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lfnr-blog-blog-blog · 3 years

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Snövit

Pairing | Bucky x disabled reader (College AU) They/Them Pronouns. Non descriptive.

Warnings | Heavy and frequent medical conversations, explanations, and procedures. Chronically ill reader. John Walker, Brock Rumlow (they are a warning okay. I hate them) Angst, Fluff, some curse words, fluff. Protective Misguided Bucky. Reader is an ambulatory wheelchair user. Needles, Seizures, mentions of vomiting/puking.

Summary | You are just trying to live your life, and your wicked stepfather wants you gone.

Word Count| ~7K

A/N | This fic was inspired by the Fairy Tale of Snow White, however it is ambiguous. Some information you may need: A port-a-cath ("Port") is a type of central line, most famously known in cancer patients, it is "accessed" by placing a needle in the little hub. The walker reader uses is a Walker/Rollator, it has wheels and a little seat, making it more user friendly for people who cannot stand for long periods of time. Please reach out if you have any questions, I would be more than happy to answer them anytime. Thank you to my betas: @buckayyyebitches and @offcast-plus1. And everyone who helped bounce ideas and keep me on track. Readers nickname is Flame as that is what they call their Radio DJ Persona.

“The homework is due Monday.” Dr. Pierce finishes up as you snap your notebook shut, you grab your bag from the back of your chair, rushing to pack up for the basketball game you’ll be working tonight, when you hear your name. You turn around to see your step father behind you, “Yes Alexander?” He throws your most recent essay in your lap, “71 percent, 71 measly percent. Your mother has entrusted me to make sure that you make it through this degree, even with all of your *issues* and you cannot even get more than a ‘C’ on a paper for Political Science.” You go to defend yourself when Steve pipes up from across the room, “Come on Flame, we gotta go. Call is in twenty, and you know how Stark and Potts get if we are late.” Grabbing the push bars on your wheelchair you follow Steve out of the room, heading across campus to the college television station.

Brock re-enters the room after Rogers and Barnes exit with Flame. Joining Pierce at his desk, “Well what are we going to do about that?” Brock asks, motioning towards the trio moving across campus in the windows. “I am not sure, Rumlow, but I am sure that Rogers is protecting them from me.” Pierce slides an envelope across the desk, Rumlow picking it up, hearing the rattling of the contents. “It needs to be done soon. They are amassing too much, too much status, too much money, too much protection, Stark and Potts are petitioning against me with the Dean. I need them gone, and that is your job here.”

Bucky steps ahead of you and Steve, “Pierces’ lecture today sucked, huh Stevie?” Buck says, turning around to look at you. “Well Flame, when can we expect the next paper to be due since you know everything?” “Buck! Fuck if I know, you and I both know that he wouldn’t give me a leg up even if I was in the ICU in a coma.” You tease, passing the admin building. “Now move or get run over, you know the drill.” Activating the power assist on your chair, needing it for the slight uphill slope from the admin building to the student center where the cafeteria, gym, and broadcasting compound are housed. Steve catches the door for you. “We still have about 15 minutes until call, do you want to grab some lunch really quick? Today is going to be a long day behind the boards.” You nod, heading towards the cafeteria.

“Eeyyyyy, Flame, they have your favorite soup.” Bucky calls out across the room, while you scour the salad bar looking for something that actually sounds good with your nausea. “Yasssss,” you call out heading over to where they have the soup, making yourself a to-go bowl, grabbing a protein shake, and a sports drink. Between the soup, the drinks, and the IV fluids in your Port-a-cath today should be a good day. “So Steve, who do you think Pepper will have direct today- me or you? Everyone else is first years’, and it is championship weekend.” Steve thinks for a moment, “I am sure we will both have a chance. We have two games tonight, four games tomorrow, and the final game on Sunday afternoon, and we are the only two cleared for game directing. Besides, Stark will have Rhodey or Nate in the Control Studio all weekend, so I am sure that if you need a break you can get it. You know your accommodations mean you don’t need to be in the control room for every game.” You nod along, as he picks up his food, Bucky is behind him, everyone heading for checkout. After checking out you move out of the way, when Bucky grabs your drinks from your hand, zipping them in your bag in one fell swoop, Steve grabbing your soup and putting it on his to-go container. “Both of you knock it off, my hands work. I can put stuff away on my own.” You jibe at the pains’ in your ass. “But why would we let you do that when we can do it and make you all flustered.” Bucky teases back. “I’m gonna toss a freezer meal in that silly crockpot you bought Flame, you guys will want a home cooked meal. Brock and a few of the other guys from Criminal Law are coming over, so we can get ready for the test next week. But I am kicking them out, when you guys get home. Wanda and Nat are having a med study group in the basement and will be done at 9. Oh Doll, don't forget you need to get a home nurse out to do your weekly assessment tomorrow morning, before you leave for the games.” You roll your eyes, he is such a mother hen. “Yes Buck, I know. I already called Melyssa. She will be out at 8, so Stevie and I can leave for first call at 9.” You start rolling away before he can start worrying about how much time you are spending working this weekend, headed to the first of many games you’ll be working.

“Looks like you are up first, Flame.'' Steve says looking at the call sheet, seeing what first years have been assigned to us for today. The two of you being the only upperclassmen in the program, after 90 percent of the program failed out in your second year, all because of a drug test. Pepper and Tony have strict rules for the students who represent them in the community, one of them being a zero tolerance policy for drug use. The first years being the only reason that we can even run games and other station events. You eat your soup quickly and then, clean your hands to administer your afternoon nausea and routine medications through your IV; in your small office-like space that Pepper had set up for you when you first needed accommodations, taking an under used recording studio, adding a couch, desk, fridge, microwave, and station, where you could store foods, and supplies. Steve laying out on the couch, eating his burger and fries, “Steve if you get fry sauce on my couch I will murder you after this weekend is over!'' You warn in jest, you and all your friends hang out in this room when you are in this building, allowing you the space to stretch out, get out of your wheelchair in a controlled environment, do homework in quiet and have a safe and sterile station to take care of any medical needs. He laughs at your statement. “You know I would never spill in here. Pepper would kill me and take away my access pass. Hey out of curiosity, what did you get on your Poly Sci essay?” “A 71, he seemed pissed, I am going to look at it and see the justification. What did you get?” You respond, cracking open your drink. “I got a 92. What is his issue? You literally worked your ass off on that essay, you had more research than me or Buck, and it was well within the word limit. Why does your stepfather hate you?” Chuckling, you retorted. “You know why he hates me Cap,” teasing at his on-air persona, “I am my mothers child, and he only married her for the money. The only reason I decided to go to school here is this Journalism program, otherwise I would have gotten the hell outta dodge, my mom doesn’t care if I go here or not, it is well under the budget that I’ve been allotted for schooling. And he is the only one who teaches Poly Sci, so it’s not like I can just drop the class and get a different professor next semester, and we have to have it to graduate, so I will take the C, we all know I am pulling straight A’s in my other classes.” He nods, the alarm on your phone going off, warning you that it is time to meet the rest of the crew and go over your expectations for this game. You join the crew in the call room, not noticing Steve checking his phone - a text from Bucky.

Buck-I am going to surprise them with flowers tonight, if they need to leave early let me know.- Steve-wait what?!?!? Pierce said months ago, that anyone being with Flame, and they would be cut off by their mom.-

Buck- well about that, Flames’ mom was at the tower just now dropping off some paperwork and asked about why Flame never talks about me, especially after everything with them getting diagnosed and all the shit that is happening now. And I told her what Pierce said, and get this- Flame was never in danger of being cut off.-

Steve -fucking asshole Pierce, making you stay away.Something about that smells fishy, he doesnt even like Flame. you heard him today right? -

Buck- yea. I did. also said that Pierce has been trying to get Flame to go out with Brock-

Steve- Fuck, keep him away from their room. I don’t like that. Brock is the campus asshole. Good luck. Flame will love it. I know they miss you.-

Finishing up assigning cameras, graphics, and studio support to the first years before you call out to Steve. “Alright, if you have any issues shoot a text to Cap here. He will be around to jump in as needed. Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark will be looking in on us today too, so let’s show them we deserve to be here. Game starts in 45, so go get set up.” You finish your speech, heading to the control studio with Steve and the crew needed for that room. The camera crews grab their gear and head to the Gym. Your phone buzzes, checking the messages. A few from your mom, but checking the one from Bucky.

