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eudaimonia111 · 2 months

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Meeting Him | Simon Bellamy x GN! Reader

Summary: Reminiscing over reader's progression of a relationship with Simon.

Warnings: Swearing, staring, mutual pinning, kissing, cuddling, basically a bunch of fluff.

Words: 1,423

AN: This is my first ever fanfiction so sorry if it's rough or needs any work. I hope you enjoy :)

Please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work. Thank you.

________________________

When I started my community service, I was kinda pissed, to say the least.

Tires strain to a stop as a silver car stops at the curb in front of a boring gray community building. A shoe creeps out of the vehicle and onto the asphalt with a slight pitter-patter. The car's shining doors meet the frame with a resounding slam.

Dark semi-circles reside underneath Y/n’s eyes, which roll after the conversation with the person driving. The tires give a loud screeeeech, and the car skids down the drop-off area and out of the parking lot.

The person stumbles up the scratchy concrete and yanks the cold metal handle to the building open with their fist.

The building is empty and unremarkable. Some bland colors through the chilly halls include a dull orange of uncomfortable chairs, printed “motivational” posters hanging up on the white walls as if anyone gave a shit about the people there, and not to mention the washed-out unflattering lighting the whole building has.

After changing into the paper-like orange jumpsuit, they go outside and join the other six delinquents.

I had just gotten there, and this kid with big, bright blue eyes could not keep staring at me.

They sit, crisscrossed on the concrete outside, beside a big reflective pond. A wooden paintbrush in their hand, leisurely dragging the coated bristles along the withered, metal bench.

Y/n’s brain was practically melting from the constant burn of Simon's gaze on the side of their head.

The vibrant blue eyes glance up again from their occupied place of the covered graffiti on the park bench.

Unlike the last fifteen times, a sigh comes from the now-opened mouth of the observee. Their head swiftly turns, the expression of their face less than enthusiastic. Lips planted in a firm line and eyes, although a little more energized than that morning, still tired. This time more than just physically.

The anxiety-ridden boy quickly moves his eyes back to the bench and the task at hand, as if he had never been gazing at the interesting person at all. Feeling the weight of the person’s gaze, he swallows the saliva in his mouth in a big gulp, trying to breathe with even controlled breaths.

After Y/n looks off to their chore once more, Simon takes a second to smooth out the hair on his forehead with a rigid aggressive hand, a nervous tick of his.

Even though I felt slightly bad for him because of Nathans instigating comments, I still felt that he was a bit weird but could kind of tolerate him.

That was, until we were all slightly having fun.

Y/n was carrying a chair over to its designated place as Nathan was rambling on and on about his step dad the man who lives with his mom.

Words flew out of the Irish boy's mouth for too long to count. The second he slowed down to a stop and they would think it was finally over, he would start back up again. But it’s better than the stuffy silence of the empty, echoey, hallways.

Placing down the plastic of a burnt orange chair, they look over and see Nathan's arm around Simon, his warm hand resting on the curve of the shorter man's shoulder.

A passerby would have guessed them to be great friends. They would most definitely pull a displeased face at the language that was spewing from their mouths though.

“Cock, anus, ballsack. Yeah?” The green-eyed guy asked, referencing the pixels that formed a raunchy picture on his flip phone.

Simons's mouth pulled up at the corners and created indents on the sides of his face. His ears lifted slightly and his full cheeks were rounded with the movement. His eyes were shiny and glistened with the happiness of being included and regarded as a friend.

Almost forgetting to let go of the chair, Y/n gazed at the boy with a twinkle in their eyes.

Admiring his boyish, crooked smile, the breath was stolen from their lungs. From his rosy cheeks to plump, delicate lips, Y/n had no power to not get sucked into the display of joy.

They were almost completely lost in the floaty space of their mind until Simons's icy blue eyes drifted over to them, this time Y/n being the one caught staring.

They cleared their throat and ducked their head, continuing to work, pretending their cheeks don't feel like they're burning. This just made his smile brighter than it already had been.

To say I tolerated him was an understatement.

Then, there had been this weird stage of us admiring each other from afar, too scared or unsure of ourselves to do anything about it.

After being caught so many times staring, a person over time, doesn't care to look away anymore.

There is no embarrassment, that having died out a long time ago. Instead, one continues to openly gaze at the person, hoping that they will be there forever, just to examine the details of that person's face.

Nathan would loudly argue at the pair that they were giving each other “fuck me eyes”, but instead, they were simply admiring the beauty of the other.

Light blue eyes swept across Y/n's face. Taking in all the details and perfectly placed imperfections. The indented pores or lightly shaded wrinkles. Light rays sprinkled past the clouds and rained down on their body.

If someone had asked him at that moment, he would have uttered truthfully that they looked like an angel. Angelic. That's the only word that would come to his head.

A gust of air brushed past them on the windy day on top of the roof of the community service building.

The eyelashes of Y/n fluttered as they opened their eyes and immediately darted them in Simon's direction as if hearing his thoughts.

He didn’t blush this time. Didn’t become embarrassed anymore. No anxious assumptions even crossed his mind. Instead, he continued to stare.

Y/n smiled lightly, taking the staring as a compliment. No inkling of judgment tracing their kind features.

All of a sudden, the button-up collar of Simons's uncomfortable orange jumpsuit seemed a little too tight.

I eventually got fed up with it.

The rubber of Converse tapping away on the linoleum floor is what caught Simon's attention. Glancing up with his beautiful blue eyes, he sees Y/n, the person he had been crushing on, determinedly strutting in his direction. Hair that made up his eyebrows came together in a furrow, a line indenting his skin in between them.

Y/n stopped in front of him, chest puffed out in faux confidence. “Go on a date with me.” Came from their mouth. It wasn’t a question. It was a demand.

Simon openly gazed up at them from his sitting position. His mouth opened, jaw dropping in shock at the situation in front of him. “Y- yes.” He uttered once his brain caught up with his mouth, blinking way more than necessary.. “Good.”

Y/n seemed to lose their mojo, figure relaxing from their rigid posture, and handed him their phone, waiting for him to put in his number. Simons is now the one who straightens up and accepts the piece of metal, quickly pressing digits into it with the pads of his fingers.

The time I first started my community service, I was annoyed, to say the least. But I’m glad it happened. I had the privilege of meeting him.

I roll over in the soft blankets, scooting closer to the figure radiating warmth. Blankets jostle with my tired but relaxed movements. The heavy weight of his arm over my waist is comforting as I nuzzle into the side of his neck. I pucker my lips and leave a sloppy, chaste, sleep-filled kiss there.

The limbs caging me tug me impossibly closer to the muscly body. “I love you, darling.” His voice is deep with sleep as he whispers the affection in my ear.

I run my hand underneath his shirt and on the silky soft skin of his waist before feeling around the curve of his back, resting it there. “I love you too, baby,” I utter out of my scratchy throat. “Now go back to bed, it's too early,” I groan. A puff of air against my shoulder lets me know he’s laughing.

I place one more kiss on the warm skin in front of my face before I let the peaceful darkness of sleep overtake me once again.

AN: Hi everyone! Thank you so much if you read all of that. I wanted to create this because Simon fics are so scarce. If you like it please let me know or reblog it or something, it would mean the absolute world to me. Any and all tips for my writing are greatly appreciated.

#x reader #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #fluff #misfits #simon bellamy #simon bellamy x reader #simon bellamy x y/n #first fanfic #fanfic

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pritchardautobody · 3 months

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jcpaving · 3 months

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love4buckybarnes · 3 years

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PROMISES

Summary: Bucky and Y/N we’re married and love. But differences had set them apart. A promise, one of many they had made, was broken, threatening the love between them.

Bucky Barnes x Reader. Warnings: car accident, minor injuries, mention of pregnancy complications, and angst. Happy fluff ending.

A/N: Let me know what you think of this one. The title is a bit questionable so if you have one that you’d like to share, I’ll credit you :).

They were both madly in love. When they first saw each other, the world stood still. Cheesy, but it was true. At least that’s what they would tell everybody of how they met. Their romance story is one you would read from a book or see in a movie. Bucky knew Y/N was the one, so he got on one knee and asked her to marry him. The day he proposed and when they made their vows and promises, were the most memorable moments together. Ones they could never forget.

Time went by and what appeared like the perfect happy couple turned upside down. Around family and friends, they put on a fake persona. Behind closed doors, the endless fighting and tension caused a rift between them. It started when they were trying for a family. Sometimes things aren’t just handed out freely to everyone. Y/N experienced fertility issues. It was stressful for the both of them. Most fights were over something small which would blow up out of proportion. Some nights they made up, and some nights, one would end up on the couch. Sometimes they wondered if they should give up.

Tonight was supposed to be important. Y/N had all of it planned out for the special occasion. She made reservations at their favorite restaurant. Bucky promised he would be there. Despite everything, she still loved him all the same. She wondered if he still loved her .

She sat there alone. The stares and looks of the people around her was unsettling and made her embarrassed. Y/N had been all dressed up and makeup done. Eventually, she had enough of waiting and stormed out.

The door to their apartment swung open. Bucky has been sitting at the table with his face scrunched up in concentration. He couldn’t even bother to look up.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Y/N spat out each name, crossing her arms. She was furious.

Bucky glanced up. “Hi,” he said quickly, before returning his attention to the computer in front of him.

This made her tick even more. She marched over to where he sat and slammed the laptop shut.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” Bucky exclaimed, standing up. The chair fell backwards to the floor with a loud bang. “Why would you do that? I didn’t save what I was working on.”

“I don’t care,” she snapped. “Do you remember where you were supposed to be tonight?”

Bucky thought for a minute. After remembering and realized his mistake, he cursed. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

She stepped closer to his face. “You promised you were going to be there.”

“Sam needed me to work on this mission. It’s important. I got wrapped up in it.”

“So this was more important than what we had planned?”

“No, I did not say that. Now you’re just putting words in my mouth,” he fought back.

“Gosh, why can’t you just try to put in a little more effort?” She hadn’t noticed the tears rolling down her face.

“Me try? How about you?” he scoffed, his eyes narrowing. “You have everything to do with this chaos of whatever this is just as much as I do. In fact, it’s all you. It’s all because of you!”

Y/N felt like someone cut into her chest with a blade and ripped her heart out. She always thought it was her fault. And now he blamed her, too. This has been the last straw. “Oh wow, well, thanks for the clarification I needed to know.”

“Where are you going?” he asked in a frantic tone when she headed towards the door.

She paused in her tracks to answer him. “I need to go. I can’t be here. Especially knowing what you really think of me.”

Bucky winced at her words and flinched at the loud thud she made when she left. The palm of his hand brushed over his face. He regretted what he said. He never blamed her. Whether she knew it or not, his love for her has been the same since they have met.

Thunder rumbled, and lightning dashed across the dreary night sky. Y/N stepped out into the pouring rain. She reached the car parked across the street. Before she could get in, Bucky stepped in front of her, blocking her from going any further. He placed his hands on her shoulders.

“Please don’t go,” Bucky begged. “I’m sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. I love you.”

Y/N avoided his eyes and yanked away from his grasp. She was so angry, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. “Yeah well, you have a funny way of showing it.” She got in, locking the door. He knocked on the window. Ignoring him, she drove off. Her mind swirled and her eyes hazy with tears. She wasn’t sure when she would come back, or if she would return at all.

Bucky saw it happen right in front of him. He watched her drive off. Turning around to go inside to get out of the rain, he heard the tires from afar screech against the concrete. He looked back just in time to see the vehicle swerving. The slippery road caused the car to skid across the road. It hit a curb, tumbled over and rolled a few feet away.

