#girl. no one thinks he’s right for leaving nada in hell. he doesn’t even think he’s right | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchlyboo · 3 years

Text

Definitely, maybe.

Part five: The one who belongs to someone else.

Introduction. Part one. Part two. Part three. Part four.

Paring: Latina!reader x Logan Lerman x Tom Holland x Ben Hardy x Timothee Chalamet x Pedro Pascal x Michael B. Jordan

Warnings: Swearing, angst, misspellings, some Spanish, me learning how to write properly, and NY stuff that I've learned from movies that we all agree to pretend are real.

Word count: 6.4 k

a/n: You been asking for smut, I know, I know, I just wanted to introduce you to all the boys first, and we're getting there, just one more ahead. Also, I'm working on a masterlist because we are getting too many parts already.

All body types and skin tones friendly. You can also enjoy it as a no Hispanic reader. Constructive feedback and misspellings correction is always welcome.

Red and blue lights flash the driving mirror.

—No, no, no, por favor que no sea a mi—You beg to the sky looking at the patrol that is asking you to park, or someone else, there's a lot of cars in this part of the city, there's a big chance is the panic who's controlling your senses.—Dios, mi abuela fue a la iglesia cada domingo de su vida y nunca te pidió nada, please let me have some of her divina recompensa.—But that's not how it works, you end up parking with just a few seconds to think what to say. There's a perfect explication of why you are driving a car that is not yours in the middle of the night and smelling like a minibar.

Then this ridiculous thought comes to your mind, you look expensive, you've never seen the daughter of a senator but you must be close to it, it would make you less of a feminist if you just use your attributes? Ugh, you feel sick just to think about it but don't have enough money to pay a fine, and the constant paranoia of being chased all the time as an immigrant will only get stronger.

You pull down your dress a little so your neckline can do its job but you regret it immediately, and you're pretty sure you look more like an expensive prostitute who stole the car of his lover than some influential men's daughter.

—License and registration.—You hear him say when he approaches your window. You don't like this but you have to play the dumb tourist, the pretty foreign girl that is too stupid to be dangerous, with the look you have tonight it shouldn't be hard. But damn you hate cops, any uniformed man that works for the government is your eternal enemy, and you don't know how long you could keep the nice dumb Latina game before spit on his face.

—There's something wrong, officer? ...You?!—Your sexy and fake high voice is ruined when you see the face of the man who stopped you. This night couldn't get worse.

—Wait, what happened with the party?—Evan interrupts you while you finish some notes for work, little remainders for later when you don't have an eleven years old kid running around you, he's not usually this energic and you have to blame yourself for that, you're describing a life of excess and eccentric fun, something you let behind so many years ago that your own son doesn't know even a bit of it.

—Ugh, a nightmare doesn't worth telling.—You remember vaguely most of it but what keeps fresh in your mind is bad enough to don't want to bring it back.

—But if Timothée is my dad I have to know the important things, including the bad stuff.—Sounds perfectly reasonable and that's what makes you groan at him. Sometimes you feel blessed that your kid is better than you in any possible way, and sometimes you want to kill his brain with video games and reality shows like the rest of the parents.

—Ok, cool, but I'll keep all the +18 content for myself, so this part of the story might be blurry for you.—It kinda is for you anyway.

You should’ve known this night was cursed, you had a feeling because a) your earring fell off at the same time Timothée texted you to give you the party address and say he can't pick you up. And b) he won’t pick you up. Your mother would say that’s reason enough to not go, a real gentleman wouldn’t make you go to an unknown place in the middle of the night on your own in a city like this. But you decide to ignore it because you are a modern woman and because it’s worth it. It better be.

The outfit must be something special. You always take your time to choose what to wear, even if just another regular day, and since this isn't the case you thought about it for hours, that made your mind busy enough to not thinking about Tom and the whole love confession. He texted you saying he'll come for you to go to class together on Monday, which is completely impractical because he's way closer than you but is progress and you're going to take it.

You wanted to ask for Sheep's opinion but you thought she might not care, has been a few days since she started acting strange like she's bothered just to see you breathe. You want to blame his boyfriend to take all her time and attention from you but is probably just her new job, she got a small role in a Netflix show, and even when you're so happy for her, that's the event that has changed her into someone completely different. But you give her time, stress can do bad things to people.

The winner is the exact copy you made of the black and white striped dress Cameron Diaz wore in "The Mask" beautiful, classy, and sexy enough without being too scandalous, not that you have any problem with that, but this isn't the occasion, you don't want to feel like you're being too much or too little, just enough, it's supposed to be easy, right? you were born for this. Just adding some big shiny earrings you got on a thrift shop that look like real diamonds and you're ready, not that you own any to compare. Red lipstick, dark eyes, and a messy bun to get that disinterested pitch every look needs.

Getting there wasn't a problem, you were in the rich part of the city, everyone know who, where and what just to brag about it. The excitement is growing with every second, you check your makeup like thirty times in the elevator and send texts to your mom just to let her know where you are, and because you have to share that moment with someone and you are limited of friends these days.

Timothée opens the door with red eyes, drunk, high, or somewhere in between, you know then you were right about the bad feeling. He jumps on you to kiss you and no matter how much you try to explain the delicacy of your lipstick, he does it anyway, leaving a taste of alcohol and shrimps in your mouth. Taking you by the waist he walks you to a group of people you don't know while you're trying harder to fix the red color of your mouth without a mirror.

—Here is the companion I bought, look at her, that's how five grand per hour look like.—They laughed but you were too disoriented to process all the things he said, it was supposed to be a joke? if it is, why isn't he correcting? Instead, his hand goes straight to your ass and presses it to get you closer to him.

—I'm actually an intern in the costume designer department of the new version of "Sense and Sensibility".—You wanted to mention your recent promotion to hairstylist and makeup artist but that might be too pretentious. Anyway, they don't seem to care what you are or not, in fact, they don't even see you, all eyes are on Timothée

—Oh, well, is easy to forget when you're paying them—All laughs again. Who is this person? Who are all these people, actually? You recognize some influencers, a few cast members but there's no sign of the director, other main actors, not even his co-star. You feel like an extra in a movie where someone will be killed in a luxury party, hopefully not you. You take his hand from your body and clear your throat.—I'm just joking my love, she looks stunning, isn't she? I’ll get you a drink.

He leaves and the group of people surrounding you suddenly dissipated like boiling water, you were on your own again and despite some judgmental gazes is like you’re not there, you’re sure you could just take your dress off and throw it to someone’s face and unless Tim says something about it, no one would care. You’re there as his companion, an ornament, and that’s not enough to earn their attention because it’s too obvious you’re the one in turn.

You walk to the only window no one is smoking and check your phone, you know, the thing you do when you pretend you have important issues to attend, but no, you end reading some old messages, pictures, texting your mom of how much fun you’re having at the party, and somehow you check your filed Facebook messages to find Logan’s name. You cover the screen so fast you hurt your nail, his name is enough to make you tremble like a Chihuahua, you haven’t talked to him since that night, you know from his sister he lives in the house he bought for you two and he’s having the happiest life without you. You want to believe that because that means you took the right decision but deep inside… no, you can’t be that person, you want him to be happier than ever.

You find the guts to open the message, and you read as slowly as is humanly possible. “My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health…” Dios, just Logan could start a message like that, your smile is almost too big to fit in your face so you bit your nail to cover it a little. “I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you’ll be happy to know…”

—That’s a fucking long-ass message.—Tim appears behind you and takes your phone from your hand, spilling some of his drink on your dress in the process. Apparently, he's been there long enough to read part of the message.

—Give it back.—You command in the most severe voice you have, your magical moment got ruined and you remember the hole of hell you are.

—"My angel, I hope this finds you in perfect health. I recently found one of the human body drawings you made for me to study, you must know I still use them now and then"—Timothée starts reading the message, and even when no one is close enough to hear it and you don’t really care about this people’s opinion, that’s not for anyone to read, that’s one of the few parts of your life you treasure the most and you’re not ready to get over it.—You little slut, are you cheating on me with a med student?

—Give it to me.—You repeat trying to take the phone from his hand but he’s faster and walks away putting it out of your reach.

—"I meticulously preserve them, I certainly know any piece of art made by you will be priceless in the near future"—You don’t want to hear it coming from his drunk mocking voice, so you try to ignore what he’s saying and put more effort on chasing the phone.—Should I had kept the jeans where you left the wet spot on? I didn’t know you were an artist, my love.

—Timothée, por el amor de Dios.—Now you're trying to climb him, it wouldn't be that hard to take him down, he's skinny and you're fierce. That's what you thought but he's not moving even with you are on top of his shoulder and his opposite long arm keeps the phone away from you.

—Who is this guy and why is he talking to my girl like this?—You see the olive eyes getting darker and the tone of his voice went deeper than you thought he could do. You desist from taking the phone, you know the bullies love the attention, maybe that's exactly what he wants and give it to him just makes it worse.

—I'm not your girl.—You claim fixing up your dress having enough of games, and you have no reason to keep worrying about losing your job, the filming is done, and apparently your relationship with him too. You don't care about any of that anymore, just want to read Logan's text.

Even behind all the alcohol and the eyes injected in blood thanks for who knows what kind of drug, you can see the disappointment and anger, but it's not a broken heart, Is the hissy fit of a child that loses his balloon and now everyone will pay for it, especially you.

—Are you sure about that?—You can see him swallow hard, almost looking vulnerable, but his voice is defiant and threatening to prove you wrong. He just has to stretch out his arm to reach the open window with your phone in hand, his intentions are clear and the only thing you can do is raise your hands as a reflex.—You were mine the moment you put a foot on my trailer, and I don't fucking share my stuff.—Before you can say a word he drops the phone from the fourth floor.

You know is senseless but you find yourself running out of the party and going to search the device, using it also as an excuse to get away from that place. This is the first time someone makes you feel meaningless, you know the famous' world is cold and lacking in empathy but this is ridiculous, they're a bunch of parasites fed by attention and power. By Timothée.

The screen is crashed and the rest of it is probably beyond repair, not that you're surprised, its life is longer than you've been in the country and you admit you should have replaced it much earlier but you're not the kind to throw away things that still work. However, is not the phone you are worried about, not as much as what it contains.

—That was obsolete anyway, I'll get you a better one.—You didn't know he was following you, his voice interrupts your self-wailing. He sounds calmer and a little embarrassed, but not enough to say sorry, you don't think he's capable of saying it.

You shake your head and start to walk away without a word, you don't want anything from him, not materially, at least.

—Don't make a scandal out of it, it's just a phone!—He yells erasing any trace of regret in his voice. He doesn't see the reaction he expected and that's when he runs after you and with a hand on your upper arm pulls you back, you gasped for the sudden bluntness.—That annoying habit you have of leaving when I'm talking to you.

You push him away with all the strength you have, which resulted in him almost falling on the ground.

—I don't care about the stupid phone!—You finally break, but sadly is not as satisfactory as you thought it would be.—You are mean, vain, arrogant and the worst part is that you enjoy being this despicable human because you have absolutely no consequences to it. Everyone around you just accepts it and I feel so sorry for you because the only possible way for you to fill the void inside is to be surrounded by that crowd of mules licking your steps—To your surprise, he has nothing to say, he's just standing there with no facial expression, whatever he feels is easily covered by his years of experience acting, even drunk.—I can't give you that and it's obvious they don't want me either. What am I even doing here?—You ask yourself thinking where would be the best way of getting a cab, is a rich zone, must be easy.

—Everything is better when you're around—His voice is thin and fragile, you have to process what he said three times in your head to understand his words. You're not willing to look at him yet.—You're not like the others.

—Pure bullshit. You love to repeat that misogynist discourse of girls being in a certain way because is easier than be responsible for the people you choose to be—You were hugging yourself the whole time, is a cold night, but not enough to be bothersome, you enjoy Fall weather—You got me for a moment, I give you that, you fooled me but I'm too tired of guessing what version of you is real—When you return your gaze at him, he doesn't try to hide the guilt anymore, but there's still haughtiness in there.—Now, if you don't mind Mr. Chalamet, I need to get a cab.

—No, you came with me, you leave with me.—There's no trace of alcohol in his voice anymore, a good scolding is enough to put you sober, you know that thanks to your mom. Oh god, you're becoming her.

—You didn't bring me here, gigantic head—You look at him and put your hand in front of him with the palm up. He stares at it for several seconds before put his own on it—Not that!—You shake it and start looking inside his jeans pockets until you feel the metal of his key car.—You can't drive and I have to get home. You'll find it in the studio tomorrow.

That's how you ended with a car way more luxurious than you expected, driving so slowly and carefully that the police stopped you. What a night, but at this point, you couldn't care less about anything that is not that message, is been months and you can't get over it, over him. Not even Ben moans, Tom's comforting arms, or fight with a movie star at 3:00 am. is enough to get him out of your mind.

—So is true, you don't wear anything that hasn't appeared in a movie, huh?—Michael B. Jordan is leaning on the car window with a mocking smile and a sparkle of satisfaction that you would love to punch but his uniform keeps you in line, where you come from police is not equal to justice, most of the times is oppression.

—You know where it's from?—That was kind of comforting, no one at the party noticed. Not that you care.

—Is The Mask, not some Adam Hitchcock's blurb.—He smiles and even when you really don't like him, it's nice to be with a familiar face, you are really tired of running away, scaping for problems that are a result of your null capacity to deal with emotions. Ugh, what a word.

—Is Alfred Hitchcock, actually.—You didn't want to sound priggish, but you correct him with no time to stop yourself, an old habit.

—You got me, smarty, you know more than movies than me. Where did you get this car?—You feel really nervous even when you got this legally, you have your documents and license on time and he's being nice enough to not want to run away in a car that you technically borrowed for yourself.

—It's not mine.—No shit, Sherlock.

—No shit, Sherlock, I was asking where did you steal it.—You wanted to laugh but there's something with the uniform that just doesn't allow you to be yourself.—Are you drunk?

—No, no, fuck, no, it's just, I don't feel comfortable with cops—He raises his eyebrows but that is his only reaction.—Listen, is my boss' car, I'm doing the favor to take it to the studio, and I'm really nervous because is fucking expensive, he's an asshole, I haven't drive un almost a year because you people only use cars if you're rich or your work and lives depend on it. I'm starving.—The last part came out of nowhere, you haven't eaten anything in almost 13 hours, maybe that's the actual reason why you are that moody.

He doesn't answer right away, takes his time to look at you, what makes you blush, he's really close, closer than he's ever been. Does he smell like green apples? Not the actual apples, the artificial smell they had given to them.

—Get out of the car.—Oh no, is he arresting you? Is he finally taking revenge for every time you make fun of his Hawaiian-type shirts? You know you have too much karma accumulated and a cop making you pay for it when you don’t believe in their sense of justice is kinda poetic, and evil.

You don’t want to discuss with someone with a taser, gun, pepper spray, or who knows what else. So you take your bag, the key car, and get off defeated.

—My turn is almost over, I’ll take you to eat something, c’mon.—He walks back to his patrol and you stay still for a few seconds still processing his words, you must look totally devastated for him to offer that. How you see it you have two options, go with him and spend an awkward hour with a person you don’t like or risk getting a fine, Tim can pay it, it’s not a big deal but you don’t want to owe him even the minimal thing.

You get in the car holding on to your bag to feel calmer, this is the first time you’re fully alone with him since you found him half-naked in your kitchen. Those defined abs may never leave your brain.

—Are you cold?—He interrupts your thoughts with his question, you didn’t notice you were shaking. He looks for something under his seat and gives you an NYPD hoodie, you hold it doubting your next move, is not like you don’t appreciate the gesture but it’d be easier to take if it doesn’t get that words printed—Is clean.—He says chuckling when he sees the way you’re looking at it.

—Is not that, just, you know, fuck the police, defund the NYPD, demilitarize the pigs and that stuff.—You say putting on the hoodie anyway, is a cold night and you won't help the institution wearing their propaganda.

—Yeah, I get it, but you can't change the system just from within.—You decide is not the right moment to have a political conversation so you shrug your shoulders and discreetly smell the hoodie, a mix of cologne, green apples, and cheap soap, you know is cheap because you buy the exact same, do its job.

—I'm in the mood for pizza.—You say casually, making a deal to yourself to try to be his friend, he is a small part of your life anyway.—Domino's is open at this time of the night?

—Tell me you're not consuming that shit, dear Lord, you been here for how long, two years? I can't believe your idea of a good pizza is Domino's. Stella hasn't taught you anything?—You're surprised by the level of condescension with a pizza and you mirror his smile, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Your school program includes people from all around the world so you don't have that much experience with actual new yorkers. Logan is rich, so he doesn't really count.

—What's wrong with Domino's? I don't buy much street food, is cheaper to buy things on the food market. Besides, all pizza is good.—The mention of Sheep makes you a little tense, so you don't say anything about it, is not a conversation to have with him.

—Don't blaspheme in the patrol, I just washed it—You laugh, finally, after a terrible weekend. You can see why she likes him, there is something about his voice, smile, and his eyes that feel... calm, like watching Friends after a marathon of Lord of the Rings.—There are rules to survive this city, and I'm surprised you have made it this far without a proper guide.

—Chill out Mr. Miyagi, I'm not from the jungle, and I've learned a lot by myself.—He gives you a lopsided grin as a request, and you put your fingers up ready to enlist your acquired knowledge.—Walk fast, like you're about to be stabbed, something that actually happened to me, with an umbrella—He nods and laughs being related to it.—Number two, no small talk, no one cares, even if they ask. Number three, if you look a stranger in the eye, especially a homeless person, you have essentially invited them to approach you.

—Number four, we never eat from Domino's, Papa John's, Pizza hut, or any other chain restaurant, only trucks and local places are allowed.—You roll your eyes but you get the point, is just, again, you're not much into street food, it doesn't taste like home and the only way to eat food like that is preparing it yourself.

—Fine, fuck capitalism, let's support local places—You make an obvious fake enthusiastic tone but he nods proudly.—Number five, you don't need a car to live here, not even know how to drive. I would have successfully avoided this police brutality if I had followed that rule.

—For someone who is about to eat for free, you whine too much.—He parks the car and gives you a sign to go with him. You see him go to a pizza truck and order, you realize at the moment how ridiculous you look, so before chasing him you let your hair down, take your huge earrings off, and roll up the skirt of your dress until your mid-thighs letting the hoodie cover the rest, and clean the red lipstick with a Kleenex from your bag. Now you look more like a college person and not a rich girl who just got seized.

—Here you go.—He says giving you a slice as big as your head, looks oily and spreading cheese everywhere. Perfect.

—Is it vegan?—You ask receiving the food with an obnoxious face. His kind grind turned into a dread expression and you give him your second laugh of the day.—I'm kidding.

You are about to give it a bite when you see passing next to you a huge rat with the exact same slice as yours in its mouth, running into the dark of the night happy to have obtained the food for its family. They use to scare you when you just moved out but now they're like any other pigeon in the sky.

—Rule... whatever, a rat with a slice of pizza is a symbol for good luck, congratulations.—He pets your head awkwardly, not sure if you're ok with the physical contact, which, surprisingly, you are.

—I see rats with bagels all the time.—Pizza and bagels, that's the main culinary wonders of the city, you like it, not much to object but is hard not to compare it with your home's food.

—Is easy to confuse a rough diamond with a simple rock.—You both eat in silence, enjoying the mixed sounds of the city and all the different smells, the whole situation feels like one of those lofi music videos. You remember thinking about moments like this before getting the scholarship, what would it be like to feel normal in the city of your dreams.

—How do you know that much about movies?—He asks after a few minutes when you take a break to drink something, that pizza is not easy to take.

—When I was a kid a spent much time on my own, so my dad bought me a used DVD reproducer, and at the corner of my neighborhood was this movie store where you could buy 5 pirate movies for one dollar. They were blurred, with a terrible sound, and most of the time with the wrong movie inside but they helped me to not feel lonely. Eventually, the store closed but I've watched everything in it by then—He gives you a warm smile, you never told that story to anyone, not because is too intimate to share, but because no one asked, it doesn't sound like a question with a complex answer.—Anyway, I watched Marie Antoinette when I was like eight, and I decided at that moment that however is done I wanted to be part of that magic.

—You hear all kind of people chasing dreams in this city but is hard to find someone who actually deserves it.—You blush and you cover it with your hair but the smile on your voice is impossible to hide.

—Is that a compliment? You must really want me to like you to date Sheep.—You laugh but you can see his face tense, so you can guess your friend has been busy breaking everyone’s hearts.

—She hasn’t returned my calls in three days so I don’t think there’s much you can do—You nod, all this time you thought he was the reason she is ignoring you but apparently you are both in the same boat.—But yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, what I should have said is, Marie Antoinette at eight? I can see where all the damage started.

You gasp and throw your napkin at his head, he easily catches it without even looking at it and laughs; that was unexpectedly attractive.

—Why a cop?—You ask, not sure where that question came from, maybe you authentically want to know more about him, he just bought you food, and honestly, that's the easiest way to win your trust.

—I wanted to be an actor when I was a child. This is the city of opportunities so you may think that if you want to chase the big wonder, this is the perfect place to do it. But I grow up surrounded by these people giving their entire lives to get something just given to one in a million so I decided is not worth it. For many years I wondered what I wanted to do with my life and the answer was really clear, my dad was a cop, a good one, or that’s what people say. I don’t remember much because he died when I was seven—Conversations about death are not your strength, everything can turn out uncomfortable if you choose the wrong words.—It might not be that glamorous but if my father died for it, it surely worth it.

—For the good ones.—You raise your almost empty can of Coke and he does the same with a grin that warms the cold weather of the night.

—For the good ones.

The next two hours passed like minutes talking about anything and everything. It just felt right to talk freely with him, you didn’t feel judged for your awkward family moments or your random thoughts, not even once because he told you his too. At some point of the night he borrowed you his gym sweatpants, any of you could just suggest going home but that was off the table, end that peace just for weather reasons would have been a tragedy.

—I read Timothée Chalamet is a dick. Is that true?—The mention of his name remains you of your life and everything that comes with it, including the middle semester project that you must dedicate your entire day, one that is about to start.—What, you can’t talk about it?

—He is a complete dick with no sense of privacy or human decency—And when he interrupts a deep kiss to look at your eyes, smile, and caress your chin, you feel like a character of his Victorian movies. But he didn’t ask that.—But the next week he’ll be no longer my problem.

—That’s why we have rule twenty-three, don’t ask for a picture of a celebrity unless they are local—You have heard about it before but you haven’t got the opportunity to decide if you like that rule because the only celebrities you have seen are from work and that club’s party opening.—That means you’ll be free to go to the Stephen Kings’ movie projection there will be for Halloween.

You don’t know if that was a proposition, a suggestion, or just a simple recommendation, and whatever it is, you noticed he was nervous to ask. Is it wrong? It feels wrong like you were betraying your friend accepting to hang out with his boyfriend without her consent. But he didn’t ask you to go with him so is safe to answer.

—Yeah, I guess—You get a moment, four seconds top, where you shared innocent, curious, and tenting gazes like three graders in the playground. And that’s the further you will allow yourself to go.—We better leave, if the sunlight touch me I’ll turn into dust.

You get off the car hood and go to the side door, but this time he opens it for you. You give him a “seriously?” Look, receiving a little push in your arm as a response.

↬☀︎︎

A distant voice asks you to wake up, softly whispers that turn into caresses on your cheek, your eyes feel so heavy, even when you are well aware of your environment your eyelids keep closed.

—Good morning, Princess—This is the first time Tom calls you that way, the change from silly nicknames to Princess is enough to get you out of hibernation. He is squatting beside your bed, his smile is the promise of a better day, and chasing that idea you give him one small back.—Your mom has been texting me desperately all day, she said you're not answering her calls and is worried.

—Fuck, my phone broke last night, can I call her from yours?—That’s an oversimplification but in the search for a better story, that's what you decide to believe and tell. Tom nods and gives it to you, he looks happy, beyond that, this is the first time you see that subtle blush on his cheeks and the eyes sparkling. You sit on the bed next to his body looking for your mom's number, slowly he moves between your legs, you have shorts and an oversized Back To The Future t-shirt, you got took the time to prepare yourself to bed last night and keep Michael’s clothes inside your closet to wash them, like The Tell-Tale Heart, a little innocent secret who feels dirty somehow

The conversations with your mom are always long, nostalgic and the tears are hard to hold for both parts; after a long life sharing almost every day with her, her absence never feels smaller. But this time is different, Tom is exploring the bare skin under your knee with his warm hands, asking for permission with curious eyes, and when you don’t object to the touch the British boy keeps his exploring mission cautiously, giving special attention to see your eyes in case something change. Is time to hang up when he gives a long and loving kiss to your knee, the less erotic kiss you could think of but so intimate to bristle your skin.

—Not nice to touch someone's daughter when is talking to her mom.—The protest of your voice loses strength at every word, he heard that and just straight his back to reach your face, the gap is almost extinct.

—We're okay, she likes me.—He assures holding your hips and pulling you a bit to him. Tom looks very comfortable with the new closeness authorization, you like it but are not very sure about it yet, most of you still think of him as your best friend.

—Did she tell you that? Are you talking with my mom behind my back?—You laugh when he does, almost like nothing changed.

—She adores me, I swear, I'm invited to Christmas, you know?—You're not surprised, she invites everyone, Logan was too but the first time he got family plans and didn't make it to the second.

—You should go, maybe we can do...—His lips touch yours in a peak at the middle phrase and makes you forget what you were about to say.—Man, the audacity to interrupt...—Then he kisses you again, deeply, using his tongue to taste your inner lip and his hands holding your shirt in fists. That's a twist of events.

—Is that ok?—You hear a weak whisper coming out of his voice but you got so mesmerized on his lips that decided to ignore it and kiss him back instead. He responds to your touch and starts to lean over you to make you lay on the bed.

Jesucristo bendito, is this happening? like, actually happening? you must look like trash, you barely took all the makeup from the night before and didn't take a shower, you start to get so worried about smells, feelings, and what that'll mean to your already too much-spoiled friendship.

However, the time of doubts is done when Sheep starts yelling in the living room, you both reacted running to the sound and looking for your blonde friend. Michael is there but doesn't look like the same as a few hours ago, is annoyed and tired for the lack of sleep, a look that doesn't match him at all.—What did you do?—You ask him fast assuming she's mad for something he did.

—Just in time, the star of the movie, I was wondering how much it will take you to be the protagonist of this.—That is Sheep's voice talking about you and what must be your heart breaking from her words.

—Excuse me?—You wish your tone would be less savage but you can't help respond the same way she did.

—Logan wasn't enough, then you got the drummer, fucking Timothée Chalamet, Tom and now my boyfriend. I'm so glad I didn't leave you alone with my dad or I'd be calling you mom now.—You have no words to that, Michael doesn't even dare to look at you, he must have told her something she misunderstood, but Sheep, or well, Stella is saying things she actually thinks and keep to herself. Tom walks in front of you whispering things to her to calm her down but she is not looking at him, you didn't tell her anything about Tom either so he's taking responsibility this time.—Go ahead and fuck the whole city, Michael if that please you but you're crossing the line with Tom and you know that, you're going to ruin him as you ruin every man that enters in your life.—She has a very you moment having the last word of the dispute and getting out of the apartment with Michael going after her but not putting much effort in it.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Taglist:

@eridanuswave @cjand10 @deluxeplanteater @rorodendra @navs-bhat @coxxxxxpi @leviosatothestars

Thanks for all the love and support, if you have opinions, suggestions, or want to be part of the tag list (Or don’t want to be part anymore) let me know, I appreciate every message.

