourselves to one another in that truck. I said my goodbyes to him, sobbing, while sitting in that truck. And now here it was, this object that held such an important part of my soul, forgotten in an overgrown yard.

+++++

As Jamie and I spent time together, we were both unable to deny we were strongly attracted to one another; it was clear by the second night when I couldn’t help gravitating closer to him, until my head had rested on his shoulder while we spoke by the fire. I didn’t know about him, but I’d never been so taken with a person. My first thoughts upon waking were of whether he might be awake already (He always was; up with the sun) or if he laid in bed thinking of me. I was always eager to see him in the mornings, and at night, after he’d walked me back to my room, my last thoughts were inevitably of him. Jamie Fraser was on my mind constantly, and I was aware that our time together would not continue uninterrupted forever.

Our third time out together, he’d given me a proper tour of Lallybroch and the grounds surrounding it. A natural-born storyteller, I couldn’t help but listen, paying rapt attention to the way his hands gesticulated and his eyes danced with mischief as he regaled me with tales of spooked horses and snakes hiding in hay. I’d decided then that I could listen to him speak forever and never tire of his voice; the way it lilted was almost melodic, and I’d imagined the way it would wash over me if I ever had the chance to lay in his arms, tired but warm and buzzing with fading pleasure.

The fourth day, my only opportunity to see him had been at breakfast; for most of the late morning and afternoon, he was away with his father, driving to visit tenants. He’d offered to take me along, but I’d felt badly about neglecting Lamb in favor of spending time with Jamie. So, I’d begged off and spent most of mid-day and early evening with my uncle, poking about the library before letting him take me to places he’d been before. I couldn’t say it wasn’t interesting and educational; he took me to Prestonpans and Edinburgh before we were done with our long day of travel, and by the time I tumbled out of the car, I was ready for my head to hit the pillow. But there would be no stopping Jamie and I from spending the next day together, alone.

That day had been the day I discovered he had a 1937 Ford pickup, and I’d ended our brief meeting by telling him under no circumstances were we to do anything but go for a ride in his truck the next afternoon; a miniature road trip, all because I wanted to go driving with him.

He didn’t disappoint.

The next morning, after waking and dressing for the day, I made my way downstairs to the smell of sausage and syrup, and Jamie’s sister settling a large platter of pancakes in the middle of the table. Once we were sitting, it was all I could do to stop myself from grinning broadly at Jamie around my fork. When he returned it, my heart squeezed in my chest and I was sure my cheeks flushed.

“Would ye like to accompany me to Inverness, Sassenach?” he asked casually. “I thought I could show ye around some of the wee shops.” His gaze, from the corner of his eyes, darted toward his father and I realized this for what it was: a show.

“Of course,” I lied (what I hoped was smoothly), but made it a point to hide my face behind a cup of tea. “That’s one place Lamb and I didn’t make it to the other day, and I’d like to see it.”

“‘Tis settled then. As soon as I finish my duties, we’ll go out,” Jamie promised, and under the table, I felt his boot-clad foot nudge mine. Sharing a smile with him, I finished my pancakes, all the while keeping my foot lightly pressing to the top of his.

After Jamie excused himself I lingered at the table, forcing myself to eat at a normal pace rather than shovel food into my mouth as I listened to Lamb and Mr. Fraser discuss Culloden. I couldn’t believe they hadn’t exhausted themselves on the matter after years excavating the site. Still, I contributed politely, waiting it out for half an hour before finally excusing myself. As soon as I was out of view, I bolted for the stairs, going up quickly and changing from my casual trousers into a light blue dress with sleeves almost to my elbow. Pairing it with brown heels and a thin gold watch, I finished my look by setting my curls free and ruffling a hand through tangled strands to make them spring to life.