He could hear his heart pound wildly in his ears, stomach turned in knots. He felt as if his airway were being constricted. Bucky didn’t feel his legs carry him over there, not caring he was soaking wet. All he cared about was her.

Darkness spotted her vision. A blurry figure appeared in front of her. Even through fogged vision, she recognized who it was.

“Baby?” Bucky croaked out, his voice soft, trying to keep himself calm. Inside, he was all but calm. He had to keep the sheer panic under control so he could help her. “Stay with me, okay? I’m going to pull you out.”

“Bucky?” she hissed out in pain.

“I’m here, Doll,” he said reassuringly.

Her eyes fluttered. A loud snap in her ear stirred her back to consciousness.

“Don’t close your eyes, love,” he pleaded. “Just focus on me, okay? Keep them on me.” He watched her fight herself from passing out. His hand reached in to unbuckle the seatbelt that held her to the seat. With ease, he unhinged the door, that was already hanging off the rest of the way. He carefully maneuvered Y/N from the car and set her down on the ground. He trembled as he dialed 911.

When he looked back down, she was unconscious. Blood seeped from the gash on her forehead. He slapped gently on her cheeks to get her to wake up, but she was out cold. Bucky felt like his whole world was shutting down. He couldn’t contain the sobs escaping his throat. He rarely cried. He’s only ever shed tears a couple of times in front of her. Once when they first said I love you and when they said their vows.

Guilt devoured his entire being. The whole time they’ve been together since being married, had been spent with fighting instead of loving each other. All he ever truly wanted was for the both of them to be happy. But he let the blaze consume them.

Hearing sirens wailing in the distance, relief released from Bucky. Flashes of bright blue lights got closer, and soon the EMTs were there to help. They placed a brace to keep her head and neck supported in case there was an injury before putting her on the stretcher. For Bucky, it was all in slow motion. He blocked out the EMT asking him questions, jumping into the back of the ambulance.

At the hospital, he tried following her into the emergency room, but wasn’t allowed to. He paced around outside. His foot tapped on the tile uncontrollably, the nerves wracking his mind. He held his head between his knees to keep himself from having a panic attack.

Couple of hours later, the nurse stepped out to talk to him. “James?” she called out.

He jumped up hearing his name. His jaw clenched as he waited to hear what she had to say.

“Your wife is going to be fine. She has a concussion, a few stitches, and a fracture in her collarbone ,” she started to say. He let out the deep breath he has been holding in. “The baby is also fine.”

Bucky whipped his head up, confused. “The what?!”

“Oh, maybe you didn’t know, but she’s pregnant,” the nurse clarified. “Luckily, the baby doesn’t have a scratch.”

Now he understood. Why it was so important to be there at the restaurant, and why she was so upset about it. The guilt he felt engulfed him more. He needed to figure out how to make it up to her. Bucky swore to himself he would never disappoint her again and to keep all the promises he makes.

Annoying constant beep sounds lulled Y/N out of her sleep. Vivid white blinded her vision as she came to. She groaned at the pounding pain in her head. Her fingers twitched, gripping the sheets. Eyes opened to the ivory room. Her face scrunched up, trying to remember what happened and where she was.

A snore next to her got her attention. Bucky slept in a chair beside her hospital bed, waiting for her to wake up.

“Bucky,” she rasped out, her throat scratchy.

Bucky stirred. When he realized she was conscious, he sprung awake. He called for the nurse to check her over, making sure everything was fine. When she left, he sat back down, taking one of Y/N’s hands in one of his, pressing it to his lips.

“Oh, baby,” he said, ever so softly. He brushed the strands from her face and tucked it behind her ears. “Oh, thank god you’re awake.” Tears brimmed, and he didn’t care, letting them fall. His lips curved into a smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes. He gently left kisses on her cheeks. Calloused thumb brushed the delicate skin.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“You got in an accident,” he explained. “Just a concussion, broken collarbone, and a few scratches. And you might be achy from the whiplash.”

Y/N shot up out of bed in dismay, only to be pinned back down.

“Hey, no, you need to stay in bed and rest,” Bucky ordered her, firmly keeping her from moving.

“But the bab-,” she began, but Bucky cut her off.

“I know,” he said sadly, interrupting her. “I know you’re pregnant. The baby is fine, love.”

Y/N felt relieved. “How did you find out?”

The small smile on his face dropped. “When they x-rayed you to check for injuries, they found out you were pregnant.” His lip trembled as he cried harder. “I’m so sorry. That’s what you wanted to tell me. That’s why you wanted me to be there. I should have kept my promise and showed up. If I had, you wouldn’t be here.”

Y/N knew he was being true to his word. She reached up to wipe the tears from under his eyes. He sighed, leaning in to her touch he missed. “I’m sorry too. I was so excited to tell you. Things haven’t been easy for either of us. I couldn’t wait to tell you.”

He shook his head, beating himself. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You have nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault. None of it is. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. From now on, no more fighting. I just want to be us again.”

“‘I agree, Bucky,” she agreed. “I’m tired of fighting too. You still love me right?”

“Yes of course I still love you,” he said, in disbelief. “I love you so much. I could never stop loving you. And when you left, I was so ashamed. Then I witnessed the wreck. I thought I was going to lose you for good. And now I’m going to be a father. You’re going to be a mother.”

Y/N started to cry too. He kissed away the tears leaking down her face. “We’re going to be what we have always wanted. A family. You won’t lose me. I love you.” She grew weak with exhaustion.

“Sleep, darling,” he whispered in her ear. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Before he could step aside, she took his hand to stop him. “Lay with me?” she begged.

He smiled, with the usual twinkle in his eyes that she adored. “Of course.”

She scooted over, making room for him. Bucky laid down next to her. Not wanting to hurt her anymore, he cautiously enveloped her in his arms. For once in forever, they both felt harmony. All the worries and differences lost in the past. They knew the rift between them was no longer. What seemed like the perfect couple hidden under the fire, still was. And they both knew their love for each other was now stronger than ever.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #imagines #avengers #marvel #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier #winter solider imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky fanfic

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coconut-cluster · 3 years

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hello folks and welcome to the “Aaron is a prick but hey at least Logan and Janus actually make up after being dysfunctional gay messes for two weeks straight” fic. this is a direct follow-up to the wall pin, which you can read here on tumblr or here on AO3.

(also find the uni au masterlist here, the AO3 here, and if u wanna buy me a kofi you can do that here. now enjoy Logan being a mess for like 2500 words)

Logan is sitting alone in the library, and though he’s always a sucker for some peace and quiet, it’s just kind of pathetic at this point.

Given, sitting alone isn’t a new thing for him. Most of his high school experience was spent sitting by himself - in the cafeteria during lunch, in class during group work (which was always, inevitably, solo work for him), in the bathroom stall after school while he waited for the last bus to pull out so he could walk home without another shove to the concrete. He sat alone at the dinner table most nights, knowing his parents wouldn’t be home until he was already asleep. Even now, with all those tribulations largely behind him, he sits by himself in classes and on trains and park benches, accrues peace and patience in solace. He is used to sitting alone.

The issue lies more in the fact that he should not be sitting alone here, now, in this... general scenario. And it’s really starting to get on his nerves.

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Janus had shown up to their study sessions. Two weeks of excuses and absence and a general lack of engagement with Logan, and oy vey, Logan knows it’s his fault, but at this point, he’s fairly certain he’d take an awkward study session for two over drowning his thoughts in black coffee in the sociology section of the campus library every day.

(He’s even brought earbuds this time to try and curb the frenzy in his head - it’s certainly easier to sit in one’s own prolonged company if there’s something else to occupy the mind, something other than the shuffling footsteps and hushed voices of the other patrons - but all that’s gotten him so far is a frustrated gay crisis with a Regina Spektor soundtrack. Better than having a crisis in complete silence, he supposes.)

Janus’ chair is empty across from him. He knows this, not only because Janus has not shown up to fill it, but because Logan’s eyes flit to it every few minutes, as if checking to make sure it is still, in fact, empty. (Note to self, he huffs inwardly after the umpteenth glance: it is still, in fact, empty.) The first few days this happened - this empty chair situation, that is - he waited patiently, expecting Janus to show up late, as he was occasionally prone to do. He didn’t. He texted excuses instead; an extra shift here, a project for another class there. They didn’t seem like excuses at first, but at this point... well, Logan can be a fool sometimes (especially, it would seem, for smooth-talking philosophy students with pretty eyes). But he is not an idiot.

Janus is clearly avoiding him, so he’s sat alone at their table. For two weeks.

He is very done with sitting alone.

The snap of his books being slammed shut attract a good few looks from other patrons and the librarian, but Logan’s earbuds are still in, and frankly, he has bigger frustrations to ignore. (He still sends a polite, albeit tight smile to his favorite librarian as he leaves.) He’s down the stairs and out of the building within a minute, messenger bag thumping against his leg and coat slung carelessly over his arm despite the chill as he stalks to his car, as if the beat-up Dodge Stratus is going solve all his problems as soon as he gets in.

He rips his earbuds out as he starts his car, sitting for a moment in silence, a near-white-knuckled grip on his steering wheel. He’s not sure what he’s angry at, exactly. Janus, maybe, and the way Logan feels he can never truly read what’s hiding behind that constant smirk. Maybe himself, tired of the way he prides himself so foolishly on a logical demeanor that can’t last through a wink or a tug to his tie, a hand on his waist, or the way he keeps remembering the disappointed flicker in Janus’ eyes when he pulled away in the library two weeks ago and the way he’s been overanalyzing it since. Maybe both. Maybe something more than he can name. Whichever it is, it eats away inside him, a lit fuse rapidly approaching something explosive-

Someone honks at him, waiting for his parking spot, and it’s the only thing that snaps him out of his thoughts. (Stupid thoughts.)

The drive home is quiet, no music or audiobook or passenger to fill his head. His fingers are numb against the steering wheel - he really should have put his coat and gloves on before he got outside, but there was a sort of momentum just pushing him forward, out of the library and away from that godforsaken table - and it’s too dry out for him to be biting his lip as much as he has been, chapped as it is. Force of habit.

It’s a habit Janus has too, he’s noticed; he has an infuriating tendency to do it when he’s proud of himself, though, like he’s trying to hold back a smile, saving it for some unspecified victory. The thought brings Logan’s memory back to the day in the library - Janus’ back pressed to the bookcase and a smirk barely suppressed on his lips, that glint in his eyes that seemed to dare Logan to move forward. The way it almost worked. Logan’s hands curl tighter around his steering wheel, because he really wanted to move forward. Maybe Janus had actually wanted him to, too.

Logan focuses on the pleather of the steering wheel digging into his palms. This train of thought - the one he’s returned to relentlessly for the past two weeks, always back to Janus’ smirk and the frown that came after - doesn’t help anything. It just serves to make him frustrated all over again, and... confused, maybe. Lost. Annoyed with himself and Janus and everything in between.

He takes a deep breath, redirects his thoughts to the patches of ice staining the road instead of mismatched eyes and sharp canines and lingering smirks. If it’s inevitable to brood over this again, he prefers it not cause a car wreck.

When he finally arrives at his apartment building - free of car wrecks, but unfortunately still encumbered by... well, everything else - he heads straight for the stairs, hands stuffed into his pockets in the hopes of regaining some kind of feeling in his fingers before he has to unlock his door. (He really should have put his gloves on.)

