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sierraraeck · 4 years

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The Jailbird and the Mouse

Spencer x Fem!OC (Aundreya)

Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya shows up to consult on a case, Spencer seems less than pleased to see her, but his actions tell a different story. Bonus chapter!

Category: Smut. Hate fuck. Apparently I’m incapable of writing a single thing without some angst, so we’ve got a sprinkle of that in there at the end, too.

Warnings: Cussing. Choking. Nicknames. Degradation. Cuffs are used. Unprotected penetration, female masturbating, oral (male receiving), fingering. Semi-public at the beginning.

Word Count: 8.5k

A/N: Okay so this is supposed to take place during How to Lose Friends when they are both in their fresh, post-prison forms and are beyond pissed at each other, but you don't have to have read that chapter or the series to understand this. Also, shoutout to @writing-in-april for looking this piece over and helping me make some edits!

Things to Know: All you really have to know is that Aundreya was a criminal who’d already been to and broken out of prison, joined the BAU, Spencer and her had a previous relationship, Aundreya got Spencer sent to prison, broke him out, then took the fall for something Spencer was being accused of that she didn’t do, getting herself sent to prison again.

I’d been called back to help the BAU solve a case. Fascinating how when it was convenient for them, I held some value. But, after that I was just easy to throw in a jail cell to be forgotten about.

I didn’t want to be there, but unfortunately I didn’t have a choice. So, I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely had made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, with long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head preparing for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them, probably due to stress. His eyes were blood-shot, slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness he now held in his eyes. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and certainly not for me. Plus, there was a red-hot rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror, a warped version of myself being reflected back to me. I’d seen the same fury and darkness in my eyes every morning that was in his now, and the irritation that radiated off him matched my own. Really, the only difference between Spencer and I, was he still had his gun and badge and I didn’t.

“I was invited to help consult,” I snapped through my somewhat restricted breath. “So you better get the fuck off me.”

He gave my throat one last tight squeeze before stepping back, his intense gaze never leaving me. I met his gaze with a wicked smile while brushing my fingers over where the ghost of his hand used to be. I wanted him to see that he didn’t affect me. Angry or not, he held no power in our dynamic anymore.

“Chambers, good to see you,” Derek mocked, giving me a side eye laced with suspicion.

“Can’t say I feel the same,” I deadpanned, then turning on Hotch. “So, why am I here?”

“We have reason to believe that a rogue gang member is kidnapping and killing ex-military if they refuse to join,” Hotch explained with seemingly no emotion, as if he was unaffected by my presence.

“Cool,” I deadpanned again before asking, “So why do you need me?”

“We wanted to know if you know anything or have heard anything-” Derek started.

“Heard anything?” I cut him off with a scoff, “You mean besides the constant clanging of metal bars when I’m not left in complete silence by myself? No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Can you find them?” Spencer asked as if it would be a difficult task for me.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle in response to his quip. Venom dripped from my words as I voiced my thoughts from only moments before stepping into the room. “Oh, I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in a cell.”

“What was I supposed to do!”

“What were you supposed to do?” I asked in disbelief, eyes wide. “What were you supposed to do?” I mumbled to myself again in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes. I put my hands on the back of the empty chair in front of me I assumed had held Spencer at one point, and leaned in toward him. He’d retreated behind the table since releasing me, and I quietly snarled towards him, “I don’t know, but sitting there on your tiny, plushy ass, wasn’t it. I’m leaving.”

Spencer was back over to me in a flash, slamming his hand on the door before I could even reach for the handle. Someone got better reflexes. I cocked an eyebrow at him.

“We have a suspect list that we want you to review.” Hotch caught me before I pushed Spencer out of my way.

“Fine. Make it quick.” I looked over the list Hotch gave me that contained about 30 men, none of which rang any bells. “This was a waste of time.”

“Hold on, guys,” Garcia trotted in, “I just found something.” She was in such a rush that she initially didn’t see me, bee-lining it straight for Hotch. Handing the iPad over to him, her eyes lifted to take in the rest of the room. That’s when she noticed me. Her eyes grew to the size of beach balls, and her perfectly done lips hung open. I tried not to feel too hurt, knowing that my presence would come as a shock to her, but it still stung seeing her at a loss for words, possibly even scared. She’d really been the only person who still had any hope left for me, and I was starting to wonder if that was true anymore.

My voice softened as I greeted, “Hey, Penelope.”

She struggled for words, a few ‘uhs’ and ‘ums’ headed my direction, ultimately being saved by Hotch. “Dave, you’re with me. Prentiss, Morgan, I want you to go to the ME, Garcia we’ll need you on call, and JJ, Lewis, I want you to go talk to this man.”

“What about me?” Spencer asked.

“You’re going to stay here and watch her,” Hotch commanded. I started laughing at Spencer’s visible discomfort. Spencer glared at me before opening his mouth to argue, but Hotch stopped him with a voice filled with authority, “I know you won’t be able to focus out there if you know she’s still here unattended. Let’s go.”

When everyone had left and the door shut behind them, I sang, “Well if it isn’t Doctor Reid drawing the short end of the stick, yet again.”

“Just sit down and shut up,” he tried to order with confidence as he took his own advice, sitting as far away from me as possible. Not once had he looked me in the eyes since I’d initially walked in and he had attacked me. Sure, his eyes were on me, but they never connected with mine.

“Is that a demand, doctor?” I challenged him.

“No, but it could be. I just don’t want to be the one responsible for letting you get away.” He shrugged in his chair, resting the ankle of his leg on the knee of the other.

“So you’re just gonna trust me to do what you ask?” I questioned. Throughout the entire time I’d known Spencer, he’d never gotten super riled up over something, but this was a whole different Spencer, one that I didn’t recognize or know . He was more on edge, confident, and clearly willing to wrap his hand around my throat with no hesitation. A type of Spencer I was more than happy to get to know. And let’s face it, I’d been in prison for 15 months. There wasn’t a ton of action going on in there that I wanted to get involved with. I just wanted to see how far I could push him before he snapped. “You don’t trust me, and you know you can’t. I put you in prison, just because I could,” I shrugged, contradicting what I’d insinuated earlier for my own entertainment, “and you think that I won’t just walk away from you when given the chance?”

“You’ve had the chance. For the past three minutes and forty-six seconds you could have left and you didn’t. What’s keeping you here?” he smugly fired back. Oh yeah, he’s definitely going to be fun to mess with.

“What’s keeping you here?” I copied, “Why’d Hotch bench you again? Because you can’t focus when I’m around?”

“No one can focus with you around!” he huffed hotly.

“Not well, but they certainly can do better than what you’re doing right now,” I patronized, “What is it about me that makes you all so nervous, huh? I’m just another criminal who happens to be a former co-worker. I thought you were used to working with those day in and day out.”

“Criminals or co-workers?”

“Either.”

“None of them are like you,” he bit.

“Oh I know,” I ran my tongue over my lips, “So I’ll ask again, what is it about me that makes me so different?”

He looked up at me. In contrast to the first time he locked eyes with me, his expression was stone cold. “You were a part of this team, and you betrayed us. You betrayed me. I don’t know how I could’ve been so stupid to believe you were actually helping us! I just want to know why you picked me. You were going to take one of us down, why’d you choose me?” I could see the gears spinning in his head, and was about to answer when he frustratedly added, “Was it because you thought I’m the weakest?”

That’s it. That’s what’s always made him tick. And he used the present tense. We were still an entire table length apart, so I started slowly sauntering toward him. I prodded, “Is that what you think? You believe you’re the weakest on the team? Or do you just think that’s what I thought?”

“We all have our roles,” he responded, but not nearly as confident as he had been before.

“That’s not an answer,” I pushed.

“You still haven’t answered me, either,” he growled, and I decided to let this one go. We didn’t need to fully delve into his insecurities, no matter how much I wanted to.

“It was similar to that. You were the most afraid of me, I could smell it in the air.” I closed my eyes and pretended to revel in the stench of fear. “But, I could’ve gotten any one of them if I wanted.”

Spencer scoffed at that, “I think you overestimate your abilities.”

“I don’t,” I quickly fired back, “I could’ve gotten any of them, and to be honest, I was going to go after Derek, or maybe Emily, but then you spoke up from the corner of the room and I knew it had to be you.”

“Why?”

“Why this, Aundreya, and why that, Aundreya? Is that the only question you can ask?”

“Is it the only question you can’t answer?”

I was about halfway to him now, and decided to give him a little false hope. “I picked you, not because of your intellect, or how the rest of the team coddles you, or how relationship starved you are. I picked you because I could see something in your eyes that was different, something dark. And once I heard your full back story, I realized just how similar the two of us are.”

“We are nothing alike,” he insisted.

“Really? Because had you made one different choice or one thing went just a little bit wrong, you could have ended up just like me, with no family and no one to give a shit about you or what you do, except for the cops who just wanted you locked up and controlled.” I was dangerously close to him now, his head tilted to look at me, but he didn’t cower away. He actually seemed to welcome it. Which reminded me of something, “After knowing all of that, my past and everything I was, you still agreed to let me on your team.”

“I was the last person to say yes to you joining,” he informed me. This was news to me, but I couldn’t even be sure if he was telling me the truth. “I didn’t think it was a good idea for you to be working with us, but I was outnumbered and outranked.”

“No, you caved to their wishes,” I twisted his words to suit my needs, “Like you caved to mine.” I slowly reached down to place a hand on his chest. He eyed it all the way until I made contact with him, and it was like flipping a switch. He grabbed my wrist and held it close as he pushed out of his chair, the wheels spinning it wildly back into the monitor. He reached for my other wrist, which I let him grab, and held me against the wall, arms pinned next to my head. I did everything I could to not smirk. And he’s still caving.

“I didn’t want you here. I resisted the idea of you being around us,” he spat.

“Like you’re resisting the idea of being around me right now?” I arched an eyebrow, scanning him from head to toe, and I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on a few spots. He opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again, locking his jaw. I could see his genius mind at work, trying to come up with some way out of the little mouse trap I’d set up for him. I watched his eyes trail down to my lips and neck, soaking it all in. When his eyes met mine again, I tried to reach for him, but he forcefully slammed my hands back, pinning me to the wall again. Though, I wanted him to touch me this time. He was taking too long to make a move for my liking, so I decided if I couldn’t use my arms, I might as well use my legs.

All of his weight was already leaning toward me, so it wasn’t difficult to wrap my right leg around his waist and bring him all the way to me. The moment that they were within inches of my face, I attacked his lips. I was almost disappointed by the fact that he didn’t seem surprised at all, as if he knew how impatient I was and knew that I would force the first move. But, I wasn’t disappointed for long.

Spencer’s whole body was pressed against mine as he quickly swiped his tongue across my bottom lip, looking for entrance. I granted it, but I wasn’t going to give him the complete dominance that he wanted over the kiss. Instead, our tongues slid over each other’s searching for more than the other was willing to give. It was hot and messy, and he released his grip on my wrists, moving them to apply the same amount of force to my jaw. With my hands free, I made quick work of the buttons on his dress shirt, ripping it open. I was expecting skin and sighed when I found yet another shirt. This man and his layers.

Spencer took advantage of me sighing, giving him more access to my mouth, which I wanted to be annoyed about, but couldn’t care to be. I decided to make better use of my hands, running them down the sides of his body as he wrapped his behind my back. He pulled away from me so abruptly when I tried to massage him through his slacks, he basically dropped me on the floor. It was like being left out in a cold winter storm, just barely out of arm's reach of warmth.

Spencer shook his head, eyes on the floor, as if that would clear his mind of what clouded it, which was me. But I wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “There. You got what you wanted.”

I gaped at him before retorting, “We both know it wasn’t just me who got what I wanted. I’m sure you had a hard time pulling away.”

He glared at me as he rolled the chair back toward the desk and took a seat, “Not really. I have important work to do.”

I stood there staring at him trying to compose himself. His face was red and he tugged at his pants before crossing his leg over the other. I pressed my lips together, but still failed to contain the small laugh that escaped through my nose.

“Sure,” I mocked, “Especially since everyone else on the team is already doing that work for you.” He didn’t look up from whatever papers were on the table, trying in vain to ignore me, though I wasn’t ready to have his attention off me yet.

I shut the folder that he was in the middle of reading, not like he was actually reading it considering how long it was taking him to flip the page, and sat right on top of it. He was about to reach for it again, but retracted his hand at lightning speed when my legs got in the way. I flashed another mockingly sweet smile his way, but he looked out toward the window, right next to the wall I’d just come from. I swung my legs back and forth off the side of the table just a bit, careful not to completely kick Spencer in the shin, though I couldn’t help but let my toes accidentally tap him a few times. As with all of the other times I’d touched him, he moved out of the way, uncrossing his legs with a perfect foot-sized gap in between his knees. I rested my foot in that small gap on the chair, rolling his body closer to me. Then, for no other reason than wanting to feel him squirm underneath me, I plopped down on his lap, my legs straddling his. I pretty much had him locked in his seat.

“What are you doing?” he questioned, a look of complete indifference gracing his face, but I knew it was just a front.

“Just making sure you’re doing your job,” I replied, winking at him.

“And… how do you think this is helping me do my job?”

“I’m making sure you’re paying attention to me,” I whispered in his ear seductively, lacing my fingers together on the back of his neck, “Plus, I’m doing what you asked me to. How did you put it? Sit down and shut-”

Using his thumb and forefinger, he pinched my cheeks and brought my lips to his forcefully. The kiss was just as hungry as the last, teeth clashing and tongues furiously fighting. He moved his long fingers onto my hips with a bruising grip, which I had absentmindedly started grinding against his. He pulled away from me for a moment, and his harsh tone reminded me that this was nothing like the last time we’d been together, when we’d both been a bit more innocent. “You never did have any manners at work.”

I smirked, “I know. Imagine my manners at home.”

A low, almost inaudible groan came from Spencer’s throat at my suggestion, but he tried to cover it up by moving my hair out of the way and latching his lips onto the side of my neck. I gasped at the contact of his teeth pulling at my soft flesh, paired with the feeling of his growing bulge pressed against my core. His fingers gripped my hips harder and moved them faster, drawing a small whimper from my lips. I felt him smile as he trailed kisses down my neck to my collar bone, leaving a single bite mark there. I tried so hard to contain my high-pitched moan when he moved one of his hands from my waist to pinch one of my nipples through my shirt.

But I was supposed to be the clear-headed one, so I forced myself to not get too wrapped up in the feeling. If I wanted to get to my end goal, I was going to have to leave him wanting more, which unfortunately in turn meant leaving myself in the same condition.

My hips had gotten faster along with Spencer’s hands, but when I felt him start to buck his hips up against me, I knew that he was getting close and it had to end. Immediately, I stopped my movements and untangled myself from him, but not before dragging a finger up the column of his throat, sneering, “Too bad. I could’ve helped you, had you done anything to help me.”

I left that open for interpretation, either as a jab to his masculinity or to what started my rage in the first place: being left in prison. He didn’t ask for clarification either, clearly too bothered by being left on edge. He did, however, follow up with, “Help you? Why would I want to do that? You’re a terrible person.”

I grinned as if receiving a medal of honor, “That I am, Doctor.”

I moved the lay down on the couch while Spencer attempted to refocus on his work. I made a show of sighing a couple times and rolling around ‘to find a comfortable position’ on the couch, just to piss him off. I could tell it was working based on his clenched fists turning white, and the way his leg was jumping. He was resting his head in his hand, which almost perfectly shielded my face from his.

He still wasn’t turning the page, so I offered, “Can you flip the page by yourself, or do you need some help?”

He wasn’t given the opportunity to respond, because Hotch, followed by most of the team, came barreling through the door.

“Colby Ulton, 43 years old, has a long record and wasn’t home,” JJ announced, following Hotch. It’d been a while since I had to deal with their inhuman pace when it came to talking about unsubs and profiles, so most of the stuff they said next flew over my head.

I was way behind in the conversation, but none of that mattered when Hotch turned to me, “Colby Ulton. I want you on him.” He'd barely gotten the command out before I was reaching for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid. I rolled my eyes. He moved to step in front of the door, blocking my passage out again, leaning casually with his back against it, arms crossed. Our faces were barely centimeters apart.

“Why not?” I asked in a mock-curious voice.

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free. Plus, we’re not even sure he’s the right man,” Spencer pointed out. I was going to point out how I had just made that same argument about me leaving, and he refuted it himself only to bring it back up now, but I didn’t get the chance.

“He’s the best we’ve got right now,” Derek countered. I could tell he sort of just wanted me out of the room, but Spencer’s motives appeared very different.

He never took his eyes off of mine as he recited, “We think it’s a rogue gang member who’s either left or been kicked out within the past year. Ulton’s been in prison, which could mean he’s gone rogue, or it could mean he’s joined a new gang, one that, as you probably know, wouldn’t allow this type of acting out. Either way, he hasn’t demonstrated gang affiliated behavior in almost three years. Not to mention he had his tattoo removed and is out of our age range. I don’t think putting her on, most likely, the wrong man’s trail is worth the risk of letting her walk free.”

The room was silent as we all waited for someone else to make the first move. I decided to be that person. “So what do you suggest they do with me, hm?” I questioned, walking my two fingers up his chest with each word. Then I leaned in and made it very clear, “Because I am not going back to prison.”

I bit his earlobe on the way back, and I saw the way his pupils dilated just slightly at the feeling, “I’ll watch her for the night.”

“What?” Derek and I said at the same time, but our facial expressions were very different.

“Yes,” he stated, more confidently now, “She has nothing to do right now, but we might need her later in the investigation, so sending her all the way back to prison doesn’t make sense.”

“And you'll make sure she doesn’t escape?” Derek questioned.

“She hasn’t so far, has she?” Spencer challenged. When he got unnerved looks from the rest of the team, he assured, shooting a small smirk my way, “Trust me, she won’t.” How cute. He thinks he can wrap his skinny little fingers around my neck and pull a moan from me once, and all the sudden he’s in control. He switched our position, pinning me up against the door, clasping the handcuffs back around my wrists in front of me. I was starting to think he had a thing for pushing people into walls. It was his turn to whisper in my ear, “And you won't want to.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

When we arrived back at his apartment, I took a moment to survey the room. It looked almost exactly as it had the last time I’d been there. Books piled up everywhere, papers strewn all over the desk, a little dark and dusty, maybe a bit more worn, but nothing too out of the ordinary. The only difference was that it no longer suited him as well anymore. He used to be this shy, studious, loner-type that didn’t really like people, and he had a certain innocence about him. There was nothing innocent about him anymore. He didn’t seem shy either, much more confident; still studious and a loner though. However, I bet he liked having at least one person over at all times, or not being home at all. It meant that he didn’t have to be alone with his own mind, and after being in solitude myself, and knowing that he’d been in there too, that feeling of complete silence, utter aloneness, was something we’d never want to experience again. We were honestly perfect for each other in that way.

The other thing I’d noticed, based on what I'd seen of him within the last few hours and what I knew prison could do to a person, I guessed he went off of instinct rather than intelligence more than he ever had in his life.

Spencer had to take the time to shrug off his satchel and kick off his shoes, neither of which I even had. All I had was myself and what I was wearing, which wasn’t much. At least I wasn’t in an orange jumpsuit anymore.

“Wow, you’ve really renovated the place,” I snickered. Spencer didn’t say anything, just rolled his eyes and brushed past me. I forced my wrists outward a couple times, making a clanking sound with the cuffs, asking, “You gonna take these off?”

He faced me with a smirk and shook his head slightly, “Don’t think so.” Pulling out a chair at the puny kitchen table, he sat down, and I felt like we were much in the same position we’d been in at the office. I was in his home turf, if I could even call it that, but I wasn’t just going to let him be in charge.

I decided to go straight for the jugular, “Why’d you bring me home, Spence?”

“This isn’t home, not for you,” he snapped.

I scoffed, “Doesn’t look like it is for you, either, but that doesn’t change the question.”

“I told you. I didn’t want to risk you running away.”

“You didn’t want to lose me?” I inquired. He could hear the way I was rephrasing it to change the narrative, not like I was wrong, but he successfully dodged it.

