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harrysgoldenline · 3 years

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When In Italy Part 4

here is part 4! Um this chapter has bad words and some adult themes so warning for that! The next part will be the last, so let me know what you think! Are they end game or no? Also! If you want a personalized imagine, check out my pinned post! If you want to support me ---> please click here! every little bit helps bc im a broke ass college student so thank u to anyone who wants to support me :)

All comments and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! :)

WORD COUNT: 2.2K

You stood frozen as he stepped out of the elevator, his eyes soft as he met yours, waking towards you.

“Get away from me.” you whisper, attempting to push past him and get into the elevator, pressing the door closed button before even pressing a floor, not wanting him to get any closer.

“Y/N, wait!” he rushed, sticking his hand between the doors and stopping it, his tall frame standing before you that you quickly push past, going back to lock yourself in your apartment, and lock him out, “Please, let me explai-“

“No!” you stopped, voice firm as you turned to face him, “you can’t keep doing this! you can’t keep showing up like this! So just leave me alone.”

You kept walking, ignoring his pleas as he came after you, successfully unlocking your apartment door rapidly, but you catch a glimpse of rings as he hand stops the door.

“Please.” He whispered, not pushing the door open and you saw a flicker of his eyes and you could almost see the sincerity in them, “I know I don’t deserve it, I really don’t, but I would just love to talk to you for real this time, anything you want to know.”

“and you’re not gonna be an asshole this time?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, peaking at him, “because if you are, I swear to god Styles I will give you 5 seconds to get the fuck out.”

“Promise.” He nodded and your heart believed him, so you opened the door.

You watched as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets, slowly entering your apartment and you didn’t miss how his eyes scanned you quickly, before bouncing around the apartment, looking around the space he used to be so familiar with.

You watched how he headed to the couch about to sit but stutter stepped a bit, scratching the back of his neck and looking at you, almost asking you if it’s okay if he sits down.

You gave him a soft smile and nod, tucking a loose hair behind your ear and sitting on one side of the couch, thankful he sat on the other, giving you each plenty of space as your eyes met. The tension was slowly rising, looking at each other as you sat, wondering who was going to break the silence.

“I never meant for anything to happen.” he whispered, his head falling as a shameful look covered his face, avoiding your eyes, “After the breakup… I- I was just lost. I was messing up at work and I just was doing shit. Then, it was like only like a month ago, I was getting drunk all the time and she just came into my trailer and we were talking and then she kissed me.”

You just nodded, biting your bottom lip and picking at your nails, peaking up and looking at him, your glossy eyes meeting his bloodshot ones, not really having anything to say in response.

“And I just…” he started, “I wanted to feel better, feel anything. So, we just started hanging out more and I just really wanted to feel something, feel a connection. So we took a trip to Italy because… It’s always been a place that made me feel better and then…”

“Yeah.” you chuckled, “and then… Why did you bring her to our house? I know we haven’t talked about that kind of stuff, but it’s mine too Harry and… just seeing you two there? I never felt more replaceable than I did when I saw you two.”

“Oh love, no.” He whispered, scooting closer to you, a hand coming up to cup your face to help your eyes meet, but he retracted it back before he made contact with your skin, “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry and I will never be able to prove to you, but that was never my intention to ever hurt you. The breakup was a mistake.”

“I… How am I supposed to believe that?” you squeaked, voice cracking as the barrier breaks, tears falling on your cheeks as you looked up at him, “We we’re together for years and you just- I mean fuck Harry! I haven’t even thought about even starting to flirt with someone and you’re…”

“We’ve never had sex,” He quietly added cheeks turning a bit red, “or done anything like that. At all, I just… couldn’t.”

Your eyes widen a bit at the confession, watching as he looked at his hands, a slight twinge of embarrassment on his features.

“Oh.” you whispered, “I know I shouldn’t be mad, we… we aren’t together and you have have the right to do whatever you want but it’s just… hard. Especially when I wasn’t expecting it. I went to Italy to try and get away, everything in the city makes me think of you, I don’t know why I thought staying at the house would be any better but, I just wanted to get away.”

“Sorry I ruined your trip.”

“Sorry I ruined your hookups.”

He let out a laugh, the smile staying a bit longer when he noticed you had subconsciously scooted a bit closer to him.

“It’s not like I ever really wanted to… Even little Harry only wants you.” he flirted and an instant, loud laugh leaves your lips, leaning forward and your brace yourself on his shoulder, a simple thing you had done over the years countless times, but still made his heart skip a beat.

“Oh my god,” you said between breathless laughs, your bodies now less then a foot apart as you smiled up at him, “please do not call it little Harry!”

“What do you prefer?” He smirked, “rather I call it bi-“

“What the fuck?” a voice spoke suddenly, both of your red eyes going to your front door and seeing your best friend standing their, her eyes wide in a mix of confusion and anger. Your hand retracted from his body quickly, your best friend looking at you with soft eyes, her eyes darting over to Harry’s and you see the fiery anger behind them, “Y/N, please tell me he was getting whatever shit he left behind and is leaving.”

“We were just talking.” You started, glancing over at Harry, seeing a bit of fear behind his eyes and your lips quirked up in a smile that quickly faded seeing the anger in y/bff/n eyes.

“What do you want to talk to him about? How he broke your heart again?” She asked, confusion and concern laced in her voice, “I’m sorry, y/n, I just… I can’t watch you go through all of it all over again and again.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he quickly stood up beside you giving you a quick nod as he glanced over at y/bff/n the back at you, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just showed up. It was so good to see you, y/n, I’ll get out of your way.”

“Harry, wait!” you stood up, hating the softening in your voice, “I want to talk more… are you staying or do you have to go back to L.A?”

“I’ll be here as long as you need me. And if you want me gone, I’ll book my flight. Okay? It’s up to you, whatever you want.”

“Okay… Can I call you later?”

“You can call me anytime, I’ll pick up.”

***

Y/bff/n definitely wasn’t thrilled with you.

“I just feel like this is a bad idea, y/n!” She had exclaimed once Harry had left your apartment, “He’s gonna hurt you again! What could he possibly want?”

“I dont know, I just… I dont know.” You sighed, sitting across from her on your couch just like you did with him, “I love him and I don’t know what’s going to happen but I don’t want to end up hating him.”

She nodded, looking at you as your eyes glazed over again, “Hey, okay, I’m sorry. I just don’t want you upset. Do you still wanna go try this new place or just hang out here? Let’s get your mind off of everything, you need a break, yeah? Especially if you’re going to talk to him later.”

“Do you think I should?"

“If that’s what you think, I think you should. You know him.” She nods, “but I swear to god if he makes you cry again he’ll have to deal with me.”

So now, here you were, waiting on him to come back to finish your talk from earlier. It was helpful hanging out with y/bff/n, listening to her advice as she gave you a bit of the reality check that you needed, making sure he won’t sweep you off your feet with his familiar charm.

Your heart rate never fully calmed down as you waited for him to come back to your apartment after y/bff/n dropped you back off after your afternoon together and you were glad for the few hours of a distraction, but now your mind was fully occupied with him once again as you sat on your couch.

The knock on your door caused you to jump, hoping up and checking your appearance in your hall mirror before swinging open the door, seeing Harry standing their with a bouquet of flowers, a small smile on his face.

“Got these for you,” he began, “shoulda showed up with them when I kinda crashed into you earlier… but I was so nervous I didn’t think about it, honestly.”

“Thank you.” You softly replied, eyeing up at him and taking them from his grip, letting out a shaky breath as you welcome him in and turn on your heel, going to your kitchen to place them into a vase quickly before going back to him, seeing him in the same spot you two were sitting in earlier.

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry again… and thank you for letting me come back and talk to you at all, really don’t deserve your time, but I’m thankful for it.” He began, eyes glued onto yours as he scooted closer to you when you sat down, his fingers tentatively trailing on your arm before laying his hand on your own, “I… I want you back, y/n. I want to be with you, I never stopped wanting just you.”

“Harry, I… I don’t know what to say.” You started, “I just… there’s so much still up in the air and it’s all happening so fast. Are you still with Olivia?”

“No, of course not.” He instantly answered, “we were never anything real, I left Italy when I went to the house and you were gone. I came back here and I just… I would sit outside your building in my car and just try and get the nerve to walk in to talk to you, but I was so scared of you telling me to leave again.” Harry started deep into your eyes as he continued, his own welling up with tears, “I love you so much and I was such an idiot and fuck baby… I’ll do anything to prove it you.”

Now, you two were just inches apart, his hand cupping your cheek as you leaned into it, eyes glued onto his eyes as both of your gazes were glassy, sets of eyes wandering down to one another’s lips. Your eyes fluttered up and looked at him, his nose nudging into yours, seeming to test the boundary and you simply nodded, causing him to connect your lips in an instant.

Your lips met softly, gaining speed as the passion overflowed you both as the familiar move came back easier than either of you could have imagined. You both moaned into one another’s mouths, his tongue quickly sliding past your lips as your crawled onto his lap, fingers gripping the soft material of his shirt.

Things escalated quickly as he carried you into your bedroom, body hovering over yours as his body pressed against yours, the articles of clothing disappearing piece by piece, lips never separating a second longer than they had to you as you refamilarized yourselves with one another.

His fingers dug their way into your waist as he kissed you harder, singular pieces of thin material being the only things separating you and as Harrys fingers slipped down, pulling back and looking up at you for permission, your breath caught in your throat, reality hitting you like a wave.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered, fingers removing themselves from his hair as you covered your face, voice wavering as tears welled up in your eyes once again, “I-it’s all too much, too fast- I-I, I don’t think I can do this, Harry- I can’t.”

“Fuck, it’s okay.” He whispered, crawling off from on top of you, scrambling to pick his t shirt off the floor and handing to you, quickly covering your body with it, “Fuck, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

You nodded quickly, knees tucking into your chest as you let out soft cries, flinching as his arm came around you, going to comfort you with the soft stroke of his arm and retracted it quickly after seeing your reaction.

“I-I… I just keep seeing you and her in my head.” You whispered, “…I don’t know if I can do this.”

#harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles masterlist #harry styles series #harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles headcannon #harry styles fanfic #bucky barnes

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hacash · 3 years

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season 3 predictions

(all of which are likely to be made completely redundant by 2x12 but HEY HO LET’S GO)

Sam. I think the opportunity offered to him by Edwin is too great to pass up but I just can’t imagine the show and the Richmond team without Toheeb Jimoh. Given that the writers have said they’ve planned these arcs in advance I don’t think he’d be written out for the sake of a new acting gig. Therefore because I’m selfish and desperately hoping he stars in season 3 (and could hardly pop back as a recurring character while on Edwin’s team) I could see him doing a Leslie Knope from Parks and Rec: ‘I want to leave Richmond better than when I joined it’. After what I hope will be a promotion for the team I could potentially see him asking Edwin for a year’s grace to help Richmond win the Premier League, and then he’ll happily take him up on his offer.

I’m also hoping like hell that this would be the push Rebecca needs to see there’s not going to be a future in the relationship with Sam. It’s interesting that although Bill Lawrence has openly agreed that the employee/age difference is concerning, there’s been little acknowledgement of that in the show, so I wonder if there’s going to be fallout in episode 12 in some fashion. Regardless, I think it’s time to say goodbye to Sambecca.

Keeley and Roy. I am firmly of the opinion that they ain’t breaking up any time soon. There’s no way in hell Roy has knelt down in front of Keeley so many times without it meaning something, so I am certain that next season will be the planning of the Kent-Jones wedding.

I also have a sneaking suspicion that Keeley might end up being the next opening-shot of the season. After episode after episode of her working as Roy/Rebecca/Jamie’s emotional support, we got a tantalising glimpse into her psyche last episode: both with her uncertainties around being featured in Vanity Fair and her ambitions being shaped by her mother’s history. I love Keeley but quite frankly we haven’t had enough of her as plot - I really think/hope she might come to the fore next season.

Nate. I fully believe there’s no way in hell Nate will still be working at Richmond come the end of the season, though I can imagine him walking away in a fit of pique rather than Rebecca firing him. (Frankly, I can’t see Ted letting Rebecca do that.) I think he’ll end up joining another team - possibly with or without Darth Mannion’s help - and, although a lot of people here want this to be a devastatingly humiliating/humbling experience for Nate, I’d love to see this as an opportunity for him to genuinely grow outside the confines of Richmond (which forms way too much of his identity - and let’s be honest, can’t always hold good memories for Nate when he was literally asking his teammates not to physically harass him on a daily basis). I can definitely see someone - HigginsHigginsHiggins - giving him Sharon’s number to call before he leaves, and I like the idea that in the season break Nate could be dealing with some of his issues and returning to the Nate the Great we know and love.

However, I then think Nate will somehow end up back at Richmond. While you could argue that it would be better for Nate to make a clean break, it would honestly be a waste of Nick Mohammed’s bloody sterling acting talents to keep him away from Nelson Road for too long in season 3. I have no idea how a redemption arc here might look, but it would have to be good, and if there’s forgiveness to be offered, it should take more than the space of an episode - although I hope they don’t stretch it out too long. Rebecca and Jamie were forgiven relatively quickly; it would be a shame and a bad look if Nate’s own forgiveness journey was too disproportionately drawn out.

I’d also love to see Jamie, Colin and Isaac apologise for their season 1 bullying of Nate. Much as the bullying Nate suffered doesn’t excuse his shoddy behaviour, Nate’s own bullshit doesn’t excuse what our beloved trio pulled in season 1 - and crucially, we never saw them apologise to Nate or try to make amends. I really love apology scenes and I’d love to see Nate with some friends beyond Ted and Keeley - and that li’l scene in the Liverpool karaoke bar with Isaac, Colin and Nate doing shots together means I want more of this friendship.

Some sort of Jamie/Nate commiseration over shit dads and over-compensating for the emotional wounds they give us? Please?

More Higgins. In many ways Higgins is the emotional rock for our beloved Richmond: he’s the only one not suffering from some sort of untold trauma or struggles, and is able to live with a relationship with an imperfect father and yet be a fantastic father himself. I’d love to see a storyline where Higgins isn’t on the periphery but straight in the heart of the action, potentially adopting a Richmond boy or two along the way.

By saying this, I mean Jamie. If we get a scene where Jamie is invited around to the Higginses for Sunday lunch I will cry. Much like Nate needs space apart from Richmond to grow and heal, Jamie needs close relationships with people who aren’t Keeley for security - mature familial relationships, and quite frankly the Higginses are the stable family dynamic Jamie needs right now.

Why the fuck does Colin feel the need to remind himself he is not a piece of shit? Enquiring minds need to know. We’ve had episode storylines that focus on Dani, Sam, Jamie and Isaac; I just want one with Colin where I’m not emotionally devastated by the end of it, thank you Headspace.

This isn’t so much a prediction as a plea, but an entire episode where the Richmond boys are the focus. A night out in Richmond, that long-promised pillow fight, them finally taking Colin to go clothes shopping for something that isn’t a button-up polo shirt - I honestly don’t care, I just need as much of their antics as Apple TV allows.

On a slightly more realistic note, the Himbos Greyhounds content rose significantly from season 1 to season 2, so I can see the writers carrying on with that arc.

Ted. Fuck knows. At this point I can’t trust myself to predict Ted’s actions - I do think Nate’s going to be leaving Richmond, and so I can’t see Ted leaving as well. It would be amazing if Ted used the dubiously-written expose (c’mon Trent, you couldn’t have given Ted a head’s up or asked for a quote before the article was put online? forget dubious journalism ethics that just...seems inefficient not to approach him for a comment while you were writing the piece) as an excuse to talk more about mental health in sport. I definitely think episode 12 is going to have Richmond rally around Ted, and so I do hope the article isn’t going to drive Ted further into hiding and that he’ll be at Richmond by the time season 3 comes around.

Ted and Rebecca. I can’t have been the only one that caught that little look by Ted when Rebecca left his office in 2x11, right? Certainly the show has set up a whopper of a truth bomb for season 3, when there’s another heart to heart in Ted’s office, and though it could be anything, my little shipper heart is screaming some sort of romantic confession of love. I don’t know, it just feels like there is a...a something between Ted and Rebecca that’s going to happen in 2x12, and I can’t help but think it’s going to lay the foundations for whatever happens in season 3 big time.

#ted lasso #ted lasso spoilers #ted lasso speculation

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bailey-whalieee · 3 years

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Things Are Different Now

(So sorry this took so long, I had major writers block and graduation and goodness life got in the way, it’s been a mess, but I am back!! Look out for regular updates!)

THREE

✮

A week had passed and still the DA and the investigation officer had absolutely nothing on the shooting or why it happened. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky decided to pull Maggie from school for a few weeks to help her process what happened and her anxieties.

Maggie’s nightmares from the night of the party progressed into night terrors and her dad’s would awake to her screams and pleas. It was another reason why Steve and Bucky made the executive order to pull her out of school.

Steve and Bucky laid awake at 3:45 am, awaiting the heart wrenching screams that would soon emit from just down the hall. “Buck, you still awake?”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from his lips, “of course I am, punk.”

His hand intertwined with Bucky’s metal one, seeking comfort from the man. The nightly routine completely broke the men and it made them relive the first months after adopting their sweet girl.

Like clockwork, her screams echoed down the hallway and the two men rushed out of bed. Bucky and Steve felt as though there was something missing. It didn’t make any sense to them why her nightmares were so vivid and petrifying.

Her bed covers were tossed on the floor and Maggie thrashed violently on her mattress, pillowcase stained with tears.

“Maggie, sweetheart, hey, wake up. You’re okay, shh..”

The whimpers didn’t seem to want to stop and neither did the panicked breathing. Her own hands fought theirs as Steve and Bucky tried to wake her, fragments of sentences fell from her lips.

With a choking gasp, Maggie flinching away from the figures before realizing it was only her father’s.

“Hey, hey, doll.. Just breathe,” Bucky reassured, seeing the terrified glint in her eyes.

She locked eyes with Steve and immediately her bottom lip trembled and tears spilled down the red flushed cheeks. “Maggs, darling, what is going on? Honey, you haven’t had nightmares this bad since you were young. Are we missing something? You gotta start talking to us about this,” he coaxed, sitting on the messy bed.

“I-i…”

She drew a blank.. Not only did she have to make up another lie about the nightmares, but now she was just lying. “I don’t know.. Just scared okay?” she shrugged, her doe eyes irritated and puffy.

Bucky wanted to call her bluff.. He knew his daughter especially when she was hiding something, but it was four in the morning and the tiredness showed in her eyes. Maybe she needed to be pulled from school indefinitely, he thought..

“Okay honey.. Just get some sleep,” Steve sighed, smoothing down the mess of blonde curls.

As the two men turned to leave, Maggie whispered, “dad, papa, I’m sorry..”

Puzzled, they both turned around confused with the girl.

“For what maggs?”

“For being like this.. I know you guys are tired, and that you guys never asked for this,” she softly murmured out.

Steve and Bucky paused, before they sat back down on her bed. “Maggie, sweetheart, you are our daughter. Nothing is ever going to stop that from being true. We are here till the end of the line even if it means being here at four in the morning reminding you that whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours isn’t true,” Steve spoke gently, wiping the fallen tears off her face.

“Plus, your father had to deal with me when we were younger. This ain't nothing, doll,” Bucky chuckled, kissing the top of forehead.

“Get some sleep kiddo, we are going to go do something special today,” Steve winked, ruffling her hair once more.

Confused, she bid her goodnights and tried to lay back down, but the nightmare had reminded her of all the things she never used to be scared of.

✮

The morning came rather quickly and so did the smell of a familiar scent of something Maggie remembered from her childhood.

Bacon & chocolate chip pancakes.

The soft sound of 1920’s music played from the record player in the living room and her two father’s chuckling softly as they flipped pancakes and bacon. Stretching, Maggie made her appearance in the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” she yawned, finding her seat on the island.

Huffing, Bucky pointed the wooden spatula at his daughter accusingly, “can two loving father’s make their daughter her favorite breakfast without there being a catch?”

Rolling her eyes, she snickered, “oh may we not forget the time you made this breakfast when my fish died, or the time you guys made it when I failed the spelling bee. Or the time I broke my arm and you guys were trying to cheer me up.”

“Buck, she’s got a point..”

“Okay fine, we are going to take you to the botanical garden,” he smirked.

Maggie’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “wait seriously??”

“Yes Maggs, go do your thing and breakfast will be ready by the time you're done,” Steve chuckled, watching his daughter race back upstairs with a squeal.

Shaking their heads, Buck had one thought, “Stevie, I think we won’t have to worry about our daughter having children.. I think we are going to have to worry about her being a plant mom for the rest of her life.”

“I’m just glad she’s not interested in boys,” Steve laughed, “one less ass I have to kick.”

“Agreed, Stevie, agreed.”

Meanwhile, Maggie had decided on her outfit, settling on her all time favorite pants and a butterfly shirt she got for christmas one year. Steve often said her pants reminded him of a hippie and she would roll her eyes.