And as expected, unlocking his apartment door is another minute hassle that simply adds to the building frustrations of the day. He is in no rational state of mind to be dealing with all this. Even in his ire, though, he huffs a laugh at the thought of him having a breakdown about a door lock in the middle of the hallway. Seems par for the course lately, he supposes.

He finally gets the door unlocked - no breakdown fated just yet - and shoulders it open, shedding his bag and coat as soon as he steps inside. The apartment is quiet, just like the library was, just like the snow-covered city was. The one time in his life he would give anything to have a noisy environment, everything seems to have fallen quiet. Maybe his thoughts are just louder than usual.

It seems more possible by the minute, especially as he simply stands idle in the living room. There’s an odd unbalance in being home so early in the day, he realizes. It’s not as if he spends every possible moment at the library during the week, but he’s certainly established a routine by now, and breaking it - solely out of frustration, no less - makes him... antsy. He stands in the middle of the room for a minute, unsure, tugging at his watch strap.

(He has the urge, small and sudden, to text Janus. He’s not even sure what he’d say if he did - “Hello Peters, sorry I almost kissed you two weeks ago and then left without explanation,” maybe. “I just realized I had feelings and panicked immediately thereafter. Want to get coffee?” - but he pushes the thought back as quickly as it comes, so it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.)

“Oh, Lo!” He’s snapped out of his thoughts (yet again - he really needs to get ahold of himself) as Patton emerges from the hallway with a stack of notebooks and boxes of art supplies, his laptop balanced precariously on top. He tries to offer a wave that nearly sends it all tumbling. “You’re home early! How was your day?”

Logan sighs and crosses the room, taking his roommate’s laptop from the top of the stack to set it down on the coffee table for him. Patton sends him a grateful smile. “It was fine,” he replies with a tense smile in return, which drops as soon as Patton focuses once more on the hazardous pile in his arms.

“Got a lot of work to do, I’m guessing?” Logan blinks at him. “‘Cause you’re home early, I mean. But I guess you usually do your work at the library- was it closed today? I heard they might be doing renovations on campus soon,” Patton raises his eyebrows like it’s exciting news, finally setting his notebooks and boxes on the couch and rooting around in them for something particular, “although I’m not sure the library is getting renovated as part of that, since they’ll want to preserve some of the old architecture, I think. That’s what Remus was saying earlier when we talked about it-”

“I just needed a change of scenery.” Noise is good right now, but if he has to talk about the library or campus or anything could lead back, somehow, to Janus, he’s going to have that breakdown after all.

Patton pauses, eyebrows furrowed. “From the library?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” He stares at Logan for a second more, something quizzical in his eyes, before he just nods, more to himself than his roommate. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You do spend a lot of time there.”

He sits down and starts flipping open his notebooks, getting to work on some project without another word about the library. “Tell me when you’re hungry and we can make dinner,” he adds flippantly as Logan starts to turn. “I saw a cool recipe earlier I think you’ll like.”

Logan just nods, despite Patton not facing him to see it. He heads straight to the kitchen, grabs a random K-cup from the little stand they’re tucked into and shoves it into the coffee machine. He’d have stopped at the local coffee shop on his way home instead of this, but Janus picked up an extra shift today - assuming his excuse for the day is truthful - and Logan’s far from eager for that kind of exchange. He snaps the lid of the coffee machine shut a little harder than necessary.

If Patton notices his mood, he says nothing. He hasn’t said anything for the past two weeks about the... situation with Janus. Logan knows he’s figured out something is wrong, mostly from how carefully he’s avoided mentioning Janus or their study sessions since Logan came home early that day two weeks ago, snappy and otherwise silent - and Patton’s courtesy, while appreciated, just serves to remind Logan how much of an absolute child he’s being about the whole thing. His best friend shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells around him just because a boy is ignoring him. (Petulant still, a small voice in his brain blames it on Janus for ignoring him in the first place.)

The coffee machine makes that horrible gurgle that means it’s finished and knocks him out of his thoughts at last. He takes his cup, ignoring the little container of sugar next to the machine and heading directly to his room instead. Maybe black coffee can knock some sense into him at last. (That, or it will buzz him enough to actually get some work done. A win-win in his book.)

His desk is, for once, a mess when he goes to sit down at it. It’s not unmanageable - just some notebooks splayed out, pens left astray here and there - but as he goes to straighten things up, his eye catches on what seems like trash at first. Upon further inspection, he finds it’s a coffee cup sleeve from the cafe. On one side is the coffee shop logo; on the other, in neat cursive and with a little heart doodled beside it, is Oli.

For a moment, he’s still. The sleeve is almost tucked away, nestled gently between a stack of post-it notes and a box of paperclips, as if he’d wanted to keep it in place. Of course he remembers its origin - the day he was sick, when Janus had stopped by the apartment with tea (and the message to get a better immune system, ever the sentimentalist).

...This whole thing is his fault. He’s well aware of that. If he hadn’t instigated Janus that day in the library, entertained his game, he would never have been in the position to pull away and leave in a rush in the first place. He’d never have been close enough to consider - to seriously consider - kissing him. At the very least, he wouldn’t have faced his feelings for a while otherwise. He’s the reason Janus has been making excuses, and if Logan’s being honest, he doesn’t blame him. But that doesn’t stop him from wanting to fix it.

It also doesn’t mean he knows how to fix it.

So here, now, he just resorts to what he does best: he distracts himself.

He gets to work on the pile of projects and papers he has due, diligent and unceasing, dispelling any thought that strays from the work before him and filling his head with the work alone. And for a bit, that works. He gets through a paper for his neuroscience class, the remainder of his lab report for Organic Chemistry, and the various busywork due in his electives, all without any substantial thought of Janus. For a while, and for the first time in two weeks, Logan feels as if he’s actually got some sense about him, some scraps of control in his desperate hold.

But all good things must come to end eventually. He’s disgruntled to find ‘eventually’ is, apparently, only a couple hours.

The last assignment he needs to get done is a presentation for his Human Memory course. Normally, he’d already have it done, but it’s a partner project, and his partner has been conveniently missing from their study sessions for two weeks.

Still, there are only a few things he needs to work with Janus on for this presentation, a couple clarifying questions to ask, and then he’s good to finish his part by himself. It’s due in a few days; he could just wait until they’re in class tomorrow, awkward as it may be to talk face-to-face for the first time in a while.

Or he could call him.

He could call him, get the answers immediately, finish his part now and push it from his mind right after. He could call him and maybe - just maybe - satiate this unrelenting urge inside him. He could call him, impetuous, unnecessary, indulgent as it would be.

He picks up his phone and clicks Janus’ contact.

His finger hovers over the phone icon, a moment of hesitation that makes him feel foolish, even though he’s alone in his room with no one to witness it. After a minute and a spurring countdown from three, he clicks the button and holds the phone to his ear.

The rings play through his head as he fiddles with the page of his notebook, folding the edge back and forth and tearing off the little triangle it creates, rolling it up between his fingertips. He ignores, duly and in vain, the racing of his heart - he’s never had a problem with phone calls, but now there’s a nervous thrum in his chest as he waits. It’s still ringing.

He leans back in his chair; he can hear Patton moving around the kitchen, the clatter of pans and the upbeat melody he’s singing along to, and Logan can almost picture his horrible dance moves (not that Logan could do much better). It makes him smile, for just a second. Still ringing.

He’s about to hang up when finally - finally, and his heart does something plainly stupid in his chest - Janus picks up.

“Logan!” a bright voice greets, and it takes Logan approximately one second to realize it’s not Janus. Not Janus, but... familiar. Vaguely. “Long time no talk, buddy!”

He takes a second to remark to himself how stupid that phrase is before alarms blare in his head. Familiar voice, not Janus, but Janus never lets anyone touch his phone, so “Who is this?”

“Who is this?” the voice repeats, incredulous. It’s so familiar- Logan finds himself frowning at the wall, waiting for an introduction or his brain to connect the dots, whichever comes first. Whichever comes quickest. “I thought I made a good impression,” the voice pouts, slightly muffled, like they’re speaking to someone else instead of into the phone. There’s still no sound from Janus, and the beating in Logan’s chest turns from nervous to something dreadful.

...did they call Logan ‘buddy’?

It’s a ridiculous nickname, but it’s as familiar as the voice- familiar in the voice. He tries to think back quickly. Buddy, buddy, annoying voice, allegedly good impression...

The only thing that comes up in his head are flashes of a party, people bumping into him and music playing too loud and Roman and Remus assuring him they’ll all head out soon. Some frat party, if he remembers correctly, that Janus was as annoyed at attending as Logan was. Logan just disliked parties in general; Janus, though, he spent the night in a corner, locked in conversation with Logan or Remus or Patton, determined to avoid that ex of his-

Oh.

Oh, good Lord.

#loceit #uni au #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #lexi writes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Detained

Warnings: noncon sex, breeding kink, abuse of power.

This is dark!Bucky Barnes (Cop!AU) and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: You’re on your way home from the bar but you’re not alone.

Note: This is a dark!cop!Bucky for my beloved @mcu-bucky-barnes I hope you all enjoy it and it’s pretty dark I think. But anyway. Here’s a one shot to post for you all and I’d love to know what you think :) Please like, reply, and/or reblog if you read.

Another night. Or rather, morning. Last call saw you headed out with your leather jacket hanging from your shoulders and your worn boots scraping on the pavement. The streets lights puddled at the curb and the buildings leaned menacingly around you. The alcohol made the windows seem like eyes. Watching you. Judging you.

You stumbled and barely kept yourself from toppling. Your footsteps echoed out of time. You turned and glanced over your shoulder. A crooked shadow traipsed a few feet behind. You turned and crossed your arms. The man’s face came clear in the yellow light that beamed from the pole above him.

“Gary,” You huffed, “Fuck off.”

He was another regular. You saw him most nights in the Snake’s Tail. He played pool and slammed whiskey. He was a fucking loudmouth.

“Aye, just making sure you’re safe,” He slurred, “Saws ya tripping around the door.”

“Worry about yourself,” You snarled. “I don’t need you worryin’ bout me.”

You spun back and continued down the sidewalk. You went to the Tail most nights after work. Home by sunrise, you slept until your shift started in the early afternoon. When you weren’t at the factory, you were almost always at the greasy bar. The din, as repulsive as it was, numbed your loneliness.

“Oh, come on,” He dragged his feet behind you. “Lemme walk you home,” He got closer and you sidestepped him as he tried to hook his arm around you. “Is not safe.”

“I said fuck off,” You kept on and he righted himself with a flourish.

“I sees you eyeing me in the bar,” He shuffled behind you. “Girl in a place like that ain’t got much choices.”

“I’m checking to see if anyone’s had the sense to knock your teeth in yet,” You scowled, “Past time someone shut you up.”

“Don’t be like that,” He grabbed your arm and you shrugged him off. You kept your feet moving. “Playin’ hard to get, are ya?”

“I mean it, Gary,” You reached into your bag for the mace you kept hidden in the pocket. “Leave me the fuck alone.”

He grabbed you again, this time his weight fell against you and pinned you to the wall. You struggled in your drunkenness to free your arms from between you and unsheath the can in your hand.

“Get off,” You spat as his hands pinched and prodded at your body. “Fuck the fuck off!”

He latched onto your wrist as you tried to raise the can high enough and you struggled with him against the brick. He twisted your wrist as he forced his knees between yours and you cried out. You shoved him away as he leaned in and he fell back with surprising force. He was almost off his feet as the can of mace tumbled from your hand.

