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elusivecagedmockingbird · 2 months

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Orbiting: pt.4°

: pt.1° | pt.2° - pt.2,5° | pt.3°

[icehockey!jungkook x figureskater!reader] [3.9k smut, angst. There's swearing; bitch-calling (non-sexual); this is purely fiction, please practice safe sex!; tons of dialogues. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, but tbh, I kinda struggled to steer the plot.

Also! Happy Hobi Day! Please give Be My Mistake some love, too! (if u want)

"Isn't that your girl, cozying up to Park?"

The first thing Jungkook sees is you—back on the rink, just where you belong. He's never seen someone as graceful as you glide. You always look beautiful like this, he thinks. The apples of your cheeks are rounded and rosy from the cold, and the corners of your eyes wrinkle as you laugh.

You always reverted to the nine-year-old you when you were left free to skate—so carefree and unafraid. There were moments like now when he could watch you move smoothly on the ice and soar in the air forever. Days like today are what he will always be thankful for, and he hopes you get to have forever. No longer does he want to see you put yourself through so much pain and endure it for the sake of being the best in your sport. While Jungkook knows all too well that you need to put in the hard work to get a step forward toward your dream of being professionals in your own field, he also knew when too much was too much. In all those days where you suffered, Jungkook did, too. So, he vowed to never forget that there's a version of you who knew how to revel and not overthink every move she made on the ice. And it is his duty to always remind you of her.

Your squeal broke him out of his trance. And Jungkook would have felt the strain in his muscle when he whipped his head, turning to look through the glass, past the bleachers, if the sight hadn't irked him. Jealousy stirred as he spots Jimin's arms on your waist and the other outstretched to hold yours. He knows it's nothing malicious. You've been practicing that stance with him for years when you were kids, thanks to his mom. But something about seeing Jimin with you and the fact that you've defended the guy when Jungkook blamed him for your sprained leg AND even managed to gush about how graceful he skates left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Plus, not to be bitter and petty, but Jungkook thinks he skates well—better even. And yet you've never complimented him.

"Not my girl," Jungkook murmurs under his breath. "And it's a routine. Not exactly cozying up." He scoffs and takes his stick from Yugyeom a little too aggressively, causing his friend-slash-teammate to chuckle.

"You seem to know a lot about routines," Jackson cuts in. "But then again, why wouldn’t you, Jungkook?" The lilt in the older man's voice as he said Jungkook's name wasn't unnoticed, but Jungkook didn't have enough patience and attention to spare to even humor the guy. He also knew whatever Jackson had to say would be anything but a friendly banter.

Jungkook only acknowledges the man with a side-eye and raised brow as he tapes his hockey stick.

Unfortunately, Jackson refuses to shut his mouth; the man is clearly on a mission to get a reaction from Jungkook.

The rest of the hockey team starts to come out of the locker rooms, clumping to the bleachers. With the gathering crowd, Jackson raises his voice, demanding attention and an audience. "You know, there's this move figure skaters do where they spin and spin and spin, circling around their partner." With his head tilted and standing in front of Jungkook, he gives him a haughty glare.

And still, Jungkook’s attention remains on you. You’re only just occupying your side of the rink—the opposite side where his team is gathered at. Whatever you hear on your end should be incoherent. You don't need to hear the bullshit coming out of his teammate's mouth, he thinks.

"What was it she preferred to call it again?" Jackson pretends to wait for Jungkook to answer. Yugyeom, on the other hand, looked apologetic. What started out as playful teasing turned into a way for Jackson to provoke their team captain, and everyone knew how Jackson loved to rile Jungkook. While everyone thought it was because the older man lost the title to someone younger, that was only partly the reason.

"Ah, right," Jackson walks closer to Jungkook. He claps Jungkook's shoulder before gripping tightly into it. "Orbiting,” Jackson grins. He’s taunting, hooking Jungkook, demanding his full attention. “Y/N does it well, but you clearly do it the best,” he mocks. “It’s comical watching you run in circles around the bitch for years.” His sly smile turns to pointed chuckles as he feels Jungkook tense under his grip.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Closing in on Jungkook's ear, Jackson whispers, "Don't worry, I'm pretty sure she does it intentionally, especially to guys she dances with. I bet Park's gonna be her new boy toy now, huh?"

Jungkook was never a violent man. Even on the ice, in a game, he never started brawls. The one time he got tangled in a fight, he couldn’t stand the disappointed glare you gave him. It hurt more than the 13 stitches on his head and scarier than his mom’s scolding.

And yet, Jungkook throws the first punch straight to Jackson’s jaw.

Jungkook can take a joke and can easily shake off empty trash talk and name-calling from his team. In fact, he lets them make jokes about him about his blatant simping for you because it’s true, and anything untrue, he doesn’t see the point in entertaining it. But he draws the line when the jabs are at the expense of the people he loves.

In a matter of seconds, Jackson returns the punch, and a full brawl breaks out.

On the opposite end, you and Jimin match your stride as a pair—being aware of each other’s movement and syncing your limbs to move as one; oblivious to the growing chaos.

You’re in the middle of a Lutz when the commotion steals your focus. You wobble on your landing and Jimin’s quick to hold you from falling. You turn towards the racket and see a mass of bulky men shouting.

It’s Jungkook’s team.

You skate closer to the chaos, and it’s not until you see a pressed back on the glass, the number 97 jersey bold and taut on their back, that you speed skate. Behind you, Jimin calls your name and follows.

You see Yugyeom restrain Jackson, and the other guys are holding back Jungkook. A flurry of curse words flies out of Jackson’s mouth. Entering the box, your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. You can already see his busted lip and sore knuckles. You call his name, and he looks up, jaws locked and tense. It takes a moment for his clenched knuckles to relax. He stands up and shrugs off the arms holding him.

Yet again, Jackson cuts in, “You guys are quite a pair, huh?” he laughs, humorless.

“Man, shut the fuck up,” Yugyeom struggles but eventually manages to drag Jackson away from the group. Sensing that Jungkook won't follow and lunge at Jackson, the rest of the guys disperse. All that’s left gathered on the bleachers is you and Jungkook.

And Jimin.

Your new partner’s existence annoys Jungkook. Your doe-eyed friend wonders if Jimin knows he doesn’t have to stand so close beside you. He watches with eagle eyes as Jimin hands out your skate guards. You teeter sideways as you clasp the rubber on your skates, and Jungkook hates the sight in front of him—you’re holding on to Jimin for support, and his arm is on your waist to keep you steady.

Fueled by jealousy and adrenaline, Jungkook walks towards you just in time to catch your arm away from Jimin’s body as you switch to putting on the other rubber guard on your skates.

You feel smushed as you stand sandwiched between two guys. Feeling claustrophobic, you push Jungkook by his chest to look at his injuries. “Your lips are bleeding,” your tone colder than ice, a contrast to your warm hands inspecting the blooming bruises on his face. “It’s nothing,” Jungkook murmurs, his head turning sideways, away from you.

You tsk at his stubbornness and press your thumb on his split lip, earning a pained hiss. “We have to clean this so it doesn’t scar.” Before Jungkook can protest and put on his macho bravado, you turn to Jimin. “Can we take a rain check on lunch?” your voice barely above a whisper. But Jungkook’s not only stubborn, he’s nosey, too—masking how hard he strains to listen to your conversation with an unbothered face.

There's an exchange of whispers, then Jimin looks at him, then back at you. He smiles and nods at you. “I'll see you later, then.” His hands connect with your arm for a comforting squeeze before leaving.

Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“Where are we going?” Jungkook follows you as you drag him by his arm along the corridors. “The clinic’s closed on weekends,” he points out, but the only response he gets is a huff.

You’re a bit eerily quiet. Calm, even. He fears what follows, so he thinks of a way to pacify you.

“Well. Lucky for you, Jeon, I have the keys.” You dangle the set of keys on your fingers. “Your mom gave them to me before she left.”

You unlock the clinic and usher Jungkook in the compact space. “I seem to always end up hurt when I practice and it’s not like your mom has her eyes on me all the time, so she lends me the key to the clinic.” You push Jungkook to the foamed table. “Sit.”

Jungkook follows suit, still mum, still thinking. He knows he's on wafer-thin ice with you, but even so, he can't help but love the attention you’re giving him and the fact that you’re away from Jimin.

The image of you and Park on the rink is still vivid in his memory, stirring the tinge of jealousy that resides inside him. So, as you rummage through the cabinets, Jungkook pulls you close to him. “C’mere,” he whispers.

“Hold on, I have to find something for your lip.” Your body extends in the small space. Your arms are outstretched while you rummage through the cabinet for bandages and antiseptic cream, and your lower half is awkwardly bent, thighs wedged between Jungkook’s, and his hands support your hips.

“Forget the cream. I know a better way to have this healed quickly.” His arms engulf your waist and pull you completely to him. You turn to tell him off, but before words can leave your mouth, Jungkook slots his lips to yours.

Before things could escalate, you begrudgingly pull away. “Nuh-uh. You think you’re so sly, huh?” You pinch his chin. “I still need to interrogate you on what exactly happened with Jackson back there.”

Jungkook deflates. “You know Jackson. He was spouting nonsense, and I guess he just got on my nerves.”

Curiosity peaked, you push Jungkook to tell you more. “What nonsense?” Your willful streak shows in your furrowed eyebrows. On most days, he loves it, but on a day like today, he wishes you knew when to get the hint and just drop it.

Jungkook groans. “I’m just really having one of those days, Y/N.” Arms still wrapped around your waist, he leans forward to rest his head on your chest. Instinctively, you run your fingers through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. Your best friend moans, and for the first time since you pulled him away from the bleachers, you let out a smile.

“Make me feel better,” he breathes. His face now burrowing into your breasts, and his fluffy hair tickles you.

“Gguk,” you giggle. “We’re in the clinic, and I'm pretty sure there are people nearby.” You softly pull at his hair to remove his head between your tits, but he just moans.

Oh.

“Don’t care, baby. Just focus on me,” he proposes with a kiss on your neck and his hands make soothing work on your back. When the only response he gets from you is a satisfied hum, he sits up further on the table. He lowers his hand, tapping your ass before he pulls you by the backs of your knees so you straddle his thighs on the table.

“Fuck, I love it when you wear skirts.” Jungkook’s hand disappears inside your clothes, palms once again making contact with your ass before he claws at your tights. “This I hate, though. Fuck.” he grumbles at the sheer garment.

“Oh, that's a shame," you pout. "I actually thought you'd love it. It’s crotchless," the last sentence coming out in a whisper. Cue another curse from his mouth. You momentarily pull away to get off the table and shed your safety shorts. “Need those off, Jeon," you command with a shoot of your brow towards his pants. “Wanna feel you. Don’t you want to feel me?”

You're a fucking tease, and Jungkook loves it.

You watch him struggle to unlatch his belt clasp—he’s roughly pulling at his padded pants and while you want to help, you decide to enjoy the sight before you as his thick thighs come into view. You climb back on top of Jungkook, his eyes following your movement until you plop your ass to his growing bulge.

Jungkook flips the front of your skirt and goes breathless at the sight. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Only for you.” Hands gripping his shoulders as an anchor, you drag your wet pussy to his bulge, and you both moan. “Wore this for you," you pant. "I knew you were practicing today and thought you'd need a cooldown after." You’re full-on humping him, drawing pleasured gasps from the man below you.

“Well, fuck me,” Jungkook throws his head back, eyes up on the ceiling and he thanks his lucky stars for you. You pull at his tight underwear, and his hard cock springs free—swollen red and leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight, and your pussy clenches at nothing.

“Please, Jungkook,” you plead. You’re beyond turned on. Your arousal mixes with Jungkook’s precum, and you can smell the sex permeating the air. It drives you feral. You spit at his cock before stroking it.

Jungkook revels in your neediness. This is what he wants—for you to need him, want him. And someday, he hopes it goes beyond sex. His arms pull your waist closer as you sink down on his cock in one drop.

“Shit, Y/N, you okay, baby?”

You respond with a breathy yes as you start bouncing on his dick. Your focus is directed on chasing your high and, at the same time, making sure Jungkook feels the same intensity of desire and pleasure you feel. With a roll of your hips, you clench around his shaft. He claws at your arched back as he sucks your tits with playful nips. Each sting heightens your arousal.