Outside, I paused on the front step to take a deep breath of fresh country air, admiring the blue of the sky. Already, it was a perfect day, and would only continue to be so. I made my way off to the right toward the stables, taking my time about it. Once Jamie came into view, I stopped to admire him leading horses out of their stalls, letting them free to graze all day. Not for the first time, I appreciated the hard lines of his body. He told me once that he played shinty in highschool, and it wasn’t hard to imagine him being athletic.

“Will staring at me be somethin’ ye do often, Sassenach?”

His words immediately pulled me out of my thoughts and I smiled innocently at him. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you staring at me.” It never felt invasive; when his stare settled on me, it always felt as though a warm blanket were wrapping around the very marrow of me. “Fair’s fair.”

Chuckling, he ducked his head as I finally walked toward him; once I was close enough, Jamie leaned over the fence and kissed my cheek lightly. “I suppose ye may be right. If I canna help myself, there’s no sense blamin’ ye for the same thing.”

“At least you have good sense,” I wryly mused before watching him next lead a beautiful black horse out of the stables. “What’s this one’s name?”

Jamie ran a hand over the horse’s withers. “This is Donas. Braw and fast, but mean. Throws everyone off but me.”

“I wonder what it is about you?” I asked curiously, not bothering to try reaching out to pet an ill-tempered animal.

“I dinna ken. I suppose we bonded, is all.”

Jamie shrugged it off, but I knew. It was easy to see the kind nature of him; his very presence could put a person at ease, and his eyes held sincere gentility within them.

“I think it’s incredible, that of everyone here who must’ve tried, you’re the only one he trusts.” I maintained eye contact with Jamie, watching as he let that sink in.

“Why, do ye think?”

“What?” Surely I wasn’t meant to say all the things I felt aloud.

“What do ye think the horse sensed in me and me alone?”

As he asked, he walked closer, reins still in hand. Clearing my throat, I fiddled with the clasp on my watch to buy myself time before looking back at him, dropping my hands. “I think Donas senses that you would never hurt him,” I began, letting myself get lost in the different hues of blue his eyes reflected. “I like to think perhaps he realizes you’re a safe person, someone worthy of trust.” There was more I could say, but I was stopped by the way his eyes drifted from mine to the nose of the horse.

There my hand was, idly stroking, and I paused in surprise, unsure of why I felt my face flush.

“Whatever he thinks of me, Sassenach, it seems he’s of the same mind about you as well.”

I watched as Jamie smiled in a way so beautiful it would be forever imprinted on my heart. We left the stables shortly after, and he led me by the hand to his truck. Once we were both settled in, he headed for open road. We started on the path to Inverness, then took a side street and enjoyed the fresh air and scenery. As I watched the fields go by, I couldn’t help but comment. “This might be the most beautiful place in the world, Jamie.”

When he glanced at me, I caught his eyes and we exchanged matching grins. “Aye, it is,” he answered simply, then reached for my hand.

I held onto him, watching as the breeze from the open window made his curls dance across his neck. “I do think you’re kind and wonderful, you know,” I finally murmured, body turned in my seat a bit so I could see him better.

The very tips of his ears turned pink, his thumb running a nervous course on the underside of my wrist. If he would only stop, he’d be able to feel my heart beating wildly under his thumb.

“I try to be, ye ken?” he asked quietly. “Kind, I mean. There’s too much happening in the world; I might as well aim to be better than that.” News of what was happening with Hitler in Germany was never lacking, the collective rest of the world seeming to hold its breath. “My mam always told me being kind never cost anyone anything.”

“What was she like, your mother?” I found myself asking, mostly just wanting to hear him speak as much as possible.

“Her hair was like mine,” Jamie said with a soft smile and a glance toward me. “And she was tall. Taller than you, Sassenach.” His father was a bit shorter, and so, Jamie took after his mother in every way. “She had two brothers, my Uncles Dougal and Colum, and neither of them approved of her marrying my father on account that she could marry better. Higher than a farmer, ye ken.”

“Clearly, that didn’t matter to her,” I observed.