Bucky-hey, if you need, let me know and I can come get you early if the second game is too much ☺️- Rolling your eyes at the text you fire back.

Flame- yes mother 🙄😉😂💕

A subtle hint that you know what you are doing, this is your 3rd semester of dealing with your health issues, and you have a pretty good system down. Christmas break of your freshman year, a virus that wouldn’t quit, your body becoming overtaxed and sending you into Autonomic Nervous System failure, a whole host of problems joining the group. You never knew that you had some underlying conditions prior to the virus that sent your whole body haywire, making the nervous system failure so easily attainable. Bucky never left your side all those months of trying to figure out why you were passing out 16 times a day and now, it seems like he can’t even look at you, apparently the wheelchair, daily IV Fluids, home nursing, and a short ticking clock of life, are making you unappealing, undateable. It took nearly a year to get all the diagnoses’ and then a few months later Bucky backed off, everything settling in. And now, 3 months later he only says something if he doesn’t hear Steve or Nat ask about it or talking about shallow things. Meals, classwork, and chores at the tower. Getting comfortable in the control studio, you put your phone away. Prepping for how the rest of the night is going to be, Nate as your technical director, you calling out the shots and him putting them up. “Alright folks, let’s do this. Ready camera 1.” a small pause “Take 1, lets get those score graphics up, take Graphics.” The rest of the game continues, you getting into the zone, proving why you are the best student director in the program. “Ready 3….. Take 3. Walker, I need you to focus, something is going on with your camera.” Your team wins 3 points ahead of the competition, sending you to the next round. “Ready logo, Take logo. Good job folks, you’ve got 45 minutes to eat and be in your assigned positions for the next game. Walker, come see me.”

You roll back from your spot at the desk, stretching your neck and popping your fingers, head pounding under the lights, nausea flaring. The studio empties as Walker comes in. “Hey John, what is going on? You were all over the place. You never do that when Cap is directing.” Walker rubs his hand down his face. “Ya know Flame, I am not quite sure that you are one to talk,” motioning to your chair, “you missed a few games this season.'' You stand, not willing to take this sitting down. “John, everyone has off days, but you were disrespecting me on the headsets, you cannot do that. Don’t let it happen again or I will be talking to Potts, and if you insinuate what I think you are saying again, I will go to the Dean and have you suspended up for discrimation.” John slams his hand to your chest, pushing you back in the chair, kicking your bag with the IV pump and supplies. “You will not be talking to anyone. I am more talented than you and I will not be taking orders from a worthless lump!” Walker storms out of the studio, knocking shoulders with Steve on his way out. Wiping the tears out of your eyes, Steve asks. “What is up with John, he seems a bit off today.” You shake your head, “I am not sure Steve, we can talk about it after this weekend is over. Wanna go get a drink?” Steve nods and you head to the cafe, making small talk about the game and the ones to follow. “What did you think Stevie? Did I do okay?” Your chest starts to ache, slowing down a little as the pain gets more aggressive by the second.

“That was really good Flame. I sat with Tony and Pepper for a little bit, and they were impressed. How are you feeling, how's your heart rate?” You continue down the hall vision going a little fuzzy. “Honestly Steve, I am pretty beat, but we still have another.” Your IV pump in your bag blaring, interrupting your sentence. An excuse to stick around and help through Steve’s game, even if just with tech support or chilling with Pepper, helping with tips for future games. You roll to the side of the hall, checking your port-a-cath in your chest, seeing the line filled with blood. Heart racing, black spots joining your fuzzy eyes. “Steve, help!” You murmur, attempting to grab the backpack off the back of your wheelchair. He brings the bag around to you, kneeling in front of you and placing a hand on your knee to ground you to him. The blaring of your IV pump stops as you stop the infusion, no pressure in the bag, as you notice the IV fluids leaking through a hole in the bag. Your head spinning, watch going off, warning your heart rate is going extremely wrong, your vision cuts to black as you pass out. Steve catches you as you lean forward, nearly coming out of your wheelchair. He puts your backpack back on the wheelchair, grabbing the emergency strap and hooking it around your chest so he can move you back to your safe room, ;pulling his phone out and calling Bucky. “Hey punk, what’s up, how’d the first game go?” Bucky says as he picks up. “Buck you gotta come get Flame. Bring Nat or Wanda.” Steve rushes out then hangs up the phone. Opening the door to your day room, moving you as gently as possible to the couch so you can stabilize. Bucky rushes down to the basement living room in the Tower, entirely forgetting his study group, bursting through the door. “Nat, Wanda, something is wrong with Flame, we gotta go get ‘em.” Both of the women excuse themselves, everyone on this campus knows you, hosting the most popular radio show, being the campus mom most of the time, no one ever complains if you need help. Bucky grabs the spare keys to your mobility SUV, he will drive it back and Steve will take the truck back after the games are over. The five minute ride from the Tower to the Student center parking lot is the longest five minutes in recent memory for him. Steve is struggling to get you to wake up just as Bucky sprints in the door, Nat and Wanda closely behind him. Nat takes charge, checking all of the equipment and your vitals. You wake up after a few minutes, all of them watching you breathe. “Hey guys, sorry about that. I think I just got some negative pressure, and it just messed with my nervous system. I am good to go back to the control studio as soon as I get unhooked and get the bag figured out.” You go to sit up and Nat stops you. “You’ll be going back to the tower with Bucky, Wanda and me. You need to stay in bed for a while.” Bucky and Wanda nodding behind her.

“That is unless you want me to call Melyssa and get her out tonight, and no more work for the rest of the weekend!” Bucky pipes up, forcing a groan out of you. “You know I have no problems going straight to Potts to get you to use your accommodation. Doll, you have to rest! The doctor told you about that - you can’t overdo it.” You grumble out: “Fine! Take me back to the tower.”

Brock watches Bucky leave, excusing himself to use the bathroom. Sneaking into the room with the little flames all over it, Flame written in big bold letters. Sneaking around the room, adding small cameras to watch the room, adding other cameras to the rest of the house. Making a mental map of all the exits, and the overall layout of the tower.

Bucky lifts you from the couch and into your wheelchair, helping you get buckled in, arranging everything around you. You barely have the energy to lift your head, let alone fight him on letting you do it yourself. “Come on, Doll. Let's go home.” Wheeling you out to the SUV, and taking you home. Checking your smart watch, noticing your heart rate is through the roof again, 160 and rising, your autonomic nervous system failure going into a flare. Groaning to yourself, you know that this weekend will not be spent working games, it will likely end in a trip to the Emergency Room or a hospital admission, or if you are really lucky, just spent miserable in bed. Bucky pulls up to your home, The Tower, a 5 story townhome bought by your mom when your college housing no longer worked. It is fully accessible, giving you the luxury of having a home while also having your friends close and being near campus. Nat and Wanda were the first two to move in, both bringing their boyfriends - Clint and Vision, and then Steve and Bucky joined you . Getting everything unloaded from the car and heading straight for the elevator, going to your room to get into bed. Rolling in the door to your room, a gasp escapes your lips, a huge bouquet of your favorite flowers sitting on your desk, along with a basket of safe to eat snacks, and a new blanket. Pulling the note out of the basket, “Doll, turn around.” Bucky says, and you turn, facing him. “I like you Doll. I know some things happened that I am not proud of, but I want to be in your life as more than just a roommate, or the weird friend of your partner for class. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine.” Tears welling in your eyes, you pull yourself into his arms, letting him hold you up. “Bucky, I want to be yours, but we have some things we need to talk about. You just up and ignored me for months, I thought we were going somewhere.” He nods, letting you know he hears you. “Your stepfather told me that if you started dating anyone, your mom would cut you off. You would lose everything, the tower, your schooling, healthcare. I couldn’t do that to you, but it was not true.” Your head starts spinning, standing for too long, your heart racing. “Um Buck. I need to sit.” Your legs buckling out from under you, Bucky catches you, moving you over to the bed to sit down. You quickly set to work on getting yourself ready for bed, fixing a new bag of IV fluids on the IV pole, pushing your medications, setting an alarm for 7:30 when the nurse is supposed to come in. Kicking Bucky out, you change and then set up your bed for the night, hooking up the bag of IV fluids and then let him back in once you get settled. “Bucky, do you wanna watch a movie with me?” You offered, patting the bed next to you and turning on an old favorite while falling asleep hand in hand.