You play around with the angle of your hips and attune to Jungkook's reaction. But you struggle and near complete submission with each bite to your breast, every kiss to your lips, and slide to your folds. Once again, you’re rendered pliant and submissive on top of Jungkook.

Feeling you slow down, Jungkook taps your burning thighs. “On your back, baby,” he rasps. You shake your head but move to get on all fours—you raise your hips, shuffling to snuggle his cock in your ass and stretch your back. And to top it off, you clasp your hands on your back, giving him something to hold as he pounds into you.

Behind you, Jungkook is gobsmacked. What are you doing to him?

Presenting yourself for his use, Jungkook doesn't hesitate to hold your behaved hands with one grip, and his other hand guides his dick to smear your slick from your folds to your ass. He preens at the noises you make.

"Please," you drool. "Please what? Tell me what you want, baby," his voice matches the slow and soft movement of his tip on your folds.

With one last teasing push of his tip to your puffy clit, he completely bottoms out and holds.

“How’s that for feeling me, baby?” His lips ghost the shell of your ear, and it tickles you just right. You clench around him and reclaim one of your restrained hands between your now folded bodies to draw circles on your clit. You hear Jungkook chuckle before leaving a quick peck on your cheek. As he straightens up to pull out his dick, he reaches to swat your naughty hand on your clit and replaces it with his.

And it feels better.

His fingers play with your nub and continue to plunge in and out of you. The sound that echoes around the tiny room is pure filth—guttural groans and whiny moans harmonize.

“Baby, cum for me,” Jungkook hastens his rhythmic thrusting, and with a soft flick to your clit, you come undone. His movements quicken and cum-soaked hands travel upwards to your body to fondle your tits like it's his personal stress ball.

“Shit Jungkook. Feels good," you blabber. You love how you can feel his weight on top of you; the pressure makes his pounding harder and deeper and it overrides your oversensitivity. The pleasure is too good, too strong. With a bite to your shoulder to muffle himself, you cum with him.

“Don’t forget your shorts. Can’t have you skating with Park wearing just that."

"Right," you giggle and put on your shorts. "Can't be traumatizing my partner this soon."

"Good girl." Jungkook pats your ass.

"Hey," your hands pull Jungkook before he can leave. "What really happened back there?"

"Y/N, I told you it was nothing."

"Nothing? Jungkook, had the fight been longer, you could've been dismissed from the upcoming game."

"Well, we're fine. Plus, Jackson's not going to do anything or tell the coach. It's both our asses on the line."

"That doesn't mean you can go around throwing punches now. What if—"

Throwing his head back, Jungkook lets out a bitter laugh, cutting you off. As he returns to face you, he sees the focused glare on your eyes—lids sharp and brows knitted. You're annoyed.

But so is he.

“You really wanna know? Fine. Jackson called me out. He said it was fucking comical how I wait around you like a lovesick puppy. It's actually a fucking running joke in our team that when you call, I come running." Words and feelings overflowed out of Jungkook's mouth, but he was not close to being done. "And as much as I hate to admit it, it’s actually true, and someone like him throwing that to my face just struck a nerve. He deserved the punch for running his mouth and calling you a bitch, too. Y/N, if you've heard the names he's called you, comments he made—"

"I don't care about that, Jungkook," you interrupt. One moment, you're in bliss, and now you've been hit with an accusation. "I don't care if he calls me a bitch or paints me however he wants. It's you I care about. I worry that one day, he manages to push you to your breaking point, and you do something that kicks you off the team." You feel like a bubble filled with emotions burst inside you, leaving you conflicted with what you feel. You're angry at Jackson, but also, if you think Jungkook is saying what he is saying, then half of you blooms in hope, but the other wilts at the revelation that he said it like he resents what he's feeling.

“So, do you resent me? For, I don't know, calling you? Wanting to be with you? Being friends with you?" The last question left your lips in a murmur. You've ranked low in competitions before, but you've never looked as defeated as you do now. To make it worse, you stand pathetic in front of Jungkook.

“I’m not saying that," Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. "I’ve been in love with you, Y/N,” he can’t believe he’s saying it out loud.

Jungkook imagined his confession to be far from this wreckage. This moment was the polar opposite of how he wanted it to go, but the words flurry out of his mouth before he could think of them. “I love you, but you’re always too hung up on every new guy that comes along to even see me…” he swallows the sob rising in his throat. “Sometimes I wonder if you keep me as a placeholder until a new guy comes.”

“A placeholder?” You're horrified. Jungkook's breaking your heart, and the thought that you apparently broke his shatters the pieces further.

“Aren’t I? When Jackson joined our team, all he had to do was wink and throw a cheesy line at you, and you’re all about him. And now Jimin—”

“Jimin?” Now, you're confused.

“Yes, Jimin. All he had to do was skate with you, and suddenly, I’m on the backburner.”

“Jungkook, where is this coming from? You’re making me out as someone who’s never been a friend to you.”

“Oh, you’ve been a friend, alright. But you can’t deny you’ve strung me up all along. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how I feel and you—”

“Stop," you plead. "Oh god, Jungkook, stop talking, please.” The tears you were holding back now freefall to your cheeks. “All this time, this is how you felt. You have been resenting me—"

"That's not what I'm saying! Do you not understand me?" Jungkook grows frustrated.

“No, I understand, Jungkook. Perfectly. I understand I’ve been selfish, teetering between wanting to keep you close to me and keeping you at a distance to protect myself." You don't want to invalidate his feelings, but he also needs to know where you're at. Thousands of thoughts are drowning you, and you're nowhere close to navigating your feelings; you're still conflicted and lost. But most of all, afraid. Will you lose Jungkook now? It frightens you that one wrong decision could crash your friendship beyond fixable. "But Jungkook, I’ve never seen you as someone I can set aside for anyone else because you’ve always been the first person I look for and reach out to. Even when I always thought you were so close yet so far to me, but still I—"

A knock pops the bubble you’re in. Rushing to wipe your cheeks dry, the door swings open to a clueless and shocked Jimin, eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Shit, sorry," Jimin fidgets between wanting to close the door and leave but decides he'd rather not get in trouble, so with eyes on the floor, he calls for you.

"Coach is going ballistic looking for you, Y/N. And him, too. I mean, their coach is looking for him. He heard of the fight.”

More worry rushes to you. You try hard to stay afloat and level-headed, but you're sinking and sinking. “Right,” you clear your throat. “We were just cleaning up. We’re done here anyway.”

Once again, you feel claustrophobic. You need to leave. You don't trust yourself to make any decision in the state you're in. The last time you made a decision from what you were feeling, you made a selfish proposal to Jungkook. And look where that's gotten you now. You can't think, so you rush to leave the room, folding your arms before Jungkook can grab your wrist.

“Wait, Y/N—”

You linger briefly at the door, just enough so he can catch the defeated words that you speak, “We’re done, Jungkook.”

>> Page 5

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook scenarios #pwp fics #jungkook pwp #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bangtan #jimin mentioned!

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lutewife · 3 months

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Hazbin Hotel reacts to...

Part 1:

A Lively Reader

Warnings: Cannibalism mentioned in Alastor's part, but overall it's pure fluff and crack. Notes: Had so much fun writing it, esp on Alastor's part haha! Also it reminded me of those gacha life reaction videos… If you know you know 😂 Dunno if I did it right, though, kind of looks like headcanons to me, but enjoy nevertheless! Oh, and I tried to write it gender neutral, hope you don't mind. This will be two parts, since it's easier for me to do it like that.

Charlie's probably the easiest one.

She is so, SO happy to have new residents, regardless of how they behave or look.

The first thing that will stand out to her, though is your colourful personality.

You match her energy? That surely is something new to this girl, but she absolutely doesn't mind. In fact, she is more than happy to have someone like that in the hotel.

If you are actually interested in redemption, EVEN BETTER. I think this lil' gal would literally burst with joy.

Would ask you lots of questions about the human world and listen with curiosity, since she didn't have a chance to be a human herself.

She'll probably recruit you to help her with hotel stuff, making an use of your lively personality to encourage potential residents to stay at the hotel, if you want.

Doesn't think much of your style, but she likes the variety of colours. It seems very refreshing to her.

About you liking physical touch: she will gladly let you hug her or something, she'll reciprocate happily. She really likes how your fur feels too!

Your relationship with your friend reminds her of hers with Vaggie a little.

I can actually see you becoming good friends!

Now, Vaggie probably likes you, because her girlfriend likes you, at first, let's be real haha

The first thing that will stand out to her is your looks. In her mind, it tells a lot about people. And you made a really friendly impression, despite sharing looks with a tiger, which is a generally dangerous animal.

But you are far from dangerous and that's what she likes about you.

At first, her and Charlie will be hesitant to allow you and your friend to go out much, because they are scared of you getting into trouble, since you just arrived at hell and aren't used to rules prevailing there, but eventually they will stop babying you two.

If she sees someone being mean or potentially trying to hurt you, she'll step in and protect you, mainly for Charlie's sake.

She doesn't want any new residents getting killed even before the chance to get redeemed.

Will probably get a little jealous if you're getting physical with Charlie, but if you gain her trust, she'll stop.

If you want to hug her, she'll accept, although she isn't that much of a touchy person as Charlie is.

Thinks your style is an eye-strain, but won't tell you that EVER. She believes that everyone should dress how they want.

Just like Charlie, your relationship with your friend reminds her of their dynamic.

Let's be honest, Alastor is an enigma when it comes to people.

You cannot immediately see what he thinks based on his reactions or expression.

I think that the first thing he would notice about you is your smile, if you actually are smiling. He appreciates people that wear it frequently. Otherwise he wouldn't care.

Just as he does to every resident: he would pity you and your friend. He also isn't so fond of new sinners and you aren't an exception.

Would probably warm up to you if you're cheerful. You might annoy him if you're too noisy, though.

As a jerk that he is, he would probably try to bullshit you into thinking some random untrue stuff about hell.

"Yes, my dear. Here in hell, we don't eat anything except our victim's flesh."

You would believe him and be scared shitless.

Charlie reassures you he was only making fun of you and scolds him afterwards, though.

He would absolutely not allow you to touch him. If you'd be trying to hug him, he'll probably step away from you, making you fall on your face. (I'm so sorry for this part, I needed to write it, it was just too funny HAHAHAH)

As for you and your friend's relationship, he couldn't care less. He thinks you're equal to each other.

Okay, now Husk's reaction is…

Nonexistent.

The first thing he would notice is that you're… Oh you're a tiger demon. He would raise his stupidly large eyebrow at this. Overall not much of a reaction. Wouldn't even say hi to you.

At first he wouldn't be a fan of your lively attitude, since he can't match your level of enthusiasm. But I mean I guess he'd think that's good for you.

After some time, though, he would warm up to you, since you're relatively friendly. Wouldn't mind hearing you yap for hours at the bar. He's used to it.

If you grow on him, he might start getting overprotective with you, especially when around Alastor.

He doesn't want you to end up like him, especially if you don't know what you're doing, yet.

(Alastor might purposely anger him by getting closer to you.)

He isn't a big fan of physical touch, either. If you hug him, he might get startled at first, but wouldn't mind. He won't hug you back, though.

Probably thinks your style is an eyesore like Vaggie, but wouldn't tell you, too. I mean he's not exactly the right person to judge.

Out of you two, he can relate to your friend most. Doesn't think of your dynamic that much.

Oh god this little gremlin…/a

Her first impression of you would probably be that you brought too much dirt after yourself.

Couldn't care less about where you come from, how you look and act if you're not a handsome bad boy.

At least at first.

Would notice you and your lively attitude if you respond to her chaotic behaviour positively.

You two would be an iconic, hyperactive duo. Charlie and Vaggie would literally have to stop you two from your shenanigans.

She would climb up your head or your shoulder randomly.

Would probably chomp your hand if you tried to hug her, but then give you the best small hug ever.

Loves your choice of clothing so much that when she cleans, she might steal your shirt and use it as a dress.

Okay, this guy is absolutely unhinged, as we know...

The first thing he notices is your fur, he thinks it's really nice and would probably try to pet you.

Will probably jokingly flirt with you at first.