“She said leave her alone, sir,” The deep voice declared as he held Gary by his scruff. “What are you doing following women in the dark?”

“N-nothing, Officer,” Gary sputtered, his eyes wide in the yellow light. “Just walking home.”

“Oh, yeah,” The cop said as he adjusted his cap with his free hand. “If I run your license, will I find you a bit lost or...maybe a little more in the system, eh?”

“N-no, I was lost,” Gary said frantically, “Swears it, I thought...I thought this was fourth. Silly me.”

“Mmhmm,” The officer shoved Gary, “Why don’t you find your way before I find you less hospitable place to spend the night.”

You watched dumbfounded as the cop crossed his thick arms. Gary hung his head and grumbled as he quickly scurried back towards the bar. You fixed your purse on your shoulder and parted from the wall. The officer took a few steps forward and bent to lift the can of mace. He held it up in the small umbrella of light and sighed.

“You know this stuff is illegal?” He asked.

“So’s a knife,” You muttered.

“I’m gonna have to confiscate it,” He said. “You okay?”

“Fine. Am I free to go or…”

“You shouldn’t be walking out here alone. Not this late,” He turned the can between his fingers.

“I’ll be fine,” You shrugged, “Two blocks isn’t far.”

“Hmm,” He watched you waver and you shook the ripple from your vision. “Would you mind going through a few tests with me?”

“Are you...arresting me?” You blinked.

“I’m making sure you’re safe,” He corrected, “I’m here to serve and protect. Wouldn’t be doing either if I let you go in your state.”

“So? Are you arresting me?” You repeated.

“No, just let me give ya a ride, would you?” He replied. “Two blocks, not far. Like you said.”

“Gary’s an idiot. He won’t bother me again,” You rambled, “Really, I’m fine. I don’t need a ride.”

“I could write you a ticket for the mace. I don’t wanna but I also don’t want you walking home by yourself like this,” He nodded at the slightly lean in your posture. “So what is it? Three-hundred bucks or a short ride with your local pig.”

“Alright,” You raised your hands in surrender, “If it gets me home.”

“Just over here,” He pointed down the street. “So, where am I taking you?”

“Two blocks east. Just down Corwin.” You followed him and tried not to trip off the curve as he led you across the road. “Thanks.”

“Not at all, it’s my job.” He led you around the passenger’s side. “Sergeant Barnes,” He informed you. You gave him your name as he grabbed the back handle. “Sorry, regulations. You gotta take the back.”

“Mmm,” You grumbled and slid into the car as he held the door. “Thanks, I guess.”

He closed the door and rounded to the driver’s side. He sat and the car dipped with his weight. He removed his hat and combed his fingers through his hair. He turned the engine and looked up and down the empty street. You frowned as you thought, your head blurry as you tried to remember.

“I didn’t see you pull up,” You said as he pulled away from the curb.

“This is my beat, I was sitting here listening to the box and was distracted by your little argument,” He steered and glanced in the rear view as he spoke.

“Oh,” You scratched your head and looked out the window.

“You don’t usually have company so…” His voice trailed off as he stopped at a sign.

“What do you--” You rubbed your eyes and let your purse fall loose against the seat. “You--”

“I’ve seen you a couple times stumbling home. Harmless. Never bothered.” He said indifferently. He turned and your heart went to your throat. “Get a call every now and then but usually make out most of the night around here.”

“Where are you...you went the wrong way.” You clutched the door handle. It was locked. Strong enough to entrap the most resistant criminals. “Hey, where are you going?”

“It really is dangerous to be out this late.” He warned. “You know, no one really cares when some drunk chick gets herself into trouble in the dead of night. ‘Typical. Should’ve seen it coming’.”

“Seriously, what’s going on?” You slid forward on the seat and grasped the cage between the front and back. “Where are you going?”

“I mean, how reliable is a report when the girl’s so blasted she can’t even remember her way home? When she turns up half way across the city?” He continued and you slammed your hand on the metal.

“I’m fucking serious,” You hissed. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“You know, I could charge you with disorderly conduct. A fine, maybe jail time.”

“I…” Your voice trailed off as the realization sunk in. You looked out at the buildings as they passed by and back to the man at the steering wheel.

“You shouldn’t be hanging out in that place. No place for a girl like you,” You slumped back on the seat and gulped. “You’re lucky I was there. To think, a man like that with his hands on you…” He tutted. “That’s not right.”

“You...don’t know me,” You said quietly.

“I know you better than you think,” He countered. “I watch you every night walk into that bar. Couple hours later, you walk out. Staggering, really. Person doesn’t drink like that without reason. Judging by that tiny apartment and shitty factory work, I’d say loneliness. Maybe, disappointment, but it’s easier to be disappointed alone. One doesn’t drown those sorts of sorrows with others.”

“You followed me?” Your voice quavered. Was it fear or gin? Even you didn’t know.

“Not the first time I’ve run into Gary,” He growled. “I could usually get to him before he got too close. Dumb ass. I told him to stay away. He’s lucky…”

“Where are you going?” You asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” He assured you. “Where you don’t have to be afraid or alone.” He turned again, “Where we can be together.”

You stared stunned at the iron divider. Your heartbeat pulsed in your ears and you closed your eyes as the shadows hazed together. Come on, sober up. You begged your wits to gather but they quickly scattered as you slid against the door.

“Don’t you pass out now,” He called back, “We’re almost there.”

You clung to the car door as he descended a ramp beneath a storied parking garage. The pillars blurred in your vision as he pulled up in the back corner of the concrete fortress. You looked over as his door slammed and his footsteps echoed around the car. Your door opened and before you could slip out onto the tarmac, you were scooped up into a pair of thick arms.

He held you against him, your legs barely keept you up. You shook your head but it only made the flurry worse.

“One foot in front of the other,” He turned you as he guided your feet. “Just like that.”

You took a step as he kept his arm around your shoulder. You peeked over your other shoulder and tried to dash away from him. You only stumbled as he clung to you and dragged you forward.

“Don’t do that,” He sneered, “Resisting an officer. That’s definite time.”

“Please,” You begged as he forced you ahead. “You don’t...Please don’t do this. I didn’t do anything. I just…”

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He cooed as he led you through a doorway and out into the moonlight. You stopped at a single metal door in the next building. “I’m here to help you.”

“You...no, you’re not helping,” You reached up to touch your forehead as your thoughts melded together in a drunken daze. “No, no, you aren’t…”

“I saved you from Gary,” He opened the door and shoved you inside. “I’ve kept you safe all these weeks.”

“No, no, no,” You murmured. The hallway was airy and silent. The building looked abandoned. Now that you thought of it, the garage had been empty, too. “Where are we?”

You turned and tried to push past him to the door. He caught you and hoisted you easily over his shoulder. Your head spun wildly and you grabbed onto him as you felt as if you would fall. You wriggled in his grasp but it only added to your dizziness.

“Lemme go,” You slurred, “Please.”

“So you can drink alone every night. So you can let yourself be targeted by one of those drunken creeps?” He snapped. “You deserve better.” He stopped and you heard another door, “You deserve me.”

“Wha--” You yiped as you were flipped off his shoulder and onto a mattress. You sat up as he closed the door and it clicked. The metal frame creaked at your movement. “I wanna go home.”

“Home? Is that what you call that sad little apartment?” He neared and bent to look you in the face. “Where you touch yourself in the dark and cry?”

“How do you--”

“These questions, they don’t matter,” He pressed his finger to your lips. “What matters is that your safe here…” His other hand rested on your knee and slowly crept upward. “With me.”

“Why are you doing this?” You whispered. Your eyes burned and your nose tingled.

“Because you need me,” He stroked your chin, “You need to be protected.”

You hung your head and his hand fell to your throat. He played with the collar of your leather jacket and his other hand came up to push it back. He pulled it down your shoulders and you squeezed your arms tight to your torso. He growled.

“Don’t,” He warned. “We can do this the hard way but neither of us want that, do we?”

You looked up and his blue eyes flared. You sneered and he raised a brow in challenge.

“Shall I explain the hard way, hmm? You wanna go, go. Report me. Who do you think will believe you? Even if you didn’t reek of alcohol. And if you don’t report me, do you think you can escape me? Most employers aren’t favourable to those with rap sheets. Even community service looks bad when court mandated.” He smiled and gripped your chin. “So, it’s up to you.”

You gaped up at him and your arms went slack. He slipped your jacket free and turned to sling it over the single wooden chair against the wall. He kept his back to you as he unzipped his own coat. The heavy garment was set atop yours and he returned his attention to you. He planted his hands on his hips and tilted his head. He sighed.

“I trust you’re lucid enough to undress yourself,” He stared at you. “So...go on.”

“Please, why are you doing this?” You shimmied to the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to do this. You can let me go and I won’t say a wo--”

“I know you won’t say a goddamn word,” He snapped. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You stared at him. He stared back. His hand settled on his belt just beside his gun. Your eyes widened and you stood. His fingers danced along the metal.

You lifted the hem of your shirt carefully. He nodded as you drew it over your head. You let the cotton pool on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to unlace your boots. You slipped them off one at a time. His breath filled the small room as he watched you. You shoved your boots aside with your socks and stood to undo your jeans. You rolled them down your knees and crumpled them up with the rest of your clothes.

You hesitated as you were left in only your bra and panties. His eyes wouldn’t meet yours as they explored your body. “Sergeant Barnes,” You pleaded, “Please...you can still let me go.”

“Shhh,” He crossed the room and you flinched.

His reached around you and your bra fell slack with a single flick. He guided it down your arms and cradled it in his hands as he backed away. He rubbed the thin padding between his fingers and brought it up to inhale the scent of your sweat.

“Lay down.” He ordered.

You gulped and he lowered your bra with a pointed look. You sat on the mattress and crawled backward to lay across it. It was bouncy despite how thin it was. He tossed your bra and your eyes followed it until it disappeared beside the bed.

The jingle of metal drew you back and the mattress shifted. He climbed up and drew your hands together over your head. You freed a single hand and his went to your throat and squeezed.

“Stop,” He hissed. “Don’t make me hurt you. I don’t want to but I will.”

His blue eyes bore into yours as you gaped at him. His silence sealed the promise and you went limp once more. He clasped your hand in one cuff and ran them through the metal bars of the headboard. He cuffed your other wrist and backed off the bed.

He unbuckled his belt first, then untied his boots; the former disposed atop his jacket and the latter beneath the chair with his socks. Next he slowly unbuttoned his shirt as he watched you tug against the cuffs. He removed it and undid his fly swiftly. His movement grew faster as he looked over at you. He tore his pants down his legs and stepped out.

Only a thin undershirt and his briefs remained to him. He was strong. His muscles ripple with his movements and his biceps bulged. You could see his erection barely restrained by the navy fabric. You shuddered and the cuffs grinded against the bed frame. He stripped himself of the ribbed shirt and tossed it over his shoulder. He neared the end of the bed and it dipped under his weight.

He crawled over you, your waist straddled between his thighs. His fingers walked the length of your arms and back up. His fingertips danced along your collarbone and he cupped your tits. He played with them shyly but suddenly his touch turned fervent. He kneaded your chest and tweaked your nipples. You squeaked and a shiver shook his body.

“You’ve been asking for this,” He said as he pushed his crotch against yours. “You knew it would happen sooner or later. Girl like you can’t be out after dark on her own.”

“Please,” You whispered as he leaned over you, his lips only inches from your own. “Please, don’t.”