Practically, running back down stairs she skidded through the threshold of the kitchen excitement beaming from her body. Bucky and Steve’s face both held grins as they took in her outfit.

The yellow socks peaked through her cuffed jeans, a vivid reminder of sunshine and sunny days. They hadn’t seen her smile like this in weeks and to be honest, they never wanted to see it go away.

After breakfast, and lots of hippie jokes from Steve and Bucky, they finally decided to pile into the large Ford Expedition. In all honesty, Maggie had forgotten about the horrors that had happened over the past couple weeks and the weight of it all disappeared for just a moment.

“So, does this mean I get to buy plants while we are here father’s?” she asked wiggling her eyebrow as they all stepped out of the vehicle.

Taking a long sarcastic breath, Bucky sighed, “I suppose so, doll.. If you really need them.”

“Rookie mistake, Buck.. Now she is going to say she needs them all,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head at the man.

Maggie ignored their bickering and awe took over her features as she walked around the planted sanctuary.

Bucky and Steve smiled watching their normally tense daughter return back to her calm self. “Maggs look at this long leafy thing,” Buck pointed, inspecting the plant.

Turning on her heels, she examined what seemed to be a spider plant and spilled the useless information about plants and she gushed about the types of spider plants and how they are useful.

A cold feeling washed over her body when she caught out of the corner of her eye, the same military style boots from that night. Stopping mid sentence, Maggie froze. All of the air expelled from her lungs and both of the super-soldiers noticed the shift in the air.

“Maggie?”

No.

Not again.

“I’ll be right back,” Maggie breathed, not wasting a second before practically running to the bathroom. She could hear Steve and Bucky calling out her name, but she ignored them, only allowing her feet to carry her faster.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other with confusion, how odd?

Her breaths came out rushed and rugged as she entered the bathroom, not knowing exactly if he was actually there or if she had just imagined the combat boots.

She had to calm down. It may not even be him? Maggie couldn’t help, but think about all the what if’s that could happen. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket alarming the already shaken up women.

Unknown

you ought to be more careful. you never know who is lurking about.

1:26 pm

A chill ran up her spine as she sat in the bathroom stall, tears begging to be set free. She couldn’t just sit in the bathroom stall, knowing full well that Steve and Bucky would burst through the door not giving two shits about it being a women’s bathroom if she tried.

Gathering herself back together, she wiped the smeared mascara off her cheeks and took a deep breath.

Gods, why couldn’t this just be over?

‘Should I confess? Maybe I should tell them..’ she thought to herself exiting the bathroom searching for two pairs of familiar blue eyes.

Finally she spotted her two fathers, leaned up against a metal pole admiring the pond with bountiful amounts of fish. Making a beeline for them, she wrapped her arms around Bucky taking in his cologne.

He shot a glance at Steve, raising an eyebrow but nonetheless returning the hug back to his daughter. “Maggs? You okay, darlin’?” he asked, concerned with the surprise hug.

Sighing, she gave him a small smile, “just needed a hug.”

She turned to her other father wrapping her arms around him, and Steve chuckled shaking his head at her antics.

“Papa's, can we just go home and watch a movie or something, there’s a lot of people here?” she asked, knowing that it wasn’t the people it was just one person who might be lurking closer than she wanted.

Steve’s face scrunched up at her announcement, “I think you have been spending too much time with your father.”

“Hey now punk,” Bucky jokingly warned, “c’mon Maggs we will leave pop’s to his own devices since he doesn’t want to hang with us.”

Letting out a laugh, she shook her head at their jests at one another pulling on Bucky’s gloved hand as a sign it was time to go.

Staying high alert, she almost searched for the boots hoping that maybe she would have the courage to go after him. Deep down she wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for her on the other side of those damn combat boots and she knew it.

M&M

maggie, we need to talk asap.

1:41 pm

Furrowing her eyebrow, Maggie’s stomach almost dropped just by looking at the text. It felt like she couldn’t escape that feeling anymore.

Maggs

meet me at my house in ten.

1:43 pm

Clicking out of iMessage, she sighed trying not to allow her anxious thoughts to take over. Gods, she prayed that it was anything, but the shooting or related to the shooting. Maggie had bit off more than she could chew of this damn accident.

“Maggs, you okay? Look a lil’ bummed out, doll?” Bucky looked up into the rearview mirror the vehicle.

She smiled tightly, “yeah, Em is coming over. It’s an emergency.”

Steve turned around from the passenger seat looking concerned, “everything okay?”

Nodding, she shrunk more into the leather seat hoping to just disappear before shortly saying, “boy problems.”

Bucky and Steve almost choked on the air they were breathing. “W-what? Boy problems? Doll, you're not talking to boys yet, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong.. Papa and I won’t stop you, but they really do suck and…”

At this point, Maggie zoned out not even listening to anything Bucky panickingly stuttered out. Emma’s text burnt itself in the back of her mind and the thoughts were relentless.

‘Gods please let this be a boy problem… please.’

✮

When they arrived back, Emma’s car parked itself by their mailbox and she practically darted out of the car and into the house. Maggie knew exactly where she would find Emma.. Either curled up on her bed under the mounds of pillows or on her carpeted floor.

Pushing the bedroom door open, Maggie found Emma holding several envelopes and swollen red eyes.

Emma’s eyes were sunken in like she hadn’t slept very much and her face flushed a deep red. “Em..?”

She shoved the envelopes into Maggie’s hands, before a new wave of tears overtook the girl. Not knowing what to do, she opened the already torn envelopes wordlessly. Countless photos of her best friend, laid in her hands with several letters all written with the same message in fancy red ink.

‘This isn’t over Emma Anderson, this is only the beginning. - black wolf’

“Em, who is this?” Maggie uttered, speechless.

She looked at Maggie absolutely floored by her question, “are you fucking kidding me, Maggie? Do I know who this is? No, Maggie. I don’t fucking know who the hell it is. I’m going to guess it was that little prick who almost killed us, and thanks to you, I can’t tell anyone.”

“Emma, I didn’t know-”

“You know what Maggie Rogers-Barnes, how about you take care of this? Since you wanna be like your daddies and save the fucking world, fix it. You’re going to end up just like those kids. Dead. Fuck you for getting me into this mess and not letting the cops do their jobs.”

Every word hit Maggie like a slap in the face and her jaw went slack.

“You know what Maggie, just forget it. You’ll never be that hero you told me about, cause you’re too much of a damn coward to tell anyone about what happened at that damn party. Don’t text me again. Fuck you, fuck this friendship,” and with that, Emma walked out of her bedroom and back to her car.

Breathing harshly, she allowed the tears to freely fall down her face. This could not be happening. No, the one thing she wanted to keep until she died just walked out of her life.

Hearing the loud footsteps rushing up the stairs, Maggie hid the envelopes under her laptop trying to cover up her tears.

“Hey babydoll, everything okay? We heard some yelling and then Emma just left,” Steve furrowed his eyebrow noticing the wetness of her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, “yeah, just a little fight over something stupid. Can I ask you guys an irrelevant question?”

“Of course doll.”

“Shoot, honey.”

“You guys always told me that I should stand up for what I believe in and that I should fight for something even if it is hard, right? Because, I am so scared that people will be mad if I do,” she ended, feeling tears prick in the back of her eyes.

“Maggs, one of the hardest fights will always be following everyone else or you can take the hard path that won’t be easy and do what it is right,” Bucky spoke, watching his conflicted daughter.

“When I didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords, it was the hardest thing I had done, but Maggie I stood up for what I believed in and I did it. I fought a lot of pissed off people and faced criminal offenses, but it was so worth it. Don’t let anybody tell you what is right or wrong. Figure that out on your own,” Steve concluded with a soft smile, “besides, I got your dad through the deal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving him lightly.

Smiling gently, she mumbled a small, “thanks dad’s.”

And with that, Maggie formulated a plan in her mind.

She would fix this no matter what it took even if it meant her own life. She screwed it up. It didn’t matter if it took hell freezing over to make amends, Maggie made the decision that night that it was time to fix it.

✮

#stucky x daughter!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x oc #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #steve x oc #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #avengers x reader #agnst #fluff

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astriefer · 3 years

Text

Let Me Kiss Your Bleedings Goodbye / Look Around And See How Much You Are Loved

Summary: Alastair just wants to listen to music in his room, but the world won't have it.

Word count: 5718

Warnings: alcohol, implied mental abuse, manipulation, toxic relationships, cursing, mentioned alcoholism, neglect, negative thoughts.

@littlx-songbxrd that one is for your birthday! You chose angst the other day so I just rolled with it-

Happy birthday!! You're an amazing, creative,talented and such a special friend! I'm glad I got to meet you ^-^

All Alastair asked for was to listen to music on his phone and mind his own business. But of course, the fates weren't happy unless Alastair has had a shitty day.

Cordelia knocked on his door politely. "Alastair?"

It was Saturday, so she had no reason to bother him. Lunch had already been served, and she was about to go out with her friends. So why come bother him now?

He made no move to unlock the door, and his annoying little sister repeated, "Alastair!"

She started to slam her fists at the door like some sort of a madwoman, and Alastair groaned and tore himself from his bed. "What?" he hissed as his bedroom door flew wide open.

"Mâmân wants you downstairs," Cordelia answered, backing away slightly. If she heeded Alastairs's pissed mood, good. She interrupted in the middle of his favorite song. The call of reason would say it was because they were almost nose to nose, and she was repulsed of his closeness as any other sibling would, but he liked the first option better.

"And that you couldn't tell me through the door because?" he snarled, and Cordelia rolled her eyes. He glanced at her and noticed what she wore - one of her favorites clothes Lucie picked up for her a few months ago. He arched a perfect eyebrow at his sister."Is there some special occasion?"

Cordelia's cheeks flushed red, and she decisively didn't meet his eyes. "It's nothing. Just going out with some-- That's none of your business. You're so irking. Oof."

She exchanged to the annoyed-sibling-defense-system mid-sentence. It was Alastair's turn to roll his eyes so he didn't waste it. "Whatever. Go play dolls with Lucie." Closing the door behind him, he ambled down the staircase to the ground floor, ignoring his sister's protest.

He entered the drawing-room, which he found deserted. All that laid there were a few magazines Cordelia left on the table and an empty cup of coffee. He didn't stall to wonder who besides him drank coffee in the house since his mother was pregnant - and it was unhealthy for the baby - and Cordelia didn't like it. He headed to the dining room, finding his mother seated on one of the dinner table's seats. In front of her, seemingly a pristine-white unopened letter.

"Dearling," Sona smiled at her son, the light not reaching her eyes. "How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he answered. He perched on the chair next to hers and took one of the pastries Risa brought the previous day that laid in a basket. She would occasionally check on Sona and them. Their aunt had assisted them in any possible way was able to in the past few months. And even before that, she volunteered to do things Alastair wished she wouldn't. She once contacted James Herondale, Cordelia's boyfriend, to give him the talk . It was hilarious as much as it was terrifying because while Risa picked fundamental English words, she had him by the arm to help her translate. And Holly Lord in the sky, he couldn't look James in the face for a month.

Sona just studied him for a few moments, before her features softened. "You always so self-reliant." she shook her head. "I'm sorry. You don't need your mother to nag you."

Alastair inclined toward her, squinting. "Mom, I never said that."

"You seem peeved at me," she adjusted her deep green roosari - it matched the wide yellow and green dress she wore - before resting her eyes on the letter. "I would think it has something to do with puberty if I didn't have a second teenager in the house."

"I'm not angry at you." Alastair scoffed.

"Alright," Sona said.

"Are Cordelia and I in a competition of who is the worst teenager? Well - at least I'm on the lead. Cordelia should level up her game."

"Dear, it's not it," Sona lifted both her hands, like in a plea, before she dropped them on the table again. Alastair noted her eyes wandered around the room - deviated from how she usually behaved - and suspected he was going to be apprised of some news.

Brows furrowed, he asked, "Is there something you want to tell me?"

"Well-" she rubbed at her eyes, and Alastair noticed - not for the first time - the dark circles around his mother's eyes. Does he keep you awake at night? He wished to ask in worse days, to see if it hurt her as much as it hurt him. Or is he haunting you with nightmares?

Alastair long knew the figure Elias is in Cordelia and Sona's dreams is of some immaculate hero. One with kind eyes, a guiding beacon, a loving man. In their dreams, he would outstretch a comforting hand and still be young and caring. He's the best version of himself, a father and a husband that loves them. He is also the man that dwelled in his most horrifying nightmares - A drunk, nothing more. He was swigging vodka by the bar, with cold eyes and tousled white hair. This version of his father, he knew, would call him a brat, would complain about his mother pestering him to visit rehab. His father would hug his bottle and glance at him as if he was a nuisance to get rid of, and he would close his eyes and wish to be elsewhere. But he's small again, and just wants his father to leave the bottle to hug him goodnight, tucked safely under the blankets. But his father wouldn't come.

Was it foolish his heart still stung whenever he came across this truth?

She cut the pleasantries and readied herself. "Your father's lawyer declared he wouldn't waive the trial," Sona conceded, her shoulders sagged. His mother laid a protective hand on her belly, where Alastair's sibling has been growing in her womb for the past few months. "A letter was dispatched."

It was all it had to take to ruin his day. He barely had the restraint to not leap on feet and scream at the cursed photo of his father, hung on one of the walls. Before it was all revealed, before it exploded in their face, and far before Cordelia became aware of their father's afflict, they used to do it often. To talk about what they would do next. How to protect Cordelia, how to help Elias, how to hide the appalling secret of their family their best. Now they did it for an entirely different reason.

Up to a few months ago, they were still a picture of a family in a broken frame. When the court exonerated Elias from any blame, they reunited and returned to posture like they always had been. Act, because that is all they could do. However, upon Elias's trial, Cordelia discovered the truth. Alastair was so exhausted from hiding it, he didn't perceive it until he let the lie collapse. He had blamed himself, he still did, but it changed nothing from the fact Cordelia knew about their father now.

She knew, and she was livid. At Alastair, at their mother and father, at the world. After all, she lived a lie. Who could have blamed her?

It was that day he confessed to her in a shaken voice the utter truth and let the wall between them succumb and burn to ashes. When he looked her in the eyes then, he saw the light in her eyes dimming, reality striking, the way he desires it never would. All those years he kept her safe from Elias were in vain. Although he received his sister back into his life, there was little Alastair could do but blame himself for shattering the delicate reality they threaded around her, the needless pain he caused her. She needed to comprehend, he told himself, what was behind the mask her father put in front of the world.

But if he never wanted to tell her, did it still count?

And his mother. She looked stiff, if not a bit tired. She held herself straight and proud, yet it was useless. Because what could she do? What either of them could do?

"He accuses me of Parental Alienation," Sona went on, caressing her belly delicately. She peeked at the letter again, and Alastair did as well. Now he realized the sign on the letter, and the fact it seemed unopened but in fact was. "The court is checking out at his claims."

Alastair exhaled through the nose, rocking his leg in rage. "That's nonsense. He's irresponsible alcoholism that can't take care of himself. He was tipsy on the day of the trial! Any feeling we have toward him, it's his own making." Throughout the very beginning of sending the Divorce Complaint to court, Elias had refused to accept he was divorcing. Alastair was awfully aware his father wanted custody over them, and he fought with all his unmighty power to prevent it. When he imagined his younger siblings suffering a fraction of his father's attitude, his nerves set on fire. He was aware his mother fought teeth and nails to proceed in this divorce even without this additional claim.

And Alastair was even more aware they barely had had the money to pay for this.

"What does he want?" Alastair growled. "He knows we don't have that money! He doesn't have the money to pay for this prosecution either!" His father, being put in jail, fired from his job, and wasting their money on wine, probably couldn't even provide Child Support.

"I thought it was going so well," Sona returned his stare, kind and calm. The giving sign she was upset was that rustling sound her roosari made when she fixed it restlessly.

"And Cordelia?" he made to quiet himself on the spot. He spoke in something similar to a whisper. "Bloody hell, she's upstairs. How can we tell her?"

"Language," she warned, then reached and rested her hand on his comfortingly. "She already knows."

He whipped his head in her direction. His mother didn't bat an eyelash. He managed only to let a strangled "What?" escape his mouth. He couldn't wound his mind around it. The father Cordelia looked up to betrayed her, over and over again.

His mother closed her eyes. Maybe she couldn't look at his desperate, fumed face any longer. "She was the one to fetch the letter from the post." Alastair held himself from swearing again and rose to his feet. It's good his mother didn't look at him - he wasn't sure he could look at her either. He was trembling with agitation, his vision red.

"He can't do that. He can't- get to win. Not after all the pain we've been through because of him. That's not fair. That's not fair." He was breathing hard.

"He wouldn't. Alastair, dear, look at me."

Her words were veracious, so was her voice. He couldn't manage himself to do as she said.

"Joonam-"

"I'm going for a walk." He declared strongly, hastily. "I need to chill out. Go and rest, Mother. You shouldn't work yourself out."

And with that, he took his leave. He ignored his mother calling him from behind. He brought no chattel but himself and whatever he bore that instant as he closed the door behind him and rushed down the street to disappear among the many passersby of London. Before even thinking about it, his phone was out, and he typed feverishly and pressed send without waiting to reread his text. He tucked his phone back into his trouser's pocket and took a deep breath.

His father wouldn't desist from haunting him, no matter how much he prayed it to come to an end. When his mother announced she wants a divorce, he - not lacking guilt - felt glad. Each day home was a misery. His mother was confined to bed, his father trailed the streets as if he didn't return from rehab just a month before. And this life was a cage he longed to escape, to set free from the crushing weight on his heart.

His father-

He came to a halt in the middle of the street, letting his head fall all the way back with closed eyes. He wanted to punch a wall or lash out at someone. When he talked with Jem the other day, his cousin told him bottling things inside would only result in a breakdown. He recommended he contact a person he trusted when it all felt too much for Alastair to bear.

Perhaps he should...

No. he shook as head, trying to toss this idea into an imaginary dump bin. There's no need. A nice, solitary stroll is a splendid solution. Alastair needn't anyone to look at his back worriedly like some ailing lost kitten. He didn't need it. He can be fine if he simply composed himself.

He let his legs carry him mindlessly, losing himself in his thoughts. He walked, and walked, and walked. It was a great aid to clear his mind. Even in a crowded London street in the afternoon, he felt the tight cloud of thoughts loosening around his mind. Not for long, however.

He walked near a club - a club he knew very well, but not because of his father. And in the entrance stood a freckled figure, with silken ginger hair and piercing green eyes.

The sight of his ex-boyfriend was enough to startle Alastair out of his thought. They locked eyes, and Alastair nearly lost his footing. Charles blurted something to whomever he was talking to and advanced toward the dark-haired boy. Alastair felt himself go stiff as if he prepared for a hit. Swiftly, he considered turning around and flee, and just as he was about to put this thought into effect, he felt a hand seizing his forearm. While Collecting his confidence, he turned to give Charles a blank glare.

"Alastair." greeted the older boy. "What are you doing here?"

"None of your business," Why did his voice sound hoarse? "Let go of me," Alastair demanded.

Charles's grip on his dark skin did not weaken. It felt warm even though there had been a layer of cloth between them. Alastair attempted to break free, however Charles pressed his hand harder, not enabling Alastair to move. "Come."

And so Alastair was led by his redhead ex-partner to an alley, hidden from any of Charles's companions. Alastair had the sudden urge to laugh - still so furtive. Still so abashed. Charles shoved him into the alley, blocking his way out with his body. "Alastair. I haven't seen you in a long time."

However mad he felt, his voice came out calm. Cold. Indifferent. Like he practiced in front of a mirror when he was small. "That was the point of breaking up with you," he retorted evenly.

Charles ignored his remark. "You haven't answered any of my texts, nor my calls. I ought to speak with you."

A lump rose in his throat. "I can't fathom anything to be said to matter."

He dug his nails in his palm, then understood he'd been doing it and forced himself to relax. Charles had no authority over him. He couldn't reach him now. Yet, it felt far away when Charles studied him like a very interesting political certificate. He hesitated before lifting his hand to touch Alastair's cheek tenderly. Alastair, in turn, backed away. Which was a difficult talk considering Charles still held his hand around his forearm.

"Unhand me," Alastair almost spat. He felt his own shield build up. "Do you want any of your colleagues to see you so close to a man?" The dark-eyed boy knew it would work. Charles always aspired to appear pivotal, even when it was clearly pretentious of his side. Charles's grip loosened him and Alastair hastily put distance between them. Charles gave him a look - one Alastair could only describe as wistful.

"Had I known what I did wrong to make you stop caring for me, I would have made sure to keep you closer to me," Charles said softly.

At first, it sounded almost sweet. Almost. Rather rapidly it turned disgusting as the words sank. Keep you closer, toughen the chains, tell lies to a love-famished soul.