Would actually pity you and your friend, but it's not the same pity as Alastor's, he genuinely feels bad for you two, because he knows how terrifying it is to feel out of place in hell. You might do some things you're gonna regret for the rest of your afterlife...

That's why he silently assures you're not going near Val or the other V's, EVER.

Especially considering your friendly personality.

He likes that you're very lively, at least there is someone in this place with whom he can cause mischief and annoy the shit out of every resident.

Would try to annoy you, but fail miserably, and you probably end up annoying him instead. (Don't worry he still likes you)

Absolutely ADORES your sense of style, probably dresses you up and goes shopping for clothes with you.

He loves physical touch too! Would randomly lean on you or pat you on the head. If you try to hug him, he'll happily oblige and you'll get the absolute best hug ever. Out of everyone in the hotel, he is the best hugger, you can't tell me otherwise haha

Overall I can see that you'll get along pretty well!

Add. Notes: Hope you liked these little headcanons slash reactions idk what this is anymore, but yeah! If you enjoyed, don't be shy, repost and let me know in the comments, they are greatly appreciated! See you in the next one, darlings 🫶

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x you #vaggie x reader #charlie x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x reader #niffty x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon

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sydsaint · 2 months

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My sweet himbo, I love you <3

Summary: With his tag match against Tony D and Stacks looming, Bron looks to an old friend to help deal with Tony's cousin Adriana.

It's chaos at the end of NXT's weekly taping. Bron and Baron are fresh off a win against Chase University and about to head backstage when Tony D'Angelo and Stacks attack them.

Baron handles Tony inside the ring and leaves Bron to go after Stacks. Breakker chases Tony's lackey around the ring, quickly gaining on the smaller man.

"Woah! Hold on there big guy." Suddenly Tony's cousin, Adriana Rizzo, steps into Bron's path, forcing Breakker to come to a halt.

"Move out of the way!" Bron glares down at Adriana as Stacks hides behind her.

Adriana stands her ground and shield Stacks from Bron's wrath. "I don't think so, big fella." She insists with a smug laugh. "You want, Stacks? Then you's gon have to go through me."

Bron huffs an annoyed sigh and stares at Stacks over Adriana's shoulder. But Breakker knows better then to put his hands on a woman. Even if it is just to move her out of the way.

In the ring, Tony escapes from Baron after getting a few hits in and regroups with his so-called, family. The trio all group up at the bottom of the ramp and laugh at Baron and Bron.

"Enjoy those belts while you still can boys!" Tony taunts the pair. "Because you ain't gonna have them for much longer."

Bron joins Baron in the ring and the pair lock eyes with Stacks and Tony. Aggressive glares are exchanged before Stacks and Tony head back up the ramp with Adriana between them and the champs.

Once they are out of sight, Bron and Baron head back up the ramp as well with their titles in hand.

"Man! What the hell happened out there, Bron?" Corbin confronts Bron back in the locker room. "I thought you had Stacks?" He asks Breakker.

"Tony's cousin stepped in my way." Bron explains. "I was gonna spear the idiot through the barricade. But what was I supposed to do? Take the girl out with him?" He huffs in frustration.

Corbin groans and rubs his head. "You should have called her bluff, man." He insists. "She would have moved out of the way."

"And if she didn't?" Bron protests. "Come on man. I don't put my hands on women." He reminds Corbin. "And neither do you. So don't act like you'd of done something, Baron." He adds.

Corbin sighs but nods. "Yeah, you're right." He grits his teeth. "It's bullshit! How are we supposed to teach Tony and Stacks a lesson if they're just going to hide behind Ariana from now on?" He complains.

"I don't suppose you've got a convenient cousin laying around?" Bron jokes to lighten the mood.

"Hey, you're from the wrestling family." Baron chuckles. "I should be asking you that question."

Bron laughs with Corbin then an idea pops into his head. "Well, I don't have any cousins. But I do have a friend that might be willing to help us out." He suggests to Corbin. "She's a Smackdown superstar, has been for a while. But we've been friends for a long time."

"Yeah?" Baron perks up a bit at the prospect of the Adriana problem being an easy fix. "Who is it? Anyone I might know?" He asks Bron.

"Depends." Bron shrugs. "You know a, YN LN?" He asks Corbin.

Baron chokes on his spit at the mention of your name and begins shaking his head. "Her? Bron, hell no!" he protests. "That woman is pure evil! You're friends with her?" He looks at Bron in disbelief.

"So you have met, YN." Bron chuckles. "She's not that bad, Corbin. And like I said, we're old friends." He adds. "I'll give her a call and see if she can meet us before the next taping starts in a few hours." Bron pulls out his phone. "She lives nearby and shouldn't be traveling for Smackdown right now."

Corbin begrudgingly nods and watches Bron dial your number. He watches Breakker have a brief conversation that sounds friendly enough for a few minutes. Bron hangs up the phone a few minutes later with a satisfied smile and nods to Corbin.

"She's on her way." Bron smiles to himself, mentally patting himself on the back for his quick thinking.

"Great." Corbin grumbles to himself. "Invite the devil to our locker room why don't you." He huffs.

Bron laughs at Corbin's foul mood and pats his friend on the arm. "Man, what did YN do to you?" He asks Corbin.

"She hasn't done anything to me personally." Corbin replies. "But I've seen that girl make grown men run away from her. She's scary." He shudders.

"That ain't the YN I know." Bron replies. "The YN I know is a total sweetheart. Yeah, she can be a little manipulative. But she's always had my back when I've needed someone in my corner." He smiles to himself.

Corbin raises a brow at Bron, sensing that there might be some lingering feelings for you on Breakker's part. "So, were the two of you like a thing? Or?" He asks Bron.

"Me and YN? Nah, I never managed to work up the courage to ask her out. Like you said, she's intimidating." Breakker laughs at himself.

Around an hour later a knock sounds at the door and Bron jumps to answer it. Baron watches cautiously as Bron answers the door and you step into the locker room.

"Bron! How's my favorite himbo doing?" You bounce into the room and instantly go in for a hug.

"YN!" Bron happily pulls you in for a hug and shuts the door at the same time. "I've been good. Tag champs now with Corbin here. Which is why I called you up." He explains.

You let go of Bron and turn your head to the other side of the room where Corbin is sitting. "Baron." You greet him dryly.

"Hey, YN. Nice to see you again." Baron nods at you in a friendly but clearly nervous manner.

"Tag champs, huh? Nice going, Bron!" You turn back to Bron with a cheeky smile. "Now. What can I help you and baldy with?" You ask him.

Bron laughs at your shot against Corbin and explains the situation with Tony and his fam. You listen carefully and nod along with everything Bron is explaining. He finishes up his explanation and you nod.

"So Tony thinks that he can use his cousin to get a one-up on my boy for his title belt, huh?" You rise to your feet and crack your knuckles. "Well, we can't have that, now can we? I assume that you two can get Tony and Stacks back out to the ring?" You ask Bron.

"Yeah, shouldn't be a problem." Bron nods.

You nod and roll your shoulder to loosen them up. "Perfect. You two get the two stooges out in the ring and ready to rumble. And I'll make sure that Miss Rizzo ain't a problem this time." You grin to yourself.

Bron and Corbin do as told and head out to the ring when NXT's next taping starts. Tony and Stacks come out to the ring to confront the champs, but Adriana isn't with them. A fight breaks out after some harsh words are exchanged and the pair are able to dispatch Tony and Stacks this time.

"I wonder how YN faired." Corbin asks Bron once Tony and Stacks are retreating from their beating.

As if on cue, you drag Adriana out to the top of the ramp by the air. She kicks and screams but you don't let up on her. "Hey! Tony D!" You catch D'Angelo's attention. "You think you can get your cousin to help you beat on on my man? Fuck no!" You yank Adriana up by the hair. "Try some cheap shit like that again and Adriana here won't be walking right for the rest of her sorry excuse for a career. Caphiche?" You make fun of his accent as the cherry on top.

You let Adriana go for Tony and Stacks to collect. They rush up the ramp to help their girl and you walk past them to the ring. You head up the stairs and slip into the ring with Corbin and Bron.

"Well." You gesture to the top of the ramp with a self-satisfied smile. "I don't think that she'll be a problem for you boys again." You laugh. "But just in case the bitch didn't learn her lesson, I'll stick around for a couple of weeks."

"Thanks, YN." Bron grins and slings an arm over your shoulder playfully. "I knew that I could count on you."

You giggle and hug his side. "Oh, anything for you, Bron." You joke. "Corbin. Close your mouth man." You add with snark when you notice Baron's jaw hanging ajar.

"Right." Corbin coughs. "Sorry, YN."

#wwe #wwe x reader #bron breakker #wwe fanfic #wwe fanfiction #wwe fic #wrestling #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #nxt #nxt x reader #nxt fanfic #nxt fic #syd's wrestling fics #bron breakker x reader

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leclerc-s · 7 months

Text

track 002. this is why we can't have nice things

─── ❝ here's a toast to my real friends, they don't care about the he said, she said ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

JULY 2016

daniel ricciardo living up to the name i see

carlos sainz who made max angry?

mae jones bold of you to assume it was one of us and not a reporter.

max verstappen one asked me if i agreed with those two. i said no. he got angry. i called him a fucking dick. i regret nothing.

daniel ricciardo had anyone checked up on her yet?

daphne jones i’m fine. everything is fine.

daniel ricciardo bullshit but whatever

mae jones it feels like i’m watching my parents fight.

daphne jones i’m fine, it’s not like i'm being called a snake and it feels like the entire world has turned against me. seriously, i’m fine

carlos sainz she’s lost it.

mae jones CARLOS! carlos sainz es la verdad (it's the truth)

daniel ricciardo would i got to jail for starting a fist fight with them? how do american politics work?

max verstappen i’m not sure but i’ll help.

daphne jones no. you two will do no such thing.

carlos sainz yes we will.

mae jones i can bail them out

daphne jones mae! stop encouraging this. mae jones but it’s so much fun

SEPTEMBER 2016

daphne jones we broke up.

daniel ricciardo sorry, do you need anything?

max verstappen you’re not sorry. what is it the teenagers say shoot your shot?

mae jones you are a teenager max max verstappen i meant the younger teenagers

daphne jones a nap and a bottle of fucking wine

daniel ricciardo i can help with wine, you’re on you own for the nap

daphne jones by the way, i’m performing after the us grand prix in october.

mae jones she drops that bomb and then just leaves? hello? we need answers?

OCTOBER 2016

liked by user81, user37, user16 and others

f1updates daphne jones preformed tonight at the circuit of the americas after the race earlier in the day. this marks the one-year anniversary since the eldest jones made her f1 debut. this also marks the singer’s first concert of the year since the end of her 1989 world tour. over 80,000 fans were in attendance and the superstar preformed some of her greatest hits including you belong with me, shake it off, and enchanted.

tagged daphnejones, f1, cota_official

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user27 🐍🐍🐍🐍

comment has been deleted by post creator

user56 gtfo with that bullshit.

user05 🐍🐍🐍🐍

comment has been deleted by post creator

user38 her tour flopped, it’s why she’s only preformed once this entire year

user72 or maybe the entire internet has been harassing her and she hasn’t felt mentally stable to preform? user68 friendly reminder that celebrities are people too. they have feelings like us and any other person.

user97 she looks stunning! despite everything happening she's glowing. am i curious why? yes. but she'll talk about it when she's ready.

user83 kim was right about her. she’s a snake.

comment has been deleted by post creator

user91 genuine question but why invite daphne jones? does she know anything about f1? or was it to sell tickets?

f1updates our best guess is that this was a marketing tool seeing as formula one isn’t as popular here in the states as it is in the rest of the world. daphne jones is a huge pop star and she would get the attention they need. she’s also close friends with max verstappen, carlos sainz, and daniel ricciardo.

user27 she’s trying to find a new f1 driver to sleep with. probably slept with half the grid by now. she needs to sleep around to be able to write music. she doesn’t sell without the men in her life.

comment has been deleted by post creator

f1updates we will not tolerate any bullying or hateful comments towards anyone posted on here, whether it be drivers or other celebrities. with that being said, we stand with daphne jones, if you don’t like that please unfollow and block. any further comments like this and you will be reported for harassment.

user58 daphne doesn't deserve the hate she is getting. props to f1updates for standing up for her, we aren't seeing a lot of that these days. f1updates this page was made to inform fans of f1 news not drama surrounding the drivers and their friends. we do not tolerate hate towards anyone

NOVEMBER 2016

mae jones max and i broke up. we thought you guys should be the first to know.

carlos sainz QUE? NO! POR QUE?

max verstappen some people grow apart carlos. it's that easy.

mae jones easy, right. max verstappen don't do this mae.

daniel ricciardo i feel like a child of divorce.

daphne jones i'm sorry that you two broke up. are you both okay?

mae jones the lie? yes. the truth? no. max verstappen no. daphne jones so if you two aren't fine they why did you two break up. mae jones reasons that neither of us wants to talk about

daniel ricciardo well if either of you two needs someone to talk to we're here.

carlos sainz i can't believe you two broke up. love is not real.

daniel ricciardo it seems like carlos' world is falling apart

carlos sainz no entiendes, i helped those two get together. i was like the baby with the arrows! mae jones he means cupid. when he's upset he forgets what words translate to. daphne jones we understood.

daniel ricciardo well now i won't be able to listen to EVOLution without crying.

max verstappen well how do you think i feel? mae jones i have to perform the songs on tour, how do you think i feel?

liked by user15, user09, user59

f1updates max verstappen and his girlfriend of a year and a half, mae jones, have broken up. do not make any assumptions as to why and give the two privacy. some of you are way too obsessed with their lives. (pictures acquired from mae's instagram, they have since been deleted.)