“I didn’t want to lose an asset over the wrong man, tipping the right one off, and potentially risking him going underground. I’m just trying to catch an unsub,” he shrugged.

“You’ve got an answer for everything, don’t you?” I shook my head in amusement.

“You don’t?” he cocked an eyebrow.

“Of course I do,” I quickly answered.

“Then answer this,” Spencer squared his shoulders, now completely facing me, “Why didn’t you run the moment you got the chance?”

“I had three FBI personnel in the car with me, then a team of BAU agents surrounding me, and then was left alone in the same room as an agent who can shoot 100 on his test. I am many things, but I am not stupid nor am I suicidal.”

“How’d you know I shot 100?” Spencer followed up.

I smiled, “I know things.”

“How about all the chances you got when you were in prison? You’ve broken out plenty of times before, why not do it again?” He was leaning forward, and he seemed genuinely curious.

It was a good question, one that I actually hadn’t pre-thought the answer to. Frankly, I wasn’t expecting to even make it this far. “I was biding my time.”

“For..?”

“Leverage.” It was a simple word, but one that seemed to make a great impact. Spencer leaned back in his chair and contemplated my answer. It wasn’t a complete lie either, I just didn’t want to give away too many details.

Spencer finally whispered, “Against?”

I flashed him a wicked smile. “You.” His face contorted into something I couldn’t fully recognize, eyes narrowing. “You, Spencer. I’ve been waiting for you to make an error, a mistake. That was the one flaw in my plan, that while I picked the easiest to emotionally manipulate, I picked the hardest to mentally manipulate. And you don’t make very many mental mistakes, do you Spencer?” I asked, approaching him. I’m really hoping you’d like to cash one in right now, though. I could practically see the internal argument being fought inside Spencer’s head; one side telling him to give in, it wasn’t that bad, the other telling him to resist, that somehow, this would corrupt him further. I needed the former to win. “You wouldn’t let yourself get caught up in the moment, would you? You wouldn’t crack, take what you want, what you need, what you deserve against your better judgement. Because you’re all brain, Spencer. All brain, and no heart.”

That’s what did it.

Spencer literally swept me off my feet, tossing me onto the couch like a rag doll. His hand returned to my throat as if it belonged there, and he pushed open my legs with his knees. My hands may have been cuffed, but they could still be useful. I moved them to start unbuttoning his shirt when he swatted them away. He spat, “I’m not heartless. Not like you.”

“No,” I agreed, “You’re worse. At least I can admit to what I am. You just hide behind a badge and gun.”

Spencer shoved two fingers in my mouth, probably trying to shut me up. I smirked, running my tongue up and down the long digits, making sure to give him a preview of what was to come if he’d let it. His other hand trailed down the side of my body until it reached the waistband of the pants I was wearing. Forcefully, he yanked them down, taking my panties with them. I knew I was already pooling, but of course he had to rub it in. Snarky, he mocked, “For someone who talks a big game, you’re already looking pretty weak.”

I silently cursed my body for finding him arousing, and was about to have to come up with a clever comment when I saw Spencer pause. He was charging straight into this, and then he just stopped. I tilted my head, “Worried you don’t have it in you?”

Spencer met my eyes, and cooly stated, “I’m not going to let you be my mistake.”

Dammit. When I felt him start to pull away, I knew I had to say something to get him to stay. I needed to turn this into an advantage in his eyes, not just mine. “Why? So you can let this rage build up inside of you, eat away at your every thought, until you snap? What then? You lash out during a case, which causes someone to die, either because of your incapabilities or at your hand? And what for? Because you’re still mad at me? I’m right here in front of you, Spencer! You’re never going to get a chance like this again, so just do something!” By the end, it was a plea, and one that was brutally answered.

Spencer pushed two of his fingers inside me, already moving at a quick pace. I let out a small yelp at the sensation which clearly pleased Spencer. I attempted to refocus on unbuttoning his shirt, which became increasingly difficult because of how he was curling his fingers to hit that spot just right. I barely finished, pushing his shirt away from his shoulders when he leaned away from me, taking both of his fingers with him. I was about to complain until I saw him dropping his shirt to the ground and unbuckling his belt, pushing his own pants and underwear out of the way in a similar fashion as he’d done to mine. He pumped his fist over his shaft a couple of times before lining himself up between my wide open legs. He teased my clit with the tip of his cock, and I could feel the precum beading there. I bit my lip as I looked up at him.

Spencer’s eyes were blown when he quietly demanded, “Say it.” He wants me to beg. I was okay with him thinking he was in charge for now, so I played into it by shaking my head. He slammed my cuffed wrists against the arm of the couch just above my head, bringing his face so close I could feel his lips brush mine as he repeated, “Say it.”

It was more forceful the second time, and something about his hot breath on my face and the feeling of his hips trying, and failing, to stay still against mine pulled a whimper all too genuine from my lips, “Punish me.”

At my words, he slammed his cock in my entrance, setting a merciless pace. With no time to adjust to his length, the heat burning between my legs got fiercer. The sounds of his hips hitting mine filled the room, both of us trying to control our moans, not wanting the other to know how much we were really enjoying it. My back arched off the couch, sending my fingers over the arm, brushing over thin objects on the small table there. A pen and paper clip.

I pressed my lips together to contain the grin that just about took over my face. Looking down at Spencer, who was way too busy biting marks into my skin, I could tell he hadn’t noticed the detrimental error I’d just realized he’d made. I made quick work of unclasping the cuffs from around my wrists, but left them on loosely just for show.

The coil in my stomach was getting tighter and tighter, and while I usually would have tried to control myself, I let the moans tear through my lungs. This caught Spencer’s attention, perring up at me with a twinkle in his eyes, one that told me he thought he had me. He mouthed into my neck, “This too much for you to handle, Jailbird?”

I scoffed at his pet name. Alright Doctor Reid, you’ve had your fun. Now let me show you how to really be in charge. “Not in the slightest, Mouse,” I quipped. Before he could think, I wrapped my legs around his waist, and put my hands on the back of his head. I flipped us off the side of the couch, landing on top of Spencer. With the wind knocked out of him, I quickly grabbed his wrist, clasping one of the cuffs around it, looping the chain behind the couch leg, then synching the other around his free wrist. I placed his head on the ground and leaned back, tracing patterns on his chest.

It took him a moment to realize what had just happened, but I saw the moment the light went off. “You filthy bitch.”

I chuckled, “It seems as though that genius memory of yours forgot that I’m a criminally sound escape artist.”

He was fuming, but contained himself long enough to ask, “What changed?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “Since last time? You had no problem letting me take control then.”

I simply stated with disgust, “I was soft then.”

“Who’s to say you aren’t still now?” Spencer challenged.

I laced my fingers with his as I pinned them to the ground, my turn to be the one looking down on him, faces only centimeters apart. We locked eyes as I explained, “You can see it too, I know you can. I wake up and see it in the mirror every day, and I see it in you too now. It’s in your eyes. That darkness. That feeling of destruction, of being broken, of being a monster. It’s there. I can see it like it’s my own.”

I expected him to snap at me. To argue with a clever quip. But he didn’t. Spencer leaned up as far as he could and kissed me. Not in the angry, predatory-like way that we had earlier, but really kissed me. I was so taken aback by the gesture that I practically jumped off him after a few seconds. I hated myself for letting it happen for even that long.

I stormed away from him, hissing, “Don’t try to get my sympathy now that you’re the one chained like a dirty animal. I’m not gonna fall for it.”

I saw something quick flash across his face before it hardened again. I could feel his eyes following my every move as I walked away, so I decided to make a show of it. I swished my hips back and forth, and even bent all the way over to pick up our clothes for no reason, just so he could have a perfect view between my legs. I heard the rattle of the cuffs against the couch and smirked to myself.

Tossing the clothes as far away as possible, I reached under my shirt to unclasp my bra, slipping it out one of the arm holes. I spun it around my index finger a couple of times before letting it fly off in the direction of the rest of our clothes. Toying with the hem of my shirt, I rhythmically moved it around my body so that he could only see some exposed skin at a time. I slowly pulled it higher and higher until I removed the garment completely. Standing completely bare in front of him, looking down on his naked body, I’d never felt more in control.

Spencer was drilling holes into me as I got down on my knees, crawling toward him. Again, his hands shot forward only to be stopped by the metal. I tutted, “Now, now, Mouse. That’s not how this works.”

I stroked a single finger up his length, and when it brushed over the tip, he squeezed his eyes shut. I wetted my lips as I wrapped a single hand around his cock, starting at an agonizingly slow pace, a stark contrast to the one he’d set earlier. I had barely started moving at a faster pace when Spencer started to buck his hips up into my hand. I slammed his hips back down with my other arm, giving him a cold look. His hips stilled and I knew he was getting desperate.

I flattened my palm against his lower belly, making sure he’d stay in place as I steadily picked up the pace. Spencer threw his head back when I swiped my tongue over his tip, and huffed when I retracted my hands, breaking contact all together.

I hummed, “Actually, this isn’t that interesting.” I scooted back on the floor, holding eye contact with his piercing irises as I spread my legs wide open for him to see. Neither one of us has had our release yet, so I might as well take mine and leave him high and dry.

I brushed my fingertips down my body, cupping my breasts on the way, until I reached my clit. I started to rub circles over the bundle of nerves, not realizing how close I already was. I let out exaggerated moans as I continued my ministrations, steadily pushing myself toward the edge.

“Stop.” It was barely a whisper, and I wasn’t sure if I even heard it, so I ignored it. Right as another moan ripped through my lungs, I heard Spencer say, louder and more demanding this time, “Stop.”

I was too close to stop. I barely had the mental capacity to smirk down at him before I felt my release crash over me like a tidal wave. For dramatic effect, I whined out Spencer’s name as my walls clenched around nothing, helping myself through my orgasm. Slowly coming down from my high, my head lulled back, release seeping into his rug.

Barely allowing myself to catch my breath, I leaned forward onto my knees, and looked at Spencer’s face, which was red with anger or desperation I couldn’t tell, but brought my lips down on his dick regardless. He grunted at the sensation, and I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I swirled my tongue around him until I couldn’t anymore, opting to just trace a protruding vein instead. I started to hollow out my cheeks when he bucked up into me, forcing me to take all of him in at once. He groaned when I started gagging around his length, and when I coughed after pulling off him, he had the audacity to laugh.

“Having trouble there, Jailbird?” Spencer smugly asked. I looked down at his length laying against his stomach and saw that it was a deep red, and had to have been painfully hard at that point. With that in mind, along with my recent release, I crawled over him.

I looked at him as I hovered my pussy just above his cock. “I wouldn’t be worried about me. I’d be worried about how you’re gonna take care of yourself with your hands cuffed if I decided I’m done with you.”

That threat wiped the smug look right off his face. I was already wet again, and allowed him to only barely feel what was waiting for him if he behaved, lowering myself down so his length was just brushing my lips.

His face contorted and then he said the word of my victory, “Please.”

Taking hold of his cock in one hand, I lined myself up, and slowly sunk down. He filled me up completely, a bit thicker than I remembered, and I sat comfortably in his lap. This was clearly what Spencer wanted, but there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. I just sat there looking at him, and based on the crazed look on his face, he was expecting me to start moving immediately.

We stared each other down for a moment before his whole body jerked forward, hands yanking on the cuffs. It was my turn to laugh at his pathetic struggles, but I still didn’t have quite what I wanted yet. Raising my hips up, I quickly slammed them down, pulling the loudest groan I’d heard from Spencer. When I didn’t move again, he started squirming underneath me, and I asked, “What is it you want me to do, Mouse?”

Then he broke, his strangled pleas music to my ears, “God, fuck me, please, just fuck me!”

I grinned as I captured his lips in a vicious kiss, pulling his bottom lip between my teeth. Steadying myself with my palm on his chest, I lifted my hips up, only to let them fall back into his lap. I started slower than either of us wanted, letting myself adjust to his full size before bouncing freely on his dick. The sounds of our heavy moans filled the air, sweat collecting on our bodies.

I was honestly surprised at how long Spencer had lasted when he let out one final shriek before coming undone below me. He’d given up, completely relaxed on the floor as I started chasing my second orgasm. Spencer peered up at me through hooded eyes, and soon enough starting letting out cries, and I knew I was pushing him. I didn’t want to completely overwhelm him but I was so close…

I wouldn’t get there, not yet anyway, because Spencer did something I was not expecting. The couch hit the floor with a loud thud, giving Spencer the freedom to move his arms. He wrapped the chain of the cuffs around the back of my neck and flipped me over in one swift motion, almost identical to how I’d just done it to him.

I was completely caught off guard, and let a surprised squeak leave my lips. I was almost impressed. Almost.

As if he could see straight into my mind, Spencer remarked, “I’m a quick study.” His entire body weight was over me, and there was very little wiggle room for an escape.

I followed Spencer’s eyes as he scanned around the room, glanced at his wrists, then sighed when he spotted his pants. Must’ve been where he put the key.

I raised my pitch and snidely sang like a schoolgirl, “Whatcha gonna do Mouse? You gonna fuck me like the inmate you are, or are you gonna free yourself, hm?”

Pressing his hands down on either side of my perfectly laid out ones above my head, the chain between the cuffs digging into my forearms, he chided, “I’m sure I can handle you just fine with them on. I’m not quite done with you yet, Jailbird.”

My walls fluttered around his cock at the gravelly sound of his voice and the threat that accompanied it. It’s as if he’s chained to me. I shuddered happily at the thought.

“Is that what this is about?” Spencer hissed, clearly catching my pleased look and the way my pussy pulled him in a little more at his harsh words, “You just enjoy seeing me as some twisted killer?”

“I enjoy seeing you for who you truly are.”

I wasn’t able to form another coherent thought after that one, the pace Spencer was pounding into me like one I’d never felt. He fucked his cum from only seconds ago back into me, the wet sound of our mixing fluids filling the room. I could barely focus on where his hands had moved to, teasing my nipples, because the fire between my legs was jumping higher and higher. As it finally burned through me in the sweetest way possible, I reached to grab onto anything, the first thing my fingers found being Spencer’s hair. He growled when I tugged, but his pace never let up.

As I came down from my high, Spencer didn’t stop. The feelings were becoming too strong, too overpowering, pleasure bordering on pain. I tried to pull my hips away from his, but there was nothing I could do. To stop my squirming, he sat back slightly and pressed his large palms down on my hip bones. Moving also changed the angle he was slamming into me, now bottoming out with each thrust. I needed some reprieve.

“Spencer,” I whined, but there was a nothingness in his eyes.

His hands snaked up to my throat, applying massive pressure to my windpipe. “Is this what you wanted?” Spencer yelled, “Is this what you think I truly am?”

I was having trouble getting the air into my lungs, let alone respond. I wanted to force him to face his reality of being an ex-con, knowing how shitty it was to be on the inside and just letting me sit in there. A consequence of my own actions, but considering I was doing it to save him, I was looking for a little bit more effort on the getting out process.

But he’d left me in there. He didn’t care. He didn’t care despite the fact that he knew what I was going through, that I could tell he was still dealing with his own PTSD and not well, and that everything had changed for him. People looked at him and treated him differently. He was a different person. Corrupt. And he’d only been in there for not even three months.

I’d been in there for five times as long.

I wanted him to realize just how much damage him and his useless team were doing to me by not helping me get out. I wanted him to realize how fucked up that was, and how terrible of a person that made him. I wanted him to realize he was just as big of a monster as I was.

I accomplished that. But I underestimated how much darkness he’d really been holding back.

My head started to feel light, and I could tell I was on the brink of my third release. The sound of skin slapping skin was sinful and I couldn’t focus on anything other than the feeling of his tip hitting my a-spot, the way my legs were shaking around his body, the way the muscles in his back felt against my nails as I clawed them down it. My release came quicker than Spencer’s, who wasn’t too far behind me. His thrusts became shallower, as he spilled into me for the second time. It was as if all the energy had been drained out of me in an instant, along with my anger and hatred. Spencer rolled off of me, and I saw his figure weakly collapse to the ground.

It was an eerie calm, the sound of absolute nothingness, the only disturbance being our labored breathing.

I didn’t know how long it’d been when Spencer’s voice, the softest I’d heard it since the day’s start, whispered, “Are you okay?”

I glanced at him with a confused look. He let out a small sigh at my non response, collecting himself before walking over to his long forgotten pants for the cuffs key. After freeing his wrists, he walked back over to me and helped me up, ushering me to the bathroom.

I could tell he was examining me, but it wasn’t until I stood in front of the mirror that I realized why. “Look at those bruises around your neck, Jailbird. They suit you.”

The bruises were deep and already turning a nice purple. I scanned the rest of me finding more bruises on my hips, thighs, shoulders, wrists, and not to mention the bite mark on my collar. I scanned Spencer next, his only bruises coming from his wrists and the red marks I left on his back. “I wasn’t expecting that from you.”

He met my eyes in the mirror, “What were you expecting?”

I shook my head, “I don’t know.” I truly didn’t. I went into it knowing I wanted to force him to see everything he had, everything he was, but I guess I didn’t really think about what that would force me to see. My exhaustion started to give way to a heap of emotions, and a single, involuntary tear escaped my eye. Spencer brushed his fingers over my neck, simultaneously pulling my hair behind my shoulder.

He kissed the tender, bruised skin, and I remembered the times before, the times when it felt like we’d really been in love. I felt his breath on me as he mumbled, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

I turned on my heels to face him, “You didn’t.”

I didn’t know what compelled him to confess what I never thought he would, but he sounded deeply ashamed when admitting, “I wanted to.”

“What stopped you?” I was genuinely curious. We’d hurt each other in the most extreme ways before today, getting the other sent to a cage in hell, betraying each other.

“I’m broken, but I’m not beyond repair, and hurting you would make me someone that I don’t want to be.”

I gave him a tired smile, and all I could muster was, “Pretty convincing.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Don’t be, you didn’t. You couldn’t,” I assured him. It was the truth.

“I should’ve,” he bit, looking down at his hands, which were so delicately holding my waist I couldn’t be sure he was even touching me.

“Why?” I questioned, the seriousness evident in my voice, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He shook his head, and a stray curl or two tickled my forehead. “I could’ve.”

“I trusted you not to.” I clasped my hands together and rested them on his back.

Spencer’s shaky voice matched his glistening eyes as they locked with mine, “I just wasn’t sure. All I know is that I scare myself sometimes.”

I pressed my forehead against his own, “Well, then I guess we’re two people who have nothing to fear other than ourselves.”

Read the full series

Taging some people:

@justanothetfangirl @kris-stuff @blameitonthenight21 @wooya1224 @unded-bride @swiftingday @dezzxmx @andiebeaword @psychicdonuts @aperrywilliams @goldentournesol @homoose

#spencer reid smut #aundreya chambers #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid fanfiction #spencer x oc #spencer reid angst #dr spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #cm #bau #hotch #morgan #garcia

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pansyslut · 4 years

Note

Hello! I have a request for draco x reader oneshot. Can you please make a really angsty one based on your prompt list number 26 and 50? A happy ending would be amazing! Thank you very much!

when i needed you most

draco x reader

a/n : yayyy another request !! here you gooo i hope you like it i really enjoyed writing this one. the prompts went together really well

prompt list

prompt #26 - “you are my everything”

prompt #50 - “everyone else was there, but it was you who i needed the most. and you weren’t here.”

summary : y/n struggles after having a miscarriage. instead of draco being by her side for comfort, no one knows where he is. angst & fluffy ending.

it had been less than twenty four hours since you had returned home. they kept you in the hospital for a couple days after your miscarriage. you spent most of the time crying silent tears, having worried friends in and out of your room, nurses constantly checking on you.

you were glad to be home. when you were at the hospital many of you and dracos friends had come to visit and check up on you. it had grown suffocating. you knew it was only coming from a place of love but you couldn’t help but feel like you needed to be alone.

when you found out you were being released that night you had muttered “thank merlin” and draco had nodded his head. you both needed the hell out of there. away from the people and the environment. you both craved the comfort of your own home.

when you got home, draco had made you soup while you were put on bed rest. you weren’t complaining though because everytime you moved it felt like a elephant was sitting on your uterus.

you and draco hadn’t spoken much, both of you processing and coping your own ways. part of you craved the feeling of your husbands arms but he stayed stiffly on his side of the bed. deciding not to disturb him, you eventually fell asleep as well.

waking up was the worst part so far. the pain was unbearable as the medicine they have given you now completely worn off. you lay there, stiff as you reach your arm across the bed to only feel cold sheets.