#ben hardy imagine #michael b jordan fc #tom holland x reader #timothee chalamet fanfiction #pedro pascal #logan lerman fc #definitely maybe #fluff #angst #timothee chalamet #Tom Holland #Ben Hardy

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 133

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,000ish

Summary: Tony finally comes home, but that doesn’t make the problems go away. (Please read the note at the end)

Y/N completely unconscious for a whole 24 hours. The remaining team members never wandered far from her side, too scared to lose another person. When Y/N finally awoke, she knew what had happened. She could feel the change inside her.

“They’re gone…” She croaked, looking at Steve with teary eyes. “The Stones are gone…”

“What do you mean, Y/N?” Steve questioned. “Like you don’t have your powers anymore?”

“I mean, they’re gone.”

“Y/N, I think you’re tired,” Thor said. “If your abilities have left you, then you must be exhausted.”

“No. You have to believe me.”

“Okay,” Bruce interrupted. “I think we need to leave her to rest some more.”

Y/N knew that they didn’t believe her. But she could feel it. The Infinity Stones had been destroyed. Her abilities were gone.

~~~

Y/N was alone in the med-bay when the building began trembling ever so slightly. Concerned as it continued, slowly getting worse, Y/N slid out of bed. The others were not too far in front of her as they all quickly headed out to the yard. Looking up as they all continued to walk, they noticed a ship being carried by a glowing Carol. She carefully landed the space craft, looking at a new shaven Steve with a nod.

Y/N froze, heart pounding wildly in her chest as the stairs of the space craft lowered. Tony, being supported by Nebula, walked out. She couldn’t stop the tears that began to cascade down her cheeks. Tony was alive. Yes, it was clear that he was barely alive, but there he was.

Steve ran up to Tony, taking him from Nebula to help him stand. Tony gripped Steve’s arm as he joined him.

“I couldn’t stop him,” Tony told Steve.

“Neither could I,” Steve responded.

“I lost the kid.”

“Tony, we lost.”

“Is, uh…? Y/N…”

“I’m right here,” Y/N said, running up and embracing him.

Tony practically melted into her arms, kissing her head and Y/N cried. “It’s okay.”

“You’re alive…”

“You’re alive.”

Y/N and Steve helped Tony inside. Bruce immediately got an IV in him and told him that he needed serious rest and food. While Tony sat at the table, his insisted on knowing everything. So the team began explain as a holographic casualty report listed the names and faces of those they lost.

“It's been 23 days since Thanos came to Earth,” Rhodey stated.

“World governments are in pieces. The parts that are still working are trying to take a census,” Natasha explained. “And it looks like he did... he did exactly what he said he was gonna do. Thanos wiped out fifty percent, of all living creatures.”

“Where is he now?” Tony asked. “Where?” Y/N, who was standing behind Tony’s wheelchair, gave his shoulder a slight squeeze.

“We don’t know,” Steve answered. “He just opened a portal and walked through.”

Tony looked over at a sullen-looking Thor, who as sitting outside on a bench. “What’s wrong with him?” Tony pointed.

“Oh, he's pissed. He thinks he failed,” Rocket responded. “Which of course he did, but you know there's a lot of that's going around, ain't there?”

“Honestly, until this exact second, I thought you were a Build-A-Bear.”

“Maybe I am.”

“We've been hunting Thanos for three weeks now. Deep Space scans, and satellites, Y/N was even searching Titan over and over, and we got nothing. Tony, you fought him.”

“Who told you that? I didn’t fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the Bleecker Street Magician gave away the Stone. That's what happened. There was no fight.”

“Okay.”

“He’s unbeatable.”

“Did he give you any clues, any coordinates, anything?”

“Steve—“ Y/N called, waiting to stop this before it got too bad.

“Pfft! I saw this coming a few years back,” Tony continued. "I had a vision. I didn't wanna believe it. Thought I was dreaming. So did Y/N, ya know? She saw this coming too.”

“Tony, I’m gonna need you to focus,” Steve pressed.

“And I needed you. She,” Tony pointed back at Y/N, “needed you. As in past tense. That trumps what you need. It's too late buddy. Sorry. You know what I need?” Tony stood, pushing things off the table. “I need to shave. And I believe I remember telling you—“ Tony went for Steve, only for Rhodey to try to stop him.

“Tony, Tony, Tony!” Rhodey said.

“Tony!” Y/N added, though she knew it was no use.

“Alive and otherwise what we needed was a suit of armor around the world!” Tony continued, taking his IV out. “Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not— that's what we needed!”

“Well, that didn't work out, did it?” Steve retorted.

“I said, "we'd lose". You said, "We'll do that together too." And guess what, Cap? We lost. And you weren't there. But that's what we do, right? Our best work after the fact? We're the Avengers, we're the Avengers. Not the Prevengers.”

“Okay,” Rhodey said, trying to get Tony back into the wheelchair with Y/N’s help.

“Right?”

“You made your point,” Y/N said. “Just sit down.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Nah, nah. Here’s my point. You know what?”

“Tony, you’re sick,” Rhodey said, finally able to guide him back to the wheelchair.

Tony pointed to Carol. “She’s great, by the way.”

“Sit down. Sit.”

Tony finally gave in. We need you. You're new blood. Bunch of tired old mules!” Tony sprang back up and walked right up to Steve’s face, voice dripping with venom. “I got nothing for you, Cap! I got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options. Zero. Zip. Nada. No trust. Liar.”

It was clear that Steve was affected by Tony’s words. The old friends just gazed at each other in tense silence. After a moment, Tony ripped his arc reactor from his chest and shoved it into Steve’s hand.

“Here, take this,” Tony said. “You find him, and you put that on. You hide.”

Tony fell to the ground. Y/N was by his side instantly.

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed.

“I’m fine,” Tony slurred. “I… Let me...” He quickly fell into an unconscious heap on Y/N’s lap.

“You shouldn’t have pushed him,” Y/N whispered harshly at Steve. “But that’s what you do, right? To get what you want?”

“Y/N—“

“No, Steve. Just, no. Tony’s always been blamed for everything. Always. But, you know what, you’re not perfect either and are to blame for a lot as well.”

“I never said—“

“I don’t want to hear it, Steve. Not anymore.”

~~~

Tony was brought into a private glass room, where Bruce was getting him situated. Y/N was seated by his side, while Rhodey stood by the door.

“I gave him a sedative,” Bruce informed them. “He will most likely be out for the rest of the day.”

“Thank you, Bruce,” Y/N exhaled shakily.

“Of course. I’m going to run a few more tests and give him some more meds.” Y/N nodded, staring at Tony.

“Y/N,” Rhodey called for her attention. She glanced over at him. “I need to know… would you have chosen Tony in the end?”

Y/N pursed her lips. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Rhodey… the choice was made for me…”

“I just don’t want him hurt.”

“I won’t. Trust me.” Y/N rubbed her fingers over Tony’s hand. “I love him. And… he’s all I have left.”

~~~

Rhodey walked out to inform the others about Tony’s condition.

“Bruce gave him a sedative,” he told them. “He's gonna probably be out for the rest of the day.”

“You guys take care of him,” Carol said. “And I'll bring him a Xorrian Elixir when I come back.” She walked away.

“Where are you going?” Natasha asked.

“To kill Thanos.”

Steve and Natasha shared a look before quickly walking after her.

“Hey,” Natasha called after her, “you know, we usually work as a team here, and between you and I, morale's a little fragile.”

“We realize up there is more your territory,” Steve added, “but this is our fight too.”

“You even know where he is?” Rhodey questioned.

“I know people who might,” Carol responded.

“Don’t bother,” Nebula said, standing behind Carol. “I can tell you where Thanos is. Thanos spent a long time trying to perfect me. And when he worked, he talked about his great plan. Even disassembled, I wanted to please him. I'd ask "where would we go once his plan was complete?". His answer was always the same: "To the Garden.””

“That's cute, Thanos has a retirement plan,” Rhodey commented.

“So where is he?” Steve asked.

They grabbed Bruce and gathered in the common room. Rocket stood on the table with a hologram of a planet.

“When Thanos snapped his fingers, Earth became ground zero for a power surge of ridiculously cosmic proportions,” Rocket explained. “No one's ever seen anything like it... Until two days ago.” A shockwave visibly traversed over the planet in the hologram. “On this planet.”

“Thanos is there,” Nebula confirmed.

“He used the Stones again,” Natasha stated. She looked at Steve. “That’s what happened with Y/N. She was feeling the Stones. We have a chance, we could—“

“Hey, hey, hey,” Bruce interrupted. “We'd be going in short-handed, you know.”

“Look, he's still got the stones,” Rhodey said. “So—“

“So let’s get him,” Carol stated. “Use them to bring everyone back.”

“Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.”

“Even if there's a small chance that we can undo this…" Natasha said. “I mean we owe it to everyone who's not in this room to try.”

“If we do this, how do we know it's gonna end any differently than it did before?” Bruce wondered. “And how do we know that Y/N’s not right? That the Stones are destroyed.”

“She can’t be right,” Steve stated. “Not until I see it with my own eyes.”

“And this will be different because last time, you didn’t have me,” Carol stated.

“Hey, new girl, everyone here is about that superhero life,” Rhodey said. “And if you don't mind my asking, where the hell have you been all this time?”

“There are a lot of other planets in the universe. And unfortunately, they didn't have you guys.”

Thor, who had been eating in the back all this time, stood up and walked over to Carol. She looked behind at him. Holding his hand up, Thor summoned his ax. He caught it as it flew over to him, missing Carol by inches. But Carol didn’t even flinch, instead giving Thor a small smile.

“I like this one,” Thor smiled.

“Let’s go get this son of a bitch,” Steve ordered.

~~~

Y/N was sitting beside a still unconscious Tony, reading, when Steve slipped into the room.

“How’s he doing?” Steve asked, awkwardly staying near the door.

“Fine,” Y/N responded, not bothering to look up from her book.

“Look, Y/N, I…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Then go.”

“The team knows where Thanos is.” This got Y/N to look up at Steve. “We’re going to go get the Stones back and reverse this.”

“I told you, Steve, the Stones are gone.”

“You don’t know tha—“

“Oh, I don’t? I just wasn’t, I don’t know, connected to them for years? But go ahead. Try and fix this. But I’m telling you it’s too late.”

“Don’t you want to try and get everyone back? Get Bucky back?”

She paused, searching her mind for how to answer. She knew Steve wouldn’t believe her if she told him that she had seen the future. The battle wasn’t over.

“Things happen for a reason,” she replied. “We have to accept it—“

“Unbelievable,” Steve scoffed. “I can’t even—who are you?”

“I could ask you the same question, Steve.” He clenched his jaw. “We are not the same people we were before we froze, Steve. And I don’t know if we’ll ever go back to that.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re home.”

~~~

When Tony woke up, he was all alone. He was groggy from all the drugs, but he knew he was back at the compound. Looking around the room, he saw Y/N coming towards the room with a tray of food. Her eyes lit up ever so slightly when she met his opened ones.

“Hey, sleepy head,” Y/N greeted with a soft smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a moon landed on top of me,” he responded, voice raspy. “Oh, wait. It did.” He grunted as he sat up more.

“I brought some food.” She set the try on a table in the room. “I didn’t know what you’d be feeling like, so I got a little bit of everything.”

Tony carefully watched as Y/N got his food ready. Knowing her for so long, he knew when something was up.

“What’s wrong?” He asked.

Y/N sighed, knowing she couldn’t keep anything from him. “The Stones are gone.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean, they’re destroyed. I don’t have my powers anymore. The team also found Thanos, they went to try to reverse what happened.”

“But the Stones are destroyed.”

“They don’t believe me.”

“What? Why? You’re connected with the Stones.”

“I know… they still didn’t.”

Tony could see how everything that had transpired was weighing down on Y/N, whether she admitted it or not. “We’re leaving.”

“What?”

“We can’t stay here. We need to move on. Start our live together.”

“We can’t just leave.”

“We can’t? Why?”

“Well, they… I… I don’t know.”

“Exactly why we need to go. I’ve already got a secluded piece of land with a small lake on it. We can build a house there. Try to find some normalcy.” Y/N looked out the window, biting her lip. “I can see the weight you’re carrying about all this… it’s not solely your fault. Don’t take all of it on yourself.” He reached out his thin, trembling hand. “Let me bare it with you.”

With a teary nod, Y/N set her hand in Tony’s. He tried to pull her towards him. She sat beside him on the bed, brushing his hair off his forehead.

“I love you, Tony,” she whispered.

“I love you too.”

~~~

By the time the team came back, Tony and Y/N had already put together a house plan. The team came back with the news that Thanos was dead and the Stones were gone, not to Y/N or Tony’s surprise. The two left the compound to Tony’s apartment in the city that night.

They were both extremely sadden by how destroyed and seemly empty the city was. The first night was harder for Y/N than it was for Tony. Due to still being malnourished, Tony spent a lot of time sleeping. Y/N was the opposite, not getting much sleep at all. She was haunted by what happened in her dreams and too scared that if she closed her eyes, Tony would disappear.

It was dusk, when Tony woke up from a nap. Usually, Y/N would lay beside him or still be somewhere in the room. But this time, he couldn’t see her anywhere. He pushed himself up to get a better look at the room.

“Y/N?” He questioned. “Honey? Where are you?”

No response. With a grunt he stood up, grabbed his cane, and headed out of the bedroom. He kept calling out her name.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

He stopped when he thought he heard something. And he was right. He heard sobs that were clearly trying to be concealed. Hurrying as fast as he could, Tony turned the corner, he heart shattering further than he thought it could at the sight. Y/N was on her knees, in the middle of the living room. Her hands were pressing a blanket to her mouth, trying to conceal her retching sobs. Who knows how long she had been like that, but the blanket was drenched in tears.

“Oh, honey,” Tony hurried over, getting down next to her. He pulled her into him, but she fought it. “Don’t fight me, hun. Please.”

“I’m so-sorry, Tony,” Y/N sobbed. “Please just go… I’ll be fine…”

“It’s clear that you’re not.” Tony pulled her back in, not caring that she was fighting. “You’re carrying too much on your own. Like I said before, let me bare this with you…”

“I-I can’t… cause it’s my fault… if I had tried any harder or pushed myself—“

“Until what? You died? You know that I wouldn’t have been able to handle your— I-I can’t even think about it.”

“It’s just… it’s so hard, Tony… it hurts so much… I watched them dust right before my eyes… the power I was given to stop this, failed me and now it’s gone… I’m—I’m useless.”

Tony’s frail hands took Y/N’s face firmly in his hands. “You are not nor ever will be useless. Especially not to me.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony… I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay…”

He placed a soft kiss on her lips before going in for other, more hungrily. Y/N welcomed it, letting him have entrance into her mouth. When they finally separated, panting, Y/N and Tony locked eyes.

“Help me, Tony,” she whimpered. “Please… take this feeling away…”

Tony nodded before pressing his lips firmly against hers. Y/N guided herself so that she was laying down as Tony hovered over her, pressing kisses down her neck.

“I will always help you,” he whispered against her lips. “Always.”

It was a beautiful, long awaited night of love and passion. Both of them were beginning to feel whole again, completed, in each others holds. Healing was starting to take place because, as long as they had each other, everything was going to be alright.

next chapter >

My dearest Team Bucky, many of you have been so patient throughout this whole series and I ask you to continue to do so. I have a surprise coming your way (and to Team Tony’s). Thank you for your support and please keep reading.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #avenger endgame #endgame #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers endgame

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elianamarie-blog · 4 years

Text

The Things You Give Pt. 11

Happy spooky season, my dear loves! Thank you for being so patient with me as I publish each part. I really hope you enjoy this next part. I love hearing from you guys so feel free to message or leave a comment <3

Steven Hyde x Reader

“Eric!” Y/n said, completely frozen in shock. “W-what are you, uh, what are y-you doing h-here?”

Eric’s face didn’t change as he stared at the couple in front him, wide eyes and jaw slack. So many questions ran through his mind as well as different emotions. Rage, confusion, hurt, shock, and most of all: betrayal. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to scream or strangle them both. His hands started to shake and he swore his heart was going to beat out of his chest.

“Uh…it’s not what it looks like!” Hyde said, trying to save the situation. “She was helping me move some boxes and she found some of my nudie magazines.”

“Yeah!” Y/n cut in, catching on. “And I started making fun of him for it and that’s why it sounded like we were talking dirty and that’s why we look like this because of all the moving…and it’s hard work. And we smell like this because we got all sweaty. But nothing else happened!”

Eric couldn’t believe that his best friend and sister would think he was that stupid. He couldn’t even say anything to them. All he could do was calmly walk out through the basement door without saying a word.

“Oh no,” Y/n said under her breath.

“Crap,” Hyde sighed and looked at Y/n who looked like she was about to cry.

Down at the Hub, the couple and everyone else, minus Eric, sat around their usual table as Y/n and Hyde relayed what had happened just a short hour prior.

“He was like a deer caught in the headlights,” Hyde said. “A very angry looking deer.”

“You know what this means?” Donna asked. “This means that he’s going to rant for the next six months and guess who is going to have hear about it?” She pointed a finger at herself. “That’s right, me. Over and over and over again.”

“I know,” Y/n grumbled and hid her face in her hand. “This is so not the way I wanted him to find out. Any of you really.”

“Yeah, I still think I found out the worst way still,” Donna commented and took a sip of her root beer, but not before she shuddered dramatically. “I still have nightmares about it.”

“Yeah it wasn’t a thrill for us either,” Hyde said and took some fries from Y/n’s basket.

“To be honest, I’m kinda scared to see him,” Y/n said after taking a sip of her coke. “He just…didn’t say anything and stormed out.”

“Maybe he didn’t know what to say,” Jackie said. “I mean, he probably was disgusted.”

“Jackie, what the hell, man?” Y/n asked her frustrated.

“No, I mean it’s his sister and best friend. How would you feel if that happened to you?” she defended.

“It did happen to me!” Y/n said. “When Mike McCan’t Keep It In His Pants over here and Easily Spread Butter started sleeping together.”

“First of all, that’s a good burn,” Kelso laughed. “And second of all…I totally nailed your sister! Now if I can nail you, I’d done it with all the Forman girls!”

Hyde didn’t even hesitate to connect his fist to Kelso’s shoulder. Kelso grunted and glared at him before scooting away from him.

“So, how did it make you feel? How did you react?” Donna asked.

“Well, I was beyond angry because I felt so betrayed and disgusted and lied to—ah crap,” Y/n said, realizing what the point was. “Dammit, Jackie, I hate it when you’re right!”

“Which isn’t very common,” Jackie stated, holding up a finger. “But when I am, it’s a big deal.”

“Have you guys seen Eric?” Y/n asked.

“I haven’t,” Donna answered.

“Me either,” Jackie mumbled.

“Nada,” Kelso said.

“Sorry,” Fez finally said, shaking his head.

“Man, I’m kinda freaking out,” Hyde said. “Normally I don’t, especially when it comes to Forman, but you should’ve seen him. I’ve never seen him like this. Normally, he’s like, you know, all squeaky and twitchy, but this time, he was just quiet and walked out calmly.”

“Yeah, I don’t what I’m going to do once I see him,” Y/n said, leaning back and crossing her arms.

“Well, you might want to figure it out soon because he’s coming in,” Fez said, panicking a little.

Y/n and Hyde whipped around to see Eric stomping in, but the second he came in and made eye contact with them, the air around them suddenly went still.

“Hi, Eric,” Y/n said softly.

“Hey man,” Hyde said, trying to sound as casual as he could.

The dirty blonde twin looked at them before turning away back into the parking lot.

“Damn,” Kelso mumbled and turned back around to face the group. “He’s really pissed.”

“Trust me guys, I’ve known Eric our whole lives and I’ve never seen him like this,” Y/n said.

“Well, duh, you shared the womb with the guy,” Fez piped up and everyone couldn’t help but roll their eyes. “I guess you can say, you were wombmates.”

Y/n couldn’t help but giggle at that while everyone else groaned and rolled their eyes.

⧝⧝⧝

The next day, things between the twins and Hyde were still eerily quiet. Eric couldn’t even be in the same room as them. Even at the breakfast table, Eric refused to look up from his plate. Kitty and Red shared a look, knowing something was wrong.

“What’s wrong with you?” Red asked. “You’re usually annoying in the morning. Actually, I can get used to this.”

“Red,” Kitty said sternly and turned to Eric. “Eric, honey, are you okay?”

“M’ fine,” Eric mumbled shortly without looking up and shoveled some eggs into his mouth.

“Did you get into a fight with Donna?” she asked.

“Mom, I said I’m fine. Can we please drop it?” Eric asked, trying to not raise his voice at her.

She held her hands up. “Fine, fine.”

The table went back to ground breaking silence while everyone sat there tense and still, except for Red who was actually enjoying the silence for once.

Outside later in the afternoon, everyone, minus Eric, sat in the driveway, shooting some hoops and talking on top of the Vista Cruiser.

“Where’s Eric?” Jackie asked.

“He’s…somewhere,” Y/n answered and looked towards the house. “I think he’s been hiding in his room all day. Or he just goes where we aren’t.”

“Probably both,” Jackie said and shuddered. “I wouldn’t want to be in his room either.”

Donna laughed. “That’s true. One time I just walked in and he was reading a nudey magazine and I swear I’ve never seen him jump up so fast. It would’ve been funnier if he wasn’t naked.”

Y/n and Jackie shuddered in horror.

“Gross!” Jackie exclaimed.

“What she said,” Y/n said and gagged. “Thanks for that mental image.”

Y/n looked over to Steven, Michael, and Fez playing basketball and made eye contact with Steven. In that split second, Michael took advantage of it and swiped the ball from him. He made a slam dunk and stuck his tongue out at Hyde.

Hyde quickly grabbed the ball and spun around, dodging Kelso’s attempted swipe and slammed it into the basket.

“Hyde: two, Kelso: uno,” Hyde said, smirking and balanced the ball on his hip.

“I love watching you play basketball,” Y/n said, her voice lowering.

“Yeah?” Hyde responded, staring her down.

“Yeah, it’s hot,” she responded before realizing they were in front of everyone and cleared her throat. “Or you know, whatever.”

“Get a room!” Kelso shouted.

“It’s my house!” Y/n argued.

“Exactly! So, you should go find one and get that out of here,” he responded.

“Shut up, man. We used to have to watch you and Jackie make out all the time,” Hyde said.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t weird like this is,” Kelso responded.

Y/n and Hyde rolled their eyes at him before turning back to each other.

“So, have you seen him?” he asked her.

“No, have you?” she asked.

He shook his head. “We’re going to have face him sooner or later.”

“Later,” Y/n answered. “Gives me time to think of ways to calm him down. Or by the time we do face him we’ll be in Guadalajara.”

Hyde shook his head smiling. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

Y/n sighed and hopped off the car. “Fine. Let’s go find him.”

“I think I saw him go into the basement earlier,” Fez said and everyone followed Y/n and Steven to go to the basement.

“Can we get some privacy?” Y/n asked when they noticed everyone was following them.

“No way!” Kelso answered. “We aren’t going to miss the show.”

Y/n grunted, feeling annoyed. “Idiots.”

Hyde turned around and slammed his fist into Kelso’s shoulder. “Will you get out of here? All of you!”

“Ow!” Kelso yelled. “Fine!”

Everyone dispersed leaving Hyde and Y/n alone.

Begrudgingly, Hyde and Y/n made their way to the basement where they did, in fact, see Eric sitting on the couch watching TV. But judging his body language, he was tense and still really pissed off.

“Eric?” Y/n called out gently, afraid to scare him off like a stray animal. “How are you doing?” She rounded to the couch to face him and saw his chin resting on his thumb while his index finger held up his cheek. He wasn’t paying attention to the tv and was just sitting there, seething.

He looked at her from the corner of his eye to back to the screen. He stayed silent, refusing to speak to her.

She looked at Hyde desperately, needing help.

“Listen, Forman. We need to talk about this,” Hyde said stepping forward.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he said, struggling to keep his voice leveled.

“Yes, there is and it’s need to happen,” Steven responded. “I get it, you’re pissed. But this needs to be hashed out so it doesn’t become another Kelso fiasco. So, come on. Let’s talk.”

“Talk about what, exactly?” Eric snapped. “What’s there to talk about? Talk about you screwing my sister? Or that you guys went behind my back and have been lying to me this whole time? Or how ‘bout this, that you went after my twin sister? You know it was bad enough when Kelso did it with Laurie, but Y/N?” He shook his head.

“Eric, please,” Y/n begged. “Trust me, this is not the way we wanted you to find out.”

He jerked his head to look at her. “How did you want me to find out?”

She shrugged her shoulders nervously. “I don’t know, but somewhere along the lines we wanted to tell you.”

“And how did you think I would take that?!” he yelled. “You’re sleeping with my best friend! I can’t believe you guys would do this to me!”

“Okay, first all, Forman, we’re not doing anything to you,” Hyde defended. “In fact, this isn’t about you at all. And second of all, it’s nothing like that. It’s more than that now.”

Eric’s face darkened. “What do you mean by that?”

Hyde cast his eyes down and looked to Y/n before turning his gaze back to Eric. “I love her, man.”

“WHAT?!” Eric practically screamed. He dragged a hand down his face and started to pace behind the couch.

Y/n stayed seated as she watched her brother’s breathing becoming uneven and shaken. She knew that he was about to lose his cool.

“What the hell do you mean you love her?” he continued shouting. “Out of all the stupid crap you’ve pulled, this has got to be the dumbest one yet!”

“What do you mean by that?” Hyde asked offended.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” he replied. “You stringing my sister along for fun, making her believe that you’re in love with her and then when you get tired of her, you’re going to dump her for the next girl that comes along.”

“That’s what you think I’m doing?” Hyde was getting visibly angry. “You think I would that to her? I’m not freaking Kelso!”

“I don’t see you denying it!”

“Hang on!” Y/n shouted, standing from her seat. “Do you really think I’m naïve to fall for something like that again?”

“Well, you did before,” Eric spat.

Y/n’s blood started to boil. “That’s nothing compared to what Steven and I have! What he is saying is true because I love him too!”

Eric’s face fell and flushed red, clenching his teeth. “How long?”

“How long what?” Y/n asked.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Well, uh, since June,” she answered.

“So, you’ve been dating secretly for four months and never thought of when to tell me?! When were you going to tell me? After you guys secretly got married? Or after the birth of your first secret child?”

“It’s not like we wanted to hurt you,” Y/n defended. “We didn’t plan for anyone else to find out either.”

“Everybody else knows?!” Eric shouted.

“Nice going,” Hyde grumbled, elbowing Y/n’s arm. Gently, of course.

“Uh—yeah. They kind of…found out on their own. Except for Fez. Kelso told him, but other than that, yeah. They caught on.”

“How do you think Mom and Dad are going to take it when they find out their daughter is screwing the town’s rebel?!”

“You mean the one they took in?” she asked angrily. “The one who they love like another son?”

“I’m warning you now when Dad finds out, you’re dead. Both of you. And I mean literally,” Eric warned and continued to pace.