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user41 WHAT? THIS IS HOW I FIND OUT? BUT- THEY WERE SO CUTE

user15 romance is dead

user46 2016 has not been the year of the jones' sisters

user90 i would've committed war crimes for these two. she wrote an entire love album for him and now they're over? i can't believe this.

user09 as a fan of both jones' sisters this has not been our year. i'm in shambles.

user59 this was my last straw. i no longer believe in love.

FEBRUARY 2017

mae jones YOU TWO ARE FUCKING DATING? AND YOU SAID NOTHING? CALVIN? TOM? WERE THEY PR?

mae jones DAPHNE ALISON JONES! DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO! ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONES ASSHOLES!

daniel ricciardo hello. how'd you find out?

mae jones I JUST SAW YOU TWO KISSING IN THE RED BULL GARAGE. THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN HOW DID I FIND OUT? WERE YOU TWO JUST NEVER GOING TO TELL US? daniel ricciardo not never...just you know, when we felt like it max verstappen that's fair, we do spend way too much time together

daphne jones well what were you doing in the red bull garage 🤨?

mae jones VISITING MY FRIENDS AND CHRISTIAN! DO NOT USE EMOJIS ON ME RIGHT NOW DAPHNE!

max verstappen i saw this coming after austin last year, i figured it wasn't long. and then she dated other people and i sort of gave up hope.

carlos sainz i wanted to be cupid again. i had a plan and everything.

daniel ricciardo your time will come with someone else carlos.

mae jones how long?

daniel ricciardo september 28, 2016 max verstappen YOU WERE DATING IN SEPTEMBER? mae jones so the other two weren't pr? daphne jones tom was, the other one wasn't. daniel ricciardo i'll have you guys know i was secretly fighting with tom hiddleston for daphne and i came out on top! a win for australia! max verstappen she just said it was pr daniel ricciardo LET ME HAVE THIS VERSTAPPEN!

carlos sainz i can't believe this

max verstappen i know it was pr but you picked him? over tom hiddleston?

daniel ricciardo my enchanting personality won her over

mae jones to be fair i would pick daniel too. tom’s a sweetheart but daniel’s, you know, daniel.

carlos sainz when can i be cupid again? i want to set people up!

max verstappen are you single? you should not be invested in other people’s relationships this much.

mae jones i thought he was dating that girl, penelope.

carlos sainz 🤢 don’t ever say those words again. i would never.

daphne jones carlos unless the next words out of your mouth are ‘she’s like a sister to me’ don’t say anything

carlos sainz she’s my worst nightmare, i can’t stand her. i would never ever date her

daniel ricciardo screenshotting this for when you two start dating and i can make you look like an idiot.

max verstappen isn’t that every day?

carlos sainz i’m crashing into you at turn 1 the first chance i get

max verstappen i’d like to see you try

¡leclerc-s speaks! fear not people, a flashback to how we got here will be posted soon. please ignore the likes as they are not relevant to the story. it just looked too weird without anything down there (it’s just randomized numbers). i've also taken creative freedom with certain aspects of events that have unfolded. i didn't want to speak much about specific events so i've only skimmed over them. 2016 was truly not the year of the jones' sisters hence the mention of the mae x max break up.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x female oc #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic

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thegreatsolaris · 9 months

Note

Oooo drawing requests?? I love those!

May I request a doodle of my Narrator (or yours!) looking abso-fucking-lutely done with Stanley's bullshit? (✿❛◡❛)

How about a lil of both :) this was so fun! Love the freckles on your Stanley!

Friendly reminder to keep voting for sudou! For me ♡

#asks #my art #digital art #tsp #the stanley parable #tspud #tsp narrator #tsp stanley #stanarrator

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two-white-butterflies · 1 year

Text

WAITING FOR A BUS

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Reader, Daemon Targaryen x Reader (MODERN)

Description: A new promotion at work prompts you to move into a small modest town with your boyfriend, Aemond Targaryen. There you meet a few friendly faces. It seems like life is going where it's supposed to. That is until you meet your new boss, Daemon Targaryen, who is your boyfriend's estranged uncle.

It doesn't help with the fact that you've been having dreams about him since birth.

It was a shit storm from the beginning. You told him that attempting to murder his nephew was a death-wish. That they would never make it out alive. "You're not going anywhere," you mumble while holding him in place. He camped outside of Harrenhall for thirteen-fortnights. He wanted to kill Aemond — you of all people should know that.

"We're not retreating," he asserts while moving past you. Caraxes was slumbering behind you, a thick fog of smoke reigned over Gods Eye. It was the largest lake in all of the seven-kingdoms, and gods be damned if it became your beloved's sarcophagus. "I would rather die, woman." he gritted his teeth, staring demandingly at the stone castle.

The castle could easily be burnt by his dragon, but he couldn't ruin the only castle that reminded his niece of Harwin Strong. "— and die you will, if Aemond ever has the mind to descend upon us." you feared the one-eyed prince and his large dragon.

Vhagar was said to be the largest living dragon. You didn't have any doubts about that. "I will not die today, but my nephew — he might." he said smugly seeing the familiar figure of his petulant nephew.

Aemond's back was slumped, a sign of bad posture. In his right hand was a metal sword — on his left side was Alys Rivers, his loyal paramour. Daemon's hands found the small of your waist — feeling possessive over your small figure. Aemond was staring at you up and down, almost undressing you with his mere eye.

"Your cowardice has reached an end, dear nephew. It's nice of you to make your presence known." Daemon smirked while playing with the dark sister on his right hand. Only one of them will survive tonight, and it's going to be him. "You are the only coward here, uncle." the boy replied smugly while petting his dragon.

There were goosebumps on your hand. Throat attempting to leak green bile — but showing weakness wasn't good, he taught you that. The sounds became too loud, and soon — both of them began to board their dragons and fight atop the lake.

"Daemon!" you scream, seeing his figure disappear above the clouds.

——— Beads of sweat formed atop your forehead, hands grasping upon the velvet blanket, and you began to sit upright. Another fucking nightmare, you cursed while staring at the digital clock beside you. 3:41, the clock read as it beeped neon green. It was too early. Too fucking early for bullshit.

These nightmares have been haunting you as far as you can remember. Those lavender eyes that have been staring at you since you were just a little girl. It was stupid to dream about dragons and fire, yet the theme always stayed the same after all these years.

Aemond stirs awake, his heavy arms wrapped around your thighs. "Aemond," you whisper in a hoarse voice. Your loving boyfriend of six-years, knew all about these nightmares. "Go back to sleep," he replied in an equally hoarse voice.

The light of the lamp illuminated his neat features, his slender nose and sharp jawline. "I can't sleep," you whisper feeling your eyelids flutter in tiredness. When these 'night terrors' begin, there was no hope for rest. "Just close your eyes." he mumbled while pulling you back into the bed.

It stayed like that for a while. His broad chiseled arms wrapped around your petite figure — his legs there were rested atop yours. He had a steady breathing, mouth slightly ajar from all the lack of sleep. You didn't want to bother him, but sleep wasn't exactly coming.

You slither away from his grasp, avoiding his second-attempt at hugging you. In your place, you add a soft pillow smothered in between his legs. It was enough to fool a sleeping Aemond. You began to sashay into the living room, which was adjacent to the kitchen. The apartment had an open-concept to it, and thus you were able to see everything all at once.

You reach for the pack of bread inside the fridge (something Aemond found weird as bread wasn't usually stored in fridges,) and you place them inside the toaster. You had a few minutes until Aemond woke up, as he couldn't sleep without you.

The fridge opens again and out comes a jar of butter that he made from scratch. The toaster beeps — and a pair of toasted bread came out. You groan, the beeping could wake him up. And that man deserved all the rest that he could get.

And just like you predicted, he was already up — scratching his eye lazily and walking in your direction. "Why are you up so early, babe?" he asks while pressing a soft kiss on your cheek. He took a bite of the toast you made, slathering a spoonful of nutella. "I couldn't sleep again," you replied while taking a bite of your own toast.

There were battalions of reasons as to why you couldn't sleep. It could be the fact that those 'nightmares' seem too realistic to become nightmares, or that the man named 'Daemon' with purple eyes couldn't be erased from your mind. You couldn't remember his face, but those purple eyes have engraved themselves into your soul.

It was fucking real. You could still feel the fog of Gods Eye, and the heat of that dragon, Caraxes. There was another man there too, he was a dragon-rider, but you couldn't remember his name. Only the fact that he was an enemy.

"I think you should go to therapy." he advised while playing with the strands of your hair. He found great comfort in your hair — according to him, he used to have much longer hair until his abusive father forced him to cut all of it off once he turned nine. "The nightmares have been gone for a while, babe. I think it just came back 'cuz we moved into a new city." you reason, trying to get away from therapy.

In all truths, you didn't have money for it. It was too expensive for a normal day citizen. You couldn't ask your boyfriend for any more money, he hated taking money out of his trust-fund. "If it continues even after we've settled, I think it's worth going to therapy for." he added while finishing his toast.

You chuckle softly, taking a sip of your hot water. "I won't have time once I've started teaching those high-school kids." you laugh, reminiscing the days of your childhood. They were all blurs to be honest. "I don't think you'll be able to do much teaching, they're all sycophants." he rolls his eye.

"Sycophant, that's a big word." you frown while wiping the counter clear of the crumbs from your toast. He's been acting weird for a while. Sometimes he doesn't even seem like the same person. "I learnt it from wikipedia," he pipes while pushing you away from the sink. "By the way, I'm washing the dishes." he dominates while taking up all the space.

It makes you smile, thinking about how lucky you are to have him.

"Get ready for school — look scary, and make sure that those kids hate to love you." he reminds, and you press a kiss to his temple. "You want me to become a terror teacher?" you giggle, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "A hot one," he chuckles closing his fist and opening it into your face — splashing you with water.

"Mkay," you mumble, taking a step away from him. You began to walk to your room, already having an outfit in mind for school. "But remember to pick me up. I'm not familiar with the streets yet." you remind and he nods his head.

"I won't forget it, love." he promised, seeing you retreat inside the room.

———

The school was a few minutes away from your apartment. Ten to twenty minutes, depending on whether or not you use the public transport. Aemond was driving you today, which meant that you were going to be a little early to class. Better early than late.

He stops in front of the junior high-school building. "I'll pick you up later, pumpkin." he lowers the window, you lean a little closer to peck his lips. "I'll be out at six," you remind and he nods his head. "I'll try to get out of work early, but if I can't then Aegon can pick you up." he briefed while slowly driving away.

You wave goodbye, seeing the red car disappear from view. You turn around to face the large building, feeling nervousness creep inside your soul. You open your small android phone, already feeling eyes stare at you. Highschool students were crazy, but not crazy enough to send you running.