“Och, no, she wound up sneaking away one night and meeting my father at the kirk. They were hand-fast and, well. After that, she couldna be allowed to give birth to a bastard, so…” He trailed off with a sly smirk tossed my way.

I laughed, hiding my smile behind my fingers. “That’s terribly romantic, Jamie.” I found myself wondering what it would be like to love someone so fiercely that you would defy your own flesh and blood to have them.

Turning my eyes back to the road, he continued to talk, telling me stories of his life growing up (He’d had an older brother, Willie, who’d died when Jamie was eight. Just before that, his mother had come down with a flu so terrible she’d died, and with her another baby boy, stillborn. It was all so horrible to hear, and yet the way he told the story was with the natural gift of an orator, something I idly thought each time he began telling a story.), and what he hoped to do for the farm once he officially ran things on his own.

“What about you, Sassenach?” he asked curiously. “Tell me about your family, your life growing up.”

I shifted in my seat, somewhat taken off guard by the shift in the conversation to me. “Well,” I began somewhat feebly. “You know my parents died when I was five. I don’t remember much before that.”

“I do remember ye tellin’ me,” Jamie replied tenderly, taking my hand and raising it to his lips, kissing my knuckles. Eyes on the road again, he spoke. “What’s yer happiest memory?”

He didn’t let go of my hand, the ghost of his lips still clinging to my skin (he made my belly coil so tightly I briefly shuddered), so my fingers laced through his as I swallowed and closed my eyes to think. I could feel his gaze every time he glanced from the road to me. I tried to focus on one flash of a moment and expand upon it: being at the shore. It had to have been just before Lamb became my guardian, because it was one of my clearer memories; even still, it was fuzzy.

“I remember going to the seaside with my parents. I don’t remember where, if we were somewhere in London, but I remember my father lifting me up onto his shoulders while he waded into the water.” I could still see my mother across from us in the water, smiling. I couldn’t really make out her face, but I knew it was her. Opening my eyes, I looked over at Jamie. “That, I suppose. I think I remember eating sweets in a shop that day, too.”

Jamie turned onto a road that wasn’t paved, but it was clearly well-traveled. “I’ve never been to the beach,” he reminded me. “But I canna wait to go one day wi�� ye. Make more happy memories.”

His words made my heart blossom with warmth, my features softening as I looked at him with fondness. He was so sweet-natured and kind; somehow he maintained a part of his boyhood innocence, even with all that he’d lost. “I want that too, Jamie,” I replied honestly, watching as high cliffs came into view before giving way to more meadow, rolling hills, and water below.

When we stopped, we were at Loch Lomond, and I stepped out of the car to look out at the water from where he’d parked. The body of water wasn’t very wide, but as I looked out from the hill I stood on, it seemed to stretch toward the horizon forever. I sensed Jamie beside me and turned to see him shaking out a blanket before laying it down for us to sit beneath a large Scot’s Elm tree. After one more trip to the truck, he was finally back with a basket containing our lunch, and we sat beside one another, grazing on grapes and cheese. Playfully, I broke a grape from the vine and held it to his lips, grinning when he not only obliged me by taking the fruit into his mouth, but kissed the tips of my fingers as well.

“I reckon I could spend every day just like this wi’ ye,” he murmured, gaze fixed directly on me.

“We can, you know. At least right now. We could come here every day until September.” I sounded earnest to my own ears, eager. “As long as I can spend time with you,” I amended, “I’m not sure I care where it is.”

Chuckling sweetly, Jamie reciprocated my earlier gesture by offering a piece of cheese, which I took gladly. “If I didna have to tend to my normal duties, I ken I would spend every waking moment wi’ ye, Sassenach.”

His comment made me blush, but I liked it; and when he held out his hand to me, I took it, running my fingers along his palm slowly. He did the same to my hand, and together we explored the various lines and curves in one simple appendage. His hands were strong and wide, the pads of his fingers calloused from years of labor. Lazily, his fingers climbed toward my wrist, tracing one of my blue-green veins with the tip of his index finger.