“I know, but this a risk that we’re willing to take,” she said and walked over to where Hyde was standing and wrapped her arms around his waist. Steven wrapped a protective arm around her and held her close. “I love him and he loves me. I’m actually happy.”

“I know this hard for you to get through your thick skull, but I really do love her, man. For the first time ever, I’m happy,” Steven said, more calmly this time.

“Stop saying that!” Eric screeched.

“It’s true, man!” Hyde yelled back. “Will you quit acting like a two-year-old and actually have a decent conversation?”

“You don’t get to tell me how to act when you’ve been going behind my back like this,” Eric growled. “Don’t you dare tell me how to act!”

“This is why we didn’t want to tell you!” Y/n said. “We knew you’d act like this!”

“How am I supposed to act, Y/n? I mean, for four months, four damn months, you’ve been doing whatever you’ve been doing in secret. I can barley understand all of this. I don’t know how the hell you expect me to accept this!”

“Well, you’re gonna have to because this isn’t going to end anytime soon!” Hyde said.

Eric finally stopped pacing and looked Hyde straight in the eye. “You know what bothers me the most? That I gave you more than one chance to tell me the truth and you lied to me. I’m supposed to be your best friend, your brother, and you couldn’t even come to me to say, ‘Hey man, I like your sister and I’m thinking of asking her out. Just thought I’d give you a heads up,’” Eric said, doing an impression of Hyde.

Hyde unhooked his arm from Y/n’s shoulder. “Okay, first of all the impression, uncanny,” he said sarcastically. “And second, even if I did come to you first you still wouldn’t be okay with it.”

“Of course not!” he said. “But it still would’ve been better than being lied to!”

Hyde and Y/n grew quiet and looked at each other. As much as they hated to admit it, he was right. They should’ve at least said something to him before all this.

“You know what? I can’t even look at you two right now,” Eric finally said and walked over to the door, grabbing his coat from the rack.

“Where you going?” Y/n asked, tears beginning to surface.

“Anywhere but here!” Eric shouted and slammed the door on his way out.

“Damn it,” Y/n groaned, rubbing her hands down her face. “I knew this was going to blow up in our faces.”

“Let’s just give him some space,” Hyde said and brought her in for a hug. “It’ll be okay. He can’t stay mad forever.”

“What was all that yelling about?” Kitty asked, coming down the stairs.

Y/n pushed herself away from Hyde and stood close to him. “We got into a fight with Eric.”

“You two got into a fight with Eric?” she asked surprised. “Why? What happened?”

“Donna and Eric had a fight,” Hyde and Y/n answered quickly together.

“Nice!” Y/n laughed.

“Alright!” Hyde laughed with her.

Y/n turned back to her mother. “We sided with her and now he’s all pissed at us.”

“What about this time?” Kitty asked.

“I’m not too sure,” Y/n lied. “Something about Star Wars.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” she responded, rolling her eyes. “Those two fight over the dumbest things.”

“You can say that again,” Hyde said, chuckling to himself.

“Well, when Eric gets back, make you sure tell him dinner’s almost ready.” She trotted back up the stairs, leaving the couple along again.

They sighed together and collapsed on the couch next to each other.

“What are we going to do?” Y/n groaned and dropped her head on his shoulder.

Hyde kissed her head and sighed as he put his arm around her. “I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out.”

“I love you.”

A small smile crept up on his face. “I love you too.”

⧝⧝⧝

The next day at the hub, the gang, again minus Eric, sat around a table eating burgers and fries. Y/n slurped on a milkshake while listening to Jackie’s incessant rant about God-knows-what.

“So, then as Brittany took the position of head cheerleader from me, now the whole squad has been completely ignoring me and talking behind my back. That skank wad,” said Jackie, crossing her arms.

“I thought you quit cheerleading?” Y/n asked.

“Yeah, but then I realized I needed to go back to my natural habitat. Snobby and bitchy.”

“At least you’re honest,” Y/n said..

“So, you talked to Eric, huh?” Donna asked.

“Yeah, and he didn’t take it well at all,” Hyde responded.

“Well what happened?” Fez asked.

Y/n and Hyde went into the details of what happened the night before with everyone’s eyes glued to their faces.

“Man, he’s taking this a lot harder than I thought,” Donna said, leaning back and taking a sip of her soda.

“I’m not surprised,” Kelso piped up. “I mean, he hated it when me and Laurie got together, but yours is way worse.”

Y/n squinted at him. “How is this worse, exactly?”

“Well, me and Laurie were just doing it,” he responded. “You guys actually feelings for each other.”

“No, you idiot,” said Fez. “If he was just doing her he would be angrier because then Hyde would look at her just like a hot piece of meat instead of actually having feelings for her.”

“Thanks, Fez,” Y/n said, happy that someone made that point.

“Or,” Kelso said. “He’s madder because this is a thing that’s going to stick and not just be a fling and get over with.”

“That’s also a good point,” Jackie said.

Y/n gave a look to Donna and shook her head before continuing. “Anyway, I don’t know what else to do.”

“There’s nothing you really can do,” Donna responded. “He knows now and there’s nothing you can say or do to make him any less pissed.”

“Except if you two broke up,” Jackie said.

“Oh, I got it!” Kelso said, snapping his fingers. “You two should break up!”

“Kelso!” Hyde and Y/n said in unison.

“No! I mean you two should fake break up and then Forman won’t be so mad at you anymore,” he responded.

“Well, that’s not too bad of an idea,” Jackie said.

“What’s the point of that?” Hyde said. “He’s already pissed off at us for lying to him. What makes you think this one is better?”

“Yeah, good point,” Fez said. “Well, then Donna is right. There’s nothing you can do.”

Y/n sighed and leaned back, rubbing her temples. “This sucks.”

“I know, but he’ll come to accept it,” Donna said. “Especially if this is going to last.”

“What Miss Kitty and Mr. Red?” Fez asked. “Red is a fireball. He’s going to lose his crap.”

Everybody gasped.

“Red!” Kelso shouted. “I didn’t even think about him!” Then he started laughing. “You’re so dead, man.”

Hyde glared at him. “You think we didn’t think of that?”

“Well, we’re eighteen now. He can’t tell us what to do and who to be with,” Y/n said, turning to Steven. “He’s going to have to get over it.”

“Yeah, after he sticks his foot in your ass,” Donna laughed.

“I’ll take it,” Hyde said and put his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take anything for you.”

Y/n giggled as everyone awe’d at him.

“Shut up!” Hyde yelled, but a smile formed on his face anyway.

A ding at the door caused the group to turn around. Zack stood at the entrance and made his way over to Y/n once he made eye contact with her. Y/n internally groaned.

“So, you’re with the school burnout now huh?” Zack mocked. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to find someone better than me.”

Y/n blinked at him. “Great. You’re back. Don’t you have to be annoying somewhere else? Like in college? Or did you fail and disappoint them too?”

“BURN!” Kelso shouted, laughing along with the rest of the group.

“I didn’t fail out,” he defended. “They kicked me out.”

Y/n laughed. “For what? For spiking the sorority girls’ punch?”

“No,” he said, growing frustrated at everyone’s laughter. “I broke into the girl’s locker room and drilled a hole through the wall.”

Y/n through her head back and laughed. “Yeah, you know what, I upgraded. And my guy maybe a ‘burnout’ but at least he doesn’t cheat on me with some skank.”

“I only cheated because you wouldn’t put out,” he said, his cheeks puffing out.

“Yeah, get lost, Loser,” Y/n said, throwing the word back in his face.

He pfft’d and smacked Hyde in the arm. “Good luck with this bitch, man.”

Hyde glared at Zack before slowly standing and winding his fist back and connecting it to his nose. Zack cried out and held his nose in his hand.

“What the hell, you prick?!” he shouted.

“Call my girlfriend a bitch again and I’ll make sure you’ll be the first person to touch his chin to his ass!” Steven shouted. “Get the hell out of here!”

Zack didn’t respond as he scrambled out of the building.

“That was awesome!” Donna cried out, laughing.

“Yeah, that was,” Kelso said, smiling. “I’ve never heard a guy scream like a bitch before.”

“Me neither,” Y/n chuckled and looked to Hyde. “By the way, that was so hot.”

“I gotta protect my girl,” he said and leaned in for a kiss. Y/n smiled into the kiss as she placed her hand on his face, scratching his sideburns.

“Oh, God,” Eric called out from the door, feeling disgusted seeing them being affectionate.

Hyde and Y/n pulled apart and looked at Eric.

“Hi,” Y/n said. “What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d come down and see my dear sister with our dear friends, to try and maybe to hang out and get some normalcy, but seeing you two makes me want to vomit.”

“Oh, come on, Eric,” Donna said. “It’s not like this Kelso and Laurie.”

“That’s what I said!” Hyde said, trying to deflate the situation.

“Besides, they’re kind of cute together,” Donna said with a smile on her face. She looked to Y/n who mouthed a ‘thank you’ and winked at her. “You can’t stay mad at them forever.”

“Maybe not, but I can for a really, really long time,” he answered and was about to walk out the door when Y/n stopped him.

“Eric, wait no,” she said and got up, grabbing his hand. “Please don’t go. Sit with us.”

“Look, Y/n. I can’t. You have no idea how angry I am that you lied to me. We’re twins and we’re not supposed to have any secrets between us. We share everything, but you know the thing that really hurts the most? It’s that you felt like you couldn’t come to me at all. I can understand Mom and Dad, especially Dad because he’s well, scary, but me? I thought we were best friends and you trusted me enough to come to me.”

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes. “Eric, I do.”

“Clearly not enough,” he said, hurt laced in his face and drew his hand back from hers. He looked to Hyde who looked like he felt deep guilt. “We’re supposed to be best friends and you couldn’t even tell me the truth the first time. You clearly don’t care about anyone else but yourselves.”

“Eric, that’s not fair!” Y/n cried.

“You want to talk to me about fairness?!” he raised his voice again. “This isn’t fair. None of this is fair! It wasn’t fair that you went behind my back and started doing it! Or, that you couldn’t even come tell me that you have fallen in love with each other! That’s not fair.”

He walked out the Hub, leaving Y/n in tears. She sat back down and rested her head in the crook of Hyde’s neck, face turned away from the group so they couldn’t see her tears.

Hyde wrapped his around her waist and held her close, trying his best to comfort her.

“I’m sorry Y/n,” Donna said. “I’ll talk to him later.”

“But he’s right,” Y/n croaked out and turned her face back to them. “This isn’t fair to him and we did him wrong.”

“But you can’t help how you feel,” Jackie said sweetly. “It’s not like you did this to get back at Eric for something. You two truly do love each other and if he cared about you, he wouldn’t be so angry.”

“No, he has every right to be,” Y/n said, wiping her eyes. “Yes, we have strong feelings for each other, but we still went behind his back and betrayed him. He has every right to feel the way he does.”

No one else knew what to say, but to look at each other.

“I gotta go,” Y/n said and ran out before anyone else could see more tears.

“I should go too,” Hyde said. “This is my fault too.”

He got up and walked out after her, feeling the same guilt as she did.

Taglist:

@lieswithoutfairytales @mdittyz123

#Steven Hyde #steven hyde x reader #that 70s show #That '70s Show #that 70's show fanfic #Eric Forman #Donna Pinciotti #Michael Kelso #jackie burkhart #fez #fez x jackie #i just love when fez sings this because it's so cute haha

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mudhornchronicles · 4 years

Text

dreamboat | greaser!frankie | part three

photo credit

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader; greaser!frankie x f!reader

warnings: violence, mentions of racism towards latinos, cursing

dreamboat: part one | part two | part three

masterlist

Frankie has been in this cold and dark cement cell for what feels like months – it has been 19 hours. It was only 3 in the afternoon and would be in this cell until 5 when his mother got off work. He may have been 18 years old, but the sheriff did not care – especially being Frankie. Frankie would not stop pacing to and from one side of the 6-foot by 8-foot jail cell and the sheriff was getting quite annoyed.

“Frankie, ya want a metal cup to rattle against the bars or will ya quit bein’ dramatic? Stop pacin’ or you’ll make a hole through the cement, kid.” Frankie stops pacing and looks at the sheriff sitting at the desk situated in front of the holding cell. “Ya actin’ like ya goin’ to federal prison. Tu madre viene por ti a las cinco, hijo. Relajate.”

Your mother is coming for you at 5, son. Relax.

Frankie sits on the floor, putting his head in his hands. He lets out a sigh as he rubs his face. He looks back up at the smiling sheriff and raises an eyebrow. “What’s so funny?”

The sheriff takes a drink of his coffee and nods his head over at Frankie. “You are kid. Ya only got in a fight; ya didn’t hold up a bank.” He reaches in his desk’s cabinet and pulls out a silver flask. He pours a generous amount of a golden liquid in his coffee and goes to close the flask. He tuts as he looks back at the steaming black liquid and pours some more whiskey. This causes Frankie to laugh at the sheriff he came to know and like. The sheriff stands and walks over to Frankie, his mug of coffee in one hand and dragging his chair with the other. He places the chair in front of Frankie’s cell and takes a seat. He takes a swig of his coffee and looks at Frankie.

“I hope ya know your mom is goin’ to have a cow when I tell her why you’re in here.”

Frankie smirks and nods. “Ya ain’t tell her, yet?”

“What? That ya gave Oberyn a beatin’ ‘cause he was givin’ ya shit? Hell, that little bastard deserved it. If I don’t tell ya mom, you will.”

“Yeah? Well he was cruisin’ for a bruisin’. He should’a seen it comin’. Next time I see that cat, he’s gettin’ more than a couple’a shiners,” Frankie huffed. All he was able to give Oberyn was a good black eye and a couple of other bruises. The sheriff got called the second the boys went outside. He knew Rosie must have called the sheriff, but Frankie couldn’t be mad. The boys promised Rosie that there would be no confrontations in front of the diner – they did not do that last night. “Why I gotta tell my mom for? Aint you the sheriff? Shouldn’t ya be the one to tell ‘er why I’m in the can?”

The sheriff takes a deep breath and sighs. “Frankie, listen to me.” Frankie scoffs and rolls his eyes, waiting for the sheriff’s spiel about being responsible for his mother’s sake.

The sheriff sits straight and places his mug on the floor. He clears his throat and speaks to Frankie in the tone Frankie knows to shut up and listen. “Francisco, you listen here you little shit. You been in this very cell three times now, Tom having the record of 38, and ya feel like what? Ya feel like ya cool or somethin’? Ya mom already don’t like the friends ya hang with, except for Santiago. Ya think she likes seein’ you behind these,” the sheriff bangs on the metal bars for emphasis, “bars here? Now, I ain’t ya daddy, son. Nobody will ever compare to the man ya father was, but I know good and damn well he wouldn’t wanna see his only kid behind these bars. That man fought too fuckin’ hard for you and ya momma for you to be fuckin’ up ya life.”

Frankie stands up and leans against the cell, holding a metal bar in each hand. “’The fuck ya on about? You said it ya’self! I just got in’a fight. How’s that fuckin’ up my life?”

The sheriff stands up and gets close to Frankie. “Watch ya tone with me, boy. I ain’t one of your little friends to be gettin’ an attitude with, got it? You know that little betty you had ‘round ya arm? Her momma don’t like ya. Her momma got her head way up her ass, she don’t like anyone whose shoes aren’t new every day.”

Frankie chuckles at this.

“Hell she don’t even like me very much and I’m the law. Ya think she wants her daughter ridin’ round town with ya? Ya like her right? The more you get behind these bars, the further you get from her, you got it?”

Frankie nods as he walks away from the sheriff and sits on the concrete bench with a slump. The sheriff lets out a sigh and drags his chair back to the desk, taking a big gulp of his coffee. He grabs his newspaper and flicks it to straighten it out. He looks at Frankie and frowns. He decides to give Frankie one last piece of advice – something he promised himself he’d never use but he knew the young man needed to hear it.

“Francisco,” he says to catch Frankie’s attention. He continues even if Frankie doesn’t look at him, he knows he’s listening. “Tu padre murió por ti. El murió para que tu vivieras la vida que deseabas. Yo sé que este estilo de vida no es para ti y si lo eliges, entonces tu padre murió por nada.”

Frankie’s head snaps up and watches as the sheriff stands and walks out for a smoke. Frankie knew the sheriff wanted to leave the room for air because he would always smoke inside. From this moment to a quarter after 5, Frankie remained silent and still as he pondered on what the sheriff had said to him.

Your father died for you. He died so you could live the life you wanted. I know this lifestyle is not for you and if you choose it, then your father died for nothing.

As much as he wanted to cry and fight the sheriff, Frankie knew that the sheriff spoke only truth. Frankie’s father would have been incredibly disappointed, which only hurts Frankie the more he thought of it. The sheriff said that his father died for him and it’s true. If his father would have put Frankie’s name on that sign up, Frankie would have been dead by now. Instead of drafting 18-year old’s as stated, the US became desperate and sent off 16-year old’s with the promise of compensation for their families – that didn’t ever happen.

Frankie heard rapid heels clicking coming from the corridor and he knew it was his mother.

“Francisco Morales! ¿En qué pendejada te metiste ahora? Fue por ese Thomas, verdad? Ni se te ocurra mentirme.”

Francisco Morales! What bullshit did you get into this time? It was because of that Thomas, right? Do not even think about lying to me.

“Hi Mom.” Frankie sadly says. His mother holds up one finger at Frankie and turns to the sheriff. She offers him a tired smile and a quick hug.

“Ahora que hizo, Javier? Por favor dime que me lo puedo llevar a casa.”

What did he do now, Javier? Please tell me I can take him home.

Frankie hears his mother say. She sounds as if she’s about to burst into tears, her voice pleading and shaky. Frankie immediately feels a wave of guilt wash over him. He saw his mother break apart when they lost his father and was thrown as being the sole breadwinner – he couldn’t put her through pain again.

“Yes, Monica, you can take him. He just had a run in with that Oberyn kid again.” Frankie’s mother lets her head fall back as she groans. She looks back at Frankie and shakes her head.

“How many times do I have to tell you to ignore that boy, Frankie? He isn’t worth getting into it with. Did Tom throw you into it? He can never fight his own battles and he threw Santiago in last time. Pope’s lucky Javier called me and not his mom - poor woman would have a heart attack.”

Frankie shakes his head. “No mom. I got myself in it.” Frankie looks at Javier, the sheriff, and Javier gives him an assuring nod. “The boys and I took the new girl in town out to Rosie’s and Oberyn decided to ruin the night as usual. He just got out the can so he was lookin’ for a fight I guess.”

His mother and Javier stride over to Frankie. Javier unlocks the cell, allowing Frankie to come out and hug his mother. His mother gives him a kiss on the cheek and holds his face in her hands.

“Francisco, I know you thought you were doing the right thing. Did Oberyn lay a hand on the girl?”

“If I hadn’t punched him, he probably would’ve.”

Monica, his mother, gives her son a warm smile. “If you got in here for defending someone because you thought it was the right thing to do, then okay. I suppose what done is done, but I never want to see you behind bars ever again. Tal vez tengas 18 años, pero todavia te doy una paliza, cabrón.” she jokes - well half-jokes.

You may be 18 years old, but I’ll still beat your ass, dumbass.

As Frankie and his mother collect his things and sign the necessary paperwork, Javier calls for Frankie’s attention. He simply tells him “remember our little talk, Frankie. I ain’t try’na see you behind those bars again.”

A little talk Frankie will always remember and think about every day.

Frankie knew he should be going to his fifth and sixth periods, but he had already missed the first four, so why they hell not miss. He wanted to because he wanted to see you after the fiasco, but he was nervous. You saw him fight, get arrested, and get dragged away by Javier. He saw your eyes widen and fill with fear when he spat out blood and get put into handcuffs.

“So ‘Fish… where’s that little dolly of yours? You two get it on yet?” Redfly says. “Oh wait… ya been in the can!” The Bandits all laugh and Santiago slaps his knee while Will wheezes at the thought of Frankie in jail. Frankie takes a drag of his cigarette, staring at his friends and offering an eye roll.

“Alright laugh it up. I made it out, didn’t I?”

“yeah,” Santiago starts, “that’s only cause Javi likes us. If it were Oberyn in there, Javi would’a still had his ass locked up.” Pope gives his best friend a slap on the shoulder paired with a laugh and a quick just kiddin’ buddy.

The bell rings and the sea of people wave into the hallways. The boys bid farewell to each other, Will and Frankie walking to their class together. Will was the first to spot you in the crowd of people. He saw you walk with a student you had all your classes with; Maxwell Lorenzano, or Max Lord as he liked to be called now. The Bandits knew him, they knew him very well.

Max was a soc kid who would hang out with the other popular socs, but in actuality, Max was another Latino kid whose family were more like the Bandits. Both of his parents were greasers, and they knew what it was like to work hard yet not have a lot. His father worked all the time as a mechanic and his mother was a stay-at-home mom. His dad was always working on a motorcycle that would become his son’s first ride, but then something in Max changed. His whole life, Max wore a leather jacket and slicked back hair, not caring what the world thought of him, but as the times went on, the bullying got worse.

Just like Frankie, Max’s family was not always welcomed, but his aunt’s family was. His aunt was a greaser too, but her husband was a complete socialite. His family created and owned an oil business which allowed them to want for nothing. When Max saw the acceptance his aunt had received from her in-laws, it was a flipped switch. He asked to work with his uncle to learn all about the business. His uncle was elated to find out his nephew wanted to leave the “delinquent” life and become a businessman. Max’s face was plastered on the company’s ads and the popular kids wanted to be friends with him. He was accepted as a soc and even though his parents were upset, Max wasn’t entirely honest at school.

Max still worked on his dad’s motorcycle project. He still had his leather jackets and wore them at private family gatherings. He still knew the slang and attitude. He was still loyal to the people who liked him for him.

Max and The Bandits looked after each other as brothers. Even though he was not officially a member, Max had his BANDITS leather jacket at home, hung and clean. In order to keep his soc image at school, Max and the boys pretended to hate each other. Max pretended to be disgusted with their way of life and would throw insults here and there when the other kids would.

When Max saw Will and Frankie coming their way, Will gave him a discreet nod and Max reciprocated.

“Look what the cat dragged in… a couple of worthless hoodlums.” Max said. He turns to you and says, “C’mon, you shouldn’t associate yourself with these… things.” You look up and meet Frankie’s beautiful eyes. He seemed as if he wanted to jump out and say something to you but couldn’t.

“Don’t get yourself twisted up, Lord. Your little petty pants will wrinkle,” Will snickers.

Max rolls his eyes at him. “Move out of our way, Miller. We’ll be late.”

Will laughs and moves out of the way and gestures for him to walk. “C’mon, Polo. Keep it movin’.”

As you walk past the boys, Will offers a quick hey and you answer with a smile. You walk away, but Frankie calls you by name, causing you to stop and take a breath. You ask Max to give you a minute, him checking his watch and agreeing. You walk up Frankie and look at him, silently asking him to continue.

“I… I- Hi. How are you?” Frankie sputters out. He mentally slaps his forehead and cursing at himself. Is that the best he can do?

“I’m doing fine, thanks.” you quietly say.

Frankie tries to put together a mix of words, but none of it is coherent. Will lets out a loud and obnoxious sigh and puts his arm around Frankie’s shoulders.

“Catfish here wanna know if you wanna hang with’im after school. How ‘bout it sweetheart? The guy just got out the can and in need of company.” You raise an eyebrow at Will.

In need of company?

Max lets out a sarcastic laugh and walks to you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away.

“Her mother would have her head if she were caught with you guys again. You already got her in trouble once; no need for it to happen again.”

You look back at Frankie, silently apologizing, but in the end, Max was right.

When you got home that night, Will assured you that nobody would talk about it. The next day, your mother came back furious and you were ultimately grounded for being seen with those boys. Your father was not too happy either, but was mainly concerned about your safety, which was a valid concern. Your mother demanded for you to never talk to Frankie or she would have to take action.

What action? You were not too sure.

No matter how hard Frankie tried to talk to you, Max would either pull you away saying he needed your help, or your teacher would ask him to quiet down. Frankie was not one to give up, but he also did not want to be a pain in your side. He felt as if the odds were against him, but he was going to get you to talk to him one way or another – at least a single hello in the hallway so he does not feel as if he messed up entirely.

It was now Wednesday, and The Bandits sat at one of the outside tables by the cafeteria. They “joked” with people, rough housed as usual, having a good day so far, but when the soc table kept staring, the boys didn’t feel so cheery.

“Fuck ya lookin’ at, soc? You got a starin’ problem?” Tom yells.

“You should get daddy’s money to check that out,” Benny continues. Frankie turns in his seat and looks at the group of the popular rich kids sitting at the opposite table from them. He lets out a sigh, letting it pour out of his nose, as he sees you sitting next to Max at that same table. When he gets a chance to really see you, he sees red.

Michael, the school’s top athlete, has his arm around you and you appear to be uncomfortable – something Frankie never wanted to do. You look around awkwardly as Michael stands up and confidently walks over to the boys, other soc boys in tow.

“Look here boys. A bunch of nothings thinking they’re something,” Michael says. The soc boys all laugh and Tom remains tall, chest puffed out.

“Ya better watch what ya sayin, Mikey. Wouldn’t want ya to get hurt.” Tom rebuttles.

Two of the boys behind Michael walk up to the Miller brothers, a bit shorter than the two but still reeking of false confidence.

“You three must be tired of carrying these two brown boys, huh? Always quiet and only get involved when they’re forced.”

Max walks over to Michael, you trailing behind him, and tells Michael to stop and to come back to the table. Michael refuses, asking Max if he is worried about him hurting his own kind. You gasp and get in front of Max, facing Michael.

“How dare you? You dare call Max a friend and still, you berate him and these boys,” you start, motioning to the Bandits, “because they aren’t “your kind?” I’ll have you know that these boys are some of the most intelligent people I have ever met, a lot smarter than you.”

“Is that so, sweetheart? You think these delinquents are worth getting in trouble?” To this, you give him a confused look. “You think your mom hasn’t gone around rambling about how her daughter was seen with the worst kids in town? These guys bring their parents shame. Well… except Francisco over there… he got his old man killed.”

Michael barely got his final word out before he was on the floor holding his bleeding jaw Santiago caused. Santiago grabbed his hand in pain; it was a while since he punched someone so suddenly like that. No matter the pain, he wasn’t about to let the spoilt rich kid get away with insulting his best friend and his best friend’s father.

You look over to Frankie, who is still sitting at the bench stone faced. How could he just sit there after Michael insulted him and his father? You go to walk to him but Max pulls you, walking away telling you that you’ll talk to him later.

��I’m taking you home after school, okay? Michael called a meeting after school and I told him I’ll be there when I get you home,” Max explained. He talked fast and seemingly out of breath. He knew something was going to go down – no one drops Michael like that without consequences.

“Why are you worried? Max, is something going to happen?” You ask. He looks around and explains to you what has happened when Michael wants revenge. From legal actions to physically hurting someone, Michael will stop at nothing to make himself look strong and important. Max just told you to be careful and to stay inside.

And something must have happened because Max came knocking down your door and asking your mother if it was okay if he took you around town. Your mother oddly was happy to agree and Max piled you in the car. He drove fast and parked inside a green home’s garage. For a second, you were terrified that Max was forced to bring you to Michael, but soon let out a breath of relief when you saw Will come into the garage and greet you.