“draco?” you call out loud enough for him to hear you throughout the house.

after a few seconds you realize you are alone. you find yourself in the room alone with your mind running wild. how would you be able to do anything let alone sit up? you decide to call your friend, luna.

as soon as you had gotten on the phone with her she was happy to help. saying she would bring healing remedies and help you with whatever you needed.

eventually, you will yourself up to go to the bathroom. looking in the mirror realizing what a mess you look. hearing a soft knock, luna let’s herself into your room.

“y/n, thank merlin. i knocked on your door and no one answered- i hope it’s alright i let myself in. i brought you things that might help.” she says holding up a basket. “i’ve read up on this quite a lot, i’m glad you called me. meet me downstairs when you’re ready and if you need help give me a shout.” she says and heads her way downstairs.

luna stays for a couple hours, tending to your every need. she made you biscuits and tea and gave you some medicine that helped tremendously. it still hurt but now you were able to move on your own.

harry and hermione had also made a brief appearance. they kept you company and made you food which was short lived due to their busy schedules.

it was now half past six and draco still isn’t here. you had called him three times and texted him but haven’t gotten a single reply. you think he would care. you think he would care that his wife just lost his child. but instead he’s ignoring me and out doing god knows what.

making your way upstairs, you get into one of dracos shirts and lay in bed. your mind runs wild to the places he could be. to the excuse he would come up with when he gets home.

without realizing, you had begun crying, tears streaming down your face. you only noticed when they hit the pillow in front of you. glancing at the mirror on the wall beside you, you stare at your red puffy eyes and swollen cheeks.

you know the doctor has said time and time again that it wasnt your fault but you couldn’t help but feel otherwise. he said it was very much possible i wouldn’t be able to carry a baby ever again. the one thing women are out on earth to do, my body is incapable of doing.

as you lay clutching dracos pillow, you hear the front door unlock. you hear the footsteps making way through the house. but continue to lay there with your face shoved in the pillow.

i cant let him see me like this. if he’s so unaffected by this then i need to be too.

you hear a soft knock on the door as draco announces himself. “baby?” he steps closer to the bed and sits next to you. “i’m sorry i’ve been gone all day.”

here it is. the excuse you’ve been pondering about all day. you know it’s not work because he already had the week off. what could possibly be more important than this?

he sets a hand on your shoulder but you shove it off. lifting your face from the pillow, he’s finally able to get a decent look at you for the first time. he’s sees the dry tear stains on your face and sits there wide eyed.

“you don’t get to apologize. luna was here earlier and brought me medicine, hermione was here earlier and made me lunch- even bloody harry was here. everyone else was there, but it was you who i needed the most. and you weren’t here.”

he sat there once again not saying a word. “do you really have nothing to say? you left me. your wife. the woman who would have been the mother of your child. do you even care? i sat here crying for hours without the most important person by my side. you are the only person i needed and where were you?” you said getting closer to his face. “huh, what’s your excuse?” you nudged him roughly as your anger rises.

draco stars silently as tears build up in his eyes. you stare back at him in shock. not once had you ever seen draco cry- or even close to it.

“i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so bloody sorry. i-” he stops to collect himself and lifts up from the bed starting to pace, “i thought you would want to be alone. i thought- i thought that’s what you wanted.” he said once more. “i thought that’s what you wanted.”

he’s now facing away from you, staring outside the window as rain drops slowly fall. you crawl to the other side of the bed so you are sitting behind him.

he continues softly, “i went to the store. i got you more ingredients for soup- i noticed yesterday how hard it was for you to eat. i figured that would help. and- and i got you flowers. and i visited some small shop in town with hundreds or medicines. they gave me everything we would need.”

you grad his hand and he turns to face you. grabbing your face, he whispers “you are my everything. please, i am begging you to forgive me.” he says and gets on his knees in front of you and lays his head in your hands. “i’m so unbelievably sorry.”

what an asshole, you thought to yourself. i sat here thinking he was being anything but pure. of course he was being his sweet self. how stupid.

you lay your head on top of his, peppering delicate kisses at the crown of his head. “you have nothing to apologize for, dray. i should have known. i should have trusted you. it’s just that- that you weren’t answering your phone and i- i’m sorry too.”

he lifts up from your hands and sits next to you. you sit there, holding each other, hearing nothing but his soft sniffles and the rain hitting the window.

suddenly he collects you in his arms and starts making his way out the room. laughing you struggle to get words out, “draco what the hell are you doing?”

he gets downstairs and sets you on the kitchen counter. you see your favorite flowers in the vase surrounded by your favorite snacks.

he scurries around, trying to prepare the both of you dinner as you watch him closely. he sets a glass of wine next to you and drops and kiss on your forehead as he continues to busy himself with the ingredients.

although neither of you weren’t even close to healed, you knew that that you would be okay. as long as you had each other everything was going to be just fine.

#draco fluff #draco imagine #draco malfoy #draco x reader #draco x y/n #draco x you #harry potter #draco angst

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everafterkeiji · 4 years

Text

Song: Hiccup by Valley

Summary: After encountering a road block in your relationship, what path will you take to wind up your broken heart with Iwaizumi?

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Genre/Warning: angst, cursing

Word count: 6k

A/N: i promise myself i was going to write some bokuto fluff but this song keeps bringing me back to iwa😣 also pls listen to this song<3

2 YEARS AGO

"Tooru."

You call out to him, knees to the floor clutching tightly on your shirt, droplets to the wooden surface. Oikawa harshly closes his eyes, unable to let his eyes rest on your weakened state. He takes a deep breath when he hears your mournful sob. He hears how you took in rough gasps of air so he drops the box from his hands as he rushes to you, his knee scraping from sliding to the floor as he takes you in his chest as you sobbed even more. Oikawa allowing his own tears to fall on your clothes.

He consistently caresses your hair, as your sniffles and cries of pain covered the eary atmosphere of your apartment.

"Tooru." You call out again, he closes his eyes as he leans his head on yours. He dreaded every second that passed knowing he shouldn't be the one to comfort you, but he knew your savior wasn't going to rescue you this time.

"Do you think he'll miss me?"

"I know he will, darling." He assures you, and you wipe your eyes gasping for air once again before speaking again. He lets his hand slide down to your back, patting it every now and then.

"But there's someone better huh?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and you take this silence as an answer you'd never forget. Your lips tug upwards, grinning at how it stung when it came from Oikawa. To Tooru, no one could replace you. He couldn't envision someone to love his brother the way you did and no amount of pain can top how much you cherished each other but he couldn't answer because he was unsure of the motives of the past ace.

"Thank you for staying." You whisper and he pulled you closer as he sighs, glancing at the apartment that appeared in their late night video calls. The same room where he saw the brightest smile that was painted on Iwaizumi, the eyes that carried passion whenever you'd pop up. Visiting the apartment for the first time, he didn't expect how- lifeless it felt.

"Always."

PRESENT

You stretched as you rolled over to the side, used to the ghost of him. You shouldn't be used to it, he should be there to occupy it everyday but every morning you were just greeted by the chilliness he brought you.

The sun sneakily shined upon your eyes as you immediately turn away, expecting the memories to strike your heart like it does whenever the sun flaunted its rays.

"You're mesmerizing." He whispers, his pointer finger inched its way down to your cheek, smiling to himself. You hummed in response, shuffling in the sheets as his heart pounders at the sight of your shoulder peeking through the thin material, with the sunlight decorating your skin with its beauty.

You opened your eyes only to be surprised by how bright the sun was making you close them immediately, giggling to yourself. Who knew his heart could melt even more? Once you've slowly opened your eyes again, you gaze at your Hajime placing a hand on his cheek. With his hand on your chin, he slowly lifts it so your lips meet with his as you smile, running your hand from his cheek to his hair, while closing your eyes at the

He pulls away as butterflies swarmed inside him, pushing back the string of hair that landed in your eyes.

"I love you."

"Forever?"

"And ever after."

You curse at the usual memory that would pass you every morning. It annoyed you how there wasn't a day where you weren't starting the morning this pissed off. Realistically speaking, you adored how your memories would bring life to your body once in a while but when love appears, pain tags along- making it hard to enjoy the only things that could take away the emptiness.

Without him, you could never bring yourself to close the curtains. A habit you've devastatingly brought upon yourself.

Whenever the sun rose and it's light surrounded your room, it was the closest embrace you could ever have from him.

You let your fingers graze over the longing sensation on your lips. Incapable of forgetting how every kiss from his plush lips made you high. Intoxicated with his devotion to you. Each having it's own unique way of bringing you stories from the way it synced with yours.

Do you ever think about coming back to kiss my mouth? You ask yourself, sadly letting go of your lips before stepping into the bathroom.

I miss the taste of you and it's always been you. Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he feels the tingle of coldness from his lips. Like you, he adored the way his mornings were blessings but his room looked like a grave for his emotions.

Curtains closed, not allowing to let the sun peak through since the light in his world wasn't there to bring back the life in his soulless apartment.

He steps out of bed entering his bathroom, brushing his teeth as he rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"S-shush! Baby- baby stop talking!" He says chuckling before placing the toothbrush in your mouth. You two were superbly drunk and it seems like even if Iwaizumi was drunk to the gods, he was still the responsible one in the relationship. You were already about to pass out but his loud laughter kept you awake.

"But Hajime- let me sleep already, you're so noisy bub." You pout but he chuckles again. You turn behind you try and sit on top of the counter but you slid off when you jumped. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a grin as he places his hand on your waist before effortlessly lifting you and placing you on the bathroom sink.

You continue to brush your teeth as he watches how your eyes would droop every second. You spit out the toothpaste before taking in some water and spitting it out as well. You wiped your mouth before bringing your arms outward. "Am I okay now babe? Hajime- honey I wanna sleep." You beg as he rolls his eyes taking you in his arms, like a bride.

"And what about you mister? Did you brush your teeth?" You teased, taking in the aroma of alcohol he had. He bit his lips trying not to laugh but he shakes his head, answering your question. You let out a gasp of betrayal as you hopped out of his arms grabbing the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it, but you hear his cackle making you laugh as well, addicted to how it made you join him in an instant.

"Princess, at least put it on the actual brush. Not the other end you dumbie." He states making you look down on your failure of an attempt. You let out an "Oh." and this brought tears to both of your eyes from laughing endlessly.

He gazes at his reflection through the mirror as he takes a deep breath. It felt like if he'd utter a word, his voice would already crack at the resurfaced moment. He scolds himself for having minimal change in a span of two years. He told himself that he shouldn't wallow in the grief but he endured it for days.

There wasn't a clear way for him to move on, especially when you drained him from all functions of his mind. The only thing that interests him to be happy was that he held on to the probability of meeting you again. Even if the chances were slim to none, he'd take anything that there is left just to see you again.

Though it seems like, he'd have to suffer longer just for it to happen.

Maybe I'd understand the things that you'd do. You whisper as you take another gulp of alcohol. It was Saturday, your supposed late night sessions with Iwaizumi but instead you were solo for today, and maybe for the rest of the years. You bitterly chuckle to yourself as you didn't bother to answer Oikawas call. Your phone kept going off, receiving dozens of messages and missed calls from the setter. He deeply hated Saturdays, or at least your version of it.

Whether you chose to bottle down every beer you had, or scream and get smothered in mascara stains from crying, or even worse, both. Sometimes you'd even mistaken Oikawa for Iwaizumi, and Oikawa allows it knowing it's a way for you to cope. He hated how far away he was but he strictly told you that if you were ever to pursue yourself to go to the club, he'd drop everything and book a ticket to you immediate, of course this was enough for you to listen especially when you'd feel guilty for wasting his time.

Oikawa knew better than to ask for Iwaizumis help. He remained a bridge for the two of you, knowing he'd encounter to different sides. Iwaizumi had him pick up his belongings in your apartment, denying to step foot in your room. In which brought Oikawa to tears at sight of his best friends past lover in such a disaster of a state. So granting Iwaizumis wish, he stayed.

"Why can't you do it? It's your apartment." Oikawa argued making Iwaizumi grunt in pain as he secretly wipes away the tears in his eyes. He sighs before facing the setter.

"She hates me, Oikawa." He says, staring directly at the boy. Oikawa scoffs but stares at the ground, hands to his side formed in a fist.

Is it that bad? He questions.

"Iwa- what happened?" He asks nervously but Iwaizumi only closes his eyes as he tries to get rid of the screams from the previous night.

"I'll tell you soon. When you see her, maybe you'll understand why I can't do this, why I can't face her. Just please do me one favor." The tone in his voice slowly lessens with the last sentence, making Oikawas heart ache for the two of you. Looking at Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa could see the way he was holding back, but from what? There was a certain change in his usual stare- he looked lost.

Oikawa sits on the couch as he lets his hand gesture for Iwaizumi to speak. He couldn't say anything else but he hoped that Iwaizumi would take his silence as an answer already. Oikawa would do anything for Iwa, and if he was your other half, and Oikawa will do the same to you.

"Save her."

"From what, Iwa?"

"From what I've done."

Oikawa was impatiently waiting for your response but it seems you've decided to push him aside again. Although he was home, the distance from him to you was troublesome so he insisted to call you instead.

He assumed that last year you've gotten better since you spent you Saturday sleeping instead of drinking, but it progressively got worse.

"I mean, one drink wouldn't hurt right?"

He was dumbfounded when one drink turned into hundreds. He knew it was difficult to continue especially when you and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives everytime. Whether you were extremely drunk, he knew that you two acted the complete same when you were sober. There wasn't a difference, meaning that's just how love worked between you two.

"Tooru- honey!" You shout as Iwaizumi pouts. It was your 4th anniversary and Oikawa decided to call to greet the lovely couple another successful year of your relationship.

"It's shittykawa to you, babe." Iwaizumi teases making Oikawa rolls his eyes. Through the camera, he sees you above Iwaizumi with arms wrapped around his neck without your chin resting on the boys head as he smiles, content to see that 4 years and love didn't change, not even a bit.

"Disgusting lovebirds, happy anniversary to you both!" Oikawa cheers as you giggle, blowing a kiss to him for greeting you two.

"Thank you Tooru-" your words were cut off by a gasp of realization as you shake Iwaizumi. Hajime takes in your excitement as he shakes his head at your actions.

"Hajime! There's no way you're not making Tooru as your best man- anyway! Tooru! This my official invitation for you to be his best man at our wedding!" Oikawa laughs as he raises his eyebrow to Iwaizumi who had a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I will be overly disappointed if I wasn't chosen. If Iwa-chan declines, I'll be your best man instead Y/N, or if you take my offer, I'll be the groom." He winks to you as you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. Iwaizumi flips off Oikawa and the setter only returns this by poking his tongue out to his best friend.

"So is that right, Iwa-chan? Will you finally bend the knee for the lovely lady?" With Oikawas question, you turn to Iwaizumi as if you were nervous. You bit your lip looking at your boyfriend before he pecks your lips catching you off guard as he looks at you with a smirk.

"I'd be a fool not to." He says making you squeal, as you immediately cover your face in your hands, embarassed by how red you got. Oikawa rolls his eyes, envious at the love you shared. Although, he is joyous that you've made Iwaizumi the happiest man he can be, even if you two weren't married yet, to Oikawa it looks like your relationship will only lead to the altar.

There wasn't a single doubt to that.

"Y/N! I thought you've forgotten how to pick up the phone again." He scolds you but his anger washes away when he sees you with red eyes and sniffling uncontrollably.

"Hajime." She calls out, as Oikawa sighs into his pillow realizing it's another night of him acting as Iwaizumi. He's already heard all the things you wanted to say to the missing boy and he accepted the fact that you'll never have the heart to say it to Iwaizumi himself.

"Why do I miss you, now that you're out of my life?" You cried. Oikawa only rests his chin on the palm of his hand as you continued to pour your sadness upon him. You swing the bottle in your hands before downing another wave of liquor.

"I wanna know what you're doing tonight." You whisper as you take your phone, clicking on Iwaizumis contact but before you could, Oikawa spoke, knowing your next intentions.

"No, not again Y/N." He says but you shake your head your finger threatening to press it already.

"Y/N listen to me, Iwa would have contacted you right now but this isn't the time!" He argued but you scoffed, angry tears brimming in your eyes.

"No! Then when will that time come then! I've been waiting for so fucking long already! It's never gonna happen 'cause he's forgotten me- Fuck!" You shouted, taking Oikawa by surprise as you collapse to the floor once again, Oikawa coming back to the sight of you he wanted to forget.

"Y/N- babe I'm sorry-"

"Enough, Oikawa. If you could've been honest that Hajime's found another, then-then maybe I-" your voice cracks as you stressfully runs your fingers through your hair, gripping it tight in your hands as you let out another doleful sob, breaking Toorus heart.

"I don't know what do anymore." You whispered, your heart shattering in to even more finer pieces. You couldn't even put into words how you've been in torment for years.

It finally dawned on you that you weren't headed to the altar, you were headed in a different path.

Without him.

"Y/N- listen- Iwaizumi-" you ended the call leaving Oikawa stunned as he drops the phone in his hands in frustration and in regret. He decided to visit Iwaizumi, knowing it'd be hard to ever communicate with you again, especially that you've been struck by a wrong thought.

And no one else could handle you the way Hajime would.

"Iwa-chan."

"Oikawa? What is it?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry."

Iwaizumi held his breath as Oikawa explained what happened. He couldn't wrap his head around the unintentional pain Oikawa has given you.

"Iwa, I'm so sorry." Tooru says, making Iwaizumi close his eyes visioning your features crushing at the idea of him having somebody by his side.

Hajimes eyes would never betray you. The only reflection that stayed in his eyes, was the future that was thrown away.

"Oikawa, hey it's okay, I understand." Iwaizumi says with a soft tone to assure Oikawa. Tooru would never intentionally hurt you, he was there to save you. Even if Iwaizumi didn't ask him to take care of you, Oikawa would do everything to bring a smile on your lips. As much love you have to Hajime, its the same amount you have to Oikawa.

"Leaving isn't bad because you're gonna come back with something even better and that's the best version of yourself."

It's your words that he counted on. He believed that he wasn't being selfish, or prideful. You made him believe that finding himself was enough to get him all the medals, the passion, and everything he wanted. So he'd want nothing more than to give thanks to you.

"Iwa."

Oikawa breaks the silence. Iwaizumi looks at him while biting down on his fingers, his heart beating too loudly at the thought of you.

"Why didn't you call her- not even giving her a proper goodbye." Tooru asks with masked anger in his tone. How could he help Hajime when he's blocking him from the truth?

"Iwaizumi. Answer me. For once." Oikawa begs, but once he's met with the silence, he's never been more eager to give in to anger.

"I just- I can't let it happen again, Oikawa. Not to her, not to us."

"Baby, what movie do you want to watch on Saturday? I've seen so many good ones lately." Iwaizumi turns to you with an exhausted expression. You were arranging the condiments in the cabinet, waiting for his response.

"Can't we- reschedule? I-I have something to go to-"

"You can't blow me off for the third time this week, Iwa." You spat, sick of the excuses. Has it really been three times? Iwaizumi questions as he leans on the couch, letting out a sigh. To which is a response you didn't expect to receive.

"I've been busy." He lied, he may not feel it, but there wasn't a single hesitation when he spoke. You memorize his schedules, his after meetings, the excused he's mentioned didn't even bother to make sense. It hurt how he was able to come up so easily, not even thinking about you'd be able to piece them all together.

"Or are you just tired, Iwaizumi?"

You asked rudely. He looks at you before rolling his eyes, covering your heart in bitterness at his pride.

"So what if I am?"

He talked back, hitting you with a bigger wave of emotions. You slammed the door of the cabinet, marching to him each step mixed with rage and pain.