You stare at the email. You are the advisor of St. Maria Goretti, the patron saint of purity, young women and assault (at least according to google.) You begin to walk in the large halls of the building, searching for the 10th grade, and finally finding your assigned classroom.

You lower a big box on your desk, it was filled with binders and free notebooks — you weren't sure if the students were going to use it. It was a catholic private school, all of them were loaded.

A woman clears her throat from the other side of the room. Your eyes trail down from the floor, to her shoes and finally to her face. Pale blonde hair, and a familiar pair of purple eyes. "Hey, you must be the new teacher. I'm uhh — Ma'am Rhae, I'm actually the coordinator for english — and this grade level." she walks towards you in a warm manner.

"I'm (Your Name), I teach science." you smiled offering your hand to shake, but to her surprise — she begins to welcome you into a deep hug. She smelled like peony and suede, a wonderful combination — but typical for an english teacher. "Really? What college did you go to?" she inquired with renewed interest.

"I'm sure that you haven't heard of it, I'm kind of a country bumpkin." you chuckled while giving her a modest smile. It's nice to have a friend around here.

———

Rhaenyra excuses herself, exiting your room and running towards the nearest lavatory. There she fiddles with her pockets to find her phone. She dials the familiar sequence of numbers. 'Uncle Daemon 👹' the nickname read out, and it took a few rings for him to answer.

"Uncle," she called out in a panicked tone, she turns the faucet on so that other people may not listen in to the call. "Hey, what's up?" her uncle responded in a casual tone, there was grogginess to his voice — which meant that he had just woken up. "(Your Name) is here, and she doesn't remember anything." she breathed out in panic.

She could hear him curse from the other side of the call. Then suddenly, the call is dropped.

chapter two>>

AN: Comment to get tagged.

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locallysourcedshuggy · 10 months

Text

On the day she turned six, Beatrice finally understood why most adults never really celebrated their birthdays.

She knew her parents were trying to accomplish titles in the government. To be honest, she didn't know what those words truly meant at 6, but she had the general idea.

That morning, her parents told her they were leaving for a business trip. Almira, their maid, would look after her for that week. Normally, Beatrice wouldn't bat an eye to the news. Today, however, was different.

Her parents never wished her a happy birthday.

Once they had closed the door behind them, and their driver disappeared down the road towards the airport, Almira let out a sigh. Beatrice couldn't tell what kind of sigh it was. She was able to categorize her parents' sighs now, yet this one was different.

She turned away from the window, noticing Almira was wearing a heavy expression.

“I told them it was your birthday when they woke up,” She admitted.

Almira wanted to say more. So, So much more. It was heartbreaking, to see a child so young lose their magical imagination on their birthday.

Beatrice didn't say anything, and Almira figured so. Beatrice was always a quiet child, and Almira was reminded how different she was from her own children. They were probably up by now, bothering their boulder of a father for some more pancakes.

Cake, right.

“Come, Beatrice,” She beckoned the child, starting her way to the kitchen. “Now that your parents are gone, they can't chastise you for eating cake for breakfast.”

Beatrice, ever the obedient daughter she was, gasped at the concept.

Almira let out a laugh that stemmed from her belly.

“Oh, please, little one. It's your 6th birthday. Surely we have time for cake,” She grabbed it from the fridge, watching as Beatrice looked at the intricate design.

Almira felt something akin to amazement when Beatrice gazed with so much wonder and surprise. She noticed that the girl still hadn't moved from her place on the chair.

“I spent hours last night making this for you, it would be agonizing if you did not take the first bite,” Almira reasoned, grabbing a fork from the utensil drawer.

Beatrice finally understood. Almira had time to bake Beatrice a cake, though she didn't have to. Her parents had known it was her birthday, and were even reminded, yet time was of the essence for them to get to the airport.

People didn't celebrate their birthdays due to the fact that they had no time. Staring at the fork in Almira's hand, she decided to relent. She would make time for her own birthday today, but only for a little while.

12.

It was her 12th birthday. By now, Beatrice was dreadfully aware of the fact that birthdays were no longer fun. It was no one's fault, really (unless you count her parent forgetting at age 6, then making her birthday a PR stunt for their own benefit). She had been going to these galas since her 8th birthday, and she always dreaded it.

Of course, Beatrice would stuff her own anxiety down. She had the conversation once before with her parents. How their family needed to be presentable. This was the first year since they gained their diplomacy, and Beatrice was not going to be the reason they looked unprofessional.

The sad fact was- this birthday gala couldn't even be considered for Beatrice. No one her age came anyway, and so she was left to sit at the table while the adults talked politics.

"Oh well, we can just ban them from adopting," Her father spoke to one of his superiors.

Though this was considered a work gala, the two men appeared to be friendly while talking.

His superior (John or James, Beatrice could never remember), nodded along. "Our opponents are saying that some of those lesbians are able to concieve their own child through so called science. I think it's a load of bullshit if you ask me," Beatrice flinched at lesbians. John-James said it like it was poison in his tongue that he needed to spit out.

"A child concieved through science is not a real human child if you ask me," Her father snorted, and his boss laughed along.

Beatrice tuned out their conversation, directing her gaze to the hallway. She could portentially sneak out and go to her room. Her parents were so engrossed with whatever hatred they were spitting, they wouldn't notice her.

That's exactly what she did. Beatrice was able to slip through the crowd, and enter the long hallway that would lead to her room.

A woman came out of the guest bathroom, nearly running into the birthday girl.

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry!" She exclaimed, leaning down to Beatrice's eye level. "I didn't know they let children in here as well. I could've brought my wife's little sister," She thought.

Beatrice halted her movements. Wife? She decided she would come back to that later.

"Oh, I live here." Beatrice deadpanned, and the stranger widened her gaze.

"Oh. You must be Bernard and Lucille's daughter."

Beatrice nodded.

"What are doing out here then, shouldn't you be with them, weaseling your way into fascist politics?” The woman asked, a hint of malice dripping into her tone at the last words.

Beatrice didn't know what fascism meant. In the commercials, her parents often called themselves 'the right choice'. The girl cradled that word close to her, almost like the woman was trusting her with it.

“I got bored,” Beatrice answered truthfully, looking towards her room once again.

The woman noticed her movement. “Honestly, I can't blame you. I'm not even a friend of your father's,” She shrugged. “Just a receptionist who works for his rivals.”

She started to walk back into the crowd, but turned on her heel. “Happy birthday, Beatrice, was it?”

Beatrice simply nodded. The woman disappeared into the throng of older candidates and... fascists. To Beatrice, the woman reminded her of Almira. She still didn't know why her parents fired the woman, she was so nice.

On her 18th birthday, Beatrice forgot about it. She forgot about her birthday, until she returned to her dorm to find it decorated by her roommate. A banner hung from the ceiling, spelling out 'Happy Birthday!' in rainbow colors.

“I apologize for the lack of decoration, you would think it would be easy to find a Swiss Dollar-Tree, but apparently not,” Tracy smiled brightly.

Beatrice was still standing in the doorway.

“Oh, I must've forgotten,” Beatrice said after a few minutes, walking in fully and setting her textbooks on her desk.

Tracy dropped her jaw, her eyes widening in shock. “Oh please tell me you did not forget your own birthday?!”

Beatrice shrugged in response, then decided to defend herself, for whatever reason, “Well, I do leave Friday for the convent, so,”

“Yeah, but your birthday is your birthday! We need to celebrate! You, me, Ginny, even Sandy!”

As Tracy went on and on, Beatrice thought back to her meeting with Mother Superion from the convent in Madrid. She had never met a woman so... bouldering.. before. It's like the older woman could see past Beatrice's wall that she spent 17- no, 18- years building up. This time, though, it wasn't haunting. It was comforting.

“-and then Emma could try to sneak the speaker from Sister Chartine, but we all know that old crow has the nose of a bloodhound-” Beatrice tuned into part of Tracy's explanation, and felt a long exhale of dread escape her.

Friday could not come sooner.

She wasn't a rookie anymore. It was her first OCS mission where she could actually participate, and not watch from the sidelines with a med kit on her lap.

“Bea, duck!” Shannon called, already releasing the knife she was throwing.

Beatrice ducked without hesitation. The knife pierced the enemy behind her, his throat now similar to a paint can with a puncture hole. The blood leaked from his jugular like water, and Beatrice couldn't look away. It was hypnotic, watching the life disappear so fast in a person's eyes.

“Beatrice!” Someone yells at her, but she can't tear her eyes away from the body. Sound is muffled now, and it takes her a second too late to register the voice. From the roughness around the of her name, and the thickness in the tone, it sounds like Mary.

Beatrice turns too late, her abdomen now a holder for a dagger. The thrower in question has just now crumpled at her feet. She stares at his head- or, where his head is supposed to be. Beatrice isn't sure now, the brain matter has messed up her perception of human anatomy. Is it supposed to be splattered on the ground like that?

“Beatrice!” Another yell, this one sounding far to similar to her father. She looks up, and his eyes are glinting at her from across the room.

He stands in the open doorway, speechless as the girl under her turns her head.

The man swallows, calls his wife to the room. Beatrice doesn't move. Only when her lab partner wiggles out from her spot below does her mother lock eyes with her daughter.

Beatrice's mouth is dry. Her stomach hurts. She wants to say something. She's going to, but her mother stops her.

Her mother starts praying. Beatrice's vision blurs, and her mother morphs into Camila.

Camila, who is gripping one hand and applying pressure to her stomach with the other.

It was Camila who was praying, not her mother.

Camila notices the wounded soldier shift, and she whips her head down to look at her.

“Beatrice! We lost you for a second. I was so worried,” Almost as if she senses Beatrice's confusion, Camila continues, “We're in the van. Shannon's driving, don't worry, Mary started going insane with her wretched gun.”

Beatrice winces. Oh, that's why her stomach hurts. Not because her parents walked in on her with a girl, but because there is a hole six inches deep where the blade had pierced her.

Camila continues to go on and on about Mary and her godforsaken gun, but Beatrice doesn't care. Camila doesn't understand, she wasn't on the mission. She's the newbie, like Beatrice once was- forced to sit in the van with the medkit. When Camila starts ranting about which suture is best, Beatrice lets herself pass out, if only for the sake of her own sanity.

——————

When Beatrice comes to once more, she is unsure where she is. He head is aching, and her stomach feels tight. Her consciousness is barely there, and when her eyes open she swears her mother is waiting at her bedside. Panic surges through her, the heart monitor speeding up.

“Bea,” Someone calls. It sounds like her father. She doesn't want to see him, she is too ashamed.

“Bea, you need to breathe!” A voice breaks through her haze. This time, it's Shannon. She is touching her shoulder. When did she get out of her battle uniform? Beatrice looks down to her own body. Why does she not have her battle gear on? How long has she been out?

“It's alright,” Shannon says to calm her.

A door opens, Beatrice whips her head around to face the newcomer.

“Just me,” Mary says, holding a glass of water.

Shannon stands, leaving the room. When she passes by Mary, she rests her arm on Mary's shoulder. Mary grips Shannon's hand, and offers her a warm smile. Beatrice watches the interaction, her chest constricting on itself. She looks away, feeling like she intruded on their own silent conversation.

“Beatrice,” Mary calls to her, and Bea reluctantly turns her head back. “You scared the hell out of us.”

She doesn't know what to say. She settles for an apology. “I'm sorry.”

Mary stares at her for a long time, her eyes scanning her face. Beatrice hates that. Mary is trying to dissect her, and its working. Beatrice looks away, Mary is too good at what she does.

The older woman sighs, sits down where Shannon was, and places the glass of water on the bedside table.

Beatrice stares at the IV in her arm. She wants it out. She hates feeling useless.

“One hell of a birthday mission, huh?” Mary tries again, and this time Beatrice looks back up in confusion.

“How did you-” Beatrice is cut off mid sentence.

“Mother Superion shared some of your file with Shannon. Which she shared with me.” Mary answers, her eyes softening.

Beatrice is frozen in fear. How much did Mary know? How much did Shannon know? Do they both know she is a deviant who was thrown out from her only home. Does Mother Superion know?

The thoughts make her panic, the heart rate monitor speeding up.

“Bea, hey,” Mary raises her hands to Beatrice's left arm, trying to calm her.