“Alright, Maxie,” Will said. “What is so important and secretive that you called us all here and brought her along?” Frankie adjusted his hat, a baseball cap that suited him quiet well, and played with his hands.

“We have to hide Frankie’s car. Now.” Max stated rapidly.

Frankie’s head shot up and the boys all together threw questions as to why we had to temporarily get rid of Frankie’s car.

“Max. What are we hiding my dad’s car for?” Frankie asks. His voice is quiet and laced with worriedness.

Max takes a deep breath and apologetically looks straight into Frankie’s eyes.

“Michael’s planning on crushing your car.”

dreamboat taglist:

@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @funerals-with-cake @seasonschange-butpeopledont

taglists and requests are open!

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #francisco morales #francisco catfish morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x you #catfish morales #francisco catfish morales x you #triple frontier #dreamboat

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kandikorne · 3 years

Text

What’s Left of Me [BTS AU]

Words: 3.6 K

Summary: Jungkook was a typical college student. Nothing interesting there, his only friend, Kim Seokjin, or as he calls him, Jin, is terribly ill with an unknown illness that not even the doctors can prescribe. One night Jin asks Jungkook if he wants to play a game. Only the game isn’t what Jungkook thought. But it’s just a game right? What’s the worst that could happen?

Genre: Angst, Mature Content, Horror/Thriller.

~ ~ ~

It was nearing midnight as Jungkook had arrived back to his flat after a long drive across town just to deliver some notes and cards to Jin, who was currently running a fever with a mysterious illness. The doctors weren't even a hundred percent sure what was wrong with Jin, maybe it was a strain of pneumonia?

Yeah that has to be it, thought Jungkook as he slid off his shoes and went straight to his computer, he logged on and started to type up his essay on emotions and how they play into day to day life, but the emotion his professor gave him was quite difficult. It was sadness.

Sure the assignment was simple and all but never really experiencing true sadness he didn't know how to start it off. Besides a cheesy quote about feeling broken and alone.

He felt like he was about to go insane, he never felt true sadness and he was sure his professor would want it to be about something really depressing over just, ‘I lost my pet cat named Pete,’ but something more.

WIth a loud beep his phone went off alerting him of a text from Jin:

"Kookie thank you for the study materials!"

Jungkook smiled and was about to send him a response when Jin replied again:

"Have you played What's Left of Me? Or heard of it?"

“Honestly no... What is it?”

Before Jin responded Jungkook reread the name of the game and typed it in on his search bar for What’s Left of Me, all that popped up was a book. Frowning he knew this is not what his hyung meant so he went back to the search bar and tweaked his search adding Game. What popped up was Google claiming an error that Google was not responding.

“Odd...” He muttered before he tried to open a new tab only for the new same message to reappear. “You have to be kidding me,” he groaned and continually refreshed only to keep getting the same message and that Google had crashed.

“Why?!” He exclaimed, brows furrowing as he looked over at his phone only to see a video link from Jin. Clicking it he heard a soft female voice, practically whispering all while there was a black screen.

“Hi... I’m not gonna introduce myself because what’s the point.... Well obviously you’re here for my game What’s Left of Me. The game’s a bit different than your average game, there’s no shooting of others but decisions and story based themes, you the Player decides what happens. Nothing is reversible so play how you feel but do it carefully. I am giving you the extent of five players to choose from and that is all. Thank you for your consideration and I hope you enjoy.”

The video ended causing a frown to play on the young males features as he texted his hyung.

“That gave me the chills. Her voice was so sad, yet so familiar. WHY WAS SHE WHISPERING???”

Sent from Jin at 12:03

“I like how her video was, her voice was soft and peaceful as it captures your attention immediately. I’m ready to play it!”

Sent from Jungkook at 12:03

“Ok... Did you download it?”

Sent from Jin

“Yea are you going to Kookie?”

Sent from Jungkook

“It won’t even let me view the game.”

Sent From Jin

“Restart your computer.”

Why, thought the younger male but did as told, he waited for the system to reload and as it did their was a new file on his computer. WHAT’S LEFT OF ME in all caps. “How did this get here?” Scared Jungkook looked around his dark room but nothing was out of place, he even scanned his computer for a virus. Nada.

“Did it work?” Texted Jin, Jungkook could barely breathe yet alone focus on the situation at hand. How did this happen?

“Yeah the game was already on my computer somehow...”

“Huh strange, maybe you clicked download.” Responded Jin and as he read the message he shook his head, Jin didn't seem to get it. The game just appeared. He hadn’t even had the option to download it as it never popped up when he searched it.

“No because I couldn't even find the game when I originally searched it.”

Sent from Jin

“Computer was probs lagging but at least you have the game now. I think I want to play Namjoon. He seems interesting. What about you?”

Sent from Jungkook

“Erm hang on let me load the game, I haven’t open it yet.”

“K.” Was all Jin said as the younger male moved his cursor over the game and clicked open. As the game was loading an eerie song was playing in the background, Hell it wasn’t even a song, more so screeching and loud crashes. Every now and then the screen would glitch out and he’d get a brief glance at a girls face. He was only at 10% as the game completely froze except for the song which was on an endless loop and began repeating the word why over and over as the depressed girls face froze on screen before him, a single tear running down her smooth skin.

“You left us...” She whispered before the game automatically shut down and sent Jungkook staring at his home screen, eyes wide and breathing rapid. “What the literal fuck,” he cursed as the game restarted and took him back to the loading screen yet it was all different. Instead of a sad song on loop and the sad girl, the game played a soft happy tune as the background was all black and the title appeared in a bloody font. What’s Left of Me the words practically dripping down the screen as a candle flickered beneath the text casting long shadows revealing a room.

He had to admit this game had some freaky cool artwork. He clicked the title, not really sure what else to do as there was no options for the game. His options appeared before him carved into the desk that the candle was sitting on. The game title was on the gray wall behind the candle.

Jungkook read his options slowly and wondered if Jin saw the same things as him.

Continue Game

New Game

Leave?

Curious as to what Continue Game would do for him, since he’s never played it before and was sure no one has played it on his computer he clicked the option. The game file loaded and he was quickly inserted into a dark bathroom, a young man with copper hair, almost golden, was crying in the middle of the room. The only sounds besides the poor males soft spoken sobs was the sound of the bath running and pouring out onto the tiled floor all around the sobbing man. The game glitched and instead of water surrounding the copper haired male it was now a dark red substance which Jungkook could only assume was blood. He was no longer crying but screaming at the top of his lungs, “WHY WHY WHY!” His dark gaze looking dead at the screen, his eyes finding Jungkook’s, it was if he was was aware of Jungkook watching him. It was like the male wasn’t in the game.

Jungkook’s throat constricted with fear. The game crashed and he was back to the main menu. He most certainly wasn't going to try to continue that again unless it was his own saved progress, but even then he still didn't want to do this.

Why is he even considering this game? For Jin, he softly reminded himself. But why did Jin even want to play this game, it was so freaky and weird. Did Jin not get the same intro as him? Maybe Jin was smarter than him and decided not to try and continue the game, speaking of the Continue Game option that was no longer present instead it said, Can’t Continue Something You Never Started or Cared For.

Chills ran down his spine as he took a picture and went to send it to Jin who had been blowing up his cell. Jungkook didn't even read his messages from his hyung as he instantly went to send Jin the freaky message from the game. Only the test wouldn't go through, he was shot with an error. “What the Hell?” He grumbled and tried once more only for it to not send.

“Why’s this happening? I paid my bill!” Biting his lower lip in confusion he looked at Jin’s messages and hoped his hyung would understand his technical difficulties.

From Jin sent at 12:10

Jungkook you there?

Hey did you start the game?

Kookie, kookie, kookie?????

Ok spam time

Hello

What does a janitor yell at a party?

SUPPLIES! hahaha get it? Supplies

I’m worried you alive?

Wait are you asleep?

If so sorry. Send a bunny emoji if you’ve been kidnapped.

I’m gonna start the game, Namjoon is pretty cool and looks good. What about you? Who will you play as, you have five options, all of them epic.

From Jin sent at 12:12

I get it, you hate the game and you haven’t even started.

Jungkook shook his head and chuckled, Jin is so childish and impatient, he thought to himself and sent a quick apology text. Sent, he managed to send a text! His eyes widened as he tried to send the picture only the picture wouldn’t go through.

Why was that?

Why was it that he could send an apology to Jin but not a picture? Did he not have enough storage? Was their text history too long?

It just didn't add up. Whatever, he thought, It doesn’t even matter. It’s just a game.

Clicking on the New Game option he was sent to a character page. Five characters like Jin said, but there was an outline of a missing character, two actually. He hovered his cursor over both of them but all he got for their stats was:

Name: ???

Age: ???

Height: ???

Gender: ???

Description: ???

He looked at the outline and noticed the lock in the middle of their chests, he had to unlock them. How come he didn't see that when he was first looking at them?

Whatever, just find a character and start the game so Jin won’t be upset. With a sigh he moved his over a young male with a blonde mullet, a boxy smile on his perfectly proportioned face.

Name: Kim Taehyung.

Age: 23

Height: 5′10

Gender: Male

Description: Taehyung is a happy go lucky, one of a kind guy, unlike any others that you will ever encounter in life.

Already interested and a tad bit jealous of how happy and lucky Taehyung gets to be while he, himself, is worried for Jin’s health and stressing over stupid projects that are all nearing there due date. Shoving some his hair out of his face he moved on to the next character, the one from the Continue Game option. Curious as to see what was wrong with him and who he was he began to read the stats.

Name: Worthless

Age: Does it matter? I’m just gonna fade away...

Height: Too short just like life....

Gender: Dead

Description: You let me die, it’s your fault. Why didn't you care about me? How could you let me go through with it? WHY’D YOU LEAVE ME?

Shaking his head with a low sigh escaping his lips, he wondered who was this character and why was he so depressed? But also curious of his stats, he asked Jin.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:13

Jin who is the copper haired male after Taehyung?

Sent from Jin at 12:13

Who Jimin? Y?

“Jimin,” whispered Jungkook softly almost as if he was testing out the name. His name was so nice compared to his description. The characters blank stare held his gaze, honestly Jungkook felt a bit guilty for this made up character.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:15

I couldn't see his stats 4 sum reason. :/

Sent from Jin at 12:15

The pausing of this game is janky... Lemme go back to the lobby. Pray that my game saves

Sent from Jungkook at 12:16

I pray it saves

Sent from Jin at 12:17

Okay Name: Park Jimin Age: 22 Height: 4′8 Gender: Male duh Description he’s a chill dude with a beautiful smile.

*Height 5′8 lol he’s not that short. That’s about it.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:17

Is this some sort of dating sim?

Sent from Jin at 12:17

No most certainly not. I don;t really know what it is, but I know it’s not a dating sim. Each character has a different story, that’s all I know.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:18

This is some srs bull.

Sent from Jin at 12:18

Please don't use acronyms Kookie.

Jungkook laughed and shook his head at his hyungs requests when, he too, use abbreviations such as why to y.

Sent from Jungkook at 12:18

Yes boss

Sent from Jin at 12:19

😈 Lol picked your character yet?

Sent from Jungkook at 12:19

No not yet, my game’s acting up.

Sent from Jin at 12:19

Well hurry up so you can play!!!!!

Sent from Jungkook at 12:20

Ok gimme a minute.

Placing his phone down in his lap he moved on to the next character, a tall male with silverish purple hair with deep brown eyes that seemed to be able to read your soul and a soft dimpled smile.

Name: Kim Namjoon

Age: 23

Height: 5′11

Gender: Male

Description: A bookworm, a really hard worker with excellent grades, who’s also a natural leader. Pretty cool guy once you meet him.

Jungkook chuckled at the last part, “once you meet him.” Like he’s gonna meet Kim Namjoon in person, he’s just a character in a video game, closest thing he’d get to meeting Namjoon is playing as him. Which he won’t because this is Jin’s character.

The next character’s picture was sweaty, his tongue out, black hair in his eyes, as a black hat rested on his head.

Name: Jung Hoseok

Age: 24

Height: 5′10

Gender: Male

Description: Hoseok, Hobi, is an all around ray of sunshine, with constant happy vibes. Always there for you when you need it, remember?

He frowned, why is it like the game is talking to him directly, “Fine if I play as Hoseok or Hobi, whatever his name is I’ll remember that he’s a ray of sunshine to help others.” He grumbled but a small smile played on his features as a warm aura seemed to enclose around him.

Moving away from the friendly happier male he moved onto the one dressed in all black, a mask covering his mouth and nose as his dark brown eyes stared at him judgingly. He was more ominous looking than scary.

Name: Min Yoongi

Age: 25

Height: 5′9

Gender: Male

Description: Always quiet but observant, known to stand up for those in need, tired but always working.

Nodding his head, understanding each character he finally decided that he’s play as Taehyung. He would’ve played as Jimin if he was able to, but the game simply would not help let him.

Starting up as Taehyung he was given the option:

Play as Kim Taehyung?

Yes? No?

“Obviously,” he said with a chuckle as he selected, yes, the game loaded with ease, compared to when he first started the game. A small transition of a butterfly landing onto a window sill was played in the background, then he heard the sounds of a camera snapping a photo.

“Babe,” came a male voice in the background, the loading symbol stopped as the clip began to play. The light filtered into the room showing a few dust particles floating around as the butterfly stayed on the sill slowly moving it’s beautiful blue and black wings.

“In here,” came the females voice, the door opened and the floor groaned with the males footsteps. “Are you coming, we’re about to leave?”

“Sorry was taking a picture.”

“You’re obsessed with that thing.”

“Photos keep memories.”

“Yeah but can also steal a part of your soul.” Spoke the deep voiced male jokingly as the girl laughed. What a sound to be heard, it was like music, so carefree and soft. Jungkook wished he could listen to her laugh all day, she seemed so happy, unlike any other girl he’s ever met and tried to talk to.

“Well this camera can’t have my soul,” she stated promptly. The camera angles changed revealing a small girl, her hair covering her face, until the man, who Jungkook recognized as his player Kim Taehyung, moved his hand to her face brushing her short dark brown hair away from her eyes. “You look so much better showing your face.” She shook her head, the hair falling back into her brown eyes as her dimpled grin moved to crinkle her eyes.

“Whatever oppa,” she teased softly punching his arm. “I’m serious,” he muttered pulling her closer to him, her hands rested upon his chest and the camera still in her left hand. The butterfly flew past the camera showing the two lovers.

The room changed, it was no longer the happy loving environment that Jungkook was originally thrusted into. Instead his character was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. Every now and then he would repeat a name, it was obviously the girl that he was with name.

“Elli,” he whimpered, even his dog was sniffling and whimpering. His puppy rested his head on Taehyung’s thigh. Both of them were honestly too sad to watch causing Jungkook to push away from his desk and move to his bed.

“What the fuck is this game? It said Taehyung was a happy go lucky guy, what the fuck happened to that?” Raking his fingers through his hair he took a deep breath and texted Jin:

I can’t play, I have class tomorrow 8 am.

He lied flatly and went to send only it wouldn’t. “Again with this bullshit?” He questioned aloud pissed, throwing his phone across the room and onto his bed. “Fuck this,” he grumbled as he moved to his couch, falling heavily onto the cushions and looking up at his ceiling in annoyance.

Through the corner of his eye he noticed the television had turned on. Must’ve sat on the remote, he thought to himself as he sat up and looked under the cushions only to find nothing but a quarter, three pennies, a dime, and a moldy cheeto. Scrunching his nose up in disgust and grabbing the 38 cents that he had found he placed the cushions back in their place.

He turned on his lamp and continued his search only for the lamps light bulb to explode, shards of glasses flying through the paper lamp shade and nearly cutting him. Startled by the destruction he looked all around the room, his eyes landing on the Tv and to the message displayed through the static.

juSt go bAck to the VidEo gaME !

The message was pretty clear of what it wanted him to do. The younger male didn’t understand why only a few letters were capitalized, and not even in a specific order or why there was two words underlined. Looking back and reading the all capitalized letters he wrote them down:

S - A - V - E M - E

A shiver ran down his spine at the startling code, maybe it was unintentional but something in his gut told him, it was there for a reason. He did the same with the two underlined words:

SAVE THE GAME

Is what the message came down to. Who was he even supposed to be saving? And why was his television telling him to save the stupid game? It didn't make sense, all of this was just making him frustrated. He shook his head and unplugged the television having enough of this shit.

“I’m done!” He exclaimed as he moved onto his bedroom, all the lights in the house began to flicker on and off. “Oh great my life now is becoming Paranormal Activity, fun.”

With a groan he went back down the hall and to his computer, the screen glowing at him. “Now how do I even save?” He grumbled trying to find a way to save the game without losing what little progress, technically none, that he’s made so far.

With a roll of his tired eyes, he pulled up the options and found nothing useful on saving the game. “How the fuck? What is this even? This game,” he groaned out annoyed, ready to just log off his computer and restart Taehyung’s intro scene. Exiting the options he was brought face to face to Taehyung's sad, blood-tear stained cheeks, thanks to the new camera angle. What made it even more creepy was the twisted boxy smile on the male’s face as he stared right into the camera.

Jumping back startled, and nearly falling out of the chair, Jungkook released a slight yelp as the character began to speak to him, almost directly.

“Aren’t you gonna save me? Or are you, too, just gonna abandon me like all the others?”

Two options appeared before him in a dark red, dripping font:

Save ME

Abandon ME

Hesitant of what the two options meant he hovered his cursor trying to decipher what he should do, when he realized that this was the way of saving, or so he hoped.

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strawberrywritings · 4 years

Text

First threat.

A/N: I randomly hit a writer’s block this week and this is the best I could come out with, but i think I have the rest kind of figured out.🍓

/ Previous parts

The morning after, you woke up still in his arms, smiling and nuzzling closer to him, never wanting him to leave. When he woke up, he felt your fingers caressing his chest and he smiled sleepily. “Good morning, mi vida”, he wrapped an arm around you and brought you on top of him. You huffed in surprise and laughed when his hands found your almost bare ass. “Wasn’t last night enough?”, you joked, pecking his lips. He hummed. “It’s not that, it’s just that now I’ll never get enough of you and your wonderful body”. How could his voice be so sensual even when he just woke up? You had no chance but give in. After a round two in the shower, you and Angel ate breakfast before parting ways to go to work, not leaving without a goodbye kiss.

Angel arrived at the scrapyard, dressed in the same clothes from the night before (which you had washed and dried them overnight), Coco whistled and him and snickered. “Nice clothes. Got something to tell me, Angelito?”, he pushed his arm and Angel shook his head, but smiled nonetheless. “I spent the night with my girl”.

Coco grinned at him as they started working on a bike, “So… you smashed it?”. Angel threw a bolt at his best friend, a small smile on his lips still, thinking about last night. “We made love”, he corrected him, just as Gilly was coming up behind them. “Woah, what am I hearing? ‘Made love’? It’s too early in the morning for this shit, hermano”, they all laughed and Angel shook his head slowly. He was completely smitten.

“I assume you’ll be bringing her around?”, Bishop had a smile on his face, but his voice was serious and Angel straightened up. “Yeah, just… don’t know when”, he shrugged. “I’m sure we’ll find some excuse to party, right boys?”. Bishop’s words were followed by hollers in agreement from all the boys at the scrapyard. “Bring her over, she’s welcome”, Angel nodded and thanked el Presidente. Would they be welcome in her mind once she knew about what they really did?

A couple days later, El Padrino happened to come visit and stopped by the clubhouse, Angel made a beeline for him just as he got out of Templo. “Puedo hablar con usted?” Can I talk with you?, Angel was fidgeting and Alvarez nodded, sitting down with the Mayan. “Que pasa” What is it, he answered, noting the uneasiness in the man in front of him. “I have a girlfriend and I still haven’t introduced her to the club. I’m afraid she won’t… accept me. She doesn’t know what I- what we really do”. Alvarez nodded, “You’ll have to explain it carefully, one bit at a time. Eso no es fácil” It’s not easy, he paused and lit his cigarette, “And if she doesn’t accept it, you just let her go, Angel”. He swallowed and nodded, the thought of having to leave you was already too much for him, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. “Gracias”. “De nada”. They shook hands and El Padrino left, leaving Angel alone with his thoughts, again.

Angel told you about the party the same day, he was so cool about it, too. “Angel, you cannot tell me two hours earlier! I need to plan these things!”, you were rummaging thought your wardrobe while he sat on the bed, unbothered. “That’s exactly why I didn’t tell ya, mi amor, you’re obsessing over something stupid”. “Meeting your friends is not something stupid, baby, fuck-”. “Just throw on something, it’s gonna be fine”, he smiled as he came over to where you were standing, kissing your cheek.

When you arrived at the clubhouse, you looked at yourself in the mirror of the car to check if everything was in place. He slid an arm around you and turned you to face him. “You’re perfect, mi amor”, he kissed you tenderly and you made your way inside, Angel greeting people left and right. You barely made it past the door of the clubhouse when suddenly the Santo Padre charter was all around you, introducing themselves and asking questions about you, about what you did. Conversation flowed easily, especially with the younger members, EZ in particular, as he and Angel kept making fun of each other.

“Tell him I’m not that messy, querida”, he looked at you and you chuckled. “I mean – you started – it could be better, but it’s not that bad”. “Looks like we’re making progress”, his brother chuckled. Angel was sitting beside you, an arm over your shoulders as he watched you interact with his brothers. You got up and excused yourself to go to the bathroom. “Someone is whipped”, Gilly said, and Coco nodded “Look at those heart eyes! Get a grip, hermano”. Everyone was laughing around him but he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His answer was a soft “Yeah, I am”, and a broad smile.

In the bathroom, you were washing your hands when a girl got in, you smiled politely as you began to dry your them. “You’re Angel’s new girl, right?”. You turned to her and gave her another smile, “Yeah, nice to meet you”. she barely let you finish your sentence as she spoke again, “I hope you know you’re nothing special, everyone’s fucked him. He won’t stick around for long”, she replied casually. Your face fell at her words and you just stood there, speechless that a stranger would have the nerve to say these things, and if it was true or not, you didn’t care at the moment. She noticed your expression and smirked, “Just tryna save ya some embarrassment, honey”. And with that, she left, you followed after her, making a mental note to talk to Angel about this.

The night went on, you and Angels’ friends played pools, he played some beer pong, you laughed and had fun, but the girl’s words were still in the back of your mind. You went around to greet everyone before heading out and Angel was so proud as he watched you get along with all his brothers. Bishop gave him a pat on the shoulder adn a nod of approval, Angel grinning widely as he led you out of the place.

When he dropped you off, you invited him inside to talk. “I really don’t want to look like the girl who wants to tell you what to do – you started, and his eyes immediately were on your face, a concerned expression on his own, not knowing where this was going – but I’d appreciate your previous relationships staying out of our own”, you sat down in front of him at the table, where he was drinking a glass of water. “What does that even mean?”, he furrowed his brows and shook his head.

“This girl, in the bathroom, said, and I quote, ‘You’re nothing special, everyone has fucked him, he won’t stay long’. I don’t care what or who you did before me, and since it’s obvious we like each other, all I wanna know is if you want something serious with me or not. I don’t wanna waste time, mine or yours”, your voice was calm, collected, and his face fell once you were done talking. You hadn’t defined your relationship, not officially anyway, but he thought that by now you knew you were his, and his only. He got up and made you sit on the table, settling himself between your legs, clasping both your hands and holding them to his chest. “I waited a month to make love to you, I waited for you, if I just wanted sex, I’d have already left, mi dulce. You are my girl and-”, he paused, taking your hand in his, “and I’m not good at expressing what I feel, but I care a lot about you. And I’ll do everything I can to prove it to you”.

You smiled and put a hand on the back of his neck, bringing your lips together in a slow and sensual kiss. “I just wanted to be sure, Angel, you don’t have to prove anything. I see it in everything you do for me”, you whispered, your eyes closed as you peppered kisses on his collarbone and he rested his hands on your thighs, gripping the flesh and bringing you towards him. “I’d love to stay here and have a replay of last night, but I gotta head home”, he nibbled at your lower lip and you sighed. “Call me?”, he nodded and smiled at you, pecking your forehead and removing himself from you. Making his way to the door, you followed him and closed the door after kissing him goodnight.

The days went by and you and Angel passed the three-month mark in your relationship, Angel’s secret slipping to the back of his mind, figuring that he’d tell you when the time was right, but he soon discovered that “the right time” was his bullshit excuse to avoid the consequences, again.

When he finished his shift, he unlocked his phone, finding dozens of texts from you and lots of missed calls. Immediately worried, he didn’t even look at his brothers, getting on his bike and speeding to your house. He entered you home all sweaty, both from the sun outside and from having just finished work, and if you weren’t scared as hell, you would’ve asked him to take you right there and then.

“What’s wrong, mi dulce?”, you were petrified, crying, you couldn’t talk, you could just point at what was on your table. His eyes followed the direction of your finger: on the table were multiple pictures, some of you and him, some of him and his brothers while- oh. While moving drugs. There was a note next to them. ‘We’re watching you’. Simple and, judging by your current state, effective. “Angel, what the fuck is all this?”, you looked at him, how could he be so unaffected by all of this? How could he be so calm? Why wasn’t he freaking out that someone had followed you? He looked at you, then back at the pictures.

“You should sit down for this”, was his only answer.

taglist @scuzmunkie @ifoundmyhappythought @angelreyesgirl @starrynite7114 @my-rosegold-soul @claytoncardenasbabymama @chibsytelford @thickemadame @peaches009 @mrsjaxtellerfan @cocotheclown @elcococruz @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead @justahopelessssromantic @gemini0410 @imagineredwood @samcrobae @enamoured-x @brattyfics @sadeyesgf @rebel-without-cause-x @general-tiny-mouse @thesandbeneathmytoes @wrcn9fvlcver @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat @ly--canthrope

#angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #mayans mc imagine #my writing #a series of firsts

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: Black Dog - part seven Word count: 3100± words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part seven summary: Zoë and Dean try to form a plan of action, now that they are stuck in a cabin with hellhounds surrounding them. One wrong move can mean their end. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 & @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

“Can I ask you somethin’?”

Zoë looks up, but can’t see the hunter who prolonged her life from where she’s sitting. She hasn’t moved much, still facing the fire that is raging now, filling the cabin with a comfortable heat. The tremors have stopped, her respiration much calmer now. Her body seems to have recovered from the initial shock of the traumatic attack. With the adrenaline gone, her leg hurts badly, though, the pain having her grit her teeth. She tries her best to block out the loud noises of pots and plates being moved in the cupboards of the small kitchen, increasing both her headache and frustration. “Shoot,” she replies, her voice much weaker than she would like it to come out of her mouth. “If you were so dead set on dying,” Dean says while pulling out a drawer, “then why did you stock up enough food and water to survive a fucking apocalypse?” The huntress scoffs. “Hoping for a miracle, I guess.” “Does this mean I’m your miracle?” Dean moves into her peripheral vision with a can of tomato soup, a pot, some cutlery, and a can-opener in hand, setting the items down on the ground next to her for later. He has a boyish smirk on his face, apparently amused with his own remark. Zoë rolls her eyes. She’s been stuck in this little house on a hillside for a little over an hour now, and this manchild is already getting on her nerves.