"You're tired? Imagine what I've been feeling, Hajime!" You shout, volume picking up on your tone as this makes Iwaizumi stand up from the couch, not backing down at the power of your voice.

"Clingy? Needy? Pathetic? Tell me, does that sound any different to you?" He said it with so much disgust, strong enough to make you doubt everything you've fought for.

"So you don't give a fuck? Is that what you're so proud of, Iwaizumi? That you're so fucking insensitive?" He felt a tug on his heart when you called him that. It's been so long since he's heard you say it so- normal. As odd as it is, he couldn't hear his name the same again, especially when it came from you.

"Exactly! God I- Y/N. This is why-"

"WHAT IWAIZUMI!"

"This why I'm so fucking tired of you!" He shouted, not only did it create a barrier in your apartment, it brought up your past barrier that he broke down but now he's the cause of it to return.

"You're just- can you even make it on your own without me? It's like if I leave you'd- lose your shit! We need space!" He was fuming with confused anger as you feel your throat give out. You were shaking, your heart was too fast and unsteady, you weren't the same.

"But space is what you've been giving me! Coming home so late? Standing me up? You don't even fucking realize how many dates we missed!" He scoffs before running his fingers through his raven hair. Taking a step towards you, making you stand your ground as you tilt your head to meet with his empty eyes.

This isn't the man who could love you forever and ever after.

"So what! I've got so many things to do apart from dealing with your shit!" You stare back at him, weakened at how your heart couldn't handle it anymore.

You looked down, feeling the sting in your hands when your nails digged into the skin of your palm. He sits down on the couch, drained from the war full of shouting and the damage his heart was in.

Surprisingly, you sat beside him but there was such an intense distance between you.

He turns to you but chills ran up his spine when he sees how you look like you've agreed to everything he's said, making his eyes widen at the foreign feeling.

This is what he was scared of. Failing to find interest in the same routine, to find the energy to continue like he used to. Being worn out by how repetitive things were even when the love you both had was nowhere near boring.

In fact, it was exhilarating. You were both curious to try things together, that's what led you to even owning an apartment together, planning a future, even planning your marriage that was now a blur.

He trembled. Regret, anxiousness, exhaustion. He didn't expect himself to feel this way, especially to you, who he loved completely but felt a certain drift in his heart. He looks away from you as his eyes trail on the picture of you two. He couldn't hold it in his hands to look at how happy he looked, because he isn't the same anymore.

He's lost his way.

"D-did I..lack something?" She asks quietly. He gulps at her question. It was so heavy to him. How you asked him, questioning yourself in this relationship. With anxious hands, he wanted to reach out for you but his efforts were surpassed when he felt a wall between you and him.

"Am I worth.. to keep?"

Please, baby. He begs in his mind for you to stop. He couldn't register how he couldn't make himself speak. He was holding back too much, terrified that he was going to break you more and more with every word he'd toss to you.

"Then this is pointless isn't it?"

You both look at each other, both met with different expressions in your eyes. Iwaizumi could see how tired you were, how he knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same way before, since he gave up first. While you can see how there wasn't a single lie in his eyes, the downfall was upon you.

No matter the space you give him, there can never be a spark to bring him back.

He bit his lip, facing the truth. Even he knew there isn't any other way.

"I know what you're gonna say, Hajime."

"Princess.. I'm sorry"

"Just go." It was impossible for him to follow your orders when all he wishes is to stay but then again, he's run out of reasons to.

"You gave up, Iwa!" Oikawa shouts, standing up to the boy. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wonder on the floor because he said nothing but the truth.

"There isn't anything I can-"

He's heard enough. You've asked Oikawa many heartbreaking questions. They were all unanswerable, and it pained him he couldn't give you at least one. He was in pain as much as you were. He hated how stupid Iwaizumi was for leaving you and choosing to cower away. He hated how you blamed yourself and slashing your heart because of Iwaizumi.

The tension has set fire to Oikawa and with years of loyalty between the two, Oikawa throws a heavy punch to Iwaizumi, disgusted of his actions.

Iwaizumi, completely at shocked at Oikawas punch, steps back a few times before his blood dropped on his fingers. Oikawa walks straight to Iwaizumi capturing his collar and pulling the boy upwards, nothing but rage consuming the setter.

"Did you love her then? Don't tell me this bullshit that you can't go back to her. Do you even wanna know what she asks me?" Iwaizumi removes Oikawas hands from his shirt, crumpling it in the process. Oikawa lets out a sarcastic laugh as he looks at Hajime.

"Ah, so you know how much shit you put her through? Then maybe you are an asshole but god- Iwa she loves you so much. If that isn't a good enough reason for you to talk to her, then I'll find somebody else for her." Oikawa threatens as Iwaizumi lets out a sob, nothing but regret that he hurt two of the most important people on his life.

"But what if it happens again?"

Iwaizumi asks, it was the only thing that held him back for returning into your arms. He isn't stable enough to return when the fear lingers in his head. What if he falls out of love? What if he gets tired again? Then you'll never want his presence again. He couldn't master up the courage because he too was scared of it.

He will not go through dozens of years just to be apart from you. He's already lost his mind to see you and Oikawa face the tragedy that he left you with. He felt nauseated with himself. How can he promise you forever when it was out of his grasp?

"Why don't you find out?"

It was a simple sentence that left Oikawas lips yet it brought Hajime to tears. It would've been that easy. If he didn't stay with his demons, then maybe you were here to offset his heart. After 2 years, isn't it too late to realize that he's never really ran out of love? It strengthened, but he was so afraid of battling with you like you did, hating how he was the man who shattered your overall being.

"Thank you, Oikawa."

He whispers as Oikawa takes a seat beside him, smiling that he brought the boy to realize the amount of time he's wasted by being surrounded by doubt. Oikawa pats the boys shoulder, sighing in relief that Iwaizumi was back.

"Always."

You swore to avoid your phone the entire day. As much as you wanted to apologize to Oikawa for the outburst, you just wanted a day of silence since your thoughts never give you the chance. Not only did you promise to avoid technology, you decided to avoid people as well, promising to yourself you'd rather stay inside in order to avoid the envy you had for other couples.

So here you are, tucked in your jacket, wrapped in your blanket waking up from a 4 hour nap. You yawned before squinting when you open your phone. It's 8pm and your stomach was nowhere near happy. Slowly standing up, you make your way to the kitchen opening the fridge seeing absolutely no hope to make a meal. Sighing lazily, you decided it'd be best to just buy some food.

After getting ready, you step out of your apartment as you drive to the place where you usually order. You admired how the moon lit your way. Opening your windows you smile when the cold whiff of air instantly surrounded your car. You loved the way your hair flew in the wind while you listened to the song playing.

Once you've finished your bought dinner, you decided to take a turn in your path. Now that it was late at night, you couldn't resist to visit a place you've been missing.

You take in a deep breath as you leaned on the metal bar, loving the way the view still took your breath away. You were face to face with the nightlights and the busy town below you. Not only was it stunning but it was a place to recall some of your favorite moments with him now that you were out of your comfortless of an apartment.

"Sorry for being late, Oikawa was an ass." Iwaizumi excuses himself as he stood beside you leaning on the rod, smiling once he takes in the lights. He turns to you before removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, a sweet gesture that had you blushing every time.

You couldn't refuse knowing he would've scolded you. Instead, you stood closer to him before leaning your head on his arm. With his hand, he interlaced his fingers with yours, as your heart flutters. He takes in your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as you did the same with his hand making him twirl you in satisfaction. You giggle before landing on his chest as he leans down and places his warm hands to your cheeks as he leans in to take your lips with his.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating his kiss. He's given you hundreds of kisses before, how is this any different than the rest?

He pulls away, as your foreheads touch as you both painted a smile on your lips, feeling a slight tickle to it with how flustered you both were.

"I love you so much." He whispers, the first time he's ever let the three words slip from his mouth. Your hands make their way his hair, grabbing it lightly before nodding happily.

"I love you more, my Hajime."

Who knew that just by saying those three words, it was enough for you to believe in an ever after with him? Maybe you were wrong to fall for it even though he gave you a fragment of your so called forever.

You glanced beside you to see a vacant spot and you let out a disappointed sigh. You take in the sight of your fingers, missing the way it perfectly fit in his and how he held it with so much care, giving you an idea that he'd never let you go. Unfortunately he broke this bond but you still longed for his skin to be at contact with yours again.

You sat down placing your hand on the bench as you close your eyes leaning your back on it. You felt a shift of weight beside you, someone finally accompanying you in this lonely night but you've caught on the familiar scent of the stranger and you let the name slid off your tongue.

"Hajime."

He turns to you in shock that you knew it was him but you open your eyes, turning your head to be faced with the man you've been longing to see in two years. He looked the same, the same face who clouded your dreams. He was certainly your Hajime, the pretty boy you've adored since you were in high school.

Happy anniversary. You silently greet each other. How bittersweet, isn't it? What was meant to be your 6th year, turned into 2 years of avoiding each other.

And as you took in Iwaizumis appearance, he did the same with you. Loving the way your features clicked in his memory instantly. Was it even possible for you to be even more beautiful? To Iwaizumi, it was. He absolutely missed you, but why was his heart nervous?

What do I do? He asks himself. Small talk isn't what you deserved. God- you deserve so much more. Endless hours of talking, his embrace, his love, that's what you missed. He was willing to love you with everything he's got, now knowing he'll never run out of it because he isn't scared anymore.

"This isn't a dream is it?" You asked as you turn back to the sky counting the stars that was above you. He was glad you broke the silence, and he appreciated how there wasn't the same tension before. It felt so- serene and unique. Something he wishes it'd be a good sign for the both of you.

"I can't believe it either." He exclaims making you smile. You couldn't ask him how he's doing, not wanting to drag on a conversation you've waited years for to happen, you couldn't let it be bland and meaningless.

"We were something weren't we?" You asked with a soft smile. Iwaizumi chuckles beside you, as he sits closer to you. The cold air swirling around you two as well as the car noised filling in the comforting silence.

"God, I miss what that's like." Iwaizumi answers as you look at him. You looked down on the floor with tears appearing again, the same as Iwaizumi. You were both craving to hold each other but it didn't sit right to just rush into each other knowing there's so much to unpack.

Maybe it was a bit unexpected that you'd face him this way. Echoing through your ears was the conversation between you and Tooru about how the time never came. Now, you weren't even close to being prepared. You both imagined a proper conversation wherein you two would agree to meet up and talk things out. Yet subconsciously, you came to the same place at the same time not even knowing you'd meet. You lacked strength to bundle the words that you've always wanted to say to him and he felt the same way.

The last time you sat next to each other, that was when you parted. Now, back in the same position, it felt overwhelming. Seeing each other for the first time, both had you shocked and careful of your words. You wanted to scream how much you loved him, and he wanted to hold you in his arms to wash away the bleeding of your heart.

You loved how the universe made you two meet. It was quite painful that it had to be the place where you've shared so many memories with him. You didn't know if this was a blessing in disguise but you couldn't complain when the love of your life was here, beside you.

When he saw you, he felt like the sun shined above him like it did every morning. Where he had an angel to wake up next to, when he couldn't spot a single imperfection in your skin when the sun danced in your beauty.

And you've finally remembered the way his touch would bring you the assurance without words. His unexpected kisses, his sweet embrace, his smile that makes your heart run a marathon.

You're finally here. You both think, your hearts synced in how you've waited for this moment.

With your hand on the bench, he places his hand on top of yours, feeling like it was too fragile to hold but you didn't pull away. He takes in your features in the moonlight as his heart picks up the pace at the feeling that washes over him.

There isn't a barrier anymore.

Having the chance to hold your hand like this, he'll never take this for granted again. His everything, back in his touch, god how lucky he was. Remembering Oikawas words, one thing was clear to Iwaizumi, and that was the fact that he couldn't afford to have another hiccup in your relationship.

"We really fucked up this time." Iwaizumi comments making the both of you chuckle as he intertwines your hands with his, smiles on either your faces now that you've finally found the path to each other.

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umbreonix · 3 years

Text

Fanfic Writer Interview! Thanks for tagging me Emmy <3 (@chromochaotic)

I swear the most stressful part of these is tagging other people XD None of you have to do this but, @dualityoftoad, @jadeile-writes, @knightfire

How many works do you have on AO3? 7! (+22 on ff.net but I will spend the rest of this exercise/life pretending those don’t exist)

What’s your total AO3 word count? 194,093… huh. Wish I put that effort towards my Master’s thesis in retrospect.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

2 fandoms: Zelda BOTW and Hazbin Hotel 😊 Again ff.net does not exist so let’s mention of those

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Given I only have seven so this is almost just a list of my fics... Finding Link (Revalink), Beating about the bush (Revalink), Ace In The Hole (Radiohusk), Waiting for You (Sidlink), Curtain Up (Radiohusk)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Always! But sometimes I’m really slow about it. (There was a short period where if I took too long I just wouldn’t because it felt like I missed that window but I’ve overcome that hang up now) They make me happy and I want people to know that I appreciate them. And interaction is just fun.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Angst? What’s that? I could never. Angst only exists in short spurts in my fics to make the comfort sweeter and the happy endings happier.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really… (again forcefully shoves ff.net under the rug)

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

I guess? Not on ao3 though and the only comment immediately coming to mind was more of stern advice from someone who didn’t actually read the fic but thought I needed to do a better job on the summary, which, fair enough.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Haha no… I kinda wanna but I also feel like I could never XD If I ever do it’s gonna be in an unpublished google doc that I’ll share if someone specifically asks… (Only cause I’ve written some funny nsfw bab scenarios in my head)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Haha I hope not?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. Or… actually I guess technically yes? A lot of people (moreso on the radiohusk side) say in comments that they read my fics entirely over internet translators… wonder how well that actually works… XD

What’s your all time favorite ship?

(Revalink, Revalink, Revalink) It just connects with me somehow. I have so many au and fic ideas all the time (most which will never see the light of day because too many thoughts, too little time) I really like radiohusk but I also have to strain a lot to write them for some reason.

Whats a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

*burns the rug that ff.net and all it’s unfinished fics have been swept under* “Hmm? What? Nahhhh I intend to finish all my fics”

What are your writing strengths?

Hmm…

I think I write in a way that’s pretty easy to digest. Like I’m not really a details person… which can sometimes be nice? I think everything I write kind of feels like a sitcom. There’s not exactly a complex plot and you don’t need to use a lot of mental power reading because everything is kind of ‘punchy’ and ‘quick to the point’.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything I said above but in a negative context instead LOL.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I always just write in English italics when someone is speaking a different language but I’m not sure that’s the best way. I like it when fics do it in the format of “Das ist mir Wurst” (This is sausage to me).

But see…

That would require me to WRITE those sentences in diff languages and no thank you. Do you know how many languages Husk speaks in Hazbin??? (7)

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

….. Ouran Highschool host club MorixOC. NEXT QUESTION PLS.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Beating About The Bush without really any doubt at all. (I’m starting to feel pretty good about Ace In the Hole too even though I struggle so much to write it)

OH! And “A Moment’s Repose”! That Revalink oneshot might actually be an example of my best writing. I wrote it for an event a month early and because I am incapable of not tweaking things for as long as they aren’t published, I LITERALLY tweaked and added to it for a month. It’s the only thing I’ve ever written where you can’t see me rushing to the end XD

#tag game

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ardentmuse · 5 years

Note

Ahhhhh! Congratulations on 2k! I'm so happy for you! You definitely deserve it! Thank you for doing this fun celebration! Could I request 11 with Ned Stark?

Promises Swept and Promises Kept

Game of Thrones - Eddard (Ned) Stark x fem!Reader

11. Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.

Wordcount: 3.4k (welp, I give up. I am clearly incapable of 1k word limit. Sorry, I’m the worst)

Warnings: angst, ugh just all the angst, and fluff at the end, talk of war and death, but nothing outside canon, takes place at the start of Robert’s Rebellion

Masterlist

A/N: There are only like 5 Ned Stark imagines out there. WHY??? Ned is such a beautiful soul. I feel so so blessed to have gotten to tackle this and I clearly apologize for the emotional rollercoaster below. Also, sorry for two GoT pieces in a row. I’m doing these in the order they came in.

You knocked lightly on the door to the solar even though you had been summoned. The door was ajar and you could just make out the form of Ned slumped over the desk, a crumpled version of himself, so small and withered compared to the massive force that was the man you were used to seeing so noble upon this seat, Lord Rickard Stark. But Lord Stark was dead now. And so was the young Lord Brandon. Your betrothed never seemed such a boy as he appeared now holding the mantle of Winterfell and the North upon his shoulders.

You knocked a second time, this one with more force, and with it Ned straightened his back and beckoned your entry.

“My lady, sit,” he said in a tone that mimicked his father’s voice so. The sweet nothings you were used to hearing from his mouth, soft late at night as you held hands upon the battlements, Ned begging you not to return home with your father’s men but to stay by his side until the end of his days, were gone. You were not meeting with your Ned but with Eddard instead.

You did as your lord commanded, settling your skirts as you leaned into the hard leather. Everything about this sight was imposing from the stout wood of the desk to the tension of Ned’s jaw to the stacks of parcels and parchments which created such a visible divide between you and the man you loved. You straightened your back, trying to appear the strong partner you knew he needed now in this time of loss and of war, but you felt yourself falter when he didn’t even look up to meet your gaze.

Ned lifted a hand to dismiss the maester you hadn’t even realized was waiting in the corner. He nodded and closed the door behind him, his chains making a gentle chime down the hall until they could be heard no more. But still, Ned did not look at you.

After several moments of awkward silence, Ned stood and walked over to your side. You smiled, thinking maybe he had wanted to wait for you to be properly alone before he offered your fingers a gentle kiss but he didn’t touch you. Instead, he grabbed the letter at the top of the stack, the seal already broken, and thrust it forward into your hands.

You looked at him in question but he had walked now to look out the window into the battlements below. The Lord’s chambers looked out into the courtyard, towards the stables and the western gate. The view of the hillsides stretched on your miles and if somehow the eye could continue on the horizon, you’d be able to see your own home. You had wondered often when you looked out on the horizon from your chambers in the years since your marriage had been promised if Ned was looking out at you too. And if the world were not curved, you might be able to look at each other. Only now, when Ned was indeed looking the way you had hoped all these years, it was to look at anything other than you.

You sighed and opened the parchment, prepared for news of another death or maybe a call to arms. Your heart clenched at the thought that it might be news regarding Lyanna, whom you loved as a sister, but when you took in the fish of the seal, you found yourself thoroughly confused.

As you read, you couldn’t even take in all the words. It was a jumble of phrases, each of which stabbed at your heart.

“Lord Stark… Catelyn the title of Lady of Winterfell… military support… promised in writing and word… Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell… shall see through and marry my daughter…”

The words were becoming even harder to read as you realized tears were rolling down your cheeks. Lord Hoster Tully wished for Ned to marry his daughter to fulfill the promise of her marriage to Brandon? Had the Lord not known of Ned’s forthcoming marriage? Of you?

You had been at Winterfell for well over a moon now, had come racing with your father and a few loyal men the instant you had received the raven regarding the Warden of the North’s demise at the hands of the Mad King. You had wanted to offer Ned comfort. Your dad had wanted to see you married before the inevitable horns of war were blown, but neither had yet to happen and now you understood why.

“Ned, my love,” you called, which made his back visibly stiffen, breaking your heart in one fell swoop, “what is the meaning of this?”

Ned turned and looked at you for the first time since you had entered his solar. His eyes were rimmed in red and his skin was much paler than you would have liked. Ned was often out in the woods hunting or working on his swordsmanship in the yard. His skin was often kissed by the sun just as you would have liked to kiss it yourself. You recalled the man you met upon your first visit to Winterfell just a moon after you first bled. Ned smiled beside his siblings as you exited the carriage. He kissed your hand with the softest lips, never letting his eyes travel away from your gaze. His cheeks had been red when Brandon practically had to pull you away from him so you could greet Lyanna and Benjen properly. You remembered wondering if it was a sunburn or blush upon his skin, hoping beyond hope that it was the latter. And when he stumbled in his sword work, finding himself completely pinned under his brother’s training blade when he saw you watching from the covered walkway above, you knew for sure it had been exactly that.