“I will tell you what I know, okay?” Mary doesn't break eye contact, and Beatrice hates how much Mary knows her already.

Once the monitor goes back to normal after a few rounds of Beatrice's box breathing, Mary settles back into her chair.

Mary sighs again, this time she's the first one to look away.

“I know you were sought out,” Mary starts.

“Because of the boarding school in Switzerland. Shannon told me how you were a model student,” Mary smiles, giving Beatrice some mercy.

“I also know,” Mary leans forward, clasping her hands together and finally looking at Beatrice, “that you were kicked out. Shannon told me.”

Beatrice started to panic, but Mary was quick to continue.

“She didn't tell me why,” Mary continued to stare at her, and Beatrice was starting to feel the familiar effects of suffocation. Like when she came back home that day to find a suitcase already packed on her bed, with a note that stated the date she would be starting at her new school.

“But, Beatrice, you have to know that no one told me. I figured it out shortly after,” Mary rubbed her eyes. “What your parents did. Why they did it.”

Beatrice shook her head. She needed to save herself. Tell Mary it wasn't true. Tell her that she is not like that.

“I know, kiddo. And I need you to understand that it doesn't change how worried me and Shannon were for you on that mission.”

Beatrice held her breath.

“When you went down, and Shannon screamed, it felt like I was going down with you. In the van, Shannon kept trembling and I couldn't do anything because I was terrified shitless too- don't tell Shannon I said that,” They both let out a watery chuckle, Beatrice's more like a sigh from not breathing.

Mary continued. “Shannon and I are... close,” She reached out to touch Beatrice's arm. “Like what your parents threw you out for.”

Beatrice let out a small noise, a mix between a gasp and a sob. Mary tightened her grip.

“Mother Superion doesn't know. Only Shannon and I. And kiddo, we both love you so much, don't ever think any differently, okay?” Mary drew closer, and Beatrice surged forward to hug her.

Mary attempted to wrap her arms around the young girl, but Beatrice stiffened due to the still sensitive stitches.

Mary pulled back, her watery eyes matching Beatrice's.

“Okay,” Mary cleared her throat. “I told Shannon to get us each a slice of cake from the market down the road. She'll come back and we'll celebrate in a calm and stress free way with you not pulling any stitches, huh?” Mary suggested.

Beatrice nodded, finally having the strength to talk. “Yes. I... I would like that.”

Mary smiled in response, grabbing her phone from her pocket. As she was about to text Shannon, Beatrice spoke once more.

“Can we invite Camila, too? It's only right, after I almost gave her a heart attack in the van.”

Mary laughed and nodded, adding into the text to Shannon for her to bring Camila.

Beatrice smiles. She thought she had a family. Then, she was forced out for simply loving.

Now though, Beatrice thinks she earned a different family here. A permanent one.

25.

The bar was closed, yet two people remained inside. Despite the 'Geschlossen' sign on the door, a bottle of whisky remained open.

Hans was behind the bar, his hands working on wiping down his counter. His eyes have been watching Beatrice for the past minute. She was on the other side of the bar, sitting on one of the more rickety stools, and staring at the full glass in front of her. She hadn't taken a drink since Hans poured it for her- that was fifteen minutes ago.

Hans wondered in that moment what really happened with Ava. He had seen something on the news, but he had only caught a glimpse of it during an insanely busy happy hour rush. Later in his shift, he had heard a customer talking about the Pope's death. Hans wasn't a religious man by any means, so he had simply ignored it.

Now though, he watched as Beatrice was cracking at the seams. Ever since she came back a year ago, he watched as she slowly broke. Of course, her boss title was stripped from her when she left the first time, so she was reduced to simply bartending. Hans was sure she would rise up the rinks to boss again- their sales weren't exactly booming right now. They could use a better manager once more, Beatrice always knew which drinks to upsell, and how many sales they needed each week.

Beatrice was good like that. She was good because she had Ava. Now, Beatrice hardly talks to the customer, only doing so when asking which drink they want.

Hans frowned as the woman in question kept staring at the glass. He doesn't think she's even had a drop of alcohol since that night Ava convinced her to try lemon drops.

Instead of letting it sit and simmer, Hans slides over to face Beatrice.

He looks at the glass, then grabs the bottle of whisky and the cap to close it. Before he gets the cap on, though, a hand reaches to grab at his forearm.

“Don't.” Beatrice says simply.

“You haven't even taken a sip,” Hans reasons, yet he sets the opened bottle back down.

“I'm working up the courage,” Beatrice shrugs.

A silence falls between them. Hans wants to ask, but frankly he is quite intimidated by Beatrice. He would've asked her if Ava was in the next stool over. Yet, she isn't.

“I'm 25 today.” Beatrice states, and her voice cuts through Hans' thoughts of Ava like a newly sharpened knife.

“Oh? Happy Birthday! Have you celebrated?” Hans smiles, hoping to make small talk.

Beatrice shakes her head. Her gaze has never left the brown tint of the whisky.

Hans decides he needs to just go for it in order to get answers. “Ava would definitely have something planned. She would probably rope me into it too, if she were here.”

Something inexplicable happens then. Beatrice's face twists, and Hans worries that she might be having a stroke.

Then, the girl starts to cry. Tears soon follow her quiet sobs, and Hans is rendered speechless.

“I'm sorry, I really didn't think I would make you-” He he cut off by a whimpering Beatrice.

“You're right! She would've planned something, would've decorated the flat even. She probably would've bought me a cake too!” Hans remains silent as Beatrice continues, thinking it is for the best if she gets it out. “And I haven't had a birthday cake in so long! She would've asked for my favourite flavor, and maybe my favourite colour- she knows that already actually,” Beatrice pauses.

“Knew. She knew my favourite colour.” Beatrice grabs the glass, but she doesn't lift it. “She would probably crash my shift at the bar,” She lets out a watery laugh, and Hans chuckles with her. “She would've made the whole bar get roped into singing happy birthday to me.”

Beatrice lets out a wet sigh, a tear falling when she blinks. “And yet she wont. Because she's not here. But she would be. She would be here, if the world wasn't so set on making her fight for everything.”

Hans starts to feel his own eyes water.

“She would be here, but she can't. And I let her go,” Beatrice grips the glass harder, and finally lifts it to her mouth.

Hans watches in shock as she downs the glass without a flinch. Beatrice reaches for the bottle, and pours herself another.

“And Mary. Mary would sing with Ava. Yasmine would join in purely because she likes the song. Lilith would glare at all three of them, but she would probably end up getting pulled in by Ava. Camila would bring the cake in, and Shannon would cut everyone a slice before getting one herself,” Beatrice gasps.

Hans has no idea who those people are, but they have to be important to her and Ava, wherever she is now.

Beatrice continues, Hans reaches for her hand. Beatrice lets him.

“I miss them so much. Shannon didn't stand a chance, and I was so sad for Mary when it happened. I was even sadder when she went. Sometimes I wished they were my real biological parents because they actually accepted me for my sexuality,” Hans blinks, a tear falls. “And Lilith. She and I were the most alike, and then she went to Hell and came back as someone different. And although she became our enemy and even tried to hurt Ava, she is still my sister. She is still my sister, just like Camila is. Oh, Camila. I miss her so much, and I left her like Ava left me. And Shannon once told me before she went to look after Camila because she was the youngest. And I said I would. I meant it too, I really did. But then she grew up and I thought it was fine so I left but now I know that it's not Camila that needs me, it's me who needs her because Ava left and I don't even know if she is alive at this point.”

Hans chokes back a sob. So it's that kind of leaving. And here he thought he would shout and yell at Ava for leaving someone like Beatrice if she returned to the bar.

Beatrice lets her tears flow freely now, raising her glass and taking her second gulp.

“I miss all of them so much. And I miss Ava. I miss her so much that it takes up all the feeling in my body, and I can't move. And then I understand what Ava felt like when she was paralyzed. And then my heart hurts more for her because the world treated her like shit,” Hans feels it would be best not to mention the swear right now, “And yet she trusted me. The world didn't give her any reason to trust me. Hell, I even drugged her the first time I saw her! And yet she looked at me so intensely and unraveled my secrets. I came out to her and she handled me with so much care that I started to like myself again because of it. She handled me with so much love that when I finally knew what I wanted to do, it was too late. It was too late and she got hurt and she had to leave,”

Beatrice pushes the bottle away, signaling to Hans that she was done. Hans didn't want to let go of her hand, so he ignored it for now.

“And then I went back into that dark room of disappointment and disgust from my parents. I went back there and I couldn't get out so I left Camila there. I went back there and I'm still there because Ava is gone and she can't use her light to give me a beacon anymore.”

Once Beatrice was done speaking, Hans tightened his hold on her. It took a few minutes of silence from them both, only breaking it to sniffle. Hans had took these minutes to gather his own words, and he opened his mouth to speak.

“I don't want to overstep your boundaries,” He started, and Beatrice looked up at him with so much feeling in her eyes that Hans had to take a breath before continuing.

“What I can say, though, is that Ava loves you,” Beatrice let out a small whimper, another tear falling at his words. “And even if I don't know where she is or what happened, I do know that her love for you will help her find her way back here.”

(In a couple years from now, Ava will spill her gratitude for Hans for his care of Beatrice. He will shrug and say it was no big deal, but Ava will know because of how hard the first few weeks back with Beatrice were. She will still make him a cake, with the help of Camila, and give it to him during one of his shifts. She will still hug him and express her gratitude in the form of 'I'm glad Beatrice had someone as giving as you. I'm glad she had someone to tell her it wasn't her fault, because it never was.' And what Ava really meant was that she was glad someone was there to pick up Beatrice's pieces. Beatrice will rush in, grabbing Ava's hand and apologizing to Hans for the disruption. Hans will shrug and say it was no big deal, then Beatrice would smile and Ava would smile at Beatrice's smile. And then the two of them would make their way to the bar's exit, Beatrice talking about how they will be late to meeting Camila's boyfriend. Ava will nod and wrap her arm around Beatrice's middle, and Beatrice would raise her own arm to wrap around her partner. And Hans would smile at the two of them, and then tell the newbie to get back to work and stop oogling the two, while he goes over inventory at Halo, his bar that has been non stop bustling since his grand opening last week.)

Beatrice looks at Hans then. She sighs, sitting back and out of Hans' reach to wipe her eyes.

“You,” She starts, looking back at him with red eyes. “Are a good bartender. You should open your own bar someday.”

Hans shrugs, a smile forming on both of their faces.

“Only if you are my manager and Ava the bartender.”

Beatrice's smile grows.

“Say, lets have a little birthday party tomorrow.”

Beatrice shakes her head and opens her mouth to argue, but Hans beats her to it.

“It'll be just us. And though I can't bake, I will gladly buy you a cake and we can share.” He reasons, yet Beatrice still looks unsure.

Hans decides to push her more, “C'mon, you know Ava would want you to celebrate. We can even cut a slice for her.”

That is what gets Beatrice to give a tiny nod, and for Hans to smile victoriously and grab the bottle to get fill his own glass.

#warrior nun #ava silva #sister beatrice #avatrice #lgbtq #sister camila #save warrior nun #mother superion #sister lilith #sister shannon #shotgun mary #sister yasmine #hurt!bea agenda #birthdays suck yanno #this kinda called me out but im ignoring it lolz #i wish mary and shannon would adopt me fr

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wittyminds · 8 months

Text

Show Me the Way Home

Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Anonymous:

Hey I’ve just seen you’re requests are open, could you write something angst and then fluff with Bradley, maybe they’ve both been snapping at each other and then they make up? Xx

CW: Angst, fluff, endangerment of life (idk)

A/N:

This is my first ever fic so please be nice :)

I've never written angst before so it was a gamble as to how this would go. So... enjoy?

It wasn't supposed to go like this.

Of course, everyone knew accidents could happen in the air but they're never expected. Especially this one.

But being surrounded by a dozen of very experienced pilots it was hard to remember about the dangers of flying and how one small mistake could take someone away from you.

Rooster had been watching your progress through the course with unwavering attention, staring in awe as you shot through the entire thing flawlessly. You were the best pilot here by far but even the strongest have to fall every now and then.

Literally.