“Let’s see if I can work miracles and get some help, because I have a feeling we’re gonna need it,” Dean slides his hand into the pocket of his leather coat, taking out his phone. Zoë watches him, noticing a hint of hesitation. “Who you gonna call?” she wonders. “The nerd.” “He’s downhill?” she presumes.

Dean drags his teeth over his bottom lip, but doesn’t answer. Instead, he stares at his Motorola as he looks up Sam’s number. His thumb hovers over the call button, but he doesn’t press it. Judging from the pause, Zoë is able to connect the dots; she knows something happened between the brothers.

“You two got into a fight, didn’t you?” she assumes, not beating around the bush. He glances over his phone to meet her gaze, then confirms with a nod. She can distinguish the concern and guilt in his stance; it’s bothering him. “That bad, huh?” Zoë huffs. “Where is he then?” “He was heading to Nashville,” Dean tells her. “Tennessee?” she checks, stunned. “That’s a long way from Waco. Why the hell is he there?” “It was the weirdest thing,” the older Winchester recalls, still unable to wrap his head around the strange lead that ultimately led them to have the biggest fight since Sam went to Stanford. “Someone called him, didn’t identify herself, and claimed that she knew where Dad was.”

Zoë frowns, her interest peaked. For one, she is very curious about how this Mystery Lady would have gotten her hands on that kind of information, since John has basically been as invisible as a ghost. She knows, because she has been trying to track him down as well, but of course, that is a detail the huntress is going to keep to herself.

“How did she get Sam’s number?” she questions, instead. Dean shrugs. “Beats me, but when it comes to finding Dad, Sam can be quite--” “- obsessive? Yeah, I've noticed,” Zoë chuckles, remembering the long conversations she had with Sam and the arguments the boys had in her presence.

The guy who usually is so quick to respond to such a comment, seems distracted now, staring down at his Motorola. “Fuck.” “No signal?” she presumes. “Nada,” Dean sighs, thinking of another solution. “We need to reach him, especially if David sends out an S.O.S. signal. Sam needs to realize what he’s dealing with before he charges up here.”

Realizing the Winchester in her company is right, she ponders. If the younger brother goes into this case without knowing that the hellhounds are off their leash and will attack anyone they come across, he is going to get torn to pieces. Dean and David are lucky, if there even is such a thing. The hunter is as stuck as she is, and the hellhounds might have caught up with the only Cleveland survivor; the kid could be dead for all she knows.

She adjusts her leg a little, carefully testing its mobility. The swelling is starting to pull at her skin, so she props her foot up again on the plastic first aid briefcase, watching Dean in the meantime. He has crouched down by the backpack he was carrying and mutters a few curse words under his breath while rummaging through it.

“What are you looking for?” Zoë wonders. “The kid packed a satellite phone,” he says, giving up his search, recalling that the zipper of the backpack wasn’t entirely closed when he took it off earlier. “Shit, I must have dropped it outside.”

Annoyed with the rookie mistake, Dean gets up and walks over to one of the windows. There he listens carefully, but he can’t detect any sign of the hounds. No growl, no nothing; it’s almost too quiet. Ready to pick up any sign of movement, the hunter scans the area outside, but there’s nothing living nor dead to be seen. Then he spots the black device in the snow, just a yard away from the cabin. “I see it.”

“So what? It’s not like you can go out there.” Zoë pushes herself up on the edge of the table, careful not to put any pressure on her injured leg. Leaning against the pillar, she follows Dean’s fixed gaze. Without hesitation, the either fearless or oblivious hunter intends to go out, his hand already reaching for the iron latch. “Dean! Are you fucking nuts?!” Zoë calls out, dazed. “And you call me suicidal?” “We need that phone, Zo,” he reminds her, his hand still on the handle. “Do you have altitude sickness or something?!” The wounded huntress steps forward, her leg almost buckling, but Dean’s fast reflexes prevent her from hitting the floor. “What are you doing? You shouldn’t even be standing up,” he scolds, steadying her. “What am I doing?! If you go out there, those motherfuckers will rip you to shreds!” she argues, smacking his hand away. “Yeah, and if we don’t contact Sam, he will!” he reminds her as he hands the shotgun to his current hunting partner, his green eyes intense. “I haven’t seen them yet. If they are still focused on you, they might not attack me.” She meets him with the same fire in her eyes, keeping a tight grip on his biceps before he does something stupid. “And what if they do?” “You’ll back me up,” he says, trusting her. “Okay?”

Zoë stares at him for a couple of seconds, but then sighs, realizing that he makes a good point. If they are not able to reach his brother before he gets here, he will sign his death warrant the second he sets foot on the mountain. Reluctantly, she lets go of his arm and takes the gun, holding the action release button before she pumps the slide to force the shells into the chambers. “Okay.”

He nods and turns away from her, glancing at the black and white world outside. Nervously, he takes a breath, collecting himself before he steps into the wolves den; here goes nothing.

The latch unlocks and the door opens. Careful not to break the line of goofer dust, Dean steps onto the porch and looks back for a second, sharing one last look with the huntress, then descends down the stairs.

It’s eerie how quiet the forest is. At midnight, the trees stopped whispering in the wind and even now he could still hear a penny drop. Even through his boots, the snow feels cold as he walks on it, highly aware of the crunching sound with every footprint the hunter leaves. Dean isn’t anxious often. But right now, being as exposed as he is, it ambushes him. Alert, he bridges the few yards between himself and the phone, trying to be as stealthy as possible. He ducks to pick it up, when he hears it; a deep, low growl.

“Oh, fuck,” Zoë whimpers, staring past the hunter wide-eyes.

Slowly, Dean looks up into a pair of red eyes which light up in the darkness of the woods. It approaches him like a predator sneaking up on his prey, its head hanging low between its shoulders, every motion calculated. While Dean stares straight into the hypnotizing fiery orbs that seem to be portals to the afterworld downstairs, the wind picks up and begins to circle around the cabin. Zoë is shocked when she notices that the goofer dust at her feet is blown off the threshold; there goes their last line of defense. A shiver of both fear and the cold has her trembling as she holds up the shotgun, peering over the double barrel. The beast in the shadow inches closer to Dean, until the moonlight falls on the creature, revealing its true form.

“Hey - uh, Zo?” Dean asks without moving a muscle. “These hellhounds, do they look like bear-sized monster mutts with hellfire burning in their eyes?” Zoë inhales sharply, lifting her cheek from the stock of her weapon. Shit. He can see it. He can see the fucking hellhound. Realizing that Dean is a split second away from being torn apart, she swallows apprehensively, steadying her rifle in order to fire.

The hunter’s hand hovers over the essential device in the snow as he tries to form a plan of action, but he’s captivated by the bone-chilling creature before him. He has never seen anything animal-like so evil as what is standing before the hunter. It’s an absolute monster, about the size of an Irish wolfhound. It looks like one too, but its dark fur is anything but soft and cuddly. The hair on the back of the creature stands straight up, like splinters of obsidian. The beast growls, fixed on its target, showing its razor-sharp teeth, blood dripping from its mouth.

Dean stares back, contemplating his next move. Frozen to the ground, he holds his breath, aware that any sudden movement will trigger Hell’s watchdog to charge him. The hunter sets his jaw, never breaking away from the definition of Death before him, until movement in the black shades surrounding him draws his attention. A second pair of eyes appears, then a third, and a fourth. Within seconds he can count a total of six hounds.

He exhales with a shudder. I am so fucked.

Who is going to make the first move? Dean knows it has to be him, because if he gives the evil creatures only a fraction of a head’s start, he’s going to end up with a lot of stitches, and that’s only if he’s lucky. Bracing himself and gathering his courage, Dean takes a breath and counts down. 3… 2… 1…

Lightning fast, he snatches the phone from the snow and dashes back for the cabin. As fast as his legs can take him, he sprints to safety, but he can hear the beast that was closest to him lunge itself at its victim.

“Get down!!!” It’s Zoë’s high-pitched voice that cuts through the night air. He takes her cue and dives for the ground, rolling on his side. A mistake, because the vision of the hellhound coming towards him with tremendous speed is one that will surely leave him with a nightmare or two if he survives this.

Right before the supernatural being is about to release its fury, the creature is shot out of the air and squeals like a pup. Knowing he can’t afford to lose a second, Dean gets on his feet and rushes towards the porch. He registers the comforting sound of a shotgun reloading before another loud bang echoes through the valley. Almost there, Dean.

But instead of just one hellhound, a whole bunch of them arise from the shadows now. Zoë’s eyes widen; there’s no way she can handle them all. She lowers her rifle and backs out. She doesn’t have a choice, there is no other way. What she’s about to do isn’t like anything she tried before, but it’s their only shot of staying alive.

As Dean stumbles in, the shotgun clatters against the floor. He turns around to close the only barrier between them, horrified when he witnesses the first two creatures already within inches of the threshold; they’re not going to keep them out of the cabin. But before the hunter can blink, the door slams closed with unmeasurable speed and power without anyone touching it, cutting off the creatures outside. Barking like mad, they march against the wood like a battering ram, clawing to get inside.

Unable to process the unexpected scene that plays out in front of him, Dean snaps his head towards his hunting partner, watching in shock how the woman has her right hand heaved up in front of her, fingers spread out and shaking. Her eyes are firmly closed, respiration fast and frantic. Holy fucking shit, this is her doing, Dean realizes. Whatever energy she’s sending towards the door, works because the dogs can’t get through.

“Dean, the goofer dust!” she exclaims over the sound of barking and growling, needing every ounce of her power to keep the barrier closed. Zoë’s order brings him back, time speeding up again. He grabs the bag and quickly lays out a line on the doorstep. As soon as he has connected one side of the doorframe with the other, the pressure on the door drops as if someone flipped a switch. Out of breath, Zoë lowers her hand and opens her eyes as an almost unbearable headache comes to the huntress. Trying to cast it out, she pinches the bridge of her nose while fresh blood drips down from her nostrils. For a moment, she feels like she is going to pass out, but then the pain begins to fade to a level she can cope with. Whoa, that was intense.

She didn’t think she could do it, but she did. Making a whiskey bottle fall off a shelf in Beetle’s Bar is one thing, talking to Sam only using her mind is another, but this was a whole new experience. Of course, she has practiced her telekinesis, but never before has she used it on a supernatural creature. She’s getting better, or worse - depending on how she looks at it.

Dean, who can’t believe what he just saw, stares at her, his jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. When Zoë glances aside, he knows she can see the indignation in his glare, detest even. He always assumed there was more to the huntress they crossed paths with only recently, but never once did he expect this. Who - or what - is standing before him, is anything but human.

“Christo!” he shouts. “I’m not a demon,” she assures. “Then what the hell are you?” he asks, his upper lip twitching with a hint of hatred. What. He asked her what she is. Not who, but what. Zoë swallows with difficulty as she collects the courage to speak again, hurt by his choice of words. “I’m human,” she tries to assure him, her voice breaking. “Dean, it’s me.”

She steps closer, but Dean quickly draws his Colt M1911 from behind his waistband. Alarmed and cautious, she moves both her hands up as a gesture of surrender. “Easy, tiger.” “Leave her the fuck alone,” Dean sneers, convinced a demon is possessing his hunting partner. “Would you drop it already?! You just yelled ‘Christo’ at me. Here, I can say it myself! Now if I was a demon, that would be a fucking awesome trick, wouldn’t it?” she fires back. “Shut up,” Dean mutters, starting to doubt himself, yet unable to take his finger off the trigger.

“It’s all mighty fine that I’m staring down the barrel, but a bullet won’t kill a demon. It will kill me, though,” she brings to mind, pointing at her chest. “A human is not supposed to be able to do that kind of freaky shit!” Dean exclaims firmly, still aiming the .45 caliber at her. “Neither is Sam, but I don’t see you pointing a gun at him!” she returns.

He swallows apprehensively, brought out of balance by her rapid reply. He hates to admit it, but it’s a valid comparison, one that scares him. Because if he’s able to keep Zoë at gunpoint, what does that say about how abnormal his brother’s abilities are? “Do you want to soak me in holy water if that makes you feel better? Fine, be my guest,” Zoë offers, waving her hands to the side.

But Dean already lowers his Colt M1911 and flips the safety on, the engravings in the metal catching the light from the fire as he tucks it behind his waistband again. The hunter looks away, aghast, the mixture of doubt and distress that he’s experiencing throwing him off. Unsettled, he peers outside, but the hellhounds have disappeared. He thought he understood Zoë’s fear for these things, but now that he actually can see them, he’s experiencing that same anxiety. His heart is racing so severely he can feel it beating in his chest, and his breathing does not seem to slow down either. Almost dying is something he has gotten used to over the years, but almost going to Hell is a new one.

“You okay?” Zoë checks, noticing his weariness. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he claims, annoyed by the fact that he isn’t. He starts pacing through the cabin slowly, keeping a sharp eye on the door. But it’s not just the creatures he keeps an eye on, he can’t help but monitor Zoë too. He huffs almost unnoticeable. You fucking idiot, you thought you had her figured. There’s a whole lot more to Zoë Sullivan than she shows, that’s for sure.

“It’s a good thing we’ll be stuck up here for a while, because it’s about damn time you start talking,” he makes clear, done playing catch-up. The woman across from him wipes her bloody nose with the back of her hand before she suggests otherwise. “We better make that call first.”

Dean knows she’s avoiding the subject, but she has a point; he needs to reach out to his brother. He picks up the satellite phone and inserts the country code and Sam’s cell number, but before he presses the green button, he hesitates. He knows Sam. He knows his stubborn pain in the ass little brother; there is no way he is gonna talk to him after their fight. As soon as he will hear Dean’s voice, he will hang up, yet the one person he has been wanting to talk for days, is sitting right across from him. He hands Zoë the phone. “You call him.”

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part eight here

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

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MultiVillain x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: Okay, so this is how it goes. Reader’s in love with (Villain), and (Villain) is in love with them… but no one ever said it out loud, and now Reader is marrying someone else.

Includes: Napoleon Boneparte (Misc), Human!Oogie Boogie (Disney Villain), Oswald Cobblepot (Gotham), Slenderman (Creepypasta), The Clown (Horror Villains)

Warnings: Alcohol intake, talk and hints towards murder of course, and swearing.

Notes:

Inspired by ‘Marry Me’ (Either by Thomas Rhett [The guy’s POV which is what this will be in] or Elle Mears [Your POV, if you wanna see how Reader’s thinking]) and I recommend you listen while you read! ^^

I’m so happy!! I finally wrote something more then headcanons for Oogie! And this is also my first time writing for the Clown, so be easy on me XD