You wake up to Steve shaking Bucky awake. “Yes Steve?” You ask rolling over to face him. “Hey Flame, it's almost time for the nurse to be here. Did you want to get up, or do you just want me to send her in here?” Sitting the bed up slowly, head spinning. “Can you send her in here? And let Pepper know I’ll be using my accomodation for the first game. I am going to try and get to the second game.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, Flame. I want you to ask the nurse if she thinks that is a good idea, and Bucky is going to stay with you and make sure you don’t try and weasel your way out of it.” Bucky rolls over again, looking at Steve. “I got this punk, go eat or whatever it is you do at this ungodly hour.” The clock shows quarter to 8, giving you fifteen minutes until the nurse arrives. Nausea hits you more and more every minute. “Hey Buck?” You ask after a few minutes. “Can you go grab me a bottle of water and some crackers from the kitchen?” Kicking him out of the room so you can puke in peace, heading to your ensuite, taking care of your stomach and then, splashing some water on your face. “Hey Doll, I am back, are you okay?” He calls out next to the door. “The nurse is here, just come out when you are ready, okay?” You can hear the nurse grabbing supplies from your medical closet, knowing she is laying them out on the bedside table, getting ready to put a new needle in your port, draw labs, and get you all set up for the week ahead. Heading out of the bathroom, you see Bucky, watching every move the nurse makes. “Hey Melyssa.” You nod, head continuing to spin, slowly working your way over to the bed to lay back down. “Hey Flame. Steve and Bucky caught me up downstairs about last night. Let’s see how you are looking, okay?” She works quickly, getting your blood pressure (not great), heart rate (extremely high), and temperature (luckily normal). She cleans your skin and gets everything sterile ready to poke your skin. After getting all of the labs pulled and starts a bag of fluids to free flow while she does some paperwork; you lay back down trying to keep yourself from passing out. “Hey Melyssa do you think I could go work the rest of the games this weekend?” You ask, feeling guilty for leaving Steve on the busiest weekend of the semester. “No, I really don’t think that is a great idea. You are struggling not to pass out just sitting up, your chest is bruised and I have no clue how that happened,” Bucky growls at that. “And I would like to see what your labs look like so I can get a hold of your doctor. Right now you are running the risk of sepsis from the bag issue yesterday. So no you may not go to work the rest of the games. You need to stay in bed, rest, hydrate, and take your rescue medications. I will be in again tomorrow to check on you.” She gathers her bag and leaves the room, Bucky following her out. You pull your phone out, sending mass texts out to everyone about what she said, and send Steve and Pepper an apology, excusing yourself from the games today, hoping and praying that you will make it to Sunday’s final game. Stealing Bucky’s sweatshirt from the nightstand, putting it on and curling into it more and more. Bucky comes back in, holding a sports drink and his backpack. “Hey Doll, you look cute in my hoodies. I brought you something to drink and got some more instructions from the nurse. Lets keep you out of the ER this weekend okay?” You nod, cracking open the drink and nesting into your bed, adjusting it to sit up a little bit to watch tv. “Did you want to sit with me or sit at the desk to work on your homework Buck?” He comes over to the bed, kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll work at the desk, you get some rest. Steve and I will be having the Crim Law students over tomorrow after the final game, just so you know.” You curl in a little more head starting to pound, a yawn over taking you. “Go to sleep love, I will be here.” The day moves on, you napping on and off and someone is always there when you wake, movies playing quietly in the background, medications given and snacks. Around 2 Bucky

wakes you, bringing in a plate of safe foods, feeding you and checking on you.

Rumlow sits next to Walker, taking a sip of his coffee. “So I overheard you talking to Lemar about the little altercation you got in with Flame. I could use some help.” Walker nods, writing his phone number down and sliding it to Rumlow. “Call me.” Walker gets up, walking away. Rumlow sees his opportunity, use Walker to get Rogers, Barnes and Co. away from Flame, allowing him to take care of his job from Pierce.

The day continues much of the same, getting up, passing out, Bucky worrying, taking medications, and working slowly on the few homework assignments you had to do over the weekend. Starting with Pierce’s Poly Sci, pulling up the civil case and starting to read it with Bucky. Taking notes, pulling information from the case to put in the mini essay. “Hey Buck. Can we take a break? I need to eat something.” He nods, coming over to the bed, pulling you into his arms. “Wanna go get something, or we can order take out or I can make us something really quick.” You think for a minute, when Steve comes in the door, “Hey how did the day go? Sorry I wasn’t in.” You say to Steve, “We were just deciding what to do for dinner, do you want to join us for some take out?” He nods, sitting on the arm chair. “Sure, Nat and Wanda are out with Clint and Vision, celebrating Vision's new job with Banner, assisting in the medical sciences teaching department.” Steve and Bucky decide on Chinese ordering you your favorite meal and having it delivered to the Tower, you and Bucky cuddling on your bed and Steve chilling in the arm chair, watching an action movie. You excuse yourself to your bathroom, checking your phone, and get a text from an unknown number. -The Dean and I will be talking on Monday, you aren’t meeting the requirements of the program.- Instantly knowing it is from Walker you mute the number and head back to bed. Curling up to Bucky as Steve takes care of the leftovers. “Hey Doll, we gotta check your vitals again,” you groan at him. “Melyssa wants a record of them for the day, trying to see how you are doing.” Doing a final check for the night, you settle into bed, kicking Bucky and Steve out. Checking your phone again, seeing a barrage of texts from Walker, calling you every name in the book and becoming more and more unhinged with each ignored text. Tossing and Turning for hours you decide to sneak out for a little fresh air. You take your walker to the elevator, sitting on its little seat and rolling around the house, putting on a pair of flip flops, and opening the front door. Enjoying the cool breeze and the fresh air, you slip on your headphones and just gaze at the stars, watching them twinkle, you don’t notice him sneaking up on you, tipping your walker over with you sitting on it. Walker stands over you “You bitch, Stark wouldn’t let me do anything besides lackey all day, because he said I ‘don’t respect anyone or this program.’ This is your fault!” He spits in your direction, kicking the walker away from you as you gasp and struggle to get up. “People like you don’t deserve to be in this career field” he yells as he storms off. Struggling for air, the attack kick starts your fight or flight system that barely works, heart pounding in your chest. Finally, you get over to the walker and get it stood up to pull yourself off the ground as the sun starts to rise. Rushing inside as quickly as you dare, you shut and lock your door, sobbing into a pillow and trying not to puke, or wake the rest of the house, after you finally calm down you take off your (Bucky’s) hoodie and assess the damage, an open cut from hitting the ground on your arm, scrapes up your legs, and bruises starting to form, pulling on a tank top and some shorts, and curling into every blanket you own, you fall asleep with tears still in your eyes.