“Don’t worry. I was there, I was always there,” His nose tickled yours as he spoke, “Watching you. Keeping you safe from those creeps.” He brought a hand up to caress your cheek. “Because you’re mine.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as he pressed his lips to yours. Your heart hammered and your head swirled dangerously. He was right, you were stupid. Your mother had warned you for years about your drinking habits and your carelessness. You never listened to her, did you?

“You don’t have to be afraid, I’ll protect you,” He sat back and slid off your legs.

He hooked his fingers under your panties and tugged them down. You squirmed as he yanked them past your ass. You whimpered and he shushed you. You looked away as he untangled your panties from your ankles. He pushed at the elastic of his briefs and you kept your eyes on the ceiling.

You winced as his rough palms ran up your legs and along your stomach. He played with your tits again and bent to trail kisses along your skin. He nipped here and there as he explored from nape to hip.

He pushed your legs apart as he knelt between them. Your thighs tensed as he gripped them and he held them in place. He tickled along your pelvis and edged along your tender spot.

His hot breath grazed your pussy and you helplessly pulled against the cuffs. His tongue was cool and startling as he dragged it between your lips. You gasped and he framed your vee with his hands. He lapped up and down and around your clit. Your back arched at the sensation it sent through you. The base urge to sink into his touch.

He nuzzled along your pussy and suckled at your bud. You held in the moan that threatened to rise and he slipped a hand down to tease between your fold. You gulped and bent your legs around him.

“Please,” You whined, “Why are you doing this?”

He ignored you and your voice dissolved in the air as he circled around your entrance with his finger. You held your breath as he pushed inside. He pulled in and out as his mouth continued to toy with you. He added another finger and you choked. His thick fingers stretched you deliciously. It had been almost a year since you had been touched by another.

“Mmmm,” He hummed and the buzz flowed through you.

Your breath hitched and your body writhed against him. He sped up, his fingers curled inside of you and found that sacred spot. His tongue was a flurry around your clit and you moaned through your teeth as the thrill washed over you. You quaked and cried out, your thighs snug around his head as you came. He lapped up your climax until you laid weak and breathless beneath him.

He lifted his head, his lips glistened, and he smiled. You closed your eyes in shame and shook your head.

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that,” His sat up and brushed his hands along your goose-bumped stomach. “It’s feels nice, doesn’t it? To be safe? With me?”

You trembled and he climbed over you. You opened your eyes as his thighs came up around your rib cage, his cock bobbed above you. He stroked himself with one hand as his other hand traced your lips.

He gripped your chin and squeezed until you were forced to open, just a little. He lifted himself on his knees and angled himself over you. He leaned on the metal headboard and pressed his tip to your lips.

“Open,” His tone had turned back to stone.

Your mouth snapped open and he plunged inside without pause. He met the back of your throat and you gagged. He pulled back only to let you breathe and tried again. Three thrusts before he glided past your reflex. Your throat constricted around him and he groaned. The sounds of slobber around his cock was sickening as he worked in and out of you.

“That’s it, babe,” He coaxed and his hand snaked around across your throat. You could feel his palm against his cock inside of you. “Fuck, you take me so well.”

Your eyes rolled back as you struggled to breathe around him. He fucked your face harder and you kicked your legs desperately. His grip on your neck tightened and each thrust burned your throat. You gulped and gasped around him as his grunts filled your head.

He pulled out of you all at once, his cock dripped with your spit as he pushed himself to his feet with the headboard. You quivered beneath him as he grabbed the base of his cock and stepped back.

“Fuck, you almost made me cum.” He fell to his knees between yours. “Bad, bad girl.” He grabbed the back of your knees and lifted your legs. You could feel the cool air along your still wet pussy. “It’d a shame to blow in that pretty little mouth of yours especially with a cunt like this.”

You tried to pushed your legs straight but he held them easily in place. He shifted closer and you felt his cock poke at your pussy. He wiggled his hips so that the tip dragged along your folds and he bent your legs even further. He slipped through your slick entrance in a single motion and you gasped.

He sank to his limit and your cry turned to a squeal. He stretched your walls painfully as his pelvis pressed against yours. He lingered and let your legs fall against him. He lined your ankles up with his shoulders and clung to your knees as he wiggled his hips. He groaned as he delighted in your warmth.

“I’m gonna fill you up, babe,” He purred and his head fell back. He shuddered and slowly began to rock his hips. “You want me to fill you up?”

A chill ran through you. It had been so long, you had stopped taking your pill. It was cheaper, more practical. You hadn’t planned on fucking anyone but the vibrator hidden in your night table. You prayed he didn’t mean what you thought.

You were helpless as his motion picked up little by little. You couldn’t resist the heat that formed from the friction of his cock within you. He hugged your legs to him as he lifted his head and fucked you faster and faster. His blue eyes clung to yours as a battle raged within. The shame, the pleasure, the fear.

He pounded deeper and deeper. His flesh clapped loudly against yours, painfully even. Your moans were a symphony of agony and bliss. You bit your lip as you struggled to catch your breath. The bed shook beneath your bodies and you wrapped your fingers around the metal bars of the headboard.

You could feel another peak. You snarled as the orgasm spiked against your will. Your legs went stiff against him and he smirked at the spasm that curved your spine. He sped up again and his groans rose louder and louder. He was close, too.

“P-p-pull out,” You rasped. “Please…”

He chuckled and bent over you so that your legs were almost against your chest. He clung to your shoulders and slammed his pelvis into yours over and over.

“I’m gonna fill you up. Every last--drop.” He sputtered between pants. “Every--bit--of--me.” He snarled and his pace turned frantic. “You’re gonna--feel me--inside--of--you.”

He cried out and thrust as deep as he could go. His thumb stretched across your throat as he came and he hung his head as he growled in his delight. He slowed to decisive jabs as he rode out his orgasm. He jolted into you over and over, painfully, until his cum seeped out around his cock.

His entire weight rested again you. You were folded in half beneath him and your back strained painfully. He huffed and slowly sat back. He stayed inside of you and pressed his thumb to your clit. You squirmed and he chuckled. Your legs fell around him and you let go of the bars.

“It’ll be hard at first,” He pulled out of you and you felt the gush of his cum. “The withdrawal and all that.” He dragged his finger through the mess that spilled from your cunt. “And the hormones won’t help at all.” He sat back and raised his shining fingertip. “But the baby will make it worth it.” He smiled. “It will give you a reason. Something more than the drink.”

“What are you--”

“It might take a few tries,” He once more began to play with your pussy and pushed his cum back inside.

“No,” You yanked against the cuffs and they rang against the headboard. “No. Let me go.”

“It’s a lot to adjust to and I’ll be away for a while during my shifts.” He rubbed his cock between your folds as he spoke. “You can sleep then. You’ll have food and water. I can bring you some of your stuff. Maybe some books?”

“What are you…” Your voice trailed off as he pushed inside. He was only semi-hard but it didn’t deter him. “Stop.”

He rocked inside of you and pushed his hands beneath your ass. He lifted your pelvis as he began to fuck you slowly. You closed your eyes as his heady breaths floated around you. The metal cuffs dug into your wrists and you held back a sob.

You shook your head as you tried to awake yourself from the drunken nightmare. All it did was make your head ache. You opened your eyes and gasped as you found the dream to be all too real.

He was real, this room was real, and you were trapped here with him.

#fic #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #cop!bucky barnes #cop!au #au #dark!fic #dark fic #darkverse #dark!verse #mcu #marvel #captain america

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adrrianraines · 4 years

Text

can’t speak the language that you need • adrian x mc

sensory prompt #37: the tender ache when you press against bruises. song inspiration: if i—ross copperman

disclaimer: i wanted angst in that controlled love interest scene. where is it??? where??? so here it is! here’s how i imagined it would have been!! deadass just kidding im crying

YOU STARED BLANKLY up ahead as you zoomed like a phantom of the night in the streets of new york. the sinister look of rheya mouthing confidently that she’ll see you again kept playing inside your head like a badly orchestrated taunt from a cliched horror flick villain on repeat in a broken dvd player.

your hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as the unsuspecting city lights finally came to view. the illuminations and shadows the buildings emanated, the chatter and laughter of citizens going about their day, oblivious and ignorant to everything that’s happening felt nothing short of like a punch in the gut. it was too much that whenever your mind reels back towards the incident, you can feel your chest tighten, stomach churning and bile forming, the raw taste flooding your mouth.

you felt faint. you loathed how the trepidation just won’t go away. you wanted to cry out your frustration for the dire turn of the situation, wanting to desperately pin the blame on someone for the all the anger, fear, hopelessness and disappointment. whenever you blink, vivid images flashes, making you remember how rheya controlled your friends and commanded them against their will—the look of blood lust aimed right at you as bright as a neon paint being splattered on an empty canvas.

then after the rage, you felt nothing but exhaustion, hurt and apprehension as one face particularly struck you the most: adrian.

torment only consumed you further as you came to the most painful realization above everything else:

adrian almost killed you. without hesitation nor remorse.

you recall how terrifying it was to look at the face who showed you nothing but kindness slowly turn to a monster out for your demise. you recall how you stared into his eyes and not recognize the person who owns it. how he looked empty and hallow, like a puppet following its master’s strings. you recall the loss of hope that left a bitter pang when you tried calling out to him, trying to reason with the adrian that you knew, only for it to turn into a futile attempt of puny redemption.

the feeling of panic was lingering, wrapping your well-being like a blanket of breeze on a cold winter night. you blink and you remember the murderous look on his face, the way he bared his fangs at you, the way his hands wrapped around your neck, the sheer desire and craving to hurt you—of wanting your death.

you swallowed hard, millions of thoughts running rampant all at once as you trained your eyes on the road, shoulders tense and shaking. you quickly glanced towards your friends, all worn out and certainly out of it. realizing you drove far enough to be followed, you make a turn towards a dark and decrepit alley, parking the car on a curb. with the look of things, it was ideal to stop and collect yourselves first before proceeding blindly.

when the engine of the car died, you let out a sigh you realized you’ve been holding. you jumped in surprise when you felt someone’s hand on your thigh, the sensation goading a pleasantly unwelcome electric tingle on your skin. you turn to see adrian looking at you with regret and worry, mouth opening and closing at the same time, unable to find the right words to say. the visible flinch you showed because of his touch only made him remove his hand as quickly as it came, as if he just touched a burning flame.

realizing that you can’t look at him directly without remembering his murderous trance, you moved to get out of the vehicle for fresh air. maybe, just maybe, distancing yourself for a bit might be the most ideal thing to do that moment.

with a heavy heart, you marched towards the opposite side of the street as you unconsciously looked for anything to lean on, gaze frantic and unfocused. your breathing hitches and wild flashbacks of the day you died came back to haunt. it was the same amount of fear, a similar sensation, and yet entirely different at the same time.

you barely noticed your surroundings when your legs gave out, your sudden loss of momentum causing you to wobble. the world seemed to stop when you didn’t feel the hard concrete but instead a pair of strong arms wrapped around you, preventing your fall by catching you before you even hit the ground.

a familiar, calming scent wafted your senses which clouded your better judgment. the alluring lull of fierce security felt like loose threads tying itself again. you let out a shaky breath, feeling weak and drained to even struggle against his hold. adrian steadies you in front of him, arms holding you tight, the warmth of his presence both inviting and alarming.

you avoided his gaze as he tries to catch yours, the desperation on his features unparalleled. he remained quiet, as if he’s trying to assess things first before speaking. however, it didn’t take long until he finally got the answer that he was looking for. his eyes trailed your movement when you unconsciously touched your neck, precisely at the part where you felt his vice grip slowly snatching the life out of you.

you grunted at the tender ache that you felt, and he notices it—rather, he sees it vividly, the very product of his weakness. it was like watching a mirror slowly fall down and break to tiny pieces, each glass shattering to a thousand more. you did nothing but watch at how the weight of realization knocked the winds out of his sails with sheer terror washing over his countenance. the sadness and desperation on his face then turned to guilt and rage—not to you, but to himself, to what he did, to what he couldn’t do and to what he realized he was capable of doing. adrian couldn’t believe the depth of violence he caused.

his arms falls flat to his side, going limp and useless. he immediately took a step back, all signs of hope drifting further faster than a raging waterfall. yet under the faint glow of the streetlights, he still looked divine. if this was a normal situation, you would have laughed at yourself with how you’re still capable of such thoughts. however, you can’t even find your voice to speak, let alone bring yourself close to him. you wanted to badly touch him, to comfort him, to tell him it’s going to be okay. but you knew you’d be lying. you froze in place, unable to move, unable to do anything—your own fear becoming the burden you’re carrying.