He knew that placing Hangman with you had been a mistake as the two of you had been at each other's throats for years. A "friendly competition" back in their first ever course had led to a not so friendly rivalry that everyone knew about. Which made the situation even worse. When two competitive pilots are in the air it's all bound for disaster.

Maverick had set them all the task of shooting down two target planes, each earning them 'kill' points. Hangman had been determined to beat you but you were confident that both those points were yours. It was meant to be a team building task but the two of you were against even wishing the other good luck.

There had been one target left, leaving the two of you whizzing around, determined to leave the other in the dirt. You had taken the other one down moments before Hangman would have, resulting in a rather amusing string of expletives from him.

You had been chasing the final target, Hangman gaining speed on you when it happened.

"Hangman, Wraith, this is a team task! I don't want to remind you again!" Marverick's voice rang through the intercom but you didn't listen. You were so close, your target slowly circling the aircraft in front of you.

Rooster realised he had been holding his breath as you strained to close in on your target. The table groaned as he clenched his fist round the feeble wood, the surrounding pilots exchanging knowing glances.

"Just a little further." Your voice muttered through the intercom.

Hangman, who had been quiet for too long, suddenly sprung up in front of you, sending your concentration haywire. Was it too much to ask for a clean shot?

"What the hell, Hangman?" You gritted your teeth in frustration, slowing down so you didn't collide with his rear, "I nearly had him!"

Hangman only smirked, you could feel it through the intercom.

"And let you get all the kill points? I don't think so."

The target plane swerved to try take you off its tail but you both followed it, only slightly unnerved by the sudden change of direction. You could hear Hangman muttering as he tried to get a clean shot which seemed impossible at the new angle.

"This is bullshit." He muttered, suddenly pulling up to get a different angle.

His sudden manoeuvre had left you to fly straight through his jet wash with no warning.

Your plane broke into an uncontrollable spin, everything around you blurry and dizzying. A series of panicked yells escaped you as you spun and Rooster shot out of his seat, ice cold dread drenching his entire body. The room stilled to a deafening silence as you tried to eject from the aircraft.

"Wraith! Can you hear me? Wraith!" Maverick yelled but you were too panicked to answer, still trying to locate the ejection handle.

Rooster couldn't watch, your plane getting closer and closer to the ground with no sign of slowing. The thought of what would happen if it hit the rocks below with you inside-

His feet carried himself out before he could register it, the door swinging shut behind him as he marched out the building and to the safety of his truck.

There, everything would be fine.

You and Rooster had been catching feelings over the past months, each glance lasting longer, each graze of the hand full of electricity. There were moments when you would both lean in instinctively after quiet moments together only to realise how close you were before pulling away.

So, it stung when you stepped out of the emergency aircraft, dizzy and half conscious, to not find Rooster waiting. Your heart had dropped at the sight and you stumbled through the doors into the building with only the dream of his arms there to hold you.

After numerous questions and glasses of water, you were given a lift home from Phoenix. She had become the equivalent of your sister but even she didn't want to prod the wound of Rooster's disappearance with questions. You stepped out of her car with a tired farewell, to be greeted by the comforting sight of your home.

Inside there was ice cream, chocolate and far too many rom-coms to keep you distracted.

After a warm shower that would definitely raise her bill a ridiculous amount, you climbed down the stairs in your favourite sweater, a pair of slippers keeping your feet warm from the sudden change in temperature.

The weather had gone from clear to sour in a matter of hours, much like your mood.

How could he leave in a moment like that? When you weren't even sure if you would make it out?

Your thoughts were broken by a frantic knock at the door, the sound clashing with the thundering rain outside. You paused the film, halting Julia Roberts moments away from kissing Richard Gere.

You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders, shuffling the short distance to the door to notice a large shadow huddled under the small overhang above your door. You didn't need to guess who it was for a second as you swung it open to reveal a dripping wet Rooster, holding his jacket over his head.

A thousand thoughts erupted in your head and your nostrils flared.

"Oh, so you do remember me?"

An expression of pain flashed over his face but it was gone in a blurry second.

"Can I please come in?" His voice was pleading and you opened the door wider so he could shelter from the furious pelts of water.

As you shut the door again, he lowered his jacket from above his head to fold in his arms. He ran a hand through his soaking hair, the movement sending a slight jolt through you.

"I just want to say, I feel so shitty for leaving, Y/n. I really do." As he rambled on, you got a proper look at him, not listening as he continued to speak.

His eyes were wide, giving the impression of a puppy being told off for the first time and as you studied him, you noticed his knuckles were stained a slight red.

"What happened to your hand?" You interrupted him quietly and he froze.

You crossed your arms and frowned at him, waiting for a response.

His eyes fell from yours and he rocked back on his heels nervously.

"I punched...." His voice trailed off into a mumble and you strained to hear him.

"I swear to God, Rooster, tell me." Your voice rose and he sighed loudly through his nose.

"I punched Hangman!"

The words rang through the air and your arms fell from their knot. Anger flared in your chest and he rose his head to meet your eyes once more.

"You... what?" You spoke slowly and carefully, taking a step toward him.

"I punched him, alright? He was careless and could have killed you!" Rooster's voice rose and all signs of being nervous disappeared.

"No, not alright! It's not your duty to stand up for me! You clearly didn't feel the need to be there when I got back!" Tears stung your eyes at what he had done but you blinked them back.

"I had to leave! I couldn't stay in that room!"

Anger clouded all your judgement, all you wanted was for him to explain why not punch the guy who had accidentally sent your aircraft spinning. Why did everything have to be so difficult for the two of you? Why couldn't you just settle the stupid argument and get back to Julia Roberts?

You scoffed at him, "Right, because watching the plane go down was so much worse than being inside. What was so awful about the accident that you had to leave? Why cant you just let it go?"

"Because that's exactly how my dad died!"

Every retort building up in her faded with his words. He had never openly spoken about how his dad died except that he had been in a flying accident.

How could he not have told you this in your many deep conversations? Surely it should have come up at 3am with a bottle of vodka clouding your judgements. Maybe it was just one of those things that was meant to be forgotten in the soft, tender moments.

"How was I supposed to know that?" You finally uttered, too shocked to consider how he felt.

"You didn't, I know. But it scared me that you were up there in exactly the same position he was in before it happened." You could see his eyes swimming with tears, only he didn't blink them away.

"Then I don't understand how you're mad at me! It wasn't my fault!" Your voice suddenly went higher than normal and you fought to keep your emotions under control.

"I'm not mad at you!" His hands flew up to his hair and his jacket landed on the floor with a dull thud, "I was just terrified because the person I love most in this god damn world could have died and there was nothing I could do about it!"

You waited for his words to sink in and finally let tears roll down your cheeks.

"Y-you love me?" You whispered, all memories of anger flitting from your mind.

He closed his eyes for a moment, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes. You waited for a reply but he only muttered a series of incoherent words before picking up his jacket and shuffling past you to open the door.

Thunder rumbled angrily as he stepped back into the rain, drowning out any words said. You were too shocked to move or go after him. His words kept playing over and over in your hand, a broken record of what you had been hoping for for weeks. But all he said as he slammed the door behind him was a simple, "I'm sorry."

And then once again, he was gone.

As the door slammed, you flinched at the noise and watched his figure storm back to his truck. Rain battered her windows and you ran a hand through your hair in frustration.

You don't know what came over you, probably the countless romance films and books you had indulged in, but you found yourself wrenching the door open and running into the freezing cold rain. Your sweater was drenched in seconds and you squinted through blinding droplets as you sprinted towards Rooster.

He had just about made it to his car but you could catch him. Thunder drowned out your footsteps and when you tried to call his name, the wind howled over you.

Finally, you reached him and breathed out one last call of his name.

He turned round to see you, eyes sad and shoulders heavy.

"Y/n, I'm so sorr-"

But when you reached him you didn't even think before pulling the front of his shirt to lower his lips to yours. In one smooth movement you kissed him breathlessly, his hands flying to support your waist and hip. He didn't kiss back but just as you pulled away, his grip on you tightened, keeping you in place. Your heels lifted from the grass as he moved into him, bringing him closer.

This is what it should have always been. The two of you. Safe in each other's arms.

Just like the movies.

One of his hands moved up to your hair, cupping your head gently as his lips moved in an easy rhythm against yours. Rain ran down your faces, thunder sounding as you blocked out the rest of the world.

All that mattered was the two of you in this moment.

You both pulled back for air, resting your foreheads against the other's as you panted. A relieved laugh escaped you and you pressed another quick kiss against his lips. Your arms had snaked round his neck and you stood staring at the man before you, still processing what you had done.

"Rooster?"

You were too breathless to speak properly and he hummed quietly, nudging your nose with his.

"Take me to bed now, or lose me forever."

Your smiled as he kissed you deeply again, suddenly lifting you up to wrap your legs round his waist. Another laugh escaped you at his goofy grin but he cut you off with a kiss.

"Show me the way home, Y/n."

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captainsimagines · 1 year

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pretty woman, this is me trying || one

Summary: Bucky Barnes does not like to be touched. He’s completely ready to live a distant life and give up when the time is right. Until Stark hires him his own personal pretty woman. Over time, Bucky Barnes begins to learn how to touch again. How to feel again. How to love himself again.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female SexWorker!Reader

Trope(s): Holiday Fanfic ; Slow-Burn ; Friends to Lovers

Based on the Song(s): sweet nothing by Taylor Swift and Iris by The Goo Goo Dolls

(1/14)

Mini-Series / AO3 Link

Warnings: PTSD themes; past sexual abuse (Hydra); strong language; panic attacks; nightmares

Word Count: 2,950+

Author’s Note: A holiday fanfic! You know I couldn’t leave you all hanging! I’m excited for this one. I know it deals with a lot more heavy situations, but I wanted to write something angsty/romantic. PLUS, I wrote this in 3 days so I’m sorry if it’s bad lol

I hope I do you justice. Love you all. xxMoni

Bucky Barnes did not like to be touched.

He did not shake hands, he did not hug, he did not do well with even the slightest brush of someone’s body. The faintest of touches froze him. Paralyzed in the faint sensation. Memories of harsh hands and machines, demented laughter and sedated foreplay, echoed through his mind.

The only person he allowed to touch him when necessary was Steve, and even then Bucky had to remind himself that it was his best friend. The size of Steve’s body was not a danger. The command of his voice was for safety only, and not to order him to strip. The friendly claps on the back were meant to ease Bucky into the world, not to bend him over from behind.

Sometimes he believed he was getting better. Mornings were beautiful, food tasted great, and everyone greeted him with a smile. On those special days, Bucky's heart filled with hope. Hope he could sit in close proximity to someone else, hope he could travel outside the compound and not rely on his super soldier skills, hope he could get out of his head for one second.

But when someone entered a room too loudly, or when he was forced to physically fight an enemy—those special days crumbled to ash, now cruel illusions that sent Bucky on a downward spiral. A spiral Steve usually had to coax him out of with gentle words, words that scarily resembled begging.

So Bucky has given up on trying to fit in. On trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel. On trying to feel human again.

And fuck all that bullshit about being human was to feel pain.

Pain was not a good emotion, and it was mean to give it relevance to the human condition.

It wasn’t an emotion every human had to suffer in order to be considered living. It was an emotion that was cruel and unforgiving and completely, completely exhausting.

If Bucky Barnes had to live his life without touch again, then so be it. If he had to step out of a room to calm his nerves with the repetition of his tapping fingers, then so be it. He did not want to feel trapped, or abused, or ridiculed ever again. He did not believe in soft touches or love making anymore.

First, the war stole his boyhood.

Then the Swiss Alps stole his life.

And Hydra stole his dignity.

His time with Hydra had been documented to horrible extremes. Extremes Bucky was certain were going to be plastered on media outlets and history books. But he had discovered one night, while on a solo-mission to the compound’s lounge, that those theories were unlikely.

Because he had found Tony Stark and Natalia Romanov scouring every database and paper trail about his torture… and completely destroying it. With help from Jarvis, Bucky’s recorded nightmares were erased. Washed out. Encrypted, set on fire, and utterly gone.

Neither Tony or Natalia ever spoke to him of it. He assumed Stark was simply avoiding an awkward conversation, and that he didn’t exactly do good with such rough topics. Natalia did write down the number of her therapist for him.