I hope you like this- I for one, am actually pretty proud of it!

~~~

Napoleon Boneparte (You’re having a nighttime wedding- you made this decision of course so your friend and secret soulmate could attend):

She wants to get married, she wants it perfect She wants her grandaddy preaching the service Yeah, she wants magnolias out in the country Not too many people, save her daddy some money

Before walking into the church, I halt a moment at the side so others may get inside by me. This will be hard. I need a moment, just a moment… to pull myself together. It would be very bad, if I were to panic as Y/N makes their way down the aisle.

Hand on the church, more to hold myself together rather then to hold myself up. Am I doing the right thing? Should I be here? Should I leave? That stupid Capone said I might not be able to control myself and will object when the preacher asks… he’s not right, is he? It’s true, I don’t feel entirely under my own control right now…. But I need to be here. To support Y/N on their big day.

… I do love them, far more than any man every should a nearly married person, and even if I can’t have them for myself, I would, happy, do very near anything to make them happy.

So, if… If they want me here, as they said they do… Then I have to go in. I can’t chicken out now. I am the great Napoleon Boneparte. I can attend a wedding. Bon dieu.

Viva La France.

I can do this.

Forward!

As soon as I walk in, it is as if I am strolling into Y/N’s mind. This is just as they always wanted, with a few obvious added things by the other one that’s getting married today, like the chiselled cat head mahogany chairs… not that I think Y/N would disapprove if they weren’t, in fact, kind enough to just agree right away, seeing as it isn’t only their day.

The white makes a beautiful backdrop for their chosen accent colour, and the people in the room are exactly who I would imagine to accompany Y/N in her daily life, when I cannot be there. There’s not a sour, or in any way unexcited and unencouraging expression in the place.

Honestly, with my whole heart, wish I could feel the same as them.

Then Y/N comes into the room, and steals the breath right out of my chest. Like always.

Human!Oogie Boogie:

Ooh, she got it all planned out Yeah, I can see it all right now

I'll wear my black suit, black tie, hide out in the back I'll do a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask

Christ, what kinda shindig is this?? I’ve asked everyone and their cat, including somebodies’ mother who looks like a cat, to play a tiny game of Blackjack with me while we wait for the main event, but nothing! Nada! What’s wrong with these people? Are they dying to just sit around and contemplate their loneliness until the two hosts get hitched??

I, for one, am not playing that game today.

Of course, I’m also avoiding Y/N at all costs so maybe I’m not the best example of a man controlling his emotions.

“Oogie!”

My shoulders seize up visibly, at Y/N’s voice behind me and I stop shuffling my cards. I only decide to turn around and face them like a man, when they give up waiting and round me so I can see their beaming face.

Oh, they look so happy.

That’s nice… in a terrible, heartbreaking, awful kind of way.

“Heya, Y/N. You look great!” I start shuffling the cards again in my hand, distracting my hands from and refraining myself from, taking their hand and kissing it, or pulling them into a hug. If I did that, I think theirs an acute possibility I would end up saying something we would both regret, in a moment of determination… and devastation, of course. Can’t forget that.

Really, I can’t. It’s a very prominent feeling right now in my chest, just being here. Just knowing this is happening.

“Thank you!” They beam wider, and oh Jesus. They’re so beautiful when they look happy- I wish I could make them this happy.

… But that’s all the other guy. The one they’re hitching.

They run their bottom lip through their teeth, looking down at the cards in my hands and then smirking in that mischievous way that always somehow makes this blackheart’s insides clench up. In a good way, but still. Tilting their head, they look back up at my face. “Had no luck getting anyone to bet with you yet?”

I let out a deep, theatrical sigh full of frustration. “No! Your guests all suck, Y/N.”

“Even you?”

“No, not me. I’m the King.”

“Right,” They laugh, then goes and sits down at a nearby table. “Well we have 10 minutes until I have to go get ready to walk- I’ll play you if you want!”

My heart pops like a balloon, and goes flying, wheezing around in my rib cage as I just smile at them for a good moment- unmarried, and free, and mine. For ten to fifteen more minutes. Hell yeah, I’m going to sit down and play with them.

Why aren’t I telling them not to? I wonder, as I deal us both cards and they pick theirs up and make cheeky ‘Hmmm’ sounds to throw me off. Why don’t I tell them, right now, how I feel? Why am I doing this to myself? Why am I here, is also a valid question but I already beat myself up over that last night when I was picking out my tie. I’m her friend, and they deserve to be… yuck. Happy, with the person they chose.

And I guess, that’s the answer to all my other questions too.

Let me just enjoy this last game, this last 600 seconds with them.

Oswald Cobblepot:

I remember the night when I almost kissed her Yeah, I kinda freaked out, we'd been friends for forever And I always wondered if she felt the same way When I got the invite, I knew it was too late

And I know her daddy's been dreading this day Oh, but he don't know he ain't the only one giving her away

As soon as Y/N leaves my side to go and freshen up for the aisle walk, I find myself a seat in the very back of the church / auditorium and rest in for the event. I will not be moving from this hidden away spot, in convenient shadow, with my secret flask of terrible smelling stuff that Victor gave me before arriving, until this shitshow is over and I can leave.

I’m only here in the first place, because Y/N asked me. And, evidently, my idiocy runs deep because I accepted such an invitation. I will do anything, for them. I learnt my lesson in dealing in peoples love lives, with Edward and Isobel- I will not let my relationship with Y/N go as badly as that one did, with Ed.

So if I must sit here and watch them marry that moron, (Fiancé’s Name), then that is what I’ll do. But I won’t sit in the front and watch it, and I will be as drunk as whatever this drink can make me.

Maybe I should text Victor, the deadly assassin, and ask what the contaminants are…

An unevolved, ap-like woman walks past my seat and I must be too close to the aisle because I can hear her yap like a strangled cat about what a cute couple Y/N and (Fiancé’s Name) are together and how they must be soulmates, and I don’t think twice before gulping down a huge mouthful of the alcohol. If this is how I die, then so be it, I think bitterly as I slide further down the aisle.

“Fuck!” The word comes out of me before I can stop it, my face probably the picture of horror and disgust. This… drink, if I can even call it that -more of an undiluted acid, if you ask me, - tastes like regret and earwax.

The same ape-like woman from before flashes a stern, disapproving look at me like she thinks she’s my mother, and I show her my middle finger. Uncouth, yes, but affective. This is a bad day, and I am in no mood to deal with bitches like her. She quickly looks away, and I take another, smaller, sip of the drink.

Another moment passes and the wedding doesn’t seem to be even a second closer to ending, so I sit up straight and close my eyes, holding the flask in my lap. Take me back to a better time…

In the silent, middle-of-the-conversation lapse moment, I allow myself to look down at Y/N’s mouth. They have a soft smile, left over from whatever we were just talking about, on their face as they sit comfortably in our silence and I suddenly feel total confidence. They’re here, with me, instead of off with that boy toy / girl toy / gender neutral or fluid toy. They’re with me. That must mean that I mean something to them, right? And Ed said they looked at me like… like, they love me. Or ‘care deeply’, as he put it. But we all know that was just his stiff version of the word ‘love’. Ever since Isobel… had her unfortunate accident… he’s been focused on one emotion only and it is not, love.

Anyway, the confidence spreads through me and I smile. It mixes with my perpetual desire to kiss them, and goddamnit, I should do it. I should just lean over and press a gentle kiss on their mouth- if they aren’t interested or pull away, I can blame it on the wine between us. If not…

Butterflies erupt in my stomach and my chest, and I’ve just lean an inch forward… when their phone rings on the table and I see (Boyfriends Name) flash on the screen.

I rush to lean completely back in my chair, as they answer. I don’t like to believe fate has anything to do with Gotham, but… that was entirely too close.

My eyes snap open and I roll my shoulders back, inhaling another, bigger slug of the contents of the flask and feel even angrier.

That was, most certainly not a better time, you nitwit.

Slenderman:

Bet she got on her dress now, welcoming the guests now

I could try to find her, get it off of my chest now But I ain't gonna mess it up, so I'll wish her the best now

I’ve been sitting in the back of this church, a place I likely shouldn’t ever enter in the first place -Well, at least I’m not Offender. I would probably burn to death, in that scenario, - for over 2 hours and I only got to see Y/N for 45 and a half minutes of that time.

Not that that really matters. Its more important that they see me. I certainly don’t want to see them. I don’t wish to see them, or their wedding clothes, or their wedding guests, or the stupid moony smiles on their faces, or the cake, or their partner. Definitely not their partner. If they show their face before they absolutely have to, or worse, talk to me, I will promptly go home and kill 30 people. I don’t want to be here.

I shouldn’t be here, in fact. If I were a good man, I wouldn’t be here. A good man would never turn up to a wedding that he know’s he’s just going to sit back in and think unholy, too-fond and too-angry thoughts about one of the marriage participants. Marriage is supposedly a sacred thing, and if I were this good man that I’m thinking about, I wouldn’t urinate on it like this.

But I am not a good man.

So, really, what would I know about what a good man, would do in the first place?

Enough thinking about good men, it’s making me queasy and very uncomfortable.

I don’t look around, but I can infer with general certainty, that Y/N will be welcoming all her other guests now that I ‘allowed’ -Not that I could have stopped them. They just didn’t want to leave me in my own company,- them to let me be alone here. And they’re in their wedding clothes, which look lovely on them, and their smiling and their giddy.

Giddy. Ugh, I hate that word, especially in this sense. Defined by the Cambridge English Dictionary as ‘feeling silly, happy, and excited and showing this in your behaviour’. And by the Oxford, to ‘Make (Someone) feel excited to the point of disorientation.’. Yes, I looked up these definitions and memorised them before I came, and loathe every single word, in that order.

Because apparently, as if it wasn’t already obvious by the very fact that I’m HERE, I hate myself.

This other person has made Y/N giddy, while I have to sit here and pretend, I’m happy for them both and that I don’t feel like vomiting for the first time in 5 centuries.

But I can’t do anything about it, because I love them, Y/N, and I will… I will not, allow myself to be the reason their wedding wasn’t perfect. So, I wish them the best.

Or I try my damn hardest to.

The Clown / Jeffry Hawk / Kenneth Chase:

So I'm in my black suit, black tie, hiding out in the back Doing a strong shot of whiskey straight out the flask I'll try to make it through without crying so nobody sees Yeah, she wanna get married Yeah, she gonna get married But she ain't gonna marry me

I don’t know if I’d call this a real wedding. For one, its in the entities realm so how ‘magical’ could it really be? And for another reason, the only white thing here is my grease paint. Its pretty laughable. I would laugh, in fact, if I didn’t know it would cause a coughing fit and bring attention to me as Y/N walks down the aisle- O don’t need them looking at me. I might accidentally blurt out an ‘oopsie’ or something not-at-all funny like that, with all the whiskey I’ve injected today. Not that that would be the biggest issue with these kids seeing that I’m here, in the first place. Only Y/N knows, I’m hiding by a tree.

But, I digress I guess. They’re calling it a wedding. The big one with the beard is officiating -I guess he has an online certificate from before he was brought here,- , Y/N’s wearing a pit of plastic bag on their head like a make shift veil / bit of plastic bag fashioned sort of like a tie, and all the lovely little fingers, or survivors as they like to call themselves, watch. With silly gleaming smiles and hope in their eyes- Pft, suckers.

Honestly the idea of weddings in the first place make me a bit uncomfortable. All those wide eyes watching and perving on your happiness?? Seems pretty creepy to me, and I’ve been told I’m pretty creepy myself! So, I would know!

The fact that possibly the sweetest, perfect person I’ve ever had the pleasure of setting my gaze upon is the one getting married, has absolutely no stake on my take on weddings in this moment.

Absolutely not…

Aha… hahahaha…

I kill myself.

I kill them, too, but let’s put that on the backburner like their fingers, for now.

Let me wallow in self-pity for a while longer before we start making jokes.

Yeah, let me… I take a swig of my flask -a bee-oootiful concoction of all the most toxic hootch I have in my collection, and maybe also some actual poison maybe since I wasn’t paying much attention when I created it this morning and I keep it all in relatively the same place, - and savour the horrible flavour on my tongue. Let me wallow, for a little bit.

This is going to be a bad day, for these little fuckers when I get into the game.

#napoleon x reader #NATM Napoleon Boneparte #Oogie Boogie x Reader #Human!Oogie Boogie #Oswald Cobblepot #Oswald Cobblepot x Reader #The Penguin #The Penguin x Reader #Slenderman #Slenderman x Reader #The Clown #The Clown x Reader #Kenneth Chase #Kenneth Chase x Reader #Jeffry Hawk #Jeffry Hawk x Reader #Drabbles #Drabble

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simsadventures · 5 years

Text

Only Mine: Chapter 2: New Experience

Summary: Bucky has never been rejected by a woman before. And he truly doesn’t know what to do now. Warnings: mentions of sex (nothing explicit), mobster au, mentions of gun, swearing, a lot of swearing Word Count: 2491

A/N: I live for the cold, dangerous mobster Bucky right now! Anyone else with me? Anyway, let me know what you thought of the second chapter guys. Love you all!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Bucky was seething. Not only did you run away from his apartment, but he made one of his guys check every single Dita in the whole damn New York, and none of them matched your age or description. Was it possible that you not only left him in the middle of the night but that you gave him a fake name? No girl ever had the audacity to do something like that, and he didn’t know if he wanted to applaud you or punish you.

Didn’t matter, all he wanted was to see you again and show you who’s in control. Because right now you probably thought it was your cute ass, but that wasn’t the case. Couldn’t be. Not with Bucky. He is the fucking boss around here and you gotta learn your lesson.

He was in the middle of a meeting, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything on the table. All he could see was you on your knees in front of him. He clenched his fists and tried to breathe slowly, to regain some composure.

“Yo, Bucky! You listening, bro?” Steve hollered from the other side of the table. Bucky just nodded curtly, dismissing Steve, but because the punk was always testing him, he didn’t let it go.

“Still thinking about your mysterious Dita? I mean, bro, it’s just a pussy, let it go and find somebody else.” Sam joined the taunting. Bucky wanted to kill them both, really, but because they were his best friends, or whatever, he apparently couldn’t.

“Shut up, both you, before I make you. You were saying something about Pierce trying to regain his power, didn’t you, Sam?”

Sam smirked but let it go and went back into business mode. “Yeah, so my source is telling me that he is trying to come back. I mean, after last time didn’t work out, and we sent him on his way back to LA, he is obviously holding some grudges. He keeps running his mouth about how you played him and all that shit, totally forgetting that it was he who fucking played himself. I mean, we didn’t push him into dealing with IRA last time around, and he still smuggled some guns here for them. The man’s gotta realise that actions got consequences.”

It was true. Three years ago, Alexander Pierce was one of the highest-ranking mobsters in The Avengers, Bucky’s very own mafia. He did a lot of talking with police, looked over the finances for the whole team, and was a pretty crucial member overall. But apparently, it wasn’t enough for him, and he wanted to make some money on the side, and not tell anyone about it.

He made a deal with IRA (Irish Republican Army) who were trying to enlarge their business and smuggled some guns for them here to the US. But because Bucky’s got his eyes and ears everywhere, he learned it before the ship had the chance unload and sent them packing back to their fucking green plains. With the same breath, he kicked Pierce out, telling him he was a lucky son-of-a-bitch because any other person would be fucking beheaded for this kind of shit.

But Pierce didn’t take it as an act of mercy and was obviously trying to get back into the game. The business was going good, New York was “protected” by his guys, as long as everything went the way he wanted, and Pierce threatened this piece, and Bucky wasn’t having it.

“Alright, I don’t wanna give it too much of my attention, but tell me if something new comes up. If he crosses the border of the state, I wanna know about it, we clear?” He looked around the room and saw a bunch of nodding heads. “Good, anything else we need to discuss? Rumlow, the new club doing good?”

Brock nodded. “Yeah, boss. People are coming in like crazy, and are paying, even more, to see what’s behind the curtain. Our girls are thrilled with the tips they’re getting. So I’d say it’s even better than we anticipated, but Lang and I are gonna have to sit down and go over the numbers properly.”

“Good, keep me updated. Everyone out except you two shitheads.” Bucky didn’t look up from the paper in his hand, but everyone knew who he was talking to. Sam and Steve stayed seated and rolled their eyes. They were very well aware that the conversation will be about a certain girl, and they couldn’t help but smirk at each other.

When the door closed, Bucky leaned on his elbows and looked at the men in front of him. “I know you two dipshits find it real funny, but, for fuck’s sake, could you not voice it in front of everyone? I love you two, but Imma make a scene next time you two act like little children.”

“Yes, boss!” Sam smirked, and it earned him a flying pen landing on his head. “You think I don’t know how pathetic I sound? Finding a damn girl who I shouldn’t really give a shit about? And I don’t, it’s about the principle here. I’m supposed to be the one breaking things off, the one who can get up and leave any given moment, not the other fucking way around. I can’t let her run around New York running her mouth ‘bout how she slept with me and what? I wasn’t good enough in bed that she had to run away? Or that she just couldn’t be bothered? Every damn girl would feel like they could run their mouths, and I don’t have time for that shit.”

Both Sam and Steve were quiet because they could see that this was a serious shit for Bucky and that one wrong word in this situation could very well end up with a bullet in their bodies. Bucky wouldn’t kill them, but it would hurt like hell, and both men wanted to skip this part.

“So, what are our options? We don’t know her name, we don’t know where she lives if she’s even from New York, nothing, Zilch. Nada. So, what’s the plan here?”

Bucky sighed and tried to relax a little. You were clouding his mind, and he hated this shit. “I don’t fucking know, man.”

—-

Two weeks. That’s how long it’s been since you ran away from Bucky Barnes’ apartment. You had to go into details when you described the night to Nat, and she was ecstatic. Especially when you told you that you just got up after he fell asleep and left him there, alone. She had to promise you not to tell anyone because you didn’t need a bunch of people in your circle knowing you shagged the notorious womaniser.

It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy the night. You would have to be completely insane not to like it. But you knew it could and would never happen again. First of all, you gave him the wrong name, so even if he tried to look for you (which you seriously doubted, it was one night, after all, he wouldn’t find anything. And how else would he try to find you? Type into google your description and hope for the best? It also wasn’t almost any possibility that your paths would cross again. You didn’t plan on visiting any of his clubs or restaurants in the town, and he most definitely didn’t visit the same spots as you, so you were most probably safe.

You didn’t even know why you dreaded meeting him so much. There was, of course, the little detail of him being the mafia boss, and all that, but also just the fact that you could be one of those girls in people’s eyes, and you liked yourself too much for that. Bucky looked like the type of guy who liked his girls pretty and quiet, and you didn’t necessarily feel like either of them, but definitely not quiet. You liked to speak your opinion, and you had a lot of it too.

So you just kept your head down, delved into work and tried not to think about those piercing blue eyes too much.

It was Thursday afternoon, and you got out of the office to get some coffee for you and your colleagues. You took turns in getting the drinks, Thursday marking you as the designated person. You were waiting in your favourite coffee shop around the corner from the small publishing house you were working at. Not that you hated the big places like Costa or Starbucks, but you just liked the personal approach of the smaller sites more.

Wendy knew your order and was quickly making all of the 6 coffees when you felt a hand on the small of your back. You jumped a little and looked at where the stranger’s hand touched your body. You slowly looked up and almost fainted.

—-

“Stop here, Peter. This looks like a nice place to get my afternoon lungo. You know how I hate mainstream places.”

Peter was still pretty much a kid, he only just turned 22, but he wanted in so bad that the boys made a driver and an errand body out of him, and with enough time they were sure they could make a valuable member out of him. “Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” Peter asked politely as he parked the car.

Bucky smiled and shook his head. “No, you wait here. I can get things by myself.” Well… not by himself completely, there were always at least two guys standing near him, to protect him if shit went down.

He was still thinking about you, and, to his and everybody else’s surprise, Bucky hasn’t slept with anyone else since the night with you. He just couldn’t get you out of his head, and it would be unfair if he moaned Dita in the middle of a different encounter. Bucky’s jaw clenched a little, just thinking about you giving him a fake name.

He was in his head, only barking his order and stepped back, trying to clear his head. From the corner of his eye, he could see a woman standing there, waiting for her order to be prepared, and he felt as if he knew that ass. When he really looked at her, his eyes suddenly had a devilish glint in them. It was you. Fucking finally.

He took a few steps, so he was standing right behind you, and put his hand on the small of your back, effortlessly. You jumped a little, and it made Bucky’s smirk grow. When your eyes finally reached his face, Bucky could see you blinking rapidly, probably wishing this was a bad dream.

“Well, well, well. Who do we have here?” Bucky said, and even though you tried to create a space between the two of you, his grip tightened and let you know, that you were not the one calling shots here.

“Bucky, good to see you again.” You said with a smile, that, however, didn’t reach your eyes and your voice wavered a little, so Bucky was now sure you were more than nervous standing next to him.

“Good to see you too, Dita. Oh, wait. Your name isn’t Dita, though, is it? Wanna know how I know? I tried to look for you, doll, and it only came to me then that you actually tried to outsmart me.”

“I didn’t try to outsmart anyone. I just wasn’t comfortable giving you my name, so I gave you a different one. What’s the big deal, Bucky?” You could feel sense coming back to your body, and you weren’t about to let him intimidate you, and definitely not in your coffee break. “Go and find someone who is utterly smitten by you and leave me alone, will you? The night was fun, but that’s about it.”

His hands were suddenly on your upper arms, and he gripped them so tightly, you could feel the blood flow stopping. “What. Is. Your. Name! And that’s the last fucking time I’m gonna ask nicely.” He growled into your ear. His voice was so deep, goosebumps erupted on your skin, and you hated your body for betraying you. You were about to taunt him again when you heard Wendy’s voice.

“Y/N, your order is ready.” She chimed from behind the counter. Your eyes rolled so hard you were afraid that they would fall out. Dammit! Bucky smirked triumphantly and let go of your arms.

“At least now I have a real name, doll. You’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night,” and because he saw you taking a deep breath and opening your mouth, he shot you a cold glare, which shut you up immediately. “Not up for debate. Give me your phone.”

“Fuck you.” It wasn’t the most mature response, but this guy thought he owned the whole fucking planet and that he could tell you to jump and you’d actually jumped.

“Drax? Grab her.” Bucky growled at somebody behind him, and before you knew what was happening, your arms were behind your back with a monstrous guy holding them there. Bucky stepped closer to you, and despite both yours and Wendy’s protests, he reached your purse and pulled out your phone. He quickly typed in his phone number, gave himself a call, and held the phones close together, to be able to transfer the tracking app into your device.

You tried to struggle, but the guy holding you was built like a mountain and you had no chance.

“Great. Now that that’s out of the way, I’ll come pick you up at 7, don’t you dare to be late. Understood, Y/N?” When you didn’t say anything, he took a step closer, grabbed your chin and made you look right into his eyes. They were colder than eyes, and the danger that was surrounding him was visible in his look. You slightly shivered, and this time, not in a good way.

“You don’t wanna play this fucking game with me, Y/N. Do you fucking understand?”

All you could do was to nod, and as if magic happened, everyone who was holding suddenly let you go and you could take a deep breath. You didn’t even look at him again, just took the cups for the office and ran out of there.

Now, there wasn’t a way in hell that you wouldn’t meet him again. That asshole made sure of it. You tried to think of your options, but the only one that seemed like it could work was to throw away your phone and move to Mexico, or maybe even further so that he would never find you. But by now you realised that the universe hated you so much, that it would let Bucky find you even on the very opposite part of the world.

You were screwed, and that was an understatement of the year.

/ Next Chapter >

Only Mine: @brownlee-22 @yennewolf @heywess @bitchwhytho @thegirlwhowritesfics @eteramfools @blonddnamedhandz @everything-is-awesomesauce @albinotigerpython

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@eileenalone @sasbb23 @p8tn0lish

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@this-kitten-is-smitten @paradisiacalsparks @crazybutconfidentaf @owlyannah @lassini @sebbbystaaan

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@waiting4inspiration @voltage-my2dlove @kneel-begyourpardon

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

#bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky barnes #mobster bucky #mobster au #mafia au #mafia boss bucky #avengers #avengers fanfiction #marvel #mcu #mcu fanfiction #multiple chapters #only mine

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thefloorisbalaclava · 4 years

Text

Everywhere - Chapter 8

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female reader

Warnings: none

A/N: The song for this chapter is Love That Burns by Fleetwood Mac (some lyrics at the end). I appreciate how many people reached out and asked when this chapter would be out. I’m sorry it took me a little longer to post this chapter I just felt a little discouraged after the lack of feedback and reaction to the last chapter. I had to fall in love with my story all over again and I did :)

Summary: You and Javier enjoy long-awaited reconciliation after weeks of avoiding and pretending not to like each other. You’re able to tell him how you feel but it’s not so easy for him.

Tags: @longitud-de-onda @pascalisthepunkest @misslolasworld @aeryntheofficial @ah-callie @mrsparknuts @loki-098 @theringostarfanclub @huliabitch @thinemineours @flapjacques @opheliaelysia

"Sorry I'm late!" you yelled as you ran into the office nearly crashing into Steve.

"Whoa there! Slow down." He looked at you and pointed to your face. "What's with the shades?"

"Uh...I didn't sleep well. My eyes are all...puffy." It was mostly the truth. They didn't have to know you were up most of the night crying.

"Oh...we all saw you leave with Carrillo last night," one of the men joked and some others laughed.

"Fuck off," you shot back dropping your stuff on your desk.

"Nah man...she couldn't have gotten laid or she wouldn't be in such a bitchy mood," the man continued.

"Okay, that's it…" You stormed over to where he was sitting but Steve stopped you just before you reached him. "Move Murphy."

"No. Get over here." He grabbed your arm and led you out of the office then pulled you into a part of the hall where you couldn't be seen before snatching your sunglasses off.

"No! Dammit Steve!" You looked down at the floor then to the end of the hall. You looked everywhere but at him.

"Have you been crying?" he asked and you snatched your glasses back from him.

"I don't wanna talk about it."

"If this is about Javi-"

"Why does everyone always think it's about him?!" Your voice cracked on the last word.

"Uh...because of how you just reacted to hearing his name."

You took a few deep breaths and choked back a sob. "That obvious, huh?"

"Are you gonna be able to work this closely with him again?" He put his hands on your shoulders as you slipped your sunglasses back on.

"Yeah. I can do this." When you walked back into the office Javier was there and you could feel how tense everyone became. You went to your desk and sat down feeling Javier's eyes on you the entire time.

"This came in," Javier said, handing you a sheet of paper.

"Thanks." You took it from him without actually looking at him.

"What's with the sunglasses?" he asked, sitting on the end on your desk.

"I-"

"Hungover," Steve answered before you could and you smiled down at your desk. Thank God for him.

"She didn't even drink that much." That asshole was talking again. "Unless she and Carrillo had a nightcap."

"You know what," you started, "Maybe we did but it's none of your fucking business. You can go fuck yourself since we all know that's the only way you're getting any!"

Steve chuckled then held his hand up and you gave him a high five. You had to have a backbone working in a job like this and you couldn't be afraid to show it. This is a man's world… the song echoed in your mind. But it would be nothing, nothing without a woman or a girl…

You hadn't noticed how Javier's mood changed after hearing that you and Carrillo may have spent the night together. It wasn't true but how was he to know. The fact that you wouldn't even look at him hurt even more though. All he wanted was to make you smile even if just for a fleeting moment. He just wanted something that showed him that you didn't hate him.

"Agent Peña," you called and he stood quickly making his way over to your desk.

"Yeah?"

You finally took your sunglasses off and looked at him before rubbing your face and sighing. "We can't keep doing this."

"Uh...doing what?"

"Whether we like it or not we have to work together and I'd rather things be a little less tense between us. A lot less tense actually. We're professionals, right?"

"Right." He put both hands on your desk and leaned in. "What do we do about it?"

"Talk I guess."

"Okay, well, I think a good start would be you calling me Javier again. No more of that Agent Peña bullshit." He raised his eyebrows, waiting for your reply.

"Fine. Javier it is."

"What else?" he asked but just then the office door opened and he stood up straight.

"We'll talk later," you said then looked past him to see who came in. "Colonel...hey."

"Carrillo." Javier shook Horacio's hand quickly then walked away. He pretended to be busy with something as he listened in on your conversation. He hated how the smile never left your face as you talked to Carrillo. Granted, it was a beautiful smile, but it wasn't for him therefore he hated it.

It hadn't been a long conversation but your smile lasted long after Horacio had left. You finally looked over at Javier who was being a little too aggressive about stapling a few sheets of paper.

"Piece of shit!" he grumbled. You quietly stood and walked over. He did a double take when he noticed you standing in front of him.

"Give it to me." You held your hand out for the stapler, easily unjamming it and handing it back. "There." His fingers brushed against yours as he took the stapler back and time seemed to slow down. You noticed how his eyes trailed over your form and you remembered just how much this man had seen. His hands had explored your body once, his lips had been on yours, you two had almost…

"Anyone want lunch?" Steve walked in, startling you and walked back to your desk quickly. When you looked at Javier he was still looking at you.

---

Later that day, you took a nice, long bath and began making dinner for yourself. You always seemed to cook too much but at least it meant you would have leftovers.

You washed your hands off then poured yourself a glass of wine before putting some music on. It would be some time before the food was ready so you decided to go out and look at the sunset. You loved the colors. If you had been a little more aware of your surroundings, you would have heard the car pulling up, but you swayed to the music and practically floated to the door. You opened it to find Javier standing there with his fist raised ready to knock.

"Shit!" The wine glass nearly slipped from your hand as you jumped at the sudden appearance of Javier. "Jesus…what in the world?"

"Sorry," he started. He looked at the flowing dress you wore and smelled the food you were cooking. "You, uh, expecting someone?" he asked.

"What? No. You scared the shit out of me, Javi!" It had been some time since you addressed him that way.

"Well, you're all dressed up and…"

"It's nice spoiling yourself sometimes," you told him. "You wanna come in?" He nodded and walked inside, taking in everything around him.

"What the hell do you do with so much space?" he asked.

"I don't use all of it," you shouted from the kitchen. "Can I get you something? Beer, wine, water…"

"Beer's fine." He took off his jacket and sat at the table. Your steps faltered slightly as you walked out to bring him his beer. It was that damn pink shirt.

"Here you go." You handed him the beer then sat in the chair across from his. Not too close. Never again.