“adrian... please...” you croaked out, wincing at how your voice was shaking. he shifted to his feet so he can step closer, his unsure movements an indication of his inner battles. his hands hang dead in the air, trying to reach you with words left unsaid. but he stopped midway when you instinctively took a step back. you didn’t know why, or how, but your body just moved. it’s as if it was protecting you from harm, as if it was on instinct, as if it recognized adrian as a threat.

“i did that... didn’t i?” his voice was quiet yet certain. he locked gazes with you before his eyes roamed to your cheeks, your lips, your jaw... and finally, towards your neck. and it was then that you witnessed how this was breaking him as much as it was breaking you as well. your chest clenched at how devastated he looked, how resignation reigned in his features. the color of life finally draining from his orbs—as if all of his nightmares finally came to life.

it shatters you to see how tired adrian looked and how exhausted he seemed, as if his age has finally caught up with him. he looked exposed. lost. vulnerable. helpless. like an empty shell of a man who touched many wars and took many lives. a warrior who was finally drowning from all the sins he committed in his entire lifetime.

“do i still deserve it? your heart...” he pauses and shakes his head. he let out a bitter laugh as his voice proceeds to quiver, then immediately breaks. “no... i... don’t... not anymore.”

and for the first time ever since you’ve met him, he looked defeated.

suffer with me laid ease!! @isabella-choices @dadrianraines @violinet

#playchoices #bloodbound #adrian raines #adrian x mc #writings #im salty and want some angst.... pb please....

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sayhitoforever · 5 years

Text

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - Pt (2/?)

Fictober 25/31

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 - GIF credit to malcolmbrighted

Malcolm waited as patiently as he could manage until Y/N was alone before crossing the warehouse space towards her. He noted the way her eyes seemed to trace patterns in the ash and grime, patterns he didn't see. She paid no mind to his presence as he hovered just a few feet away, moving with her as she paced. Malcolm was too much like a dog with a bone to keep quiet indefinitely though.

“So, how long exactly does it take you to key into people? Is it a matter of time spent with them or the topic of conversation?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, hands in his pockets. The three burned bodies behind him were all but forgotten, all so he could focus his attention on the bigger mystery in the room.

She gave Malcolm a measured look that was almost hauntingly indifferent. “I don't believe I follow your question, Mr. Bright,” she said as she bent over, eyes studying what she could see of the building’s concrete foundation.

“I didn't even know that JT liked the opera. And Dani told me she hates cilantro just last week.” Malcolm watched her face with a scrutiny he knew she was aware of.

“She's got that sad cilantro-soap gene,” Y/N said with a deep sigh as she stood up straight. “I see that we're both a little married to our work, profiler.”

Malcolm wrinkled his nose at the name, catching the edge of disdain in her voice. It was awfully distracting, he thought to himself. She was distracting, beautiful in a way that was hard not to draw attention. And yet she didn't seem to carry herself in the way that people who knew they were attractive usually did, with a seemingly effortless confidence. Everything about her felt so practiced, so controlled, so intentional. She would have been unsettling if she wasn’t so utterly fascinating.

“You know, I have a theory that social chameleons are sociopaths that learned to—” Malcom began, deciding that maybe his go-to blunt questions approach wasn't going to work in this particular situation and that maybe outright declaring his intention with this conversation was best.

“Don't move,” Y/N barked, voice sharp and Malcolm literally froze mid-step. “You almost just destroyed my ignition point.”

Malcolm watched as she crouched down in the ash and grime, the hem of her stunning dress dragging in it as she leveled herself with the floor. He looked up briefly to see that they were standing just outside the warehouse now, in the back of it actually, with only the charred steel foundation around them. Y/N was completely enraptured by whatever she was studying, Malcolm entirely forgotten above her as her eyes traced the line she had found.

“How long have you been an arson investigator?” Malcolm asked finally, hating the still silence, needing answers, answers in any form he could get them.

“A few years.” Y/N replied, getting down nearly to the point that her cheek touched the floor.

“Why arson?” Malcolm knew it was the most profiler-esque question he'd asked yet, and he expected an equally evasive answer from her.

She sighed as she sat back on her haunches, eyes moving up to view the three charred corpses from where she was. “Fire is as beautiful as it is dangerous, much like people are. It eats away at what is old and weak and leaves the possibility of new growth in its wake. With the right accelerant, it can destroy faster than most people think fathomable, or it can get snuffed out with just a breath.” The brief smile she gave Malcolm as she looked up was coy, borderline flirtatious. “Everything works better with the right accelerant.”

Malcolm would have had to have been stupid not to catch the double meaning of her words. And the look on her face caused his pulse to jump briefly. He had to choke down all of the questions that loaded his tongue as Gil rejoined them, looking hopefully down at Y/N who remained crouched in the ash.

“You're looking at a single ignition point. They left a gas trail, starting outside, here, and going into the building. No gas can remnants likely because it burned along with your three friends over there. Who were, no doubt, expecting your suspect.” Y/N paused, cocked her head slightly to the side as she stared past the group to the bodies in the distance again. “Probably a match starter that they threw down here. Clean, very clean. Professional. You're also looking for a single suspect, not a group.”

“And just how exactly do you know that?” Malcolm asked before Gil could speak first, feeling as close to agitated as he had since Y/N had walked onto the crime scene.

“Because I've seen this before.” She glanced skyward briefly to see the sun had set completely, the only light left was that of the cop cars stationed sporadically and the lights they were beginning to set up. She looked up and gave Gil an apologetic grimace. “Send me whatever you get off the bodies. If Edrisa can find any secondary accelerants, then Snake Eyes here could probably figure out just how premeditated this was and we can go from there. I've got some time tomorrow. I can come in, if you'd like?”

‘Snake Eyes’, Malcolm mouthed to himself as Gil offered Y/N a helping hand up.

“We would greatly appreciate that. Edrisa will likely be up all night with this one,” Gil said, sounding remorseful.

“Oh, good,” Y/N said, eyes as bright as her smile. “This benefit shouldn’t last too long and I’ve missed our early morning Baby Stout days.”

Gil’s expression spoke only of exhausted exasperation. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that you and my M.E drink on the job.”

Y/N’s grin just widened. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“Let me walk you to your car,” Malcolm said quickly, following after her without giving Gil another glance.

She said nothing as she picked her way across the crime scene towards a black sedan parked on the other side of the street, pulling keys from her purse. Malcolm thought it was strangely fitting that whatever perfume she was wearing smelled a bit like a burning pine forest; sharp, earthy, smoky. A heady, intoxicating combination.

“I look forward to working with you further, Mr. Bright. This case will give us a chance to get to know each other better,” Y/N said with a wink and the same coquettish smile that said she already had him all figured out.

She pulled open the driver’s door and, out of ingrained manners, Malcolm held it open for her. But he was unable to look away from her eyes, slightly entranced and feeling all for the world like a butterfly pinned to corkboard with her stare.

“Do try to get some sleep, this case will be a challenging one.” The door slipped out of Malcolm’s shocked hands as she pulled it closed. The car started, the headlights flickered on, and she pulled away from the curb, taking a sharp right and disappearing out of sight.

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wotnahq · 3 years

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Kaspar Ildstrom • 45 • Male (he/him) • Metahuman • Omnikinesis • Civilian

BIOGRAPHY

Kaspar Sigurd Ildstrom was born December 4, 2000 to Ilse and Christopher, Danish immigrants to South Africa, the first of five sons and one daughter. Ilse would die in 2014, taking with her almost all that was soft and trusting in the already frigid disposition of the military tactician that was her husband, founder of Velentr Industries (Private Military Corporation & Security Consultancy).

Kas did not inherit his father’s iron temperament, rather his mother’s fiery temper and a restless energy that longed for change, challenge. As eldest, he cared for his younger siblings with warm affinity and playful mischief as they grew, delighting in the uniqueness of each accomplishment, of each gift that needed to be secreted away from the world. All of the siblings manifested powers young, the latest at sixteen, and Kaspar had been no different. It began with the recklessness and whims of early childhood, mashed broccoli flung in the fits of a tantrum, and only grew governed by focus, emotion, his father’s firm guiding hand…and his own whims.

The cattle ranch they grew up on was run with discipline and efficiency to curb the wildness each of the siblings had inherited to some extent, though perhaps none moreso than Kaspar. So many nights spent staring up at the stars and longing for them to change, to pull them closer, to pull himself anywhere - everywhere else - no matter how he loved his family, the unyielding winds of fortune and wanderlust called to him with the promise of stardust and adventure.

Having grown up hunting and in the home environment he did, it was not a surprise that at 18, he joined the South African Defense forces, at 21 he certified as a South African Special Forces Operator, specializing in Sniping, Parachute, and Urban Operations. Yet, he chafed against the limitations, the need to conceal the gift behind every ‘lucky shot’ and its honing, the ever present longing for something more after the thrill or terror of every deployment. After his 4 year contract ended, he enlisted with his father’s firm and thought this would be different.

The unveiling of metahuman abilities to the world had been a blessing and a curse for the soldiers of fortune of the Ildstrom family.

As violently prejudiced as many turned out to be, many more were eager to contract metahumans - perceived “super soldiers” - to intervene in the eruptions of violence that wracked countless countries across the continents. By now, Kaspar had been joined by most of his siblings in the family business, and business was booming. Enough that they were all stretched thin, breaks between deployment shortened, and pressure and opportunity to hone their skills through the trials of fire and blood never lacking. The constant movement eased the restless gnaw in his chest somewhat, the fate of a little girl in a small town in Afghanistan would do far more.

It had been a small operation, to suppress an uprising in the territory of a high paying Warlord. It was like stepping into the glutted stomach of war. Bodies hung from buildings or lay in the street, feral dogs the only ones unafraid to sate themselves on the feast of carnage. But what caught his attention, hidden in an alley were the soft sobs and strange bioluminescent glow of a small child. She likely didn’t even know how to control it, only knew the danger it presented. As he knelt to comfort her four sounds happened in rapid succession: The enraged scream of a militant anti-meta insurgent, the sound of rapid gun fire, his own hoarse shout…and the interrupted scream of terror from the girl.

Instinct pulled her close against him, flung the shooter against rough brick of building wall.

She still died.

Wrath and grief poured through him, potent and vengeful, and the bloody, indistinguishable and impaled body of the man responsible told a story of ruthlessness and calculated anguish. That smoke filled hell had taught him something he should have realized long ago - it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to do the job, to have powers if he couldn’t even protect a scared child. Even hidden beneath the smog of war, he willed the stars to change, to come crashing down into this maw of desolation…but they wouldn’t. They left it to him.