You were betrothed before the next feast day.

“It means that if we want the support of the Riverlands, I must marry Catelyn Tully,” he said, sounding much more firm than he looked.

“And how do you intent to respond?”

Ned looked at the floor and swallowed. “Well, I’ve narrowed it down to two possibilities: yes and no.”

You felt the lump growing in your throat as you fisted your skirts. You hoped you would be able to get out words.

“Just like that,” you said, “One Lord comes calling and you consider throwing me away? Do you not love me anymore?”

“It’s not like that—“ Ned spit his words with what could almost be anger but he stopped himself. He took short steps forward before falling into the chair beside you. “It’s not about love. It’s about the promise my father made to Lord Tully and—“

“And what about the promise he made to my father? Huh? Or the promises you’ve made to me? You promised to marry me, Ned, to love me, to be my lord husband. Am I just supposed to ignore all those letters you’ve written, all those late nights by the fires hoping the servants might not see our stolen kisses, the times you’ve told me you’ve missed me and how you’ve longed for the day I’ll be in your bed and the names you’ve already considered for our children?”

You were screaming now, not so much at Ned for considering following through with this request – if Ned was anything, it was honorable – but at all the other insane circumstances that you knew would pull this world apart but that you truly had believed wouldn’t be able to take away what you and Ned shared. That was the rule wasn’t it? The oldest marries for politics, the middle marries for peace, and the youngest serves the realm? You were a daughter of the north, a house that served and honored the Starks for years, a house with a bounty of resources and wealth to match the Starks in power if you didn’t share your northern values. You and Ned were the smart match for the North if not for your own hearts as well. Would the North not want a lady of their own blood running their largest stronghold and providing council to the man who called it his?

“Sometimes the promises of a boy do not align with the responsibilities of a man.” Ned said the words to the floor, though his hand seemed to fumble upon the armrest of the chair, clearly desiring to hold yours but unsure if it wise given his indecision.

As you sat together in silence, the tears were flowing in earnest. As you hiccuped to catch your breath, Ned made his decision and reached over your skirts. He caught your fingers in his own and squeezed them, strong and sure the way you hoped you might be as man and wife someday, a partnership that leaned on each other for strength.

“I don’t know what to say,” you managed.

“Nor do I.”

Ned’s other hand came up to run along your jaw and soon your head was resting against his shoulder, his own tears wetting the crown of your head.

“Stay with me, Ned,” you whisper, feeling desperate for the man before you.

“What you are asking of me could tear apart the realm.”

“Any more than Rhaegar already has?” you spat, the anger flying through you more and more by the second, by each moment Ned doesn’t simply say yes to you.

A moment of silence passed as you held each other before you must break it.

“Is there nothing we can do? Can’t you promise something better to Lord Tully?”

Ned gave a sad laugh, “What greater honor is there for his daughter than to be Lady over the largest of the Seven Kingdoms?”

“Queen?” you said without thinking, though at the words, Ned’s grip upon your back tightened before he began rubbing gentle circles into your flesh, his hand a little lower than would be considered proper had you not been alone. Even in this moment of pain, Ned gave you a little glimmer of what life might have been like as his wife if he ever gave you the pleasure. Your corset made the rub of his fingers feel like a ghost upon your skin. You wanted desperately to remove the garment, to allow him to touch your skin as he should. Part of you even wondered that if Ned could not be yours forever, perhaps he might be yours for a night, to allow you to taste the love you’ve sworn to all these years. But you knew Ned would never defile you so. His honor simply wouldn’t allow him to ruin you for your marriage bed, but maybe in a moment of weakness…

“I must leave at once, my lady.” Ned said the last words so quietly, fighting back pain. You hated to hear him so, but part of you was grateful that this hurt him too. “I must go give Lord Tully my word in person.”

“Will you return to me?” you asked, knowing how pathetic you sounded but honestly not caring.

Ned kissed your brow as he pulled your face away from his shoulder. He looked haggard, decades older than his years.

“I cannot say.”

You nodded. There was really nothing else you could do. Your eyes found your lap as you clasped your hands together. You loved the boy before you and as much as he was breaking your heart, you couldn’t bring it upon yourself to make this any harder for him in turn.

Ned’s hand found your chin and tilted your head upward, pulling you to meet his gaze once more. He looked like he wanted to say something but the words just were not there. Instead he gripped you a little tighter than you were used to and pulled your lips to his.

His kiss was tentative, soft and tender in a way only Ned could be. Ned was not one for many words – he never was – but the few fanciful phrases you were able to pull out of him over your engagement always came after moments like this, where he held you in his arms and took your lips against his when he thought no one could see.

When you finally gave in, leaning forward and tasting what you could of his glorious mouth, he poured his passion into you. It became the kind of kiss you assumed the common men spoke of when they praised whores. Ned had never given you so much of himself. His hands found your ribs and held you tight to him, pulling you from your chair and into his arms. He sat you upon his lap like a man carried his bride, caressing your sides as he explored your mouth with his lips and his tongue. You couldn’t stop yourself from holding tightly to his face, taking life and breath from him as if you would survive not a moment without it. The musk of him was setting your senses on fire and you felt the pain pull tight in your chest as his mouth left yours for only a moment, returning as quickly as it could to love upon your jaw and your neck with renewed vigor.

“Oh, Ned. My Ned,” you breathed as you held tightly to him. He was sucking upon your earlobe now but at the sound of the word ‘my,’ he completely stopped his movements. And after a quite moment, only your mutual breathing filling the void, Ned buried his head in your neck and cried.

The tears raked through his body, shook his core, and echoed in the room. You worried servants would come to check on you the boom was so loud but they seemed to know better than to open a closed door. All the pent up sadness, at the potential loss of you, the only constant left in his life after the death of his mother, his father, and his brother, the kidnapping of his sister and the war brewing just a few hundred miles south, was finally being released.

In your arms, Ned found the comfort to feel the pain he hadn’t felt since he put on the armor of Lord of Winterfell. And in your arms, he would leave it.

Minutes it took for Ned to calm down. And without warning, when his breathing grew stable, he picked you up and placed you on the settee by the window, allowing you to lie down among his things in his sacred space. He kissed your brow, allowing himself the chance to touch your soft lips, now red and puffy at his attentions, once more with his fingertips.

“I must leave Winterfell at once. And so should you.”

With strong strides, he walked towards the door, leaving you stunned.

Just as his hand found the doorknob, he turned to you.

“My lady—Y/N—I, I love you. No matter what happens, I know that I have never lied about loving you. I love you now and I venture I always will.”

And with that, he left his solar, and your life, for the great unknown. You sat for hours in that room, watching the stables and courtyard out the window until Ned and a handful of trusted men loaded up horses and began the long journey south to the Riverlands.

A year had passed since you last heard from Ned, not that you asked for any updates. Your entire energy had been focused on supplying the northern armies with food and shelter as they headed south and keeping the women and children of your keep warm and feed throughout the chaos. Ravens were few and far between, just the rogue notes from your men as they stopped at the inns on the high road, given you estimates of their needs and their returns.

The first you heard of Ned after he called upon your father’s armies just a week after your return home was a message that the Lord of Winterfell and his men would be resting at your residence on their long journey home, now that the war was won.

There was no mention of a Lady Stark.

You consumed yourself with preparations, daring not to ask too many questions about the fallout of the battles in the south. You knew of the destruction of the city, the death of the Mad King, and the downfall of many of the great houses but the specifics could be left until Lord Stark called the noble houses to his keep to inform them of the new regime running the Seven Kingdoms.

And so when you stood in the courtyard alongside your most trusted advisors, ready to greet your father and your lord, you were preparing yourself for the painful sight of him helping a pregnant Tully bride down from her carriage steps as well.

Ned and your father came riding through the gate together, though no carriage followed. You ran to your father with tears of joy, so grateful for the gods’ protection in seeing him safely home. And when you turned to Ned and he smiled at you, you hoped he might have found it in him for once to listen to his heart instead of his head.

But then you saw it, the tiny bundle in Ned’s arms, the dark head of hair so similar to his own and the little arms that fought to get out of the wool swaddling cloth. A true baby of the north.

A lump grew hard and heavy in your throat as you remembered yourself and dropped in your bow at your lord.

“My lord,” you said, gazing at the ground. You saw Ned’s fingers out of the corner of your eyes, helping to pull you back to standing. You took them and looked at the man who had your heart since you were but two and ten. He seemed sheepish, so different from the warrior you assumed he had grown into.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady L/N.”

“Lady Catelyn had a child?” you said with eyes down to the little boy, trying to hide the hurt in your heart at the thought that Ned’s first born would not be of your flesh and of your womb, a promise broken in exchange for another.

Ned swallowed, “Yes, she did, though this is not he.”

Your eyes flicked up to look at him full.

“The Baratheon babe is safely with his mother and father in King’s Landing.”

Ned was smiling full now, one of almost pride at you. Lord Tully was indeed willing to give up Catelyn’s place of Lady of Winterfell at the prospect of something greater. Ned took your council, the way a Lord should his lady wife. And the smile on his face let you know just now that he had spent a year fighting to guarantee that you could be just that.

Your heart swelled and you went to hug him, to shower him in the kisses you prayed you might be able to someday, but then the baby in Ned’s arms cooed again and you stopped yourself mid-motion.

And then everything came crashing down on your once more as tears filled your eyes. Ned fathered a bastard? The thought was so incongruous with the man you knew and loved. The idea of him sleeping with just anyone hurt even more than the idea of him finding another bride.

“My lady. My love,” Ned said, pulling your eyes to him once more, though the wheels of your brain just kept churning. His voice dropped to a whisper “I have never been disloyal to you. I would never choose to bring such shame upon your name. You will be my wife in truth and we shall only know each other for the rest of our days.”

“But—“ you began in protest but Ned’s body shot forward, keeping you close so his voice could maintain a whisper.

“How much did you love my sister, my sweet? Please tell me.”

You swallowed, feeling the loss of Lyanna acutely. “She was my closest and dearest friend,” you said in sincerity.

Ned smiled as he repositioned the baby so he might grip your hand. Taking a moment and rubbing his fingers over your knuckles, he continued, “Then, I need you to promise me that I can trust you with a very important secret.”

You looked down at the babe, at the dark hair upon his head and the cute button nose and the deep-set eyes so telling of his Stark roots. And immediately, like a candle flicking to life, it all made sense. You pulled Ned’s hand towards your lips and kissed it, nodding in turn as if your love for him was not confirmation enough, before taking the baby boy into your arms to surround him in motherly love.

All tags: @fangirlandnerd, @aerdnandreaa, @thisisbullshytt, @cancerousjojian, @whovianayesha, @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy, @luna-xxxxx, @sleepylunarwolf, @starryrevelations, @potter-thinking, @all-by-myself98, @bananafosters-and-books, @cutie-bug, @igotmadskills, @hazelandcoconuts, @yallgotkik

#game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #ned stark #ned stark imagine #ned stark x reader #eddard stark #eddard stark imagine #eddard stark x reader #asoiaf #asoiaf imagine #x reader #reader insert #ardentmuse almost 2k celebration #igotmadskills #lia talks

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vikingpoteto · 4 years

Text

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 5 on AO3

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Relationships: (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all.

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Jason Todd is many things. A street rat. A literature nerd. A former hero. A crime-lord. Dealing with anger issues. Ignoring a whole lot of other issues. But he isn’t an idiot. And, while he’s been bamboozled more times he can count, he realizes Tim Drake is a bigger conundrum than he anticipated. He isn’t about to be fooled again.

He thought he had Tim figured out. Rich kid. Too smart for his own good. Smug beyond repair. No regard for his own well-being. Incapable of holding grudges. He thought the kid couldn’t surprise him, not in a way that mattered, until that first night.

That’s when he starts taking note of the small things.

Saturday is uneventful. Jason wishes he could say he forgets he isn’t living alone anymore, but, even though Tim makes little to no noise as he sleeps the morning away, Jason is painfully aware that he has a roommate. He can’t focus on his book, he can’t focus on the absurdly detailed report Tim made him. He definitely can’t focus on anything else after Tim flies down the stairs like a speedster, blurts out something that could’ve been good morning and disappears in the kitchen. Jason heads to his room, assuming the kid is getting himself breakfast, and he tries to take a nap. He fails.

After giving up and heading downstairs to make dinner, he finds the kitchen as clean as he left — did Tim do the dishes? Did he eat at all? — and he can barely hear faint noises downstairs. He makes a mental note to fix the sound proofness of his walls as he climbs down.

In his Office, like Jason calls it, he finds Tim wearing headphones. The music is loud enough that Jason can clearly hear muffled heavy metal. The computer is half dismantled, half loading something somehow, and Tim is carefully tinkering with the suit Jason gave him.

Instead of throwing something at him like he wants to, Jason walks into his field of view and waves at his face. Tim takes off the headphones.

“The fuck you doing?” Jason asks.

“Fixing stuff. I know you love Jane Austen, but do you have to use the same software she used to write?”

Jason punches him in the shoulder. He regrets it instantly and curses at himself inwardly. Tim, however, doesn’t even flinch. He snickers as though that was the reaction he expected.

Huh. Jason files that away for later analysis.

He gets Tim to suit up and they head out for the night.

They don’t go together per se, as Red Hood is still laying low, planting the seeds subtly so no one notices until he’s ready to make an entrance. He gets intel. Ruins the plan of a very misguided small dealer. And finally saves a pair of prostitutes from a harasser. He wears nothing but a domino mask all night, because there are only a few key players that must know Red Hood is back. He smiles at the girls after he’s done and they get excited asking him if he’s the Red Hood. He takes off without answering.

Red Hood has always been popular with prostitutes, as weird as that sounds. What can Jason say? The girls that worked near the street he grew up in were the nicest people he knew; he has a soft spot for them.

He meets up with Tim near the end of the night and he finds that Tim’s spoken reports are a lot briefer than his written ones: he stopped some muggings. Probably broke the kneecaps of some creep near the park. Confirmed intel he got from his research. He actually saved a cat stuck on a tree too, which makes Jason roll his eyes. They go back to Jason’s place without further ado.

Sunday is more of the same, except Jason manages to actually sleep. That is, until the sound of a hammer wakes him up.

He finds Tim in his living room dismantling an old television he got from God knows where. The shouting match that follows should make things more awkward, but instead it makes them easier.

Turns out Tim doesn’t mind exchanging insults or having dusty pillows thrown at him, and Jason feels more at ease by the time they swallow cold sandwiches and head out.

He has this unreasonable pang of anxiety when Tim vanishes into the shadows, but he shakes it off. The Red Robin suit is getting better everyday and, thanks to the cowl, Tim looks older and more menacing than he actually is, meaning no one is going to fuck with him.

It’s fine. They have a plan. It’s working. There are rumors that Hood is back, though nothing but whispers. Enough to stir his territory without getting unwanted attention from the better neighborhoods.

It isn’t until Monday at around 1pm that the other shoe drops. Jason wakes up scratching his belly and walks past Tim on the way to the kitchen.

“Morning, sleeping beauty,” Tim mumbles.

“Fuck off, Replacement,” he says back.

The kid is fucking with something that smells like oil on the kitchen table. Jason thinks to himself he should have words with him about it… after his morning tea. Morning tea at 1pm, but still.

He’s boiling water and staring blankly at Tim when he realizes: it’s Monday.

“Wait, what the fuck are you doing here?”

Tim stares at him. Back at the myriad of circuits spread around the table. Then back at Jason

“Wrist computer,” he says.

“No, here !”

“The kitchen?”

“Home! You’re, like, 17, right? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Tim stares at him as though he’s grown a second head. “Jason. I don’t know how to tell you this, but I stopped going to school after my father died again and I traveled abroad to work with an organization of murderers.”

“That was a fucking month ago. You get a month of skipped classes, your dad died. Now that you’re here, you can go back.”

His chin actually drops and Jason is greeted by the sight of a nearly white chewed gum threatening to fall from Tim’s open mouth.

“I’m not going back to high school. Are you insane?”

“Are you insane? Of course you’re going back to school. Don’t you have, I don’t know, friends or a girlfriend or… whatever!”

“No, I don’t?” Tim scowls. “You want me to go to school so I can date? Why don’t you go to school?”

“Everyone thinks I’m dead.”

“Oh, heck off, you don’t get to pull the death card with me,” Tim rolls his eyes. “It works with Dick and Bruce, but I’m immune.”

“The fact that you still say heck off means you definitely should be at school around people your age. Get some bullies. It builds character.”

Tim’s pale cheeks go crimson and Jason has to bite back a grin. Knowing that Tim blushes like that opens so many teasing opportunities.

“Shut up, I got used to it because Alfred got mad at us for cursing! And I don’t need school to get bullied, I have you right here.”

Jason decides to test a theory. It’s a wicked idea, but Jason isn’t known for fighting fair.

“Tim. I ain’t raising an uneducated goblin.”

“I’m seventeen ! You’re not fucking raising me! You’re like a muscular child sharing a place with a slightly smaller child!”

“If you don’t go back to school, the deal is off. I’m not keeping you around.”

And, just like that, Tim closes his mouth and all the color drains from his face. Jason expected this. He doesn’t feel great about it.

“Y-you… Dick will notice if I start going back to school,” he tries. “This is against the plan. Batman will know we’re working together.”

“No. He’ll know you’re back in town. Make an excuse. I know you’re great at it.”

“This will affect my productivity. I won’t be able to upgrade your gear as fast and I’ll have to sleep more. This is-”

“Non-negotiable. School or no partnership.”

Jason knows it’s too late for him. It might be too late for Tim, too. But not late enough that Jason will let him give up. Tim may never have a normal life - the fact that he’s working with his almost murderer more than proves it. Jason selfishly wants to make sure he has at least a little normality.

This is about Jason, not Tim. Jason doesn’t think he can live with another deadman walking.

“Fine,” Tim says, like he’s agreeing to a death sentence. “I’m going back to school tomorrow. You happy?”

“Hella,” Jason says. He turns back to his tea. “And Tim? I’ll know if you’re skipping and I’ll kill you if you do.”

Tim starts listing a colorful collection of insults a lot worse than heck off. Jason grins at him and Tim, in his teenage rage, doesn’t seem to notice that the smile doesn’t reach Jason’s eyes.

So Jason's theory is confirmed. Tim Drake doesn’t care about attempts on his life. He isn’t afraid to fight an armed man. He isn’t afraid of having a familiar person taking a swing at him, so Jason doesn’t think that he has issues with physical abuse.

Nothing freaks him out as much as someone critiquing his work, though. And not in the asshole way, that would be way too easy. As cocky as he is, Tim doesn’t look like the type to think he can do no wrong. He wouldn’t get irrationally angry over someone pointing out he can do better. He does, however, flip out at the mere possibility that he’s done something wrong and didn’t own up to it already.

Jason thought he knew Tim until he jokingly complained about him sleeping on the job and saw genuine horror in his eyes. Horror like never before, not even when Jason beat him and tried to leave him for dead. Hell, at that point the kid said he was a better Robin right before passing out.

Who did this to him, Jason wonders? Who convinced Tim that the worst he can be isn’t a high school dropout or even a dead boy, but a person who messes up? His biological parents? Bruce? Is Tim even aware of it?

Jason doesn’t know, and he isn't sure what to do about it. Can he do something about it? He remembers far too well, thinking Bruce brought him in because he wanted another Robin. How every time he made Bruce laugh, or solved a case, it felt like a victory. How every time he got scolded, he expected Bruce to send him back to where he came from. He remembers having that fear confirmed when he heard from Talia that he’d been replaced.

Is there really something to be done?

Despite a good deal of complaining about work hours, Tim starts going to school. Jason hounds him to make sure he isn’t lying and he’s pretty sure he’ll have to keep checking regularly, because, if he learned anything about Tim, is that the kid is scarily patient and spiteful.