"Thanks."

"Who did you think I was expecting?" you asked.

Javier drank some of the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "What?"

"You asked if I was expecting someone. Carrillo, right?"

"Look, I know it's none of my damn business. I just-"

"I'm not sleeping with him, Javier."

"You're not?" He put the beer down and stopped holding his breath as you shook your head.

"We're close. He's a good friend and that's it. Anything more would be complicated." You played with the material of your dress. "I know all too well the result of letting your feelings get the best of you." You looked at Javier and he nodded slowly.

"The other night...you said you could've loved me but in your letter you said you did love me." He waited for your answer. "You said we needed to talk. We might as well talk about the toughest shit first."

"Javier, let me ask you something first: do you love me?" You could tell he wasn't expecting the question. "You see, not easy is it? Imagine loving someone who doesn't love you."

He played with the label on the beer bottle as he spoke. "You deserve better…"

"Yeah, I do," you admitted, "But my heart doesn't seem to think so."

Javier scoffed and shook his head. "You're not like any woman I've ever known."

"Is that a good or bad thing?"

"Good," he confessed.

"Uh...you hungry?" You stood and walked to the kitchen.

"I could eat." He had followed you and was standing in the doorway. You struggled a bit with getting the dish out of the oven and he moved to help you.

"Oh...um...gracias."

He smiled at your use of Spanish. "De nada."

Standing on your tiptoes, you tried grabbing the plates. "This is what I get for letting Carrillo help me. He put them too high." Suddenly Javier moved behind you and lifted you by the waist. You gasped in surprise and at the sudden closeness. "Thank you," you whispered.

"Of course." His hands were still at your waist, his thumbs rubbing you comfortingly. Even through your dress you could feel the heat or his hands.

"Javier," you sighed and closed your eyes. You felt yourself pressing against him and heard the trembling breath he let out against the back of your neck. His hands wandered down your thighs and squeezed. This had to stop. Stop him now.

"Tell me to stop," he said quietly. "Tell me."

You turned to face him though it was hard in the little space he left you between him and the kitchen counter. His lips were so close to yours and you knew that if you let him kiss you this night would end in a way that would complicate things beyond repair.

"Stop," you breathed and put your forehead to his chest. "God knows I don't want you to but…" You raised your head to look at him again. "...until you're able to say those three words to me and mean them, I'm off limits."

"Off limits…" he repeated, backing away from you to lean on the wall.

"Yeah. I almost gave myself to you once in the heat of the moment but...I'm a little less naive now."

"Wanting to give yourself to me is naive?" he asked.

"It is. Especially when I know that you still...do what you do. I won't be just another notch in your bedpost." You turned back to the food and began putting some on a plate for him. "Here." You handed the plate to him without even looking. You didn't move again until he walked away. You made your own plate then joined him at the table.

You ate quietly and avoided his gaze until he slammed his fork down making clang loudly against the plate. Was he really that upset over you not wanting to sleep with him?

"Can you just...look at me?" he asked, taking you by surprise. "I need you to look at me."

You swallowed the food in your mouth then looked up slowly. "I'm looking…"

"Good. Thank you. That's all I wanted."

"What?"

"I can't stand when you don't look at me or talk to me, okay? Those days when you did everything in your power to avoid me were some of the hardest days for me. I can't fucking deal with the fact that I'm not even good enough for you to look at."

"Javier…"

"I have eyes on me all the time. The government's, the cartel's, the…", he hesitated, "...women, but I don't feel a thing until you look at me. When you look at me I feel like...like I matter."

You reached out and put your hand on his. "You do matter."

"To you?" he asked.

"Yeah, to me." You smiled despite the tears in your eyes. "How could you not matter to me, Javier? I fucking love you, fool that I am." You squeezed his hand. "Now eat."

He brushed his thumb over your knuckles before pulling his hand away and eating again. You weren't sure if the fact that he couldn't bear you not looking at him was a different way of saying he loved you but it was something. Maybe it was the Javier Peña way of saying 'I love you' but you still needed to be sure. You still needed to hear those words.

He looked at you and smiled and your heart fluttered. This man could break your heart a thousand different ways and you'd still find a way to love him.

Too many times I've given too much Baby, give me your love in return Too many times I've given too much Baby, give me your love in return Give me your mind and your heart But please don't leave me with a love that burns

And don't use me as your fool 'Cause my heart can't stand another lie Please don't use me, don't use me as your fool Baby, 'cause my heart can't stand another lie And if you can't love me tomorrow Please leave me now in my room to cry

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #Narcos #Pedro Pascal #headcanon

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heavenlysan · 5 years

Text

Cruel Love 8

Words: 3,7k

Chapters:

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

(Y/N's POV)

He was the last man I was expecting to see at my door, what is he even doing here? He shouldn't be seen around here. I open the door and I quickly drag him inside.

"Are you insane?" I exasperatedly yell. Dylan was standing there with a pizza in his hands and confused for suddenly getting scolded.

"Well hello to you as well dear" He makes himself at home and gets directly to the kitchen "I know we're not supposed to be in touch but I think we seriously need to talk and I brought pizza because you always said to never show up at your place without food"

"I can't share details with you about the case you already know that" I sit at the table right in front of him.

"It's not necessarily about the case I just think something wrong is happening" He moves his bangs exposing his forehead he has a big bruise, what the hell happened? "You know how I called you and asked you about a paper?"

"Yes, but how is that connected with your bruise? What happened to you?" He starts eating a piece of pizza, why is he so calmed?

"I told you I was going to clean your apartment while you're staying here for God knows how long right?" I nod. "When I got to your apartment everything was a mess and I thought well Y/N isn't always precisely clean so it wasn't a big surprise and then since everything was triggering my perfectionistic ass I cleaned first and then later I searched for that paper, when I finally found it"

"Dylan just go to the point" I shrug playfully.

"I'm getting there, I found the paper and I left it on top your couch so I could just take out the trash go back to get the paper and then leave but that's where it got weird"

"How?"

"While I was taking out the trash I got beat up" His smile disappears. "You know how I always think positive before jumping to conclusions so I thought well Y/N doesn't live in the most secure neighbourhood so maybe someone confused me with someone, but then it got weirder. When I went back inside your apartment the paper wasn't there anymore"

I rest on my chair, not understanding what is happening right now.

"And I wanted to know exactly how close were you able to get with that man, what was his name Choi San?"

"So what you're saying is that you think it was him?" He nods and I chuckle without realizing. "How could this possible be him? For several reasons first my last case has nothing to do with him, he doesn't know you, he doesn't know I lived there and last why would he need that paper?"

"Listen I just have a big hypothesis, but first does he like you?" I keep quite genuinely not knowing how to answer that after all San only said I think I like you but didn't confirm it "Okay that silence confirms it he likes you, listen here I go he most likely found out about you being a detective but he likes you so he is just gonna pretend nothing happened to keep seeing you, but he is a jealous possessive man and just wants you all for himself and mistook our friendship with something else and beat me up and stole my paper just to mess more with me" This time I laugh loudly, hysterically.

"Ah I was having a bad day but thank you for making me laugh like that" But he doesn't laugh "There's a lot of not clicking stuff in your hypothesis first of all I don't think San is that type of man if he had found out that I'm a detective he would've killed me without hesitation. And I'll tell you why but you better keep it to yourself because I'm not supposed to be sharing stuff about the case with anyone but Irene"

"Who am I even gonna share it with? My dog? Just keep talking"

"One of his friends told me something about San, I don't remember his exact words but something about how he thought the whole relationships thing was over for San so It's been on my mind that probably he went through some bad stuff with women or was I don't know maybe betrayed and now he probably has a hard time trusting people so" I take a pause to finally get a bite "if he takes betrayal like a stab in the heart I don't think I would be alive if he knew the truth"

"And how did you manage to make him open up"

"I got lucky I guess, besides I don't really see him as a possessive man because.." I look up from my plate when I realise I was about to unveil San's recent crimes. "He doesn't have that vibe"

"Okay then maybe I'm a bad detective and I read everything wrong, but just be careful with this man the FBI sent you with zero undercover training"

"I think you're the one who should be careful, just connect the dots Dylan, you are looking for a murderer who kills people every year on the same day, when you arrived at my apartment everything was a mess like someone was desperately looking for something, the paper, the important clue to the case and then you got beat up and suddenly the biggest clue disappears. I think they know you're looking for them"

"Now I know why they didn't want me to go in your place you're a better detective than I am" He laughs despite all the things I said of the possibility of the murderer knowing his moves.

"You are the one who trained me does that mean the student surpassed the master?" He chuckles "But I'm being serious please be careful out there I don't want you dead"

"I'll be fine, you better than anyone else knows how tough it's our job we're always in danger but we keep going" He looks at me tilting his head a little bit "Being out of that office helped you a lot you look… alive"

I almost choke on my pizza "Are you saying I looked dead before?"

"No there's just something different about you, you needed some fresh air I guess"

Dylan stayed for the rest of the afternoon, we didn't really keep talking about each other's cases, he just rambled on about random things that crossed his mind. Talking with him has always been so easy and funny while working he made work less stressful. And this time it definitely felt refreshing talking with someone from my real life with no yelling like the times I talk with Irene.

The night came before we even noticed.

"Just call a taxi this street isn't really crowded and not many taxis pass around here you'll be waiting outside in the dark and the cold for too long" I said with a worried voice.

"It's okay mom, I can walk a few blocks and then take the bus no big deal" He smiles and rolls his eyes.

I cringe at him calling me mom, but I've always been protective when it comes to Dylan, my only friend "Did you even hear a word about my whole tedtalk of taking care? Or it went in one ear and out the other?"

"No, it didn't I promise I'll be careful and look behind my back wherever I go" He raises his pinky and locks it with mine.

"A pinky promise, really?" I cringe even more but he's always like this. He then smiles and waves goodbye.

I close the door and I can't help but feel worried about him, even if we got the conclusion of San not being the one who beat him up there's still someone out there who did it, who knows his moves and where I lived. If I could only remember what was on that paper but it's been quite a long time since I read all the things I compiled about all the people killed and all of the suspects.

I sit on the floor in front of the couch, there's this feeling inside of me like a pain or a knot in my heart, that makes me… sad? like a presentiment like some bad shit is gonna happen soon and it worries me, I don't want more bad things happening in my life I'm over it I already went through a lot of bad stuff I deserve a break.

I bury my hands on my pockets and I feel a tiny paper I take it out and it's San's phone number with a message

Princess I know you're mad at me but if you need me for anything don't hesitate to message me or call me whatever you prefer I'll be there as soon as I can.

When did he even put his phone number inside my pocket? A brilliant idea crosses my mind. I have his phone number, with that I can hack his phone in its entirety. Most people have their bank accounts linked to their phones so payments can be ten times easier. This way I can not only have access to his phone but all the payments he makes, all the phone calls he makes and know everything he's involved in.

Last time Irene forgot her laptop here, in just a matter of minutes I have it connected and ready to get in his phone, hacking has never been hard for me. I type all the codes I need to get inside I do everything correctly and perfectly and I finally have access to his phone. I stare blankly at the screen in front of me. Nothing. There's nothing in there no bank accounts, no contacts, nada. It's probably a new phone to communicate just with me, he really is smart and careful with everything he does.

Frustrated I go to bed and try to sleep, I've had enough of this day I feel like I'm doing everything wrong. And I can't help but feel useless normally I'm efficient in the way I do my job but right now I feel like I haven't moved forward at all.

…

"Do you really think that attractive and rich man likes you? Wake up Y/N now that he knows everything about you, he sees you with pity you're just part of a charity, his good action of the day. Be smarter for once in your life" That man yells right in front of my face "You're still ugly and useless, he just wanted to have sex and he got it and now he's just going to desapear" For once I try to speak back but I can't it feels like my words drown in my mouth and can't be released "What? you want to speak? Are you gonna be a bad girl? Just remember that nobody can hear you" He starts approaching me untying his red tie trying to touch me.

"No!" I wake up tearing up, shaking and completely covered in sweat. I thought the nightmares had ceased but I guess I was wrong. I get up to get a glass of water still trembling. In moments like this I really hate being all alone. I glance at the clock 6am when did I even sleep that much? A hard and desperate knock on the door startles me and makes me accidentally drop my glass of water.

"Y/N open the door it's me, Irene" She yells. But why is she here way earlier than she said she will? And knocking like that. I open the door and there she is but to my surprise she isn't alone she's with two cops by her side.

"What are you doing here so early I still don't have any updates"

"I ordered you to be a prostitute not a full time criminal" She pushes me hard against the wall handcuffing me "Y/N you're under arrest for the brutal murder of Oliver Miller"

"Who the fuck is that?" I try to resist but the cops interfere.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in court. You have the right to talk to a lawyer for advice before we ask you any questions"

"Get off me I didn't do shit" I yell and I kick but it's useless they're not hearing a word I say.

"You have the right to have a lawyer with you during questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed for you before any questioning if you wish. If you decide to answer questions now without a lawyer present, you have the right to stop answering at any time."

I try to run but it's all in vain, I don't even know who that man was, this has to be a big misunderstanding. They push me into the car handcuffed and barefoot. I know exactly how this works even if I speak and demand explanations, they see me as the criminal right now and they won't speak back to me and I'll just be wasting breath. I have to keep quiet till we get to the department to have an interrogation.

"Killing a man, I really don't know what was crossing your mind" Irene says without looking at me, using her sleeve to clear the fog accumulating on her window.

I know she's doing that on purpose to make me talk about it but whatever I say right now will be used against me later on. I won't fall in her trap.

We get to the station and I feel sick and cold, this just can't be real. I don't even know the man they're talking about. Irene is sitting next to me without saying a word.

"Get her ready for interrogation, the mother's victim is still in the room, she's gonna have to wait a few minutes" I recognise that man it's a detective but from a different department than mine I've seen him a few times but I don't remember his name.

I see a lot of faces passing by in front of me some familiar some unknown but this time it's different right now I'm seen as the criminal, as the guilty one and all the people passing in front of me look at me with a disgusted expression on their faces

"wasn't she a detective?"

"I saw it coming to be honest"

"but she's so young"

"I always thought she looked like a weirdo and a little suspicious"

I hear people murmuring things about me and I can't help but feel sad. I am innocent. But none of them stop to see the facts.

"You, come here we have some questions for you" Irene stands too "She has to come alone, we already have a lawyer for her" The detective from earlier says.

I go to the interrogation room I've been in charge of interrogation before but it's been just a couple of times. There's another man in the room my lawyer I assume.

"Miss y/n this is your lawyer Mr. Thompson and I'm detective Jones" He sits in front of me I'm really nervous and I just want to scream of frustration because I shouldn't be here but I have to look normal and calmed "We're aware of the case you're involved in right now, but miss you have to know that you're not above the law, why did you tortured and killed Oliver Miller?"

I keep quiet for a moment, I have to think this through and not just answer out of frustration.

"We have evidence of your previous actions against this man, it's footage of a security camera across the street from your apartment" He hands me a computer and now everything makes sense, it's the man who was harassing the other day. But this video shows what I couldn't remember, turns out this man not only said nasty things to me but he dared to touch my butt and I was right I punched him more than I remembered.

I know I didn't kill him but San… His words hit me like a thunder. Leave her alone or I promise I'll kill you. Oh God San why…

"That's you in the video isn't it?"

"It is me I just didn't know his name"

"It's obvious that my client was defending herself as you can see in the evidence Oliver Miller sexualy harassed my client" My lawyer says showing back the screen to detective Jones.

"Yes and that's why she had reasons to kill him, is that why you did it?" He yells and stomps his hands on the table. He's trying to intimate me and get me to confess out of pressure and fear.

"I did had an altercation with Oliver Miller but that was, like my lawyer just said self defense against a sexual predator and that was it I didn't see him again after that"

"The thing is miss, we don't have more footage after that little fight, did you delete it? We know how good you are at hacking" That's a good argument actually. But it's bullshit.

"No I didn't hack anything I don't have my computer with me in my new apartment"

"Really? Because we sent people to check your new apartment and there's a laptop in there and you know what we found? You were hacking something before the police showed up"

"My client said she doesn't have her computer with her in this new apartment" My lawyer replies.

"Yes my lawyer is right I don't have my computer, that laptop is not mine is Irene's, my supervisor"

"What were you hacking then?" This detective I swear… I know he's just doing his job but still.

"That was part of the case I'm working on right now and according with my contract I'm not supposed to share details about it with anyone but Irene" He looks at me exasperatedly, he knows I'm a detective and he knows getting me to confess out of pressure is not gonna work with me. He leaves me alone with my lawyer for a moment.

"Miss Y/N you need to tell me the truth so I can have good arguments did you kill that man?" My lawyer asks while opening his briefcase to get a little notebook.

"No I didn't, I swear"

He leaves the room as well. In my opinion I think I did pretty good. In a certain angle I lied, I don't remember beating that man that much or him touching my butt. But if I had mentioned it they would've imprisoned me immediately if I didn't remember beating that man they're going to think I don't remember killing him as well.

I also could've used Dylan as a witness, he saw me the whole afternoon till the night fell but they could punish him as we're not supposed to have contact. And last I could've blamed San on the spot so easily, but… I couldn't. Before throwing him to the FBI I want to speak to him directly.

Irene enters the room I thought she had left already.

"I got an agreement" She says as she sits in front of me.

"What is it?" I reply

"Mr Miller was found in front of his building his body stayed in the rain for too long and that erased every trail of the murderer. Since you're the only suspect the mom of the victim demands a punishment" She looks at me more serious than she ever looked "You're not going to jail, but you're gonna lose your credibility as a detective and after you're done with your undercover mission you're going to be fired since this brings a bad image to your department"

"You're crazy" I say shaking my head this just can't be happening right now.

"Careful with the way you talk to me I managed to get this agreement but if you don't want it we can send you to jail" She angrily gets up and stands in front of me.

I don't want to cry specially here, I hate crying in front of others. But this is so unfair. "Why should I keep going with the case, you can do it on your own then"

"It doesn't work like that you signed a contract" She sits again "The mother of the victim will think that you went to jail and for that she doesn't have to see you around the neighbourhood so you're gonna have to leave that apartment"

"Does that mean I can go back to my old apartment?" I discreetly wipe my tears away.

"No and the FBI can't get you another one, stay in the car we gave you for awhile"

This time I slam my hands on the table and she jumps startled for my sudden action "So I'm not only gonna lose my job but you also want me to be fucking homeless?"

She nods "Is that or going to jail, it's your choice"

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perfecttimeseleven · 4 years

Link

PERFECT TIMES ELEVEN EP. 3 TRANSCRIPT

ACT ONE

SCENE FIVE

(REMINGTON and JAY are still seated at the living room table. REMINGTON is leaning forward with his elbows on the table and his head in his hands, bored. JAY is leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, frustrated.)

REMINGTON

I can’t do it. All the voices are too loud, and the “Joyce” one is quiet as shit. It’s like, I‘m listening for “Joyce”, right, but out of nowhere another voice is like “Birds!” and I’m all like “Fuck!”

JAY

(fed up, without looking at REMINGTON)

Try again. It might help if you say “Joyce” along with the voice.

REMINGTON

Can’t you demonstrate? I really won‘t judge.

JAY

(still not looking at REMINGTON)

No.

REMINGTON

C’mon, just take off your little ring there — I’m guessing that’s the accessory you use and just...do your magic.

JAY

No.

(REMINGTON lets her head fall onto the table, exasperated. Jay lifts up a foot and is about to kick her hair when REMINGTON suddenly raises her head again.)

REMINGTON

Were you about to kick my hair?

JAY

Maybe. Maybe not.

REMINGTON

Better have been maybe not. My hair is my best feature. You should get it. I mean, you have lots of good features — like girl, you’re fucking hot — but your hair is pristine.

JAY

Thanks?

REMINGTON

You know what I don’t get?

JAY

(lowering her foot)

A lot of things.

REMINGTON

(ignoring JAY)

Why animals attack me. Is that…normal? I get that it was the sign I needed help with this, but…

JAY

You’re not special. Animals sense the “perfection” in us. In the whole several-human-reincarnations-in-a-row thing. Stay away from zoos.

REMINGTON

Hm. Come on, show me how to do the thing —

JAY

(betrayed)

No!

REMINGTON

Please! I’m really stupid. You’re smart and beautiful and experienced in this and beautiful. I’ll owe you one. Plus, your sugar daddy Dr. Morello’s gonna be pissed if we spent all this time sitting here and accomplished nada.

JAY

Oh, God, please never string those words together in that order again —

REMINGTON

And then he’ll dock your pay from nothing to less than nothing.

JAY

Oh, that makes so much sense. How would he be a hypothetical sugar daddy if he doesn’t pay me? That’s the opposite —

REMINGTON

Do you want your nonexistent salary to suffer, you sadistic bastard?

JAY

If I do it, will you stop talking?

REMINGTON

Probably will.

(JAY takes off her ring and places it on the table. The moment it leaves her hand, she winces.)

JAY

(in pain)

Aghh!

REMINGTON

(shocked)

Shit. Do I call 911?

JAY

(forcefully)

No. Just...watch this. Focus...

(pauses)

Here, this voice’s word is Clara...and then...say the word if it helps...

(pauses, gripping the table with both hands)

Clara...Clara...there. I’m in.

(With a painful movement, JAY grabs her ring. The moment she touches it, she relaxes.)

JAY

You’re welcome for that. Don’t fucking say a word.

(pauses)

Your turn.

(REMINGTON takes off her bracelet and places it on the table. 6. Love is a Constant.)

VOICES

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM, JOYCE, TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS.

HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE.

VOICES

TRADITION, BIRDS. HARVEST, OCEAN, CREATE, CHANGE, FIGHT, ART, FAMILY, FREEDOM.

REMINGTON/VOICES

JOYCE. JOYCE. JOYCE. JOYCE.

JAY

Remington? You good? Did it work?

REMINGTON

(strangely tenderly)

Joyce?

(Suddenly, REMINGTON lunges forward and hits JAY's hand. JAY drops her ring onto the table. Almost immediately, she freezes.)

JAY

(also incredibly tender, but even more shockingly because this is JAY we’re talking about)

Clara?

REMINGTON

(overjoyed)

Joyce!

JAY

(gently)

IS IT REALLY YOU? DO I DECEIVE MY MIND?

NEVER IN MY DAYS DID I THINK I WOULD FIND

A KIND OF LIFE AFTER DEATH, NEVERTHELESS YOU!

REMINGTON

Yes, Joyce! It’s me!

JAY

Clara!

REMINGTON

DO YOU RECALL THE EVENING WHEN WE FIRST MET?

JAY

OH, YES, I RECALL!

REMINGTON

AT THE GATE BETWEEN OUR GARDENS, RIGHT AT SUNSET?

AND YOU WORE THAT DRESS, CRIMSON,

JAY/REMINGTON

WITH THOSE BUTTONS LIKE FLOWERS?

REMINGTON

Yes!

JAY

I WAS TOO SHY AT FIRST TO EVEN TELL YOU MY NAME.

REMINGTON

YOU WERE SO SHY!

JAY

BUT WHEN YOU SMILED, MY FACE FLUSHED UP, AFLAME.

YOU MADE ME FEEL AT EASE.

REMINGTON/JAY

WE TALKED AND WROTE FOR HOURS.

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

NOT QUITE TOGETHER, BUT, MY DEAR,

WE CAN SEE LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

UNSURE WHERE THIS IS, BUT I HAVE NO FEAR

SINCE I KNOW LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

REMINGTON

I RECALL ALL THOSE SUITORS WHO’D COME TO YOUR DOOR,

AND

REMINGTON/JAY

WITH EVERY PASSING YEAR THERE’D SEEM TO BE MORE.

REMINGTON

I WAS BAFFLED WHY YOU STILL CHOSE TO SPEND YOUR AFTERNOONS

WITH ME.

JAY

OH, WELL, I WAS FORCED TO MARRY AFTER YOU PASSED.

A RICH MAN, OLD, BUT WITH MONEY AND CLASS

WE HAD NO CHILDREN. HE PASSED AWAY. I LIVED OUT THE REST OF MY DAYS LONELY.

REMINGTON/JAY

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

NOT QUITE TOGETHER, BUT, MY DEAR,

WE CAN SEE LOVE IS A CONSTANT.

WE’VE LIVED, WE’VE DIED, AND NOW WE’RE HERE!

UNSURE WHERE THIS IS, BUT I HAVE NO FEAR

SINCE I KNOW LOVE IS A CONSTANT!

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE IS A CONSTANT, OH,

OUR LOVE

REMINGTON/JAY

I’D FORGOTTEN HOW MUCH I TRULY MISS

OUR TALKS, LONG AFTERNOONS, YOUR TENDER KISS

OH, WHAT I’D GIVE TO LIVE WITH YOU AS MY WIFE.

CLOSE YOUR EYES AND EMBRACE ME, MY LOVE

FORGET THESE HIDEOUS BODIES WE’RE TRAPPED INSIDE OF

OH, HOW I’VE YEARNED FOR YOUR TOUCH ALL MY LIFE.

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT...

(Someone is knocking at the door between the kitchen and the living room. It’s DAISY.)

DAISY

Remy? Jay?

(DAISY knocks again.)

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT

DR. MORELLO

Are they still in there?

DAISY

I’m pretty sure. Hang on. Guys?

(DAISY knocks a couple more times, louder.)

VOICES

OOH, LOVE IS THEIR CONSTANT

(DR. MORELLO and DAISY enter to see REMINGTON and JAY embrace.)

DR. MORELLO/DAISY

Janette!/Remy fuckin’ Ratatouille!

(DR. MORELLO immediately notices JAY’s ring and REMINGTON’s bracelet on the table. He grabs JAY’s ring and shoves it in her hand. DAISY takes REMINGTON’s bracelet and does the same. JAY instantly snaps out of her trance.)

JAY

Holy —! God! Remington!

(pushing REMINGTON off of her. REMINGTON stumbles a little, almost falling off the table.)

REMINGTON

Shit!

JAY

What the hell was that?

(JAY quickly slips the ring onto her finger, evidently very embarrassed. REMINGTON regains her footing.)

REMINGTON

Eh, who cares. Let’s pick up where they left off —

DR. MORELLO/DAISY/JAY

No!

DR. MORELLO

Remington! Jay! Get down from the table immediately. Sit down!

REMINGTON

(noticing DR. MORELLO and DAISY for the first time)

Oh, shit. Hello. Sorry.

(REMINGTON and JAY make their way down back to their chairs. DAISY nudges DR. MORELLO.)

DAISY

See, I hate to say “I told you so”, but I told you so.

DR. MORELLO

Kids, what happened here?

(There’s a pause.)

REMINGTON

I think we got possessed. By dead lesbians.

DR. MORELLO

Oh.

REMINGTON

The word is most definitely Joyce now though. She’s, uh, she’s got Joyce.

JAY

You know how one of my voices is, uh, named Joyce? And how her word is Clara? She’s Clara.

REMINGTON

I guess Joyce and Clara knew each other back in the day...both in the literal and, uh, biblical sense...

DR. MORELLO

There’s really no need for profane hand motions. Go on.

REMINGTON

And then, well, we ended up in a situation when both of our accessories were off —

JAY

You mean your accessory was off and then you slapped mine out of my hand.

REMINGTON

Clara slapped it out of your hand. Anyway, then we got possessed.

DR. MORELLO

Okay.

REMINGTON

Yeah. Um...what do your big doctor brains think about that?

DR. MORELLO

I...I have never seen anything like this before...but I’m guessing the explanation is actually quite simple.

JAY/REMINGTON

What?

DR. MORELLO

The word a voice says is its most recurring thought manifesting itself as an imprint on the soul. Now, a person has to be quite important to someone if they’re, quite literally, all they think about. And for that to be something going both ways...these ladies certainly had an exceptional bond.

DAISY

Star-crossed gal pals.

DR. MORELLO

Yes. Soulmates, if you will.

JAY

Hold up. “Soulmates” as in Clara and Joyce were just one in a billion, or “soulmates” as in my soul and Remington’s soul?

DR. MORELLO

We have no way of knowing right now, but from what I think — well, this is quite a rare case, especially the fact that an echo of a previous life was able to take over the current host...I’d conclude that, yes, you are “soul-mates”, quite literally.

REMINGTON

So! How ‘bout it, eh, soulmate?

JAY

(ignoring REMINGTON)

That can’t be a real thing, can it?

REMINGTON

Only one way to find out!

DR. MORELLO

Now, seeing as you have actually uncovered some important information, you may have recreational time for the rest of the evening. I need to look deeper into this. Uh, there’s some video games in the cabinet. I’ll be in my office upstairs. Also, I was going to come in here to let you know we’re having pizza for dinner. It should be coming in half an hour.

DAISY

And I made sugar cookies.

(DR. MORELLO leaves dizzily. He looks like he has a headache.)

REMINGTON

Swell! Some quality soulmate time?

JAY

Someone get her away from me.

(DAISY looks back and forth from JAY to REMINGTON. She’s a smart kid. She knows when she should leave people alone.)

REMINGTON

Oh, I get it. You’re too good for me.

DAISY

I’m...gonna head out.

(DAISY exits.)

JAY

Listen, kid, you don’t know shit about me. I don’t know shit about you. It’s better if it stays that way. I don’t know what he’s talking about with this soulmate shit, but I do know that you don’t want to get involved with me and my life.

REMINGTON

Oh, ha. ’Cause you’ve got some kind of “issues”?

(JAY is silent.)

REMINGTON

Wow. Damn, I didn’t know someone could be this angsty in real life. With your wearing-all-black deal and e-girl hair and ear piercings and shit? Ooh, I bet you pierced them yourself with, like, the finger bone of a shark you strangled or something.

JAY

Sharks don’t have fucking fingers. And no; I got them pierced at a mall Claire’s when I was 11.

REMINGTON

(finding this funny)

Off brand, but okay —

JAY

Yeah. Fucking loved Claire’s. Still do. What about it?

(There’s a pause.)

REMINGTON

(quietly)

Nothing. Claire’s is valid. You’re a lady of fine taste.

(REMINGTON and JAY are silent for a moment.)

REMINGTON

They called our bodies “hideous”. Did you hear that?

JAY

Yeah, that was uncalled for.

(They both chuckle a bit awkwardly.)

REMINGTON

Sorry for earlier. It was my fault.

JAY

(tensing back up)

Yeah, it was.

REMINGTON

You could’ve told me listening to your voices...hurt.

(pauses)

How does that even work?

JAY

Didn’t tell you ‘cause I knew you’d ask that.

(pauses, before sighing)

I’m...in a peculiar situation. See, once the voices started to manifest in my soul’s earlier hosts, they...joined groups, or organizations. Similar to this one, but more serious. Cult-ish, almost. They’d dedicate their shitty lives to preserving the goodness of the soul to continue the line of human hosts. One organization like that a good half of my voices was involved with — it was large and thriving and would track down new hosts.

REMINGTON

That’s cool, but why does that...cause pain?

JAY

See, look past the single word a voice presents itself as and you “unlock” the memories of that person. Over time, the more you listen to them, the more they become an interactive collection of memories — almost a voice that reacts to your thoughts.

REMINGTON

So you can talk to them?

JAY

I guess.

REMINGTON

Wack.

(pauses)

Still don’t get why that causes pain.

JAY

We’re humans. We’ve got a limited view of morality that’s shaped by our society. Our perception of “good” or “bad” is probably different than what ultimately is considered by the universe as “good” enough to give a soul a human life. And...some of my voices have views of good or bad that are...incredibly outdated.

REMINGTON

(knowingly, slyly)

Ohhhh.

JAY

What?

REMINGTON

Your voices probably tell you to...ah...hee hee.

JAY

(more frustrated)

What?

REMINGTON

To, ah,

(pauses)

Pray the gay away —

JAY

God.

REMINGTON

They detect your sinful lusty thoughts about the incredibly attractive woman sitting across from you and go “oh, no, dear Janette —“

JAY

Oh God.

REMINGTON

Yeah, don’t pretend I didn’t hear that! “Oh, Janette, you mustn’t! Thinking about holding hands before marriage was already stepping on the line, but this? Oh! Unacceptable!”