He felt fire spreading in his stomach. Not the good sort of fire - but the kind that consumes everything it touches, that destroys and demolishes and injures. "You didn't know?" Alastair's voice quivered as he spoke, barely tamed anger in every syllable. "Shucks, so what could tell? What could tell you did something wrong when I told you I was upset you were with Ariadne? And later on, when you went and pushed your tongue into Grace's mouth in front of my eyes to make everyone believe you're straight? Or perhaps that whenever I expressed any feeling that wasn't gratitude you grace me with your presence, you said I'm overreacting? "

Charles straightened. "I wasn't bad to you. I tried to give you everything I could."

"Damnit, Charles, not today," Alastair whirled in his place, his words hot and sharp. "That's not on you to decide if you were bad or good to me! You have no right to decide for me. You gave me what you thought would be enough so I won't talk, and I was a boy desperate to be loved." He exhaled slowly. "So no, Charles. You weren't good for me at all."

"You wanted me to out myself for you when I wasn't ready?"

He was never going to be ready, Alastair thought. "If you think I was upset with you because you weren't out, you don't know me at all." A mirthless laugh slipped Alastair's lips. Did Charles even listen to him?

"Don't say that." Charles objected. "I know you better than anyone else. You know that too." he huffed and loosened his tie. "No, that's not it. Do you not love me anymore?"

It was ridiculous. "No, Charles, I don't." The smell hit his nostrils, and the realization dawned on him. Charles's mouth stank from Alcohol, despite not smelling it on his clothes at all.

Ah.

"You're drunk," Alastair condemned. It was almost an accusation, spoke so offhandedly. But he truly didn't care enough for it to be an accusation.

"I drank only a drink or two." Charles dismissed, and he looked so ugly at that moment, Alastair wanted to flee from his presence. "If you didn't want me, don't blame me for why this relationship broke apart. I try to make things right."

It was comedic to watch Charles exculpate himself and put the blame on Alastair, had it been another day. Now, it only pissed Alastair furthermore.

"Stay away from me," his words sounded like acid in his ears. "I am not fond of drunks. Or ex-boyfriends. And you seem to be both."

Charles made a comical face, one in another day Alasair might laugh at. Distantly, he realized now why Cordelia and Sona were so reluctant to break him the news. When it came to this case, and to his father, Alastair was always on his toes. He is still too easily riled by the words and deeds of others sometimes. When he had to tell the court about his deeds revolving around his father - the late-night walks outside to pubs, the frequent help; the fear someone would find out - he poured all of his being to try and help his family. Defend them from Elias. But seemingly it had no use, and all Alastair was left with is his contempt with nowhere to pour it into. It slipped from the cracks of his armor like Lava.

He passed Charles, who no longer blocked the alley, and Charles perked up and said, "We haven't finished talking."

His phone buzzed repeatedly, signaling Kamala had received his previous message. "We are done," Alastair growled, loud. These green eyes widened, and he opened his mouth. To shush him, most probably. However, blood boiled in his ears and his words demanded to be heard. "Unassuming, quiet, dark," Alastair snapped. "A bloody puppet, that's what you want. And I refuse to be your puppet any longer. What is in my words unclear to you? Stay. Away. Should I spell it for you?"

Charles glanced at the sides nervously, looking for leery eyes even though there were none. Alastair couldn't believe it. Charles still tried to subdue him. It made him smirk ruthlessly at the older boy. "But you can't take no for an answer, do you? You think you deserve everything."

"You have no idea what you're talking about," The redhead scoffed, squinting at him. "If you're angry at something, don't take it on me."

"Oh, I will do whatever I want to do," His grin widened viciously." All I do is tell you exactly what I think of you. Does it hurt your white-man-superiority complex?" he mocked with a false sad nod. "Too bad."

His phone started to ring, and he could already tell it was Kamala, worried about what he told her. She was straightforward when she told him once to never hesitate to call her if her help is required. In some of his worst days, it was his best friend that contributed to preventing him from knocking his head in a wall. Moreover, Alastair told Kamala everything about the lawsuit and what they'd been through - the Carstairs saw her like family - and she was nothing but understanding. It took every gram of control in Alastair's body to clasp his phone and say, "I must go."

He didn't wait for an answer.

His phone went quiet in his hand. He pressed a few buttons and gripped the phone close to his ear.

After the fourth ring, someone picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Our place," Alastair's voice was strained. It felt like it came out from far, far away. "Now."

With adrenaline still driving through his system, he headed to his hideout. When life would be too much, he used to wander around town or find his escape in the calm of nature. And if this meant hunkering down next to a fence in Hyde Park, that's his business alone.

His phone raged up, and he felt stable enough to answer. The first thing Kamala said over the call was, "Love, I'm so sorry."

"Yes," Alastair mumbled darkly. "Me too."

Eventually, they hung up, and he sat on the ground, so his legs were against his chest and his arms surrounding them. For however long it'd been, he rested his head on the fence and let his overloaded mind take a break. When it didn't work and his head still throbbed, Alastair kicked at the ground in frustration, raising a cloud of dust. Then he sounded the low noise of feet against the sand, and a long figure climbed the fence he leaned on.

He stared at what Thomas was securing at his hands before he made a noise of annoyance. "Hell with this," he reached his hand, "Bring it over."

He grasped the can of beer, opening it with a loud pssh-pop! The can was cold in his hand, as if fresh from the store, and he took a sip. Then he lowered the can, revealing again the image of Thomas in a hoodie and pajama pants. He looked like he put random combination clothes and went outside, which probably wasn't far from the truth. Alastair didn't have the power to hum appreciatively.

"You sounded like you were crashed by a motorcycle, and then was chewed by the cats and dogs of the neighborhood," Thomas offered. "Thought you might need it."

"No shit," Alastair mumbled. "Thanks." He cradled it to his chest and looked away. Thomas looked a bit worried, but he said no words. As silence as a cat - no, Thomas was better described as a tiger - he went and sat next to Alastair. He opened his own beer can, gulping the drink in big sips.

Alastair had not opened his mouth, and Thomas didn't pressure him. For long moments that stretched even longer than they should, none of them uttered a word. They set together, side by side, surrounded by trees and leaves and the sun sinking from the west. With a big 'Ugh', Alastair dipped his head and slipped into Thomas's arms.

"I don't want you embroiled in this," Alastair murmured, not moving as Thomas started tracing circles on his arm.

Thomas sighed softly, resting his chin on top of Alastair's head, not before he planted a kiss on the line of his hair. "Alright. But you know you can tell me whatever you want, yes?"

"I do," Alastair fell silent for a few seconds. His cheek was against Thomas's pulse point, where he found himself calming down with its steady beat. "I met Charles today."

"Charles?" at this sole word Thomas went rigid, ultimately relaxing as Alastair captured the hand on his arm and intertwined their fingers. "What has happened?"

"Nothing," Alastair answered and he knew without looking Thomas had his adorable face twisted in bewilderment. Therefore he added, reluctantly, "The usual."

Thomas moved to eye him suspiciously, but Alastair's head was still tucked under Thomas's chin. "I wouldn't think you call me if it was nothing."

"I call you for all sort of things. It doesn't have to be because my toxic ex is a dipshit."

"It feels like a low bar."

Alastair chuckled. "It really is."

Silence ensued and the presence of his boyfriend made everything brighter. Later at night, he would wonder how one man could make it so much better, yet now he just felt blessed to have Thomas by his side. A few minutes passed with Alastair closing his eyes and melting into Thomas's hug, while Thomas stroked his back comfortingly.

"Alastair?"

"Mhh."

"Alastair. "

He dug his fingers at the cool ground, taking a deep breath in an attempt to regain his composure. "What?"

He pushed Alastair back gently, and the short boy complied so they were face to face. "Are you alright?"

His dark eyes refused to meet with Thomas's hazel ones. There had been a quiet, "I'm not sure."

Thomas picked at a loose string of his hoodie, and Alastair made a mental note to steal his boyfriend's hoodie and sew it. He sat next to Thomas and reached for the beer, gulping the content of the can. He turned to Thomas, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He furrowed his brows when his boyfriend looked at him oddly, but it soon disappeared from Thomas's face.

Alastair fiddled with the hem of his shirt, and his eyes were yet low on the ground. He sounded rustling by his side and glanced at his boyfriend as he took off his hoodie. Alastair cocked his eyebrow, and Thomas huffed at him with flushed cheeks. He handed him the hoodie. "You - might be cold. It's rather late, and you wear nothing but a T-shirt."

He scanned Thomas's underneath jumper and deemed it not much warming. "And you?"

"I am big, I make a lot of heat. Cellular respiration and all that."

Alastair snorted, shaking his head. "You daft med student."

He found solace in the warm hug of his boyfriend. And wearing his hoodie was almost the same, although he missed the heat. Yet, it was soft and familiar and all Thomas. His smell was enticing to Alastair, and he put it on and sniffed it -indistinguishably - even if Thomas was just a few inches away.

As the sun set, it tinted the forest around them orange.

"You're doing the thing," Alastair commented, causing Thomas to blink.

"The what?" the tall boy asked.

"The thing. That you do." he poked Thomas's side. "You get all pensive and thoughtful and furrows your brows in that adorable way of yours. You caress your rose compass tattoo."

Thomas gave him a slight smile. "Genie has been ecstatic ever since Kamala agreed to join our family trip. I'm afraid my father is going to ask you himself if I won't."

"Ah."

"It's a bad timing, though," Thomas cackled nervously. "Sorry, never mind."

"That's fine, I don't care," Alastair said. "What family trip?"

"We thought to visit mom's country last year, but this year we want to visit some rural parts of England. Uncle Will keeps telling us how visiting North Wells, where his family lived. Eugenia keeps threatening to steal my sweets."

"She certainly would still all your snacks," Alastair speculated. He flapped mindlessly the sleeves of Thomas's hoodie to himself, which were too long for him. Thomas sent him a soft side smile.

"She will," agreed Thomas in false despair, resting his head on the fetch they leaned on. "She's like some sort of sweets monster. The only way to calm her down is to sacrifice our food."

"I know," was Alastair's response. "She's my friend. My very own short chaotic, havoc-causing, maniac goblin friend." It startled a laugh out of Thomas, and he went to rest his hand on Alastair's knee.

"Dad keeps joking he will cancel the trip if not all of the honorary lightwoods join as well. But honestly, I'm not sure he's joking any longer."

"Honorary Lightwoods?"

"He adopted y'all the moment you steeped a foot into our house. You know that." Thomas's voice sounded almost longing. He added, with a good laugh, "I think he favors you over his own children."

Alastair didn't know why he had to be this way, but it caught him off guard. It made a weird pang in his heart to think Gideon Lightwood would consider him his son. Even more so, when he knew his own father would prefer to engage in a foreign bar than to eat with him. Alastair's throat felt thick all of a sudden, and it was hard to breathe. He made a shaky inhale, as soft and thin as paper. Thomas captured that, of course.

"Baby," Thomas whispered. He acted cautiously, like he was afraid to scare Alastair away.

"No," Alastair chocked out. He hid his face in his elbow, struggling to take another breath. "Nope."

It was silent for at least a minute before Thomas piped out, "Alastair joon."

Abruptly, Alastair lifted his head and turned to his boyfriend, a spike of anger ignited."I should be stronger," Alastair burst out, heat in his words, like flames. "It shouldn't - why does it affect me like this? This isn't - nothing has happened, so why-" he cut himself off, watching Thomas's countenance. He was the epitome of calm, deep understanding eyes and soft around the corners. His lips were pressed, and he was utterly handsome. Ridiculous.

Thomas swooped him into a hug, and Alastair didn't accept it. He fought to break loose and jumped on his feet. Raving fear and outrage and agony all mixed together on the tip of his tongue. He felt angry at himself for reacting this way, at Thomas for having such a perfect family, at the world because there was no one to blame for his situation. "A few months ago I still searched for my father in pubs to return him home safely. Now I look for my father from the other side of the courtroom and watch him try to take away my sibling. And my mother - she wouldn't admit it but I know she's stressed. She probably can't even sleep at night without my ass of a father to haunt her! And Charles wouldn't even realize he's in the wrong, because as always, it's just my fault it all broke apart. Mine. Mine alone."

"And Charles is still a jerk, and Mâmân is still unwell, and my goddam father is the worst father of the year," Alastair gritted his teeth. "And I feel so useless. Utterly useless. because I can't do anything about it. The court will prefer my father's white ass to my brown skin. They would think he's a better fit to take care of the child, even it's crystal clear he isn't. He wasn't for us, he will never be. And this poor child - it deserves a real family. And my drunken father is nothing of what it deserves. So how can he try to get custody over it, Thomas? How can they let him? "

"Alastair," his name sang on his boyfriend's tongue was like thick syrup. "You are not useless."

The shorter man flashed at him with a growl. "I couldn't help my father with his problem. I can't help my mom in court. I can't even be a good sibling to Cordelia, so how could I be a good one to the baby-?"

He was shuddering, he perceived, even though the night wasn't very cold. Was he sobbing? he couldn't tell. It was like he felt everything detached from afar. He felt bulky arms close around him, and he didn't protest this time. He tried to catch his breath, albeit it kept escaping him.

"None of this is your fault, Azizam. Life can be unfair to fair people. But you mustn't question yourself because of it." Thomas grazed a big, warm hand on Alastair's cheek, sweeping his tears. "And your love is so profound, it can build bridges. It's so selfless and raw and pure, can't you see it? It's all your heart, all of you, aching because you want those you love to be well. And they will be well, Alastair. They can move mountains because it's you on their side. They are lucky to have you." His voice lowered to a whisper.

"This is just too much," Alastair shook his head. "I just- want to be out of my racing mind. I want some quiet."

Thomas gave him a sad look. "I can't tell you it will pass soon. But you're not alone, Alastair. You have many people to hold you when you feel you're about to fall. All you have to do is look."

They set there in their hideout, and Thomas leaned in and left a gentle kiss on Alastair's lips. A promise.

Alastair tilted his head and closed his eyes. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"If anything, it's the opposite. You're spectacular," Thomas leaned in again, so their foreheads and noses touch. It startled a bubbled giggle out of Alastair, and Thomas smirked. He repeated it again and again and again. Until Alastair started to believe his words.

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

I’ve never seen a de aged NHS or NMJ fic, and I’d really like too see how you write one (especially if it’s one where young NHS is transported too the present, and old NHS is transported to the past, before his brother dies OR after!)

“Sometimes,” Wei Wuxian said, when it’s late at night and they’re really drunk and he’s been whining up a storm over nonsense to the point that even Nie Huaisang, master of whining, asked him why, “sometimes it’s just - when I’m feeling really spoiled, I go back to being, y’know, like a little kid. Five, or three.”

Jiang Cheng just huffed, clearly already used to the idea, clearly acting like Wei Wuxian’s just stating the obvious, but Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide.

“You do?” he asked, jaw dropping open into what he knew was an unseemly sort of gaping motion, like a fish, but in his defense – “I’ve never met anyone else who does that!”

Wei Wuxian squinted at him. “‘Else’? You mean you do it too?”

“Yeah! Though I don’t go back that far – just to age seven or so.”

He was rounding up a little, but mostly seven didn’t sound as good.

“Seven’s better than three,” Jiang Cheng opined. He was sprawled out on his stomach, looking like he was contemplating taking an extra helping from their snack pile. He probably didn’t go little at all, the bastard. “You can feed yourself when you’re seven. This asshole here –” He meant Wei Wuxian. “– needs spoon-feeding.”

Wei Wuxian reached over and hit up upside the head, but didn’t deny it.

Nie Huaisang giggled. “Yeah, eating is fine,” he said. “I mostly just need a lot of hugs and stuff, to help me calm down and feel better. My da-ge gives the best hugs.”

“I think I’d be too scared to try it,” Wei Wuxian said, though he looked wistful. Even a little jealous.

He should be. Da-ge’s hugs were the best hugs.

“I know I’d be too scared,” Jiang Cheng interjected. “Even at the age I currently am.”

“Well, he’s not your da-ge, is he?” Nie Huaisang said haughtily.

“I can’t even imagine him giving hugs,” Jiang Cheng said, rolling over onto his back. “He’s just – you know?”

“Tall? Strong? Terrifying?” Wei Wuxian suggested, then sighed. Wistful again. “I can imagine it, no problem. He must give great hugs. He’s got arms for days; it must feel so safe and secure.”

“I’ll give you the arms, I guess,” Jiang Cheng agreed, though he sounded doubtful. “I mean, he could probably pick you up.”

“Oh, definitely,” Nie Huaisang said. “Being picked up is key to a truly fantastic hug.”

Nods all around, even from Jiang Cheng.

“This is really great,” he added enthusiastically. “I didn’t think that it happened to anyone else; I thought it was just me! Da-ge’s always really strict about me not letting anyone else know…and it’s not like it’s all the time, you know? Just sometimes. When it’s safe.”

When he was feeling sick-to-his-stomach stressed, followed by a moment of sheer intense relief – and when his brother was around, of course. He couldn’t feel safe if his brother wasn’t around.

“Just sometimes,” Wei Wuxian agreed. “Just like I mostly do it when my shijie is there, she’s really comforting to. I don’t know why you’d have to keep it a secret, though. It’s not really that embarrassing.”

Jiang Cheng huffed. “Says you.”

“Da-ge’s always worried someone will try to use it against me,” Nie Huaisang confessed.

“Well, we won’t,” Jiang Cheng promised him, and Wei Wuxian nodded along as well, and really, Nie Huaisang could just start crying with how nice it felt to have people who understood.

“Maybe I’ll come find you guys next time, if you’re ever in Qinghe when it happens,” he said, wiping his eyes. “I can talk to da-ge; he can give you guys hugs, too.”

“You know who I really want hugs from?” Wei Wuxian said, a mischievous light in his eyes. “Lan Zhan! I bet he –”

“Don’t say his name! He’ll appear!”

“No, he won’t, he – oh! Uh! Hi! Lan Zhan, we were – uh…”

Lan Wangji glared at them.

Nie Huaisang tried to hide behind something, misjudged, and fell over straight onto his face.

Ouch.

“– not allowed in the Cloud Recesses!”

Da-ge’s going to kill me, he thought miserably, and stopped thinking about any of it.

He didn’t think much more about that conversation at all, in fact, not through their entire adventure with Wen Qing and the scary goddess statute, not with Xue Yang and the massacre and the battle there, not up until he made it home and they had a big banquet and everything was really great and he was home and calm and everything was fine –

Yeah, he probably should’ve been able to call what happened next.

He crawled into his brother’s bed.

“Hmm? Oh, Huaisang,” his brother said, waking up with a start and calming at the sight of him, and then he sighed. “I thought you’d started getting over this.”

“Uh-uh,” he said, even though he’d started wondering himself. It’d been a while. “Gimme a hug.”

His brother pulled him close – and truly, no one in the world gave hugs like his da-ge did. “Don’t go running around too much in the morning,” he said, already falling back asleep. “We have guests.”

Naturally, the next morning, Nie Huaisang woke up first, full of energy and pep – he was seven, after all (nearly), and they were far more excitable than either seventeen-year-olds or twenty-five-year-olds – and that’s about when he remembered that for once he didn’t have to worry about hiding away from their guests because his guests were like him. They got little, too.

“What the fuck,” Wei Wuxian shouted when Nie Huaisang jumped on his bed. “Who the fuck?!”

Nie Huaisang laughed at him. “It’s me, Wei-xiong!” he said happily, waving his arms around. His sleeves were always too long when he went little – his brother insisted that he wear something loose enough that he wouldn’t hurt himself if suddenly went big again – and it was a little funny to see Wei Wuxian from this angle; it made him all big and gangly. “I know your shijie’s not here and all, but it’s very nice; do you want to go little? If you’re five, da-ge will definitely give you a hug!”

Wei Wuxian stared at him. “Nie…Huaisang?”

His voice was wrong – all weird and strangled – and Nie Huaisang started to have that awful itchy feeling that he’d done something wrong.

He knew it was possible, he often did the wrong thing, and he was even more liable to make mistakes when he’d regressed back to being seven than he normally did. His brother said that it wasn’t his fault, since after all having the same memories as his grown-up self didn’t actually mean that he could process all of them the same way – his brain was seven again, after all, and sometimes he couldn’t quite parse the big feelings and complex thoughts that grown-up him had - but he still felt bad about it when it happened.

It felt like he’d made a mistake now.

But he’d been so sure that his older self had talked it over with Wei Wuxian, and that Wei Wuxian had said he was like him. So why was he acting so surprised all of a sudden?

Nie Huaisang started fidgeting with his sleeves the way he did when he was anxious, his breath starting to come fast. “Wei-xiong,” he said, biting his lip. “You’re little sometimes, like me, right? You said…didn’t you say?”

“I –” Wei Wuxian started to say, then stopped and wet his lips. “Nie-xiong…er...Nie-didi...”

The door open and Nie Huaisang’s brother strode in, his face black with rage. Nie Huaisang, distressed, immediately scrambled off the bed to throw himself at him, to clutch at him and press his face into his robes as if it would hide his shame and embarrassment.

He really hadn’t meant to make such an awful mistake. He really hadn’t, honest!