Bucky gets a late start, spending hours the night before working on homework, creating a study slide show for his crim law friends coming over later today. Making lunch and checking his texts, one pops in from Steve, -Just about finished with the game, Crim Law is coming in 45 minutes and I will be there in about an hour. Run to the store and grab some snacks and drinks, it is going to be a long evening. I haven’t studied at all.- Bucky grabs his sandwich and heads up to Flames room. “Hey I am going to the store, text if you need anything okay Doll?” You respond with a false strong: “Okay.” And listen for his footfalls to go away. You can barely move, having bruises on most parts of your body, chest aching, heart racing, unable to push any IV fluids or medications. Falling back into the fitful slumber you have been fighting all night. An hour or so later, you hear voices floating in the hallway, people in your home, doors slamming and food smells wafting up the stairs, you drop your head again and go back to sleep for a little while. Bucky answers the door, Melyssa coming in and heading up to your room, “Has she been okay today?” Bucky responds: “She was asleep every time I checked in on her, probably just really tired. I am gonna study, holler if you need anything.” Melyssa runs into Wanda and Nat on the stairs. “Join me up there?” She asks, knowing this visit may require extra hands. You wake to the three of them coming in the room, covered by blankets and heat blasting. “Hey Flame. Let's get some vitals and see what we can do to help you, okay? Blood is still processing, but your labs are all over the place. They are worried about an infection.” You groan at Melyssa while Nat gets you uncovered. The three of them gasp as they see the damage on your skin, Nat is down the stairs in just a few moments. “Everyone get the fuck out of the house. NOW.” The room of crim law majors clearing. “Steve, Bucky, up to Flame now!” Nobody notices Rumlow slipping into a guest bathroom and locking the door. Bucky takes the stairs three at a time, out of breath when he gets to the room Wanda and Melyssa, carefully maneuvering you so they can see and take pictures of every single scratch on your body. Wanda comes to Bucky and asks: “WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?!?!?! They were fine when I saw them last night.” Grabbing his shirt. “I swear to God if you hurt them I will kill you!I’m sure Vision and Clint will help me!” Bucky pushes Wanda aside. “They were fine when they kicked Steve and I out last night, and have been asleep every time I checked in.” Bucky comes over to you, taking your hand. “Doll, what happened? Who did this to you?” You cough a few times, voice breaking. “Walker…” Bucky’s metal arm clenches, plates gnashing together, machinery whirling.

Steve and Bucky launch into action right away.“We are going after him, he can not still be on this campus. Wanda get Vision to meet us, Nat call Clint and get him to talk to the other campus security personnel, we all heard that Walker attacked Flame. We need to find him and get some answers. Melyssa will you stay with them? I only trust you.” You continue to cough and barely understand the issue at hand. Bucky kisses you, heading to his room to put on some shoes. Steve, Nat and Wanda head to their own rooms to get everything they need and make some calls. Melyssa gets you cleaned up, reaccessing your port, and pushing the medications you missed. Sitting at the desk and charting all the issues at hand. Bucky and Steve come back in, promising to find Walker before the day is up, giving you small reassurances while you beg them to be safe. Rumlow hears vehicles starting in the driveway, and the doors slamming. He heads up to your room. “Hey, Melyssa right? Bucky asked me to sit with Flame. I am a friend from the crim law program. I can take over if you need.” He says, going to sit in the arm chair in your room. Taking out his phone and scrolling through, finding a number he is prepared to use. “Thanks I will still be here just a little bit, I want to make sure that this bag gets all finished and then set up another, they are pretty weak.'' Rumlow nods, sitting in silence, grabbing his laptop and ‘studying’. After about an hour or so Melyssa sets up the next bag of IV fluids, her phone ringing as she finishes. Taking the conversation out to the hallway, Rumlow can just barely hear her, stating she is just getting ready to leave, and that she will be there in a jiffy. “Hey, I need to go, I have another patient having issues. Can you watch Flame’s phone or let Bucky know, the last of their labs should be back in just a few hours.'' Rumlow puts on his best fake smile and charm. “Of course. I will stay until Barnes or Rogers return.” You continue to sleep, the hushed tones and pain meds keeping you lulled softly. Rumlow walks Melyssa to the door, locking the tower down and shutting off all the lights, making sure a window is open to sneak out of. Going back up to Flame’s room, searching through his backpack, finding the syringe that Pierce provided. Touching nothing but the syringe and injecting it into the bag of IV fluids, taking the syringe, taking a video of Flame twitching and seizing on the bed and leaving, heading to main campus to order food, watching from a window as Barnes and security escort Walker to a police car, a large bruise forming on his face, shirt torn.

Slamming the door shut in Walker's face, Bucky smiles, Steve giving him a disappointed look, “I just wanted to be you but better Steve.” Walker yells as they drive away. Bucky checks his phone, a text from Melyssa. -hey left flame had an emergency with another patient. Watch for a text from me later about labs.- Bucky rounds up the team and heads back to the vehicles, headed back to the Tower as quickly as possible. Walking into the tower and hearing glass shattering, Bucky runs up the stairs, finding you in your room, seizing, having pulled everything off the bedside table and on top of yourself, covered in glass and books surrounding you. He kneels next to you, seeing the blood on your forehead and then, Bucky hears something drop behind him, a sharp gasp, Wanda whipping out her phone and calling 911, Nat and Vision hitting the ground next to him, rolling Flame on their side, stopping the IV fluids, Steve rushing to the ground floor to open everything for the Medics when they arrive. “Bucky, I need you to step away, the medics will be here soon, and they need space to help Flame.” Wanda says to Bucky, pulling him away from your seizing body. “Can you find the nurse's binder to take with us, and grab them some of their favorite clothes?” The medics come in, assessing the situation, loading up your body and taking you to the nearest hospital.

Bucky sits in the waiting room for 6 hours, everyone taking turns sitting with him. Vision and Nat convince Dr. Banner to come over and take a look at the labs and scans. Steve and Bucky are talking quietly when Banner comes out, “The good news is they are alive, bad news is that their body has undergone a lot of trauma, there was experimental medication found in their bloodstream. When injected directly into the blood it causes seizures and brain damage, their body will heal, but right now I am not sure if they will wake up, we will have to continue to monitor their autonomic nervous system failure as well, because I am not sure how this will affect it.” Steve and Bucky just nod, Bucky with tears in his eyes. “We have gone ahead and placed them up in the ICU, they are in a coma, you can go up and visit whenever you are ready. The police will be coming to the house to search Flame’s room for the source of the toxic medication.” Banner walks out, leaving the boys shocked, Bucky crushes a metal travel cup in his hand. “Steve, this is all my fault! I left them. Somebody poisoned them. If they ever wake up how will they ever forgive me?” Bucky says with a sob. Steve reaches over to comfort him, pulling him in for a hug. “They won’t see it that way and you know it. Let’s go see your Doll.” The boys go up to the ICU, your still body, covered in tubes and wires, beeping of monitors, and the rise and fall of your chest forced by the ventilator you are on. Bucky grabs your hand, caressing the lines on your palm, kissing each pad, and knuckles, softly sobbing while Steve goes to find the rest of the group and inform them of what Banner said, giving you and Bucky some privacy. After a lot of guilt and yelling, the group finally goes back to the Tower, dragging Bucky along. The trend continues the next day, and the day after. Your friends are at your bedside when not in class, bringing their homework and dragging Bucky home at the end of the night. 3 weeks pass, Bucky sitting in the room, talking to you about his day, finals coming up. They are finally weaning you off the ventilator, meaning it's all on you to wake, the damage to your body healed, but your brain protecting itself. The nurses and Doctors say that talking to you is good, Steve tells you all about the games, how Walker got kicked out of the program. Wanda tells you all about how Vision, Banner and Nat have been working on a way to appeal to the FDA letting the medication be manufactured. Bucky, he tells you about everything, reading the cards you receive, the notes Steve and him have taken for you, and mostly how sorry he is. Another 2 weeks pass, the doctors saying that maybe you won't wake up. The doctors talk to your mom about options, withdrawing care, rehab, more tests. Bucky watches your mom sob, just hearing a soft “Withdraw care,” and storms into your room, “Doll, you have to wake up, you have to do it right now, I cannot live without you, I refuse. I need you, I need to be able to make up for everything that happened, the lies I told because of Pierce.” He kisses you, his last hope. “Wake up Doll, please! Do it for me, but if you can’t or don’t want to, just know that you were always it for me. My endgame, the spring to my winter, the love in my heart.” Dropping your hand and leaving the room, his goodbye was said. He goes to sit in the waiting room, while your mom says her goodbye, just waiting for the Doctor to confirm death. He and your mom sit vigil, the rest of the crew coming and going, sharing stories, giving you last goodbyes. A flurry of activity in the hallway by your room, when the doctor comes out, scrub cap in hand. “They-” Bucky’s heart stops, gasps fill the room, “Flame is asking for you Bucky.'' His head whips up, jumping out of his chair and sprinting to your room. There you are, eyes open, propped against the pillows, a weak smile on your face. “Hey Buck, I love you too. Thanks for being my Prince Charming.”

#bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x disabled!reader #bucky barnes x chronically ill reader #disabled reader #chronically ill reader #chronic illness #angst #bucky barnes angst #Steve rogers #Wanda #nat #Clint #vision #John Walker #brock rumlow #college AU

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1kook · 4 years

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skirt chasers — drabble iv

THIS IS A SKIRT CHASERS DRABBLE - FIND THE OTHERS HERE ! SUMMARY Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him. WARNINGS JK POV!!!, attempted solo masturbation, k*ssing, jk’s extensive knowledge of pornos, grinding, cunnilingus, face sitting, spit kink, light choking, praise kink, self nipple play, a love for boobies, unprotected sex, use of the pull out method, i love u kink, its kinda hinted tht oc has a somnophilia kink? not rlly but tagging just in case -_- RATING m (18+) WC 6.3k this can't even classified as a drabble anymore wtf

NOTES i have had this in my drafts since may 3. it is december 21. everyone point n laugh. anyway i very much love stimbo sc jk and i think he’s very cool so here’s a whopping 6k of the inner mechanisms of his big nerdy, college hottie brain <3

He doesn’t notice you’ve drifted off until he’s three solid paragraphs into his semester-long research paper. “Babe, can you toss me my charger it’s over…”

Jungkook swears he’s gonna take every single one of those stupid skirts and burn them to ashes. They had done their duty well, had given him the girlfriend of his dreams, but now they were just pushing their luck. What was once the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend, has now become the bane of Jungkook’s existence. He loathed them, he hated them, he could go twenty million decades without ever seeing them again because the torture they inflicted upon him was borderline inhumane.

Holy fuck, he knew you were gorgeous— hello, he was your boyfriend, thinking you were gorgeous was very high on the list of requirements you searched for in someone of his position —but he’s absolutely positive that you’re probably the sexiest woman he’s ever seen in all his twenty-two years. And Jungkook’s seen a lot of porn. Like, a lot.

He can’t help himself. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s rolling his desk chair over to where you’re sprawled across his bed, skin so soft where it presses against his pillow, lips so plush, and he’s pretty sure there’s a tiny, tiny droplet of drool begging to escape from between your puckered lips. Normally, he’d tease you to hell and back for this, knows how flustered you become when he catches you off guard, but today he lets it slide in favor of focusing on something else about your dozing form.

It’s the soft curve of your hips from where you lay on your side, smooth legs tucked close to you, and that goddamn pleated skirt giving you absolutely no protection from the eyes of the world around you. Luckily, he made sure to lock the door to his room when you came over today. And he’s almost positive Taehyung isn’t home anyway. So there’s no potential roommate to see you here, cuddled against Jungkook’s teddy bear, blue lace panties tucked between your folds.

They were his favorite.

Adorable and soft, and he knows that particular style— the cheeky kind —is your preferred style, because it’s the one he sees almost every time the two of you fuck. Seamless, because you hate when they tug against your skin, and baby blue simply because it was your favorite color. He can’t recall the last time they had been so exposed like this.

God, how many times had this same situation occurred? You dropping by to encourage him to do his homework, before eventually falling asleep and leaving him to his own devices. A lot of times, Jungkook guesses, because each and every time you wake up and nab one of his protein bars from the stash by his bed. Jungkook’s gone through four boxes in the last month.

But how many times had this happened with you in a skirt? Never. This was a rarity.

As the year progressed and yours and Jungkook’s relationship reached new levels of intimacy and adoration, Jungkook is sad to say the skirts had begun appearing less and less. It was winter and, unlike the furnace that was Jungkook’s body, he’s pretty sure you were a cold-blooded reptilian at this point, always leeching off of him for warmth. So since you couldn’t stand the cold, the skirts slowly faded into the background, replaced by Jungkook’s second favorite: the leggings.

He was no complainer, Jungkook respected your decisions! He wasn’t going to pressure you into wearing those cute tiny skirts he loved so much just because it fueled some PornHub-esque fantasy in his brain, especially not as a harsh winter descended upon you and the days became colder. He would not risk a sick girlfriend in the name of a horndog daydream.

But holy mother of pearl, Jungkook was a man. A skirt chaser. He could only withstand so much torture before he broke, and seeing your gorgeous, smooth legs on display after so many weeks of starvation awoke an ancient being inside of him.

Sure he’d seen them every time you guys fucked— duh. But this was not the same. It was different, seeing the tender skin of your inner thigh when he knew you weren’t trying to, your skirt stuck between you and the bed as you shifted about. It was different, knowing he could so easily have you, just flip up the skirt and tug your underwear to the side, not having to worry about fighting your leggings or skinny jeans down your legs. It was different and it was good, so painstakingly good, to have you in the skirt, but the worst part was Jungkook couldn’t even do anything because you were fucking sleeping.

He’d subconsciously pictured you like this for weeks, sprawled out on his sheets in the flimsiest clothing and ready for him to just slide right in, but Jungkook was a good boy—you’d told him as much just last week when he’d paid the bus fare for that ragtag group of teenagers, smiling up at him like he was your entire world. Was he sometimes a little too mean, a little too wild? Yes. But at his core, Jungkook lived for your praise. He couldn’t just stomp on that title you’d so lovingly bestowed upon him, a title he’d worked hard for since!

Furthermore, even if Jungkook wasn’t a good boy, to touch you in your sleep just seemed wrong. You’d mentioned in passing once that you wouldn’t mind as long as it was him (“I’m yours,” you had purred at some party, hand crawling down his abdomen, “your doll, remember?”), but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to when you were so vulnerable and just… not there. It wouldn’t feel right to use your body when you weren’t awake, and no amount of encouragement from you would change his mind.

So he does what all good boys do and prepares himself for a quick, self-administered handfuck.

Sue him, his girlfriend was hot!

It’d been a little over two weeks since the last time the two of you had fucked, and it was mostly his fault; clinicals and research papers had practically consumed what little free time he had in his schedule. And if Jungkook remembers correctly, he wouldn’t be that lucky this upcoming week either. Something tells him your period was approaching.

Jungkook doesn’t know what type of sorcery you’ve done to him, but in the time you’ve been dating, it’s become increasingly more and more difficult to nut without you. Whether that be fucking you, listening to your voice, or just imagining your pretty face in his head, you held a monopoly over Jungkook’s libido, one that he feared you’d never let go.

He had years stacked on years of browsing PornHub and Brazzers, can recall experiencing some of the craziest orgasms of his life while watching some girl get fucked. All things come to an end. Ever since he started dating you, not even his favorite video could make him hard anymore. Oh, how the great have fallen.