He threw the piece of paper away.

And on nights like these, he really wished he hadn’t.

Bucky curled up in his thin bedsheets and clutched them close, willing his body to stop sweating. He tried to touch his knees to his chest but he was too large. If he could feel pressure there, then he could fall asleep. If there was added pressure to his back, then the sleep would be immaculate.

He turned and piled the pillows high, setting them behind his back. The coldness of the cotton seeped into his skin, instantly relaxing him. He clutched a throw pillow to his chest and pressed it down, counting by even numbers.

Pressure, a sequence, and breathing.

He could tell by the bright white light shining through his curtains that it was still night. No light that bright could be anything but the moon. That was a reassuring constant for him.

“Shall I ring for Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes?” Jarvis whispered over the speakers in Bucky’s room.

Jarvis’s random voice didn’t scare Bucky anymore. At first, it had caused Bucky to spring into a full blown panic attack. But as time went on and Jarvis continued to speak with him randomly, at odd times, Bucky’s body got used to it. Expected it.

“No, Jarvis. I’m good.”

Jarvis hummed, pausing a little before saying, “Let me know if you need anything.”

Bucky didn’t respond. He never took Jarvis up on that offer anyway.

He curled further into his mound of sheets and pillows and shut his eyes, forcing himself into a dreamless sleep.

He succeeded in sleeping, but relived memories twice over in the dark.

“Twenty bucks says you don’t ask her,” Steve declared, pulling his wallet from his coat.

Wanda giggled from behind the kitchen counter, pouring coffee into her impossibly large mug. Pietro saddled up beside her, stealing the mug for himself.

Sam clicked his tongue. “Bet. I’ll do it today after dinner.”

Steve scoffs, “Fuck off. Another twenty says you won’t have the balls to ask until next week.”

Bucky snickered as he looked between his two friends. He sat with his left leg bent so he could rest his chin on his knee, comfortable enough to be casual this morning. He sipped at his hot chocolate, grateful Wanda gave him one of the festive mugs. It was December 1st, after all.

“After dinner,” Sam promised, slapping his own twenty onto the dining table.

Wanda leaned forward and snatched the money for herself. “I’ll keep this bet safe for the time being.”

“You think she’ll say yes?” Bucky asked, overly curious.

Sam asking Natasha to the annual Avengers Christmas ball? Yeah, right.

Sam puffed out his chest, his smile wide. “I’ll bet more money, Barnes. That’s how confident I am.”

Steve rolled his eyes. He finally picked up his fork and dug into his eggs. With his mouth full, he said, “If you think you know Romanoff, you don’t.”

It was Sam’s turn to roll his eyes. “Like I said, Cap. I’m confident about this.”

“Well, I think that’s a good attitude to have,” Pietro commented, sitting down beside Steve with own full plate of eggs and bacon. “And when it all crashes and fails, we get to be the ones to tell you ‘I told you so!’”

Sam flung a piece of bacon across the table, cursing Pietro’s name.

Bucky watched it all unfold, feeling both inside and outside the circle at once. He was a part of the conversation, but he still felt benched. His body would lurch forward on its own accord and try to join in—maybe to thump Pietro on the back of the head, slap Steve on the back, grab a mug of coffee from Wanda’s delicate hands.

It was funny, really. Being afraid of Wanda’s hands because of his own history and not because of the power she held within them.

He was both included, and not. There, and nowhere. Inside his head but forcing himself to step out of it. Dissociating for too long until the conversation was on another topic entirely.

Jarvis’s voice snapped them from their play fighting. “Sergeant Barnes, Sir has asked me to tell you that he would like your opinion on something.”

Bucky grumbled, drinking from his hot chocolate. “What does he want?”

“Oh, that’s the wonder of standing up and finding out for yourself, isn’t it, Sergeant Barnes?”

Sam howled, nearly choking on his last piece of bacon. “Jarvis really is Stark’s creation. Jesus fucking Christ.”

Bucky sighed, having been left with no choice. He placed his half-drunk mug in the sink and waved goodbye to everyone, trying hard not to stomp to Stark’s lab.

Stark was under a massive machine with six arms and blue lasers when Bucky walked into the lab later that afternoon. He had ignored Jarvis’s constant badgering and decided to visit the lab after his morning run. Only after it Bucky was certain he wouldn’t physically fight Stark if what he had to say was idiotic.

“My one and only!”

Bucky rolled his eyes and sat at the farthest chair from the monster machine. “You called?”

“And you diddle-daddled.”

To this, Bucky actually laughs. Sometimes Stark got on his nerves, other times he was a breath of fresh, realist air.

Stark climbed out from underneath the metal monstrosity, wiping oil from his hands. Bucky waited patiently as Stark finally sat, cracking his neck three times before speaking.

“So… The Christmas Ball.”

“Uh huh.”

Stark adjusted his seating, slowly lowering himself in his rolly-chair. Bucky watched him become shorter, awkwardly staring at him and the walls simultaneously. Whatever Stark wanted to talk to him about, it was becoming less interesting to Bucky.

“Pepper has informed me that there is going to be an auction. A, donate thousands of dollars to take me out on a date, type thing.”

Bucky grimaced. “Isn’t that prostitution?”

“No, it’s escorting. Prostitution is the other honorable profession.”

Bucky hummed.

Stark wiped a stressed hand down his face, curling his lips as he continued speaking. “Pepper has also informed me that only Thor is being auctioned for real. Meaning, everyone else isn't actually on the roster. Their dates are going to be the highest bidder regardless of what anyone bids that night.”

Bucky frowned, stumped. “So, we’re denying money from actual bidders and rigging this thing?”

“No. Private donors have already given their fair share of money. We’ve flown past our goal for the evening.”

“Then why have the Ball in the first place?”

“Appearances, photo ops, meeting new people—You name it.”

So Steve and Sam were going to be “sold” to their highest bidder, who will also happen to be their dates for that evening. That nice coffee shop girl Steve has been dating for the past six months was already invited…

That meant she was bidding whatever amount she needed to, regardless of the price, for a date with Steve. Money that was already donated before the damn Ball even started.

Bucky looked to the white, marble floor for answers. But all he saw was his distorted reflection, staring back at him with creeping realization.

“What… What about me?”

Stark sighed, shrugging his shoulders empathetically. “I tried everything, Barnes. But the higher-ups forced us to include you, too.”

Bucky was going to throw up. That ball of nausea that often stuck to the back of his throat was crawling upward, scratching his tongue, begging to be let free. To spill all over this damned marble floor.

He whimpered silently, turning his face to his metal shoulder. His hair covered his anguished expression, but it was pointless to assume Stark hadn’t noticed. Bucky’s neck was already redder than the original color itself.

“Barnes, listen to me.” Bucky tried to follow the direction of Stark’s voice. When he blinked, his vision seemed to get blurrier. “Breathe. Tap those fingers. You remember you got fingers, right?”

Bucky counted to three, then began to tap his index and thumb together. He relished in the feel of his skin, in the lifted edges of his fingerprints, of his filed fingernails. Slowly, the world stopped spinning. The chair didn’t feel like it was caving in anymore. The walls stopped stretching and his ears stopped ringing.

The remnants of his panic attack settled in his chest, pulsing uncomfortably. But he could finally open his eyes long enough and not feel like passing out.

“Good, good. Now if you would just let me finish.”

Bucky huffed a quiet laugh, easily amused by Stark’s sarcasm. It was a surprise how quickly the two fell into step after Bucky moved into the compound, seeking each other out for random answers and opinions. Steve had questioned it, but accepted that if Bucky was alright with it, he wouldn’t budge.

“I spoke with Pepper. You have two options: Let me find you a date who I promise will not leak anything to the press, touch you without permission, or annoy you until you feel like swallowing a bullet.”

Bucky blinked at him, eyebrows scrunching. Stark getting him a date? Bucky didn’t want to date any of Stark’s past flings or strangers he might pull off the streets. The rational part of his brain understands that this person will be vetted and practically stalked, but it’s the irrational side that’s telling him this person might just hurt him. They could convince the world they’re the most innocent thing ever, but when he’s alone with them that mask could easily fall off and reveal eight tentacles and a flaming skull.

“Or,” Stark enunciates, standing from his incredibly low chair. He blew a fast raspberry before saying, “You and Sam attend together, or you and Natasha.”

Okay, that seemed like the better option. He trusts both Sam and Natalia, trusts them to keep their hands to themselves and protect him. Yeah, that was obviously the better choice—

But Sam wanted to ask Natalia. Sam has been wanting to ask her a million things before the Ball was ever a reality. His friend had all this insane amount of exhilarating excitement when he even thought about the red head.

Bucky couldn’t take that away from him. Even if his own comfort was the victim in this situation.

“This… person. Will they be an escort?”

Stark’s eyes widened momentarily before he steadied himself. “Yes, and maybe no. They’ll be the person I believe can be most trusted. Are you okay with the possibility of taking a hooker to the Ball?”

Bucky grunted, “Don’t use that word.”

“It’s the 21st century, Barnes. Hooker means prostitute, prostitute means sex worker, and sex worker has a positive connotation nowadays.”

“Just say escort.”

Stark grumbled beneath his breath, turning to a nearby computer and typing something into the search bar. “Jarvis, make sure this web search is wiped from the center of the earth after I’m done with it.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tony.” Stark knew that when Bucky used his first name, it was a call to turn around and look him in the eye. So that’s exactly what Stark did. “A sex worker expects sex, don’t they? I’m not giving them that, so how can you expect me to be fine with it?”

Stark tapped his fingers against random keys, deep in thought. “I don’t know how to say this without sounding offensive. Jarvis, help me out. How do I say, ‘You don’t have to fuck the person, you can just pay them,’ kindly?”

“We will be searching for people who have voluntarily enrolled in sex work, Sergeant Barnes. Any meeting you set up with them is consensual. And the beauty of consensual sex work is, without a doubt, the freedom of choice. So think about it like this, Sergeant Barnes: They will not touch you if you do not ask. You are investing time, and they will accept the money without a kiss exchanged if that is what you wanted.”

A companion?

Bucky had only ever had Steve and Sam after he returned to the compound. Only ever hung out with them outside in the real world, too. A random person entering the compound and pretending to be his date seemed a little extreme, no? Like he couldn’t make friends of his own.

But wasn’t that the real reason behind all this? Bucky didn’t have many contacts or love interests to take to this damn Christmas Ball so he was being punished for it. Forced to interact with a stranger and the stranger forced to interact with him.

“I can do a proper search of these websites with Jarvis’s and Hill’s help and get back to you in the morning, okay? Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“I only have to meet them tomorrow and that’s it?”

Stark wobbled a flat hand in the air. “Kind of. Spend one day with them and tell me if you think you can last a whole night with them as your date. I don’t want you to be paired with someone I thought was great but you find repulsive.”

Okay, that was somewhat considerate. But a whole day? At best, Bucky will last a few hours before wanting to run under a hill.

“Okay,” he surrendered.

Stark sighed, “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable, Barnes. It’s just… Maybe it’s not the ideal way, but meeting new people isn’t always a bad thing, you know?”

“Oh?” Bucky replied sarcastically.

“Oh. You think I didn’t suffer the same thing? People I knew since birth betrayed me. I’ve got trust issues too, my man.”

“We’re not comparing sad little tales, Stark.”

“Find it in your ice cold heart to be compassionate, Barnes.”

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “So, tomorrow then?”

Stark nodded. “I’ll do my best to find you a hot piece of ass.”

“Stark!”

“Sorry! I joke. I kid. I jest.”

Bucky watched Stark toy with his experiments for ten minutes more before bidding him a good rest of his day.

Maybe a companion wouldn’t be so bad. He’d have someone to talk to after all. Text, get coffee with, watch movies with. He could do all those things with Steve and Sam but they were busy. Busy with work, busy with life, busy with everything Bucky avoided for good reason.

And even though his body is physically repulsed by the idea of being in close proximity with an absolute stranger, perhaps someone who was forced to be nice to him wasn’t exactly a lousy idea.

Maybe it was necessary.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes fanfic #holiday fanfic #bucky barnes au #pretty woman au #avengers au #marvel fanfiction #mini-series #captainsimagines #by Moni

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