He stalks him all the way to school on the first day, making it painfully obvious that he’s there even if Tim puts a lot of effort into pretending he can’t see him. He pops at Tim’s classroom window and waves cheerfully as Tim flips the bird at him. Waking up early was hell, but Jason finds it ridiculously fun to make Tim annoyed.

On Friday, Jason decides to pick Tim up after class just to keep him on his toes… then he almost crashes his motorcycle into a lamppost when he sees a fancy car and a familiar man leaning against it.

Dick Grayson.

Despite the fun distractions Jason came up with, his whole damn body still remembers the beating he took. He wonders if Dick took as long to recover after that night.

His fake second death would be really short-lived but, lucky for him, Dick is preoccupied with something else. Jason parks around the corner. His height wouldn’t allow him to hide among the flux of rich kids walking out of school looking for their chauffeurs, but he has to come closer.

Well, time to get those stealthy muscles to work.

Ironically, it was Dick who taught him that the best hiding spot was in plain sight, and that’s how he casually walks behind the sports car and heads towards a beaten phone booth.

Dick doesn’t notice him.

Whether it was thanks to Jason’s skills or the fact that the older man looks like he’s having an internal anxiety attack, Jason may never find out. He does, however, hear it when Tim’s voice lets out a long word that definitely isn’t heck . He risks taking a peek at the duo and sees Dick smiling. He looks tired.

“Timbo,” he greets.

“Don’t call me that,” Tim groans. He would’ve sounded like your everyday grumpy teenager, but there’s too much tension in his jaw.

“Welcome back,” Dick says. “Were you planning on telling anyone you’re around?”

“I’m assuming you don’t mind, since you kept paying for my school. I was also checking to see how long it’d take you to find out.”

Jason almost snorts. Who knew the kid had it in him? Furthermore, it’s impressive how Tim methodically and deliberately hid all signs of displeasure. He looks earnestly happy to see Dick and he almost makes his barb sound like friendly banter.

“Timmy, you were gone for almost two months. Where were you?”

“I was pursuing a lead. It didn’t pan out. So I’m back.”

Dick is quiet after that. Jason assumes he knows damn well Tim isn’t one to give up just like that. At the same time, Jason can see Dick assessing the differences between the kid in front of him and the kid he last saw.

“Let’s go home. We need to talk,” he says finally.

“Sorry, I can’t. I’m heading to a friend’s house so we can do homework together. I have a lot to catch up.”

“Tim…”

“You were right, Dick.” Tim smiles softly. “Damian needs you now. I don’t.”

Dick flinches. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” he chuckles. “Let me rephrase that: I’m fine. You know, when you first asked me to help Bruce, I planned on staying for a few months. A year, tops. I was always supposed to go back to my normal life.”

“Timmy, you’re family,” Dick pleads. “Your normal life doesn’t include going home?”

Tim’s expression is empty of emotion when he replies: “I need space now. I’m not going back, Dick. I’m sorry. I have a place to stay. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“ Where are you staying? Do you need help setting up anything or…”

“I’ll text you the address later. Right now I really need to go, though.”

Dick presses his lips into a tight line. He hesitates before reaching out to hug him. Surprisingly to Jason, Tim allows it and even hugs him back, even if not as tightly as Dick does.

Jason didn’t realize that. The whole time, he thought Tim needed his older brother and Dick was painfully blind to it. It never occurred to him how Dick also needed Tim. He wonders if Dick felt lost when Tim went away, or if he realized how messed up it was to rely on a teenager.

And Jason’s file on Wayne drama keeps growing thicker.

“Come over for dinner tomorrow?” Dick tries again. “Alfie misses you.”

“And annoy Damian in the process? I’d love to.” Tim deadpans.

Dick finally pulls away from the hug. “He’s made a lot of progress. You’d be surprised.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t remember I punched him before I left.”

“Tim. Dinner?”

“Why would I say no to free food?” Tim gives him a crooked smile.

Dick moves as though it’s painful to let Tim go. He retreats to his car as slowly as it’s humanly possible, like he expects Tim to change his mind and join him. Tim smiles and waves until Dick vanishes around the corner. His look turns hollow, but none of the kids walking past him seems to notice it. Not even when Tim calls out:

“You can come out now. He’s really gone.”

Jason pretends not to hear two girls letting out startled little squeals when he leaves his hiding spot.

“That was cold blooded, Replacement,” Jason says, stretching his hand to Tim. “I knew you were a liar, but that was impressive.”

Without blinking, Tim takes out a tracker from the collar of his shirt and another from his hair. He hands both to Jason. “I didn’t lie, mostly,” he says. “I did plan on leaving after Bruce got better. Or at least when we found a better replacement. That didn’t work like I expected.”

Jason doesn’t say anything as he casually crushes one of the trackers under his boot and places the other on a random kid passing by. He knows how magical it feels to be Robin. He doesn’t think he could quit out of free will. He still remembers the addicting adrenaline that makes you feel like you’re really a bird soaring across the sky.

Until you’re not.

He notices it when Tim looks down at his own feet. Without thinking, he reaches for Tim’s head and messes up his hair.

“C’mon. I got the parts you asked. You can finish tinkering your suit tonight.”

They take the night off. It’s too risky going patrolling the night Dick found out about Tim’s return. Instead, they sit in the living room and Jason turns on the TV while Tim finishes adjusting the suit. The documentary about fish only keeps Jason’s attention for about five minutes before he notices Tim is butchering his cowl. Of course they start bickering.

The new mask isn’t quite a domino. It still has a nose guard similar to a bird’s beak that creates the illusion that Tim’s nose is more aquiline rather than a small snub, which is good to hide one’s identity. Still, Jason thinks going out without head protection is fucking stupid and Tim goes on a rant about looking like he’s wearing a condom on his head. Jason didn’t say anything when Tim replaced the old bandoliers with yellow ones with more compartments. The condom head thing hurts, though, and he ends up beating the shit out of Tim with a couch pillow.

A good deal of screaming and kicking each other later, they return to the task of redesigning. Tim replaces the RR in the middle of his chest with a bird-like symbol that hides a panic button. He switches the black gloves for sleeker red ones, although the middle finger and indicator are black. Jason thinks Tim is trying to make it more dramatic when he flips the bird (heh. Robin flipping bird) but Tim punches Jason’s shoulder and says the new gloves allow him to use his wrist pad more easily.

Jason hits him when he notices he weakened some of the defenses, and they bicker some more before Tim gives in and puts the shin guards and knee protectors back.

The cowl and the cape are gone, much to Jason’s annoyance, and he says Tim’ll look stupid. Tim calls him a knock-off Iron Man. Jason tries to smother him to death with a pillow when Tim doesn’t stop laughing.

It’s the most fun Jason had in… God, how long? He doesn’t remember the last time he could just joke back and forth like this. It doesn’t do good to your reputation as a crime lord if you give the drug dealers a noogie. Tim, on the other hand? Tim gets at least five noogies a day because he’s a dumbass.

It isn’t until they head to their rooms, later that night, that Jason realizes he hasn’t thought about his fight with Dick at all since they started working on the suit. He would've never guessed Tim’s presence wouldn’t be a bitter reminder of everything Jason lost, but rather than a good distraction.

Another week goes by before the suit is finished.

Jason swallows his pride and admits (to himself, at least) that getting rid of the cape was a smart move when he and Tim stand next to each other in full uniform. Tim’s new outfit doesn’t look out of place near Jason’s bulletproof vest and leather jacket. They’re a lot less dramatic than the Bats, and Jason likes that. They’re their own team, not one of them .

“Comms?” Jason asks.

“Tested and protected. Even Oracle would have to manually tinker with them to get into our frequency.”

“And you decided your field name yet?”

Tim hesitates. “I… Red Robin is fine.”

Jason nods. “Plan?”

“Break into Black Mask’s warehouse through the vent, plant…”

“Red Robin,” he cuts off. “Plan.”

Tim sighs. “Make Roman our bitch.”

“Atta boy. Let’s go.”

It’s an operation as simple as it is petty: Black Mask thought he could take over one of Hood’s warehouses. Jason was going to prove him wrong. It wasn’t a key hideout, but it was a relatively safe place if you were in the business of laundering money — discreet, easy to access without being noticed by the pigs, with most of the sewers around it hadn’t been blown up, which was always a plus. Hood was almost sure Roman took it just to show that he could and turned it into a drug warehouse to spite Hood. The fact that he disliked drugs wasn’t exactly a secret, after all. Szazs probably was involved in the process, Jason was sure.

In the end, Tim convinced him the stealthy approach was better. Just get in, ruin the whole operation and, by the time Black Mask realized it, he had lost a ton of money. Poetic justice and all that.

Jason complained about the plan being boring, but, as they get on their bikes to head out, he feels almost jittery. He doesn’t know if it’s just the thrill of being on the field again after so long — sue him, he’s an adrenaline junkie — or the prospect of the petty revenge. Either way, Red Hood grins under the helmet and, almost as though he can see his expression — or as though he’s feeling the same — Red Robin smirks back.

Just like that, they take off into the night. The wind howls past them as Hood leads the race, fast enough that it seems like he’s riding aimlessly. It doesn’t mean he isn’t choosing the way methodically. He knows he’s picking the right streets, the dark ones in which the dark red leather merges perfectly with the shadows. They rush past buildings with closed windows, sure that no one is stupid enough to glance at the two suspiscious riders.

Red Hood makes a sharp turn that would’ve made a less experienced driver fall into the asphalt. He hears Red Robin whooping excitedly behind him and he can’t help but laugh.

When they’re just a few blocks from the warehouse, they stop. At this point, Hood almost considers throwing the plan away — crashing the motorcycle into the place would make for an excellent entrance — but, as though reading his thoughts, Red Robin gives him a pointed look before getting off his bike.

“You’re such a wet blanket,” Hood says, even though no words were truly exchanged before that.

“And you’re a drama queen,” Red Robin retorts. And he grapples up to the nearest rooftop before Hood can give him a noogie for that.

Lighter and more agile, Red leads the way now and Hood is happy to be his shadow until they reach the strategic spot they picked — the two story building next door.

“Thank god this place didn’t crumble,” Hood comments absently. “The other buildings are too far for a clear view.”

Red gives him a strange look. “I checked whether it was still standing while we were planning the attack. Do you not verify the surroundings when you’re making strategies?”

“I like to leave room for improvisation; I’m not a stick in the mud like you.”

Red rolls his eyes under the mask as he reaches for the binoculars in his belt. Hood does the same. There shouldn’t be a lot of activity tonight if their intel is correct, and it looks like it is. They can’t see the inside of the warehouse — which is why Red Hood liked the place so much, damn it — but they can still see the roof as clearly as they can see the vent they chose to… Hood freezes.

“Hey Hood?” Red Robin calls.

Jason pulls a face under the hood. “Yes?”

“Remember our plan to lay low so Batman doesn’t notice us?”

“Hmm.”

“Remember how I wanted to check on the rogues and you told me to stop being a stick in the mud?” He hisses.

“No one likes a bitching vigilante, Red.”

“Freaking Poison Ivy is here.” Red Robin gestures widely at the roof of the warehouse, as though Red Hood can’t see the green lady trying to get in through the very same vent they planned on using.

“See, that’s the beauty of crime fighting. You make a plan. The plan goes wrong. You throw the plan away.”

“Oh my freaking God,” he groans, “this is Young Justice all over again, but worse.”

Despite the complaining, they seem to be in agreement about what to do next: they take their grapple guns and shoot at Ivy’s blindspot. Red Robin is already getting his rebreather to filter whatever toxins they’re about to face.

The boys land almost silently all things considered. Without thinking, Hood points at the other side of the roof and crosses an X in front of his lips, before closing a fist. Red Robin nods and sprints without a question.

For the second time, Jason freezes. The instructions were clear — take the other side, we’re going for a surprise attack after cornering her — but they shouldn’t have been. He didn’t realize he kept using those gestures to give orders, because he hadn’t had anyone working this close to him in literal years. He didn’t realize he still remembered the whole language — ASL, but also specific gestures that only made sense among Bats — until he had Red Robin following his orders. Something in his stomach feels heavy.

“... Hood ? Do you copy? ” Says a hushed voice in his ear.

Shit. Get it together, Jason.

He presses the comm button. “Listening.”

On the other side of the line, Red Robin sighs. “ Oh thank god, I thought the comms were suddenly fried. I’m in position. ”

Shit . “Hang on,” he says. He finally starts moving, extra careful not to make any noise.

“ You good, man?” Red asks, and Hood can practically see the confused furrow of his brow.

“Yeah, yeah, be quiet before Ivy hears us.”

He finally gets close enough to see her — she’s unscrewing the air vent cover to get in, even though she could probably just get a giant peach to roll over the place or something. It looks like Red Hood and Red Robin weren’t the only ones trying to be stealthy tonight.

He takes one step closer, and many things happen at the same time: the metal roof creaks under his boot. Ivy goes stiff for half a second. Then Jason is doing a backflip to avoid being bombarded with freaking thorns? When the hell did Ivy add a machine gun of thorns to her arsenal?

“Red Hood?” She stands, frowning. “Huh. I heard you were dead.”

“I get that a lot,” he says.

He reaches for his guns as Ivy waves her hand gracefully. Red Hood watches, with mild disgust, as what he thought was a weird belt snakes its way up Ivy’s torso until she has two venus flytraps settle on her shoulders.

“Fucking gross,” he says.

“I get that a lot,” she quips.

When he shoots at her, she’s ready. A branch grows fast enough to take the bullet for her and, before he realizes, she’s already inside his personal space. Hood dodges a punch in the throat but she keeps advancing. She knows better than letting him keep her at shooting range.

Welp, brute force it is then.

Hood puts his gun away at the same time he dodges a kick to the face. He takes a swing. One of Ivy’s pet plants almost bites his fist and he barely has time to retreat before the pesky thing takes a piece out of his glove.

“Huh. My sixth grade teacher told me those things are only lethal to flies,” he huffs.

Ivy grins. “My children are special.”

She presses and attacks again, and this time Hood lets her. When her knee hits his stomach, he grabs her by the calf and uses her own momentum against her. She barely weighs anything when he throws her hard at the ground, her back hitting metal and her pained groan muffled by the loud clang. He cringes. So much for stealth.

He makes to kick her before she recovers her wits, but apparently plants are more resistant than they seem. Hood feels his foot stuck to something and he curses when he looks down and sees thick vines holding him back. Shit, why didn’t he consider she had traps prepared around her?

“That was kinda rude, Hood,” she grins, slowly sitting up. “But I’m not mad. I might even give you a little kiss.”

By then, his resistance is futile and he wishes he hadn’t put his guns away so fast, because the vines quickly wrap around his whole damn body and he can’t even shoot the b —

A flying staff hits her on the side of the head.

“ACK!” Ivy shrieks, falling to the side.

“What are you doing, Hood?” Red Robin hisses, pressing a batarang into Red Hood’s hands.

“The hell?” Ivy groans, now looking dizzy. “I thought you worked alone.”

“I’m the intern. They call me Red Robin.”

And he stands over her, looking all heroic and ready to fight. Ivy, however, stays where she is, gaping at him.

“Bullshit. You’re regular Robin,” she says. “I thought you died. We all did when we saw the smaller Robin.”

Hood snorts.

The kid deflates a bit. “How the hell do you know who I am?”

“You’re Harley’s favorite Robin,” she says simply. “She got really grumpy when we heard there’s a new Robin again.”

“I’m Harley’s — Wait, you guys have favorite Robins?”

“Of course we do. Mine’s the girl one. She didn’t die, did she?”

That’s one of the most surreal conversations Red Hood ever witnessed and he’s leading an unusual second life. Fortunately, Ivy is distracted enough — or at least hurt enough — that she doesn’t intervene while he cuts himself free.

“What are you doing here, Dr. Isley?” Red Robin asks. “Are you aware that this place is Black Mask’s?”

She scowls at him. “Are you aware that Sionis is a misogynistic jerk and he’s doing a lot of damage to the environment in this stupid warehouse? I’m going to take this thing down.”

“Hey, fuck off, this place was mine before Sionis stepped in,” Hood protests.

“I don’t care if you’re his landlord.” She gives him a scathing look. “I want him out.”

“This is great then!” Red Robin smiles. “We also want him out. And we have eco friendly plans for the place after Black Mask is out of the equation.”

Ivy gapes at Red Robin as though he started speaking a foreign language out of the blue. Red Hood is thankful for his helmet because he’s sure his expression isn’t much better.

“Are you suggesting we team up with Poison Ivy?”

“Why not?” Red Robin smiles as if he’s suggesting they should have burgers later. “The enemy of my enemy, right? Plus, I used to give her a free pass here and there because sometimes she’s right, you know?”

“Huh. So that’s why you’re Harls’ favorite.”

Red Robin shrugs again and stretches his hand to her. “Friends for the night?”

To Red Hood’s utter shock, she hesitates for less than a second before taking the kid’s hand and letting him pull her back to her feet.

“Just tonight, though,” she says.

If anyone told Jason tonight he’d be working with no one other than the Poison Ivy to take down one of Black Mask’s drug labs, he’d call them insane.

Nonetheless, he watches as Ivy throws caution to the wind — there’s no way the people inside didn’t hear their little scuffle — and uses one of their sentient plants to rip off an entrance on the metal roof. Right before jumping in, however, Red Robin squeezes his shoulder.

“What was that?” he whispers low enough that Ivy won’t hear them. “You were off. That wasn’t like you.”

Hood shrugs his hand away. “We’ll talk about this later. Come on, we can’t let Ivy have all the fun.”

They can already hear the screaming inside, so Red has no option other than compliance. Time to crash the party, he was looking forward to this.

And it’s fun. Having Tim around is fun. Watching a bunch of crooks run terrified of a plant lady is fun. Rounding up his former employees — those traitors — and watching their comically horrified faces upon realizing he isn’t dead is fun.

So much fun he completely misses the fact that there was someone else tailing Ivy. No one sees it when a young boy clad in bright colors rushes away from the place. Robin doesn’t know what to make out of what he witnessed tonight.

#red hood #jason todd #red robin #tim drake #batfam #red bros #poteto writing

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nastybuckybarnes · 6 years

Text

Passing Notes - One

A Bucky Barnes X Female!Reader College AU (Mini Series) {Part 1/4}

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Female!Reader AU

Summary: You sit at the same table ever day at the little café down the street from campus, each day with a different book. Often poetry. And Bucky Barnes is always in the table next to you, usually doing the same thing. He either reads, writes, or sketches. One day, a dropped notebook leads to... something? Will that something turn to dust after an eye opening realization?

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Mentions of Masturbation and Other.. Smutty things, Sexual Tension, Kinda NSFW but idk (just throwing this in here so no one flips out),

Word Count: 3K

A/N: Here it is! Part one! I won’t be posting a lot because I’m really swamped with school right now but in less than a month I’ll be posting daily!

*I give credit to the author in each poem I use at some point in the chapter whether thats right after it's used or at the end.*

EDITED POORLY TAG LISTS ARE OPEN

MASTERLIST BUCKY MASTERLIST

‘Romance seldom happens overnight. Sometimes we have to grow the roses before we can give them.’ You stick a little post-it on that particular page then copy the poem down into your old worn notebook. Feeling eyes on you, you look up at the culprit.

James 'Bucky’ Barnes sits a seat away, watching you with intent and curious blue-grey eyes.

You blush and quickly avert your eyes, your gaze finding the page of your latest poetry book. “Aright. Thanks everyone and have a lovely afternoon,” Professor Lee says, dismissing everyone.

You pack your stuff up quickly, wanting to get to the café before anyone takes your signature spot.

In her haste, Bucky sees the girl beside him drop her notebook.

He watches as she runs out, not even glancing back at anything in the room, much less the floor where her notebook lies.

Silently and slowly, he picks up her notebook, flipping through the pages quickly then stopping on the almost-blank one she was writing on a few moments before she left.

He reads the poem quickly then bites his bottom lip while fighting an internal battle with himself: write a note to the mysterious poem girl who’s always wrapped up in her own mind, or, simply give it back when he sees her next.

Shaking his head and grabbing a mechanical pencil, he writes a quick poem then a little note underneath it.

