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raibebe · 4 years

Text

Of needles and seduction

Genre: Fluff and smut Words: 15.2k Prompt: Johnny tattoo shop AU featuring best friends Yangyang and Jaemin Warnings: contains smut, Daddy-kink, size-kink, mentions of mirror-sex

A/N: This is very self-indulgent, I’m sorry. While I do have piercings myself, I know next to nothing about tattoos, so I’m sorry if anything is inaccurate. Also I don’t advise what some characters in this are doing for yourself. Just a quick special thanks to @burtonized who has listened to me ramble about this story and Johnny and helped me write this by giving me ideas and support. Thank you darling! This fic is a beast, I have never written anything this long,it’s insane. If smut isn’t for you, you can stop reading after the phone call and still have a pretty decent story. If you feel like, you’ve seen this post before, you might have. I deleted the original one because tumblr decided to delete it from the tags.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You asked for what you felt was the tenth time in the past five minutes. “It’s going to be fine. The shop is clean and sanitary,” your friend Yangyang groaned while running his hands through his messy, blonde hair. It was getting way too long, hanging low into his eyes. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t seem like a safe place,” you mumbled but followed your hyper friend through a more than dubious looking side street of Itaewon. “Jaemin got his piercings done in the same shop and those healed just fine, stop being a baby,” the blonde said while rolling his eyes. He quickly checked his phone for the address of the (probably illegal) piercing and tattoo shop and took a sharp turn into an even shadier looking street. “I still don’t get while you need me to come with you when you want to get your nipples pierced for god knows what of a stupid reason.” “It’s easy,” Yangyang grinned at you, “Ten said I wouldn’t dare to do it. And I’m going to prove him wrong and you’re going to document the progress.” “Do you ever listen to yourself talk? You’re literally paying someone to stab you into your nipples to shove a piece of metal through it just to prove a point.” “It’s just one nipple though.” “How does that make it any better, Yangyang?” You deadpanned. Your friend groaned again. “I knew I should have taken Guanheng with me. He would have been supportive.” “He would also be supportive of getting ‘I love Tacos’ tattooed on your ass.” “He would,” Yangyang agreed with an exaggerated dreamy look on his face. “What a madlad.”

You sighed but couldn’t help smiling at his antics. You had befriended the hyper exchange student when you had been assigned to be partners for a group project for your mandarin class. Yangyang had only taken the class for extra credit and easy good grades while you were struggling like crazy and had seriously questioned all your life choices that had let to you taking the class. (But mostly you regretted listening to Renjun who had convinced you it would be an easy class.) The group project turned out to be rather easy when you had a native speaker as your partner and you had become fond of the younger student, staying in touch with him and helping him find his way around the big campus. If you had known that he was a package deal with a bunch of other equally hyper and questionably crazy exchange students, you might have thought a little longer about keeping in touch after the project was over. But who were you kidding, the other boys and Yangyang were incredibly dear to you and if Kun had his regular morning coffee, the others weren’t even that chaotic.

“That’s it,” Yangyang suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a small beat up looking wooden door that looked like it was ready to fall out of the doorway any second. But a little green neon sign that hang next to it flashed the word “open” onto the street indicating that a shop must be hiding behind it. Your arguably best friend quickly grabbed your hand as if he had been sensing that you were about to complain again and dragged you into the shop. A little bell jingled quietly when Yangyang closed the door behind you two. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves (hell you weren’t even the one to get stabbed with a needle) and took a look around the small room. It was small and poorly lit and every free space on the walls was plastered with drawings and photos of both freshly done and healed tattoos. You had to admit that whoever had done those had done a good job, they looked really neat. You guessed that at least two artists must be working in the shop. A good portion of the art were very neat black and white works (some looking freakishly realistic) while others were very vibrant and artistic.

With a confident bounce in his step, Yangyang went up to the counter to a man with wild bubblegum pink hair wearing a black tank top that showed off the ink on his arms and torso, all kept in black except for a deep red rose on the side of his neck. His eyes were lined with dark eyeliner, making them seem like dark bottomless orbs, and they were fixed to the screen of a laptop that was covered in stickers that were a wild mixture of cute characters and various rock and hip-hop bands. “And what brings you here?” The man asked with a surprisingly deep voice, turning his head towards your friend. “A friend of mine told me I could get pierced here,” Yangyang spoke, his hands fumbling with the loose threads of his sweater. “And if that was the case, what would you want to get pierced?” “My nipple.” At that the other man raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows. “People usually start off with getting an earring or something.” “Go hard or go home,” Yangyang grinned, making the other man snort. “If you have 70.000 Won in cash, I can look if one of the piercers is free.” When your friend got out his worn wallet and put a couple of bills onto the counter, the other man smiled for the first time. It didn’t quite fit his whole dark punk aesthetic but you couldn’t deny that he was really good looking.

“Don’t run away now kiddo, I’ll see if someone is free,” he grinned, “I’m Taeyong by the way.” When he disappeared behind a curtain made out of pearls into the back, Yangyang turned towards you with the biggest smile on his face. “I told you it was going to be fine.” You just hummed nonchalantly, still not entirely supportive of the whole idea. “One of the guys is ready in a bit,” Taeyong said when he came back to the main room. “Are you getting anything?” He asked, looking at you. “Oh no, she’s a scaredy-cat, just here for moral support and to document that I actually did it,” your friend answered for you. Your face immediately heated up under the intense gaze of the pink haired tattoo artist. “Too bad,” he just shrugged. “So technically you need to sign stuff for legal issues and whatnot. But since this place doesn’t exactly exist on records, we’re skipping that part. You’re not on drugs or any meds, right?” “I’m not,” Yangyang shook his head, making his hair flop back into his face. “Any issues with fainting or other medical conditions?” “Nope.” “Great. Had a good meal before coming here?” “I had breakfast,” Yangyang shrugged. “You had a slice of cold pizza from yesterday,” you groaned. “That I ate in the morning, therefore it’s breakfast,” he argued. “Well in that case,” Taeyong interrupted your bickering and threw a granola bar into Yangyang’s hands, “Eat that and let your girlfriend treat you to some proper food afterwards.” Before the blonde could deny anything, you had already opened your mouth to tell the other man that in fact you weren’t dating.

“Sure, sorry for assuming,” he shrugged and sat back behind the counter, taking out an iPad and began drawing something, probably a tattoo design. “Nervous yet?” You asked Yangyang who was uncharacteristically quiet while munching on the granola bar. “Shit, I’m really doing this,” he replied, exhaling shakily. “You don’t actually have to, Yangyang,” you tried to comfort him. “And let Ten just get away like that? No way. I am doing this. I’m not his little baby Yangyang anymore,” he said like the stubborn child he was. You could just sigh and roll your eyes at him. “He might have just been joking, you know?” “One does not simply challenge Liu Yangyang like that and not expect consequences.” “Kun is going to actually flip and pop a vein,” you tried to reason with your friend for a last time. Kun was doing a lot of coordination work for the exchange students with a Chinese background and had taken on almost a fatherly role for the younger students that hadn’t been in Korea for long. And even though Ten wasn’t even that much younger than Kun, he almost lost his otherwise calm composure when the Thai boy had announced that he successfully had pierced his ear by himself yet again after he had convinced a poor med student to smuggle some equipment for him. And from there the situation had somehow escalated into Ten daring Yangyang to get a nipple piercing. “Well he can’t do anything about it once it’s done. We’ll just make sure he’s with someone who can call an ambulance if he ends up having an aneurism.”

“Someone still wants their nipple pierced?” A new voice interrupted your conversation and a tall man with dark inky hair came into the room, making the pearls of the curtain clink against each other. One side of his head was shaved while the longer hair on the other side framed his handsome face beautifully. He was wearing a loose black T-shirt paired with ripped jeans with almost as many holes as there was fabric that hugged his long legs perfectly, showing that he had also ink on his legs. From his lobe dangled a little silver chain and of course his arms were covered in intricate designs, one arm strictly black ink while the other sported some colorful pieces as well. In the center of his plush lower lip sat a black ring and just beneath his left eye two little silver balls were reflecting the low light. You couldn’t deny that the man looked absolutely stunning despite his unusual appearance.

“Yes, me,” Yangyang eagerly answered the man’s question and walked towards him, tugging you with him. “Too bad,” the piercer grinned cheekily and winked in your direction, making your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, before he extended a big hand to shake Yangyang’s much smaller one. “I’m Johnny,” he introduced himself before leading you both into a smaller room in the back with a simple black padded bench in the middle of the room and a desk tucked into a corner. The walls were plastered with art and photos like the main room, showing that Johnny apparently was able to pull off a bunch of different tattoo styles. He seemed to have a thing for florals and roses though. The only free space was taken up by a full body mirror at the opposite wall. Johnny sat down on the little stool that was standing by the desk and motioned for Yangyang to sit on the bench while you sat down in the only other chair in the room, made of worn looking black leather.

“Let me see your chest before we start this whole thing,” Johnny spoke to your friend after he had grabbed a pair of silver framed glasses that sat low on his elegant nose and slipped on a fresh pair of black gloves. With only slightly trembling hands, Yangyang pulled his sweater over his head, keeping his hands buried in the fabric. “Looks good to me. Left or right one?” “Ehrm, I haven’t really thought about it,” he confessed. Johnny chuckled. “Spontaneous decision to get your nipple pierced?” “He does it to prove a point to a friend,” you supplied before Yangyang had the chance to answer. “Seems like a valid reason,” the tattoo artist grinned, “You play guitar or anything where the strap could irritate the new piercing?” “Just the violin,” Yangyang supplied, demonstrating how he would hold his instrument. “Then I’d suggest we go for the left one,” Johnny concluded, grabbing a bunch of stuff he needed. “Is it going to hurt badly?” “No idea, mine aren’t pierced.” “The first one is fine,” another voice chimed into the conversation and a pink mess of hair appeared in the doorway. “My client is there and Jaehyun isn’t back from his break yet, have an open ear for the door.” Johnny just hummed but it seemed enough to satisfy Taeyong who disappeared just as quickly as he had appeared.

“You ready?” Johnny asked one last time. Yangyang took a deep but shaky breath and nodded. “You better film this so Ten knows it’s real,” he said, holding out his phone towards you. Rolling your eyes, you got up from your actually really comfortable chair and took the phone from your best friend’s hands while Johnny disinfected Yangyang’s nipple and drew two little circles where the bar would go through it before grabbing a small mirror to show him. “Let’s do this,” your best friend nodded and you pressed record. “It’ll be quick,” Johnny promised, disinfecting one last time before he grabbed a pair of tongs to hold the nipple in place and freed a needle from a foil package. “I’ll count to three and then I’ll start, alright?” “A-Alright.” “Last time to chicken out.” “No, I’m doing this,” Yangyang gritted out, closing his eyes. After that everything happened really fast: Johnny counted to three and steadily pushed the needle through Yangyang’s nipple, who bit his lip hard. He then let the needle dangle from the nipple while freeing a little barbell from another foil package to insert it through the canal he just had made. “And that’s it,” he announced when he secured the little balls on either side of the barbell. You ended the recording when Yangyang left out the breath he had been holding in. “Now no sports, especially no swimming or sexual activities for a while. Clean it well and don’t worry if it gets sore, that’s normal. It can take a while to heal, so be patient and don’t let it get infected. You can get a smaller barbell or a ring once it’s healed. Just come back to get it changed to be safe.” “Fuck I really did that,” Yangyang cursed and looked down to his chest, “I think I need a minute before I can get up.”

“Take your time, I don’t have any clients for another half an hour,” Johnny reassured him, putting the used materials into the trash. “Just please don’t vomit all over the floor or hit your head while fainting.” “That has happened before?” You asked, eyes wide. “Not on me but it’s not unheard of. You sure you don’t want anything?” he asked, turning towards you. His silver framed glasses had slid down his nose a little and you couldn’t deny that the man looked really hot, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “She’s too scared,” Yangyang teased. He couldn’t feel too bad if he still could do that then. “Too bad, I think you would really suit a little conch or something,” the piercer motioned around his own ear to indicate what piercing he meant. “A conch?” You asked, turning towards the mirror to try to imagine it. “Wait let me show you.” Johnny quickly got up to search through the drawers of his desk before he pulled out a little box with a bunch of jewelry, grabbing a small hoop. He stood behind you in front of the mirror. “Hold still for me,” he breathed and bend down to push your hair behind your ear before he carefully put the fake piercing in place. For a moment you could swear that time had stopped. You felt his breath fanning over your skin gently and could smell the intoxicating smell of his cologne. You were so close to each other, you were sure that if you turned your head, your noses would brush against each other. But before you could do anything stupid, Johnny pulled back and gently turned your head so you could see the little silver ring. “I think I could put an even smaller one if you wanted,” he said, watching you through the mirror with an intense gaze from his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about getting a piercing,” you admitted shyly. While you did get your lobes pierced when you were a child, you never thought of it much. “It looks good. Not so much like daddy’s good girl anymore,” the piercer grinned. You almost choked on air when the words left his plush lips, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“How much?” “For you I’ll do it for free, darling,” he grinned, running a hand through his thick dark hair, making his muscles shift beneath his inked skin. While your brain was still short-circuiting from the nickname, Yangyang seemed to be back to 100%, destroying whatever the atmosphere between you and the tattoo artist just was. “Are you really going to say no to a free piercing, dude?” You could just groan and roll your eyes at your best friend. “Stop calling me dude, Yangyang.” “Only if you get that piercing.” “That’s blackmailing.” “Just do it, it won’t even hurt right?” “It’s just a bit of pressure,” Johnny assured you, his lips curled into a smile. “I can always take it out if I don’t end up liking it,” you thought out aloud. “The beauty of temporary body modifications,” Johnny sighed before he stepped in front of you to take the fake piercing off again. With his face so close to yours again, your eyes traveled over the little silver balls beneath his left eye, over his elegant nose down to the black ring in his lower lip and you briefly wondered what it would feel like to kiss him. “So what will it be?” You looked over to your best friend who had put his hoodie back on and nodded his head enthusiastically, making his fluffy hair flop into his eyes. He really needed a haircut.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you decided. “That’s what I like to hear,” Johnny grinned and moved to get his stuff ready. “Need me to hold your hand?” Yangyang grinned when you took his place on the bench. “I wouldn’t want to contaminate you with girl germs,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some girl germs if they’re coming from such a pretty girl,” Johnny cut in when he rolled back over on his stool, his glasses pushed back up his nose again. You couldn’t even fight the heat that crept onto your face at his words, he sure could feel it radiating off your cheeks from where his gloved hands were touching your skin. “I’ll do it where I placed the fake one, just with a smaller ring, alright?” He spoke softly when he disinfected your ear. You could just nod, anxiety taking over, making your heart race and skin prickle. When you heard the plastic bag that held the sterile needle rip, you pressed your eyes shut and balled your hands to fists. “Take a deep breath for me, doll,” Johnny mumbled, gently caressing your skin where he had grabbed your face to stabilize you. “In and out.” You shakily did as he asked you, his low voice comforting and calming your anxiety a lot. “Now you breathe in and let me count to three, then you gently release that breath. Can you do that for me, darling?” “Yeah,” you breathed, eyes still closed so you missed the soft smile on Johnny’s face. “Alright, deep breath in. One, two, three,” the pain of the needle piercing through your skin made you clench your fists harder, “And breathe out.” You tried your best to release the breath evenly until the pressure of the needle was just a low thudding. “You’re doing great, darling,” the handsome piercer reassured you, “I’ll just push the ring through and we’re all done here. Take another breath for me.” This time the feeling wasn’t as painful, just a really uncomfortable feeling of pressure. “All done, pretty,” Johnny concluded, clicking the ring closed. “Open your eyes.”

When you did open your eyes again, he held the little hand mirror from before in his still gloved hands so you could see the little ring that sat against your ear now. The skin was a bright red and you could feel your pulse throb around the metal but it actually fit the shape of your ear really nicely. “Thank you,” you smiled at Johnny. “It’s been a pleasure,” he winked before gathering the used needle and tissues to throw them away. “Take good care of it and try to not sleep on that side for a couple of nights and it will be healed in no time.” “Let’s go home, big baby,” Yangyang chirped in, already on his feet to leave the room. “I’m starving.” “There’s a good ramen shop a little up the street, not too expensive either,” Johnny recommended.

“Thanks for the piercings, man,” your best friend thanked the artist when he took you back to the main room. “No big deal,” Johnny shrugged and sat down where Taeyong had sat before, putting his long legs up on the counter. “Well, have a nice day, maybe we’ll come back for more some time,” Yangyang grinned, opening the door to leave the shop. “Oh I’m sure you will,” the artist replied, locking eyes with you before winking. “Take good care of that piercing, doll. You know where you have to come to if you want more.” You nodded shyly before bowing to the man. “Thank you, Johnny.” “I’ll see you again,” it wasn’t a question. Somehow you and him both knew that this wouldn’t be the last time you would step into the shady tattoo shop.

The next time that you found yourself in the shady streets of Itaewon came faster than you had thought. This time you were accompanying Jaemin to his tattoo appointment after Jeno had ditched him because he had to take over a shift at the cat café he worked at. (That poor boy had to take antihistamines before every shift because of his allergies but couldn’t resist the charm of the kittens.) “You’re a lifesaver seriously,” the hyper boy repeated while jumping up and down excitedly, “Sitting still for hours on end is really so boring if you have no one to talk to.” “Can’t you talk to your artist?” You asked confused. “He threatened to stab me with the tattoo gun the last time when I was trying to talk to him while he worked,” Jaemin pouted. You could only imagine how irritating Jaemin and his moods could be to someone who wasn’t used to him. Ever since he had decided that he wanted to commit to what he had dubbed a soft punk look, he had been going to the shop somewhat regularly to start a collection of tattoos and piercings. It had started a year ago when he first had dyed his hair to a light blue color. Shortly after that he had first gotten his ears and then his nose pierced. The two lip rings in his lower lip were his newest addition as far as piercings went. The tattoos came a little later. After much consideration he had made the decision to start a floral piece on his arm, the center would be a hummingbird, all with black ink for now.

After a little bit of Instagram stalking you had easily identified the intricate flowers that adored Jaemin’s upper arm as Johnny’s work and the thought of seeing the handsome tattoo artist again had made your heart beat faster in your chest. Not that Jaemin needed to know that you weren’t coming with him for his sake but rather because of your desire to see the dark haired flirty man again. You had been thinking about his dark eyes behind his silver framed glasses and how he scrunched his eyebrows when he was concentrating a lot for the last weeks. (Not that you had replayed the video of him piercing Yangyang an unhealthy amount of times or anything…) Every time you took care of your new piercing it reminded you of how his fingers felt on your skin and how his deep voice had gently guided you through everything. Not to forget how easily the pet names had rolled from his lips. And oh god his lips… His Instagram account featured a good amount of pictures of himself both casual and while working and the way his plush lips would curl into a confident smirk did things to your heart. His latest update had been the actual death of yours though. It had shown the new tattoo he had gotten recently: It was an intricate eagle that spread over his muscled chest, the feathers of the wings blending seamlessly into the other art covering his strong shoulders and biceps. Did you already mention that he was freaking shirtless in the picture? And that he was hiding a seriously ripped body beneath the wide T-Shirt he wore the last time you were at the shop? So to say that your thoughts had started to spiral after seeing that post was a little understated.

You still felt a little uneasy when you followed Jaemin through the backstreets of Itaewon but when the shabby door with the neon green ‘open’ sign came in sight, you felt the feeling disappear, only for it to be replaced with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Jaemin grinned widely when he pushed the door open and his good mood was always infectious, a smile creeping on your lips. This time a new man sat at the counter, lazily rocking back and forth on the chair with his phone in his hand. His hair was dark and hung into his eyes and he wore a dark, long sleeved hoodie, so you couldn’t see if he had as many tattoos as his colleagues but if the tattoos on his hands and neck were any indication, he must be pretty covered as well. You recognized the rose on the back of his hand from one of Johnny’s Instagram posts. When the man looked up, you saw that he didn’t only have tattoos but piercings as well: In his lower lip sat two rings right next to each other, a ring dangled from his nose and two little silver balls sat in the hollows of his dimples that showed when he smiled at Jaemin. “Back for more?” He asked with a deep, rumbling voice and got up to greet Jaemin properly, bumping their shoulders together. “Got an appointment with Johnny for my sleeve,” the blue haired boy replied. “I see the snake bites healed well.” “Done by the best piercer of the shop.” “You know it,” the man laughed, throwing an arm around Jaemin. “Brought your girlfriend?” “I’m just a friend,” you quickly corrected the piercer. (Why couldn’t you just platonically join a friend for his tattoo session?) “Alright, just a friend, I’m Jaehyun. Johnny should be ready by now. You know the way?” Jaemin nodded and pulled you with him to Johnny’s room.