“Wei-gongzi,” his brother said, voice stiff.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Wei Wuxian blurted out. His eyes were still fixed on Nie Huaisang. “I won’t, I promise – it’s not his fault. Really. When we were at the Cloud Recesses, I told him that sometimes I like to be a kid, with my shijie, and he thought – he must have thought –”

“He assumed you were not referring to merely playacting,” Nie Mingjue said. His voice was heavy, but a little less imminently violent; it was a good thing that Wei Wuxian had started by saying he wouldn’t tell.

“He’s a child,” Wei Wuxian said. His voice was awed. “He’s – he’s actually a child again. He’s small and – and cute – his cheeks are so chubby –”

Nie Huaisang could feel his brother starting to soften a little – he’d always liked it when people complimented Nie Huaisang – and he decided to press his luck, tugging on his brother’s robes and standing up high on his tip-toes in a silent plea that his brother acceded to, reaching down and picking him up in his arms. The best place in the world to be.

“I told Wei-xiong that your hugs are the best, da-ge,” he whispered in his brother’s ear, his own arms looped around his brother’s neck. “’cause they are.”

His brother sighed a little.

“He’s seven, right?” Wei Wuxian said. “He said – age seven. Is there a reason it’s seven?”

Nie Huaisang buried his face into his brother’s neck.

“When our father died,” his brother said.

“Oh,” Wei Wuxian said, and his voice was suddenly awkward. “I’m – sorry. But…how? He’s obviously been both physically and mentally transformed, although his memories still seem intact…”

“The details aren’t important,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said firmly. “What’s important is that you understand that no one can know.”

“Of course,” Wei Wuxian said at once. “I can’t even imagine – if the Wen sect found out –”

“They can never know.”

“Never. I promise.”

“Good,” Nie Huaisang’s brother said with satisfaction. Then, a moment later, “Is there something you want to say?”

Nie Huaisang looked up to see Wei Wuxian biting his lower lip. “No,” he said. “It’s – no, it’s nothing.”

“Just say it.” Nie Huaisang’s brother had never had much time for nonsense. “You’ve seen our secrets; you can trust me that whatever you say, I won’t judge.”

Wei Wuxian still hesitated for a moment longer, but another glare from his brother got him to finally blurt out, “Could I have a hug?”

A long moment of silence, that eventually Nie Huaisang broke with a giggle. “See, da-ge,” he said. “I told you your hugs are the best!”

“Never mind,” Wei Wuxian said, his face bright red. “It’s stupid, I don’t –”

Nie Huaisang’s brother sighed, a sharp exhale, and went over to the bed, still balancing Nie Huaisang on his hip. He sat down and wrapped his other arm around Wei Wuxian, pulling him in tight. “And what do you like to be called?”

“…A-Xian,” Wei Wuxian mumbled, pressing his cheek against Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “Call me A-Xian.”

#mdzs #nie huaisang #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #my fic #my fics #Anonymous

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yhwhsdaughter · 3 years

Text

Wife material

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕁𝕚𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕪𝕒

Requested by @iwannabeacowboahbaybee: Would you be comfortable writing a Jiraiya x reader where the reader pretends to be his wife for a mission. Then during the mission he realizes he actually would not mind settling down on with someone? Maybe the reader 👀? Please let me know if you’re not comfortable with this idea! Thank you ❤️❤️❤️

so this will be younger Jiraiya before the snake thot defected and all that

“Haah? You want me to be your what?”

You were enjoying the day, lounging in a hammock, reading a book when you were approached by Jiraiya.

Apparently he needed to infiltrate a village under the guise of a feudal lord. He’d been comisioned to pose as said person and obtain information crucial to the ongoing war between the two lands. The only problem was that the feudal lord was married.

“So? Can’t you hire someone? What about Tsunade?”

Jiraiya didn’t think it would be this hard to reclute you. The two of you had been friends for the longest time, so why were you being so apprehensive? “We don’t have chemistry. She’d probably punch me if I touched her and ruin the mission.”

You continued reading, making a face of understanding when he mentioned that. It did sound like something Tsunade would do. “If I hired a woman, it would take too long to fill her in. Plus, they’re not shinobi.”

“Neither am I.”

Jiraiya was getting exasperated. While not a shinobi, you practiced taijutsu so you were capable of protecting yourself.

“What about Orochimaru?” He was a talented ninja, skilled enough to take another figure if he desired. At the mention of his teammate, Jiraya shuddered. “Don’t even mention it.”

He sighed. “Please (Name), I need you.”

Hearing his pleas, you put your book down. Your face felt hot. “Stop begging, it’s unlike you. I’ll do it.”

The white haired nin had to use a transformation jutsu but you didn’t. Unlike your usual attire, you had to do wear elegant robes fit for a feudal lord’s wife. You donned them well, bringing out your best features.

“They’re uncomfortable.”

You weren’t used to so many layers wrapped around your figure. Jiraiya looked you over, “Fits you really—” his words died in his mouth when you jabbed his side. Looking at Jiraiya, it was weird seeing him as someone else. He too, was dressed differently than his normal outfit.

“I like you better as yourself.”

“That so?” you looked away from his analyzing eyes, “Don’t let it get to your head.”

The ride was rather boring.

Since it was going to be a long journey, you stopped at place for the night. Seeing as the two of you were ‘married’ it meant sharing a bed. It wasn’t a new concept to the both of you, having had many sleepovers during your teenager years. However, this time it was different.

The annoying white haired kid you once knew had become a man that you deeply desired. Though you’d never voice it, you would do anything for him. But Jiraiya didn’t belong to anyone. He was a ladies man; he couldn’t be tied down.

Getting into bed, you prayed that Jiraiya wouldn’t sense your racing heart. Too late. You felt yourself being pulled into the arms of your companion. “Oh?? Are you nervous (Name)?”

His heart, too, couldn’t sit still so you retorted, “Shut up. Yours is also beating fast.”

Jiraiya fell silent but did not release you.

No, he longed to hold you this close since you first smiled at him. Jiraiya had gotten his ass beat in practice pulling him into a bad mood.

You found him sulking. “Stop pouting. What are you, a child?” He didn’t respond to your teasing as he normally would. You poked him with a stick. “Oi.”

“What can I do to cheer you up..” you wondered aloud.

Hearing this, Jiraiya got a devious look on his face. “I want you to smile for me.” Seemingly surprised by this, you moved backwards, eyes wide. Jiraiya thought you wouldn’t do it. He knew you to be a serious girl, after being orphaned, so it wasn’t often that you smiled freely like the rest.

Jiraiya didn’t realize this back then, but you were happy to smile for him. Despite you insisting that he was a dummy, Jiraiya always found a way to brighten your day. What kind of friend would you be if you didn’t return the favor?

Smiling for Jiraiya, he felt his little heart beat faster, almost stop, before settling down. The sun held nothing to the warmth of your smile. He decided then that he would always love you.

Arriving to the village, important political figures of the land met at the imperial garden for a picnic. They’d all brought their families to discuss and celebrate.

One of your hands held onto Jiraiya’s arms, linking hands together, bodies pressed together. The wedding bands brushed against each other. Though you felt blissful your eyes scanned the area without trying to look suspicious.

You figured Jiraiya would join the men. Instead, he led you downwards. The white haired nin placed his head on your lap, closing his eyes. Had it not been for those present, you would’ve thrown him off.

Feeling awkward, you began to play with his hair. If it was possible, Jiraiya snuggled closer, freezing you. “You’re enjoying this a little too much aren’t you?”

“Not my fault you’re comfortable.”

By now, most of the wives, husbands, and children had moved to the other side of the garden. Jiraiya nudged you, making you lean down to hear him better. He whispered in your ear, his breath tickling your skin.

“Everyone’s gone. We should use this chance to consummate our marria-ACK!”

Pushing him, Jiraiya landed face first onto the grass before you mounted him to slap his dirty thoughts away. “You’re—on a mission— stop it!”

The best he could do was grab at your hands. Some of the guests must have heard the commotion because they peaked in to see you straddling Jiraya.

Distracted, you lost your balance. Jiraiya’s hands gripped your hips tightly to help but it only looked worse. The position, your red face, Jiraiya’s smug smile was all they needed to know before leaving the area again.

“Pardon the interruption!” “We’ll leave you now!”

You couldn’t even explain. Shooting your partner a glare, Jiraiya quietly explained that he needed to make a distraction so one of his toads could steal a scroll. “It was the only way to rile you up!”

“My ass-!” He could’ve just asked and you would have gone along with the plan.

“Yeah it’s very nice 👍 ”

Jiraiya hurried to meet the other men before you actually strangled him. It was boring but he payed close attention to every word that came out of their old mouths.

One of the leaders glanced at something, causing the rest to follow. It was you comforting a crying child.

You never imagined having kids, but you had an innate talent for calming them down. The little girl stopped crying, giving you a smile which you returned. It was a sweet scene, kind of dazzling in its own way. Those around couldn’t help but be affected and attracted.

“You got a good one feudal lord.” “Yes. I’d take her if she wasn’t married to you.”

Jiraiya laughed amicably but on the inside he was fuming. It was one thing for him to tease you, his life long friend and another for these old farts to ogle at you.

Sensing their states, you turned. Your eyes instantly became colder, sending shivers down their spines as if you knew what they were saying.

As the mission was complete; Jiraiya had extracted all the information he could, he transformed back.

Everyone, including you, stared at him with saucer eyes. You were confused. He wasn’t supposed to reveal his identity at all?? A bodyguard, figuring it out, jumped to attack but you kicked him away.

A fight ensued.

Jiraiya got the chance to use his abilities freely. By the end, every threat was down. You looked exhausted, it was difficult to fight in a long ceremonial robe. Not to mention that Jiraiya’s toads had made a mess. “Did... did you have to go all out?”

He didn’t.

The reason why Jiraiya went through all this trouble was to get back at those men for speaking too intimately of you. But, you didn’t need to know that so he gave you a shameless grin.

“Ugh. You’re so troublesome you know that?”

“But you love me~”

Things went back to normal when you returned to Konoha. You kept the ring, not taking it off and staring at it from all kinds of angles. It was fitting. Jiraiya did the same, which caused some comments from Orochimaru. Oh boy.

At night, you both missed the warmth of each other.

It took a while for Jiraiya to realize that he wouldn’t mind settling with you. Even if you didn’t want marriage, he would be happy just to be at your side. To sleep next to you for as long as he lived. Deciding it was time to say this, he ran to your house.

You laid in bed, bored. Your thoughts eventually led you to reminisce on the mission. Wife. Jiraiya’s wife. Wife of Jiraiya? You voiced it aloud, trying to decided which one sounded better. “Aaagh! It’s no use!” It was best to take a walk to clear your head.

Opening the door, something hit your forehead a bit hard. You nearly stumbled back, “Ow!” Jiraiya blinked in surprise. “Oh! My bad.”

You opened one eye, “Jiraiya it’s you.. I was— come in.”

It was aaaaawkward.

Jiraiya sat in front of you, silent. You stated at him, wondering why he showed up. He merely toyed with the glass of water you’d offered. You bit your lip anxiously. It was your chance to confess.

“So about the mission—”

“I want you—“

Both of you stopped midsentence. Jiraiya cleared his throat. “I want to settle with you. Marriage, kids, living together.. whatever you want. As long as I can be with you.”

You could not help your excitement. “I want that too!!”

“I mean, it’s whatever. Yeah I could live with you and stuff...”

The white haired nin couldn’t help but laugh.

He loved you.

And you loved him.

#naruto #jiraiya x reader #jiraiya x you #naruto jiraiya

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bruhstories · 3 years

Text

Good Night’s Sleep

Summary: Bucky joined the Avengers and Y/N gives him a warm welcome. Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Avenger!Bucky AU) Warnings: (oh boy, this is gonna be a lot of warnings) language, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex, slight masochist!Reader - you know what, it’s a filthy, shameless smut, you get the idea Word Count: 2287

A/N: just fuck me up man, just give me my own personal Bucky

Bucky had gladly been accepted into the Avengers initiative after the effects of his brainwashing have been reversed. Tony's been keeping an eye on him, not trusting the assassin yet. Nat, Clint and Sam were more than happy to have a new teammate and, in the case of Steve, an old friend back, while Bruce and Thor were seemingly indifferent to him. And then there was Y/N, the woman who got under his skin, the woman who got his attention the moment he stepped in the Avengers Tower. She captivated him in every aspect, with her radiant smile and her positive attitude. She was so pure and outgoing, with a laughter that was so sweet it made him forget his crimes. Bucky was lovestruck by her, but his feelings didn't seem to be reciprocated. Sam picked up on Bucky's little crush and made it his goal to annoy him, while Nat told him to lower his standards because she was way out his league. Y/N was a new member as well, she joined the Avengers a bit sooner than Barnes, when S.H.I.E.L.D. was called in for several bank robberies. At first, Fury didn't want to bother with meaningless robberies, until he found out that the criminal was never detected by the cameras or the security guards. She was like a ghost and they found out why when they caught her - Y/N could turn invisible and pass through almost any kind of material. They set up a trap, caught her and invited her to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and ultimately, the Avengers. She accepted gladly, her optimistic and good nature conflicting with a life of stealing and robberies. But she had to do what she could to survive.

And Bucky was smitten.

Unlike Steve, who'd found love in Peggy, Bucky never experienced falling in love. Sure, he slept around, girls threw themselves at his feet back in the day, even now, but he didn't want any other girl, he wanted her, and she wasn't an easy prey. Some nights he couldn't sleep because of her. He dreamt of her, in positions she'd probably never experienced, he wondered if she was a virgin. She seemed like a virgin. That very thought would keep him up until the morning. He wanted to take that away from her, he wanted to break her. But then, he'd feel guilty. Still, he imagined her, sprawled on his bed, moaning and begging for more. Cock in his hand, he wondered what were her kinks, wondered how she'd look with his hand around her throat - she would call him all kinds of things: daddy, sir, master. That was his breaking point, that was what made him climax. Bucky groaned, desperate to feel her under his touch but knowing he could never have her. The assassin washed his hands and left his bedroom. He needed a drink and Stark had plenty of those.

Inside the lounge room, Y/N watched a movie. It was very late, but she couldn't sleep. Startled by the door swung open, she peeked over the blanket and saw a very tense Bucky. Unbothered by the TV, he made his way straight to the bar and poured himself a glass of whiskey. He downed it, shrugged and took the bottle with him. "You okay?" A sickly sweet voice asked before he could leave. The man felt a shiver run down his spine and his blood cold. "Bucky? It's 3 in the morning. Are you alright?" Y/N asked again. "I'm fine." He finally said. He wanted to leave, really, but his body couldn't move anymore. "Are you troubled by nightmares?" "Sort of." He wasn't lying, technically, he was awake because of his dreams. They just weren't nightmares, even though he wished they were. "You can sit with me if you want. I can't sleep because of nightmares either..." She confessed.

Fuck fuck fuck.

As if on autopilot, his body moved towards the couch and sat down after Y/N moved over. She handed him a part of her blanket and they both sat in silence. He was afraid to even accidentally touch her, let alone do it intentionally. "Drink?" Bucky offered her the bottle. "Sure, why not." The woman shrugged. Their fingers touched when she took the bottle and Bucky shivered once more. She noticed and clicked her tongue. "Do you have a problem with me?" Y/N abruptly asked him. "What? No!" The man cluelessly tried to assure her. "Then why do you act so cold around me? I thought it's because I'm a girl but you don't have this problem with Nat. Have I done something?"

Yeah, you exist.

"No, doll, I've met Nat before. I guess I'm not used to being part of a team and meeting new peop-" "Bullshit." Y/N cut him off. "You didn't know the others either yet when you're around me you always seem so tense." "Alright, you caught me. I've never been around such a beautiful woman." Bucky half-confessed. That seemed to shut her up. "Oh." She replied, blood rushing in her cheeks. "I didn't think you'd consider me pretty." "Beautiful." He whispered. "What?" "Nothing." "See? You're doing it again!" Y/N pouted and folded her arms across her chest, visibly upset by his attitude. Bucky shook his head and took the bottle from her. "Just because you think I'm pretty doesn't mean you can't talk to me!" "I didn't say pretty, I said beautiful." The man rolled his icy blue eyes and took some sips of whiskey. "Pretty, beautiful, whatever. It's not an excuse!" "It is when it's driving me insane! You probably have no idea how tormented I am by you, by your Y/E/C eyes, your smile, your voice! That's what's keeping me up at night, Y/N, that's why I haven't had a single good night's sleep since I came here." Bucky confessed a bit too much. Doe eyes gazed into his. Y/N bit her lower lip. She was a virgin, yes, but she couldn't deny the fact that she wanted to be ravaged by him, because she felt the same way since she met him. "I'm sorry. Shit, I'm so sorry-" Bucky was beginning to apologise. "Do you dream of fucking me?" The woman took him completely by surprise. "Wh- I- what?" The assassin sipped more of the whiskey, avoiding her question. "Do you want to fuck me?" She asked again. "What am I supposed to answer?" "It's a simple yes or no question. For example," Y/N leaned closer to him, "if you were to ask me this question, I'd say yes."

Fuck fuck FUCK.

Bucky felt his heart rate go higher. Not to mention he felt his bulge growing. "Fuck yes." He whispered, his lips almost touching her. "Then fuck me." She crushed his lips in a sloppy kiss. Bucky kissed back, he kissed her back with so much hunger for her touch that he bit her lip, small droplets of blood running down her skin. "Y/N, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you." The man pulled back. "I do." Y/N licked the blood. "I want you to hurt me. I don't want you holding back." "Aren't you... a virgin?" Bucky sighed. "I am. But I don't want to be one anymore. And I want you." She removed the blanket, her nipples protruding through her white tank top. "Please... please have me." Y/N begged the man. "Jesus, I won't be able to stop myself if you keep begging like that." He kissed her again, his metallic arm holding her neck. His other hand slid under the tank top, cupping one of her breasts. She moaned under his touch pulling his body closer to her. "I don't want you to stop." Y/N managed between kisses. That was enough to drive Bucky mad with lust. He moved from kissing her lips to kissing her neck and collar. "You know it's gonna hurt, right?" He asked her.

She nodded and removed her tank top, revealing her perfectly round breasts. Bucky did the same, and Y/N took a moment to admire his chiseled body. Hastily, she removed the rest of her clothing, ready for his cock, but Bucky had other plans. He buried his head between her thighs and ever so slowly licked her clit. She was already so fucking wet, but he wanted to make sure his cock would slip in easily. "Oh my God! This feels so good!" Y/N yelled and Bucky laughed, the vibrations from his laughter sending more small shock waves through her body. "You're gonna gave to be a good girl and keep quiet." Bucky told her before inserting a finger between her folds. The new sensation was shocking at first, but she quickly grew accustomed to it, only moaning in pleasure. Another finger entered her and Y/N threw her head back, but still wanting more. "Bucky, please... I need- ah!" "What do you need, doll?" He sneered, lazily licking her clit. "I need you!!" She breathed. "Y'already have me. Be more specific." Bucky corrected her, painstakingly slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of her wet pussy. "Oh, please, don't make me say it..." The woman innocently whimpered. "You have to earn it. If not, I can stop-" "N-no, don't stop! Please, Bucky, I want your cock!" Y/N shut her eyes and bit her lip in embarrassment. He stopped, removed his shorts and hovered over her. "Open your eyes, Y/N. There's nothing to be ashamed of." The man assured her before rubbing her clit with the tip of his hard member, droplets of precum leaking from it. "Are you sure you want this?" "Yes, yes! Please fuck me, make me yours!"

With her pleas echoing inside his head, Bucky slowly slid half of his cock inside of her, the stretching sensation making Y/N writhing in pain. He stopped, but she dug her nails into his skin. "Don't you dare stop, Bucky! I told you not to hold back!" She slowly moved her hips closer to his. The man obeyed, and with one swift thrust, he was in her. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, not allowing him to pull back, and tightly gripped his shoulders with her thin fingers. Bucky started moving. The moans that escaped from her lips turned into sobs, but for some sick, dark reason Bucky liked it. The problem was that she liked it, too. She liked the pain. "Harder!" Y/N almost ordered him, surprising the assassin again, but he gladly thrusted harder. In a very short time, the woman got used to the feeling of his cock inside of her and they found a good pace. "Fuck, you're so tight... You like it, doll?" Bucky whispered in her ear before nibbling at her earlobe. "I fucking love it!" She moaned, her Y/E/C eyes rolling with lust. The pain slowly dissipated, replaced only by pleasure. The assassin's metallic arm covered her mouth, not wanting her screams to wake the other Avengers up, and the gesture only turned her on more. In their frenzy, Bucky realised he was close to his orgasm. He didn't want to cum in her, so he quickly pulled out, earning only protests out of Y/N. "Shit, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." As if he just said a magic word, the woman got up from the couch and kneeled in between his legs. "Wait, what are you doing?" "I wanna suck your dick..." She whispered seductively, her innocent eyes gazing into his. Bucky nodded, bracing himself for the feeling of her hot mouth around his cock. The woman licked her lips and sucked the tip of his member, slowly moving down his shaft. He couldn't stop the moan that escaped him and Y/N grinned as she picked up the pace. "Faster, fuck, suck it faster!" Bucky ordered her, feeling his climax closer. She bobbed her head up and down when suddenly he grabbed her head and held it in place. Hot liquid shot from his cock and Y/N swallowed it eagerly before he removed the softening member out of her wet mouth. "Your turn." The assassin sneered and swiftly picked her up, placing her on the coffee table in fron of the couch. He spread her legs and ate her out, intoxicated by the sweet smell of her. It didn't take him long to finish her off, her legs shaking from her orgasm, juices dripping down her ass. Bucky wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and rested his back on the couch. Y/N, still on the table, whimpered and moan, still amazed by how good that was. "W-was that just like in your dreams?" The woman mewled trying to get up. "So much better. I just didn't expect you to be..." "Be what?" She asked with a smile, flipping her Y/H/C hair back. "A dirty slut." Bucky chuckled. She responded by blushing and hiding her face behind her palms. "Really? You're still embarrassed after this?" "I'm sorry, I didn't think you'd say that." The man gently grabbed her hands and looked her in the eye. "You better get used to it, doll, 'cause I'm never letting you go." He kissed her on the forehead.