Satisfied with his work -vandalism?- he packs his stuff up and heads to the little café where poem girl usually goes after lectures, her notebook tucked safely under his arm.

Your heart drops as you search through your things, trying desperately to find the notebook where you store hundreds of your favourite poems, including some that you yourself have written.

Giving up after a few more minutes of fruitless searching, you sit and sulk with your drink and snack de jours.

Your eyes stare out the window into the pouring rain as you get totally lot in thought.

A soft 'thud' on the table you're at snaps you out of your trance.

You glance down at the object, relief filling you. "My notebook! Thank you so much!" You look up at your hero and feel yourself get flustered. In front of you stands James 'Bucky' Barnes.

"It's no problem," he says while nonchalantly sitting in the table beside yours.

You open your notebook and inspect it carefully, flipping through the pages until your eyes land on the newest addition, not written in your handwriting.

''Sadly, we're too tired to start over and too afraid to let go.' -R. H. Sin. Michael Faudet is an incredible poet. I didn't really peg you for a 'Smoke & Mirrors' person, Poem Girl.''

You glance up at the brunet and smile before looking back down at your notebook and scratching out a quick reply.

'Well I didn't necessarily peg you for a poetry person at all. I guess we can't shouldn't judge a book by its cover, huh? Thanks again, by the way.'

You slide your notebook towards him, gently biting the lid of your pen as he reads what you wrote. He chuckles softly. You smile as he jots down another response before sliding your book back to you.

'I guess you're right. Can I know you're name so that I'm not just calling you 'Poem Girl' all the time?' You can't help but giggle as you write down your reply like a fifth grader.

'I don't know. I think 'Poem Girl' kinda fits me. Maybe I should call you 'Poem Guy' instead of James.' He stares at you as you write then sits up straighter as you slide the book over to him.

He laughs softly and looks up at you, a goofy grin on his lips. You bite your lip to hide a smile and look out the window while taking a sip of your white hot chocolate. Your notebook is suddenly in front of you again, the page flipped with a short paragraph written on it.

'C'mon Poem Girl. You know my name. Why can't I know yours? Besides, it'll be hard to continue dedicating poems and drawings to someone who won't tell me their name.'

You don't miss the opportunity to quote Shakespeare in your next paragraph to him. 'What's in a name? A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. So Poem Girl would, were she not Poem Girl called, retain that dear mystery to which she owes without that title.'

He chuckles and quickly scribbles down another reply.

'Shakespeare, huh? Well that is true, however there's a certain mystery in wondering about how a person acquired their name, isn't there?'

'Yes, I suppose there is. However I must leave to be on time for my next lecture. I leave you with a curious mind and a question to ponder overnight.'

He looks up at you after reading it and smiles lightly before writing something down.

'Then Poem Girl, if you must leave, leave with one of my personal favourites. 'She was a curious girl, who loved the smell of old books, chasing butterflies, and touching herself under the covers.' Michael Faudet, Dirty Pretty Things. Until next time - Bucky Barnes (AKA Poem Guy).'

Your eyebrows raise practically to your hairline as you read the poem and Bucky chuckles, knowing it would fluster you. You pack your stuff up and clutch your notebook to your chest as you walk out of the café and into the rain.

Bucky watches you the entire way and you feel it. You feel his eyes on you until you turn the corner and are out of sight of the café.

"Why do you have that 'I just got laid' look on your face?" Wanda asks skeptically. You roll your eyes and plop down in the seat next to her. "I just... I'm happy. I made a friend." She gasps and clutches her chest. "Excuse me! I thought I was your friend."

You roll your eyes again, "you're my best friend whom I can never seem to get rid of. But it was a boy. A boy who was nice to me despite his reputation." She scans your face for a moment before snapping.

"It's Bucky."

You nearly choke on your own saliva. "How the Hell did you figure it out so fast?!" She giggles, poking your ribs. "I'm your best friend. I can tell who you met by the look in your eyes."

You smile and read over the notes you and Bucky passed to each other for the majority of the lecture.

When you sit down in the café the next day, Bucky is already in his spot and there's a piece of paper at your spot. You sit down and uncrumple it carefully, reading what it says.

'Poem Girl. Today I was thinking we could exchange some of our favourite poems. The topic of the day being Love.'

You nod and grab a piece of looseleaf to write on instead of your notebook.

''Love is a double edged sword that conquers hearts but can also cut the hand the wields it'. Michael Faudet, 'Smoke & Mirrors'.'

You slide the paper to him and he smiles before writing down his own poem about love. When you read it, you're surprise.

''Her love is an ocean and her waves are misunderstood' R. H. Sin. Came across this one a few years ago, don't remember what it was from though, sorry.'

'No need to apologize, Poem Guy. Have another poem instead: 'Maybe you're not hard to love. Maybe you're expecting love from those incapable of loving you' R. H. Sin. It surprised me that you chose this topic. Usually guys the guys I've been around/with shy away from anything having to do with love.'

He shakes his head and scribbles something down quickly.

'That's because those guys only think with their genitals.'

'And I'm to assume that you, Poem Guy, are different?'

He cracks a small smile.

'I suppose my reputation does indicate that I'm like them. But how much of what others say can you believe?'

'I guess you're right. You haven't exactly lived up to your reputation -which is a good thing in my personal opinion. Anyway... I believe it's your turn.'

He chuckles softly and his eyes meet yours for a moment, his gaze warming your insides.

''I do not need the kind of love that is draining. I want someone who energizes me.' Rupi Kaur, 'The Sun and her Flowers'.'

You bite your pen cap again for a moment, before going with your instincts.

''Love is a little like religion. You need to have faith before miracles can happen.' I leave you with the words of Michael Faudet before I depart. Until next time, Poem Guy. Sincerely yours, Mysterious Poem Girl.'

Bucky smiles at the note, watching as you pack up and leave just like the day before.

You toss your stuff down at the table you always sit at and rub your eyes for a moment before looking up at Bucky’s usually spot.

He’s not here yet.

You grab a piece of looseleaf and write down a small note.

‘Today, Poem Guy, I’d like it if we could share some of the poems that stand out more in our minds. Here’s mine: ‘their concept of beauty is manufacture. i am not.’ The Sun and her Flowers, Rupi Kaur.’

You slide the note over to his spot just as he walks through the door. His eyes find yours and a smile breaks out across his face as he orders his snacks. He sits down at his spot once he has his things and carefully unfolds the note. He reads what you wrote and nods, grabbing a pen and writing his own note before sliding the paper to you.

‘Hello Poem Girl. I like this topic but be warned, my taste in poems is a bit more... explicit. For example: ‘Put your hands on my knees, she said, and think of me as a book you’ve been dying to read.’ Dirty Pretty Things, Michael Faudet. If you’re fine with my taste then let’s continue, if not, we’ll pick another topic.’

Heat flashes between your legs for a moment, causing you to bite your lip and write down your own poem of such genre.

‘Well, Poem Guy, have another Michael Faudet poem. ‘I know it’s wrong, but the very thought of your hands, reaching up under my skirt, and touching me, makes me blush in all the right places.’ -Dirty Pretty Things.’

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline and his jaw drops as he looks from the page, up to you. He shakes his head, a smile on his pink lips, and writes a response.

‘Well well. I didn’t think someone so shy and timid would be able of even writing that stuff. Hope this one doesn’t make you flustered. ‘I love to watch you touch yourself, on rainy afternoons. The wandering hands. The soft little moans. Hips twitching. Wet fingers fucking. A solo show, performed for one.’ -Michael Faudet.’

You squeeze your eyes shut and shift slightly in your seat, trying desperately to ignore the burning in-between your thighs. Bucky chuckles and you stick your tongue out at him before writing another poem.

‘‘You have such a pretty mouth. To feed it only kisses would be a wasted opportunity.’ And another, ‘Words are powerful things. They can break hearts and make panties wet.’’

You descend to Hell just writing the sinful poems but it’s all worth it when Bucky closes the paper after a moment and tugs on his jeans. You giggle and look away, sipping your drink.

‘’Body framed with arms outstretched, wrists roped, and roughly bound. From tiny mouth, and pretty lips, you utter not a sound. I paint with words, a canvas stretched, laid bare, upon the ground.’ Another for you, Beautiful Poem Girl: ‘It was the end of the beginning, beneath tangled sheets, and sex blushing pink between your legs, open to the possibility of more to come, fingernails writing unfinished lines down my back, the scratches raw and incomplete, a river still running whispering my name, desire growing again and again - and again.’’

You lick your lips and look up at him through your lashes. He winks then looks down, fiddling his fingers nervously. Your nibble on your blueberry muffin, setting it down as you find the perfect poem in your mind.

‘’I never understood desire until I felt your hands around my throat.’’

He coughs a few times after choking on his drink, his eyes meeting yours. The sexual tension grows between the two of you until it’s palpable.

‘Jesus, Poem Girl. I didn’t think you’d be into such kinky shit.’

You grin.

‘Well, Poem Guy, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.’

He nods and writes something dow, taking quite a few minutes before sliding two pieces of paper to you, the first one an innocent little note that makes butterflies fill your stomach.

‘Well dear poem girl, I would love to know those things. And not just the frisky ones. The deep ones. Your favourite things, your dreams and ambitions. Your nightmares and worst fears.’

And then there’s the second piece of paper that sets your core ablaze.

‘’To slap you, is to touch you. Scream for mercy. Beg for more. To bite you, is to kiss you. Tied and tethered, on the floor. To loath you, is to love you. Pretty princess. Dirty Whore.’’

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply, then open them and write down probably the friskiest thing you’ve ever written or thought. And it’s one of your original poems.

‘’I long to feel you. All of you. Your hands between my legs, teasing my sweet warm flesh, your mouth replacing those hands after a few moments. Your name on my lips like a prayer and I’m chanting it over and over, trying to cleanse my sins as you only perform more with your face buried between my legs.’ I can’t really give credit to Michael Faudet because... this is one of my originals.’

His eyes widen as he reads what you wrote. Your heart beats uncomfortably fast in your chest as you wait for him to slide the note back with his reply. When he finally does - after what feels like hours-, it’s nothing like what you anticipate. While you expect disgust or perhaps some form of mockery, he writes the exact opposite.

‘You wrote that? Amazing. I too have some originals. They may be horrendous but you’re the first person besides myself to read any of them.’

Then slightly under that is probably one of the most erotic yet beautiful poems you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

‘’If I was able to have my way with you, I’d make you forget about all your insecurities. You’d finally see yourself as the siren you are. I’d worship away your worries. My lips would cover every mound, every dip, every single fold of your skin. Lingering on the soft, wet, always promising skin between your legs. And baby I’ll be so good to you. The way I work my tongue in you will make you forget about all the hurt you’ve ever felt. My hips rolling into yours will ease every ache -except the new, ever lovely one between your legs. My hands against your soft skin will wipe everything except pleasure out of your mind. The only thing you’ll remember is my loving gaze as my eyes flicker over your skin, memorizing everything. Especially the face you make when I bring you over the edge, bliss overwhelming you and the only thing that will ever matter, the only things that has ever mattered, is us.’’

You smile lightly at his stunning words, letting them bounce around in your head for a few moments before you write down a response.

‘That was... heated and incredibly passionate. An amazing piece. I’d love to read more of your works.’

He smiles as he reads the note a few moments after you slide it to him. He scrawls something down in his messy but aesthetically pleasing handwriting then slides the well-written on piece of paper back to you.

‘And I’d love to read more of yours. It would, of course, be easier to communicate through more than notes. So here, (***) ***-****. Text me. Or call. We could maybe make plans to hang out at some point. Share more of our poems.’

You smile up at him and nod. ‘I’d love that. Now, Poem Guy, I’ll leave you with my number before I go. (***) ***-****.’

You pack up and get up from the table, your hand brushing against Bucky’s shoulder before your leave. The small touch sends a jolt of electricity up your arm and you can’t help but smile at the sensation.

Poem Authors: Anonymous, Myself, Rupi Kaur, R.H. Sin, Michael Faudet.

TAGS:

Passing Notes Tags:

@didanyonesaybuckybarnes @lilypalmer1987 @slender--spirit

Forever Tags:

@inumorph

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danijimenezv · 7 years

Text

Who We Used to Be

Prompt/Summary: Based on “Two Ghosts” by Harry Styles

Pairings: Tony x female!reader

Warnings: angst, bittersweet moments, implied smut

Word Count: 2260

A/N: I wrote it for Bella’s Cool Times Summer Jamz Mix Writing Challenge ( @whothehellisbella ). This takes place at the end of Captain America: Civil War. I didn’t exactly include the lyrics of the song, but I did make sure that it fits the plot :)

It had been a while since he had thought about her. Until that Friday afternoon, Tony Stark actually hadn’t thought about her for years, not really.

Tony had been working at the New Avengers for days, trying to come up with something to help Rhodes. To say he was going out of his mind was an understatement, especially after the events with Steve and the Winter Soldier. That’s why he found himself wandering around Fire Island beach, after hours of driving. He didn’t even know why exactly he had ended up there, he had just driven mindlessly.

The sand underneath his feet and the calm environment of the beach helped him think, and he found himself mulling over everything that had been happening lately, not only with Steve and the rest of the Avengers, but also with Pepper. Tony and Pepper were giving each other some time, being Iron Man finally taking its toll on her. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice the person approaching him. It took him a few seconds to finally register the face that was in front of him.

She looked exactly how he remembered, even if it had been more than a decade since they last saw each other. Her hair flowed freely in the wind, giving off the vibe of freedom, and her eyes sparkled as she too recognized him. She was still as beautiful in his eyes as ever; the only difference being the small crinkles by her eyes, and the way they seemed to hold a new world of knowledge and experience. Tony’s heart picked up its pace as he continued to gawk at her, and both stood in absolute silence for some minutes, studying each other with their stares. Finally, the woman broke into a friendly smile.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here again, Stark.”

“Y/N.” he sighed, “It’s been a while.”

“Indeed.”

“How have you been? I haven’t heard much about you these past years.”

“Can’t say the same about you, Iron Man.” she pointed out, laughing softly, “I’ve heard plenty of you. Every time I turn around, there you are, in the news, in some paper, or in a kid’s costume.”

Tony smirked, “Don’t pretend you don’t love seeing me so much.”

“Guess you’ll never know.” her face was a mask, and Tony was unable to know if she really did or didn’t at all, “I’ve been relatively good.”

“Still working as a doctor?”

“Forensics, yeah.”

“Kinda CSI, huh?” Tony chuckled under his breath slightly, but squirmed uncomfortably as her steely gaze seemed to look right through him, bore into his very core. As their eyes locked, Tony felt a wave of feelings washing over him, teleporting him back to the day they had first met, back to when he was barely 18.

“How bad is it?” her voice brought him out of the flashback.

“Bad? No one said anything about-”

“You can lie to anyone else, Tony, but not to me.”

She was right. Tony was used to keeping everyone at a certain distance, but Y/N practically knew him from the very start, and they had been together for years. There was no way he could hide anything from her, no matter how much he tried or how long it had been. Y/N frowned, one of her hands reaching up to cup and caress his cheek, but she suddenly became aware of what she was doing and retreated her hand slowly.

“Sorry, I know it’s been a while. I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.”

Tony simply dismissed the situation with a nod. He was oddly silent, uncharacteristic of him. Y/N had never seen him like that, not in the eight years they were together. He was different from the Tony she once knew; he had seen and experienced far too many things for her to even start to comprehend what changed him. Still, that didn’t stop her from trying to reach out to him, to be there for him, not baring how in despair he looked.

“Come on, I’ll take you to get a drink. You seem like you need one.”

“I don’t want to be anywhere public.” he scratched the back of his neck.

“My place sounds fine for you?” she asked, and Tony could see the sincere concern in her shining eyes, something that, still after more than a decade, still disarmed him completely, “I’ve got booze and it’s not out in the public.”

“I’d be worried about your life decisions if it were.” he joked.

They drove for about half an hour, just two people joking and reminiscing about the past. No one would have suspected they hadn’t seen each other in years; probably because, deep down, they never stopped thinking about the other. Once in her house, they settled down fairly quickly, as if being together was an old routine they remembered well. Tony got out two glasses from one of the kitchen cabinets, while Y/N gathered a bottle of whiskey and a bucket of ice. For the following hours, all they did was exactly the same they did in the car, remember moments they lived together and the best of those years. Some memories were happy, some were sad, and some were absolutely ridiculous, but each and every one of them reminded him of a time where everything was much simpler than the problems he was now facing at the moment with the Avengers. Tony honestly couldn’t point out the exact moment he had last felt as carefree and on ease, nothing comparing to how she was making him feel in that moment.

“Come on, gulp it down. I dare you.” Tony smirked, making Y/N gasp in offense.

“You think I can’t hold my drink?”

“Sweetheart, this is the third glass of whiskey you’ve had in the past two hours. I think you can’t handle any more, much less in one gulp.”

“Watch me.” she did as she was dared, not looking unfazed in the slightest, which surprised him deeply, “See, Stark? I told you I could.”

“I just have one more question.”

“Which is?”

“How did you manage to get whiskey on your nose?”

A deep, scarlet color adorned her cheeks, but as Tony laughed at her expression, he leaned forward to clean it for her. That was the mistake, or maybe that was exactly what he needed to do. Before he could stop to think about it, he just let go of his inhibitions and followed his instinct. He crashed his lips against her in a matter of seconds, and he was relieved as she returned the gesture with as much fervor as him. The kiss was full of desperation, lust and unspoken promises, and it filled both of their veins with adrenaline. They continued kissing, their limbs ending up tangled together as their tongues messily danced together, their mouths practically clashing together as the two of them chased their own desires.

“Bedroom?” he asked in a strained voice, barely separating from her.

She panted heavily, “Down the hall, last door on the right.”

Tony woke up in the middle of the night, stretching a bit and feeling the other side of the bed cold and empty. He reached out for his discarded boxers and his pants and put them on, somehow knowing, or more like hoping, that Y/N was wearing his shirt, just like the old times. He wandered around the halls for a few minutes, before he heard soft humming coming from the kitchen, and made his way there. Easily enough, he found the woman, hunched slightly as she searched for something in the fridge.

“Want anything, Tony?” she asked casually, startling him, as she retrieved a bottle of water.

“I’m fine.” he brushed off and took a seat at the table.

“Suit yourself.” she shut the fridge door closed.

Even without the house lights or the white light from the refrigerator, the moon was intense enough to light them. The moonlight made her silhouette stand out even more, and Tony couldn’t help but admire her beauty. He wanted to say something, but what? He felt a huge lump in his throat and his tongue tied in an impossible knot, making him unable to even utter a single word. Still, even if he didn’t feel as physically incapable to talk as he was feeling right then, he didn’t know what to tell her. ‘Thanks for tonight, I’ve gotta go’? He couldn’t be a jerk to her, not after everything they had lived together. Tony yearned with all his heart it could be as simple as he used. He wished he could tell her he still loved her as much as he used to, and that they could be together again. A happy, fairy-tale ending. However, no matter how much Tony tried, the same thoughts about her fluttered around in his mind. Y/N was a throwback, a beautiful one at that, but still a throwback to a time when he was young, unburdened and definitely not scared of love and loss. She was all he had back then, and he would always love her. But the heart-shattering, ground-rumbling love he once felt for the woman in front of her, that was gone, turning her simply into a beautiful memory, meant for him to remember some of the best time of his life by her side.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Y/N interrupted his line of thoughts.

“I don’t think you do, sweetheart.” he chuckled, trying to hide the bitterness with his wit.

“You’re thinking the same thing I am.” she stated, and somehow, he knew she was telling the truth, “It’s not what you expected.”

“Y/N, I-”

“I’m under no pretense here, Tone.” she sat down in front of him, taking his calloused hands in her soft ones, “ I know last night was a one-time thing only. I know how it is. After all, everything has changed.”

“Why do I feel so broken, then?”

“Because, deep down, you and I both wanted it to be just how we remembered.”

“I thought you were the one for me all along.” Tony continued stubbornly, “Meeting again after some years wasn’t supposed to work like that.”