But with your blue panties before him, his cock hardens by the minute, nearly doubles in size when you move about and sigh a heavenly sound. Frankly, he doesn’t feel bad jerking one off to the thought of you. You were his girlfriend! He knows that you know that you’re the main character of all his right-handed adventures, and you’re not going to be mad at him for jerking off to you now. In fact, Jungkook imagines you’d be mad if he’d woken you up just for some frenzied quickie. This way, he’s blowing off some steam and you’re getting an extra ten minutes of napping. Everyone wins.

He’s barely tugged himself out of the confines of his sweats when a soft mumble of his name has his soul leaving his body. “Kook?”

“Baby,” he exhales, immediately tucking himself back into his underwear before moving closer towards you. You roll onto your back, skirt useless as fuck, he thinks, as it sprawls around your waist. “What’s up?” he murmurs, voice gentle, a hand carding through the nape of your neck because that’s how you always wake him up. Jungkook would be a liar to say it wasn’t one of the best feelings in the world.

You say something, but it’s a mess of gibberish and too quiet for him to understand, before turning on your side again and shuffling closer to him. Jungkook smiles, runs the tips of his fingers over your cheek, before moving to caress your back, massaging some feeling back into your muscles. Some more mumbled words, but this time he deciphers them as something along the lines of “c’mere.”

He chuckles, ducking down to kiss your cheek. “Don’t wanna interrupt your nap, baby,” he hums. “Go back to sleep.”

You whine in protest, suddenly catching his hand in yours. “Please,” you sigh, eyes fluttering open, but they’re unfocused as you gaze at him. Jungkook clenches his teeth. Technically he should be working on that twelve page research paper, and even just trying to jerk off right now would have been a huge setback. Crawling into bed with you, where you’re so sinfully laid out for him to take, would completely offset his plans until tomorrow. He had to be a responsible student here.

“I really gotta finish my paper…” he says, trying to let you down as gently as possible, flashing you an apologetic gaze. He thinks he has it in the bag, and your extended silence almost has him rolling back to his desk, when you suddenly snap into action.

“But what about your dick,” you murmur, and Jungkook chokes.

“My what—?” he splutters, voice a little too high.

You say nothing, craning your neck to release a series of cracks, soft huffs leaving your lips. Jungkook’s on edge the whole time, eyes following the movement of your neck, the hypnotizing expanse of skin that bares itself to him. “Saw your hand down your pants,” you say, eyes blinking open, and though they’re droopy with sleep, at least you can hold them open this time.

Jungkook laughs nervously, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck in embarrassment. “You saw that?” A soft hum. He wants to die. “Ah, baby, don’t worry about it. Know you’re tired, so just nap,” he sighs, caressing the back of your head once again, and he thinks he’s finally convinced you so he lets his guard down.

You moan softly, and he’s almost entirely sure it’s one of those waking up types of sounds, the ones you make when you’re stretching around the bed in the morning. “Want your cock.”

Jungkook swears he’ll die, right here, right now.

He groans, lowers his head to rest on the mattress. “Jesus, fuck, baby,” he huffs, has to count to ten to will the stirring of his slowly hardening cock away for the second time that day. “Don’t say stuff like that when you’re half asleep, please.”

You ignore him, the hand that had been wrapped around his wrist tugging him closer. You barely succeed, muscles still so weak, but Jungkook humors you and rolls his chair right beside your head, where he ducks down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Noooo,” you whine when he draws away too quickly.

A laugh blossoms in his chest, and Jungkook proceeds to rain down a series of kisses on your pretty face before he can stop himself. You melt under his touch, his affection, and Jungkook adores the way your body is so soft and pliant like this, back arching towards him after he places a hand on your waist.

“Come here,” you urge, voice a quiet plea. So soft, so needy.

Jungkook malfunctions for just a second before he’s clambering over you on the bed, manhandling your body until you're both on your sides, facing each other, with you pressed tightly to his chest. Even with your hands brushing up and down his back in the way that sends every nerve in Jungkook’s body tingling, and your leg thrown over his hip, some stupid part of him convinces himself you’re just cold, trying to warm up after walking around campus in that tiny little skirt all day. He cuddles you as best as he can.

And even with his dick twitching in his pants and his caveman instincts yelling at him to thrust up into your inviting core, Jungkook remains as professional as someone in a relationship can be when in bed with their lover. He’s so stuck on his self-control that he almost doesn’t hear the snort you muffle against his neck.

“What are you doing?” you laugh, reaching up to pinch his cheek. Jungkook blinks, eyes wide like a doe caught in headlights. “Are we gonna fuck or what?”

He chokes. He doesn’t even try to muffle his reaction like other times, because the way you’re looking at him and the heel you press against the back of his thigh preoccupies his thoughts instead. Your hands are still tracing along his back, melting him with your dainty touches. “Baby?” you question after he’s been silent too long, distracted by the way you use that hooked leg to tug your bodies closer.

“You… you’re still asleep,” Jungkook says, though it’s definitely a question.

You scoff, a smile curling around your features. “Mm, definitely not asleep,” you tease, and shift to push him onto his back, wiggling on top of him until those baby blue panties are pressed against his quickly hardening member. “Why? Wanted to touch me when I was asleep?” you continue, and Jungkook’s eyes nearly burst out of their sockets.

“No!” he exclaims, hands clutching your hips in alarm. He can tell he surprises you, because your eyes go wide for a brief second. “Never…” he mumbles afterwards, looking away from your imploring gaze. “Only like you when you’re awake.”

You sigh, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek that makes his heart flood with adoration for you. “You’re a good boy, Jungkook,” you say back, just as quietly. “A blueprint for the perfect man.” Another kiss, this time against the corner of his mouth that makes Jungkook’s hands twitch against your sides.

A soft moan tears itself from his throat, fingers digging into your hips as you slowly roll them against him. The heat emanating from your core seeps past the thin barrier of his sweatpants, makes his cock twitch in his boxers. He knows how it feels inside of you, has your body memorized like the back of his hand. But it’s in moments like these that he finds himself aching for you, desperate to feel the fluttering walls of your pussy, the pitiful whimpers that fall from your kiss swollen lips. And, well. The skirt makes it all too easy.

He places two hands on the backs of your thighs, runs them up until he’s pushing your skirt up over your waist. You pull away from his lips with a sneaky little smile, pointer finger stroking down the side of his face lazily. “Mm?” you tease, leaving a coy little peck against his mouth. “Now you wanna touch?” Jungkook rolls his eyes, snaps his teeth at your wandering finger when you draw it too close to his mouth. The giggle you let out is so damn precious, makes him want to put you in a glass case and never let anyone else touch you. Coincidentally, it also makes him want to rail you into the mattress until you cry.

“I’ll fucking ruin you, doll,” he settles on murmuring, subtly pushing you down against him. A soft giggle. Jungkook knows it’s your favorite nickname, even if you won’t admit it. He's the only one allowed to call you it, something about his intentions being pure or whatever, he’s not really sure. Anyway, you’re still so cute and soft on top of him, blinking slowly and prettily, so he’s dragging it out a bit, hoping you’ll become more alert in a few more minutes.

As sleepy as you may be, you never miss out on a chance to rile him up. “As if, doll,” you retort, his nickname for you rolling off your tongue seamlessly. It sounds heavenly, sparks this weird emotion in him that he never considered before. Him, a doll? No way. But there’s something about the sweet lilt of your voice, the starry-eyed gaze you level him with, that has him throwing all reservations aside. Put him on a shelf and call him Barbie, because he would be anything you wanted him to be.

Anyway, Jungkook’s sappy thoughts last all of two seconds before he’s rolling you over, successfully trapping you beneath his body. “Oh, so scary,” you feign, hands fluttering to clutch at your chest.