“I’ve never met someone sae bonny,” he spoke quietly.

“Surely there are Highlander girls who’ve caught your eye,” I stated dubiously.

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m no’ saying I’m chaste, so aye, and they were pretty lasses, but you, Sassenach—” He paused to let his fingers glide down my jaw before his entire hand cradled my cheek. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

I didn’t know what to say to that, and even if I did, my mouth was suddenly so dry I couldn’t swallow. Luckily, there was nothing I needed to say. I saw him lean toward me and I knew to meet him in the middle, our lips coming together in a tentative first kiss. I felt his hands come up to my hair and tangle in the curls while my own spread across his shoulders. The kiss became less tentative and more lustful as I felt him press closer and I pressed back, my lips parting beneath his.

With the first feel of his tongue against mine, I made a noise I was sure I never had before. It only encouraged him (both of us), and then I took my turn to taste and explore him. Jamie was all woodsmoke and pine, earth and salt. As I had my fill, I realized hazily that I was in his lap and couldn’t remember how I got there. My fingers found a home in his hair as we took turns fighting for dominance, tongues pausing to duel before one of us would inevitably retreat in surrender. Eventually, the need to take deep lungfuls of air caught up with us both, and my forehead pressed to his.

“Christ, Sassenach,” he uttered on an exhale. “How did ye learn to kiss that way?”

My smile was coy as I laughed contentedly. I’d traveled the world and had my fair share of kissing lessons. My eighteenth birthday was particularly illuminating in Jericho, but instead of saying all that, I let my nose glide down the length of his until my lips hovered close enough to kiss, but didn’t.

“I don’t recall mentioning my chastity, either.” I kissed him then, swallowing his responding sound of surprise. When he finally pulled back to look at me, I spoke before he could. “Are you disappointed?”

There was a moment my question hung in the air before he simply shrugged and shook his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“Ye ken, Sassenach? I dinna believe there’s a thing in the world ye could ever do to disappoint me.”

As we kissed there, under the tree and overlooking the Loch, I hoped that he was right.

Next Chapter

#outlander fic #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire fraser #outlander #strawberry wine #my fic

[megalony]

That’s my girl

A Roger Taylor imagine requested by the lovely @ironicallyrog I hope this is what you wanted.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac

Roger Taylor masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Queen was such a unique band that they could have every audience member going from raging wildly to sobbing with emotion in less than one second. They never failed to send (Y/n)'s heart that little bit faster and sent a good kind of shaking to her bones. They always managed to make her feel alive. It didn't matter what was going on in her life or what was bringing her down, with Queen playing in the background life didn't seem so bad anymore.

Tonight was no different.

The one beer she had already drunk added to the buzz Queen was giving to her, and the full one set in the glass in front of her was surely going to add to that. Queen was that band that (Y/n) always followed around, mainly because her boyfriend was the drummer of said band. But they gave one of those kinds of performances that made you cry when it was over because it felt like it had only just begun. Where you wanted to stand around forever, until the sun couldn't shine again and just let the night last into eternity.

No matter how many times (Y/n) admired her boyfriend sat behind his drums on the stage, she could never keep her gaze there. The way Freddie danced around the stage and created new styles and moves always managed to catch (Y/n)'s attention. And his melodic voice had made her brain automatically trained to pay attention to every lyric he sang and every change in note of his voice. Roger's melodic, high pitched voice made shivers run down her spine, right now his new high notes were capturing (Y/n)'s attention the most.

When Roger caught (Y/n) glancing or staring at him, he would wink and his smile would widen to show his teeth. When Freddie caught (Y/n)'s attention he would purse his lips and lower his gaze in a way that sent her a loving yet cheeky gaze of a best friend.