When Jaemin pulled the curtain to the room open, you weren’t prepared for what you were seeing: Johnny was standing in front of the full length mirror with his black button up shirt unbuttoned, applying cream to his still tender looking eagle tattoo on his chest, making his beautiful sunkissed skin glisten. “You’re early, Jaem,” he spoke. “Jaehyun said you were already ready,” the blue haired boy shrugged and plopped down onto the black bench. “Oh you brought company,” Johnny turned around when he spotted you and grinned, “I knew you’d come back, doll. How’s your piercing healing?” You had to summon all your strength to rip your eyes from Johnny’s strong and glistening chest to meet his dark eyes. “It’s fine as far as I know, doesn’t hurt anymore,” you stumbled across your words. Couldn’t he just button his shirt back up? “Let me see.” Before you could protest he had made two big steps and was right in front of you, the intoxicating smell of his perfume filling your senses. He gently tucked your hair back to have a look at the piercing and you swore you could feel electricity buzz beneath your skin where he had touched you. “You took great care of it, darling. Not regretting it yet?” “No, I like it.” I like you. The words had laid on your tongue but you managed to swallow them back down.

“Stop flirting with her, I’m the one paying for your attention,” Jaemin whined from where he was sitting. You of course immediately felt all your blood rush to your head but Johnny just chuckled. “I haven’t seen any cash yet, boy.” The tattoo artist gave you a last wink before turning towards his actual client, buttoning his shirt back up but leaving the last two buttons unbuttoned, letting the head of the eagle just barely poke out. Taking a deep breath you sat down in the worn leather chair while Jaemin handed Johnny a bunch of bills that the taller quickly counted. “Alright, I’m all yours for the next five hours or so,” he grinned, “You saw the drafts I sent you?” Jaemin nodded while he took off his jacket and rolled up the sleeve of his T-Shirt to expose the ink on his arm. It was already beautiful even though it wasn’t even halfway done. The hummingbird was still missing its shading and he hung in the air for now, the flowers and leaves stopping above its head. “Yeah, I’m still not sure about the color though. Can’t we just do more flowers instead?” “Sure but the inner arm and near the elbow is going to hurt like a bitch. So it’s either that or you let me color that hummingbird.” Jaemin groaned dramatically, turning his arm to look into the mirror. “He does look weird just half-finished like that.” “So color it is?” Johnny asked while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt a bit, exposing his own tattoos: A snake like dragon curled around his entire right arm, kept in all black ink. “I really liked that green-blue watercolor thing you sent,” Jaemin supplied when he turned to lie down. “Right, then I’ll do some flowers directly surrounding the bird and color that thing.” He snapped his black gloves on and turned to prepare his machine and the colors.

“Come closer with that stupid chair,” Jaemin whined, making grabby hands at you. After Johnny nodded, you pushed the chair closer with great effort. “Are you going to whine for the whole time?” You groaned but smiled fondly at your friend. “Most likely,” Johnny answered instead of Jaemin and rolled over on his little stool, his silver framed glasses back on his nose and a pen between his lips. “I’ll freehand a bunch of flowers first to make sure they fit around that little guy nicely.” “And I thought you liked putting others in pain,” Jaemin joked when Johnny adjusted a little lamp and began to draw flower after flower. It was really fascinating how quick his hand drew delicate petals and leaves, filling up the space around the hummingbird. “Oh if I put others in pain, they usually like it,” he grinned, his voice dropping an octave. You almost choked on plain air and had to try to mask it as coughing but if the way Johnny’s eyes twinkled was any indication, he had seen right through it and dared to be smug about it. “Wow my third appointment and we’re already talking about kinks?” “Sorry Jaem, not interested,” the artist laughed, “I’m more into cute girls.” He leaned back to examine his drawing, throwing you another quick wink. You barely held in a squeak. He really wasn’t even trying to be subtle about his flirting anymore. “Ready for the big gun?” “Oh dick jokes now, nice,” Jaemin chuckled while you were sure your head was about to explode from how much blood was collecting in there. You covered your hot cheeks with your hands in a hopeless attempt to cool them. “Oh look Johnny, she’s getting shy already.” “I haven’t even started yet, baby.” That was it. This man was going to be the death of you. You really didn’t need to know what it sounded like when he spoke those words that were dripping with honey. “Why did I agree to come with you?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Because you missed me”, Johnny said at the same time as Jaemin said: “Because you’re a good friend.”

After a beat of silence in which Johnny arranged his actual tattoo gun and Jaemin stared at you while his smile grew bigger and bigger, he asked: “Now which one is it?” “I’m not answering that,” you mumbled from beneath your fingers. “No answer is an answer as well,” Jaemin singsang but luckily the low buzzing of the tattoo machine saved you from any further embarrassment… For now… “Now hold still or I’ll actually stab you,” Johnny warned before he dipped the needle into black ink and began to trace the lines he had just drawn on with a fine needle. “Yessir,” Jaemin joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Johnny was unusually quiet while he worked, completely tuning out the chatter of you and Jaemin about shitty professors and assignments. You were absolutely fascinated by the confidence he radiated while dragging the needle over his client’s skin. He went back and forth between two different tattoo guns and rubbed Jaemin’s skin every now and then to get rid of excess ink. Soon Jaemin’s whole upper arm was decorated with delicate flowers and leaves and Johnny leaned back to both take a deep breath while stretching his back and to look at his work. “Let’s take a break before I do the color,” he proposed, wiping down the skin. “It looks great,” you complimented his work, taking a picture for Jaemin so he could see it himself. “Damn that pain really pays off,” your friend grinned, zooming in and out of the picture before posting it to his Instagram. “Does it hurt badly?” “You get used to it,” he shrugged, not taking his eyes from his feed, “It’s more like someone continuously scratching you.” “I can show you if you want,” Johnny chimed in from where he was cleaning his tattoo gun from the black ink. “I don’t think I’m spontaneous enough for a sudden tattoo.” “Not even if I offer it for free again?” He laughed. “I’m not mentally prepared for that,” you tried to reason. “I can still show you how it feels though. Without ink.” You shyly nodded and held out your arm for him that he quickly wiped down with disinfectant when he was done putting a fresh needle into the gun. “Just don’t flinch, darling,” he softly spoke before the buzzing of his tattoo gun filled the silence. You expected it to hurt a lot more when the needle touched your skin but it really wasn’t that bad. It was an odd kind of pain you couldn’t really describe. “It’s not that bad,” you told him, looking into his beautiful brown eyes behind his glasses. “It hurts more when it’s directly on the bone or at a more tender area,” Johnny explained and turned the gun off again, bending down to look at the slightly reddened skin of your arm before chucking the used needle into the nearby trashcan. “Let’s patch that up real quick, just treat it like any other scratch.” You nodded and let the handsome man put a band-aid over it. But before you could pull your arm back again, he leaned down to press a kiss on the cloth “For a good and quick healing,” he breathed and grinned smugly when you quickly turned your head away to hide your heated face.

“When you’re done flirting, will you finally put some color into me?” Jaemin interrupted, grinning widely. “That’s what she said,” you mumbled under your breath, making Johnny chuckle. “All you need to do is ask, darling.” Before you could even wrap your mind around what the tattoo artist had just implied, he had already rolled back over to your blue haired friend to take a look at the hummingbird. “Alright let’s do this,” he grinned before wiping down the skin once more. The buzzing of a new machine filled the room and Jaemin scrunched his eyes shut when the needle dipped in turquoise ink met his skin. “This is nasty,” he complained. “Don’t be a baby,” Johnny murmured, dragging the needle over your friend’s skin that accepted the ink quickly. “You want to hold my hand?” You giggled. What you didn’t expect was for Jaemin to actually reach out to you with his unoccupied arm, making a grabby hand. “Jeno always holds my hand,” he whined. “You’re such a big baby, Nana,” you sighed but still laced your fingers together, yelping loudly when Jaemin squeezed down hard. “You said it didn’t even hurt, you big liar,” you squeezed out between gritted teeth. “You’re not the one getting stabbed,” Jaemin argued, “That shit hurts different than the black.” “It’s a different needle,” Johnny explained, “People usually say it hurts less than outlines though.” “It’s not more or less, it’s just different.” “Well it’s going to hurt more if you keep seizing up like that, relax.” “You’re one to fucking talk,” Jaemin sounded upset. “Don’t curse at me for giving you a pretty tattoo,” Johnny just said, dipping his needle into the little pot that held the color again. “Talk him through it,” the artist said to you, looking up from behind his glasses that had slipped down his nose again.

“Hey, remember that time when Donghyuck was so drunk he wanted to jump from the roof into the pool at that frat house?” You quickly said, the silly story coming to mind first. The memory made Jaemin giggle. “Jeno and Mark had so much trouble holding him back once he managed to climb out of the window,” the blue haired boy chuckled. “They were lucky they didn’t fall off.” “That would have made for an even better story though,” Jaemin laughed. “They could have hurt themselves,” you said, scandalized, “You’re hanging out with Renjun too much.” Jaemin didn’t answer, instead he just hummed and wiggled his dark eyebrows.

“Did you ever go to college?” You asked Johnny out of curiosity even though Jaemin had said that the artist preferred to keep quiet and concentrate on his work. “Do I look like I went?” He just laughed, cocking one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows at you when he looked up. “Well, I didn’t want to assume,” you shied away under his gaze. “I dropped out of high school to learn tattooing,” Johnny shared while painting Jaemin’s skin as blue as his hair, “I wasn’t good in school anyways. So art school or something wasn’t an option either. Not that I would have had any money for that.” “What made you want to pick up tattooing then?” You asked curiously. “Art usually is very temporarily and if you make a mistake, you can just erase it or paint over it with another color. Not so much with tattoos. I like that. It’s immortal as long as you don’t start shooting lasers at it.” “I’ve never thought about it like that,” you confessed. Tattooing had never seemed like art to you but that was exactly what it was. Just not on a canvas but under your skin. “Thinking about getting one now?” Jaemin teased, squeezing your hand that he still held. “I haven’t even told my parents about the piercing,” you scoffed, “They would disown me.” “Well too bad, I know a pretty good tattoo artist,” he joked and poked his tongue out. “Do you now?” Johnny asked, a grin on his lips, wiping down Jaemin’s arm before going in with a lighter color. “Yeah, he works in this shady ass shop in Itaewon and I am pretty sure you can buy drugs there as well.” “Those are not for sale,” the artist chuckled when he saw your scandalized expression. “It’s just anesthetics for certain piercing procedures, calm down doll.” “So sadly, it turns out you can’t buy drugs at their shop but it still looks shady and I’m pretty sure they’re paying part of the mafia so the police won’t come to investigate.” “I know nothing of transactions of this sort,” Johnny commented before you could get an actual heart attack. Illegally tattooing and piercing was one thing but mingling with the mafia was a whole other thing. “Anyways, he does pretty cool tattoos and pierces as well,” Jaemin continued, a grin on his lips, “Also talking male to male here, he’s pretty ripped.” At that Johnny started grinning as well. “Wanna know his name?” Jaemin asked you when Johnny turned to clean his needle and you just rolled your eyes but nodded, wondering what he was getting out of all of this. “It’s Jaehyun.” “Excuse me?” Johnny exclaimed with wide eyes when both you and your blue haired friend started laughed at his stupid joke. “This kid,” he mumbled and shook his head before putting the needle back to Jaemin’s skin who seemed to have forgotten to whine about the pain.

The rest of the appointment was spend with you and Jaemin chatting about this and that and a short video call from a red eyed Jeno who had finished his shift at the cat café and wanted to apologize and promised to buy you two dinner after you were done. “I think that’s all I can do for today,” Johnny said after he had stared at the little hummingbird for a while, “Your skin took the color well but if I do any more, I’ll stress the skin too much. I can go in another time if I need to fix anything.” Jaemin nodded, sitting up so he could inspect the colorful hummingbird in the mirror. “Wow that looks sick,” he commented, his eyes going wide, “Totally worth the pain.” “That’s what I wanna hear,” the artist grinned, grabbing some paper towels to rub the tattoo down once more. “Let me snap a picture to post.”

After both men had taken about 20 photos each, Johnny quickly wrapped Jaemin’s arm in plastic wrap, reminding him how to take care of it. “Text me for the next session, I think we could fit some pretty roses at the bottom. Maybe add a dash of color here and there or other animals,” the artist smiled, slipping the glasses off his nose, gently placing them on the table. “I’ll think about it but first I gotta slave away behind the bar to make more money,” Jaemin sighed, shrugging his jacket back on. “And you darling?” Johnny asked, putting on his confident smile again. “When will I see you again?” You just stared at him, at a loss for an answer. Did he really want to see you again? But before you could even open your mouth, Jaemin had already pulled your phone from your grasp, unlocked it and shoved it towards Johnny. “Put your number in already,” he sighed and rolled his eyes dramatically. Laughing, Johnny did as your friend had said. “Very smooth, Jaem.” “I- I guess I’ll text you,” you stuttered when Johnny gave your phone back, your fingers tingling where his touched yours. “I’ll be waiting, darling,” he winked, raking a hand through his inky strands. “Alright, time to leave, before you start drooling,” Jaemin destroyed the intense atmosphere and grabbed your arm to pull you back to the main room and out of the parlor, leaving a laughing Johnny behind in his room.

“I wasn’t even drooling, what the fuck Jaemin,” you argued when you were outside, your phone clutched to your chest. “Stop complaining, I got you his number, you should be thankful,” he just grinned, absolutely shameless, tugging you along through the little street. “I will not thank you for embarrassing me in front of him,” you pouted, unlocking your phone to confirm that Johnny had indeed put his number into the contacts with a little black heart behind his name.

“Is it too early to text him?” You asked when you and Jaemin sat in the subway on the way to his and Jeno’s dorm to take him up on his offer for food. Your friend just laughed at you, making an elderly man scowl at the two of you, who shook his head in disapproval. Well, Jaemin’s visuals didn’t help him when he acted like this in public. But as long as he didn’t care, you wouldn’t care either. “Text him after we’ve eaten,” he advised you. “Then you don’t seem as desperate as you are,” he added, which earned him a punch to his not tattooed arm.

All through dinner, Jaemin retold every embarrassing moment that happened at the tattoo parlor, making Jeno laugh so hard that he almost choked on his rice. You really needed to find new friends. These ones were just harassing you at this point. (Aside from the fact that Jaemin had indeed managed to get you Johnny’s number, you’d thank him later when he couldn’t make fun at you.)

Later that night, you laid in bed in your own dorm room, staring at the screen of your phone. Your fingers were hovering over the keyboard but you really couldn’t think of what you should text Johnny. You didn’t want to seem weird. With how confident he was, he probably did this a lot and you were too proud to make a fool of yourself. Groaning you tossed and turned in your bed for a while, still staring at the empty chat box that by now must be mocking you for your cowardice. Sighing you typed out another short message to immediately delete it again. Should you just send him a simple ‘Hi’ or ask him if he had eaten? How the rest of his day went? In moments like this you whished you were more confident in yourself.

The sound of an incoming message suddenly filled the room and made you jerk. When you saw Johnny’s name on the screen, your heart first stopped for a second before it started beating about three times as fast as it should. How did that happen? With shaking hands you unlocked the phone to see that you in fact didn’t delete the last message but accidentally send it. Luckily it wasn’t as embarrassing as it could have been and Johnny had just answered that he was glad that you had finally texted him. Before you could think of an answer he sent another text asking you why you were still awake this late when he expected you to be a ‘good girl’. You could practically hear his smirk and you couldn’t fight the heat that rose to your cheeks. You replied that you were already in bed and were about to sleep if he was concerned about your sleep pattern that honestly wasn’t the greatest ever since the semester had started. ‘Oh, sexting already’ he replied, making you shriek in embarrassment. Was this what your message had looked like? ‘You alone?’ He asked and with a furiously beating heart you answered with a simple yes.

A couple of seconds went by with no answer from him which definitely didn’t lower your anxiety before the loud sound of your ringtone tore through the silence, Johnny’s name on the display. You quickly answered it to not wake up anyone on your floor, pressing it tightly to your ear. “Hello?” “Good evening, miss,” you heard the rumble of Johnny’s voice, “Missed me already?” “You’re the one who called,” you argued, making the man on the other end of the line giggle. “That is true.” “Why did you call?” You asked curiously, shifting to lie down on your back, staring at the ceiling. “Just wanted some company. My last client just left and I’m cleaning up the shop for today, the others already left,” he explained. “Jaehyun and Taeyong?” “Yeah those two guys,” he sighed and you heard him rummaging in the background. “Is it just you three at the shop?” “Yeah, it was just me and Taeyong at first but Jaehyun is an incredibly quick learner once he had found someone who was willing to teach him a thing or two. So he quickly joined the two of us.” You just hummed, your fingers playing with your hair, unsure of what to say. It was somehow easier to talk to him like this when you couldn’t see his eyes twinkle in mischief or his lips curling up in that confident smirk. Like this he was just a boy who wanted company and not an insanely handsome, heavily tattooed man who flirted shamelessly. “Do you usually work this late?” You asked to fill the silence and out of curiosity as well. If the shop wasn’t legal there sure weren’t any laws regulating how long the artists were supposed to work. “I don’t,” Johnny laughed, “But thank you for your concern. I was just tattooing a friend for free after my last paying client left because he was in the area.” “You do that a lot? Offering up your services for free?” “Just for friends and special people, doll,” he chuckled, “Why? Are you considering getting inked after all?”

Well were you? You didn’t even know at this point. Whenever you had thought of tattoos you had only ever thought about big bold and very black lines, of skulls, names of exes on your skin forever and warped pictures of people’s faces. But never of delicate flowers, bright colors and intricate designs. Johnny had made it obvious that it was art that he was doing and that it wasn’t just some technical procedure to get color beneath your skin. “I- I don’t know,” you confessed, “I never thought much about tattoos until Jaemin started getting them.” “I thought so,” the artist chuckled, “But I bet I could design a pretty piece that would compliment you nicely.” “I don’t think I’m the type for it though,” you argued, thinking about the amount of ink on Johnny’s body and you hadn’t even seen half of it. (Not that you planned on doing so but you were curious to know if there was more hiding beneath his clothes.) “It doesn’t have to be an obvious one. Just something only you know about.” That really got you thinking. His tattoos were really delicate and you had seen that he could write in really pretty cursive. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything, darling. But if you ever want one, you know who to ask.”

“Yeah, thank you Johnny,” you murmured, lost in thought about how you would look like with multiple tattoos. “I like the way you say my name.” “You- what?” You stuttered when he caught you off guard like that, making him laugh. “You’re cute,” he said once he had calmed down. “Stop pouting,” he added when you weren’t answering. “How did you know I was?” Johnny chuckled again. “I just knew.” “Thank you for keeping me company,” he said when you hadn’t said anything in a while. “It’s alright. I like talking to you,” you confessed. You could hear a door closing and his deep chuckle on the other end of the line. “You probably hear that a lot…” you murmured, embarrassed at how the words had slipped past your lips. “I actually don’t,” Johnny said, “I appreciate the words, darling. I’m all done cleaning up now, thank you for keeping me company.” “It’s fine, no need to thank me.” “You should go sleep now, it’s already late. Sweet dreams, doll. Maybe I’ll even visit you.” “Goodnight, Johnny,” you squeaked. The last thing you heard before he ended the call was another chuckle and a hushed goodbye. Smiling widely you turned your face into your pillow to muffle the scream you let out. How could this man make your heart beat faster like that with just a few simple words? And why did this short phone call make you so happy? Sighing, you put your phone to your nightstand and cuddled tightly into your blanket, the thought of Johnny’s smooth voice guiding you to sleep where he indeed did visit you.