He glides his hands down your body, let’s them trail over your hip and down the side of your thigh. “Don’t get sassy with me,” he warns, thumb peeking beneath the hem of your skirt. Jungkook really wants to burn the piece of fabric this time, because after all that time it spent torturing him with its halfhearted attempts at covering you, it chooses now to do it properly.

Hands are thrown around his shoulders, the overwhelming scent of your perfume and body wash tickling his nose when you pull him in for another kiss. “Or what?” you purr, irises swirling with lust. “Gonna use your manly man strength to hold me down?”

He shushes you with a kiss, slow and languid just how you like. Your taste is familiar, feels like coming home, so Jungkook can’t be blamed for getting too carried away. It starts gentle— it always does. But then a tiny mewl gets stuck in your throat, the following moan swallowed by his tongue, and Jungkook nearly loses it. He nips at your bottom lip, waits patiently for you to open up for him, and when you do he wastes no time diving in. Your tongue against his is slick and wet, makes the most lewd sound. Your little sharp intakes of air fill the gaps, shuddery breaths that Jungkook takes as a good sign.

He strikes while the iron is still hot.

It’s amidst your lazy kissing that he secures his hands around your waist, two reassuring squeezes thrown your way before he’s abruptly rolling onto his back again. “Kook!” you squeal, clutching at the front of his shirt. A pouty frown paints your face, sleepy eyes narrowing him with a rather unimpressed look, tainted with the barest hints of confusion.

Jungkook grins, reaching back to yank his pillow out from beneath his head. “On my face,” he commands suddenly, and you snort.

“What?” you ask a little incredulously, leaning back to level him with an even more lost expression. “Since when do we do that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “Since I decided twenty seconds ago,” he answers rather bluntly. You still don’t look too convinced. It’s not a position the two of you have ever tried. You’re a little on the sappy side, always like to look at his face while you fuck, hold his cheeks in your palms, kiss him sweetly. On the one hand, Jungkook totally gets it; he’ll proudly admit that the sight of your orgasming face paired with your fantastic tits have done him many favors these past few months.

However, Jungkook is a lover of head. Giving or receiving, it’s very high on his list of sexual acts and whoever invented oral deserved all the praise in the world. Not only did you look drop dead gorgeous with his cock in your mouth— tears trailing down your cheeks, drool clinging to the corners of your lips —but you also looked absolutely sexy receiving it.

Kinda.

Probably.

Okay, so maybe Jungkook can’t really say, considering he always has a hard time catching a glimpse of your face when he’s down there licking and slurping your clit like a madman. Which is what leads him to this exact moment, an experiment weeks in the making. Jungkook has a theory that needs to be tested. “Please ride the fuck out of my face,” he tries, hoping the polite tone will win you over.

He’s met with an eye roll. Still, you’re kinder than you let on. “Okay,” you give in, and Jungkook will remember your heroism for the rest of his life. “But only because being on top is empowering.” He just barely contains an over-enthusiastic fist pump into the air, settling on a rather modest smile that has you leaning down to kiss him again. You reach for the zipper on the side of your skirt. “Just let me—“

“The skirt stays on,” he says quickly, hand on your wrist to stop you from removing his most favorite article of clothing.

“Baby,” you say, giving him a rather serious look. “It’ll cover your face.”

“It won’t,” he urges, reaching for the buttons on your blouse instead. Jungkook has had one too many encounters with tops like these, and has long since learned not to tear them apart like a crazed psycho. As much as he loves the sound of your buttons scattering across his bedroom floor, he can’t say he’s too fond of the scolding he inevitably gets afterwards. Anyway, the shirt comes off and so does your bra, leaving your tits in his face, tiny skirt on your hips. “Get up here,” he murmurs, ushering you up his body until your knees are pressing into the mattress right above his shoulders.

If it was up to Jungkook, he would have just grabbed your hips and shoved his face against your pussy. Luckily, it’s not, and your common sense shines through just in time. “One sec,” you say, and then finally, finally, the blue panties come off.

And then it’s just Jungkook and your glistening pussy.

“Holy fuck,” he groans, taking the opportunity to wrap his arms around your thighs. You squeak when he pulls you closer, hand instinctively reaching for the front of your skirt to hold away from his face. The view from here is heavenly, just your swollen clit, gorgeous tits, and shy face.

The muscles in your thighs are a little stiff. Or maybe you’re just nervous. Jungkook isn’t sure, all he knows is that it takes one encouraging tug for you to finally sit on his face. He doesn’t even register the surprised gasp that leaves your throat because he’s too busy tasting your pussy from an all new position. And it’s absolutely amazing.

Something about the position, having you carefully poised above him, does something to Jungkook. He likes to think he knows your body inside and out, knows what makes you melt and what makes you scream. He knows just how to lap at your cunt until you’re cumming, and how many fingers it takes for you to really feel it. But it’s like having you in this position changes all of that, rearranges all the tidbits of information Jungkook has spent months collecting.

(Jungkook is a meticulous man; he’s got a near perfect GPA right now that was the direct result of his carefully crafted note-taking techniques. Whether or not he abused the power of his perfectionist learning abilities to master the mechanisms of his girlfriend’s libido was no one's business but his own.)

One kitten lick against your swollen pearl makes you buck forward, clit brushing against his nose. Jungkook can’t remember you ever doing that on the first lick. “O- oh my—,” you cry, all airy and whiny. Your hand is pressed to the wall behind his bed, the other bunching the front of your skirt just above your mound. He’s rather happy to learn that, just as he’d hypothesized, this position does give him a better view of you.

He’s graced with the sight of your face, twisted up in pleasure. It’s the stereotypical eyes squeezed shut, lip caught between your teeth look. But there’s something different about it knowing that he’s gotten this reaction out of you with his mouth alone.

Jungkook quickly repositions you over him, tugging you back until his tongue is lined up with the front of your slit. You’re so warm down here, make him feel like he’s drowning with your heady scent alone. Tentatively, he lets his tongue dip between your folds, the very tip nudging your swollen clit. A moan tears itself from your throat, the hand that had been flush against the wall suddenly jumping forward to bury itself in his hair. “Oh- oh, fuck,” you shiver, hips jolting forward once more.

You taste good on his tongue, the arousal that coats your lips is sticky and sweet. When he laps his tongue along your folds, quivering hole to stiffened bud, you let out a sob that resonates deeply within Jungkook. And also Jungkook’s cock, which stirs beneath his trousers in excitement. What was once the focus of his mission, a quick handfuck to sedate himself before finishing his research paper, has long since been forgotten. It’s for the greater good, he tells himself, blinking up at you from between your thighs.

Eye contact lasts for exactly three seconds before you’re looking away bashfully, the fist clutching at your skirt trembling against your tummy. You’re so fucking pretty, Jungkook’s heart can’t take it.

And so he sets out on a mission to make you cum as soon as possible, abandoning his slow kitten licks in favor of suctioning his lips around your clit. “Kook,” you wail, tugging at his hair. Whether you do it purposely or not, Jungkook is a little shocked by how good the pain feels. It’s not an emotion he can ponder long, because then you’re using that same grip in his hair to tilt his head backwards, jerkily moving over him.

It’s rough and sudden, the buck against his face, but Jungkook loves it. The drag of your pussy against his lips, the wet glide of your juices smearing across his chin and Cupid’s bow. It all feels so good, and the fact Jungkook is getting a front row seat to the absolutely torn look on your face is just the cherry on top.

Jungkook has seen you make a lot of faces. He’s seen you shiver and drool as he nails you into your bed. He’s seen you sniffle and sob as he slowly fucks you in a rose petal filled bubble bath (a six month anniversary special planned by yours truly). He’s even seen your mirrored reflection fall apart as you bounced away on his lap in front of a mirror.

He’s never seen you like this before.

Needy and desperate, moaning his name softly, practically humping his face in your greed. Tiny skirt clutched against your waist, tits bouncing as you hurriedly grind against him. He has half the mind to burn this scene into his eyelids for the rest of his life.