Clashing his drumstick to the cymbal on his left, Roger flipped the stick between his index and middle finger, his eyes falling to the girl sitting at the bar. He couldn't work out what it was, but there seemed to be something different tonight. His tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth and against his front teeth as he clattered the cymbal and then the snare drum in repeated, quick motions.

The drums sounded throughout the rather large but rowdy pub they were playing, each member of the band feeling they were meant for more than this place. This was the best gig they could get so far, the pub frequently called to ask them to play and it was a better venue than most, but all of them wanted something bigger and better than this. They were meant to be higher up there, not down here where their music wasn't bouncing off the walls enough. Where they had little space to flaunt around and show their talent that never ceased to amaze everyone and enrapture the attention of even the most uninterested drunk.

A terribly long sigh escaped (Y/n)'s lips as she dared not glance to the man on her left who seemed terribly persistent that he wanted to buy her a drink. (Y/n) had a drink in front of her so either this man was blind or he couldn't think of anything else to say that would capture her attention or get her to go home with him. Whatever he had said went in one ear and out the other as all (Y/n) could hear was Queen.

"How about I buy you a drink?" (Y/n) realised quickly she must have drowned out whatever he had said first as her ears seemed to tune in on his voice halfway through. Maybe it had been his name, or some kind of introduction or maybe even a pickup line.

"I'm fine, thank you." A small, curt smile pulled at her rosy lips as she nodded her head to the man in a gesture of kindness, not wanting to be rude. Her hand gestured to the full glass of beer settled right in front of her, begging to be drank.

"Maybe somethin' a little stronger? You look like you could use it, and some good company."

The smile that pulled at his lips resembled that of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, but at the same time, it was twisted into such a crooked way that sent violent shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with the music pulsing through her ears. A feeling rocked her heart in her chest the wrong way as she felt the urge to pull back, but there was nowhere to go unless she leaned and sat on the lady sitting next to her which didn't seem like an option.

"My boyfriend will be off stage in a minute, I'll have the company then, thank you." (Y/n) cocked her head in the direction of the stage on their right before turning to look at the boys again. A smile instantly lighting up her features when Roger locked eyes with her. His head ticked to the side as he held up one drumstick, their little signal that they had one more song to go before they had finished the set. Roger loved playing, he could never get enough of the feeling but at the same time, he was beginning to get drenched in sweat. He wanted to sit with his girlfriend and have a beer before heading home, it was about time to call it a night now.

"Hope you're not implying your guy is the singer." The man responded with a scoff, leaning his elbows on the bar as he brought his drink to his lips. Knowing he had caught her attention now but unsure if it was because she was actually with the singer, because she had made up a lie or because she was friends with the singer.

(Y/n) knew whatever poison was going to spout from his lips was not going to be good and he should know she was not going to take it lightly. The band were her family. Roger was her guy, John and Brian were like her brothers and Freddie was her best friend. Anything said against any of them would never be taken lightly by (Y/n) each comment would be taken to the heart and she would defend any and all of them whenever and wherever needed.

"Why is that?"

"Look at the freak. You're the prettiest thing in here but he wouldn't go for you, he goes for the guys."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened at the words that sent a rocket of fury through each and every nerve in her body. She wasn't dating Freddie, he was her best friend. He was dating Mary but it was no secret amongst them all that Freddie would go for a guy if he wasn't in a relationship and a nice guy came along. Freddie had often commented to (Y/n) about some of the guys and had given her advice before she was dating Roger. It was no problem to her that he liked both men and women, if Freddie liked guys then good on him he had the right to be with whoever he wanted.

That didn't give this stranger the right to comment about Freddie and make judgements when he didn't know him at all. He didn't know how kind, caring, sweet and outrageous Freddie was and everything in between. He couldn't judge someone by their cover even if he was clearly homophobic.