After that initial phone call, Johnny called you more and more often. Sometimes when he was on his lunch break and his colleagues were still working, sometimes later at night when your head was spinning from studying and he was cleaning up the shop. You two talked about your days, you complained about professors, deadlines and assignments and he told you about tattooing and his sometimes crazy clients. And every now and then Johnny would bring up his offer to tattoo you. Which made your thoughts spiral every single time. In class you would scroll through Johnny’s Instagram account, imagining what some of the intricate, more feminine designs would look like on your skin. After much consideration you definitely ruled out anything big or colorful. But something small wouldn’t hurt, right? Well it would, you would be giving him permission to stab you with an automated needle a bunch of times which in itself sounded really scary. But Jaemin’s tattoo looked nice. And after his skin had peeled, the hummingbird truly looked absolutely incredible and you couldn’t wait for him to visit the shop again to keep working on the sleeve.

So in a whim of bravery and with the help of the little glass of wine you had drank you told Johnny that he should tattoo you. “Are you for real?” He asked. “I am,” you giggled, “I’ve thought about it a lot the past weeks.” “I am honored, darling. What will it be?” “Something small and no colors please,” you told him. “That’s all you’re asking for?” “Yeah, I… I like the simple black stuff you do,” you stuttered, suddenly really nervous and unsure if this was actually a good idea. “I’ll design something that’ll match you perfectly,” Johnny promised, sounding very eager. You could hear some rummaging on his end of the line. “I could fit you in Friday evening after my last client. It won’t be too late and I need some time to come up with a design that’s worthy of being in your body.” You swallowed dryly. If you said yes, you couldn’t back out anymore. You would be getting inked. Secretly. Without telling anyone. Not to mention illegally. In a reasonably shady shop that was owned by the most gorgeous man you had ever met. Taking a deep breath, you nodded before you realized that he couldn’t see that. “I’ll be there,” you promised. “I’m looking forward to it, doll,” Johnny said before he wished you sweet dreams just like every time when he called you late at night.

The neon light in front of the door to the shop was already shut off when you arrived the next Friday late in the evening but the door gave away when you pushed it open with trembling hands after taking a deep breath. “I thought you weren’t going to come, darling, you left me waiting,” Johnny greeted you, jumping down from the counter he had sat on. He was wearing a simple black t-shirt with a little white rose design over his heart that fit him perfectly. His hair was elegantly swept back, exposing the freshly shaved part on the side. “I’m sorry,” you mumbled, fumbling with the sleeves of your hoodie. “Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you,” he promised, quickly locking the front door before taking you to his room where he motioned for you to sit on the bench. “Do you trust me?” He asked, tipping your head up so you would look into his dark eyes. “I- I think I do,” you stuttered. “I won’t tell you what you’re getting,” Johnny grinned and your eyes widened in shock. “You will like it and it’s not that big.” “I’m not sure, Johnny,” you voiced your concerns but he just pressed his index finger to your lips before you could say any more. Your breath hitched and he could definitely feel your shaky exhale against his finger. “You said you trust me, doll.” Taking another shaky breath, you nodded and a smile spread over his plush lips. “I need you to take off your shirt and lie down on your left side,” he spoke, his voice casual but you could feel something shift in the air between you. At a loss for words you just nodded again and did as Johnny asked when he turned around to gather his stuff.

“Take a couple of deep breaths for me, darling,” he instructed you when he rolled over on his little stool, his glasses sitting low on his nose and his hands already gloved. “It’s going on your ribs,” he told you so you wouldn’t flinch when he quickly dragged a razor over the area before disinfecting it. “I’ll draw a quick sketch first. I don’t want to mess it up when it’s going on your beautiful skin.” You felt the tip of his pen meet your skin in a gentle stroke, tickling your skin so you had to giggle. “Don’t make me mess this up, baby,” Johnny scolded, playfully slapping your back. “It tickles,” you pouted. “I’m trying to be gentle with you,” he said and you could hear the smile in his voice. While he was sketching, you closed your eyes, trying to figure out what he was drawing. But all you could figure out was that it was something rather small which calmed your nerves a bit.

“All done,” the tattoo artist announced after a while and quickly pulled his little side table with his tattoo gun and ink closer. When the low buzzing noise filled the air, you pressed your eyes shut even tighter, balling your hands into fists. Technically you knew it wouldn’t hurt badly, Johnny had shown you before. But you were still getting stabbed a bunch of times and fuck, you were really doing this. Letting this man put something on your body that was going to be there forever and you didn’t even know what it was going to be. “Relax, darling. I’ll be as gentle as I can be,” he promised, running a hand up and down your back. “It’s going to be on me forever,” you said. “It is. Your own personal piece of art on your body. Just for you to have.” That was a beautiful way to see it, you thought. It’s not just some pigment stabbed into your skin but art. Something unique no one else had. And Johnny would be painting it on just you for you and you alone. “Okay, let’s do this,” you breathed. “That’s my good girl,” Johnny praised and the words made your stomach twist with a feeling you didn’t want to further explore.

The pain was bearable. It was weird at first and the ribs sure hurt more than it had on your arm and the bones somehow seemed to amplify the buzzing, making it travel through your body. You had to grit your teeth when Johnny went over what seemed to be the middle part of the tattoo, where he grazed the skin in quick successions. “That hurts.” “I know, baby. But you’re almost done. You’re doing so well for me,” he soothed and gave you a small break to breathe before he went back in.

“All done, darling,” Johnny announced a little later, turning off his machine and rubbing the tattoo down with a wet paper towel. “Can I see it now?” You asked. “In a bit, keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softly and took your hands in his now ungloved ones to first guide you into a sitting position and then off the bench and over to what you assumed to be the mirror. He turned you so your side was facing the glass and put one of his big hands on your waist. It felt hot on your exposed skin and made goosebumps break out on your skin. “Open your eyes, doll.” You did and looked directly into his dark chocolate brown eyes behind his glasses. “I’m too scared to look now, is that silly?” You asked, losing yourself in his eyes and leaning towards his body that just seemed to radiate heat. “It’s beautiful, just like you,” he assured you, squeezing your waist reassuringly. After taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze away from him and turned to look at yourself in the mirror where a delicate, black chrysanthemum was awaiting you on the skin over your ribs. It indeed looked beautiful, absolutely stunning. It was small but looked so delicate and realistic and fit well with the curves of your body. “It’s stunning,” you whispered.

“Thank you, Johnny.” “No need to thank me, darling,” he chuckled and when your eyes met again, his were dark and almost hungry. “But I think I should reward you for being so good while I tattooed you.” Before you could ask what kind of reward he was talking about, he had already connected your lips in a passionate kiss and pulled your body flush against his. You couldn’t help but sigh now that you finally knew what the metal of his lip piercing felt like against your lips. Johnny was a good kisser and you were boneless in his strong grip not long after he had slipped his tongue past your lips after you had moaned into the kiss when he had started to push you backwards to the bench again, hoisting you back up. “Let me make up for the pain I’ve caused you,” he breathed against your swollen lips when you broke apart to breathe. “Just keep kissing me like that,” you demanded, burying your hands in his soft black locks to kiss him again. He chuckled and let you dominate the kiss for a while, toying with the black ring in his lip and exploring his mouth. Meanwhile Johnny’s hands started to wander from their place on your waist down to grope at your ass, pulling you forward against him, so you could feel his growing erection between your legs which made a spark of arousal shoot through you.

“Let me make you feel good, baby,” he breathed heavily while kissing down your neck, gently taking the skin between his teeth. “Please Johnny,” you begged, feeling the arousal simmer low in your stomach. Grinning he pulled back and raked his dark eyes over your figure before making quick work of your belt and sliding your jeans along with your panties from your legs, only shortly struggling with your shoes. “It’s not Johnny now, baby,” he rasped when he kneeled down in front of you, pulling you towards him roughly, so your glistening core was exposed to him. “It’s Daddy,” he added before licking a broad stripe through your folds and flicking his tongue at your clit. You could just mewl and throw your head back in pleasure. You didn’t know that this would be such a turn on for you. “Say it, baby,” Johnny demanded, lazily dragging his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered and you could feel his low groan vibrating against your core. He wasted no time to attach his plush lips to your clit, gently sucking and grazing his teeth over the little nub, making you mewl and shiver in pleasure. He definitely knew what he was doing, altering between stimulating your clit to the point where it almost became too much before he focused on dragging his tongue through your folds, gently prodding against your entrance before it gave away. When Johnny moaned you could feel it travel straight through you, making your head swim with pleasure. Looking down to the man kneeling in front of you, you were met with his dark eyes, staring straight up into yours. Moaning, you threaded your fingers into his soft hair and pressed his face closer to your core, not even taking the chance that he could move back. “Feels so good, Daddy,” you moaned when he spread your labia with his fingers so his tongue could dive deeper into you, stimulating your velvety walls. When he hummed it send sweet vibrations through your core and you could feel your orgasm approach almost embarrassingly fast. “Mmmh, so close Daddy.” “You wanna cum, baby?” He rasped, his hot breath fanning over your clit that he was lazily rubbing with two fingers. You bit your lip and met his dark eyes, nodding furiously. “Then beg for it, doll. I could stay here for hours,” Johnny spoke before he turned his head to mouth at your thigh, gently biting and sucking at the sensitive skin until it bruised under his ministrations. “I would just keep you right on the edge for hours until you’re a shaking mess for me, begging for release.” His lips split into a wicked grin when he saw how his dirty words affected you and he slowed his fingers on your clit until it was just enough to keep you stimulated but not enough to make the knot in your stomach snap. “Please Daddy,” you whimpered. “Please what baby?” He rested his head on your thigh, looking up at you from innocent eyes as if he wasn’t driving you insane with just his fingers. “What is it beautiful?” He repeated the question, replacing his fingers with his tongue. “You wanna cum?” “Yes please,” you whined, grinding your hips against his tongue to get more friction. “Well if you ask so nicely…” Johnny immediately slipped two fingers inside you with almost no resistance from how ridiculously wet you were and began pumping them in and out of your core fast, crooking them to search for your sweet spot. “Come on baby,” he growled, locking eyes with you again when he closed his lips around your clit. Almost screaming his name, you came hard when his fingers finally found your sweet spot, rubbing at it mercilessly to help you ride out your orgasm. Your thighs were shaking and you fell back onto the bench, the leather sticking to your back where you just laid for a while, your head spinning, breathing heavily.

“You look gorgeous like that,” Johnny complimented you, when he got back up from the floor, raking his clean hand through the mess that was his hair before he shamelessly took his fingers that were covered in your essence into his mouth, sucking them clean. Through half lidded eyes you could see the way he was still straining against the fabric of his jeans and the sight made your mouth water. “You’re still hard,” you said breathless. “I am,” he said matter of factly. You wordlessly let your thighs fall open for him, exposing your core to him. “Oh baby,” Johnny cursed, pressing the heel of his palm against his bulge, “As much as I want to fuck you right now, you still have a fresh tattoo, doll.” “Please, Johnny, I want it,” you begged. “Shh, baby,” he soothed you rubbing a hand over your thigh, “Let me dress that tattoo and then I’ll take you upstairs to fuck you on an actual bed like you deserve.” You nodded, amazed by his amount of self-control.

Johnny worked quickly and efficiently: Cleaning your tattoo one last time before putting some ointment on it to keep it moisturized. At last he gently taped down a small sheet of plastic foil to keep it safe. “All done, beautiful,” he spoke before pecking your lips, “You still want to come upstairs with me?” “Yes Daddy,” you answered and you swore you could see his eyes darken just from the word alone. “Hold on tightly,” he ordered before scooping you up into his arms, holding you up by your thighs. Squealing you quickly wrapped your arms and legs around him, holding on tightly. “I’ll get your clothes before we open up tomorrow,” he mumbled when he carried you through the back door of the shop that lead to a dusty staircase. You pressed your body closer to his, nuzzling your face into his neck where the smell of his cologne was the strongest, to have some of his warmth seep into your skin when you started to shiver from the cold air. Lazily you let your lips travel over his skin, sucking a mark next to a splash of ink.

Johnny quickly grabbed the keys to his apartment’s door from atop of the doorframe (not really safe) and unlocked his door while holding you up with just one of his arms, the display of strength making your head spin. With quick steps he crossed the way to his bed and gently laid you down on the soft sheets, immediately crawling on top of you, crowding you against the mattress. “I knew you would look good in my bed,” he rasped, kissing your neck while his hands made quick work of the bra that you were still wearing for some reason. “You’re gorgeous, doll,” he breathed after he had sat up on his knees, looking down at you with dark eyes, his big hands roaming your body. Feeling shy under all the attention and compliments he was giving you, you tried to hide your face behind your fingers but he wasn’t having any of it, quickly grabbing your wrists in one hand to pin them above your head. “Don’t hide from me baby. Daddy wants to see how much you’re enjoying yourself.” You could just nod, trying to force down the whimper that almost spilled past your lips, he hadn’t even done much yet and you were already feeling arousal pulse through your veins. “I couldn’t hear your answer,” Johnny teased, gently grabbing one of your boobs to massage the soft flesh. “Yes, Daddy.” “That’s my good girl,” he grinned, releasing your wrists to slip his T-Shirt over his head, revealing his strong chest where the eagle majestically spread its wings and the hard lines of his abs. “Like what you see?” He asked smugly, climbing off the bed to unbuckle his belt and slip his jeans off his narrow hips, revealing strong, muscled thighs. One of them was covered with the face of a growling panther while the other was decorated with a colorful koifish tattoo that disappeared beneath the fabric of his dark boxers that were doing very little to hide a prominent bulge. “Let me,” you breathed and crawled over to hook your thumbs into the waistband. But before you pulled them down, you pressed a couple of kisses to the cherry blossom branch tattoo that seemed to stretch from his back over his hipbone and further down, mingling with the koi tattoo further down. With every centimeter of skin you exposed, more ink from the blossoms became visible and you kissed every single one of the delicate flowers. When his length finally sprang free, you had to swallow dryly: His cock was huge and hung heavy between his legs. Licking your lips you looked up to him, to find him grinning down at you. “Go to town, baby.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice, you were itching to feel his heavy weight on your tongue. You pressed a sweet kiss to his tip before placing a hand at the base only to find him surprisingly soft as you experimentally pumped your hand once. “It takes a while for it to get fully hard,” he groaned when you moved your hand up and down his shaft a couple of times, feeling it pulse beneath your fingers. Damn if he wasn’t even fully hard, how big would he be if he was? Holding him at the base, you licked a broad stripe up the whole length before you swiped your tongue around the pink head, pulling another groan from Johnny’s lips. Taking a deep breath, you finally took him in your mouth and hollowed your cheeks, tasting his skin. The weight on your tongue felt just right and you couldn’t help but moan as you slowly started to take more and more of him until you felt him hit the back of your throat. Shit, you were barely able to fit half of his length in your mouth like this. “You’re so big,” you moaned when you pulled off of him with a wet pop, spreading your saliva down the shaft with both of your hands. Johnny just hummed and grabbed a handful of your hair to shove your mouth back onto his dick. He cursed when the velvety heat surrounded him again and gently began to thrust in and out your mouth. “Fuck you look so good with my cock in your mouth,” he breathed heavily. You could only moan where your lips were stretched around his length and hollow your cheeks when he pulled out, the grip he had on your hair keeping you in place while he snapped his hips. “Shit baby,” Johnny cursed when he pulled out, panting while he rested the head of his cock on your outstretched tongue. “I could cum like this.” You whined pathetically, looking up at him with pleading eyes. He chuckled and gently slapped his cock against your lips, smearing them with precum. “But you don’t want that, don’t you, baby? You want my cock inside you? Stretching you out?” “Yes Daddy, please. I need it so bad,” you blabbered, not even knowing where those words were coming from but you seemed to have said the right thing with how Johnny’s dick twitched in his hand.

“Then get on your hands and knees for me, baby. Ass up.” It was almost comically how fast you complied, baring yourself to him. “Such a good girl,” he praised, grabbing your asscheeks to knead and pull them apart. “Beautiful.” “Please Daddy,” you begged him, arching your back further. “Patience baby,” he chuckled. A frustrated groan got stuck in your throat and turned into a drawn out whine when he pushed two of his fingers inside you, pumping them quickly and curling them to find your sweet spot again. Soon two fingers became three and he had reduced you to a moaning mess with how he abused your sweet spot once he had found it again. “You think you’re ready for my cock, baby?” “Yes. Oh god, yes please,” you begged while shamelessly grinding back on his fingers that he had stilled inside of you. “Spread your cheeks for me,” he ordered while quickly grabbing a condom from his bedside table and rolling it onto his cock. Balancing your weight on your knees and shoulders, you reached around yourself to pull your asscheeks apart so Johnny could see your core clenching around nothing. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he rasped, running his palm along the curve of your body while lazily thrusting his cock through your folds, making it glisten with your essence. Finally you could feel him nudging at your entrance with the thick head of his cock. “You want it, baby?” “Yes please Daddy,” you gasped, trying hard to be good and not grind back against him. “You’re such a good girl for me,” he chuckled, “And good girls get what they want if they ask so politely.” With that he finally sank into you in one agonizingly slow thrust until you could feel his hip bones press against your skin. You had to screw your eyes shut and bite your lip to suppress a whimper. You had never felt so full before.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight,” Johnny groaned, grabbing you by the dip of your waist with his big hands, grinding you on his cock. “I’m so full, Daddy,” you gasped when he slowly pulled out until only the head of his cock was inside you before he languidly thrust back in. “Yeah? You like that? Being stuffed full of my cock?” You could only moan and nod where your head was pressed into the sheets. His cock was so big that it seemed to press against every good spot that was inside you, setting your nerve endings on fire, the pain from being stretched like that only adding to your pleasure. “You‘re sucking me right back in baby,” he cursed and gripped your waist harder, pulling you back on his cock as he picked up the pace, low groans falling from his lips. Your moans got progressively louder and louder the faster Johnny snapped his hips. “Hands behind your back, baby,” he ordered panting and immediately grabbed both your wrists in his hands to use them as leverage so he could fuck into you faster, the change of angle and pace making you moan his name. Your head was swimming with pleasure and you could only moan and mewl beneath him, imagining how he would bite his lip while watching his dick disappear inside you over and over again, stretching out the delicate skin of your sex. “God baby, your ass looks amazing,” Johnny groaned, praise after praise falling from his lips that reduced you to a moaning mess.

With one particularly hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt inside you and draped his body over yours, his hot breath fanning over your face when he spoke, a deep rumble in his chest while grinding his dick right against your sweet spot that had you seeing colors behind your closed eyes. “Wanna see you bounce on my dick, doll. Can you do that for me?” Taking a deep breath, you nodded. Your ability to form coherent sentences had left you as soon as he had begun to fuck you in earnest. “You’re such a good girl,” he purred and gently pulled out, making you whimper from the loss. You felt the bed dip next to you and when you opened your eyes, you were met with Johnny’s pleased smirk as he leaned against the headboard of the bed, his cock resting against his hip, too heavy to properly stand up and you couldn’t stop another whimper. “Come on baby, I know you want it,” he grinned, crooking a finger in a ‘come closer’ motion. Dragging your limbs from beneath you with great effort, you climbed onto his lap, immediately claiming his lips in a messy kiss. You buried your hands in his stupidly perfect hair to mess it up and tug at the inky strands, causing Johnny to moan into the kiss. “Hmm, my baby is feisty,” he chuckled when he broke the kiss, the pupils of his dark eyes blown so wide that they seemed almost black. “But you promised me to ride my dick,” he reminded you. “And I’m gonna,” you slurred, reaching between your bodies to grab his cock, giving it a couple of strokes. “But turn around for me baby. Wanna see how much my fat cock is going to stretch you out,” he rasped, playfully biting your lips. “But I want to see you too,” you complained. “Oh you can,” he grinned and pointed over your shoulder. You reluctantly turned around before you saw what he meant. Right across from the bed was a big mirror and you gasped because of how fucked out you already looked. A couple of tears had rolled down your cheeks and messed up your makeup and your lipstick was smeared around your lips.

You carefully grabbed Johnny’s cock again and held it steady so you could sink down on him, watching yourself in the mirror until you sat snug on his lap and had to close your eyes because the feeling was so overwhelming. He felt even bigger like that. “You okay, baby?” He asked, grabbing your hips tightly to help you swivel them on his cock, making it press into your walls just how you liked it. “How does your cock feel even bigger like this?” You gasped as you leaned forward and slowly started to ride him at first to get used to his size and figure out the best angle for you. Your legs shook with the effort to keep your rhythm but the look Johnny had on his face, his eyes glued to where you two were connected, made it worth it. Suddenly a wicked grin spread on his lips and he snapped his hips up when you lowered yourself again, tearing loud moans from both of you. “Fuck, do that again,” you demanded when you raised your hips again. “What’s the magic word?” Johnny teased, holding you up so you wouldn’t drop down again. “Please, Daddy.” Groaning he started to snap his hips up every time you ground down on him, making your skin slap together with an obscene noise.