They walked to the dormitories, with Y/N holding onto him, her legs wobbling from the effort. "Hey, um, do you wanna sleep with me? Just sleeping, no sex." She asked. Bucky nodded and entered her room. It was the first time he ever went inside her room and he got a feeling of comfort from it, despite being almost identical to his. Y/N dragged herself to bed, followed by him. She rested her head on his chest and immediately fell asleep. Bucky lazily brushed her hair with his fingers before dozing off. Finally, he'd have a good sleep.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #mcu fanfic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot #bucky smut

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jossambird · 4 years

Text

Succubus in the Night

Another Prompt for a special someone! Use of She/Her pronouns, NSFW featuring our Boi Oscar!

You had done multiple sleepovers at your friends houses in your childhood, and they were always fun, talking about cute boys and cute girls, crushing on the hottest teacher, talking about whatever came to your teenage minds at the time.

Now, as you lay on Oscar’s bed, it felt all too different while adult, your cheeks heating dangerously. Ever the gentleman, he had forgone his own bed to let you sleep in, instead taking the sofa in the living room. He didn’t even complain, only smiling that decadent smile of his, winking as Otto pushing him away from you playfully.

His brothers were always respectful, chastising their brother for being too much as a flirt when in front of you, always watching out for you when Oscar was away. You remembered the way Axel smiled once when you had asked him about it, his eyes showing that they were hiding something, only replying that he didn’t mind, because you were Oscar’s ‘little friend.’

You always called poppycock because you were their friend as well, but Axel and Otto never replied when you did, only smiling.

Oscar was always a flirt, leaning close to speak to you, hand on the small of your back when you walked together in crowded areas, always close when strange men came up to you, saving you.

You sighed, hand trailing on his cotton sheets, eyes closing as you tried to imagine how he slept at night, what position he liked-

No, not this again. A shiver rose on your naked skin anyway, a heat building in your lower abdomen as your brain spiralled again into dirty thoughts.

It was painfully dangerous, to be in love with one’s friend, one’s best friend, even. Nothing good would come of it, you knew it. Oscar wasn’t interested in you, he was simply a flirt. Because how could he be, when women threw themselves at him every time you went out? Or every time he went out alone, complaining about women always asking him for his number?

You rolled over once more, looking at the draped window. It was still dark out, making you sigh even more as you accepted the fact you wouldnt be sleeping a wink tonight, your body too turned on by your sleeping situation.

Standing, you simply put on your joggings and shirt quietly, figuring all of the Swedish brothers were asleep, hearing Otto and Axel’s snores coming from their respective rooms down the hall. You stood at the door, debating if it really was a good idea to walk through their house, but decided for it, telling yourself it was only for a glass of water.

It was quiet, well, as quiet could be with the two eldest brothers snores, making you smile a bit. You made your way towards the kitchen, footfalls quiet and careful, avoiding with expertise each creaking floor board that you could remember.

The joint kitchen/living room came into view, noticing that the sofa had been moved, the high back of it facing the kitchen. Of course, Oscar must have moved it to avoid the light that would surely fall upon his face once morning came.

No noise came from the sofa, he was most likely sleeping deeply, thinking of-

Glass of water, right.

You moved softly, happy as you creeped to the sink, smiling to yourself at your astonishing success-

A groan came from the sofa, soft and rough, freezing you in your spot. Was he dreaming? Most likely-

Another came, this time louder but still soft, as if he was muffling-

“Y/N...” Oscar moaned, the exquisite heat in your stomach coiling deeper, making you regret ever stepping foot outside of his room. Was he truly calling you? That couldn’t be, his voice was way too-

You tried to get away, away from his divine voice, and stumbled against a chair, the noise of the metal ricochetting against the walls, making you die inside as Oscar gasped, revealing your presence.

Oscar sat up, head popping up from behind the sofa’s back, eyes wide as he looked at you, practically panting. Oh god, he looked disheveled, the image making your insides burn more.

“Y/N- what are you-“ He tried, watching as you hid your eyes. His own traveled down your beautiful face, noticing with a quiet moan how your shirt hugged your chest, leaving little to the imagination.

He watched you point to the hallway with your free hand, trying to inch away from him and back to his room, embarrassed and humiliated to have scared him while he was... occupied.

Oscar smirked and pulled his blanket over his hips, hiding his erection that he had been stroking not even moments ago to a fantasy involving you.

“Come here, I was calling for you.” He said quietly as his cheeks burned, heart thudding hard against his breast, definitely not wanting either of his brothers to walk in on what he was going to do…

He loved the way you hesitated, your hand still over your eyes as you made your way over to him at the foot of the sofa, granting him a better look of your hard nipples against your shirt.

“Look, Oscar, I-“ you squeaked, the words dying in your throat as Oscar leaned forward and pulled you down onto him, the thin blanket leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, feeling his erection hard against your thigh.

Legs tangled with yours as you laid ontop of him, face pressed against his neck chest, his hard pectorals soft and hot, or was that your face blazing?

A moment passed, your breathing erratic as you tried to figure out what was happening, how did you end up here, breasts pressed up against him, his hips gyrating against your own-

A moan escaped from between your lips, the sound making Oscar reach out and lay a hand against your ass, kneading your flesh as the other wound around your back, carding through your hair.

“So so beautiful Y/N, so hot and smart. I couldn't sleep, knowing you were in my bed, ugh-“ Oscar whispered before moaning, biting his lip to keep quiet.

His words made you burn, the shame of your embarrassment forgotten at his admission. He had been thinking about you too, thinking of you in his bed, jerking off to the thought of it before you interrupted him...

You smirked and lifted yourself off his chest, his hands softly helping you as you sat directly ontop of his hard cock, watching with delight how he bit his lip, hands on your thighs.

“Are you sure? Thinking of little old me got you this hard Oscar?” You whispered, looking down at him, loving the way his pupils grew at your words, just like a cat.

“Who else?” He only replied, watching you hesitate momentarily and look away, your cheeks as heated as his.

He knew what you were thinking, you never took it seriously when he told you you were the only one for him, or when he complained of getting other women's numbers and not yours.

He sat up and wound his arms around you, leaving you no time to react before he flipped the both of you, your back now pressed into the sofa’s soft cushions.

Oscar sat on his knees between your open legs, hands rising up your skin leaving goosebumps at his touch. God was he mesmerizing, blond white hair falling infront of his electrifying eyes, looking down at you with such adoration that it made your heart beat quicker.

“Ive tried confessing more then once... if this is what you need to understand my feelings for you, Im going to fuck you raw until you do.” He whispered as he stared into your eyes, loving the way your back lifted off the sofa, granting him a lovely view of your clothed breasts.

Of course, he would never do anything without your consent, but the way, you looked at him made him hope he wasn’t imagining it all, imaging that you might reciprocate his love for you.

The image of you now, under him and panting, face red and hands crawling up to intertwine with his own, it would forever be ingrained in his memory, no matter what happened after tonight.

He finally leaned forward and kissed you, lips crashing against your own as he held your face between his hands, the noises escaping you making him grow more eager and confident, pulling back to bite your lower lip.

“Shhh Y/N, I don't want anyone else to hear your sounds except me, okay?” Oscar said against your cheek, kissing you as you nodded, smirking against his lips.

This side of him was truly making you wet, and suddenly you remembered how you had forgone your panties when you had dressed. It would be the perfect surprise...

“Are you going to fuck me raw or not Oscar?” You whispered, loving the way he smirked back at you and pulled away, hands rising from your hips to reach up and help you throw your shirt to the ground.

You didn’t hesitate, hands traveling down to remove your joggings, loving the way he groaned at the sight of your nakedness.

“Älsking, did you have this planned? To come seduce me?” He whispered, lips finding their way to your chest, licking your skin in such a reverent way.

You never answered, mewling into his shoulder as you held him close, fingers teasing your entrance.

“You like this, do you Y/N?” He whispered against your hair, free arm holding himself up, while the other fingered you.

Never in his life had he been as turned on then in this very moment, listening to you mumble out pleas for him to fuck you, your soft thighs wrapped around his hips and legs.

“Oscar, I need you please, I want this, I want you..” You bit out, nails trailing against his back, a delicious shudder running up his spine at the action.

In seconds, he withdrew his fingers and held your thighs with a hard grip, positioning himself against you, watching for any signs of discomfort.

He pushed into your wet heat, adoring how you closed your eyes, mouth wide as he continued, hands gripping the cushions under you.

“Mhh so tight Y/N, you take me so well.” He groaned quietly, smirking as you held a hand against your mouth, hearing his brothers snores down the hall. An idea rose in his mind...

Hips pushed deeper, and started to move, creating a rhythm you hadn't anticipated, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep quiet, Oscar’s naughty fingers finding your breasts and kneading them.

“Shh shh shh älskling, only for me, only I can hear them.” Oscar said, biting his lip as you contracted tightly against him, feeling you already at the edge. He wondered for how long you had been in his room, wet and horny and needing his attentions.

No matter, he was here now, and he wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon, hands roaming your body in pure adoration, feeling a coiling need to make you cum hard for him, like you never had before.

You nodded, eyes opening to watch him and it was enough, his bitten lips red, cheeks flushed, pounding you so deeply that it amazed you his brothers hadn’t awoken yet. A tidal wave of emotion crashed upon you, hands reaching out for him, pulling him down in a searing kiss.

“I love you Oscar- Im going-“ you tried, his lips meeting yours again as you tensed, pleasure coursing through your veins, heart hammering against your ribs as his words resonated in your mind.

“I love you more Y/N.”

Axel walked into the living room, sun shining against the drapes, noticing Otto in the kitchen.

“Where is Oscar? Didn't he sleep-“ Axel hardly needed an answer, smirking as Otto pointed to your discarded sleep shirt on the ground.

“He finally got her. Or maybe, she finally got him.” His brother said into his coffee cup, the sound of the both of you sleeping in Oscar’s room making them smile.

#the swedes #oscar x reader #tua oscar #the swedes x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy swedes #ikea mafia #Ikea Fam #smut #tua axel #tua otto #JossamBird Fic

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hartigays · 4 years

Note

3. “It’s always been you.”

billy storms out of the apartment, seething and fighting back tears. because billy hargrove does not cry. ever. he didn’t back when he lived with neil, he didn’t after his mom left, he didn’t when he got arrested for possession and almost lost his scholarship to UCLA.

he’s not about to start now.

not because steve pretty boy harrington has to go around acting like a grade-A asshole, with his soft hair and big eyes and pouty lips, screwing everything with a goddamn pulse. no sir. billy won’t give him that luxury.

the reality is, steve has always had a thing for plowing his way through as many people as humanly possible. or so billy heard all those years ago when he’d first arrived in hawkins and started inquiring about the pretty-faced indiana boy who billy just couldn’t seem to stay away from.

but billy thought all of that was behind them. they live together, for fuck’s sake. they’d moved out to california together so billy could go to school, and so steve could take a position at one of the offices of his father’s company in LA. steve hasn’t been seeing anyone, billy hasn’t been seeing anyone. they’ve been happy. content.

and okay, so maybe they aren’t dating. maybe billy hasn’t exactly told steve how he feels. but, like, steve should know. billy has gone out of his way to make it glaringly obvious. steve may be oblivious, but he’s not dumb. not like everyone thinks.

billy is pretty damn sure there’s no way steve isn’t aware of how he feels.

the worst part is, billy thought steve actually felt the same. at least, he had up until today, when he walked in on steve sitting on the couch with some girl, laughing and smiling and whatever the fuck else. he’d walked out before he could see anything more, despite steve’s desperate pleas for him to come back so they could talk.

there’s nothing to talk about. billy thought steve liked him, steve doesn’t. it’s done. he just needs some time to... process it, or whatever. billy finds himself on the beach soon enough, and he slips off his shoes so he can stick his toes in the sand, plopping down with a sigh.

it’s a private beach tucked a ways away from the pier, but billy knows the owners of this plot. they don’t stay at their beach house until the winter, when they want to escape to somewhere a little warmer during the colder months. he’s pretty sure the rest of their time is spent in aspen. so for now he’s safe to sit here and think, staring out at the water as the sun sinks below the horizon.

billy has brought steve here a lot. they’ve picnicked here several times, and billy even brought steve out a once or twice to teach him how to surf before they knew that steve was irreparably bad at it. the thought makes billy’s heart squeeze, and he has to pinch himself as a reminder to not be such a pussy.

because it’s whatever that steve is into some air-headed cheerleader type with a tiny waist and hair like strands of gold. it doesn’t bother billy one bit. not at all. he Does Not Care in the slightest.

maybe if he keeps telling himself that, it’ll somehow become true.

“thought i might find you out here.”

billy doesn’t turn around at the sound of steve’s voice, keeping his eyes forward even though his stomach sinks. “congratulations, you’ve finally managed to develop critical thinking skills. let’s bust out the champagne.”

“i can go if you want me to,” steve says softly, even though billy feels him sink down onto the sand next to him, close enough that their arms brush.

billy just snorts, shrugging. “i don’t give a shit what you do, harrington.”

steve just sighs, and for a long time he doesn’t speak. out of the corner of his eye, billy can see him staring out at the sunset, looking rather forelorn. billy wishes he could turn that look into something soft, something happy, but steve has made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t have that right.

“you know, i remember the first time you took me here,” steve says finally, and billy can’t help but glance over at him. steve’s smile is warm and soft, but tinged with something like sadness. “you tried to teach me how to surf. the first time, i mean. i slipped off the board and busted my ass so hard on it you had to carry me home.”

“you suck at surfing,” billy acknowledges, nodding. “badly.”

steve huffs a soft laugh. “yeah, i do. i just remember thinking that it was still one of the best days i’ve ever had. because that was the day i knew you loved me as much as i love you.”

billy goes completely still, his heart leaping up into his throat and his eyes watering, because what the fuck? where does steve get off making an admission like that just to make billy be less upset with him?

“don’t do that,” billy says, his voice rough. “you don’t get to do that. don’t pretend like you feel the same just because you don’t want me to be pissed at you.”

“billy,” steve starts, sounding distressed. he pauses, meeting billy’s eyes and fuck, they’re filled with tears too and billy doesn’t know how he feels about that. “it’s you. it’s always been you.”

the words break something inside of billy, and he crumples. he can’t pretend to be mad anymore when the truth is that he’s devastated. plain and simple.

“you sure have a funny way of showing it,” billy tells him, sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “i saw you two. you were two seconds from playing couch twister. would’ve been if i hadn’t walked in when i did.”

“leanne is gay, billy,” steve groans, burying his face in his hands. “she works with me and she’s gay. has a nice girlfriend named annalise. they have a fucking kid. we were just- jesus, i can’t believe i even have to explain this. to you of all people. i’m the dumb one, remember? fuck. we were just going over some fucking spreadsheets. yeah, riveting stuff. super romantic.”

“i didn’t- are you fucking with me?” billy asks, because he’s starting to feel really fucking stupid and a small part of him is hoping he didn’t just throw a (rather humiliating) tantrum over nothing. “you guys were giggling. and sitting so close, i just... i thought you were making a move.”

“god, you can be more dense than me sometimes, you know that? we were giggling about you, dumbass. i told her that i liked you and she wanted to know more,” steve explains, shaking his head in disbelief. “it was just- i dunno. like two friends at a sleepover giggling about their crushes.”

“would you quit calling yourself an idiot?” billy huffs. primarily because he can’t think of anything else to say - his mind is racing too much. but also because it’s true. “this kinda proves that if anyone’s an idiot here, it’s me. i just- i don’t understand why you never said anything.”

steve is shoving his hands through the sand repeatedly, watching the sand run between his fingers. “you know i’m bi, i told you as much. i figured you were like me, or gay, or- i dunno. i just thought you weren’t ready to talk about it yet. i left the ball in your court, thinking that once you were ready, we’d, y’know. address the fucking elephant in the room.”

“the elephant being... ?” billy trails off. and he knows, but he really just wants to hear steve say it again.

steve rolls his eyes, laughing. “you know what i mean. but fine: the elephant being that i’m in love with you. and that i’m really, really hoping you love me, too.”

“i do,” billy says, his voice soft. “and i’m an idiot. i’m sorry.”

“you’re not an idiot. i probably would’ve thought the same thing if the roles were reversed and i walked in on something like that.” steve glances over at billy, giving him a tender smile. “just... next time, let’s talk to each other, yeah? i think that’ll save both of us a lot of grief.”

billy just hums, nodding his approval. they sit in comfortable silence for a little while, both still too nervous to make a move despite having just confessed their love to each other. at this point billy just finds it endearing, but he really, really wants to be closer to steve, and not just emotionally.

“i am gay, you know,” billy starts, his palms sweating, “and i really want to kiss you.”

“i know. and i think i’d like that.”

steve’s lips are soft and yielding beneath billy’s. his kisses feel exactly the way billy imagined they would - tender and sweet and a little shy, but curious. billy tries to keep it slow, not wanting to shove them into uncharted territory, but it’s only a matter of time before billy has steve’s back hitting the sand, hovering over him, their lips never breaking apart.

steve just sighs into the kiss, embracing the new position without complaint. he relaxes into the sand, one hand threading through billy’s curls, the other curling into the tufts of hair at the base of billy’s neck. it’s a kiss that billy never wants to end. but he knows there’ll be more. so much more.

“i’d say at least now we can get a cheaper apartment, but i think we’ll both still need our space every now and then,” steve says when billy pulls away, staring up a him with big eyes.

“yeah. plus it’s... ” billy trails off, his cheeks flushing bright red.

“it’s what?” steve asks, his brows coming together in confusion. “seriously, what were you going to say?”

“it’s home,” billy says gently, bracing both arms on either side of steve so he can swoop down to capture his lips again whenever he wants to. “home is wherever i’m with you, but- y’know. i like our place. it feels like us.”

“you’re such a fucking sap, oh my god,” steve laughs, but he’s smiling so brightly that billy thinks the whole beach could stay lit up for the rest of the night. “billy hargrove, secretly soft and mushy inside. who would’ve thought.”

“wasn’t, ‘til i met you,” billy tells him honestly.

and it’s true, for a long time billy hardened himself to the world, protecting himself with an armor of indifference until steve came along and melted him to his core. but billy isn’t one to complain, not when it means he gets to go to sleep and wake up to steve’s smile every day now, for the rest of his life. forever, maybe, if steve is up for that.

he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#is this a modern au? does this take place in the 80s? the world may never know #hope this is enjoyable bby!#❤️❤️❤️#harringrove #my fics #ask #gideongrace

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captainsassmanes · 4 years

Text

Just a Goodbye

My version for @pastelwitchling

“You’ve been an asshole lately. What’s going on?”

Michael froze with a fry to his lips, eyebrows knit together. “Nothing’s going on, asshole.” He tossed the fry at Max and they laughed. It had been a long road back, rebuilding their relationship but today, sitting together at the Crashdown, he felt content.

“Seriously though,” Max took a sip of his shake, eyes shifting over to watch Liz greet a new set of customers. “You’ve been more surly than usual. Snippy.”

Shrugging, Michael kept his eyes on his food. “I dunno. I guess I’ve been feeling, kind of, wound up?”

“Everything okay with Maria?”

Michael nodded, taking a bite of his burger and resisting the urge to spit it out. Everything tasted like nothing lately. “Yeah we’re fine.”

With a smirk, Max muttered, “romantic.”

The truth was something wasn’t sitting right anymore. The time he spent with Maria had always been quiet, no expectations, no fear, no nerves. He could just exist and laugh and breath. But lately it didn’t feel like enough.

“I’ve been wanting simple for a long time, you know? Someone not so tangled up in our extraterrestrial bullshit that they couldn’t just be with me. And Maria is perfect. I can just be myself. No pressure.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

Rolling his eyes, he stole Max’s shake and took a big gulp, ignoring the stink eye he got in return.