When he was 40, in an unsanctioned operation, after 22 years of deployment after deployment, unflinching in his use of his powers now under the agent name Valkyr… the world turned. A cornered meta, a terrorist group, and an unstable parking garage walk into a bar. Or, more accurately, fall onto a Dane. A stray bullet, the other meta’s powers raging out of control, the strain of his own stubborn attempts to keep the whole thing from collapse - tons of metal and steel and concrete…and it all came crashing down. His powers raged, an orbit of decimation indiscriminate in radius and degree, and yet…

It took his left lung, spleen, kidney. It left spiderweb cracks and chasms in his ribs, fractures in his arm that jutted through skin where jagged shards of metal tried to sink their way beneath. It would gift him titanium rods and bolts to guide and hold shattered bone and torn ligament, as if the rebar piping pinning him to concrete desired so much to stay. It traced lines where only sutures would be able to follow over freckled skin, organ, and muscle. It left caresses in the form of blooming scar tissue over his hammering heart, fluttering so fast with fear and will. .

There were no stars to be seen beneath the rubble and ash; only the cold and one thought: Stay.

Four years of reconstruction, transplant, repair. Four years feeling the crush of all that metal and concrete in the limitations of concepts like ‘recovery’ and ‘functionality’. More haunting than the shrapnel and scalpel scars that lingered over his left flank was the ghost that perched in those words - the ache for the life before, the reality of what it was now. Even among the specialists in Copenhagen, in Johannesburg, in Berlin, Oslo…there was the final line of ‘learn to manage expectations’. Managing expectations looked like a sad shard of what his powers once were, day by day, working from the ground up through the pain. Managing expectations looked like settling in Danmark, obtaining a degree in early childhood education. Managing expectations meant learning to accept pity often, to hide the shame of the scars that hid his failure, to accept his body failing him now, to accept its slowness as the waves of kinetic energy passed him by. Unpulling. Adrift in the memories of everything lost.

There was no discussion of his powers, of how they might interact with any previous interventions to save his life, if they were mentioned at all it was with an awkward glance to the tattoo over his wrist and the soft chagrin of ‘we don’t know much about how meta physiology will react to this’. That restless wind tugged at him once more. Time for a change.

Pansaw had once been the poster child for civil unrest and metasuppression, a distant war zone he’d only glimpsed on the news. In 2044, things had moved on - he knew better than to expect utopia in the rebuild, but the small spark of nearly extinguished hope for something better, for recovery alongside his gifts…It was enough to leave behind the sanctuary of Denmark, the thought of returning to the once home of South Africa.

He would find his hopes overturned not by anti-meta feeling in the halls of C.A.R.M.A., but ironically the very reason he had come. Pre-existing conditions which made him unsuitable for field work - this was not said, but underpinned the implications of ‘risk analysis’.

For the past year he’s fallen back on old skills (mercenary work and the occasional fight at the Madhouse) to pay for private treatment alongside the limited benefits of his day job working as a childcare provider for a metahuman daycare.

POWERS

OMNIKINESIS: The power to influence, control, and manipulate all matter and energy with the user’s mind. Kaspar’s specialization lies in five subset categories, the primary being telekinetic applications of this power, though extends to the subpowers of energy manipulation, matter manipulation, weather manipulation, and the manipulation of fundamental forces.

WEAKNESSES

Kaspar’s powers are governed by a combination of focus, emotion, and will. Flares of strong emotion may cause them to become uncontrollable whereas disbelief and self doubt have a dampening effect. Traumatic experiences may seal powers off from use. Distraction is disruptive to use.

Use of powers exacts a tremendous physical toll, particularly on transplanted organs that are not compatible with his channeling of kinetic energy. May result in anything from mild exhaustion to collapse, tremors, coma, organ failure, migraines, major fatigue, illness, coughing up blood, up to death. Repercussions increase depending on level of mastery required for feat, general health (stamina, illness, injury), number feats being simultaneously performed, and any environmental effects (e.g. other users’ powers).

PERSONALITY

+ Compassionate + Charismatic + Quick Witted

– Overly Tenacious – Hot Tempered – Unpredictable

#lsrp #superpower rp #mutant rp #oc rp #michael fassbender #character #kaspar ildstrom

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sujathasblog · 2 months

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cecesxwickedxocsx · 4 years

Note

“did you think i forgot?” Ur fave oc

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit!” Poppy ran through the halls, the long skirt of her dress hiked up to inappropriate heights, but she couldn’t care less in that moment. Her bare feet slapped against the hard floors but she knew this was better than sliding around in the sandals she was suppose to be wearing.

“Watch it!” She called out as she jumped over a briefcase in her haste to get down the hall.

“Is that Poppy?” She heard someone ask as she ran, not stopping to see who it was.

She slammed through the front doors of the building and outside, the warm concrete against the soles of her feet.

“Look out!” She shouted, swerving left to avoid a group of people. She hopped over the curb and through the parking lot. She didn’t know what time it was, she didn’t know how much time she had, she just knew she had to get there and back before it was too late.

She barely bothered to look both ways as she blew across street, by the time she got to her parents house she was running on pure adrenaline. Her heart was pounding in her chest and she knew if she paused for a moment, she’d pass out. She didn’t do this much running. So she pushed through, running up the stairs to the bedroom where they had been getting ready early that morning. She grabbed the little satin pillow off the bed and ran back down the stairs and out. She knew her father and the others were somewhere in the house but she didn’t have the time.

She made the trip back, not slowing until she got back into the church.

“I’m dying.” She gasped, sitting down on the floor, trying to catch her breath. “Oh my god.” She placed a hand on her chest, gulping in air like her life depended on it. When it didn’t hurt to inhale anymore, she got up and headed, much slower this time, down the hall to the back room. She pushed the door open. Lily sat at the little white vanity, her red locks being pinned up on top of her head.

“You have it!” Lily brightened when she saw the little ring bearer pillow in her sister’s hand.

“did you think i forgot?” Poppy winked,

#poppy evans #look i'm currently obsessed with poppy #like I can't #hughstheforcelou

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dark-sky-seraphim · 5 years

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Into the Night - Part 1

Here’s a little crossover story I had the sudden urge to write. The fandoms in this crossover are WWE and Supernatural.

I’m open to constructive criticism so don’t be afraid to message either this blog or my main blog with any comments, questions, or suggestions (main blog is fallen-angels-and-broken-hunters). You can also find this story on AO3.

Into the Night - Part 1

Synopsis: Finn Bálor is saved by a mysterious woman who leads him into a world he never thought possible - the world of the unnatural. His world will never be the same.

Pairing: Finn Bálor x Female!Reader

Word Count: 1,070

Warnings: Language, mild violence

“Alright, I'll see you tomorrow night then...will do...bye.” Finn Bálor hangs up his phone and smiles. He tucks it away in his over sized shoulder bag as he emerges from the large glass doors of the Chicago sky rise. He reaches into the pocket of his work trousers and pulls out his car keys. As he walks across the parking lot, he hears a rustling in the bushes around him. He pauses a moment but brushes it off, figuring it's just a rabbit or something. Finn barely takes three steps before he hears more rustling – and growling. His heart begins to race. “What the hell?” he mutters under his breath. He quickens his walking pace. Before he can reach his car, someone jumps from the bushes and tackles him to the ground.

The attacker, a 30-something year old male, pins Finn to the ground. Finn attempts to push the attacker off of him but the guy is too strong. He digs his knees into Finn's ribs and bares a devilish grin. Suddenly, his teeth become pointed and razor sharp. “What the FUCK?” Finn screams. The sight of the teeth causes him to panic. He tries with everything he has in him to fight off whoever – or whatever – is trying to kill him. Just as this creature closes in on his throat, another mysterious person leaps out and pushes it off of him.

This time, it's a female someone who has entered the fight. She wrestles with the creature, delivering a series of punches and kicks as she fights. When the creature gains the upper hand, it knocks something out of her hand, pulls her to her feet, and shoves her against a car. Finn quickly crawls over to the item the girl was carrying. He picks it up and examines it; it's a syringe filled with some sort of dark red liquid.

“Hey!” the girl shouts at Finn as she struggles to be released from the creatures grasp. “Stick that in his neck!”

“I'm sorry...what?” The confusion in Finn's voice is unmistakable.

The girl yells in pain as the creature picks her up and slams her onto the concrete. “The syringe! HURRY!” She dodges several attacks by the creature.

Finn makes a mad dash for the creature. He bellows out a war cry as he grabs it from behind and stabs it in the neck with the needle. He empties the contents of the syringe into the creature. Immediately, the creature's body stiffens and collapses in a heap next to the girl.

“Thanks,” the girl huffs.

Finn, at a loss for words, extends an arm to her. She accepts and he heaves her to her feet. “No problem,” he manages to reply. “Who are you?”

“My name's Y/N.” She holds up her index finger. “Hang on a sec.” She walks over to a nearby car, reaches into the trunk, and pulls out a rather large knife. She saunters over to the creature and hovers over it. Turning back to Finn, she warns, “If you're squeamish, you may want to avert your eyes.” Y/N hoists the knife high above her head then slices clean through the creature's neck. As she heads back to Finn, she cleans blood from the knife.

“So,” Finn questions. “What was that thing?”

Y/N smiles smugly. “You wouldn't believe me.”

“I just saw a human being that wasn't exactly human. Try me.”

She looks him dead in the eyes. “What's your name?”

“Finn.”

“Well, Finn, that was a vampire.”

His eyebrows furrow and his eyes widen. “Seriously?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “A vampire? No. That can't be right.” He begins to pace frantically. "What was that I injected him with?"

"Dead man's blood. It doesn't kill them but it paralyzes them for a long while."

Finn's breathing becomes heavy.“Really? A damn vampire? What, I suppose you're going to tell me that werewolves exist, too?” His voice is reaching supersonic levels.

Y/N's lips curl into a small smile. “Yeah, they do, actually. And so do ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, sirens, banshees, fairies, leviathans, angels, demons – need I go on?”

Finn sits on the curb of the sidewalk and puts his head in his hands. “Monsters are real...” Finn exhales in disbelief.

“If it makes you feel any better, Bigfoot is a hoax,” Y/N remarks.

“Yeah. Loads better.” Finn rolls his eyes.

Y/N sits next to him on the curb. “It's a lot to take in, I know.” She gazes at him as he tries to gather his thoughts. “I'm sure you have questions so – lay 'em on me.”

Finn sighs. “How long have these monsters existed?”

“Forever, I guess. Some species are older than others.”

“And you just run around and kill them?”

“I do my best. It gets hard when it's a monster I've never even heard of.”

Finn finally looks up at Y/N. “Are there others like you?”

“Definitely. We're scattered all over the country. We call ourselves 'hunters.' Some work in pairs or groups. Some work alone. Some continuously break the world and put it back together again...”

“How does anyone decide to become one of these hunters?” His voice is becoming less worried and more intrigued.

Y/N looks down at the ground. “We all have our stories,” she responds quietly. Finn notices the saddened expression in her face. “But,” Y/N continues, “I won't bore you with any of that.” She places a hand on his shoulder. “How're you doing, Finn?”

“Uh...still in shock but coming to terms, I guess.” He slowly rises to his feet. “I'll be alright. Although, knowing those things are out there – getting to sleep tonight is going to be a bitch.”

Y/N smiles softly. “Here.” She hands him the knife she used earlier. “Just in case other vamps from his nest catch your scent. Aim for the neck.” She pauses, reading the confusion on Finn's face. “As in, decapitate the sucker.”