God you wanted to die on his dick. “Do you now?” Johnny laughed. Shit did you say that out loud? “Want to feel how deep it goes inside you?” He rasped, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You went lax in his hold and mewled helplessly. Who knew that a little display of strength and a big dick were such turn ons for you that your brain was reduced to mush. Grinning he carefully pulled you up and against his chest and draped your legs over his after he had planted his feet firmly onto the mattress. “Watch, baby,” he ordered as he lifted you off of him until only the tip was barely inside you anymore before letting you drop down again. You mewled and thrashed in his hold, the feeling just on the edge of too much. Feeling him deep inside you was one thing but actually seeing it was a whole other thing and it messed with your head. Curiously you pressed your hand down on your lower stomach when Johnny had started to piston his hips up into you instead of dropping you down onto his cock every time and you swore you could feel him move inside you. A drawn out curse left your lips and you threw your head back onto his shoulder.

With the way he was snapping his hips up you could feel your orgasm approach at lightning speed and you were so far gone that you shamelessly reached between your legs to stimulate your clit. “Fuck baby, you’re so hot like this,” Johnny groaned, grinding his dick inside you as you quickly rubbed your clit, toeing right on the edge. “Please Daddy,” you cried out, not sure what you were even begging for. “You gonna cum on my cock?” He rasped, snapping his hips harshly, “Wrapped around my big cock stretching you out like this?” You nodded your head furiously, your eyes screwed shut. You were so close that you could already feel your toes curling. “Show me baby. Show Daddy how good his cock makes you feel.” That’s what pushed you over the edge, the way he was panting in your ear, his voice strained from how he was drilling into you. The coil in your stomach snapped and you almost screamed his name, your body curling inwards and thighs shivering as your orgasm washed over you, making a bunch of colors explode behind your lids. In the back of your mind you registered Johnny’s curses and how he was grinding his cock inside you to help you ride out your orgasm. “Such a good girl,” he praised when your body went lax on top of him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. You briefly wondered if you had ever cum this hard and you couldn’t think of any other time. “Thank you Daddy,” you panted, turning your face to press a messy kiss to his plush lips that were bitten raw. He chuckled lowly when you whimpered when his still hard cock shifted when you tried to turn around.

“Will you let me fuck you for a little longer, baby?” He asked, running a hand through your sweaty hair. Instead of answering him, you lifted yourself off his dick to turn around on his lap, capturing his lips again. “Want you to ruin me,” you whispered between kisses, “Want you to ruin me for any other men. Want to only remember how you feel inside of me.” Johnny growled deep in his chest before he pushed you down onto the bed, hungrily licking into your mouth. “You’re the one who is ruining me,” he panted, rising to his knees. He quickly grabbed your legs and threw them over his shoulders before he sank into you again with a low groan. This time he didn’t waste any time with building up the pace and immediately snapped his hips harshly, chasing his own orgasm. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he panted, folding your thighs to your chest so he could push into you even deeper, making you see stars with how he was nailing your sweet spot with the new angle. And even though you had just cum, you felt another orgasm build inside your stomach. A row of curses left Johnny’s lips when he could watch his dick slide in and out of you again and he gripped your thighs so hard you were sure you’d have bruises there tomorrow. But that was something you’d worry about later, right now your world was only made up of the handsome man with his huge cock that was currently rearranging your guts with how vigorously he was snapping his hips, making your skin slap together with lewd sounds.

“I’m gonna cum baby,” Johnny grunted, his hips losing their rhythm. “On me,” you managed to choke out, still lost in your own pleasure. Another groan left his bitten lips before he quickly pulled out and ripped the condom off, jerking his cock with quick strokes, his eyes fixed to yours. All it took was a couple of jerks before he threw his head back and you could see his abdominal muscles contract before the first burst of white hot cum spurted from his dick and covered your chest and stomach. With parted lips he stroked himself through his orgasm, milking rope after rope from his cock until he hissed with overstimulation. “Fuck,” he cursed before giggling when he saw the mess he had made of you, his cum dripping from your boobs and running down your stomach. He cursed again before claiming your lips. “You want to cum one last time, baby?” “Please Daddy,” you whined, spreading your legs further for him. “My good girl,” he sighed, sinking two fingers into your heat, quickly crooking them to stimulate your sweet spot while his thumb was putting sweet pressure on your clit, making you thrash beneath him. “You look so good covered in my cum,” he rasped before he kissed you harshly to swallow your moans and cries of pleasure. You desperately held on to his shoulders, breaking the kiss when your head was spinning from the lack of oxygen. While speeding up his fingers, Johnny began sucking bruises low on your neck and over the soft skin of your cleavage. “Shit, I’m gonna-“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence because right that moment he had sucked one of your nipples into his mouth which was just enough to send you over the edge for a third time that night, your lips parted in a silent scream of his name and your thighs shaking and closing around the handsome man kneeling between them. “That’s my good girl,” he praised breathily and gently rocked his fingers to help you ride out your orgasm before he pulled them out, instead winding his strong arms around your body, holding you to his inked chest.

For a while he just held you close, not caring that his cum was now also stuck to his chest. “Fuck that was a lot,” you chuckled, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his calming scent. “Not what you thought would happen when you get a free tattoo?” Johnny softly spoke, carding his hand through your messy hair. “Not at all.” Another question was burning inside your head but you were too scared to ask it. You didn’t want to push him and ruin the mood. “I should clean you up and see if that tattoo is still okay. Then we can cuddle, alright?” The tattoo artist said before he detangled your bodies from one another to get up from the bed. He looked around on the floor for a cloth and you could finally see where the cherry blossoms on his hip were coming from. A big samurai was stretched over half his back, surrounded by the pinkish blossoms. It seemed like it wasn’t a complete piece yet, the samurai staring at the still untouched skin of Johnny’s left shoulderblade. “Your back tattoo is really pretty,” you mumbled to fill the silence while Johnny was wiping his chest clean before he gently did the same to you, taking extra caution when looking at your still fresh tattoo. “Thank you,” he smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the metal of his piercing feeling warm on your skin, “We should change that foil real quick.” You just nodded and let him do his work, exhaustion settling into your bones.

“Do you do this with all your clients?” Shit. You hadn’t meant to ask that, the question had just slipped your lips and you could feel Johnny freeze where he was dressing your tattoo again before he secured the last piece of tape. He sighed and slipped beneath the covers, pulling you against his chest, so you could listen to his heartbeat. “Not all of them,” he answered eventually, “I haven’t slept with a client in a while. It happens sometimes but usually I don’t think much about it.” “And now you do?” He just hummed nonchalantly, playing with your hair. “They usually don’t come back after I fuck them.” He paused, holding his breath. “Will you come back?” Your heart started to race and you could feel a bright smile spreading over your lips. “For more free tattoos and piercings?” “Oh, yeah, I guess,” he sounded so deflated, the confident tattoo artist suddenly gone. “You idiot,” you giggled, pillowing your head on his sternum so he could see the smile on your lips, “I like you Johnny. I’ll come back if you want me to.” Now he was also smiling, his features softening. “Don’t make jokes like that, my heart is fragile,” he joked, wrapping you up in his strong arms.

“Which one was your first one?” You asked him when the silence between you stretched while you traced the scales of the dragon that wound around his arm. “My first tattoo?” Johnny shifted around for a while before he showed you his other arm that had all kinds of different designs on it, some in bright colors, some strictly black. “That little guy over here,” he said with a smile on his lips and pointed to a little sunflower at the bend of his elbow, “To remind me to always look at the sun, at the bright side of life.” “It’s cute,” you breathed, touching the yellow petals. “And then it went downhill from there,” he chuckled, “It’s addicting.” “Let’s hope I can stay abstinent.” “What a shame, I’d love to cover you in my art,” Johnny confessed, tilting your face up so he could claim your lips in a kiss. “Maybe one or two more,” you breathed in between kisses, making him chuckle against your lips.

#kafenetwork #johnny #seo youngho #johnny suh #nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #nct smut #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fic #johnny fic #johnny fanfic

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jbuchanan-barnes · 3 years

Text

as long as we have each other

Summary: While on a mission, something unexpected happens to Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: 2,359

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mention of illegal weapons dealing, blood. This is the first time I'm posting something that I've written, and I'm very nervous. I feel like that should be a warning 🙈

A/N: Hi! This is for @wkemeup 's 9k writing challenge - Character A cleans Character B's wounds after a rough mission. [A]'s fingers linger over scarred muscle as they finish wrapping the bandage.

Congrats on 9k Kas!! Also, thank you to @thefanbasewhore for proof reading!!

divider credits to @bwbatta

After coming back from a two week long solo mission in Warsaw, you were just about ready to take a nice long bath and sleep for a week. As you walked off the quinjet, it was no surprise to see a certain metal armed super soldier waiting for you with his arms crossed.

As you close the space between you, his eyes rake over you from top to bottom to check for injuries. “I was starting to think your mission would never end,” Bucky says, smirking down at you. “And by the looks of it, I think you thought the same thing.” “Shut up,” you respond with a halfhearted glare. His smirk melts into a gentle smile as he pulls you into his arms. “I missed you,” Bucky replies as he buries his face into your neck. “Two weeks is too long to go without seeing you.” You hum in agreement as your hands travel to his hair. After a few moments of standing tangled together, you break the silence. “As much as I’d love to hug you forever, I’m dying to get out of this suit.” Bucky pulls out of your embrace, kisses you on the head, and gently takes your hand. You let him lead you through the compound towards your room, but before you’re able to make it past the kitchen, you’re interrupted. “Oh! Y/N, Barnes!” Tony exclaims, “Just the people I needed to talk to.” You groan just as Bucky responds. “Can it wait, Stark? Y/N just got back from Poland.” “Unfortunately,” Tony replies, “I need you both to Brazil tomorrow.” “There’s a guy who has been harboring stolen SHIELD tech since the incident at the triskelion, and he finally popped back up on our radar,” he elaborates. “You can’t send someone else?” You inquire, your lips turning down into a frown. “I’m afraid not,” Tony sounds apologetic as he responds. “I need all hands on deck for this mission. I’m even pulling Steve out of retirement.” Tony winks at you. “Luckily for you,” he continues, “This mission requires us to stay at one of the fanciest hotels in Río.” Tony glances at his watch before adding “I need you two in the briefing room by eight am tomorrow so we can go over the details before we depart. Until then, go rest Y/N.” You take a deep breath and nod as Bucky agrees.

As you finally enter your shared room, Bucky jokingly says “We should have snuck in through the back way.” “It’s fine,” you tell him dejectedly. “Tony would have found another way to contact us. It is what it is.” Your long bath would have to wait.

As you rush to take a quick shower, Bucky returns to the kitchen to make you something to eat. When he comes back, you scarf down the leftovers as Bucky takes his turn in the bathroom. By the time you’re finished, Bucky is all ready for bed. While you brush your teeth, he takes the opportunity to climb into bed and check his phone. When you walk out of the bathroom, you can’t help but take a minute to admire your boyfriend. Although he looks very attractive sitting in bed shirtless, your heart flutters at the peaceful look on his face. Bucky has been through so much, but with you, he’s totally at ease.

You’re broken out of your reverie by Bucky’s soft voice. “Hey,” he says with a gentle smile. “C’mere, doll.” You crawl into bed and let Bucky pull you into his arms. As you lay your head on his chest, Bucky idly traces random patterns onto your back. Just as you’re starting to drift off, his voice pulls you back. “How are you feeling about the mission tomorrow?” “Honestly,” you drowsily respond. “If Tony is okay with giving us all the details the day of, it should be pretty easy.” Bucky hums in agreement. “Why?” you continue. “You’re not worried about it, are you?” “Oh, no!” Bucky denies. “I just wanted to make sure you aren’t worried about it since you aren’t getting a break.” “I’ll be fine,” you say, pretending to be annoyed. “If my boyfriend will be quiet so I can sleep.” Bucky laughs and kisses your forehead. “Okay, okay!” he yields to your teasing. “Good night, sweetheart.” As you start to fall asleep, you sleepily respond. “Good night Buckaroo. I love you.” Just before you drift into unconsciousness, you hear Bucky’s quiet voice. “I love you too, doll.”

The next morning, when you arrive in the briefing room, Tony is too chipper for eight in the morning. While you would rather be in bed, he seems as if he’s already had two cups of coffee (at least). Bucky appears to be neither tired, nor overly energetic, while everyone else falls somewhere in between.

“Antonio Silva is the guy we’re looking for,” Tony begins by showing everyone a picture of the man you need to find. “He is originally from Campinas, Brazil.” Tony takes a moment to pull up a picture of the map. “Based on our intell, he is planning on making a sale tonight in São Paulo.” “You said he has stolen tech?” you inquire. Steve takes the opportunity to speak up. “He actually worked for SHIELD before it fell. Well, hydra technically.” He turns to Natasha. “Did you see his name anywhere in the files you released?” Nat shakes her head. “No. I don’t think he was important enough to have in the files.” “I guess that explains why he turned on them and stole tech,” Sam laughs. “Either way,” Tony directs everyone’s attention back to the mission briefing. “He’s planning on selling to black market weapons dealers at the ten year anniversary gala of the hotel, and we need to stop the sale, arrest Silva, and capture the weapons dealers.” Tony pulls up a map of the hotel. “Steve will be disguised as a bartender, and Sam and I will be flying above the hotel, should anything go south. Y/N and Barnes, you two will be disguised as a mob boss and his wife looking to purchase some weapons. As soon as you make contact, make the arrest. Natasha, I want you floating around the room taking inventory of the weapons dealers in the room. A team of agents will be joining us to assist with taking people into custody should they not be compliant. Since Silva has the weapons in storage somewhere, as long as we have him and the dealers in custody, taking back the weapons should be easy. We just need the guy who knows where they are. Does anyone have any questions?” A series of no’s are heard as everyone responds. “Then everyone go pack, and be ready for the quinjet to take off in an hour.”

The flight is relatively quiet, interrupted only by Sam giving out some last minute instructions. However, as soon as the jet lands, everyone is thrown into go mode.

By the time you make it to the hall where the celebration is being held, the party is in full swing. You watch Natasha silently slip into the room in total spy mode. She glances over at you and nods slightly for you and Bucky to make your entrance. You make your way to the bar for the next few minutes as you watch Nat float around the room.

After about ten minutes, she walks up to the bar and asks Steve for a drink, discreetly informing you that all of the weapons dealers are here. Steve signals for all of the agents to fall into place as you and Bucky turn to approach Silva. Before you make it to where Silva is, he takes one look at Bucky and bolts. That’s when all hell breaks loose. Agents start drawing their guns left and right, while the dealers begin pulling out their weapons to fight back. As the gunfire starts, Tony and Sam join the fight, shield flying, while Bucky takes off after Silva. As soon as you know that they’ll be fine without you, you take off after Bucky. Once Bucky and Silva are in your line of sight, you can tell that Bucky is struggling. It’s apparent that Silva has found some way to disable Bucky’s vibranium arm. As Bucky does his best to fight one handed, Silva punches him in the nose before pulling out two knives. Before you can reach them, you watch in horror as Silva thrusts a knife into Bucky’s thigh, while slicing at his throat with the other knife. Bucky barely dodges the second blade, but not before the tip catches his collar bone.

As soon as you get to them, you tackle Silva to give Bucky the chance to reset his arm. You’re able to block a few of Silva’s attempts to stab you, and kick the knives out of his hands before Bucky joins the fight again.

When it’s apparent that you and Bucky have the upper hand again, Silva pauses. “I really didn’t want to do this to you Barnes, but you left me no choice.” Before you have time to wonder what Silva is talking about, he continues.

“Sputnik.”

Before the word is even out of his mouth, Bucky goes rigid and keels over. As he collapses, your whole world collapses with him. Shock, confusion, and panic roll through you as Steve arrives just in time to handle Silva. You rush to Bucky’s side, and as you find his steady pulse, your anxious heart settles just a little. There is chaos all around you, but you don’t have time to care as you focus on Bucky. As soon as Silva and the dealers are in custody, Sam and Steve help carry Bucky back to your hotel room. After they leave, you take the opportunity to pull out your first aid supplies. Just as you’re finishing collectiving everything you need, Bucky begins to regain consciousness.

“What happened?” His confusion is evident, even in his groggy state. “I’m not entirely sure,” you tell him, hesitantly. “Silva said a word and it was like it just flipped your off switch.” Bucky stays silent as you carefully help him sit up. “I need to clean your knife wounds,” you say gently. “Which means we need to get you out of your tactical gear.” Bucky helps you undress him to the best of his current ability, but he seemingly can’t let the situation pass without playfully making light of what’s happening. “You know, this would be a whole lot more romantic if you lit a few candles.” You snort in response and reply, “It would be a whole lot more romantic if you weren’t bleeding on the sheets.”

Once Bucky is stripped to just his boxers, you help him lean back against the headboard. Bucky silently watches as you pull out the butterfly bandages and antiseptic wipes. You’ve done this so many times that you don’t even bother to tell Bucky that it might sting. He knows the drill, but that doesn’t stop you from doing your best to be gentle. During his seventy years of being tortured and brainwashed, too many people have been rough with him and have treated him harshly. You know he’s not fragile, but you can’t help but pretend that each gentle touch will replace each bad memory of painful touches. Bucky doesn’t flinch as you wipe the cut on his thigh with the wipe. He simply watches as you move to apply the butterfly bandages in the absence of stitches. You wrap the cohesive bandage over the wound and around Bucky’s thigh, but you both know it really doesn’t matter. His wounds will stitch themselves together within a day or two anyway. As you move up to clean the cut just above his left collarbone, your eyes trace the marred scars where metal meets flesh. After you clean and bandage the cut, you let your fingers lightly trail over the scars. You follow the trail of your fingers with soft kisses before looking up to meet Bucky’s eyes. The way he’s looking at you could only be described as adoration, and he gently grabs the back of your neck to bring you in for a kiss. The kiss is soft, but no less toe curling. Like Bucky is using the kiss to convey the way he feels, without knowing how to put those feelings into words. When you break apart, you’re reminded that you need to tend to the small cuts and bruises on his face. You wipe the blood off and apply the antiseptic onto some of the smaller cuts before moving on to the bridge of Bucky’s nose. After cleaning the wound, you smile slightly as you run your finger down his nose. The action makes Bucky scrunch his nose slightly, and you laugh lightly at his reaction. The silence is comfortable and you’re both at ease with each other enough to not always require words.

You help Bucky settle into the bed before cleaning up the first aid supplies and moving to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

As you finish up in the bathroom and climb into bed, Bucky breaks the lingering silence. “I’m not sure what happened earlier.” You can hear the concern in his voice. “I thought Shuri removed all the trigger words, but apparently there was a fail safe buried deep in my head.” You ponder his words before responding. “We can start looking into it tomorrow. I can call Shuri and see if she has time for us to go see her.” “For right now,” you continue, “let’s just rest.” Bucky nods before tilting your chin up so your lips can meet. He kisses you softly and slowly before pulling away. “I love you.” He tells you with conviction, like he doesn’t know what might happen tomorrow. “I love you too, James Buchanan. Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together.” Bucky smiles slightly while pulling you closer to him. You may not have all the answers, but you have each other. As you both drift off to sleep, that’s enough.

#kas9kwc #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

❛ JUST FRIENDS? ❜

with Jackson ‘Jax’ Teller.

Request: Hiii Aurora! How are you? Could I request a jax teller x reader! Jax is in a really bad fight and the reader is jax best friend how is a doctor! Chiba call here and explane what happend and jax don’t want to tell her bc he knows she going to worry and the both are in love with each other and you choose the ending❤️ Hope you understand my bad English❤️ Thank you Aurora🥺❤️

BY ANON

Word count: about 650.

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“I told you to not call her”.

You can hear Jax grunting inside his dorm, arguing with Tig, while you follow Chibs through the hallway. Carrying your medical kit in a hand, you come into the room with your eyebrows frowning. The first thing your eyes gets focused on are the hand pressing a cloth against his abdomen, stained because of his blood. You don't have to be too smart to know that it's because of a stab. With a bullet he would be pale. And sweating. And he doesn't look that bad. Closing the door behind your back, you kneel close to the bed to get ready.