“Alex.”

“Alex?”

“Alex.”

“Why Alex? I thought you guys were friends?”

Michael scoffed, drawing designs in the green froth with the straw. “Can you just be friends with someone you love?”

“I’d never be able to be Liz’s friend after all this.” Michael looked up to witness Max’s dreamy gaze drift back to Liz who stuck her tongue out and winked back. “But I also can’t imagine not having her in my life so, I guess I don’t know…hey!”

Max wiped the milkshake Michael had flicked in his direction off his face.

“Thank you, Maxwell. Very helpful.”

“Well I don’t know! If you love Alex why the hell are you with Maria?”

“I just told you why!”

“You just told me why you decided to be with Maria in the first place. You didn’t explain why you’re still with her.”

“Oh, shut up, Deputy.”

They both chuckled and went back to their food, Michael mindlessly shoving one fry after another into his mouth while his mind raced. He thought he loved Maria; when they were alone, laughing and holding onto one another, he felt peaceful and was sure it was love. But in the rare moments he dared to compare it with his feelings for Alex…

“Write it down.”

Michael raised his eyebrows and looked around, confused. “Huh?”

“It’s how I coped when I loved Liz but couldn’t tell her. I wrote her love notes. Helped me deal for a while.”

Snorting, Michael said, “we’re not all Tolstoy, buddy.”

Tossing a fry at Michael’s forehead, Max muttered, “fuck off, I’m serious. Write him a note, explaining everything or apologizing or ending it or whatever you need.” He shrugged and took a bite of his burger. “I kept mine ‘cause, well, you know. But you could rip yours up or burn it, whatever dramatic choice you wanted to make.”

“You boys need anything else?”

“Yeah,” Michael smiled at Liz and rested his chin in his hand. “I’ve gotta know how you do it.”

She smiled and tilted her head, ripping their bill from her pad. “How I do what?”

“Deal with this cheesy motherfucker.”

**********

That night, he’d left the Pony a bit early, giving Maria a quick kiss and apologizing for not staying, offering some excuse about files to review or formulas to work on. He couldn’t even remember.

He sat in the airstream, crickets chirping loudly outside, with a tiny lamp illuminating the space. Bringing his knees to his chest, he rested his head against the cool aluminum and stared at the blank piece of paper, twirling his pen between his fingers.

Glancing towards the door, he remembered the first time he’d seen Alex in almost a decade, how beautiful he looked but the way he stood, obviously prepared for a battle. Michael grimaced when he remembered his words, a real Manes man.

How many times over the months, years, had he said the wrong thing? Made Alex feel small when he may have had the power to help him feel tall again. Crawling out of his too small bed, Michael opened up a box and pulled out his favorite photo. Alex looked so relaxed, even though he still carried too much weight for a seventeen-year-old kid. The years had only added to that pressure, made his shoulders slump a little more each day with the burden of this world and, at least, one other.

He kicked off his boots and shimmied out of his pants, crawling under the covers and grabbing the paper and pen once more, his favorite photo resting on the covers beside him.

********

It was a few days later that Max had shown up at the ass crack of dawn to pull Michael out of bed so they could surprise Isobel. He’d been doing that now and then, seemingly determined to make sure the three of them remained close, all feeling needed and loved.

Michael wasn’t complaining.

They’d picked up coffee and bagels from Bean Me Up and had a relaxing morning catching up and gossiping, enjoying the perfect weather.

“Did you end up taking my advice?” Max looked at Michael over his coffee once the inevitable subject of his romantic life was brought up.

Nodding, Michael sighed. “Yep. It wasn’t too bad if I do say so myself.”

“Fill me in please.” Isobel leaned back in her chair, long legs crossed and swinging playfully.

Michael pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head with a smile. “I guess I’m having a hard time letting Alex go? I’m happy with Maria but it feels like something changed.” He watched Isobel’s eyes soften and had to look away. “Our resident writer suggested I put pen to paper to move on.”

“Or not,” Max pushed Michael’s knee with his foot. “Could just help you process it all. Don’t have to make any final decisions.”

“Nah, I’m alright. I feel better about it already, I think.”

“He thinks,” Isobel smirked towards Max who nodded in agreement, eyebrows furrowed in false seriousness. “He thinks.”

“Ah, fuck you both.”

He laughed with his siblings as his heart sank.

********

Max dropped him off at the airstream a few hours later with the promise of a free beer at the Pony that night. He was surprised to find Maria sitting around the fire pit, eyes on a fire that sat extinguished.

“Hey. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

She nodded slowly; eyes fixed on his. “I lost my phone and thought it might be here.”

“Ah,” Michael said as he took the seat next to her. “You could have let yourself in, taken a look. You didn’t need to wait for me.”

“Oh, I didn’t.”

Something began to shift uncomfortably inside of Michael, realizing too slowly that something wasn’t quite right with Maria. “You okay?”

She smiled as tears welled in her eyes. “No, I’m not.”

Michael reached out for her, but she stood quickly and moved out of reach. He watched as she faced away from him, listened as she steadied her breath.

“A veteran move as you limp into frame, longing to be your crutch, I want to consume your pain.”

“Maria, wait- “

“So I loosen my belt, a familiar feeling, ten years later and my heart’s still reeling.”

“Maria, just stop and listen- “ but she continued, undeterred.

“Then you show up on my porch, floating down the stream, while I swim uphill, running out of steam.”

As Maria’s voice cracked, Michael held his head in his hands. He never meant for anyone to see what he wrote, let alone Maria. But there was something undeniable about hearing his words out loud. Something he couldn’t walk away from anymore.

“Lies upon lies, thighs upon thighs, of a woman’s touch but damn that guy.” He grimaced as Maria’s voice broke. She turned to face him, crumpled paper shaking in her delicate hands.

“The one who lifted my heaviest sighs with ease. Too much pride to beg; I’ll let my looks say please. So ignore my words, this is where I stand. You’re a pretty little liar, and I’m your man.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Michael’s heart ached at the look on Maria’s face and he wanted nothing more than to comfort her, to make that expression vanish.

“It’s just a poem, Maria.”

“For Alex.”

“It’s nothing. It’s a last goodbye.”

As a tear danced down her cheek, she shook her head. “You think that poem was a goodbye?”

Michael stood, legs feeling like jelly and out of his control. “I know it was. I wrote the damn thing.”

“When did you write it?”

He buried his hands in his pockets and stared at the sand covering his boots.

“Michael.”

“A couple days ago.”

Scoffing, she took the few steps to stand in front of him, taking hold of his face and forcing him to look at her. The paper in her hand left a small papercut on his cheek.

Her gaze was intense, making him feel naked, too exposed. He tried to pull away, but she just held on tighter. Michael felt his eyes fill, hands coming to her wrists in a silent plea.

“Fuck you, Michael.”

He nodded, finally able to avert his eyes. She dropped her hands and gently pressed the poem against his chest. He quickly covered her hand with his and their eyes met again, both crying and flayed open.

“I knew, Michael. I just kept hoping you’d grow to love me as much as you love him.”

Swallowing, Michael whispered, “I tried. I promise I tried.”

She nodded and leaned into his warmth, arms wrapping around one another and swaying slightly, a last dance in the quiet of the desert. Eventually, Maria pulled back and wiped her eyes, looking around at everything but Michael.

Clearing her throat, she took a step back and pulled her keys from her pocket. “Stay away from the Pony for a while, okay? I need time.”

He nodded and said, “yeah. Of course.”

She nodded in return and walked toward her truck, stopping with the door open and one foot inside.

“That,” she pointed at the paper in his hand, blowing gently with the breeze, “is not a goodbye. It’s a confession.”

Michael watched as she drove away, the dust clouding his view as she left.

He looked down at the paper, reading his poem through blurry eyes. Roughly wiping at his face, Michael carefully folded the paper and tucked it in his back pocket.

In something of a daze, Michael walked into the airstream, sitting on the edge of his bed with his phone in one hand, the photo in the other. He took a deep breath as he hit send, leg bouncing with nerves and a naïve sense of excitement as the phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Alex. It’s Michael.”

“Hi. You okay?”

Michael smiled. “Yeah. I was just hoping you could come over. I wanna talk to you.”

His heart raced as Alex said nothing, the seconds ticking away with his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Uh, yeah, of course. What do you need?”

“You.”

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #the poem fic #if rin asks she shall receive #poem belongs to Michael Vlamis #my fic

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aknymph · 4 years

Text

Our Little Secret~ Part 3

A/N: I finally finished this, and I finally started an AO3 (aknymph). There is definitely more to come!!! Yes, this has basically been three chapters of smut, sue me. Writing from Aleksander’s perspective was HARD, but I really wanted to get into his head with this scene to show how he experienced Part 2. It starts 3rd person, then switches to first to sort of help get into his head...I know it’s weird, but I think it works?

Characters belong to Leigh Bardugo and The Grisha Trilogy.

**Warnings: mature content, sex, language

Characters: Alina Starkov + The Darkling

Read Part 1 and Part 2

**Aleksander’s P.O.V. of part 2**

Aleksander still wasn’t sure this was happening, but he wouldn’t pause to ponder it, not now. He was going to give her everything he could while she was in front of him, and if it ruined him in the process, so be it.

He had felt the draw of power before, much like he knew other Grisha were drawn to his power. His centuries in this world had brought him in contact with many individuals with great power, and he’d felt the pull of it. Like calls to like. He’d even felt the draw of power from individuals not quite like the Grisha, those with a power fashioned from something older, but even those people had not understood him.

There had been other sun summoners, but in his centuries, he’d never come across another shadow summoner. He’d concluded long ago that it was some perversion of Illia Morotsova’s power when he’d passed it to his daughter, and that power had passed to him from his mother-- the power that had always struck a cord of fear. After a time of wishing he didn’t have to be alone, he’d accepted the fear that followed him and his power, honed it to work in his favor. He’d used it to manipulate kings and Grisha alike- fear had been his most powerful ally. But with Alina, it was different.

He was drawn to her. She did have great power, and the amplifiers had added to it. As summoners, their power flowed through the same vein in the world, but where he called to darkness, she called to light. She was his opposite, his mirror.

“Alexsander,” she moaned, breaking me from my revelry as I thrust myself into her. My name on her lips was a prayer I’d never known.

“Yes, Alina?” I managed, not wanting to remove my mouth from her skin longer than required. I wanted to be the one to show her everything. This glorious woman before me had two other men that wanted her, and yet, here I was, the one helping her explore her body. I was the one giving her this pleasure. Still, the power flowing between us was intoxicating, making it increasingly difficult to hone in on anything else.

“I want this, Aleksander. I want us. I want you.” Alina was speaking again. Those words. I couldn’t dwell on them now, but I wanted them to be true, to mean more than her wanting the pleasure of our bodies. I would give her this though, elicit these prayers from her lips for as long as she would let me. I grazed my teeth across her neck and she tightened her grip on my back. I continued down to the base of her neck and raised my eyes to her face. Her own eyes were closed, waiting in anticipation. I bit her neck, pulling a moan from her as her nails dug into my back, marking me like I was marking her.

“More,” she ground out. I couldn’t help the smile I gave her at that as her desire swept through me. When had this become our way-- her calling forth these subconscious secret smiles? This bond between us was a strange novelty to me, and I granted myself leave to explore it. I ran a finger down her core, following it with tongue and teeth. The salty taste of her skin was divine. Maybe she was a saint. I would worship her as one. I found my mouth hovering over her breast. Longing to tease her a bit, I traced the curve of her with my tongue.

“Aleksander.” It was a plea, spilling from her lips.

“So eager,” I chorused, letting her see the pleasure her words brought me, letting her feel that pleasure coursing through me as I continued my thrusts into her. I couldn’t withhold my own longing though, so I bent my head, licking brazenly up the fullness of her breast. She arched into me then, filling my mouth with her. A moan escaped me. This woman. This impossible woman. I’d lived five centuries, and yet I’d never granted myself such pointless pleasure. There had always been a purpose, a means to be sought, but here, with her, I wanted. A dangerous game indeed.

I loosed my control, sucking her deeper into my mouth as she pressed her bare body against mine. I wanted to feel her, feel all of her. I pulled my knees under myself as I pulled her body against mine, thrusting deeply inside her. I was shocked for a moment, finding her moving then, as if she’d loosed the leash on herself as well and was ready to claim what she wanted from me. There were still so many things I wanted to do to her, but if she wanted to wring her own pleasure from my body, I would let her. She climbed into my lap, sliding herself back around me easily, and pushed her hips forward hard against mine.

“Fuck, Alina.” The words escaped me before I could think otherwise. It seemed that pleased her because she entangled her arms around me. I found I wanted her to take from me, whatever it was she wanted. This was no longer my offering to her; I was laid before her, and she would take from me what she wanted, and I would let her. That realization surprised me. This woman surprised me, and I found I liked that.

I slid a hand down her back, grabbing her ass, and slid my other to her head, entangling it in her silken hair. I kissed her then, slow, tender, lingering. I just wanted to taste her as she wrung her pleasure from my body. I couldn’t have imagined what that tenderness would spark within her. Her movements became rapid, fierce, as she moved her body against mine.

“Oh, Aleksander. Yes, please.”

I used her pleas as a guide to give her what she wanted, to help guide her through this new-found pleasure. I grasped her hips, helping her move on me as her body came apart. We were both panting, working up to our peaks together. I was surprised-- a now common occurrence it seemed-- to find that seeing her pleasure, feeling her pleasure was bringing me so close to my own. I watched as her body arched and bucked.

“Come for me, my Alina.” I spoke the words gently, not a command, but an instruction, hoping to give her a name for what her body was seeking. Her body shuddered around me, an exhilaration crashing through me as she cried my name over and over.

“Aleksander. Aleksander. Aleksander.”

The sheer pleasure in her words, my name from her lips brought me crashing down with her, spilling myself inside her with my final thrusts.

I held her there, body pressed against mine. I didn’t want this to end, didn’t want it to be over, didn’t want to go back to what awaited us outside this room, outside this moment. But I also found that I didn’t care. I was disappointed to find Alina pulling back from our embrace. I felt the loss of her acutely, but still couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face at the acceptance of what we had done, what we had given each other. She had trusted me, and I her.

“You’re beautiful, my sun saint,” I told her, tracing my thumb over those tender lips.

Alina blushed at my words, turning her face from mine, having apparently regained her self-consciousness despite our bare bodies still pressed together.

I couldn’t bare her embarrassment, her refusal to meet my eyes. I touched her tentatively, allowing my hand to gently caress her face, now worried that sudden movements may startle this tender woman before me. I turned her face back toward me, willing my gaze to lighten.

“Do not hide from me.” I failed to hide the frustration in my voice, and she blinked at my tone. I tried again. I was not accustomed to sincere gentleness.

“Please.”

Her eyes softened then, seeming to understand that there was no anger in my words. But how could I convey to her what I wanted to say, needed to say. Would she accept my words, or would she turn away yet again?

Her hand rose to my cheek, as if to sooth me. My eyes drifted closed at her touch. I’d thought the experience we’d just shared had been the culmination of intimacy, but this touch, her hand on my cheek, somehow brought us impossibly closer.

I remembered her earlier confession to me, that she wanted us and hesitantly continued on.

“Alina,” I began, failing to remove the pain from my voice, “I don’t want to do this without you. I can, but-”

She was ripped from me then-- there one moment, gone the next.

“Alina. No, Alina, don’t do this. Don’t do this,” I shouted, begged, but she was already gone.

I don’t know how long I sat there, bent over myself on that table. I realized that, somehow, more than my body had been laid bare before her. And it had been too much. I thought what we’d shared had soothed the confusion, the guilt she’d felt at wanting me, at preferring me. I’d thought when she said that she was choosing me, that she meant she was choosing me over them-- all of them. Her Grisha, her followers, her Otkazatsia. I’d been wrong. Foolish, and wrong.

I gathered the scraps of my dignity as I gathered my clothes from the floor, from before the throne-- that throne, that I’d meant to be hers.

As I dressed, I spooled myself inward, allowing my anger, my embarrassment to build my shield anew. I’d lived for centuries. I’d barred myself from this weakness hundreds of years before. This had been a slip, one I couldn’t afford.

I left the throne room and made my way to the war room in the little palace. This place would be my focus, provide the centering that I needed in this moment. I felt a familiar calm as I strode through those doors, locking myself inside. I observed the table, the maps along the walls, and reminded myself that we were at war. Alina’s actions had been just another ploy, a manipulation that I had used myself hundreds of times with Grisha, with royals, men and women alike. Had this been how they’d felt then, when they realized my actions had been just that-- manipulation?

It didn’t matter, I reminded myself. I had a single focus again. I could no longer allow myself the weakness that was Alina Starkov, Sankta Alina, Sun Summoner, Sol Koroleva. I would shut her out. I must.

As if thinking of her had summoned her, I felt her presence begin to approach me. An urgency to guard myself against her flooded my mind, and what felt like a glazed shield encompassed me.

This connection Alina and I possessed was unlike anything I’d experienced with another. My knowledge of merzost and of amplifiers led me to believe it was, at least in part, due to the stag’s antlers that we could visit and communicate with each other in this way. Today had been the first time she had visited me though, so I hadn’t considered there was a way to block her, to keep her out.

I could still feel her, sense her presence all around me. I heard her call out to me, as if from a long distance, “Aleksander!”

I could see a figure before me, on the other side of the shield I’d erected. She wiped her hand at the surface, as if to clear a fogged glass, and I found that the haze began to give way. Was it her will or mine that allowed the barrier to fade? I inspected the haze, studying the feel of it, and clamped down on any lingering curiosity I had at why Alina had returned so readily. I’d made my decision, I would not allow myself this weakness any longer. The barrier turned a gleaming, sold black. Obsidian. My lips quirked up at that. There, Alina, I thought. Break through that.

I couldn’t hear her anymore, but I could still feel her, the essence of her, on the other side of that wall I’d built between us. Her power reverberated over it for a few more minutes, and I assumed she must be hammering her fists against it. I felt what seemed like a gasp of despair from the other side of the wall, and then nothing.

The absence I felt at the loss of her presence did not hold the satisfaction I’d hoped.

...At this point Aleksander decides he’s back to playing dirty since Alina must have used him. Oh, silly Aleksander. Where is the trust?! That’s it for now, but I’ve already started drafting some other things for this ship, so let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future stuff!! xx

#shadow and bone #siege and storm #The Grisha Trilogy #tgt #darklina fanfic #darklina fic #alina x the darkling #alina x aleksander #alina starkov #the darkling

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missmalice202 · 4 years

Text

Designing Your Melody: Chapter 18 - Vocals

Chapter 01 - Chapter 17

There were some situations that could only be put into perspective by venting to your best friend. Having a boy basically state his interest in you in a romantic capacity definitely qualified as one of those situations.

“Alya,” Marinette whined, looking at her best friend sitting on her couch. “What do I do?”

Ever since Luka’s confession two days ago, Marinette had been debating what her next move would be. She really really liked spending time with him, but she didn’t want to chance messing up the comfortable friendship they had developed.

“Girl, what do you want to do?” It was killing Alya to keep her mouth shut about Viperion’s true identity, but she agreed with Nino that this was something that their friend had to work out on her own. However, that didn’t mean that she couldn’t give her BFF a little nudge in the right direction. “What would you do if it were, say, Adrien confessing his love to you?”

She was appalled at that idea. “Adrien? Alya, you know I don’t like him like that anymore.” She shook her head in disgust. “No, even if Adrien were to tell me right now that he was in love with me and wanted to be with me, I’d tell him that we’d just have to stay friends”

“Okay, so it’s not the fact that someone likes you, it’s the fact that it’s Luka who likes you, correct?”

She stopped in her tracks and stared at her chestnut-haired friend. She hadn’t thought about it that way before. Maybe she wasn’t scared of being in a relationship, maybe she was scared of being in a relationship with Luka specifically. “Why does that scare me so much?” she asked anxiously.

“Girl, you’re scared because you’re already invested in your relationship with him.” She stood up and walked over to grab her friend’s hand, pulling her back to sit with her so she could focus on their conversation and not her pacing. “Even though you guys aren’t romantically involved yet and he said ‘no pressure’, you’re still worried that if you try to be with him and it doesn’t work out, it’ll destroy whatever it is you guys have now.”

“You’re right. It’s not worth it. I don’t want to lose him.”

Seeing the determination on her friend’s face, Alya realized that she needed to try a different tactic before Marinette sabotaged any sort of romantic involvement before it even began. “Let’s look at this from a different perspective. How would you react if it were Viperion saying that he wanted to be with you. Would you react any differently?”

She knew that she had to tread lightly. She didn’t want to reveal everything too soon. She was a little worried about using Marinette’s crush on her clanmate against her, but really, the girl was just so dense at times. Sometimes you just had to come right out and smack her across the face with something to make her acknowledge it.

“Viperion? What does he have anything to do with this?”