“Oh, Tony. My Tony.” Y/N chuckled, “Not everything is like in the movies, no matter how much we want it to be. Don’t think of us as a failure. Think of us as a beautiful experience. Now, you can put that small bother in the back of your mind to rest. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. We can finally leave it in peace, in the past, and move on to whatever life has in store for us.”

“I felt like I used you, and I definitely don’t want you to feel or even think that.” he shook his head vehemently.

“In a way, we used one other. We were both trying to relive the past, trying to feel again how that was like.” she shrugged, “Please, Tony, I knew the existence of this possibility, of things ending this way. I knew what I was getting into, so you don’t have to worry about me.”

“You were too important for me.” he kissed her forehead, “You still are. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.”

“Not your fault. We were young, just experiencing life.”

“Still, I shouldn’t have given up on us. What if-?”

“You and I...” she whispered, caressing his cheek lovingly as she stared softly at his warm brown eyes; the same eyes she had fallen in love with back all those years, and the same eyes she would always love no matter what, “You and I will always be unfinished business, just a torrent of ‘what if’s that never came to be. It’s too late now, but I don’t regret a thing. I love you, Tony.” she clarified, “Always have, and probably always will. You’ll always hold a special place in my heart… but I’m no longer in love with you. We’ve grown apart into two very different people, and we still have a lot to figure out on our own.”

“I’m sorry.” Tony held back a sob, “I’m sorry for what we could’ve been.”

“Me too.” she sighed sadly and, in a bold move, leaned towards him and placed her lips on his, in a last, cherishing kiss, “But do me a favor.”

“For you, anything.”

“Try to be happy once again.” she practically begged him, “That’s all I want for you. I don’t know how bad things are within the Avengers, but I’m asking you this because I care about you, Anthony Edward Stark, not Iron Man, not the infamous Tony Stark.”

“I never deserved you.” he let out a breathy laugh, standing up and pulling her to him as well, his strong arms snaking around her waist almost immediately, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“On the contrary, you always did.” she snuggled further in his embrace, trying to remember every little detail, from the way his arms held her tight with strength but still delicacy as if she was his whole world, to the way he smelled like the home she used to know, “That’s why I’m still here, and I’ll always be.”

“In my heart is a memory, and there you’ll always be.” he quoted, remembering one of her favorites, which, in turn, made her grin breath-takingly.

Their love story was over, but Tony Stark could brag he had the most epic and spectacular love story to ever tell with the one and only Y/N Y/L/N.

Tags: @whothehellisbella, @thinkwritexpress-official, @buckysberrie, @sebbytrash, @bovaria, @maybe-mikala, @a-little-hell-to-raise , @hunters-from-stark-tower

#bella's ctsjm #tony stark x reader #marvel fic #song challenge

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violecentstrs · 7 years

Text

Memories of Us - Chapter 15

A/N: Ayayayay! It’s been... 4 weeks since I last posted! I am so incredibly sorry for that. But as you may know, I have been quite busy with moving and unpacking, so I barely had the time to properly sit down and write. I actually still am in the process of unpacking, but, I made my time and write when I am free. Some of these were written in a hurry, so I sincerely apologize. But without further ado! Please enjoy this chapter! This series is coming to an end, so just a heads up! Thank you so much for reading!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warning(s): Death and angst Word Count: 3,746 Summary: Soldier Reader looks exactly like Linda, a woman Bucky used to love. Little by little, she uncovers his past with Linda and what had happened between them through her visions. As she does, her feelings for Bucky grew as well. But, one question remains: if Bucky returns her feelings, will it be for Reader or for Linda?

<< Previous Chapter ☀

★ ★ ★

• • •

“You’ve got everything you need?” I say weakly.

Charles loads up his truck with supplies and enough weapon to break through a small Nazi base. They needed to recapture that particular town in order to advance forward. I hug my coat close to my body as I watch him tighten the ropes around the bundles of blanket.

“Yeah. We’ll be back in two or three weeks.” He says while dusting his hands off. Even his voice sounds weak. For some reason, my heart is racing. I was worried about him of course. Going off into enemy base and trying to fight their way through a blockade. Who knows how successful they will be.

But my heart was racing with such an uneasy feeling.

“Linda…” He calls out to me.

“Yes?” He stays silent for a few moments before pulling out a letter. He hands it over to me with a warm smile.

“In case anything happens, can you pass this to Carolina Muller ? She lives in the previous town.” I look down at his hand and the letter. It was pink with a handmade heart wax seal on it. I can feel the tears well up in my eyes. I blink them away before looking up at him.

“No. You will give it to her yourself when you come back.” I say confidently. He replies back with a smile before tucking the letter back in his suit pocket.

“You’re right. I suppose I should give it to her myself.” He says. He scans over at the camp, watching the two other trucks and tanks loaded and ready to go. After he lets out a small sigh, he pulls me into a tight hug.

I gasp from the suddenness before returning it just as tightly.

“Come back safely, all right?” I whisper into his neck. He only replied with his arms tightening further around me. After a few seconds, we let go of each other. The warmth lingering between us.

“Thank you, for everything, Linda.” He brushes his hand through my hair once before planting a kiss on my forehead. Those words sounded awfully like last ones. I wanted to reply but the driver called him up.

He climbs up into the truck next to the driver and closes the door behind. I watch his expression swirl from happiness to sadness almost immediately. I watch as the truck comes to life, followed by the others and make their way down the road.

I had many regrets in my life. But one of the biggest ones… was not taking that very letter.

Unspoken sadness wraps around within my chest. I drop the tray of tea and biscuit I had brought in for my father. The pot and cups shattered upon contact and hot tea was soaking right into the wooden floor. It startled Steve, Bucky and my father. He shoots me an angered look.

“My God! You’re so careless, Linda! Clean that up!”

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I was frozen in fear and grief.

“Linda, are you all right?” Steve asks worriedly as he stands up. Even Bucky was about to run over towards me.

“Mind her not, Captain, Sergeant. Let’s get back to our discussion.”

Steve stays still before nodding and sits back down. Bucky hesitates for a moment, keeping his eyes on me while sitting back down. He tosses worried glances over at me every now and then.

“LINDA!” My father shouts at me. It startled me. I look at him, but I couldn’t see him properly. My eyes were blurry. Steve’s and Bucky’s expression turns into pure horror at the sight.

“What are you crying for, child?! It’s not like you’re not used to seeing papers of dead soldiers! Clean that up and get back to work!” My heartless father orders me. I complied absentmindedly. I clean up the mess, unconsciously gripping onto the broken shards. It sliced through my hands, but I couldn’t feel the pain.

It wasn’t as strong as the one in my chest right now.

“Oh for the love of! Linda! What are you doing, child??” My father stands up. I couldn’t even process anything he said. I look down at my bloody hands. The pain now slowly seeping through my body after seeing the blood trickling down to the floor.

“I’ll take her to the infirmary.” Bucky says urgently as he rushes over to me. There were small pieces of glass lodged in between the wounds. When he stands up, he glances over at my table. When he saw it, he knew what had happened.

I couldn’t think for myself. My mind was blank, my heart was hollow and my body was weak. I feel faint and weak. Bucky had to hold me tightly against him to keep me from falling.

The image of what I had just seen flashes through my mind again.

CHARLES JUSTIN MCDARROW: KILLED IN ACTION

When we got to the infirmary, Bucky had the nurse treat my wound. The tears were pouring, but I wasn’t making any noise. And Bucky’s arms were always around me, holding me tightly.

“Linda…” He says. I know he called me, but I couldn’t respond. I was lost in my own mind. His hand brushes through my hair. He looks over at the nurse.

“Can you give us a minute?” She nods understandably and walks out of the tent.

“Linda, listen to me…” Bucky calls out with a soft voice.

I was yet again able to move or make a sound at all. Bucky’s gentle hands continue to hold me. He was attempting to keep me warm. But I honestly couldn’t feel it. My body is cold. My insides are cold. My heart, is cold.

“He was a good kid. He died for the country he loved. He’s truly a soldier of honour.” I stare blankly in front of me.

Bucky moves my face so I would look at him. But all he saw was emptiness in them. It sent shivers and fear around his body. He has never seen me like this, and it scared him.

“Linda… please…” He says while holding me tightly in his arms. I lay limp against him like a rag doll. I was incapable to feel anything. I don’t know how to after that.

“Please… come back. Don’t do this to me. Linda...” What he said somehow got into me. I slowly look over at him. His body is shivering against mine.

My chest tightens and my stomach twists. The sadness is now filling up that void within my chest. Almost immediately I started to bawl. Bucky buries my face into his chest, holding me tightly. I cry and scream into his chest.

I grip tightly onto his shirt, soaking it with my tears, snot and drool. I couldn’t control myself. I cry out painfully into his chest all the while he was holding me. He rocked me back and forth while I was bawling.

The one person who had taught me what love from a family felt like is now gone. Gone just like that. And on top of that, regret. Regret of not accepting that letter. Regret of not being able to fulfil his last wish.

It made the grief within my chest grow even more. My grip on Bucky had caused for the bandages on my hands to be completely soaked in my own blood.

I didn’t know how long it lasted. All I knew was the never ending tears and screaming followed by the immense aching pain in my chest. I was exhausted and fell right asleep after it all.

That night Bucky never left my side. He kept holding me tightly in his arms. I can tell that he was scared to see me like this.

I didn’t know this at the time, but he was talking to Steve about it. He saw the void in my eyes and got terrified. He said that he was afraid to let me go. Afraid that if he does, I would slip away into an abyss.

Afraid that if he leaves me alone, I would disappear from him forever.

• • •

“Catching your breath, Y/N?” Tony asks while stretching out. In one of his hands is a glass of brandy. I smile and nod.

“I’m not always one for parties.” I admit to him. He scoffs and takes a sip of it.

“Welp, it doesn’t hurt to just relax every now and then. Tell me, how well do Cap, Barnes and Romanoff teach you?” His tone was curiosity laced with sarcasm. He just likes to make fun of other people, huh?

“Very well. My performance has improved greatly.” I say, keeping my eyes peering over the distance.

“Hmm. See, that’s the thing. You should just learn how to build and operate machines because they are the best at doing the works. I can help you, but you have to pay me. How many guys have you been with?” He says. My body shivers at his question. I can tell he is drunk now. I sigh out and look at him.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark. Your offer is generous, but I am doing fine as of now.”

“Hm. Fine fine. Don’t answer the question then. I was just curious.”

“Stark.” I hear Bucky’s voice call out from behind us. I look over at him, relieved.

“What’s up, Barnes?” He asks. His elbow slips, spilling a bit of his brandy before he balances himself again.

“Wilson is trying out one of your suits.”

“That’s impossible. They’re all locked away.” He answers and finishes his drink. Bucky approaches him closer and clears his throat. As a warning.

“Better go check, or someone will end up getting hurt.” Bucky says a little more stern now. Clearly that last bit was more for Tony than anyone else. Tony chuckles and holds his hands up.

“All right, goldfish. I’m going.” He says and heads back inside. I rest my head against my arms.

“You all right?” He asks while placing a hand on my shoulder. His hand feels warm against it. It felt nice.

“How is he an Avenger if he acts like that?” I ask. Bucky chuckles before shrugging.

“Tony is egoistic and flirtatious. It just doubles over when he is drunk. So just be careful around him at all times.” His hand moves up to my hair to stroke it. My heart beats within my chest at his touch.

I laid in bed all of last night, thinking of what I did. Sure, Bucky and I have been having intimate moments, but I was more than determined to stop them because of my visions. Though, now I’m not so sure. After what Emily had said, I felt like I can’t help but want to be close to Bucky again. Maybe this was my first step to help find some kind of closure for both Bucky and Linda.

“Yeah, well, despite it all, he is a pure genius. Borderline a maniac too.” I say sarcastically. But I kept a bit of truth in that tone as well. Bucky chuckles as he twirls his finger with the ends of my hair.

“Though, I do have the same question.” He says. His hand never letting go of my hair. I look over at him.

“How many guys have you been with?” I blush at his question. It sounded awfully weird coming from Tony. So to have Bucky ask me that makes my own feelings clash. I press the bottle of water to my lips, looking away in the distance.

“If you don’t want to answer, I can respect that.”

He’s right. I really don’t. Out of irritation or embarrassment, I don’t quite know.

“You don’t find anyone interesting at all?” He asks again while retreating his hand back. I whimpered inside. His touch was warm and soothing. So I started to miss that feeling when he stopped.

“Of course I find a lot of people interesting…” I answer truthfully.

“I just don’t know if it is the right time.” I continue while never glancing over at him.

“Well, maybe you’ll find someone while you’re working.” He smiles.

The railing clinks underneath his metal hand. It caught my attention. I watch the way the light glimmers on that hand. Then my eyes drift up to him. From his shiny metal hand up to the muscles, then to his neck right before up to his face. His hair neatly combed and emits a soft dark glow.

He’s wearing a dark maroon shirt with black sweatpants, containing away all of those muscles within. His metal arm gleams underneath the moonlight.

His skin seems to glow within the dark. As though there is a soft light around him. I blush at the sight. A memory passes through my mind. The same one I had before. A night under the tree.

“What is it?” He asks, catching me staring at him. I turn my head away.

“Nothing. Maybe I’ll find someone.” My heart beats fast.

My tone was straightforward, but I was lying to myself. I do like Bucky. I will not deny that. But the only thing stopping me is, if the feelings I have for Bucky truly belonged to me. The visions and dreams are mixing my own feelings around.

As a soldier, I see Bucky as nothing more than a super soldier who taught me how to shoot. But as a woman, I see him as a man who’s been through a lot yet manages to muster up the strength and will to fight for what is right. I admire him for it. And sometimes, that admiration felt more than just that.

“How do you imagine him to be like?” His voice distracts me from my thoughts. My heart beat grows faster. Why is he asking me this? It’s slowly making me restless. I was nervous. I don’t want to give away any hint to him that I may like him.

I tap the bottle of water against the railing slightly.

“I don’t mind. So long he cares for me sincerely, that’s all.” I answer quickly. It was silent for a few moments.

“You really don’t see yourself with anyone currently?” He asks. I chuckle nervously. The image of me and Bucky together in the park crosses my mind. With me holding onto his arm as we laugh at a comment I made about the old man dressed in a green scuba-diving outfit while swimming in the small lake.

I blink the thought away immediately, feeling so embarrassed at it. Yet it does hurt me to feel that way about that beautiful image. Because in reality, I’m just a soldier who looked like Bucky’s ex-lover. What if that image I saw in my head had actually belonged to Linda and not me? My head swirls around.

“I’m a soldier trying to fight for the position of a Commander so I can help end the fights before they start. I hardly have time to find love if anything.” I finish the drink slowly. Bucky chuckles. I glance over at him.

“I was a soldier, or am a soldier too, you know?” He says quietly. I raise an eyebrow.

“I suppose we both have different views in the matters of love and when to find it.” I say before looking up at the sky.

“I suppose so.” He trails off. I look over at him.

He is busy staring down at the streets. I don’t know how to have a conversation with him without my mind being clouded by the visions and dreams. Imagining him in his prime days. How handsome, strong and clever he is. How he looked like when I was underneath him.

It just makes me feel odd since those memories didn’t belong to me. They gave me a glimpse of what it would be like to be with Bucky. I wonder if I would have even met him if he hadn’t fell off that train. I wonder, if he hadn’t been taken over by HYDRA, would he and Linda have had a family of their own?

My chest aches terribly. The very own thought made my heart swell with sadness and jealousy. Knowing well enough where that particular sadness comes from. I close my eyes, feeling tears welling up in my eyes. I take a deep breath to clear my mind out while blinking the tears away several times.

“I can feel your thinking fumes.” He says while looking at me. I blink again before shaking my head.

“It’s nothing.” I lie while toying with the bottle cap.

“Talk to me.” He insists, moving closer to me. I swallow a small lump in my throat. Should I tell him what I told Natasha and Steve? About these visions and dreams? I hesitate for a moment, keeping my eyes away from him. My legs and arms felt like they are going numb. Am I that nervous?

“I was wondering…” I trail off, twirling the bottle around between my fingers. His eyes felt intense on me. I swallow again. Just tell him. Tell him about how Linda has been intruding in my life by sending me visions of their pasts together during random moments of the day. My body grows completely numb. I can’t feel anything from my body at all.

“I was just wondering what life would have been like if you and I had built a family together.”

…wait. What?

No. No. No. That’s not what I wanted to say at all. No no!

“Just imagine life in a cabin out in the woods somewhere. Away from the war. Away from SHIELD. Away from HYDRA. Away from danger. Away from, my father.”

I freeze.

It… wasn’t me. I didn’t say any of those things. I can’t even control my own body. What is going on??

I feel my head move towards Bucky. I can clearly see the horror in his eyes. As though his life was flashing before his eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like that, Bucky?” My hand moves to hold his. I can feel how much his hand is shaking. But I couldn’t pull my hand away or do anything. It feels as though I’m in a movie theatre, watching a scene unfolding before me. And I couldn’t do or say anything to change it.

“Linda…?” Bucky utters the single word.

My heart drops. I suddenly felt my head spin uncontrollably. As though I was in a merry go round ride at the speed of a race car. I felt like my body was being torn apart pieces by pieces from how intense it felt.

All of the sudden, I can feel my whole body again. My hand was still holding onto Bucky’s. And his pure horrified expression never changed. I immediately pull my hand away, overwhelmed by confusion and fear.

I stumbled back, tipping my upper body over the balcony rails. Bucky quickly catches me and pulls me close to him. I drop my water bottle and we watch as the bottle drops fast down from the tower.

It lands right on the pavement, probably torn itself apart, and luckily no one was there. The bottle made an awful echo back up to my ears, and I felt my heart race quickly at it. Bucky’s racing heart beats against my chest when I turn to look back. His arms gripping around my waist tightly and my face inches away from his.

I instantly remember what just happened when I saw the growing fear in his eyes. I pull myself away from him carefully while holding my throbbing head.

“Y/N…?” Bucky calls out, worried. He places his hands on my shoulders, but I jerked them away automatically. I look over at him, hugging my own shivering body tightly.

I was confused, scared and weirded out by what just happened. It felt like my soul left my body for a minute and I was someone else. It didn’t feel normal. I remembered it all. Seeing how my own body moved and my voice spoke, yet I wasn’t the one in control of them.

I look at my shaking hands. They didn’t feel like my own hands anymore.

“I… I have to go.” I say urgently before running back inside the room. Without looking or saying anything to anyone, I take my coat, slip it on and rush into the elevator.

“Y/N! You’re leaving already??” Steve shouts from the sofas. I give him a quick look just as the door closes. His expression drops just before he turns back towards Bucky, who is standing by the door of the balcony.

When the elevator door closes, I saw my own reflection against the metal doors. I stare at it, but I can feel my eyes growing blurry the longer I do. I pull my hoodie over my head and look down at the marble floor.

No use. I can still see my own reflection.

I close my eyes and wait for the elevator to reach down. But seconds felt like hours. When it finally opened, I rush out of the main entrance. I take in a few deep breaths of fresh air, trying to comprehend what is going on within me.

I look around the streets and up the tower at where Bucky and I just stood minutes ago. And it reminded me of how terrifying that out of body experience I just had then. I close my eyes, trying to hold back the tears from coming.

I don’t know what’s going on. My body just acted on its own. And according to how Bucky reacted, I must’ve said something Linda did back then. I widen my eyes when I realized it.

What if… Linda had just momentarily took over my body?

I shut my thoughts out before turning around to make my way back home. It is a long way back, but I needed to be alone. I needed to sort my mind out.

I felt something scrunch underneath my boot. I lift it up to see that it was the exact same bottle that I had accidentally dropped. My heart aches at the sight.

The cap was broken, but the body was still intact. Only it had been crumpled up because I stepped on it. And that, was too real for me. I quicken my pace, matching it to the running thoughts in my head.

Because just like that broken bottle, my own head, has been shattered up.

★ ★ ★

☀ Next Chapter >>

A/N: Ohhhh. Getting intense! Don’t forget to leave a like, or a comment! I would appreciate it if I could hear your thoughts and comment on this chapter/story!

Thank you so much for reading and much love! <3

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