“I'm ok—”.

Before he finishes the word, you palm his temple. He complains like a kid would do.

“Next is gonna break your nose”.

Taking off the grip, you clean his skin from the dried blood before disinfecting the open wound. Then, you stitch him up hurriedly, but having so much care. This time, he doesn't say anything more than some grunts and whinings. And as soon as your work of art is finished, Chibs and Tigs abandon the dorm to leave you alone.

“Can you, please, stop trying to be killed? It's starting to be annoying”. You say, on your way to the bathroom to wash your hands.

“C'mon, darling. I know you enjoy taking care of your damsel in distress”.

His laughs between some whimpers, make you squint at him, drying your hands. Shaking your head, you rest your shoulder against the door frame, looking at him with an incredulous gesture on your face. Getting up with difficulty, pressing again his hand over the gauze, he grabs a clean black shirt to wear it.

“I told them I was okay”. He says then rolling his eyes, coming closer to you. “I'm sorry, I didn't want to worry you, baby girl”.

“Well, you did, idiot”. Snorting, you pucker your lips at odds.

Leaning over you, with his arms surrounding your back, he presses his lips on your forehead.

“You're the only one who can kill me”. He jokes, bowing down his head to glue his oceanic eyes on yours.

Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he guides you to his bed grabbing your hands with his and pulling himself away some inches. You don't know how he does it. How he has so much power on you. Urging you to sit on his lap, with his legs under yours, he buries his face in your neck. You can feel Jax closing his eyes, softly sighing, bristling your skin with some shivers. Then, his lips find your shoulder, covered by one of his shirts.

“Forgive me…” He whispers, roaming your back with his fingertips.

“What if I don't want to, hm?” You tease him, softly caressing his scalp. Traveling your fingers on his head, under the golden locks of hair.

Grunting against your shoulder, he moves his head to rest his chin on your chest.

“Please…” He almost bet, faking a pout at you. “I promise I'm gonna be a good boy”.

Loudly laughing, covering your mouth with a hand, you also close your eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, for sure, Jackie boy”.

“C'mon! I'm hurt. What kind of woman are you, that you don't feel any mercy for me, uh?”

“The kind of woman that doesn't believe your words?”

“I'm a liar, now?”

“Yeah… something like…”

“So, if I tell you that I wanna kiss you right now, wouldn't you believe me?” He mumbles, spreading your legs with his hands on your thighs, to make you bow down a little to his level.

You don't say anything, seeing the truth of his words within his eyes.

“Kissing your best friend is a reason to fall into hell”. You reply, after some second loss, on how blue his eyes are.

“Kissing your boyfriend is a reason to ascend to heaven”.

“I'm single”. You challenge him, tilting your head slightly.

“Until I kiss you. After that, you're gonna be mine forever, darling”.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #jackson jax teller x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller x reader #jax teller #jackson teller x reader #jackson teller

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)

feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.

notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer

w.c: 7.1k

01, 02

“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.”

“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?”

The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality.

“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.”

Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.”

Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons.

“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.”

“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?”

“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?”

“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!”

Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?”

“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.”

Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.”

You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort.

Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement.

“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!”

The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess.

“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind.

The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view.

Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain.

Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal.

This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments.

Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?”

“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”

“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth.

“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.”

You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot.

After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels.

It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out.

Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you.

“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering.

You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.

With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.”

“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare.

You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle.

After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.

Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!"

As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not.

Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours.

Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule.

Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check.

Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check.

Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.

Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—

A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight.

The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!”

You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!”

“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?”

“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.”

The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?”

“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.”

“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?”

“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.”

A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.”

“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?”

“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.”

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.”

“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.”

You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself.

“Well, your duty is doo-dy.” Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.”

A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop.

“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—”

“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter.

It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up.

You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics.

“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.

“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?”

He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.”

“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off.

“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.”

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?”

Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing.

You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.”

“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.”

You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?”

“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”

“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”

“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it.

“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!”

You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire?

“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.”

He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.”

“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns.

“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying.

Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project.

Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk.

“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.”

“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.”

You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.”

“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.

“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.”

“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?”

The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker.

“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”

“That’s classified.”

“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”

“Also classified.”

“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.”

You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible.

“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread.

“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.”

Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.”

Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.”

Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you.

The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.”

If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.

In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear.

“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully.

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.”

“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry.

Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie.

It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile.

And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight.

“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.

He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted.

“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.”

Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.

Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.”

You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.”

“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly.

You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.

“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?”

“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!”

Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.”

You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.”

The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone.

“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can you at least try to come, for me?”

You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself.

But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away.

“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.”

With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.”

“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you.

Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second.

“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.”

Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?”

You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!”

“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.”

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over.

Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.

You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish.

“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.”

She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?”

“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”

“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds.

“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.”

“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?”

“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.”

Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.”

Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.”

Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you.

“You came!”

Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging.

It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial.

Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase.

You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island.

Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with.

After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs.

“You’re here!”

You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat.

Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that.

Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide.

It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.”

“Right.”

“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.”

“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?”

He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean.

You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms.

Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on.

The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony.

“Snooping around, Princess?”

You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?”

“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel.

You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you.

“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs.

“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.”

His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.”

You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.”

“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.”

It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears.

“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.”

You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.”

“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.”

You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.

“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”

“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place.

The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.”

A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned.

“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.”

And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste.

Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.”

Wait, Christmas?

Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.”

“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”

“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.”

Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free.

extra.

It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow.

“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.”

“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room.

“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!”

Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”

“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #jjk #royal au #college au #bts x reader

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statierogers · 6 years

Text

The new recruit - Bucky Barnes (Part 1)

Title: The New Recruit (Part1)

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: It’s Bucky’s new job to train (Y/N). They just really, really don’t like each other.

Words: 3’532

Warnings: Language

Genre: I don’t know. not really angsty nor really fluffy. Maybe something in between.

A/N: I went very overboard. So I put it into two parts.

My Masterlist

Your name: submit What is this?

(Y/N) - your first name

(Y/L/N) - your last name

- Katie xx

Part 2

"Okay, so her name is (Y/N)," Steve spoke and pointed at the file he had thrown o the coffee table, "and she is enhanced."

The Avengers, except Thor and Peter, sat spread out on the living room couches. Some on chairs, some on the floor and some occupied the two sofas. They usually held briefings in the meeting room, but they all had a long week behind them, so no one was in the mood for uncomfortable office chairs.

"You know we have met her before. She started her training two weeks ago," Clint said and chewed one of the Gummy Worms Sam brought by.

Most of the team nodded at his statement. Well, not Tony; he was typing away on his phone.

"She was at your birthday party last week," Natasha added and tried grabbing some of the sweets, but Sam knocked her hands away.

Steve rolled his eyes at his teammates. Having a serious meeting was impossible. They were acting like children. It already took him 2 days to find a day where everyone was available. He liked to include and ask the whole team for his pledge because he knew half of them would pretend o be busy and not do him this favour. And he could do what he really didn't want to do and choose Bucky for this task. He had the hunch that it was going to end like this. The rest of the team tended to not engage in the extra activity. It's weird how lazy a budge of superheroes could be when it wasn't about Thanos Level threats. Well, except for Peter, but he had no say in this or anything for that matter. He was still in training, and Steve had his hands full with that one. Also because Tony had taken him under his wing and kept on updating his suit. The kid loved trying out the new technologies. Peter was also in school at the moment. Which was more important. Oh, and Thor. He was somewhere. Well, he probably making decisions as a king or beating up some otherworldly being.

"Okay... yea, anyways. Well, I started training (Y/N), and she isn't really good at hand to hand combat," he explained, and now Steve also felt the sudden urge to grab a Gummy Wurm.

Sam gave him a look. Apparently, Falcon didn't enjoy people taking his food. Steve took his hand back slowly and gave him an apologetic look. In the end, it was Sam's own fault to bring his precious snacks to a room full of those guys.

"And what exactly is your question?" Tony, who finally put his phone away, asked.

Steve sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He stole an unsure glance at Bucky, who just sat on a chair with crossed arms. His face was a gruff mask. He stared at the picture of the young woman. Her smile seemed to be mocking Bucky, and he didn't like it. He didn't like her. Well, no, he did, but there was something about her that he hated. She got under his skin. She was just so reckless, sassy and straight up made stupid decisions all the time. But then she could just stand there looking so beautiful, being so funny and say something brilliant. And he hated that. He hated that he liked her and that she seemed to be the only woman that didn't put up with his shit.

"I need some help. I just can't get through to her," Steve sighed.

You could see in his friend's faces that they were looking for a way out. Their brains working for an excuse.

"And why do you need all of us here for that? The only people who seem to be able to help are Romanov, Clint and Icicle over there, and maybe Sam," Tony added.

He nodded to the grumpy soldier, who just narrowed his eyes at him. Steve ignored them and looked with hopeful eyes to the two Ex SHIELD agents.

"Don't look at me. You know I can't get through to her either," Clint held up his hands in defence.

Steve sighed. Wanda furrowed her brows and looked between the guys, not wholly understanding their issue with (Y/N).

"Why exactly can't you get through to her?" Wanda wanted to know and made it quotes at the word through.

Steve blushed and looked at the floor. He hated admitting it, but she was just so adorable, he couldn't go hard on her. She just gave him one of those smiles, which she used to charm everyone's pants off, and he wouldn't be able to even near his fist her face. He knew she manipulated him so she could get out of training.

"She has those two guys wrapped around her pinky," Natasha smiled.

Clint narrowed his eyes at the redhead. Natasha knew all along. She had observed the men around her. All falling for the girl's coy act. Clint seemed like he was about to adopt her, and Steve looked at her like she was the most innocent woman ever. That girl was good at manipulating men. If she wanted to.

"Then you train her," Clint said and bumped her shoulder.

Natasha shook her head apologetically.

"I am knee-deep in Wanda's combat training," She shrugged her shoulders.

The women shared a look. Wanda didn't need to see into Natashas head to find out how she wanted this to play out. With Bucky training her. Vision tilted his head to the side. He seemed to have calculated something.

"It appears there is only one solution. It seems like most of us aren't really trained in this combat mode, except for James," Vision pitched in.

Bucky raised his head by the mention of his name. His posture suddenly turned stiff. He shook his head.

"No," he stated.

"Buck...," Steve started and reached his hand out in a comforting gesture.

He was interrupted by Bucky getting out of his chair. The usually so calm soldier seemed unsure now.

"No, not going to happen," he added and pointed at Steve accusingly.

"But, it would help her. You are the only person that can get through to her," Steve said and jumped up as well.

What did that even mean? She was just a girl. Steve made a soothing gesture in his direction. The rest of the team watched them, intrigued. But they knew, they knew Bucky was irritated by (Y/N). It was no secret. Not even to her. She just enjoyed disagreeing with him.

A humourless laugh left Bucky's lips, and he shook his head in disbelief. He didn't want to believe that Steve would suggest or even agree with this idea.

"Are we talking about the same woman? She disagrees with me constantly," he said and pointed between himself and Steve.

Steve now also shook his head. That wasn't completely true, and Bucky knew it.

"Are you sure? Every time she suggests something, you disagree with her," Sam added.

Sam was on her side, always. Also, because he and Bucky didn't agree on things either. They enjoyed bickering, but it was different. He knew Sam would have his back and that they were actual friends. With (Y/N), he was really not sure if she would just stab him if she got annoyed by him. Bucky opened his mouth and closed it again. There was no point in denying what Sam said, though.

"That is because her ideas are stupid," he argued then anyways.

Steve was tired of this. Obviously, he knew that it would end in this argument. But Bucky ran away from her whenever he could. He knew that deep down, Bucky liked her. He just wasn't used to being challenged by a woman. She knew what she wanted, and she was headstrong, and Bucky hadn't met a lot of ladies like that. And maybe knowing her and exchanging more than those arguments with her would help him.

"Do it for me, Bucky. She needs help. I can't do it. And she promised she would listen to you," Steve asked.

She never promised such a thing, but Steve hoped he would forget about that statement tomorrow. His resentment crumbled. Bucky needed some pushing.

"Fine, I'll do it," he barked.

Without another word, he stomped out of the room. The team's eyes followed his angry steps.

"Seriously, that was easier than I thought," Tony said with a short nod.

Steve wouldn't say this was easy. He would hear Bucky complain for at least a month.

"Steve, do you think this is a good idea? Letting those two train together?" Natasha asked him.

Steve crossed his arms defensively. No, he wasn't, not at all. He wasn't sure what the deal between those two was. They had only known each other for two weeks, but they didn't seem to like one another from day one.

"No. But I didn't see you volunteer," he answered.

Natasha laughed and got off the chair elegantly. She didn't take Steve's defensiveness serious. To other people, he probably looked intimidating, but not to the Black Widow.

"Bucky is a freaking Drill Sargent, and you know it. And (Y/N) is just really stubborn. And lazy. A perfect combination," she mentioned and patted Steves' shoulder.

Sam tried to hide a laugh. Okay, she wasn't the only one who noticed.

"It's going to be fine," Steve said, his voice steady.

But his face didn't seem so sure anymore.

—

(Y/N) was ripped out of her sleep by someone pulling her blanket off.

"Get up, sleepyhead," a stern male voice said at the foot of her bed.

(Y/N) opened her eyes and was faced with a grumpy Bucky staring at her. The usually messy hair was tied to a bun at the nape of his neck. If it weren't this early, she would have stared at him and soaked in his attractive physic. She did that a lot. Stare at him. It's like her brain didn't want to, but her body had a mind of her own. Her eyes always travelled to him when he was in a room with her.

"Are you kidding? What time is it?" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Her head moved around, trying to spot her phone to look at the time.

"It's six a.m. You are already thirty minutes late," Bucky stated and stepped to her closet.

"What are you talking about?" she asked and grabbed her phone from the nightstand.

It's not like she didn't trust him, but she needed to see the time herself. She spotted five texts and one call from Bucky. All of them urged her to get up or asked her where the hell she was. Stalker much? Where did he even get her number?

"I told you yesterday, the morning run starts at 5.30 a.m., and then we train," he said.

She dropped her phone on the bed with frustration and turned to him.

"I thought that was a joke," she whispered and then added with a louder voice, "what the hell are you doing?"

Bucky had opened her closet and started searching for something. How rude. Her underwear was in there.

"Looking for your training clothes," he said.

She frowned. Okay, Bucky was acting weird.

"I can dress on my own," she mumbled.

Bucky turned around suddenly. He seemed to have found what he wanted and dropped it on her bed. Yoga pants, Tank top and running shoes. (Y/N) sat up and stared at him.

"Are you sure? Just as good as you can be on time?" he asked sarcastically.

She wanted to slap that grin off his face. He always grinned at her like that. It seemed to be reserved for her. Bucky just liked being a pain in her ass.

"This isn't the freaking army, Barnes," she growled and stared at the pile.

It felt like she hadn't seen workout clothes in years. She didn't enjoy working out. This was weird for someone who wanted to become an Avenger. She knew she had to give her everything so they would take her fully into the team.

"Doll, if this were the army, you would be calling me Sargent Barnes," he said with a cheeky smile.

Then he turned around to the door. (Y/N) hated how much swagger he had in his step.

"Five minutes," he added.

(Y/N) grabbed the shoe on the bed and threw it. But it only hit the door and not his head.

"Well, screw you, Sargent Barnes," she yelled.

Then she fell back on the bed and let out a frustrated groan. She was sure she heard a male laugh through the door.

Natasha told her that this would be exhausting. Being trained by Bucky. He would go hard on her. She said something about the military background and Hydra training. But these were the Avengers. She didn't even understand why she needed this training. She had powers. She could adapt abilities by touching. If she touched Steve, she was just as strong as him. When (Y/N) touched Spidy, she could crawl walls and so on. She just couldn't fight. She never inherits their skills.

—

"I hate you," she said to him about the 50th time today.

Her back landed on the matt again. And she was surprised it wasn't broken yet.

"Your endurance as well as your upper body strength suck," he lectured her.

Bucky ignored her statement about hating him. She had mumbled it under her breath so many times he didn't feel the need to acknowledge it. (Y/N) huffed and stared at him reproachfully. Even now, she looked beautiful. Propped up on her elbows, covered in sweat with furrowed brows. She was pissed. At least she acted like it. She seemed to be angrier at herself for not getting it than at him. She did mess up a lot of the instructions he gave her. But she had potential.

"If you let me use my powers, it wouldn't be this bad. I would get your super serum strength," (Y/N) mumbled and rubbed a hand over her face.

Bucky laughed and stretched a hand out to help her up. It was the gentleman in him. Something he never got entirely rid of over the years. He wasn't going soft on her, but he still had basic manners, like holding open the door and helping a woman up.

"Steve let you use your powers, didn't he?" Bucky asked her.

(Y/N) sighed and stretched her limps.

"He did, but it was easier. Because he is fucking strong. How am I supposed to beat someone like you?" she growled.

"Natasha does it every day," he pointed out.

(Y/N) stopped rubbing her sore neck and rolled her eyes.

"Yea, I know she is good at everything. Stupid perfect woman," she said.

Bucky knew what she was trying to do. It was not gonna work with him. She tried getting his reassurance. She was trying it for about the fifth time today. To get his sympathy. He only understood now what Steve meant. He was close to giving in. She gave him one of her innocent smiles, and if he didn't know what she was doing, he would have dropped everything then and there.

"Doll, not gonna work. I'm not Steve. I won't let you use powers or get out of training," he said with a cheeky smile and raised brows.

(Y/N) dropped her head. She swore under her breath. Good, that girl swore like a pirate. And he found it slightly endearing.

"Screw you," she said, "Sargent Barnes."

She placed her hands on her hips and huffed.

"In position," he laughed, "Recruit."

---

"No, she can't. She isn't ready yet. She wouldn't last five minutes in the field," Bucky said and puffed his chest out.

This was new for (Y/N) to see Bucky was always the one making himself smaller than he was. He didn't want to be seen. Or to seem less dangerous. But not now. He stood next to her chair with his legs firmly placed and his Arms crossed. Not with his hips jolted out. She had noticed the difference between Bucky Barnes and Sargent James Buchanan Barnes. She liked Bucky better.

"Are you sure? I need another asset," Steve said and looked between her and Bucky.

(Y/N) seemed furious. Bucky didn't believe she was ready for the mission. And he told Steve, in front of everyone. She felt embarrassed and humiliated.

"Yes, she isn't good enough yet," Bucky then said.

Or Sargent Bucky. She looked up at him. He only spared her a glance. She thought to see something that resembles regret. But then he looked away. So she let her eyes travel over the Avengers. All of them looked at her with pity. Without another word, she got up from her chair. She didn't feel the need to argue. Because the worst part was Bucky was right. It had been two months, and she still didn't learn it. Her head was held high as she stepped past the soldier and out of the door. She needed a drink.

"(Y/N)," Bucky yelled behind her.

He must have noticed that she was upset, but she continued walking. She didn't wanna see his face right now. She would punch it most likely.

"Wait," Bucky then said and grabbed her hand.

He had caught her just when she stepped foot into the kitchen. He grabbed her wrist to stop her. (Y/N) Spun around to the brunette man. If her look could kill someone, he would be dead. Very dead.

"Look, we'll train more. And then you can go on missions. I promise you. I just don't want you to go out there unprepared. Something could happen," Bucky tried to explain.

"I can do it. Why do I need this training? I could just get Wanda's power and use it in the field," she yelled.

Her eyes were fixed on his hand gripping her wrist. It was his metal arm; she was never bothered by it. She actually liked when it touched her while training. It cooled her down.

"You don't get it. What if you are in the field and none of us is near. I know the power manipulation doesn't hold for long. What if you are somewhere with no superpowered human? You are useless," he grunted.

He hated her stubbornness. Why couldn't she just listen like Steve promised him she would. Training her was exhausting because she didn't want to train. If she would actually put effort into it, she would be better.

(Y/N) gave him a look, and a sudden urge overtook her. She wanted to show him that she could beat him. She wasn't useless. She had survived without his help for so long, so she didn't need him now.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, and with that, she stretched out her other hand and touched his forehead.

Her skin touched his, and he felt a sudden rush go through him. Like something was pulling on him. And it wasn't because he touched her. Before he could register what she was doing, she had turned her hand so that she was gripping his arm, spun around and flipped him over her shoulder. Bucky landed on his back next to one of the kitchen chairs. Her left boot on his chest. She gave him defining smile. She had stolen his power. Well, he still had it, but they were equal now. His mouth opened slightly and closed again. What just happened?