Alya growled, frustrated at her own decision to keep her mouth shut. “It’s a hypothetical question. Purely hypothetical. I asked, ‘what if’ to make you think about if you would behave differently.”

Marinette pondered that question for a few seconds. Would she react differently if it were Viperion? She did really like talking to their reptilian clanmate and she looked forward to playing with him whenever she got a chance to get online. Plus, he had an easygoing nature that made it really easy to open up to him. There were times that she wanted to ask him if they could meet up in real life, but she was comfortable with that degree of separation between them. Crossing that line would make him real, a flesh and blood person instead of a voice behind her screen.

If Viperion expressed an interest in meeting her and cultivating their friendship into something more, would she be so quick to shoot him down and play it safe?

“Honestly? I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know the real Viperion, only what he shares with me online. Just like he doesn’t know the real me. We only know what we tell each other.”

Alya chuckled softly. “That’s true of any relationship we have with another person. It’s up to you how much you share with the other person. Just because you don’t know what Viperion’s face looks like doesn’t mean you don’t know what his heart looks like.”

She looked at her friend in shock. “Wow, Alya. That was kinda deep.”

“What can I say?” she retorted with an exaggerated hair flip, “I have my moments.”

They both started giggling and the absurdity of Alya’s statement. After a few moments, Marinette took a deep breath and continued talking. “To be honest, I think if it were Viperion who had confessed his love to me, I think I would give him a shot.”

“Really? So what makes Viperion different than Luka?”

“I don’t know. I’m just so comfortable around Viperion. We can laugh and joke around and there’s no expectation there for anything else. When I’m with Luka, I can be myself around him, but there’s still that, I don’t know… pressure? I can’t really describe it.”

Deciding that she’s pushed her friend far enough for one day, Alya changed the subject. “So have you seen Luka since Saturday? Has he been stopping by the bakery like he used to?”

Marinette shook her head. “I think he’s giving me space. He invited me to see him perform next Saturday, though.”

“Oh my god, you have to go!” she shrieked. “Nino and I will go with you if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Would you?” she looked relieved. “I was going to ask Adrien if he wanted to come too. Get him out of his house for a night, ya know?”

Alya’s nose crinkled as she scowled at her friend. “Really? You think bringing Adrien to go see Luka play is really a good idea?”

Marinette’s brows furrowed in response. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be a good idea? He’s one of my best friends!”

She sighed at the naïve girl’s utter lack of awareness. “If you think it’s a good idea, then go ahead and invite him, girl. It’s your funeral.”

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

To Marinette, she thought of the evolution of her relationship with Adrien Agreste as a marker to indicate how much she had grown up and matured over the years. If someone had told her that she would be able to personally invite him out to join her – and their friends – to a club to watch a band perform without stuttering or making an absolute fool of herself, she would have called that person a liar. When they had been teenagers, there had been something about him that had made her brain short circuit in the most embarrassing of ways.

In a way, she was flabbergasted that the blond boy had never caught on to the way she had felt about him back then. In her mind, her obsession with him had been so painfully obvious to literally everyone except Adrien himself. Maybe he was just that oblivious. Or maybe he had been aware and was ignoring her affection for him in order to avoid a painfully awkward rejection.

It was something that she had wondered about many, many times over the years, but as her attraction for him had waned, she’d decided to just leave it alone and put it behind her.

Once she had moved on and made the conscious decision to be Adrien’s friend rather than just another fangirl, they had grown even closer than she had ever imagined. She was aware of the constant pressure he was placed under from his father and she had become a sort of safe haven for him to turn to when the stress of living up to his father’s expectations while pursuing his own dream became too much. If she were to be honest with herself, she was honored that she was the person he turned to when he just needed a break from reality.

However, recently she had begun to wonder if he had an ulterior motive for seeking out her company.

Over the past few months, she’d begun to notice that he’d been making more and more excuses to spend time with her, even if it meant squeezing in time between his university classes to drop into the bakery to snag a few pastries before returning to campus across the city. Surely there were other places much closer to his university where he could eat his lunch.

But Marinette never questioned him. She never brought up the lingering glances she caught him giving her. She never confronted him about the casual way he would invade her personal space, even if it was in a platonic way. She was hesitant to rattle the status quo they had been living in for so long, especially if her intuition was wrong. God, that would be embarrassing for him, as well as her.

A trickle of unease ran down her spine when she saw the way Adrien’s grin lit up his face when he noticed her approach in front of the club where Luka’s band would be performing that night. The sparkle in his eyes was something that she chose to ignore. After all, she was here at the invitation of another man.

‘Oh crap,’ she thought to herself. ‘Now I understand what Alya meant.’ She really hoped her utterly brilliant idea of inviting Adrien to watch Luka’s performance would not end up blowing up in her face.

As she and Adrien made small talk while waiting for the other half of their group to arrive, Marinette sent up a silent plea to whoever was listening that nothing bad happened tonight.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Once inside the club – turns out it really does help expedite the process when a member of the band gives the bouncer your name in anticipation of your arrival – Marinette and her friends looked around for a good spot to watch the show from. Even though they had gotten there an hour before Luka was supposed to hit the stage, the club was packed.

As she looked around the crowded club, Marinette was impressed. She’d been here before with Alya a few times to unwind after a rough day and it had never been this busy. It was standing room only and the mass of bodies crowding in front of the stage was already nearly impenetrable. Apparently, the band Luka was playing with tonight was more popular than he had led her to believe.

Just when she and her friends had resigned themselves to watching the show from the back of the room, a ripple of movement through the crowd caught her attention. The volume of chatter rose over the pre-recorded music being pumped through the speakers, easily becoming audible over the pounding base that made it feel like her ribs were vibrating with the reverberation.

She strained her eyes in a futile attempt to see what had caused the commotion, but she was too short to see over the heads of so many people.

When Nino nudged her arm with his elbow, she glanced at him in question, but he was too busy waving to someone in the crowd. Just then, Luka himself broke through the sea of bodies and the rift he had opened with his passing closed behind him.

He grinned at the four of them and yelled over the music to be heard. “I’m glad you guys could make it! I wasn’t expecting it to be this crowded tonight.”

Marinette couldn’t help but notice the way that Adrien shifted on his feet to inch just a little closer to her. Luckily, Luka didn’t notice the subtle movement due to his attention being focused solely on her. Thankfully, Nino kept the conversation going as he made the necessary introductions, even though she was pretty sure that Luka had met Alya and Adrien before.

They decided to brave the bar in an attempt to get something to drink. Luka stuck to water since he would be playing later and he wanted to have a clear head for the show. The other four, however, ordered bottles of beer to wet their parched throats. The temperature in the club was already becoming oppressive simply from the heat of so many bodies pressed together in one place.

Marinette couldn’t prevent the way her cheeks flushed whenever Luka bent over to yell something into her ear. The music was loud enough to invite the intrusion into her personal space, but she was certain that the hand he placed on the small of her back was unnecessary. Welcome, but unnecessary.

While Luka and Marinette stood off to the side and attempted to carry on a conversation in the loud club, Nino and Alya were keeping a careful eye on how their other friend was reacting to the interaction. He wasn’t taking it very well if the way he was scowling as he quickly drained his bottle was any indication. They tried to get Adrien’s attention away from the couple talking next to the bar, but even as he half heartedly listened to them talk, his eyes never once strayed from their dark-haired companion. Or the hand pressing gently on her back.

Alya and Nino grew more concerned as Adrien ordered and three more bottles of beer and emptied them before Luka motioned to them for them to follow him. Adrien tipped his head back to drain his last bottle and slammed it on the bar before following their group.

Using the dense crowd as a flimsy and utterly transparent excuse, Luka grabbed Marinette’s hand and led her through the crowd to get closer to the stage. With her free hand, she grabbed Alya by the arm, who grabbed onto Nino with her own spare hand. Nino, in turn, snagged the last reluctant member of their party and weaved their way up to the front of the crowd.

When they were in the front, right in the middle of the stage, Luka leaned in one last time. “I’ve got to go finish setting up. We’ll be starting soon, but I wanted to make sure you had the best seat in the house for this.”

Marinette’s heart fluttered. He really was so sweet, sacrificing time he should have spent preparing for the concert to make sure that she was taken care of. She shooed him playfully and he gave her arm one last squeeze before making his way backstage.

They didn’t have to wait long before the house lights dimmed and the spotlights illuminated the stage. The roar of the crowd was deafening when Luka and he other members of the band stepped on stage.

If she thought he was cute under normal circumstances, the moment he stepped on stage, her jaw – and her IQ – dropped. He was wearing simple clothes, nothing fancy since he wasn’t a full-time member of the band and didn’t want to attract too much attention away from the main members: ripped jeans and a shredded black t-shirt with a pair of Converse sneakers on his feet. But the moment he pinned her with his eyes, Marinette’s brain ceased to function. He had heavily outlined his ocean-blue eyes with eyeliner and the way he looked at her did things to her insides that she didn’t want to acknowledge. He was freaking hot.

Marinette joined in and cheered for Luka; she hadn’t learned what the band was called, so she just screamed his name when the vocalist, a tall, slender girl with wild, jet-black hair introduced each member of the band.

The way he winked at her as he slung the strap of his guitar over his shoulder made her mouth go dry. Seriously, it should be illegal for someone to look that good holding a guitar.

From the moment the band started playing the first song, Marinette was mesmerized. Hearing Luka play at her parent’s bakery and in her room had shown her that he had talent, but seeing him on stage, playing with a full band, gave her a whole new appreciation for his skill. The way his fingers danced over the strings of his instrument was a thing of beauty to behold and the way he moved so confidently around the stage told her that this was who Luka truly was.

Gone was the quiet boy who liked to tease her and who she had always considered a bit of a flirt. This boy – no, this man – was sex incarnate. He knew exactly what he was doing with his fingers on his instrument and the dexterity he displayed (as well as the heated way he looked down at her from the stage) made her think about what else he could do with those nimble fingers.

She shook her head to get rid of those intrusive thoughts. She looked up just in time to see him wink at her and smirk knowingly. It was like he knew exactly what she had been thinking about.

The band continued playing, sending the crowd into an absolute frenzy. People around her were dancing and jumping and screaming and Marinette was loving every second of it.

Until she felt someone drape their arms around her shoulders, holding her in an unwelcome embrace from behind.

She turned her head to see Adrien grinning at her from mere inches away. In all their time together, as casual as their physical interactions had been, he’d never been so bold when touching her. It was something she truly respected about him as a person; he knew where the line was. Until now.

She looked to her other side to see if she could get Alya’s help, but her friend was too wrapped up in the energy of the crowd to notice her predicament. She reached up and grabbed Adrien’s wrists, aiming to gently pry his arms away from her, but he only took that as an invitation to cuddle her closer.

She looked up to the stage with a panicked expression. Sure enough, Luka had noticed what was going on. He walked across the stage, never missing a beat, and crouched down to where she was standing. He locked eyes with Adrien and growled, “Let her go. Now.”

The singer’s vocals were loud enough that nobody around them realized what was happening. To the casual observer, he was just interacting with the crowd. But to Marinette’s immense relief, Luka’s actions had caused not only Adrien to release his hold of her shoulders but had also attracted Alya and Nino’s attention to the drama that was unfolding between their two other friends.

Thankfully, once that situation had been diffused, the rest of the concert had gone off without a hitch, but Adrien’s actions made it abundantly clear to Marinette that she would be having a serious discussion with her friend about boundaries and personal space.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

As the club emptied out after the show, Marinette and company were waiting by the bar for Luka to make another appearance. After a few short minutes, he walked up, reached behind the bar to snag a bottle of water that was waiting for him, and drained half of it before he turned to them.

“So, what did you think of the show?”

Marinette beamed at him. She didn’t think her smile could stretch any further across her face. “Luka, you were amazing! How are you not famous by now?”

He chuckled at her enthusiastic reaction. “I don’t want to be famous. I like my peaceful life.” He shrugged his shoulders and took another sip of his water. “I just want to play my music and live in peace.”

While Nino and Alya exclaimed over how good the show was, Marinette could feel the daggers that Adrien was staring at Luka. As time passed and his gaze turned darker and darker, she had had enough.

Just as she was about to confront him about his attitude, Luka reached out and place his hand on her shoulder. “I hate to do this, but I’ve got to help them break the equipment down. Do you think I can stop by your place when I’m done?”

Pulling her phone out of her purse, she checked the time. It was only 10:30pm, so she nodded and told him she’d be waiting for him in the bakery.

With a final thanks to everyone for coming to see him perform, Luka strode off to join the band and clear the stage of equipment.

When they all left the club, Alya and Nino were hesitant to leave Marinette and Adrien alone, especially considering Adrien’s erratic behavior earlier and his questionable sobriety. But Marinette told them not to worry and sent them on their way, giving Alya a pointed stare that managed to convey that she was going to be having a very serious conversation with Adrien about what had transpired that night.

So it was with a little concern – and a promise to text when Marinette made it home safely – that Nino and Alya made their way home, watching as Marinette and Adrien walked in the opposite direction towards the DuPain-Cheng bakery.

-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-xXx-

Chapter 19 (Coming Soon!)

*This chapter gave me soo much trouble. The first half I just absolutely hated, but I absolutely flew through the second half. I've been wanting to write Luka's concert for like, ever and personally, I love how it came out. And while I wasn't planning on Adrien acting like a possessive jerk initially, I think it kinda fit. So, I'm sorry if he seems OOC, but I love it and that's all that matters haha. BTW, this is the longest chapter I’ve written so far, by nearly 1,000 words! Yay for progress and longer chapters!

I'd like to apologize for it taking me so freaking long to get this out. Now that I'm not dying of the flu anymore, I'm working so much more, picking up all sorts of shifts to cover for the people who can't work now because they don't have childcare and the kids here are still out of school. I count myself extremely fortunate that I'm still able to work (I'm a home healthcare provider), so I'm not taking that for granted.

Special thanks as always for those who have reblogged, liked, and replied to this story of mine. It sincerely touches me that you like this utter trash that I'm creating and I couldn't be happier. I'm always so excited to see what you guys have to say about the new chapters and I so look forward to your feedback. I love you guys so much!

The next chapter will be exciting for me to write. Marinette confronts Adrien with his stupid behavior and Luka sees something he shouldn't.

Until next time, my lovelies XOXO*

@write-for-your-life2

#lukanette fanfiction #lukanette #lukanette february #lukanette fic #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #marinette dupain cheng #luka couffaine

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foodcourtdetective · 5 years

Text

thinking too hard

summary: barry berkman has been trying to forget about his soulmate for both of their sakes, but Y/N is making it very hard and using their soulmate connection to draw all over him.

tags: angsty, soulmate au, love at first sight, very brief Barry x Sally, definitely a happy ending!

A/N: I’m just really into soulmate!au’s and Barry Berkman okay?!?! (and // means time passes)

word count 2.4k

AO3 x

He hated Los Angeles. Barry’s long sleeve shirt stuck to him in the desert heat, sweat pooling in his armpits and on his back. NoHank asked him about his outfit choice, offering him a short-sleeved shirt or a tank top.

“You want to take one of their shirts? They won’t mind, they’re confident in their bodies!” NoHank said, gesturing over to the Chechen recruits. Barry shook his head, clearing his throat in discomfort. After a moment, NoHank made a movement to push up Barry’s sleeves for him, but Barry was too quick and grabbed NoHank’s pinky, bending it all the way back.

“Shit shit, okay okay! Someone has body issues! We will talk about accepting your body some other time then.” Barry ignored him, staring coldly ahead as the young Chechen recruit finally hit a beer can with his bullet.

When he finally got back to his apartment, Barry made a beeline for the bathroom, nodding briefly at Jermaine and Nick on his way. After peeling off his shirt and grabbing the sink, Barry took a look at his body or rather what was on it. Today, his soulmate had kept it simple: a heart on his wrist, a note to pick up two lattes at 9, and a flower chain that started at his trigger finger and trailed all the way up his forearm. He sighed, holding back a soft smile as her traced up the stem of flowers with his other pointer fingers. As he ended the journey at his inner forearm, Barry stopped to see a less traditional note: written on his upper chest right over his heart, in simple cursive, it read please talk to me, Barry. A deep sigh filled the tiny bathroom and he gently caressed their handwriting. The familiar movement triggered a whirl of memories.

Writing excitedly on his leg the moment he turned sixteen to introduce himself to his soulmate only to get no response. Giving up on love and joining the Marines shortly after. Noticing the shy hello scribbled on his hand seven years later when he was already too far gone. Writing to them any chance he got once he find out the silence was because they had not been old enough yet. Learning her name was Y/N and that she lived in California. Having to break off communication once Fuches put him to work. The sharp lines she had drawn as she had asked if he could feel the sharp indent of her pen, told him that ignoring them for their own good was ridiculous. The obscene images Y/N had drawn all over him the first couple of years, trying to get an angry message from him, any message.

His heart sank, but Barry knew as much as it hurt both of them, it was better for them to move on, to pretend to not have a soulmate. God knows Barry would rather hide her away, hide his shot at happiness, than have her be tortured or worse by any of his enemies or allies. He groaned, his knuckles turning whiter than the sink.

His acting class didn’t know what to make of him at first; his long, dark clothing sharply contrasted their tight shorts and tank tops, skin flaunting their connections. But despite himself, Barry grew close to Sally, a girl who had never seen any marks on her body. After hearing that Barry also had a blank canvas, she pounced on him with a marker she had seemingly pulled out of nowhere, drawing a star on his knuckles. However, despite her persistence, no matching star appeared on her own. Sally declared them star-crossed soulmates and asked him on a date.

After a late night of drinks, Barry found himself making out with Sally on her couch. She went to pull off his shirt and for the first time in his life, he mindlessly complied, distracted by the intimacy. Sally suddenly shot up from the couch, crying out as she pointed to the drawings adorning his chest. Y/N had seen the star Sally had drawn and, hopeful that it was a message to her, drew out an intricate night sky. Hidden among the stars, scrawled out in cursive, she wrote I’m here when you’re ready, Barry. -Y/N.

“How dare you! You lied just to get into my pants?!” Sally tripped over herself to pick up his discarded shirt, balling it up to chuck at him. Barry pulled it on, dazed all the way home until he saw the message glint in the mirror as he was getting undressed. Barry slammed his fist into the wall, shouting out in frustration. Ass his phone rang, the caller ID revealing it was Fuches, Barry scrambled to put his shirt back on, scribbling a message to Y/N on the fleshy part of his bicep. I’m a hitman. Don’t message me unless you want to die.

After the assignment, Barry found himself staring at his chest and reading her pleas to talk further. That’s not funny. Barry. Barry! Oh my god, you’re serious. That explains a few things. You gotta talk to me, your soulmate? I need to know why. Barry sighed, wandering over to his bedroom to get a pen from his desk. He sat on the bed, anxiously fiddling with the pen in between his fingers before writing on his trigger finger: you still want to talk to me? He waits, watching the loopy letters sweep down his arm like a signature under the floral art she continued to draw every day.

Yes, I have a death wish. He laughed at the absurdity of their conversation before responding.

Why are all artists suicidal?

See, I’d rather have this with you than live without it. Her words made him freeze in his tracks, his fingers gently stroking over the confession as they faded away, scrubbed off by the writer. She filled the now empty space with a series of numbers; Barry furrowed his brow, trying to decode the secret message. After a moment Y/N wrote again underneath them.

Running out of space! Text me! He hesitated, his heart in his throat as he debated if the convenience was worth sacrificing her safety. Finally, with shaking hands, he dialed the number and hit call. A soft hello followed the ringing, the voice so angelic that he knew he would do whatever she asked him to do.

“I said text, not call! You do know how to read, right?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s nice to hear your voice!”

“What? No, I mean I’m sorry for…” Barry trailed off, his mind swarmed by memories of pushing her away and feeling her anguish through the pointy pen tip.

“You wanted to protect me. I get it. Now we’re even from when I couldn’t write to you.”

“That wasn’t intentional.”

“It would have been! I was a pretty rebellious eleven year old.” He laughed, the silence after he finishes awkward until he breaks it.

“I’m in LA.”

“For work?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

Barry doodles a flower on his thumb. It’s not as pretty as any of hers, but she draws a faint heart around it. He brushes the heart, his own beating so loudly it was in his ears.

“I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“Because of who I am? What I do?” His throat was thick from holding back the dam of emotion, but his voice managed to crack in desperation.

“I’m scared you’re going to leave me again.” Barry paused at that, his own heart breaking a little at the thought of all of the pain he must have caused Y/N by abandoning her. He’s now drawing a bouquet on his forearm, a sloppier version of her own.

“You don’t have to be afraid of that. Once I see you for the first time, I’m probably never going to leave you alone ever again… Not in a creepy way…”

“I would love that.”

“I’m giving you an out right now. You can hang up, stay in the safety of your life as a… what do you do again?”

“Graphic design!”

“I knew you were an artist!”

“And I knew you were a comedian!”

“Weird way of pronouncing what I actually do…” She giggled at that, falling quiet after a hearty laugh.