“Ah. Gotcha. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Y/N holds out a hand in front of her. Finn takes it and give her a firm handshake. “Nice to meet you, Finn. Try and stay out of trouble.” She releases Finn's hand then makes her way to her car.

Finn looks down at the knife his hero bestowed upon him. “Y/N, wait!” he hollers before she slams her car door shut. He takes a few steps towards her. “I want to become a hunter.”

***

Part 2

#wwe #finn balor x reader #supernatural #crossover #reader insert #fanfic

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cannedapricot · 6 years

Text

Road Trip with! NCT Dream

the album,,,,,,, the mv,,,,,, i’m soft don’t touch me,,,,,,,,,,,, here’s a road trip au based on their mv to let my uwus out. also this gif makes me hella emo

hello

so i know school has started in most countries

but for this au, pretend that you’re still on summer vacation!!

aka what i wish i was on rn ugh

anyways!!

high schoolers! dream!!!

except-

mark’s already graduated high school

and will head off to his uni after the summer ends

then donghyuck, jeno, jaemin and renjun’s gonna graduate before next year summer

which really means

that it’s gonna be the last summer of your crew as high schoolers

this thought didn’t really go through your head until a week before school starts

when the 00 line fucking shows up at your door with their bags already packed

and bright smiles

you’re just like-

????when did we agree on a sleepover????

“hEY YOU UP FOR A ROAD TRIP TO COMMEMORATE OUR LAST SUMMER AS HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS?”

“uh-”

“come on, dear y/n, it’s not like you were planning on doing anything else”

you eyes narrow

becaUSE DID THEY JUST ASSUME YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO

i mean,,,, they’re right tho,,,,, all you’ve done all summer is laze at home because it’s way too hot outside,,,,,,,,but,,,,,,,,,,,,

“can,,,,, you even drive tho”

“hahHAHAHAHAHAH DONGHYUCK? DRIVE?”

“i even don’t trust him with my fish what makes you think i trust him with the wheel”

“okAY JUST BECAUSE I FAILED MY DRIVING TEST TWICE DOESN’T MEAN YOU GUYS CAN BULLY ME”

fuck no one’s sane here

but what’d you really expect from two jocks and two art geeks

the same jocks and geeks that pushed you back into your own home and watched as you packed

wipes away tear

“why am i always forced to do dumb shit with you guys”

“whAT DO YOU MEAN????”

and so you were pushed out the door after having a word with your parents

who only agreed to let you go cause they deemed renjun trust worthy

because he’s the only one who at least acts normal around your parents

“whoSE CAR ARE WE EVEN U S I N G- oh”

right on the curb parked mark’s old and stuttering blue car.

on which he sat in the driver’s seat, trying to get the old thing to play music

“are you sure we’re not gonna die”

“nope, but it’s the only car we have available”

jeno whispered in response, throwing your bag in the trunk

“ah, y/n, i see you’ve been successfully dragged into hyuck’s dumb idea”

donghyuck climbs into the passenger seat next to mark,

flipping his friend off in the proccess

“you are all here because we are all friends and we love each other”

you, being squashed in the back seat:

“no - not really”

“wtf jaemin there’s another row of seats in the back stOP TRYING TO PUSH ME OUT”

“BUT I WANNA SIT WITH Y/N????”

“fucking donghyuck”

“WHY ME???? WHAT HAVE I DONE????”

wow great start to your trip 10/10

picking up chenle and jisung literally took five seconds

they lived next to each to each other

and it only took one excited nod from chenle for jisung to tag along

and that’s the story of how you ending up being in a shotty blue car with seven teenage boys

miles from home on an empty ass road

screaming the lyrics to micheal jackson songs into the heat (thanks to dj haechan)

at least mark got the speakers to work again

“wherE ARE WE EVEN GOING???”

“IDK LOL”

“WAIT WHATTHEFUCJ-”

at one point, jisung and chenle at the back decided to sit up onto the car, with their legs on their seats

“I’M PRETTY SURE THAT’S ILLEGAL AND DANGEROUS”

“yOlO!!1!1!!!1”

“how the fuck do i disown them”

“push them off”

everything was going swimmingly

until the car breaks down in the middle of the road

“i knew this was gonna happen sighs”

mark then jumps out to check the hood

then immediately notices something wrong rip

“hyuck, pass me the box in the glove box.”

“you’re prepared???? does this happen often or????”

so mark tries to fix the car in the blistering heat with renjun nagging beside him, holding an umbrella to hide the two of them from the sun

whilst the rest of you start playing uno on the back of the car

multiple times, not once, buT MULTIPLE TIMES

CHENLE HAS LOOKED AT YOUR CARDS

HE’S DOESN’T EVEN TRY DEFEND HIMSELF WHEN YOU POINT IT OUT

WHAT A LITTLE SNAKE

“FOR FUCKS SAKE ZHONG CHENLE IF U DON’T STOP I SWEAR-”

jisung won every round

which made the rest of you bond trying to break his win streak

“jeno do you have a plus four to screw him up with”

“i only have a green plus two if that helps”

and that kinda goes on until mark lee emerges from behind the raised hood, telling y’all to give the car a push

“yeah just a second, jisung’s finally losing-”

“hA YOU THOUGHT”

THROWS DOWN FIVE NINES

INFURIATING

everyone grumbles as they hop off and start pushing

“lets just put our rage into pushing this stupid car”

which ends up moving easier than y’all thought it would

so the seven of you stumble a little when the car started moving by itself

mark nearly drove away himself lmao

made the group of you chase after the car for a moment lmAO

you wished he did drive off though because the second the car starting moving with everyone back on,

he yells,

“lET’S GET IT”

“siri where’s the nearest bus stop to get home”

“HSEGFSUEF NO I’M SORRY :C”

then as the day slowly got darker,

your screams didn’t die down lol

the latest feud was over chocolate vs vanilla

and you honestly think about how you got stuck in a group of dumbasses

“remember when hyuck hated jaemin and jeno back in freshman year lol”

“nO SHUT UP RENJUN”

“LMAO DIDN’T HYUCK DISLIKE THEM BECAUSE THEY CHUCKED A BASKETBALL AT HIS HEAD”

“what you still remember that? i’m sorry hyuck :’cccccc”

“NO JENO I’VE FORGIVEN YOU AGES AGO- FUCKING RENJUN-”

the group of dumbasses did make you laugh though

so maybe it wasn’t so bad

night then came and the conversation finally started to tone down

mark pulls to the side of the road

“let’s call it a night, yeah?”

the rest of you mumble in agreement

“our last summer as high schoolers huh”

you hum, running your hands through jaemin’s freshly dyed candyfloss hair

“but will anything change even if you guys graduate?”

chenle asks from the back, head on jisung’s shoulder

“not much, i don’t think. we just won’t see each other as much.”

it was a clear night, and the stars were brighter than ever

everyone was staring up at the night sky, enjoying the cool breeze

“we always have summer right?”

a round of agreement sounded before jeno cuts through-

“does this mean we’re going on another road trip next year?”

“way to ruin the mood jeno”

“oh please no, i don’t think i can handle another one with you dumb fucks”

lies

you loved every moment with them

“this is a cute moment and all, but can jaemin get off of us now?”

renjun asked, referring to the long boy sprawled on top of jeno, renjun and you

“i was planning on sleeping in this position tho-”

he didn’t get to finish his sentence before the three of you pushed him off

mark chuckled before leaving his seat to pull the hood over the open seats

“good night”

you were shook awake by mark the next day, greeted with a sky that wasn’t even awake

“what’s going on?”

“fancy watching the sunrise?”

turns out, mark woke up earlier than the rest of you and drove to an empty beach to watch the sunrise together :’)))))))

you stumbled out of the car, legs soft from sitting for too long, finding the rest of the boys sitting on the hood of the car and on the concrete in front

donghyuck pats the space next to him and you hop on top of the creaky car

“is this safe”

“probably not”

“ o h “

it’s all quiet before the sun starts coming up

then gasps were heard and wishes were made

and it was all heartwarming :”)))))

before all of you made a dash to the cold ass water

trying to chuck mark in

“whY ME????? I DROVE Y’ALL HERE”

“YOU’RE LEAVING THAT’S WHY”

“SBRGOSBEGOSBAE??????”

S P L O S H

chenle was screaming the entire time

then one idiot cough hyuck cough accidentally chucks sand into mark’s blue car

which then leads to mark pulling the squad into a self wash station

“come one guys let’s wash this car together!!1!1! wE’rE aLl In ThIs ToGeThEr”

“wow i suddenly dont know you”

then some idiot coUGH HYUCK COUGH starts chucking suds at everyone

AND JAEMIN’S LOWKEY TRIGGERED BECAUSE NOT HIS NEW HAIR

SO HE FIRES BACK

AND RENJUN WHO WANTED TO HOSE THE SUDS OUT OF HIS HAIR ENDED UP FIRING WATER AT CHENLE’S FACE

EVERYONE STARTED LAUGHING LIKE NO TOMORROW AND YOU GOT A GOOD VIDEO OF IT LMAO

AND EVERYTHING JUST ENDED UP WITH EVERYONE GETTING A FREE SHOWER AT THE STATION

and renjun getting pinned to the car by jeno but u h 👀👀👀👀👀👀

y’all end up drying yourselves by sitting under the hand dryers in the bathroom

“at least we don’t have to worry about showering”

“hyuck you started this shut up”

hopping back into the small car, the group decides to start heading back

mainly because your snack supplies were running low

but also because you don’t think the car’s gonna survive any longer

but mostly because snacks were running out

“chenle ate all the fucking pocky”

“nO JISUNG DID”

“WTF-”

“i love best friends throwing each other under the bus”

taking a shorter route home, you stop at a basketball court to move a around for a while

“why is jaemin and jeno on one team, they’re the star basketballers of our school tf i call bs”

“you literally picked your own team-”

nomin vs the rest of u fuckers

no surprise, nomin won

now you guys owe them mcnuggets

“hA SU C C”

“let’s leave them behind quiCK TO THE CAR”

mark: trips over own laces running

in no time, you were in front of your own house again

unlike before though, you lowkey didn’t want to leave your friends

“i still can’t believe that we ran out of snacks in a day and a half-”

“blame chenle”

“hEY-”

renjun pats your shoulder as jeno and jaemin go get your bag for you

“we’ll be living and sleeping at mark’s place until he leaves. you’re welcome to join”

mark from the driver’s seat: what.

and as they drive away with mark questioning when this was decided,

you head back inside to restock you bag, leaving for mark’s house just a few hours later

when high school started up again, you weren’t surprised to see renjun having chensung in headlock in front of your locker

whilst hyuck just whispers-

“right in front of my goddamn salad” at the sight

creaking open your locker, the first thing you do is stick up a group photo taken on your trip

nomin lean on your shoulders, craning their neck to look at the photo

“we look dumb”

the picture was taken by mark setting a timer on his phone then running to join the picture

everyone was lined up, leaning against the old blue car against the sunrise

but mark bumped into haechan who bumped into jeno, who bumped into jaemin etc etc

and the picture ended up coming out with everyone slanting as y’all fell in a domino effect

but the smiles on your faces were precious :’))))))))

“i think it’s cute”

you say, closing your locker, ready to face another year with these fuckers.

hi i’m apri and i present to you yet another unedited piece of shit :’)

listening to the dreamies’ album while writing this made me really emo about mark’s graduation so it got really deep in the middle im s o r r y

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