"Sorry? What was that about being useless?" she asked teasingly.

Okay, if she was going to play it like that. Without warning, he kicked his foot against her other leg. She lost her balance, and Bucky rolled out from under her left foot. He jumped to his feet and stood opposite of her. They stared at each other. Both of them were in a defensive position. He couldn't help but notice that it looked exactly how he taught her. Not bad.

"Oh, Doll. You really wanna do this?" he asked her with a small smile.

(Y/N) Didn't feel the need to answer. She just stormed in his direction and threw a fist at him. He caught it midair and held it in his palm. And he felt the force she used to hit him. That was his strength in her. He spun her around. The girls back was pressed against his chest. He had one arm pinned to her chest and the other around her neck, where he applied light pressure. He could smell her perfume and feel her rapid breathing.

"You would be dead just about now," he mumbled into her ear.

"Not so much," she grunted and stomped her heel to his foot. Bucky let her go in shock.

Bucky realised now this was different. This wasn't like training. They were fighting, and she was intent on winning. (Y/N) spun around, and then she grabbed a vase and threw it at him. He ducked it in shock while it shattered against the white wall behind him. She was angry. This wasn't fun for her. Bucky felt bad for a split second, then he remembered that none of this was his fault. Slowly he got up from his position. He studied her face. (Y/N)'s eyes looked more like slits and not as bright as usual.

"Have I ever told you how insane you are?" he mumbled.

She huffed out air from her nose. They stared at each other for another second before both of them fully charged at each other.

"Au," (Y/N) moaned while Bruce stitched up the cut on her forehead.

He wasn't feeling sorry for her, that much she could see. She sat at one of the barstools. The one that was still standing. With a bruised lip and a cut on her forehead. But she still had Bucky's ability, so she did already feel it healing. Bucky sat on another chair where Tony was fixing his metal arm, where she rammed a knife into. It had gotten out of hand really fast. Some of the decor in the room was broken, while Bucky and (Y/N) were both hurt. And (Y/N) felt like a madwoman. She wasn't sure what came over her. She was just so angry, and Bucky being Bucky made it worse. And now, she felt ashamed. She needed to apologise to Bucky, and she hated that.

"Normal people just have sex to blow off their steam, but you try to kill each other," Sam said as he cleaned up some shards.

"We didn't try to kill each other," (Y/N) mumbled, her eyes cast down.

She hissed when Bruce knotted the thread. Great, that would scar. She didn't dare to look at the former Winter Soldier. But she heard Tony's tool shut off.

"You two need to clean this and get this issue between you out of the way," Tony said, pointing at them.

The rest of the Avengers left the room quietly. (Y/N) gave Bucky a shy look. He seemed just as embarrassed as her. So she decided to start.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, just as Bucky said the same.

Bucky looked up at her. He studied her face for a second before he got up and took a careful step closer. Only now (Y/N) noticed that she could hear his heartbeat, courtesy of his own power. It was steady and slow.

"Look, I know you are frustrated that you can't go on missions yet. I am not refusing it because I want to hurt you, quite the opposite, actually. I don't want you to go out there and hurt yourself. I want you to be ready and be able to take care of yourself," he explained slowly.

(Y/N) stopped playing with her fingers and raised her head with a sigh. She hopped off the chair and met Bucky in the middle.

"I know," she said, "I am sorry I threw a plate at you."

Bucky laughed, and it was like music to her ears. This wasn't new. She always enjoyed his laugh.

"You know, sometimes I wonder why we fight so much," he then said.

(Y/N) joined his laugh and decided to just be helpful for a second. She grabbed a broom and continued sweeping.

"I think it is actually because we are very alike," she told him and shrugged.

Bucky shook his head at her and started placing the chairs upright. He couldn't believe what she was saying. (Y/N) was very different from him. She was pure. As stupid as it sounded, she was. Her heart was good, and she loved people with all her heart. She lived in the sun, while Bucky was a man with a dark past and a jumbled memory.

"No, we disagree constantly," he said.

(Y/N) was about to be annoyed with him, but then she saw his wink and knew he was joking. And then she laughed. This was weird. Bucky and her joking.

"Funny," she commented.

"I can be fun if I want to," he said with a cheeky smile.

(Y/N) shook her head over the man's behaviour. And even if she didn't want it to, a genuine smile slipped on her lips. She watched him for a second. Maybe she and Bucky could have fun as well and not just fight.

"Are you staring at me?" Bucky suddenly asked her and lifted his head.

She tried covering her blush, but not so lucky.

"Uhm, no... Just continue cleaning," she mumbled and concentrated on her sweeping.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #statierogers #katies writings #marvel #avengers #wintersoilder #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #marvel fic #avengers imagine #avengers fic #mcu #white wolf #white wolf x reader #wintersoilder x reader #james buchanan barnes

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stusbunker · 6 years

Text

Questions: What If?

A Supernatural Fan-fiction

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Setting: Season 10

Entry: Erica’s 30th Fluffy Birthday Challenge

Prompt: #16. If Tomorrow Never Comes- Garth Brooks

Chapter 4 of my Questions Series

A/N: Happy Birthday Erica @ericaprice2008! Thanks for letting a new SPN blog in on the fun. This developed into a series because there isn't enough fluff in the Winchesters' lives and I am now a sap. I think it is readable as a stand alone fic if you don’t want to read it all. This segment includes regular show violence, swearing, and monsters. Lyrics in italics. xoxo Stu

The case had taken its toll on her and Dean, leaving Sam to drive the Impala back to the Bunker. The passing headlights grew fewer as the late night hours bled into the early morning mists. Something had broken open inside him when Y/N was taunting the witch, the way she refused to back down. Her words ran through his mind like a bad radio jingle.

“I’ve no one left to lose, Elphaba. Give me your best shot!”

She couldn’t have meant it? After everything they had endured together, breaking free of Gadreel, losing Dean to the demon inside him and getting him cured and home. Hadn’t that made her one of them? Weren’t they hers to lose? Wasn’t she his? No, thought Sam. She wasn’t and he’d been a fool to pretend she felt more than friendship towards him. If her words meant anything, it was that he was, somehow, still naive.

He tucked the keys in his jeans pocket and bent over to open the passenger side door. The very few times Dean let him drive; she sat shotgun. Her face scrunching in the dim lights of the garage.

“Hmmm, don’t wanna move,” she whined, Sam couldn’t help but smile at her childlike pout.

“Come on Sleepy, your bed’s waiting,” Sam draped her arm around his shoulders, scooping her up at the knees.

“Yessss, score,” Y/N murmured into his neck without even opening an eye. He knew he was only carrying her for selfish reasons, but if both parties benefited it couldn’t be a total loss, right? She smelled of incense and her body lotion, the smoke lingering on her hair. He breathed her in before setting her casually on to her unmade bed.

“Thanks, Samwise,” she whispered before wrestling out of her jacket.

“‘Night, doll,” he replied too low for her to hear. Switching off her light as he gently closed the bedroom door.

The next day Sam found Y/N dancing around the kitchen, doing something that appeared to be cooking but bordered on chaos. She was blaring an old country song and two stepping as she fried potatoes. He waited against the door frame, not wanting to break her revelry. His stomach growled with the cooking oil in the air, his chest tightening with each easy sway of her head as she hollered along to the music.

“Oh, I’ve got friends- in looooooooow, places!” She finished, spinning to dump the first batch on some paper towels.

Sam tried to bite back his laughter, giving her a snarky slow clap as she realized he was there.

“Har-har, Winchester. Don’t act like it’s not true.” She stuck her tongue out at him and plopped the plate of potatoes on to the table. There was something baking in the oven and just as the second set of potatoes hit the fryer, she started to slice up a cantaloupe.

“Do I smell breakfast?!” Dean sauntered in, running his hand over his bed head. “Y/N? No, wait, scratch that, I’m not even going to ask.” Dean downplayed his surprise and grabbed his designated coffee mug.

The hunters quickly settled in for a shared meal, not eating over their laptops with research, not grabbing whatever fast food they could find. It was easy domesticity and Sam couldn’t help but savor it. Dean killed the mood when he began teasing Y/N on her pick of radio station, but she held her ground arguing that in the kitchen, “Chef picks the music and the rest should be chewing with their mouths closed.”

The day went on like any other, taking turns scrolling for cases, squabbling over the general chores that kept the bunker livable and occasional bantering. It was a rare good day. Y/N called it an early night, claiming she had a show she wanted to catch up on.

Dean gave her a salute-like wave as she slinked back down the hall in her pajama pants and slippers. Sam had mumbled a good night, trying to keep his eyes from following every move she made.

“Dude, what is with you?!” Dean tossed a bottle cap across the table at his painfully obvious brother.

“Nothing,” Sam stared back at the screen with his brow pinched.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, he shook his head and went back to reading. He drained his beer and turned in for the night. Leaving Sam to stew over his longing ache in solitude.

Two days later

Y/N loaded their bags into the trunk as Dean checked the oil. Sam was the last one out of the Bunker, hands full of coffees for the road. They had a half day’s drive ahead and were working out their strategy for interviews.

“Why don’t we take the parents while Dean goes and talks to the coroner?” Y/N asked leaning over the back seat to see Sam’s phone and the map of the town.

“Uh, why don’t I go to the coroner? Dean could probably sucker a pastry out of the vic’s mother.”

Dean looked over at Sam confused, yet impressed. “Look at you having my back.”

Sam shrugged, “Just don’t want to deal with hangry Dean later if this takes awhile.”

She shifted back into her seat, missing Dean’s gaze in the rear view mirror. He did not need this, whatever this was that was going on between Sammy and her. He held his tongue, worked the case and got some cheesecake. All in all not a bad day on the road. He didn’t like being the levelheaded one, but Sam was leaving him no option.

She swung at the shifter with Sam’s face. Her shorter arms forced her closer to the monster than she would have liked. Its eyes danced as it easily dodged her blade. Its lips curled viciously as it saw her tire, “running out of adrenaline there little huntress?”

“Why? Need a break?” She huffed and flipped the knife between her fingers.

“Sam’s going to be so devastated when he sees what I do to you,” the creature taunted.

“Yeah, well, if I were you; I would be worrying more about what I am going to do to you,” she wasn’t taking the bate.

The face she knew like the back of her hand made a look of mock revelation, “Oh, you don’t know do you?” It kept her circling in the condemned house, the furniture littering their paths as they each tried to get the upper hand.

“Yeah, Sam is fairly private, isn’t he?” The shifter tossed over a desk, forcing her to lose her balance. She hopped out of the way only to topple over the dingy sofa. It sprang above her, pinning her against the faded cushions.

“He thinks about you, like this, squirming underneath him, out of breath and eyes burst open with want.” She recoiled as the beast trailed Sam’s perfect nose up her jaw.

“Shut up, mutant!” She spat into its face, giving her the opening she needed, she rolled hard against the shifter, freeing her knife hand and slashing at its cheek. It growled in pain and outrage. She tried to scramble away as voices called from the back of the house.

“Sam!” She cried, the shifter stood, pulling her to its chest, holding her head at a neck snapping angle between Sam’s strong arms.

“Sam!” It mocked back. “Save me! Oh, princess, this is going to be a gruesome ending to your little ‘will they, won’t they’ saga.”

“Let her go, Sparky!” Dean’s icy voice barked as he aimed his gun at his brother’s face.

Sam’s face pinched as he saw her being held in such a way by his hands. “It’s going to be alright, Y/N.”

“Sam, I’m scared,” she played it up, giving the monster the dramatics it obviously craved.

“I know you are, I’m right here.”

“Seriously? One minute you’re threatening me and then lover boy shows up and you turn in to a sniveling mess! Woman up!” The shifter complained. “And you, Dean, mister tough guy, if you were going to shoot me you--” The shot rang out across the room. One silver bullet to the head from Sam’s gun.

“I hate when they bestow their judgement upon us, fucking monologues,” Y/N stretched her neck and stepped away from the corpse.

“Alright?” Dean asked, checking that the monster stayed down with an extra stab of his knife to its heart.

“Yeah, took you long enough.”

Sam approached her nervously, not sure how much she would want to be near him after someone with his face had just man-handled her. “Sorry, got a little tied up,” he held up his wrists to show her the chaffing from his bindings.

“Always knew you were a kinky bastard,” Dean muttered. “Let’s torch the imposter before we have to explain another one of your dead bodies.”

Dean dragged the body by the feet as Y/N and Sam cleared a path through the creaking house. “Are you hurt?” Sam’s voice dropped as she rubbed her lower back.

“Nothing a hot bath won’t fix.” she shrugged. “Also, you suck.”

Sam laughed, thinking she was referring to shifter-him. When her face remained serious, panic crept up his back. “What did he say?”

“I’m pretty sure it was a ‘she’, but anyway let’s just say I don’t like being lied to Winchester.” Her face was a stone mask, her eyes burning into him as the sourness of guilt flooded his stomach.

“Guys! Let’s go!” Dean called from the back lot. The moment was broken, she looked away and Sam swallowed all explanation.

The ride home was one of utter silence, broken only by the radio or Dean complaining about the lack of stations. Sam stared out into the night and Y/N curled up with her earbuds and her latest podcast. Dean was going to have to say something, but he was not in the mood tonight. He’d let Baby bring them home in one piece first, give everyone some space.

The next day

When she wasn’t hiding in her room with the door locked, Y/N had been short with each of them all day. Dean coaxed her out with coffee and a grocery run, letting the fresh air ease the mood before poking the bear.

“That shifter got under you skin, huh? It’s always tough when they look like somebody you care about.” Dean asked as he pulled into the parking space. She looked at him like he had something on his face, amused yet trying to politely listen.

“What?”

“Are you trying to have a heart-to-heart with me?” she sighed, rolling her eyes as Dean huffed.

“Whatever,” he slammed the driver door and let her push the cart. She kept him in check in the bakery, only letting him buy two pies for the week. They picked over the produce, knowing Sam would bitch if they got the wrong stuff. They approached the check out line joking with each other, the old cashier beaming at them.

“Aren’t you two sweet?” The lady’s tag read Francine.

“Thanks, Franny, but she’s my sister.” Dean continued to flirt with the clerk as Y/N got the bags back into the cart.

“You two drive safe!” The smitten lady waved, Dean having made her day.

“Sister, huh?” Y/N bumped Dean with her shoulder as they fitted the bags carefully on the floor of the backseat, not wanting to pop the trunk in a busy parking lot.

“Yeah, I mean, would you prefer sister-in-law?” Dean gave her a look.

“Don’t, Dean. Just, not right now,” her voice fell and he knew he had hit a nerve.

“That’s what this is about? What the hell did that shifter say?!” Dean refused to start the car until she gave the unsavory details, his knuckles white against the wheel at times. She couldn’t look him in the eye, but her voice gave her away.

“So you’re pissed because Sam hasn’t told you how he feels?” Dean guessed, half certain he was keeping up.

“Is that how he feels?” Y/N challenged, watching Dean’s face as he realized he had walked right into that.

“You’re going to have to ask him that.” Dean exhaled as she accepted his complete bullshit response. “But, and this is a big but, would it be a bad thing if he did?”

Y/N mulled over that question, just giving Dean a tortured look as he finally pulled back into traffic.

She helped Dean sort the groceries, before snagging a bag of Krunchers and disappearing back into her room for the night. Dean approached Sam with a beer and a stern look.

“You have got to talk to her, man. Whatever is going on between you two? I’m done. I had my Dr. Phil moment and now it’s on you.” Dean raised his bottle in a toasting motion and slumped into his usual spot at the library table.

“What’d she say?” Sam asked, lips tightening and leaning forward.

“Nuh-uh, man,” Dean gave his brother an incredulous look. “I like my parts where they are thank you very much.”

After a few minutes of heavy silence, Dean broke, “Come on! You don’t pansy out like this, go tell her.” Dean scrolled on his computer, trying to move past the awkwardness.

“Tell her what?” Sam asked, tisking, failing horribly at hiding his emotions.

Dean cleared his throat and looked Sam straight in the eye. “You’ve been trying to lie to me since you were four, Sam. You’re still terrible at it. Especially when it comes to this crap.”

Dean wasn’t having it, not anymore. Sam’s mouth curled down with his embarrassment, he scratched the back of his head in chagrin.

“I don’t know, man. I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“Look, I’m not Mister-Happy-Endings-- But if I’ve learned ANYTHING is that you take the good things as they come. Guys like us, it doesn’t happen too often.” Dean’s hand was palm up like it was an offer, eyes wide, hoping that Sam would stop overthinking for once.

Sam’s lips were tight, listening to Dean as if in conflict. He should have made an argument, but wanted Dean to be right. Sam needed her in his life, for however long she would stay. Could he risk losing her by admitting how he felt?

An hour later

Sam lingered outside of her bedroom door, his chest rising with calming breaths that weren’t helping. She was blasting her music again, but something like a sob resonated below the melody. Sam’s worry overtook his fear and he knocked.

“Go away!” she snapped.

“Y/N? Everything alright?” Sam’s voice was rougher than he meant it, but he had to nearly scream to make it over the song.

“Just leave me alone,” she growled back.

“Not gonna happen.” Sam tucked his hair behind his ears and pressed his head to the door.

“Stubborn sonofabitch,” he heard her say, soon the door swung open, causing him to catch himself on the door jam. “What?!” Her eyes were red and her hair was matted, and Sam couldn’t stop staring at her.

And the thought crosses my mind If I never wake up in the morning Would she ever doubt the way I feel About her in my heart

If tomorrow never comes-

She just glared at him, shaking the door with the hand she didn’t have balled on her hip. “I love you.”

“What?!” She shouted, his voice lost in the old Garth Brooks’ song. She spun to turn the dial to a conversational level. Sam scrunched his nose and cleared his throat as she turned back around, the loose sides of her robe swaying with the motion. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Her features had turned curious, her arms crossed over her chest. He ducked his head down and stepped closer to her. “I love you.”

“What?” She asked again, eyes glistening as her head tilted to see him better.

He chuckled, “Third times a charm, huh? I love you, Y/N. I just thought you should know. I don’t know what that shifter said was running through my head, but I shouldn’t have hid this from you, for so long.”

Sam smiled shyly down at her now. His eyes hooded in anticipation and an inkling of hope. She reached up and brushed his hair back, a soft smile curling her luscious lips. He closed his eyes at the softness of her palm, relishing in the closeness. “I love you, too, Sam.” Her voice cracked, but the richness returned as she finished, “but you still suck.”

He outright laughed now, a deep chortle, as his hands snaked around her waist. “May I?” he asked as he angled his face just above hers. She answered by diving in, taking his waiting lips in a hungry kiss. He melted against her and forgot everything that had been keeping him from this bliss.

Next Chapter: Where?

@dontshootmespence @madlu45 @because-imma-lady-assface

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livelovelaug-h · 6 years

Text

Sad truths

Sam x reader

Summary - I'm not really good at these. Finding out who kills you is a very big surprise. Who is it? And how? Hmmmm big plot twist at the end.

Warnings- angst. Stabbing?