“Look at your leg. I’ll see you there at 9. Don’t be late!” As she hung up, Barry pressed his phone to his lips in shock. Remembering her words, he pulled his pants down to read the directions she had jotted onto his thigh, the dots in the I’s drawn as hearts instead of dots; he almost died of pure joy right then and there.

In hindsight, it was good that Y/N had suggested a coffee shop to meet because Barry had not gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. He had stared at the ceiling, flat on his back and still fondly stroking her writing on his leg. As his pointer finger traced the hearts, he felt his own thud loudly in his chest. It was easier to protect her when she was just lines on his person, just another part of him that he hated, another vulnerability. But hearing Y/N’s voice, imagining what she might look like, had ignited a wanting within him, a need to be with her, his other half. She was no longer just a part of him; she was a separate entity that he wanted to get to know and love.

He had gotten to the shop as soon as it opened at 4, wanting to figure out where the best table inside would be and staking it out for them. The barista had made him order a drink at 5:30; panicked and feeling about a thousand years old, Barry ordered “something to bring me back to life.” At 6 he was shuttering, borderline convulsing from the quad espresso that he consumed quickly. His anxiety was through the room, but all he could do was dig his fingernails into his palm which was resting on his jeans over her handwriting. What if she wasn’t as okay with the age difference as she thought she was? What if it hits her that her soulmate is a hitman? What if the drawings stop appearing. What if—

Barry jolted awake in his seat, now realizing that he had crashed from the overdose of caffeine. The barista (Stacie, he later learned) made a joke about having to restart his heart. He checked his phone: 8:30am. Suddenly, a thought dawned on him and he ordered another drink. By the time Stacie brought it over and started walking back to the counter, the bell above the door tingled. Barry immediately stood up like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, turning to look at the customer. She sensed his stare immediately, turning to look him over as a dreamy blush painted her cheeks.

“Barry?” She whispered, his name less of a question and more of a disbelief. He swallowed, his throat dry as he looked over Y/N, his soulmate. She was absolutely picturesque, an almost pure aura of light around her as the door slowly shut behind her. As she drew near, Barry was almost too aware of how he towered over, a menacing presence.

“I gotcha a latt-“ Barry didn’t even get to finish his stuttering as Y/N grabbed his collar and pulled him down into a kiss. His mouth was already half open and he stumbled forward from the force of her tug. It wasn’t the most coordinated kiss in the world, her mouth mostly on his bottom lip and her teeth lightly bumped his by accident; but it was theirs. Barry felt his body fill with a warmth, like his whole being was sighing with relief at being united with his soulmate as he kissed her back. He had thought that the doodles and the sound of her voice would do him in, but this… this would knock his entire life’s path off track. After a moment, Barry gently placed his hands on her cheeks and pulled away, just looking down at her in awe.

“How did you know my coffee order?” Y/N asked, her grin stretched out wider than Barry previously thought possible. He babbled for a few seconds, removing his hands to gesticulate as he just expressed a bunch of word fillers before finally managing to get something out.

“Y-you, you wrote it on your hand as a-a part of your to-to-to do list,” he explained, trying to stick his erratic hands in his pockets but Y/N swung her hand forward to snatch his hand. She squealed, making a joke about how sweaty his hand was and Barry thought he would die of a heart attack right then and there. She pulled him down again, this time so they could sit at the table together and she could take a sip of her latte. Barry simply stared at her, his brain slightly short circuiting with delight. Eventually, rational thought caught up with him and Barry tried to remove his hand from hers, but she had a firm grip and a look in her eye that told him she already knew what he was going to say.

“You’re not worried about…”

“I thought we already went over this, Barry. I’m in! I’m all in,” she declared sweetly, leaning over to capture his lips once again. He was consumed by it, by her, his head swirling with a dizziness of emotion and his lungs burning with a heartache of regrets. They could have had this so much sooner, if he had left the army, if he hadn’t made that deal with Fuches, if he hadn’t been an idiot about wanting to protect her. The deep and mind numbing kiss ended as Y/N broke it to breathe heavy. Barry looked at her through lidded eyes, revering her with every fiber of his being.

“You are good at that! It’s a good thing too because it looks like I’m gonna have to kiss you every five minutes to get you out of that type of thinking,” she giggled, moving to lean back in her chair but Barry slung an arm around her waist, pulling her back into him with a soft smile.

“Better make it every two minutes because I’m thinking again,” he joked, his heart glowing as the love of his life obliged his request and kissed him senseless.

#barry berkman x reader #barry #barry hbo #barry block x reader #soulmate au #soulmate!au #barry berkman imagine #barry block imagine #barry berkman #barry block #bill hader #hbo #bill hader x reader #my words #barry x sally

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fortheloveoffanfic · 5 years

Text

Closer

John Wick x Reader. A/n I’ve been listening to Nine Inch Nails on repeat for days now and then I got to thinking, “I bet John Wick could be really rough in bed if he wanted to,” and then this happened .Reading and writing smut has always been very awkward for me, because really, I’m f**king awkward, I hope it hasn’t translated here though. Major NSFW warning.

“I wanna fuck you like an animal, I wanna feel you from the inside…”

Y/n walked a few paces in front of John her hips swaying in the tight fabric of her black jeans, her heels thudded softly against the carpeted floor. Before she could even get to her room, she was already peeling of her leather jacket, revealing the bruises that were littered up her arms. “This thing is filthy,” She held it up with her pointer and middle fingers, “And it smells like blood.”

“That’s your problem with this situation?” John scoffed, she always spent more annoyance on trivial things as opposed to things that actually mattered. “You almost died tonight. Fuck, we both almost died tonight.”

John didn’t see it, but he knew that she rolled her eyes, “Okay, attitude not necessary, and first of all, we almost die every week but we’re still here. And second of all, this is designer John. Cole Hann,” Y/n gave the jacket a playful shake.

John tried to laugh off her comment. Hell, he tried to listen to whatever snarky remark she had followed it up with. But he simply could not. John was too distracted by the sway of her hips as they drew closer to the end of the hall where their rooms were. How her weapon holsters were tight around her thighs, over skin tight jeans. They way the plain black tank top hugged her perfect curves. John found himself wondering if her skin was as soft as it appeared, if Y/n looked as good out of those clothes as he’d imagined. For a while now, John had found himself liking her in a way that friendship and allegiance couldn’t explain, but tonight, his crude thoughts had dominated his mind and was secretly the reason why they had almost gotten killed.

They stopped between the last two doors at the end of the corridor. John’s room on the left, Y/n’s on the right. As they lingered in front of her open door, Y/n met John’s gaze, she found that there was something in his eyes that made heat stir in her center. Y/n’s own sly, hooded stare darkened, accompanying a suggestive smirk. She’d be lying if she said that she had never wondered what John was like out of his signature suit. Maybe tonight she would be lucky enough to find out. “Want to come in?” Tension hung between them, “For drinks?” Y/n took her full, plum stained bottom lip between her teeth.

John didn’t respond immediately, but when he did, it wasn’t with words. His calloused fingers found the sliver of exposed sink between the hem of her top and the waist of her jeans and he crashed his lips against Y/n’s as she stumbled forward. “Yes or no?” He mumbled into her mouth, unable to form any other words that might have been more civil.

Y/n was already yanking John’s white shirt out of his pants, unbuttoning it from the bottom, “What do you think old man?”

“Old man?” John growled, moving his hands to cup her backside before encouraging her legs around his waist. Effortlessly, John lifted Y/n off the ground only to deposit her a top the soft sheets of the queen sized bed shortly after. “You should have some respect, little girl.”

His words intensified the pooling heat in her center and at a painfully slow pace, John shrugged off his open jacket and shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Y/n scooted up higher on the bed, propping herself on her elbows to get a better look at him. He was much better a than she anticipated. His body was a firm work of art and had the slightest definition. John’s chest was littered with scars, shining in the low lighting and there were new bruises as well.

Kicking off his shoes, John kneeled on the bed, between Y/n’s spread legs, harshly grabbing her by the feet, pulling off her shoes. Then, he undid her pants, slowly peeling them off, letting them fall where they pleased. His fingers slipped beneath the lace of Y/n’s thong and his pressed his lips high on her inner thigh, nipping and sucking the soft flesh. Her unmanned leg laid loosely, toes curled as John worked his way to so his face was pressed to the dampening fabric of her underwear, breathing in her alluring scent. She grabbed fistfuls of the sheets when he suddenly ripped her panties at the sides, discarding them near by. “John….”

He pulled her legs up, positioning them on his shoulders so half of her body was off the bed, and John pressed an opened mouthed kiss to her sex, his tongue dancing about the bundle of nerves there, sending pleasurable shocks that Y/n swore she could feel all they way in her fingertips. Her legs stiffened around his neck as he continued, her heels digging into his shoulder blades, “John,” she mewled but he didn’t respond. His tongue roamed lower between her folds as his hands travelled up her body, eventually squeezing her breasts, his fingers toying with her nipples.

Y/n gladly submitted to John, letting him have his way with her however he pleased. Her first orgasm came quickly and when John dropped Y/n’s legs to his sides, his scruff glistened as proof of where he had just been. He didn’t give a chance to catch her breath, taking her wrists in his large hands, pinning them to the mattress, right above her head, crashing his lips to hers. Y/n tasted herself on John as his tongue swirled around her mouth, establishing his dominance. Wrapping her legs around him, Y/n tried to rub her over sensitive sex against his erection straining against his slacks and boxers. Y/n didn’t want it to end until John had fucked her till she ached. “What does the little girl want?” He whispered harshly into her ear, biting the soft flesh at her earlobe.

“You,” Y/n mumbled barley coherently, her hips bucking upwards. The rough fabric of his pants created friction, but it wasn’t enough.

“Use your words baby, I want you to beg for it.” John ordered, “Beg for my cock to fuck you good.”

“John…..please. I want you to fuck me…” Y/n moans and John tugged her legs so she was half in his lap, his clothed erection is brushing her soaked entrance. “Please,” she begged.

Quickly, and harshly, John flipped Y/n over onto her stomach, “Don’t move,” he ordered getting off the bed. In a few short, hurried movements, John got rid of his pants and boxers and when he glanced towards the bed, Y/n was sprawled out her stomach, her face turned to him. She bit her lip, admiring his naked form, brushing away messy hair from lust blown eyes.

Climbing back onto the bed, John hovered over her back, grabbing a fistful of her hair, tugging roughly, “Didn’t I tell you to stay put?” Y/n swallowed thickly, trying to contain her excitement, nodding tightly against his grip. “Words,” he growled, his mouth close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

“You did,” she confessed, words strained as she arched herself to encourage him. John’s free hand skimmed the length of her body, his touch feather light and teasing, only lingering when he stopped to grope her hips and then her ass. Y/n squirmed beneath him, her body longing for more. “John,” she pleaded, “Please…”

In harsh, hurried movements, John flipped her again, so Y/n was on her back, her hands immediately raising to run her fingers along his chest, scraping her nails over the shine of old scars. Again, she bucked her hips and this time, involuntarily, John did as well, groaning as his tip brushed her wetness.

Single-handedly, John squeezed Y/n’s hands above her head, leaning down so her hardened nipples were pressed to his chest as her legs snaked around his hips. Without warning, John slammed into her, the violent movement almost painful, jerking Y/n deeper into the mattress and further into the pillows. She yelped in surprised when he pulled out fully before thrusting back in, just as violently.

John’s slow, rugged pace continued for a while, with his face buried in her neck, sucking purple-ish spots into her silky skin. She tasted like perfume, salt and desire and John was reveling in every second of it. Neither of them wanted it to end just yet, no one had ever stretched her the way John had, reaching her deepest points of pleasure with each roll of his hips.

Though, after a while, John grew impatient and Y/n’s pleas for, “Faster,” grew more frequent. Finally releasing her hands, John groaned as her nails dug into his shoulder blades. He held her hips in place, steading her in anticipation for a faster pace. Her sounds were some kind of corrupted heaven, the devil’s music bouncing off the walls just for him; as breathy yelps escaped her lips and she sung garbled pleas.

As John drew closer to his climax, he pressed his sweaty forehead to hers, “Louder baby, let them know who’s fucking you good.”

Gasping loudly, Y/n’s nails dug deeper into his skin, “John! Fuck John!” She screamed.

“Good girl,” he managed before harshly commanding, “Come for me baby girl.”

Beside them, on the table, the phone shrieked angrily, probably with a pesky noise complaint on the other end. But neither of them heard it and Y/n unraveled, pleasure gushing out of her, leaking onto their thighs and sheets, “God, John!”

Her cries of ecstasy were enough to have him following close behind, obscured, obscene praises grunted into Y/n’s ear as he throbbed and twitched inside of her, “Fuck Y/n, you’re so fucking good.”

After a while, John had rolled off of Y/n and they laid side by side. Their bodies glistened with exertion and their chests heaving with quick breaths. The phone had stopped ringing, with the caller probably growing tried of trying to reach them.

It didn’t take long for the ache around her lower half to set in and Y/n knew she would be nursing it in the coming days, without the slightest hint of regret. As she brushed some hair out of her face, Y/n’s breathing evened and she laughed quietly.

“What?” John asked, turning his gaze to her profile, in awe of how she could still look so distractingly gorgeous in her disheveled state.

“Nothing,” Y/n propped herself on an angled elbow, tracing absent circles on his chest, “It’s just…you’re very rough for an old man.”

John scoffed at her tease, dragging his bottom lip between his teeth before gathering Y/n in his arms, “You’re still with that huh?” Her only response was a challenging smirk. John dragged her up with him and soon she was straddling his lap, “I’m going to have to teach you a lesson, little girl.”

“Oh?” Y/n pouted, her eyes still twinkling with mischief.

John urged her off of him, getting off the bed, expertly searching through the near darkness, only returning when he found what he wanted. “Yeah,” he grinned arrogantly and finally she caught a glimpse of what he was holding. “You should have some respect for your elders,” John mused, running the cool leather of his belt through his fingers. “Now, are you ready to learn, little Y/n?”

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Unforeseen Chasm (Part 6)

Prompt: Two sisters fall for men that are absolute enemies. The love they have could tear all of them apart, or it could bring them together.

Word Count: 1413

Warnings: Language, arguing/fighting

Note: This is by far the longest thing I’ve ever written (including my novels). It’s a collaboration with the amazing @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo. It started as a funny “What if…?” and it evolved and got huge. This took two years to write. We are both proud and happy and we hope you enjoy it. It follows from Thor 1 to Endgame in the MCU. Some of the timelines may be off in order to fit certain people, and some characters may show up earlier or in different ways than they have in the movie. But for the most part, it follows the MCU. It also has a bit of crossover with some other Marvel characters throughout the story.

Masterlist for Unforeseen Chasm

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When you landed, you were inside a large round open room. This must be the Bifrost.

Thor ordered the warriors to get themselves to a healing room, and you followed him, trying frantically to keep up.

“What’s going on?” you asked, nearly tripping over your own feet just to keep with his pace.

“I’m not sure, but my brother lying about our father’s death can not be good.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To keep me in exile, I’m sure.”

“But why does he want that?”

“I do not know.”

The rainbow bridge was long, and with Thor’s pace, you were panting by the time you reached the palace, following the prince. You tried desperately to take it all in, but it was all so much. There was so much gold, so much life everywhere. The scenery was truly stunning, for what you could tell.

You stayed close to Thor as if getting more than a few feet from him would cause you to combust. Guards eyed you with uncertainty. Thor made it to his father’s chambers, where his mother stood, hugging the raven haired Loki, and a sleeping Odin lay.

“Thor! I knew you’d return to us!” she said thankfully before pulling her son into an embrace.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Thor asked. “How you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends, to kill me!”

“What?” Frigga asked, standing next to you, acknowledging your presence briefly and politely with a quick look.

“Well, I must have been enforcing father’s last command,” he said with venom.

“You’re a talented liar, brother, always have been,” Thor remarked.

“It’s good to have you back. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim.”

In an instant, he blasted Thor back with his giant scepter, about to leave the King’s chambers when he laid eyes on you again and nearly stopped in his tracks before whisking himself away and down the hall.

This left you and Frigga alone.

“Oh, dear,” she said shaking her head.

“Is… is he alright?” you asked, looking down the hall Loki just left.

“I’m afraid not,” she informed.

“What happened?” you inquired. You shook your head. “I’m so sorry, I’m Y/N. I knew your son, on Earth? I met Thor, and Loki, down there. Thor brought me back because… well… he said I might be Asgardian.”

“Is that so?” she mused. “I’m Queen Frigga, it is a pleasure to meet you. Oh I do hope they quit fighting.”

“What has them so… at odds?” you asked as Frigga started to fret and scurry out of the bed chambers.

“My son...he found out he was adopted and I’m afraid he hasn’t taken the news as well as we had hoped…” she confessed.

“Adopted? Loki?” you inquired. That was never in any of the books.

“Yes, but he is our son all the same. I think the announcement of Thor’s coronation sent him over the edge…” She looked at you and noticed your troubled features. “Oh but you mustn’t let that deter you from him. He’s a good person he’s just…”

“No, no...I think I get it. I’m sorry, your Majesty but I may know a way to stop this fight,” you offered. At Frigga’s words, something stirred inside you. You had felt a connection to Thor, but now… now you owed it to Loki to help him. He didn’t have to go through this alone. No wonder he was out of his mind. He was over one thousand years old and he just now learned of his true parentage. To not be wanted, not truly, by your adoptive family.

Frigga frowned at you at first but then nodded, permitting you to leave. With that, you took off into a sprint, hoping to find them. From what you could remember of the lore, the Bifrost had the ability to destroy other realms, perhaps that's where Loki went.

Nearly out of breath, feeling as if your lungs would explode, you ran down the rainbow bridge once more, to find that it was in fact being activated as a weapon of mass destruction, and the two princes were inside, shouting at each other.

“I never wanted the throne! I only ever wanted to be your equal!”

“I will not fight you, brother!”

“I’m not your brother, I never was!”

“Loki, this is madness!” Thor proclaimed.

“Is it madness? Is it? Is it?” he challenged, a sort of desperation in his tone. You approached slowly to the Bifrost, not wanting to startle either God.

When you entered, Loki’s mad eyes darted to you. They seemed erratic, crazed, but still as beautiful as ever.

“Your Majesty? Uh, King Loki?” you tried, entirely unsure how to address a mad King in a foreign land, that days ago was pretty much make-believe to you. “I know what you’re going through.”

“The human,” he mused, his head cocking to the side. “You brought back a souvenir?” Loki questioned, aiming it at Thor.

“She is not of Midgard, and you know it. You saw her with your own eyes and she saw you,” Thor insisted with a desperate plea, pointing to you with Mjolnir.

“So why bring her here?”

“To find answers,” you interjected, stepping even closer to him, to this mad, insane, hurting man. “As I’m sure that’s all you want to do too? Your mother told me, about the adoption? I’m adopted too, sort of. I never knew my real birth parents.”

“You and I are nothing alike,” Loki vowed, coldness in his words.

But you kept slowly closing the gap.

“I think we are. You’re a child out of place, lost, only wanting to prove yourself. You dwell in a shadow that no one else sees. You felt as if you didn’t belong for a long time, but without explanation. Yet when you got the explanation, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear,” you continued, merely reciting your own feelings. “I’m the same. I never felt I belonged to my family. In fact, I never felt I truly belonged anywhere… until Thor and you came to Earth. Then--Then I felt home. I felt strength, and wonder, and warmth.”

“What does any of that have to do with me?” he demanded, looking down at you.

“Because I can help you. Or at least try. Together, we can find answers. We can look into our pasts together,” you tried, holding out your hand. “All you have to do... is stop all of this. I know you want your father’s approval, I know you want to be seen as Thor’s equal… but killing this race, killing in the name of your country is not the way. We can find a better way together, if you only let me.”

You had no explanation, no reason to want to help this total stranger. Help Thor? Sure, he was kind enough to bring you back to a place that may have the truth about your parentage. But to get involved with this family-political war should’ve been beyond you. You were a mere physicist from Earth, what did you have to offer to this hurting god?

The truth was -- a lot.

“I can tell all you want is an ally, to be seen, to be heard,” you stated, hoping your words would sink in. “I can do that. I see you, I can listen. But your father will never accept something like this. He cast your brother out for the same act, don’t follow in his naive footsteps, learn from his mistakes…”

His eyes fell to the floor, darting from left to right in thought. He slowly walked over to the center of the Bifrost, the staff powering the surge protruding from the middle of the key.

Without looking back at you or Thor, he quietly said, “I’m not doing this because of you..” and removed the staff, effectively shutting down the Bifrost. “I want to know where I came from. I won’t kill the people of Jotunheim… At least not today.”

Not another word came from him as he swept between you and Thor and made his way back to the palace. You apologized to Thor for your speech, if you offended him in any way. He assured you that whatever got Loki to come to his senses was worth it.

The two of you returned to the palace, where Odin had woken peacefully, and now rightfully back as king. And all seemed to settle into back into place…

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