JAY

No.

(pauses)

Though in a weird way, you’re on the right track.

REMINGTON

Ha!

JAY

Not like that.

(pauses)

It’s a lot of things, combined. See, I, ah,

(sucks air through teeth, evidently uncomfortable)

don’t fully identify as female, I think. I mean, I use female pronouns, but...I don’t know. I don’t fucking know because I don’t have room to figure out who I am. Don’t even have my fucking brain to myself. It started when I was a kid, but, throughout the years, it’s just gotten worse and worse and now — they just...scream at me. And it’s fucking loud. It’s so fucking loud.

(7. Bad Luck.)

JAY

IF I THINK I’M SOMETHING OTHER THAN WHAT I’VE TOLD THE WORLD I AM,

I’VE GOT TEN VOICES TELLING ME OTHERWISE.

IF I DON’T EXACTLY STRIKE MYSELF AS A WOMAN OR A MAN,

EACH ONE OF THEM DOESN’T HESITATE TO PULVERIZE

WHATEVER CONCEPTION OF MYSELF I HAVE AN INKLING OF

THAT DOESN’T FIT THEIR TINY MIND.

YOU’RE LUCKY YOU HAVEN’T FREED YOUR VOICES YET.

YOU MIGHT NOT LIKE WHAT YOU FIND!

THESE TEN SUCKERS HAVE WASTED THEIR YEARS

LIVING LIKE BEES IN A HIVE,

TRAINED TO MAINTAIN THE SOUL’S PURITY.

WHAT A TERRIBLE WAY TO STAY ALIVE!

THEY’RE STUCK UP, SHITTY PEOPLE —

REMINGTON

EVEN JOYCE?

JAY

EVEN JOYCE.

YOU KNOW, IT FUCKING SUCKS TO BE A "CHOSEN ONE"

‘CAUSE IT JUST MEANS YOU NEVER GET ANY CHOICE!

THEY SAY "JAY! YOU’RE PART OF A LEGACY!”

“JAY! WITH YOUR HELP, WE’RE GONNA GO SO FAR!”

“JAY! THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!”

“C’MON, JUST PLAY YOUR TINY ROLE IN PRESERVING THIS SOUL.”

“JAY! YOU MUST STAY CLEAN AND PURE!

A HUMAN REINCARNATION WE GOTTA GUARANTEE!"

WELL, SORRY YOU GOT A HOST SO IMMATURE —

IT WAS YOUR BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME.

AS A KID, I’D DO ANYTHING TO REBEL.

I’D STEAL SHIT AND I WOULD LIE.

I WAS A BIT OF AN ATTENTION WHORE, IF YOU COULDN’T TELL

AND I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHY.

TO PISS OFF THE VOICES, OF COURSE, JUST FOR FUN!

I’D NEVER REALLY BEEN FORGIVING.

THEY CALLED ME "ABOMINATION" SO I GAVE THEM ONE.

BEING AT WAR WITH YOURSELF’S A NEAT WAY OF LIVING.

OH, AND WAY BACK WHEN I WAS FOUR,

MY FATHER LEFT MY MOM AND ME.

HE THOUGHT I WAS A FREAK OR A BURDEN OR A CHORE;

MOST LIKELY, SOME COMBO OF THE THREE.

MY HOUSE GOT SET ON FIRE A FEW YEARS BACK

BUT THERE’S NO TIME FOR THAT STORY.

SUMMARY: MY MOM PERISHED IN THAT ATTACK.

IT WAS DEPRESSING AND A BIT GORY,

SO EVERYONE GOES

"JAY, WE’RE SO SORRY ABOUT IT!"

WELL, I DON’T NEED YOUR BULLSHIT APOLOGY!

AND DO YOU REALLY CARE HOW I FEEL? I DOUBT IT.

DREAM ON, YOU CUCK. YOU’RE FRESH OUTTA LUCK.

"JAY! YOU DIDN’T DESERVE IT!"

WHAT’S SAD IS I DON’T AGREE

NO ONE’S GOT THE GUTS TO ADMIT IT WAS JUST

THEIR BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME!

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

UNLESS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR YOUR LIFE TO GET WORSE,

LEAVE ME ALONE.

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

YOU GOTTA TRUST ME ON THIS; IT’S LIKE A CURSE

SO LEAVE ME ALONE.

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

UNLESS YOU WANNA END UP A CORPSE IN A HEARSE,

LEAVE ME ALONE!

I’M NATURE’S BAD LUCK CHARM.

STAY AWAY FROM ME, STAY AWAY FROM HARM.

YOU GOTTA TRUST ME ON THIS; IT’S LIKE A CURSE

SO LEAVE ME ALONE!

"JAY! YOU’RE PART OF A LEGACY!”

“JAY! WITH YOUR HELP, WE’RE GONNA GO SO FAR!”

“JAY! THIS IS YOUR DESTINY!”

“C’MON, JUST PLAY YOUR TINY ROLE IN PRESERVING THIS SOUL.”

JAY! WHAT A FUCKED UP KID! ON THAT, EVERYONE CAN AGREE!

JAY! OH, I’M SORRY YOU DID,

BUT IT WAS BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME.

(gesturing to REMINGTON, imitating her)

"JAY! DON’T YOU WANNA HANG OUT?”

“JAY! C’MON, LET’S GET TO KNOW EACH OTHER!"

(to REMINGTON)

CAN’T YOU GET MY SIGNS OR DO I HAVE TO SHOUT

“MOVE ON BECAUSE I’M JUST A WASTE OF YOUR TIME!’

"JAY, WHY ARE YOU BEING SO RUDE?"

I’M TRYING TO PROTECT YOU! CAN’T YOU SEE?

ANYONE AND EVERYONE I LOVE IS SCREWED!

IT’S ALWAYS BAD LUCK TO GET STUCK WITH ME!

#perfect times eleven #transcript #px11 #jay mazziotta #remington long #Rupert morello #daisy noxx #musical theatre #musicals #podcast

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twi-sight2020 · 4 years

Text

I’ve got a theory...that it’s a Vampire

So before I say anything else, I just wanna say, wow...I have so many followers. Thank you all so much! But also, who would have thought that, in the year of our lord 2020 the most popular blog I’ve had would be me reviewing Twilight. The fandom is still very much alive and well! But damn, so many of you. I love you all! So Bella is supposed to give her theories, but she begs for another question to be answered first. She wants to know how he found here which is....her scent. Charming. Then she is aghast at his theory that her brain is on a different frequency than everyone else’s and that’s why he cannot hear her thoughts. Edward pretty much sums up my thoughts on this with this. “I hear voices in my mind and you’re worried that you’re the freak?” All that being said, again, here we have this mystery about Bella, this aspect of her that could have been built upon and explored. After all, as of yet, the villains have yet to be introduced, it seems like this is set up to be more of a self contained story and yet.... sigh. This is pretty much dropped. So after a bit of these, Edward demands to hear her latest theory which is ....vampire. Yes, after 124 pages Bella drops the “V” word and then explains to Edward all about Jacob and how she flirted with poor Jacob to get the information about the “legends” and she came to the vampire conclusion....and then decided she didn’t care . Edward is, honestly kind of appalled that she doesn’t care if he is a murderous little critter. Like....bless him, he knows that he is trash sometimes and is very concerned when other’s don’t see it. Side note: Edward also feels sorry for Jacob, because , bless , the poor boy did not deserve this. We get the “How long have you been seventeen line” and I honestly love how Edward is just like “Yea....done that for a while “ And then they go through the myths and facts of vampires. They don’t burn in the sun, no sleeping in coffins. And he doesn’t sleep, at all, ever. In fact he seems wistful about the idea . Kinda makes you feel sorry for him for a minute. Which ...i go back and forth with Edward, tbh. Sometimes I love him..other times I wanna throttle him. It’s a tough road. So then he, of course, brings up the fact that, you know....vampires have very very special diets. Bella tells him that Jacob mentioned his family doesn’t nom nom on people. Edward points out that, yes, they do try to avoid people but they are still, you know, dangerous. of course, Bella has the self preservation of a capybara ...hell, at least they can hide in water, Bella just....dives right into danger every time. She’s like my cat that tries to jump on the dog that chases her and nips at her on the daily. no self preservation, nada. Course, Bella at least is going after a hot vampire. My cat is just...not right. So Edward explains he doesn’t want to be a monster, the Cullen’s “vegetarian” diet, and the fact that sometimes it’s harder than others to keep from biting humans. And oh, Bella, honey, he might have told you he wanted to kill you but, you have NO idea how close you came to being Lunch. Bella clues Edward into the fact that she’s noticed how his eyes change when he’s hungry. Which he finds amusing, but then...then he explains how it “makes him nervous” to be away from her. Now, it kinda makes sense from Edwards point of view, because this girl is...well she’s kinda taken over his brain. Her smell drives him nuts and yet he feels protective of her because she NEARLY DIES EVERY FIVE SECONDS. as he points out when he sees the scrapes on her hands. Again, this could have been a really neat plot, him being destined to be the one to either save her or kill her...but no....not that. Because, instead, we get Bella also being anxious when she doesn’t see him because.... teenage hormones? Idk...i get being upset when you don’t see your crush but the anxiety bit is kinda over the top, especially when she starts FUCKING CRYING when he points out that it’s one thing for him to be fixated on her and another for him to drag her into it. *sighs* Maybe this is a me thing, I dunno, but crying makes...no sense to be at this part. If it were supposed to be the rush of all the night’s events catching up to her...sure, but over this? This girl was completely unfazed 5 minutes after being rescued from a possible gang rape, but is crying over this? I don’t get it, I really don’t. I know I’m basically the worst at reading emotions, and I really don’t understand people a lot of the time but this...... seriously, if anyone has any idea on how her brain works...drop me a line? Cause I’m...really at a loss for understanding this part. Like maybe it’s because I’m a #dead-inside millennial, or maybeI’m a robot , but the emotional trainwreck that is Bella.....yikes. Edward apologies for making Bella have an random crying spell, and then ask her what she was thinking when she was nearly attacked-cause, you know, bringing up trauma is a great way to make someone feel better/s. Like, come on Edward, you’ve been alive for a long ass time, and yet you really suck at people. Apparently Bella thought about trying to fight and scream because she....falls down alot when running. Edward says he’s fighting fate trying to keep her alive and i’m just like???? “Dude...compassion??? She almost ...fucking hell.’ I am a bit frustrated with these children. Edward promises to be in school tomorrow and then ask Bella to promise not to go into the woods alone because ‘he’s not always the most dangerous thing out there.” Bella...you’ve been nothing but curious this whole time, but when he says “Let’s just leave it at that.” you have no questions? None? You’ve had it confirmed vampires are real and one is telling you there is worst stuff out there and you just....let it go? Like I get we’re setting things up for a sequel but...... come on, it’s a bit lazy for her not to prod a bit. Also, does this mean Edward was stalking her when she went into the woods that morning to? Jesus... He tells her to sleep well and then we get a bit on how...nice his breath smells. Which, i know, it’s all part of his apex predator self to draw people in but it’s still a weird thing to read about. She gets inside, takes a shower and realizes she’s freezing and begins shaking and trembling. she talks about her mind trying to suppress things and, for a brief minute, I think she’s actually going to have a ...reaction to everything that happened. Now, mind you, I don’t want her to be a shrinking violet, but her emotional responses are so ...over the place. She cries when Edward isn’t around, or when he points out he’s dangerous... but when she is put in actual danger, it rolls off of her. Gotta say it confuses me but...what do i know? I can watch horror movies till kingdom come, ready mystery novels, see medical gore and autopsy with no problem but I cry every damn time a pet dies in a movie...or music video. (I’m looking at you”Happier” by Bastille) So she’s not freaking out over the days evens, no, instead we’ve getting one of the most famous (and sometimes infamous) lines from the series. “About three things I was absolutely positive. First, Edward was a vampire. Second, there was a part of him-and I didn’t know how potent that part might be-that thirsted for my blood. And third, I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” Imma...just need a sec to unpack this here. Obviously we know he’s a vampire and it’s pretty obvious he wants to eat her (and not in the fun way) but the last bit.... In love with him...oof. I know teen love comes on fast and hard but this...you’ve only had a few actual conversations with him, and even fewer have been him not being a douche. Do I think she’s in LUST with him? Definitely. IS she in awe of him saving her life all the time? Of course. Intrigued because...vampire? Oh hell yea. But...you’re not in love with him Bella. Do I think she is later? Of course. But at this moment, I think it’s way more infatuation than love. She knows very little about him, in fact, with the exception of the vampire bit, I know more about a stranger from their facebook page than what she knows about him in this moment. Edward has stalked Bella enough that he knows everything about her. And while that brings up a whole fuck ton of other issues, at least it means he knows enough about her to have genuine feelings (as creepy as his behavior may be) But Bella, you’re not in love...not yet. Alright guys, i know this one was a bit more ranty then some of my other’s and this may turn some people off , but i said from the start I was gonna be honest about the good, the bad, and my feelings on it. I don’t care if people disagree, in fact, I welcome discussion. If you wanna message me and talk about certain bits, go for it! Just, make it clear if it’s a question/conversation you wanna have in private or something you’re cool with me sharing on the blog to futher discussion. Alright guys, love you all and , until next time, Stay safe!

#twilight #stephanie meyer #twilight reread 2020 #edward cullen #Bella Swan #twilight reread #Yes the blog title is a buffy reference

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cherryrogers · 5 years

Text

Falling For You.

— Chapter 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst if you squint, mostly fluff.

(Modern High School AU)

Synopsis: Unlike most teenagers, you had your life completely mapped out. You’d graduate high school, go off to the university of your dreams, and live the life that your parents always wanted you to. That was always the plan.

Falling for Bucky Barnes, however, was never part of the plan.

Being ‘just friends’ isn’t enough. Becoming anything more is too much. But suppressed feelings can’t stay ignored forever, and you were about to learn that a lot sooner than you thought.

Inspired by the song ‘Fallingforyou’ - The 1975.

A/N: a lot of cheesiness, i’m warning you - but it’s cute, alright? as per, feedback is appreciated !! please enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

__________________________________________

If there was one thing you’d noticed about Bucky, it was that the boy had zero physical flaws. None, zilch, nada.

Not to you, anyway.

After finally admitting to yourself that there perhaps were some feelings deep inside of you for Bucky, you’d started letting yourself think things about him that you usually just suppressed into the depths of your mind. Like... how unbelievably attractive he was.

You know when you could just stare at a person forever, analyse the movement of their lips, and the furrow of their brows, and the crinkle of their eyes when they let out a laugh so melodic that it makes your heart jump? Yeah, well, that’s how you felt about Bucky.

God, it felt good to finally let that out.

But you weren’t okay with him yet, so the thoughts had to be suppressed again, unfortunately,

Standing in the large doorway of his dad’s autoshop, you contemplated what your next move would be. Did you call out his name? Wait for him to notice you? Just leave and call him later? You really didn’t want to disrupt him, but maybe that’s because you were pretty happy just staring at the boy.

Seeing Bucky in anything other than a t-shirt, black jeans, and his signature leather jacket was sort of disorientating. However, you certainly weren’t objecting to the look was currently styling. Grey sweatpants replaced the usual tight jeans, while a white undershirt actually revealed his arms. Bucky wasn’t ripped - he didn’t work out, or eat well, for that matter. Yet somehow, his muscles still flexed as he dragged a rag over the dark blue hood of the car he was greasing.

You knew that Bucky helped out a lot at the auto-shop, but you didn’t picture him looking so gorgeous doing it.

Okay, stop. You’re here to have a serious conversation with him - not to stare at him for the next thirty minutes.

“Bucky?” You called out without a second thought, standing awkwardly with you hands in front of your body, playing nervously with your fingers.

The boy’s head snapped up at the sound of his name, and the corner of his mouth upturned ever so slightly at your presence. He motioned you over with a hand, and you walked over to where he was working hesitantly.

He had called you that Wednesday night, after you’d gotten home from dinner with Pietro. Hanging out with the twin had relieved you from some of your stress. He had took you to a small cafe not far from the school where you got coffee and sandwiches, and it was actually pretty fun. You’d told him that you weren’t having a great day, and he completely understood.

“You can always talk to me, (Y/N). About anything.”

It was reassuring to hear. He knew that you were more inclined to talk about all of your problems to Wanda, or Bucky, but he wanted you to know that he genuinely did care. A lot. And it was comforting - you were glad you had a friend like Pietro in your life. Only a friend, contrary to Wanda thinking that there could be something else.

On the phone, Bucky had said that he didn’t want to just talk about it over the phone, and that you could come to the auto-shop on Thursday night after school. You agreed, also not wanting to have the discussion indirectly.

And here you were, watching as Bucky finished up whatever little bit of the car he was working on, before he put the rag down, wiped his hands clean with a nearby towel, and focused his full attention on you.

He already had an apologetic glint in his eye. “Hey.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, but kept your tone on the soft side like him.“Hi.”

It looked like he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation, which was fair enough. His body language indicated that he was anxious - repeatedly tucking his hands into his pockets only to take them out again, biting the inside of his cheek... but he didn’t have to be nervous. Sure, you were a little frustrated with him, but you genuinely wanted to hear him out.

“I’m not mad at you.” You assured him, causing the boy’s body to stiffen.

“You’re not?”

“No.” You brushed a piece of hair out of your face. “I was yesterday, but not anymore. Now, I just want us to be okay.”

Bucky’s tenseness seemed to ease at your words. “Me too. I don’t like when you’re upset, especially when it’s my fault for upsetting you.”

His apologetic gaze found yours, and you couldn’t help but feel bad. Bucky’s intentions were never to hurt you; you were aware of that.

“So, how long have you been friends with her?” You cut to the chase, eager to clear the air and forget about the whole situation.

The boy’s hands tucked back into his pockets one final time, staying there as he began his explanation. “When we broke up, Natasha and I were on good terms. We didn’t hang out for a while after that, but Sam and Steve were still friends with her. We all used to hang out together, so when the break up happened, it was sorta weird for the guys. They didn’t like leaving me out if they hung out with Natasha, and leaving her out to hang out with me. Eventually, Steve suggested that we all start hanging out again. I wasn’t sure about the idea, but I went along with it because I could tell they just wanted to give it a shot. And, well, it was good. A little awkward at first, but good.

We didn’t have the same relationship as we used to, but we still enjoyed each other’s company. It felt nice, being okay with her again, and I didn’t feel like I wanted anything more than just a friendship with her.”

“Did you ever think about it, though?” You asked softly. “Getting back together with her?”

Bucky thought for a moment, before rubbing his jaw with a sigh. “I mean, the thought passed my mind. But it never felt right; it never felt like something I really wanted. Plus...”

“Plus what?” You eyed him curiously.

He let out a laugh, shaking his head in embarrassment. “Plus, well... I had someone else on my mind.”

“Someone else?” Who else would he have- oh.

“Uh huh - met her at the start of junior year. Real smart and sweet; kinda drove me crazy since she never liked me back, though.”

He was wrong. You did like him back.

You chuckled lightly, trying to suppress a blush from coating your cheeks. “You can’t charm your way outta this one, Buck. It doesn’t bother me that you’re still friends with her, I just don’t understand why you hid it from me.”

As the conversation turned more serious again, Bucky straightened his lips into a narrow line again. “Like I said - I didn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me and her.”

There it was again. He was worried about you getting the wrong idea.

“You didn’t want me to think that you still had feelings for her? Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

“Well, yeah.” The boy shrugged, causing to to scoff.

“Bucky, you could’ve just told me that.”

“You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“How do you know that?” You quirked a brow, a little offended by his statement. Would you have thought he was lying? No, of course not. Maybe there would’ve been a tiny, tiny bit of doubt in your mind. But Bucky didn’t lie to you - he liked to hide the truth here and there, but he wouldn’t just lie straight to your face.

“You wouldn’t fully believe me, even if you wanted to.”

God, it’s like he could read your mind.

“Can I ask why it matters so much to you? If I did think that you still had feelings for Natasha, why would that be such a problem?” Sure, it would mean that you had the wrong idea, but if it wasn’t true, why would it bother him so much that you thought that?

There was another silence, and you could practically hear the cogs in Bucky’s brain working to come up with an answer.

After a few moments, the boy exhaled slowly, his head slightly lowered as he looked up at you through his lashes, a lazy smile on his lips. “You’re my best girl.”

The four words made you heart stop indefinitely. “I-I’m your what?”

Your widened eyes caused him to laugh, as he stopped forward and placed his hands on your upper arms. “You know how I’m your favourite person in the whole entire world?”

“I mean, I don’t-”

“Well...” Bucky interrupted, earning himself another eye roll. “You also happen to be mine.”

“Is there a point to this?” You raised a brow, trying to calm the nerves in your stomach. He just said you’re his favourite person in the whole entire world. The whole. Entire. World! That’s a lot of people that he could’ve chosen from.

“If you thought that I liked Natasha, I was afraid that... that it would push you away. You’re the only important girl in my life, (Y/N). I didn’t want you to doubt that.” His baby blues locked with yours as he spoke, and you couldn’t bring yourself to break the eye contact.

You knew that you and Bucky were best friends. Even if you never said it to each other out loud, the regular movie nights, weekend outings and generally spending almost every day together wasn’t because you had any sort of feelings for one another - even if they were there - but because you’d never met someone that you were so comfortable with. And to actually hear that from him? That you’re his best girl? His favourite person? It made your heart swell to the size of a balloon.

If you hadn’t already admitted to yourself your feelings for him, you’d sure as hell be doing it in this moment. It made you wonder if Wanda really was right; that he really did feel something for you. Was it so far-fetched to think that after he just told you how important you were to him?

Not that it changed anything, since you weren’t ever going to act on your feelings. That was still out of the question.

“I’m not sure Winifred would be too happy to hear that.” You bit back a smile, prompting Bucky to scoff.

“Of course she’s important - she’s my ma. I was makin’ a point to you, sweets.”

“I know, Bucky.” You chuckled, shrugging his hands off your arms and taking a step closer to him. “Seriously though, can we just tell each other things from now on? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“I know.” A sweet smile overcame his lips. “I’m sorry about this whole... situation. From now on, no more hiding.”

“It’s alright, Buck.” You assured him. “No more hiding.”

You considered giving him a hug, or reaching out to reassuringly squeeze his hand, but the ringing of your phone in your back pocket stopped you front doing any of those things. It was probably for the best, anyway. Being that physically close to him would only set off your heart rate again.

Actually, never mind. The phone call was not for the best. Definitely not.

Bucky crinkled his brows as he saw you gulp anxiously while looking down at your screen, the name ‘Mom’ written across it.

“Shit.” You muttered. It was only a matter of time before the woman called. “I... I’ve gotta take this.”

The boy just nodded understandingly, beginning to tidy up all of the stuff he had lying around next to the car as you distanced yourself a little from him, hesitantly pressing your finger onto the green answer button.

You held the phone up to your ear reluctantly. “Hello?”

“(Y/N).” The stern voice through the speaker cut through you like a knife. “Are you aware of why I’m calling?”

“To ask me how I’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks?” You asked, knowing that clearly wasn’t the answer she was looking for.

You heard an evident sigh. “Your chemistry grade; you got a B. Would you like to explain yourself? Or do you want me to tell you how unacceptable that is first?”

“Mom.” You groaned. It didn’t even matter what you said at this point; the woman would never understand how ridiculous she sounded. “I was only a couple of marks off an A, I promise. I just didn’t study enough over the weekend, but-”

“A couple of marks off isn’t good enough for Harvard, (Y/N).”

Harvard? Since when were you going to Harvard? Sure, you wanted to go to a top university, but Harvard was far away from Brooklyn, far away from everything that you knew.

“I don’t want to go to Harvard, Mom.”

“Then where do you want to go?”

There was a short silence. “I’m... not sure yet. Somewhere not far from Brooklyn.”

An empty laugh sounded through the phone, making your heart clench. “(Y/N), if your father and I stayed near Brooklyn for our entire lives, we’d never get anything done.” Wow, it’s not like they had a daughter in Brooklyn to take care of. “You’re lucky we’re even putting money towards your tuition. You’re eighteen - you should have a job by now.”

Maybe you could get one if you didn’t spend all of your free time studying. “I don’t have time for a job, Mom. And I’m not going to Harvard. It’s not the place for me, I know it’s not.”

“We’ll be coming home in a couple of weeks; this discussion can continue then.”

“Awesome.” You mumbled, not quiet enough for your mother to not hear, however.

“Enough of that tone, young lady. If I find out that you’re getting anything but A’s after today, precautions will be put in place, (Y/N). B’s aren’t good enough for Ivy League schools - including Harvard.”

Fucking Harvard.

“I won’t get another B, Mom.” You said defeatedly, just wanting to end the call.

“That’s what I thought. Goodbye, (Y/N).”

Before you could even return the goodbye, the call ended. God, you couldn’t stand her. Harvard? Where the hell did the plan for you going to Harvard spark from?

Would she actually force you to go?

You felt a presence behind you as you shoved your phone back into your pocket.

“You okay?” Bucky asked gently as you turned around, letting out a tired breath.

“I knew that conversation was coming. I just... never mind-”

“Hey.” The boy lightly nudged your shoulder with his fist. “No more hiding, remember? Talk to me.”

Shooting your gaze to the ground, you decided to open yourself up a little. “I... I don’t understand why they can’t just care about me. Not my grades, or my future, just me - their daughter.”

Bucky frowned at your words. He knew what your parents were like, and he hated that you spent most of your time alone in that massive house, without a family there to help bring you up. He’d watched you do laundry for yourself, clean the entire house from floor to ceiling, go grocery shopping for hours... just like you were living in your own house. You’d only just turned eighteen, and suddenly the weight of the world was on your shoulders - Bucky could only wish that he could somehow help your carry it.

“It’s their loss that they’re never around to see you, you know.” Bucky affirmed you, a serious expression on his face. “I count myself lucky that I get to see you everyday; they don’t know what they’re missin’, (Y/N). They should be proud of you, straight A’s or not.”

While you were still pretty bummed out from the phone call, Bucky’s words did make you feel better. It wasn’t often that he put on a serious face and turned off his charm, but when he did, it was rather pleasant.

“Thanks, Buck.” The corner of your mouth lifted slightly, but the boy could still tell your mood had been ruined.

“How about I give you a ride home? It’s gettin’ late.”

You scoffed. “I told you, I’m not getting on your damn bike. Thank you, but I’d rather walk for twenty minutes in the dark.”

Rolling his eyes, Bucky walked over to the coat rack next to the entrance of the shop, taking his leather jacket off its hook and pulling it on. “You’re real funny, sweets. I’m taking you home, on my bike. What’re you so afraid of?”

As he began to near his motorcycle that was parked outside the garage opening, you jogged to catch up with him, anxiety beginning to build up in your stomach. “Uh, we could crash and die. I think it’s pretty reasonable for me to be afraid of that.”

“Doll,” The boy chuckled, picking up a helmet from the handlebars of his bike and handing it to you. “That’s not gonna happen.”

Taking the helmet cautiously, you quirked a brow at him. “Isn’t this your helmet?” Bucky only shrugged in response, swinging his leg over the bike and patting the space behind him, motioning for you to hop on. “James, you have to wear this.”

“You’re my passenger; I think you have to wear it.” Bucky smirked, knowing fully well that he wasn’t going to take the helmet back and leave you without any protection.

With a sigh, you pulled the helmet over your head and adjusted it so that it was comfortable, allowing the boy to fasten the strap around your chin. After doing so, you climbed on the back of the bike, regretting giving into him so easily with every moment you were sat on the leather.

A gasp escaped your lips as the motorcycle roared, causing you to wrap your arms around Bucky’s waist instantly in fear of you toppling off the damn thing. Though he had his back facing you, you could only picture the smirk on his lips at the fact you were holding onto him for dear life.

Even if he was wearing a stupid smirk, on the inside, the boy was melting. Your arms circling his torso tightly, warmth radiating between bodies... it wasn’t good for him. Being so close to you only got his hopes up - his hopes that one day, being close to you wouldn’t be such a foreign feeling.

Shaking away the thoughts, Bucky sped off down the street, winding around bends and inbetween cars, making your heart drop to your stomach with the literal fear of dying. All you could hear were Bucky’s faint chuckles every time that you tightened your grip on him.

With your eyes screwed shut for the remaining half of the ride, you didn’t even realise that you’d pulled up outside of your house until the bike came to a halt.

After you climbed off the bike and handed Bucky back his helmet, you sighed quietly. You didn’t really want Bucky to leave. The conversation with your mom had really ruined your mood.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem.” Bucky replied leaning against the seat of his bike. “Do you... wanna talk about the conversation with your mom?”

“Maybe tomorrow.” You nodded. You knew he was only asking because he cared, but truthfully, talking about that conversation was the last thing you wanted in that moment. You’d tell Bucky about the whole Harvard thing once you’d talked to your mother in person, and boy, were you not looking forward to that.

“Would you...” You found yourself speaking before he could make a response. “Maybe wanna stay for a bit?”

“Sure.” Bucky nodded almost immediately, a playful smile creeping onto his lips. “I hope you have better options for dinner this time, though. I already had cereal for breakfast.”

You scoffed, walking towards your front door with the boy following behind. “You can never have too much cereal, Buck. But a frozen pizza has now been added to the menu, if that’s satisfactory for you.”

“If all you’ve got on this menu is cereal and frozen pizza, you’re not really runnin’ such a good place here, sweets.”

“I’m giving you a warm meal tonight, James. Don’t be ungrateful.”

Bucky only laughed, shutting the door behind him as he entered the familiar hallway. It always felt warm in your house, probably because the only time that he was ever there was when he was alone with you.

His eyes trailed over the photos neatly hung across the walls. Forced smiles, stiff shoulders, not a hair out of place - every pose was prim and proper, just like your parents. Nothing like you, however. Well, nothing like the you that Bucky saw. The boy had photos of you that your parents would only sneer at; pictures of you with animals at the petting zoo, selfies you took together at the junior prom... Bucky liked to document his memories, and he liked that you were a part of them.

“Ugh, can you not look at that?” He heard you groan from beside him, seeing as his eyes were on your seventh grade school photo.

“I happen to think it’s cute, (Y/N). Especially the bun in your hair that I’m getting a headache from just looking at-”

“Alright, asshole.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, understanding Bucky completely. “My mom insisted on my hair being that tight all through middle school. She said it made me look smart, when it actually just gave me the fear of having a receding hairline at thirteen. It wasn’t until high school that I finally stopped letting her control me.”

Bucky noticed your smile falter, knowing exactly what you were thinking. There was still a part of you that your mother had a hold of, even if you refused to admit it. While he wanted to reassure you that you were your own person, you’d already said you didn’t want to talk about your problems that night.

“You know, we haven’t had a movie night in a while.” He brightened his expression. “I’ll pick out a movie if you’ll do the honours of preparing the pizza?”

His smile widened when the corner of your mouth upturned.

“Okay, sure.” You nodded, beginning to make your way towards the kitchen. “Uh, and Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, you know... for staying.”

“I’ll always stay if you ask me to, sweets.”

Fuck. You forgot how his charm made you heart ache.

After a short silence, you and Bucky parted ways within your house, and eventually ended up in the couch in the living room. A small lamp dimly lit up the space, and the light from the TV shone onto the glass coffee table between it and that couch, where a neatly sliced pizza had been placed in front of you and Bucky. Key word: had. The pizza had practically been devoured ten minutes into the movie Bucky had chosen, which ended up being ‘Grease’.

Bucky wasn’t so much into musicals, but he liked the gist of the film. A summer fling that turned into something a little more between a good girl and a leather-clad boy in their senior year of high school. Hm, that last part sounded familiar.

Well, apart from the fact that Danny Zuko actually got the girl in the end. But who’s to say that Bucky wouldn’t?

Perhaps that would be the girl next to him. Correction, the girl whose body was suddenly curled up against his, her head gently resting on his shoulder, steady breaths exiting her soft, parted lips.

You. It was you that had dozed off on his shoulder. You that he admittedly wanted to call his in the end.

As his eyes flicked down to your unconscious form, comfortably leaning into his side, he couldn’t help but smile after letting out a sigh.

Because while you had simply fallen asleep, Bucky had utterly , inevitably and wholeheartedly fallen for you.

* * *

#bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes x fem!reader

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