A/n: this is for @waywardrose13 1k challenge!! #Rose1KChallenge. My line is in bold and is "" in the future ....do I make it?" "No". Also Not my gif. Probs some spelling mistakes.

~~~~

Where were you? Wtf back at the bunker? Okay....

You started walking towards where you heard a voice. You were in the doorframe of the kitchen peeking in you saw dean and Sam.? Weren't they just with you. They seemed older though? How? We're you in the future maybe? Dean walked away back to his room Probably. You felt someone tap you and you turned around and let out a big gasp. That person looked just like you. ... But a lot paler.

"where am I? Who are you?"

"you're in the future. I'm you".

"Whaaa...... Are you so pale and their not?"

"because your-". And then she disappeared and you woke up to Sam staring at you.

"what did you do to her?."

"nothing I'm telling her, her future."

And how would you know that.

Currently you were tied up with Sam by someone you've been tracking down for quite some time. Her name is Ava and apparently a superhuman that knows a lot of stuff. She wasn't really doing anything wrong but you were supposed to get her and bring her to God aka Chuck. You guys walked in there and Dean tried putting handcuffs on her so here you guys were now. Except she Zapped Dean back to the bunker- lucky him. Right now she says it's about you and Sam. You & Sam have been dating for about 2 years. You guys met on a hunt and it was love at first sight- I mean of course it was for you, he's hot.

Sam: What do you want from us?

"I know you guys are going to try and kill me and I can't have that happen."

"for the 20th time we're not going to kill you" you said.

"I think that may be true but I have to tell you guys that's your futures not looking to good".

"yeah? And what is that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"I'll gladly show you".

There you were back in the bunker standing now the library. The older Sam and Dean were at the tables researching. You and Sam stood far away from then and Sam looked very confused. "This is where she took you before?"

"yes". "why do we look- oh yea the future. Okay. Now what?"

"idk I guess we just wait".

"what happened when you came-"

" ... "

"what ?" You felt something tap your shoulder again and you turned around to see the paler self you again.

"Sam this is-".

"You yeah I get it. But why is she/you so pale?"

" wait - so in the future ....do I make it?"

"no. And you'll be surprised who will kill you".

you felt sick to your stomach i mean you knew you would die kinda young but soon-ish? You looked over at Sam with a questioning face

"that's right" she says.

"wh-what??" You say.

"Sam kills you" Sam tightens his jaw.

"I would never kill her".

"🤷 sometimes you have to do, what you have to do."

"how long into the future is this".

"oh this is 7 years... But you've been dead."

"how long?"

"I'm afraid i already said too much."

"oh come on cut the crap" Sam says to her.

"fine it's your funeral. Literally"

Now here you were In some weird room that's huge and white. There's dean In a chair and you and Sammy. There's a guy with a knife up to dean's neck-

"who do you pick Sammy? The girl or your brother?"

"neither we're all leaving here alive. I'll give you anything else you want."

"bad answer." He says while cutting some of Dean's throat.

"Stop!!"

"okay." He says and walks over to you and strokes your cheek. "What about her?"

"don't!". Hmm "you better choose before I come back".

"Sam what are we gonna do about this?"

"can you get out of your ropes?". "Ughhhh, no."

Sam tried his hardest to get out and so did you. "Come on, come on" Sam whispered.

The guy came back-

"did you decide?" "fuck. off."

"I thought so" he used a spell and his eyes lit up & so did Sams, it turned a dark green.

"here" he handed Sam the knife. "Kill the person you choose".

Sam Walked over to you and just stabbed you.

Your mouth dropped down.

"no" Sam whispers. Everything fades back to where you were with Ava & you guys weren't tied down anymore. You kinda wanted to cry and as you look over towards the girl she disappears.

"where did she go" you asked out loud.

"I dont know."

".....well we should, um we should head back."

"yeah, hey y/n that's not gonna happen okay-"

"its okay Sam. we can't do anything about it he made you do it." you said about to walk away when he grabs your arm. He has tears in his eyes.

"hey, no it's not okay because I'm going to do everything in my power to not let that happen even if that means me not working on that case then so be it. I can't lose you."

"I know Sam. I can't lose you either. We'll find a way."

Then you felt it- his lips on your lips in the most needy passionate kiss ever. The one where he thinks he's going to lose you. You both knew theres Probably nothing you could do but at least you get about 6 maybe more years and that's all that matters. You had an idea.

You pulled back "come on, let's go back home."

He interlocks your hands and walks to where the Impala was parked.

"hey are you guys okay? where is she?" Dean asked.

"well.. she disappeared." You said.

"how did you guys get out ?" "She let us go"

"are you okay" "were fine" Sam says and walks away.

"what happened?"

"it's nothing really. I'm going to go take a walk I'll be back soon."

"Okay?" Deans says and you walk out. You have been crying for over two hours and you saw a missed call from Sam but you couldn't answer. You were battling yourself weather or not you should do it now later. But the longer you wait the more painful it will be.

You put the box in the ground and waited.......

"ah yes what can I do for you y/n" a demon said.

"I want to make a deal."

"What kind of a deal?"

"I want you to erase Sam and Dean's memories of me. "

"why would you want to do that?"

"because I need to. Now are you going to or not?"

"what's in it for me?"

"what do you want?"

"hmm good question but I think you-"

"not my soul pick. Ill work for you or I'll help u get some souls".

"Sounds good, we'll arrange something. I'll go get the Winchesters memories erased and the angel of course."

"yes thank you. And take all my stuff out of there." He nods his head. With the small swoosh that's when it really hit you and you cried so hard that no sound even came out.

The next morning-

You went to a diner to get some coffee of course you haven't slept and you went way across town so you wouldn't run into the love of your life that you couldnt have and his brother. You were getting sugar packets when you dropped some on the floor and when you went down to pick them up your hand touched another hand.

"oh I'm sorry I didn't see- ".

"Sam?" You gasped also instantly getting tears in your eyes.

"Do I know you, you look familiar?"

Tears started falling down "no you don't" you whispered but loud enough for him to hear and walked away. This is going to be hell.

46 notes · View notes

vibingintheritzcar · 4 years

Text

It’s Hate Until It’s Goodbye

Plot : while able to keep a professional relationship on the field, and a mild relationship in the office, you and Spencer have more bad days then good and can’t seem to find a reason; until disaster strikes - female reader

Content : neutral, angst, enemies to lovers

Note : mild arguing, arguing, yelling, kidnapping and mild torture inflicted on reader

Feel free to leave requests <3

MASTERLIST

PART TWO

. . .

“𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙞𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙣𝙡𝙮 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙮 𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙬 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙄 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙩 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜. 𝙎𝙤 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚, 𝙔/𝙉, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚.”

. . .

You had taken deep breaths, averted your attention elsewhere, and pretended like he had never said anything for the past four days. But sweeping it under the rug only layered the irritation and your mind brews an incoming explosion.

An unwritten rule lies between you two; no arguing on the field. Neither of you wanted to hinder the investigation in anyway, so the act was swiftly dropped as soon as the jet landed.

Emphasis on the act, because the only thing you were better at hiding at then your annoyance with him on the field is where that annoyance actually roots from.

You’ve hid it so well that you don’t even know where it originates.

But the present moment is thick with so much tension you nearly didn’t make it till the end of the case, because Spencer, also angry with JJ over Emily, pulled out your hair with tweezers the entire time.

Out of everything he does, you hate his passive aggressive, non confrontational quips. The ones where any outsider wouldn’t catch onto if it wasn’t for his condescending tone, and the context truly makes it worse.

And that’s become his speciality as of now, and when he couldn’t take his anger out on JJ, he turned to you, and laid it on thick.

He planted a mine and all he has to do is take one wrong step.

“You know your mug isn’t going anywhere.” His snarky, though calm, voice breaks through your thoughts, his eyes glancing down to your clenched hand on your coffee. Nevermidning how much your palm burns, you smoothly send him a glare, similar to that of a cats.

He scoffs, eyes lighting with a condescending amusement. You remain silent, trying to concentrate on your paperwork, despite the doctor leaning over the upper railing, hellbent on a reaction.

“You should relax. Your stress is really showing on that work.” You manage to only swallow sharply, attempting to stall the eruption. Spencer notices, as he always does, and smirks.

The same smirk that makes you want to slap him or maybe something else you can’t describe. Otherwise known as the demon that’s been haunting you for almost two years.

He tilts his head, leaning down closer, “oh, wait! No, that’s just how your work always looks. My mistake.”

“Don’t you have something better to do, Reid?” You finally snap, unable to stop it, meeting his dark eyes with a challenging glower. “Like, I don’t know, avoiding your problems?”

His cockiness fades, his eyes narrowing in an equally toxic glare. His arms go rigid, veins flexing as they always do when you pick a fight, as if he’s trying to contain some part of himself. “Very funny. Your use of the word like is very elementary, L/N.”

“So is your passive aggressive defense,” knowing yourself well enough to escape this situation before you do something you regret, you stand. “But hey, we all got our flaws. Sometimes god just hands out more to others.”

Sending a manipulative, annoyingly playful wink his way results in something in him snapping. His posture straightens, and his jaw tightens. “What exactly are my flaws?”

Your mind races and answers before you can stop it. Horribly attractive, too good with kids, cheekbones and jawline should be a sin, and seem a little too happy with everyone else.

But of course, you write those off as intrusive thoughts and reply with a snappy, preplanned, remark. “You don’t realize I’m not your personal punching bag, Doctor, that’s one. If you have a problem with everything that’s happened, I’m not your relief system.”

His lips part, and that’s the only reaction you see before you start off, not sure where you’re heading but wanting away from here.

You make it to the staircase, hoping your anger will billow down with every step, but see Spencer’s already at the top of the short set of carpeted stairs.

His leverage above you must’ve given him a confidence boost, because his question is spewed violently. “Don’t deflect how you’ve been for the last seventeen months on me.”

Every hair on your body stands up, tensing for a flight or fight response. “Hypocritical responses are just a thing for doctors, aren’t they?”

The hatred in his eyes makes you want to either wince or put up a stronger defense. “Could say the same for jealously within underachievers.”

There’s a sharp pain of something within you, but the frustration and offense overcomes whatever it may be. Stalking up the stairs, you stop next to him, faces dangerously close.

“Keep telling yourself people are jealous of you, Dr. Reid, might help you sleep at night.” You brush past him, not bothering to glance at his reaction.

Something extreme had to happen to melt off the frustration. But hell’s waters would have to run cold.

And they, along with your blood, did so when the sun withered away to darkness that night.

. . .

“Good morning my lovelies,” Garcia says as she hands the only paper version of the report to Spencer, “but unfortunately, it is not a good morning for the loved ones of Jacey Klein and Jasmine Pinnock.”

Pictures of the women, alive with smiling faces, and dead with a bullet hole in their heads, land on the screen, Garcia turning away. The map tells them that they won’t be needing to do any traveling; it’s here at home.

Hotch’s eyebrows furrow even further, taking a quick glance around the table. “Where’s L/N?”

Morgan sits up further, equally as confused. “You haven’t seen her either? We just assumed she called in sick. . .”

“I saw her leave early yesterday,” JJ pipes up, taking a swift glimpse at Reid, “she looked pale, frustrated, and not herself.”

Spencer pretends not to notice his co-workers accusing look. Hotch takes a thought and then speaks. “I’ll call her. Garcia, explain what we know.”

Penelope hesitates, worry creasing her forehead, but she brings herself out of it. “Both were found in an alleyway downtown, within twelve hours of their disappearance, a day apart. Mild signs of torture and a single gunshot to the head.”

“Any similarities between the two?” Rossi enquires, noticing the racial difference.

“Both were successful, dependent women. Pinnock was in real estate, Klein owned a Sandwhich shop. Last known locations were on 28th Avenue, different apartment buildings but close in proximity.” Garcia’s voice wavers as it comes near the end, the realization dawning in on her.

Hair raises on everyone’s necks. “And,” Garcia continues, “that’s where Y/N’s apartment complex is.”

Spencer’s mind is unable to process it all for a moment. Mostly, that all of the supposed hate inside of him shattered within those moments.

Silence falls on the team, eyes bouncing to the empty chair next to Emily. Hotch is the first to take initiative. “We can’t assume that she’s been victimized. She could just be at home.”

“Yeah,” Morgan’s fear quickly shifts into low tolerance, “where two other abductions have taken place near by.”

“We need to get down there,” Emily already stands on her feet, “just in case. It’s not like her just to not call in.”

No one asked Spencer, however, he feels like he owes an explanation, an answer for her location. She was just at a friends. With her family. Something that could relieve the tension and soothe his churning guilt.

He doesn’t hear any of what the team says next, only that in the next minute, all but him and JJ are gone. She looks on, worried though confused, as his usually soft almond eyes harden to stone.

He has an IQ if 187, and doesn’t have the answer to why this is happening now.

. . .

Your head hurts so horribly it feels ice cold. Blinking irritates your corneas and your temples, also aching with purpling bruising.

A giant pit sits in your stomach. Momentary confusion rushes through you when you can’t feel your arms as you regain more consciousness; oh, they’re asleep. Behind you, but asleep.

The angle and placement of your body tells you that your seated at a 90° angle, a chair with a back, uncomfortable.

A groan stabs at your dried out throat; you can’t tell wether you’re that thirsty or your vocal cords are worn out from something you can’t remember. Like screaming.

Was that a footstep or another misplaced vocalization? Any minute you’re alarm will go off or a call will come in and you’ll be at the BAU in half an hour, glaring at Reid-

That’s it. Reid. You remember last storming away after spitting insults at one another. But after that?

What happened next?

Your eyes finally adjust to the dim lighting. All that’s in front of you, the only thing able to penetrate the complete darkness, is a single light bulb.

And it slowly dawns on you that this may be the last source of light you’ll ever see. Because you’re fully awake, and don’t recognize the faint smell of cigarettes in the air.

A sudden feeling of eyes on you engulfs you, chills running down your weakened body. Someone’s here, in this midnight, and their intentions are not good.

You can’t even place the vile feeling when hot air breaths on the back of your neck and true fear jolts you forwards.

And the last thing you remember, is still, walking away from Spencer.

. . .

Spencer had never been to your apartment prior to this day. He never expected to even be invited. But truly, the only thing he truly never, ever, expected, was to be here under these circumstances.

If it wasn’t for the nausea he has been experiencing for the last hour, he could’ve smirked at how much the rooms suited you. They screamed you, even down to the scent of your perfume he could never escape.

JJ had went downstairs to speak to the men and women working the lobby, leaving him and Emily in the middle of a new crime scene.

After a few minor observations were made, silence fell upon the two, both still trying to understand why this happened. How.

Spencer found it a struggle to breathe correctly every other breath, because the dull ache in his chest had only been growing. He shut down completely and still is unable to operate, no words forming.

Your perfume lingers in the air, mocking him, reminding him that he is here and you’re not. He never had been invited here, and yet, here he is. And you’re another missing persons case.

JJ pops through the door, sweet growing on her hairline. “She never came through those doors,” a voice crack, “security camera shows her leaving and never coming back.”

Spencer has a quick flashback of when he was shot in the knee and forced to walk with a cane for some time. When the pain worsened and he had no choice but to buckle, he’d simply put all his body weight on the sturdy stick.

His knees weaken and he absentmindedly reaches for that cane; a bitter reality check hits him that no cane could help the pit he’s in.

“No,” Emily breaths, brushing her hair out of her face, “no, no, that can’t be. She has to be somewhere. She’s not -“ her denial crashes. “It’s been over twelve hours already!”

Spencer never once felt the urge to scream at any of his teammates to shut up. In that moment, his throat clogging up is the only thing that prevents that.

The other two were killed within twelve hours. And you’ve been missing for sixteen.

Sixteen hours that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.

. . .

The team regrouped back at the BAU after examining every crime scene as quickly as they could. Spencer could almost see the hairs falling off of everyone’s bodies.

“What do we know?” Hotch asks, extra stern and extra tense.

“Pinnock got out of a cab right outside of her apartment building at 9 p.m, Tuesday. Never made it in.” Morgan’s knuckles were bleeding and no one knows why.

“Klein was dropped off by a friend a few buildings down from her building and also never made it in,” Rossi supplies, “Wednesday night, around 9 p.m as well.”

“No sign of sexual assault on either bodies and mild wounds,” Garcia’s shaky reassurance is only able to soothe the team for a minute. At least that’s off the table.

Hotch closes his eyes. Spencer wants to do the same but thinks he’d faint. Eighteen hours, the last two of absolute hell.

What was it about her that made him so angry, anyway?

“The best we can do is hope that she’s still alive. She knows how to give them what they want in order to keep them from,” the words die off in Hotch’s throat, “the mild violence shows that torture isn’t whats get him off. Seems like frustration if anything. He could just be getting fed up with them when they’re not complying.”

Spencer speaks for the first time in half an hour, possibly a new record. “And what is that?”

Something in his dark choice of tone causes the team to reel back. Yet they have no answer, either. No one seems too.

Hotch, not taking his eyes off of the doctor, speaks again. “We need to put a statement out. Someone must’ve seen something. Perhaps it will frighten him enough, maybe fuel his ego.”

No one has the energy to argue. Though, Spencer is the first to leave the room.

. . .

“You were always the main goal, you know.”

You haven’t see his face yet. Only felt his breath, sensed his movements, and forcibly listened to his drawling voice.

“Really?” You learned already he doesn’t like snarky remarks. The blood tricking down your chin reminds you. Your words came out as almost flattered, though reluctant to truly believe it.

His chuckle echoes. You gathered you were underground, from the dampness and the lack of any exterior noise. “Indeed. I noticed all three of you at once, but I thought you’d be too difficult.”

You pray he sees the genuine, horrified, confusion. “Three? Three what?”

His quiet shuffling stops. “I thought you were in the FBI. Did you not hear?”

“I didn’t make it into work this morning,” your answer was stupid and he lets out a bark of a laugh at it. You’d been here overnight already.

“Of course you didn’t. You were with me. Shame they had to die, I really didn’t want too. But they didn’t know how to listen. They didn’t understand me like you do.”

Show no emotion. Emit no fear.

“How well do I understand you?” You ask, praying that wasn’t the wrong choice of words. Stinging at the back of your head, mixed with the strong scent of blood, shows he doesn’t mind getting physical.

“You’ve been here twenty hours. They only lasted twelve.”

If you weren’t sat down and tied up, you definitely would have buckled down onto the floor. Twenty hours. You’d only been awake for two. What happened to you in those unaccounted eighteen?

You shudder at the possibilities, fighting the urge to become sick. The team has to know.

“How long are you going to . . how long am I going to stay here?”

His laughter this time is different. It tells you of nightmares God would shun.

“Until you decide to scream like they did.”

. . .

“Early this morning, two bodies were discovered in a downtown alleyway. Jasmine Pinnock and Jacey Klein we’re positively indentified, and we have the right to believe that their deaths are connected. On top of that, late last night, one of our own, Agent Y/N L/N went missing from the same street Pinnock and Klein lived on.”

From behind, Spencer can’t see JJ hold up the copy of the head shot all of them had to take every year or so. He doesn’t need to look at it to remember, however.

He remembers everything down to the finest details. But something about that day forced him to remember every second, and every heart beat. That picture held no exception.

Your eyes were determined and proud. He could sense from the day he met you, that you had no cockiness from the position. There was only one goal of yours and that was to help.

Your lips were up turned in a phony smile; he knew this because your nose scrunches when you truly smile, a fact he wish he could forget but he knew that even if his eidetic memory dissapeared he would never forget it.

The outfit you wore branded his mind. It made his breath run cold that day and it hasn’t reheated since.

It was the day he decided he had to hate you, and he couldn’t ever let himself know why. But he knew he had to make you hate him first.

“You should button that last button. We’re in a professional environment.”

He had been in a conflict about his true guilt over those words everyday since. But now he knew, faced with a crowd of reporters who looked on in sympathy at your face that may never be seen alive again, that he truly, deeply, hated himself for it.

And with every second, the chances that he’d never get to tell you that increased.

He turns and walks out of the frame, slowly enough to not take the attention of off JJ’s words that only might bring you home. He hates himself, never had he ever hated himself so harshly before.

What was it about you that made him so frustrated? He convinced himself everytime he couldn’t stand your prescence however he kept coming back for more. And you were always there to take it.

He didn’t think he’d miss you if you ever left, and here he was, missing the hell out of every part of you. Why?

Emily quickly follows behind him, having been paying close attention to him ever since the dots were connected. She catches him outside, alone, and silent.

“Spencer,” she says after a moment of deliberation. “Hey, what’s gotten into you?”

He keeps his eyes ahead, intensely glaring at the world itself. “One of our teammates is missing and you’re asking me why I’m like this?”

Emily blinks, tilting her head. “I didn’t think you’d care this much.”

There that unnecessary urge comes again, and he bites it away. “Just because we don’t get along doesn’t mean I don’t have basic human decency towards her.”

He should have known he couldn’t keep it hidden from a profiler, much less a friend. Emily’s eyes drag over him, taking in every detail of his stressed stance.

When it clicks, she gasps lightly.

“Spencer . . what is it?”

He never was a confident and cold person, and her simple question is all he takes for his callousness to falter.