Something inside of (Y/n) snapped like an elastic band before her body catapulted round to face the man that was in for the shock of his life. Not thinking twice (Y/n) lunged her head forward, bashing her forehead into the stranger's nose which sent him reeling. His body catapulting from the barstool where he sat from the sudden shock that created an explosion in his head. Every nerve seemed to set alight as a sudden stream of blood started to trickle from his nose, quickly increasing in pace. Blood poured out of the stranger's nose like (Y/n) had simply turned on a tap between his eyes. Her knee launching out so that her foot could collide with his manhood, forcing him to double over, unsure whether to hold his dripping nose or his other area of newfound pain.

Roger's hand clashed onto the cymbal as his body caught one of the various wires set up around his drum kit. His eyes wide in his skull when he watched his girl headbutt the man standing next to her. His body pushed Brian out his way, not meaning to be rude but needing to be quick at the same time. Roger jumped from the stage in a heartbeat, his lean figure pushing through the crowds that decided it was their job to get in his way. His hair thankfully brushing behind his face as opposed to obstructing his vision as he ran to his girlfriend who was suddenly turning wild.

"Homophobic bastard!" (Y/n) practically screamed, about to send her fist straight for his face when arms suddenly locked around her waist. Her back becoming flush against a very familiar chest that lifted her from her feet in order to pull her back a few paces to keep her out of the firing line. Roger's eyes closed in relief when Brian and Freddie were quick to push the guy out of the way and stand in front of (Y/n) so she couldn't kick out. Her arms flying around to try and break free as tears streamed down her features.

"Wow, wow baby that's enough." Roger stated calmly, spinning around so his back was to Brian and the stranger before setting (Y/n) to her feet. Watching her spin around to face him before he grabbed her wrists firmly but not harshly or with enough pressure to hurt. Holding her hands to his chest, leaning closer to her. "What's happened?" Roger whispered, trying to calm her down and it seemed to be working.

(Y/n)'s chest heaved with anger and adrenaline but she could feel the rage slowly subsiding from her body. The stranger now had a battered nose, a killer headache and a bruised manhood. He had gotten what he deserved for speaking about Freddie in that manner, she didn't need to rage at him any more than this.

None of them cared that she had stopped their gig that was coming close to an end, they were more worried about the reason behind her outburst. Each member of the band knew her well enough to know that flying off the handle like she clearly had was not something that was in her sweet and rather introverted nature. Calm and collected was her persona that she showed to the world, raging out and attacking someone was not in her nature nor was it something she did on a daily basis or had ever done in front of them before.

Deciding that this was not the best place to talk, Roger glanced his eyes at the band before quickly guiding (Y/n) past the stage to the door that led into the back room of the pub that was strictly private. A room that the band were allowed to use after gigs to calm down and start packing everything away.

When the door was safely closed behind them and there was no one in sight Roger rested his hands either side of (Y/n)'s face, leaning his forehead against her own as he silently waited to be told what had happened.

"Sweetheart, talk to me. What the hell happened back there?"

Now that the adrenaline had run its course through her blood it couldn't prevent the pain that was dying to flood to the front of her head. Each blood vessel screaming as it supplied her forehead with its needed supply as well as an added dose of pain. (Y/n) hadn't felt a thing when her forehead connected with the man's nose but right now she could feel every nerve and blood vessel that her head enclosed. She could feel the blood fizzling in her veins to the point she wondered if she was going to pass out.

"Bastard tried to hit on me and then started saying rude stuff about Freddie. I couldn't let him say that and get away with it." (Y/n) thought that Roger would say something about her being reckless or needing to control her anger. She thought maybe he would be angry that she had cut the performance short of the last song that always let them go out with a bang. Maybe he was mad that she had lashed out. But when her eyes locked with Roger's she saw a sense of... pride, in them. His lips curved into a smile that was as smug as she had ever seen it. 

"Well done, baby. You certainly gave him what for."

Leaning forward Roger gently tilted her head up so he could press a kiss to her forehead which he knew would become agony soon. Making her feel like she was having some God awful kind of hangover in the morning when she had had only one pint of beer.

"That's my girl."

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