His eyes droop down. Pain fills them, hints of tears, as well.

When he breathes in, there’s a split second of peace. But reality crumbles down when he breaths out.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself if she’s dead, Emily. I can hardly function now. I can hardly live with myself when she’s alive and hating me. How can I survive knowing she died hating me?”

. . .

He disappeared soon after explaining to you the horrid details of what led up to these moments. You had a hand print on your cheek, and a bleeding eyebrow, now.

He’d been watching the three of you for three months, waiting, planning, fantasizing. He called you dominant; his dream was to make each of you submissive.

You tried to not let his confessions rattle you enough to forget important details. More specifically, what landed you here.

Your mind stuttered everytime you got to the part where you stormed off from Spencer, because, oh god, the last interaction you had with any of your team was a petty argument.

The last time you saw Spencer, you were glaring at him and him at you.

Would that truly be the last?

You shut your eyes tightly, wincing at the slight spark of pain, but the overwhelming feeling of guilt consumed you mostly.

It didn’t sit right. This wasn’t how you and Spencer were supposed to end. There is no plan on how exactly but that wasn’t it.

It couldn’t be. No, not in hatred and anger. Not when there is still so much to say.

You still. What is there to say?

“You should button that last button. We’re in a professional environment.”

A cold and bitter chuckle leaves your dried out lips and sore throat. All you had felt was hurt when he said that originally, but now, it was a dear memory.

You decided then and there that Spencer disliked you, and it wasn’t easy to pretend like you did, too.

Until it became so difficult you couldn’t even look him in the eye for longer then a few seconds and you were thinking of him while possibly moments from death.

You were tied to him with a red string either of you could easily snip but both parties refused.

You left him after insulting him. And you sat there, wanting nothing more then for him to run up and untie you.

“Your little friends got your name everywhere.”

The sudden return of the man makes you flinch. But his voice isn’t angry, it’s pleased. You smell his burning celebratory cigarette as he nears, small sparks burning up from orange to ash in front of you.

“They seem upset. I would be, too, if you left. But I know you wouldn’t. You’re the good one. Am I right?”

A answer begins and dies in the same spot in your throat. Your mind is concentrated on a certain genius who may or may not hate your guts. But none of it matters, anymore.

You’re answer is delayed and a circular burn crinkles your skin. Again. And again.

. . .

“Hello, this is Agent Jennifer J-“

“JJ?”

The phone almost drops out of her hand. “Y/N?!”

A small, tired smile lines your bleeding lips. “It’s me.”

The team’s head snap towards the blondes like meerkats peeking over their hill. An excess of emotions pools into JJ, who’s hand shake as she speaks again.

“I’m gonna put you on speaker, okay?” You manage a hum, the weakness causing concern to layer and layer.

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Hotch asks standing over the phone. Your eyes shift to the black form a few feet away.

You did something wrong. But since you were so good at first, you get a parting gift.

“I’m alive,” you breathe, unable to come up with the right words when you’re also currently loosing blood and aching.

“Can you tell us where you are?” Hotch tries again, sensing the danger through the phone screen.

“I don’t know. But uh,” though tears don’t show yet, your throat continues to thicken. “He saw your conference. He - he liked it. And uh, I just wanted to let you all know -“

The door opens and you can head it from the line. The voice that distantly is heard repairs and breaks your heart all over again.

“Is that her?!”

“Spencer,” you practically dry-sob out, the pain in his words cracking your soul since there’s nothing else left. He’s been worried. Maybe just as much as you.

Hotch begins to protest as Spencer apparently reaches for the phone, but then, yours is snatched from the shoulder is lays on.

“Let her talk to him. Alone.”

The new voice quiets them immediately. You look at the unknown man in confusion as someone puts you on mute.

“That’s the name you kept mumbling when you were asleep. I think he’d appreciate hearing you die the most.”

How could you predict you could memorize a faceless man so vividly?

The phone is placed back on your ear, resting on your shoulder, right as communication continues.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What happened?” His questions are practical, though, you know you don’t have time for that. Not now. You have one last shot.

“Are you really alone?” He pauses before telling you he is. “You know I . . I don’t know why I’m so relieved you’re on the line.”

Spencer, truly alone, as the team suspected it would be best for both of you. Though, Garcia listened in, not daring to breathe.

Hearing your voice makes his heart clench. He nods, pressing his lips together. “I don’t know why I’m so relieved that you’re okay.”

The present emotion in his words causes you to gently wince and let out a delicate breath. The man still lingers, reminding you that your time is ticking. Speak now or forever be filled with regret.

“Do you hate me, Spencer?”

He expected more of a distress plea for help, or asking him to tell someone else her final words for them. Not this. And he freezes.

“No. No, I never did.”

Y/N manages a dry chuckle, wanting to be able to see his face as he admitted this. “Gotcha.”

Spencer’s able to laugh quickly as well, closing his eyes, trying to picture her smile behind the phone. He has the chance to make amends and he takes it without thinking.

“You know I . . I’ve hated myself since the day you arrived. I didn’t really register it then but . . I can see it so clearly now. I hate that it has to be now.”

“See what?” She cuts through, not caring about who hears the desire coming clearly through. Her heart rate increases from the sickenly slow pace it had dipped down too.

Spencer’s mouth dries. He could feel what he felt but could not explain it. He remembers his job is to also bring her hope, so he tries to explain that to her. “If I could see you right now, I’d be able too show you. So I will eventually, Y/N.”

Tears weld up in her glassy eyes, knowing what she’s about to say to him is going to break him entirely. “He said this is my final goodbye, Spencer, my final wish.”

Her suspicions are confirmed when a small whimper comes from the line.

In the panic that ensues, also comes a new sense of determination. So before she can say goodbye, he speaks, forgetting the logical aspects and using what JJ once told him would tell him everything he once thought he’d never understand.

“I don’t hate you, Y/N. In fact I think I may be infatuated with you and don’t know how to express it so I just do whatever I can to get your attention, good or bad.”

Her droopy eyes widen and gain some sort of glow.

“And I literally have been sick all morning because the last time I saw you I was an asshole and I was so afraid I’d never be able to take that back or tell you how sorry I am.”

Penelope’s eyes glisten, hand covering her mouth.

A small sob tells him his words are clearly heard. Fresh warm tears roll down his smooth skin, his hand thumping the table at an impossible speed.

“Spencer,” she breaths, heart opening up like a book he could read in a second to him, “I - no!”

The line suddenly cuts dead.

JJ’s cell drops out of his hand and clatters onto the floor.

“Wait, Wait, I got the location!”

. . .

segunda parte coming soon!

#criminal minds #doctor reid #mgg #spencer reid #dr reid #criminal minds imagine #reid #cm #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #angst

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

“SHOULD I TRY?”

Gilly Lopez x Reader

Serie Index. Chapter 5.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSFW 'cause maybe has a little of explicit violence.

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @chibsytelford 💘

Author Comments: I hope you all enjoy. The gif isn’t mine.

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 @1-800-imagines @briana-mishell24 @sassymox @whyisgmora @aquamento @sadeyesgf @viviansafizada @samcrobae @jade770 @losolvidad0s ✨ (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

Something unexpected hits your nape hard, making you fall to the floor bumping it with your head. All you feel is pain shaking your body with your eyes filled with tears. You want to fight, you want to get up, but the coup have get you knock out. Your eyelids are falling till the darkness envelops you and the last face you can see is Gilly's.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Your breath is calmed, starting to feel somewhat awake with the throat dried and a metallic taste between your teeth. You cough moving your head slight, opening your eyes slowly. The grief is back shaking your body with little lashes. Everything is blurred, trying to focus your gaze and find out where you are. But everything you can know is that your hands are tied, finding it when you're about to rub your forehead. You look at both wrist, with black esparto ropes wrapping them on a rusted headboard. Wooden walls around you, furniture full of cobwebs. There's also a skylight at the end of the room, on the ceiling, almost covered by a dirty blanket. You don't have to be so smart to know that you're in an attic. But, where?

Your pulse accelerates when you're able to hear some heavy steps going upstairs, opening the door with a screeching sound too annoying for your ears. Then, you see him. Carrying on his lips the same smile that one day made you fall in love loudly. You can't believe this is truly happening. Every single inch of your body contracts in tension, feeling the rage running through your veins when he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. You want to hit him, but then you also figure out that your ankles are tied too.

“This is the part when you beg for your life”. He says with a jocular tone in his voice.

And when he thinks you're about to reply something, you spit his face. Bad move. The man slaps you with the back of his hand, breaking your lower lip by the left side because of the impact his ring makes on it.

“My brother will cut you into pieces to feed his dogs”. You chuckles, 'cause even if you're terrified, you're not going to show him.

“My back is well covered, mi amor”. He laughs loud, shaking his head for a second. “And you're gonna pay for betraying me”.

His right fist goes straight to your temple, provoking you an incessant and painful buzz till you finally lose the conscience again.

(Meanwhile at Mayans Clubhouse)

“We will find her”. Marcos says full of anger, narrowing Gilly's shoulder trying to stay calm.

“Is there any place he could go?”

“We asked to the cops of Tijuana. That son of a bitch has a property close to the east border, between the mountains”. José runs to the crew, with a record on his hand with all the information he received from Mexico.

“Let's fuck up that cabrón”. Angel says throwing away his cigar to get ready to ride his bike.

Gilly went this morning to bring you some breakfast and spend your day off together, but when he came to your house Alex told him that you went to throw the trash and she never came back. Your house-mates thought that you went to Gilly's house. Of course, he suspected that something was wrong, walking next to the trash cubes, finding there your keys. The first thing he did was call Bishop.

━━━━━━ ﹅ ━━━━━━

Mayans and Coyotes aren't stupid. The play smart leaving the bikes almost half a kilometer away, to not call the attention with the roar of his engines. They're all carrying different weapons. Shotguns, smalls hand guns, knives, even an AK-47 Marcus gave them. Dressing with dark clothes and bulletproofs vests, the bikers are more than ready to storm the house. Their steps become slow, hiding between the woods to have a look of the rustic house in the middle of nowhere, with a sport car parking next to the porch. Bishop looks at Marcos, who is rolling his eyes 'cause he knows how foreseeable he can be. That's why they never accepted in Los Coyotes de Tijuana.

Gilly wants to take the first step, but Coco stops him. If he goes inside first, everything could go wrong. Miguel walks bent over towards the windows having a quick look, to indicate that no one's on the first floor. Everything clean.

“Jorge, Tano, back yard” Marcos whispers then. “Mayans, with me”.

“Gilly and Tranq, you stay here, watching if someone else is coming”. Bishop indicates.

“You're gonna have to put a bullet between my eyebro', if you want me to stay here, man”. Gilly says pushing his chest, before getting up to walk outside the woods following his brother-in-law.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

“Despierta, mi amor”.

A cascade of cold water falls into your face and your mouth, making you drown for a while coughing with some difficulties, shaking your head and stirring your whole body. Your temple still hurting, as your wrists and ankles with the ties pressing and burning slightly your skin with every move, trying to get free. You can see Antonio leaving the empty glass of water on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking your chin with two fingers.

“I know you still love me, but your dear Marquitos turned you against me”.

“He did nothen' and I don' love you anymore, you fuckin' bastard”. You spit him again, without worrying about the fact the he can hit you another time. But he laughs, so loud that terrifies you more than the silence.

“You just had to learn how to love me properly”.

“How? Ah? Punching me till almost kill me? You're fuckin' sick, Antonio. And you're gonna pay for all of this”.

“When your new friends find this place, we will be so, so, so far away, mi amor”. He says then, caressing your swollen cheek with the back of his fingers. “And you will also carrying my child”.

“The fuc' are you talking 'bout?” You try hard to not show the tremble that shakes your voice.

“Sh... Relax, mi niña. You're gonna enjoy, for the old times”.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

“House clean!” Coco yells, being reunited with both crews at the hall.

“Shit!” Alejandro curses exhausted.

“Where the fuck he can be?” Taza asks facing Marcos with somewhat calm.

“I don' know... Did you register the car?”

“It's clean too, presidente”. José says shrugging with a gun in his hand.

“Another house, another property?” Bishop asks then desperate, trying to figure it out.

“I think... (Y/N) said something about... a cabin close to Mexico, the night at the hospital”. Jaime is trying to remember your words, not knowing of who could be the owner.

“What about Sancho?” Alejandro turns to Marcos.

“Who's Sancho?” Gilly takes another step closer to the mexican charter.

“His boss. That perro has somewhat like a house in surroundings Mexico DF”.

“How much time?”

“Two and a half. Maybe two hours if we're fast enough”.

“Then run for her fuckin' life!” Gilly shouts, keeping his gun behind his back.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

The tears are falling down running your cheeks and your neck. You can feel the stabbing pain in your low belly because of his bites, dragging his teeth over your skin wetting it. He didn't touch you yet, he's enjoying torturing you and laughing at your terrified gestures and your begs to him for stop. You claimed for help, believing that someone could hear you, but nobody came.

Antonio pulls down your pajama shorts, licking his lips with burning lust inside his orbs. He's ready to enjoy your body, even if you're praying him to not hurt you, trying to gain some time with the hope you can break free somehow as your brother taught you, when you were younger. Maybe dislocating your thumb, so you can strain a hand by the tie. Painful, but successful.

“I could never get tired of your body, mi amor”.

He sighs placing himself between your legs, arching your back when he surrounds your waist with both arms. You can feel how hard is he, turning your stomach, making you want to vomit. You can't understand why you fell in love so loud with him, or why the hell you felt so lost without him the first months in Santo Padre. Now you see it. You were blind. He made you think you never could be good enough for anyone. Neither your family, nor your friends. He absorbed you in a toxic loop, romanticizing every punch, every hit, every drop of spilled blood, every bruise. But then, you met Gilly. You met the love, the self-care, the laughs for nothing, the warm his hugs bring you, the hours in silence looking at each other, the dearly smiles, how good it's feels smell your shirt and find his scent.

And you know it's time to fight. For him. For your family. For your friends. For new life. For you.

For him, it's an unexpected scream full of pain. It hurt much more than you expected, feeling the agony running through your forearm up your elbow, flowing into your neck. But before he can reacts, your fist goes to his nose, with a soft crunch behind your knuckles. You have broken it. You know it's one of his weak points, after take so much cocaine that it made him a hole inside the bridge. That gives you some seconds, enough to take the empty glass of water to broke it against the floor and use a piece to cut the tie wrapping the other wrist. He gets up with the shirt soaked in blood as his lips and neck, and you can see he's furious, but you're not gonna give up pointing him with the glass.

“Cuando el coyote predica, no están seguras las gallinas”. (When the coyote preaches, the chicken aren't safe). You say, spitting every word, listening a high-pitch howl coming closer. You know it well, so he does. “Run, chicken, run”.

As he did two years ago, challenging your gaze with the difference that you're not drowning in your own blood but in pain and tears, he runs away. Antonio knows well what Marcos will do to him. But he doesn't know how much you have changed, and that your brother will be the less important problem. You hear him going downstair, giving him some seconds of advantage. Cutting the other ties, and placing on well your thumb with a crack and a growl, you stretch your numb legs and your arms.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” You can hear your brother's voice breaking the wooden front door, before some shoots and screams of pain.

The prey has been hunted after all this time hiding.

“(Y/N)! Where are you?!” Then you hear Bishop's.

You're trying to go down every stair step, supporting your weight over your palms in the railing. You find yourself crying. But you're not sure why. Pain, horror, sadness, but also happiness, relief, alleviation, run through your veins and your mind making you feel confused.

“Baby! Say something! Where are you?” Gilly is there. Your shaky legs fail, falling apart over the stairs, having a sit whilst your cry gets louder, enough to listen a lot of heavy steps coming to you. “(Y/N)!”

He runs towards you going upstairs, kneeling in front of you before hugging your body between his strongs and warm arms. And the world get paralyzed. You're at home, even if it's not your house, nor even your town. But it's him. It's all about Gilly.

“The kid is here! We foun’ he’!” Coco shouts to the rest, from the beginning of the stairs.

“Give them a moment, now she's safe”. Alejandro says, pushing him away to the living room where they caught Antonio.

You need your time to wrap his back, feeling that your arms doesn't reply to any move tired of being in the same position for more than eighteen hours. He's trying to comfort you with gently caresses all over your head and back, sinking your face on his neck. You know he's blaming himself about what you said, about that you were scared that he could find you if the Coyotes traveled to Santo Padre. But at least, you caught him and he's gonna pay for all the pain he provoked you.

“Are you hurt?” He asks almost in a whisper, pulling you some inches away inspecting your face, with the desperation consuming his soul.

“I love you”. You answers, still drowning in your own salty tears, licking your lips. He laughs bittersweet, before helping you to get up, raising you on his arms.

“You’re safe now, baby”. He mutter in your ear, resting your face on his chest.

“She will do it”. Marcos talks whilst Alejandro is nodding drawing a silver dagger, when the Mayan comes to the living room supporting you.

No one says nothing, while Gilly is helping you to put yourself on your feet. They’re kinda sleepy, but without letting go one of his hands, you raise the free one to the knife with a cross engraved on it. The both prospect of the charters are holding Antonio’s arms, kneeling above the wooden floor with his gaze filled by wrath.

“Listen, if you don’t wanna do’et…” Bishop walks towards you, twisting his face, so only you can hear him.

“This is my job”. You deny with a scratchy tone in your voice. “This is what I used to do, and this is what I’m gonna do”.

Setting yourself free, you bend next to the man who tried to ruin your life and almost killed you. There’s no expression on your countenance, but he’s starting to look scared. Ripping off his shirt, pulling away both apertures and gently sticking the tip of the sharp knife into his chest, enough to draw a shallow slit to write the name of your charter on it. Yes, maybe you’re enjoying every shout wrapped in grief, while Antonio stirs under the grip. Mayans must be freaking out behind you, because your family have seen you so many times dealing with this kind of situations that they don’t even get surprised.

“You wi—”

“I will nothen’!” You yell at him, hitting his mouth with your left elbow to make him shut up. “I told you that night, when the blood collected in my throat. One day I would find you and I would make you pay for every tear, for every bruise, for every time you raped me, for every time you hit me for no reason. And now, here comes judgment day, pinche perro”.

You’re feeling strong than never, maybe because of the adrenaline invading every inch of your anatomy, dragging every word you spit above your tongue. And his blood splashes your face, your neck and your shirt, when the dagger blade pierces his skin ripping it completely. A guttural growl comes out from his throat when your hand falls down holding the knife, cutting his chest till you reach the belt on his jeans. The blood bathes the carpet, taking away his last breaths while the prospect letting him go, making Antonio drop half dead.

┅┅ ┅ ┅ ┅┅

Your back is against the wall, sitting on one of the bed of the Mayans clubhouse, in the last room. You have been alone for the past three hours, after convincing your brother to come back to Tijuana. He wasn’t in accordance with your decision, but the fault wasn’t theirs. And you were calm because of that man was already dead. Although your mind was remembering everything that happened once and again, you knew that night you could finally sleep peaceful.

Bishop comes to the room, closing the door after his steps, sitting on the edge of the bed with some distance between both. He isn’t the Rey de los Mayas because of his age, but because of his intelligence. And you played smart when you told him you never were an active member. But you don’t need it, if you're somekind of nomad or hired assassin.

“You ok?”

You nod slightly, raising your eyes at him.

“So… That was your job, rai’?”

You nod again. No words needed.

“Was it one of the reasons why he did all that to you?”

“He did it ‘cause my brother never wanted him to be part of Los Coyotes. Taking me to hell and teaching me that it was the only life I could have, it was the way to be close to them”.

Bishop puts his gaze away, having a deep breath by his nose, to let go the air by his lips.

“Gilly blames himself”.

“I know, but it’s not his fault, nor yours, nor anyone. I allowed Antonio to do it, it’s only because of me”.

“He wanna see ya’”.

You nod a third time, in silence, letting know that you want to see him too. The president gets up of his seat, walking towards the door to let him cross it, leaving you two alone. He doesn’t know what say to make you feel better, or to make you feel safe. Without knowing, that you are already feeling this way. This was like another job, with the difference that you killed the man who pushed you to the limit of your capacities. Your knees are placed against your chest, surrounding them with both arms, when he takes the same seat Bishop had. His head down, his forearms supported on his lap and both hands on his nape. Gilly sets free a heavy snort with closed eyes, without moving an inch when you hug him laying your chest on his back, surrounding his neck.

“I’m so sorry ‘you have to see me doin’et”. You whisper leaving some kisses on his head. “I’m so sorry for everything that happened in the last weeks. I just… turned your world upside down”.

“You stabilized it”. He replies shaking his chin, turning to look at you. “I should listened you, and I di—”.

“Take me home, Gilly”. You ask him, making the reference to his house and the safe-place you two built there.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc #gilly lopez x reader #gilly lopez #gilly lopez imagine

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