He’s given up on doing anything with his tongue, simply sticking it out for you to do as you wish. Normally, he’s not a huge fan of letting you do things yourself. After all, Jungkook was your boyfriend. Making you cum was his job. But you’re moving so fast, so frantic, in your mission to cum. So Jungkook sits back and lets you go to town on his mouth as a series of moans spill from your lips.

And then something unforgivable happens.

Jungkook will admit it: he’s staring at you almost a little too dreamily, heart eyes and all. He thinks you’re fucking hot, taste like heaven and have these absolutely delicious boobs bouncing up and down. He’s a little distracted by your glorious figure that he doesn’t notice one crucial bit of information.

Your hand.

The desperate need to cum has your muscles weakening, thighs moving at a latent pace, and, much to Jungkook’s horror, hands trembling. It’s your own pleasure that lets the unimaginable happen: your skirt flutters down. Your grip on it loosens and before Jungkook knows it, the sight of your pretty face and nice tits are gone, snatched away before his very eyes. Even your wet cunt is impossible to see, his world suddenly shrouded in darkness.

Leave it to Jungkook to foil his own horny plan with, well, his horniness. If only he wasn’t so hopelessly in love with the image of you in skirts. Maybe then he could bask in the beauty that was you riding his face.

He acts fast, reaching for the material before he can miss out on anything. But the angle is weird, and without Jungkook’s hands holding your hips, you’re left weakly rolling forward instead. And he’s not the only one frustrated with this turn of events, your face quickly returning to its normal composed form as you level him with a frown. “Everything okay?” you pant.

Everything was not okay, but Jungkook isn’t sure how to tell you that without ruining this delicate moment. So he tries to show you with actions instead, releasing the skirt he’s got in his fist and letting it flutter over his face again. You giggle. “I told you so.”

It takes more willpower than he’d like to admit to pull away from your wet folds, pulling off with a lewd sound that has you biting your lip as you gaze down at him. “I told you so,” he mimics, a little mean but you don’t take it to heart. “Hold your skirt up.”

You hum, the grip on his hair loosening as you push away his dark locks instead. “Mmmm,” you hum. “No.”

“No?” he repeats, actually really scandalized. Okay, so he’s a little spoiled when it comes to you— it’s not his fault! You made him like this, conditioned him to think that you would always give into his every whim because you were just so sweet and considerate and wanted him to be happy. And Jungkook also wants you to be happy, and in his opinion, being happy right now means having him fuck your pretty brains out for ever getting sassy with him.

“I don’t listen to men,” you tease, followed by a cute little nod, skin still a little warm from your looming orgasm. Jungkook takes advantage of your tiny moment of weakness, and strikes like a viper.

A girlish squeal leaves your lips, hands stretching outwards as he knocks you backwards onto the mattress. “Jungkook,” you gasp, sprawled out artfully, beautifully, over his sheets now. He doesn’t waste a second longer, crawling over your body until you’re a shivering mess beneath him.

Hand against your throat, the other blindly reaching for the front of his sweatpants. “What is it, doll?” he drawls meanly, reveling in the way your eyes roll back when his newly-freed cock lands against your slit. A choked gasp leaves your throat, lashes fluttering wildly until Jungkook loosens his grip.

You’ve done a nice job riling yourself up, lips squelching wet and loose when he runs the tip of his cock along them. Your knees are pulled up for him, spread perfectly for him to fit between. You’re so good for him, Jungkook feels a little bad for how hard he’s going to fuck you now.

The sympathy doesn’t last long.

Once upon a time, you had been the epitome of a cute and sweet girlfriend. Had picked him up from class, encouraged him to do his homework, wore these cute little skirts around campus. Deep down inside, Jungkook knew everyone else was jealous of him— you were just so pretty and cute, a girl straight out of everyone’s dreams.

Until he sunk his horny claws into you. Jungkook will be the first to admit he spends a little too much time browsing porn sites— he’s a man, cut him some slack —which had never caused him any problems before. Even when the two of you were just friends (pining ones at that), you had never seemed even remotely affected by his extensive pornographical knowledge. It was a known fact among your friend group that Jungkook’s best friend was his right hand.

But then, of course, you started dating Jungkook and it was like a save file of all his horniest fantasies was downloaded directly into your brain. Which leads him to this.

“Spit in my mouth,” you shiver, got these huge, watery eyes pointed his way. His cock twitches.

There’s a little groan that tears itself from his throat when he leans forward, cock sliding along your folds, to grasp your chin between his fingers. “Open,” he commands, and you do. Your lower lip quivers, tongue pressed against it as you wait for Jungkook to spit down your mouth. He can’t say he regrets letting you peek through his porn stash, not when it leads to this, you whimpering at the hot glob of saliva he shoots down your throat. “Filthy,” he pants, memorizing the movement of your throat when you swallow like the good girl you are.

Before he can write another twelve sonnets about that dazed look on your face, he’s roughly grabbing at your thigh. You whine, limbs so pliant beneath his touch, letting him hike your knee over his forearm as he tugs you closer. “Fuck,” he groans, reaching down to align himself with your quivering hole. You’re still so wet, make the most lewd sound when he sinks into you. Not that Jungkook really hears it, the sound of your strained moans practically drowning everything else out.

“Fuck,” you cry, one hand clutching at his forearm, the other toying with your breast. It’s a magnificent sight, and Jungkook is suddenly feeling a little cocky when he realizes he’s the only one who gets to see this. It’s this presumptuous nature that fuels the first round of thrusts into your cunt, fast and full. He makes sure you feel every inch of him, tip to base, as he pistons his hips forward. “J— Jungkook,” you pant, back arching beneath him.

You take it so well, walls sucking him in every time he draws back out. “I’ve got you, doll,” he moans, hiking your leg further over his shoulder. Every roll of his hips has your tits bouncing back and forth, lower lip as well with the dopey, open-mouthed look you got on for him. And the damned skirt that got him here, fucking you with a punishing pace, sits perfectly around your waist. He has half the mind to take it off for you, briefly wonders if it hurts, but just looking at it reminds him of about thirty-seven pornos he’s seen. So it stays on, works alongside your lovestruck face to actively rewrite all those pornos anew with you starring in them instead.

It sure helps when you start your usual mindless babbling. “I love you,” you gasp, face screwed up in pleasure. “I- I love you so much.”

He’s contemplating doing a study on you and your weird mid-fuck confessions. You do this a lot, and while Jungkook doesn’t mind, it sure does leave him curious. “Love you too, baby,” he says anyway, repositioning his arms so he can hold your waist with both hands.

“Really?” you ask, voice so whiny, eyes brimming with tears. From emotion or your need to cum, Jungkooks not sure. (Hence the need for a study!)

Another brutal thrust that has you moaning loudly. “Really,” he reassures you, glancing down to watch his cock sink into your hole as he picks up the pace. Your arms are practically limbless, and his stomach is beginning to feel tight. The end was soon. “Love your pretty little face.”

Another whine, your fingers pulling at your pebbled nipples. “M- My pretty face?” you whimper, blink these long lashes up at him. They make Jungkook go a little mad, bring on a wave of jackhammer thrusts that cut your moans into choppy little cries instead.

“Prettiest girl I know,” he groans, not once stopping the movement of his hips. You’re quivering like a leaf beneath him, your entire body locking up as Jungkook guides you toward orgasm. “A fucking doll, baby— so beautiful for me,” he praises.

It’s exactly what you want to hear— secretly, Jungkook hypothesizes that you’re a little bit of an attention whore —crying out when he slows to a grind against you. Each roll of his hips has him rubbing over your swollen bud, leaves you trembling until you’re eventually unraveling beneath him. “Oh- Oh, fuck— Jungkook—“ you sob, writhing beneath him as you cream his cock.

Your tits look amazing, nipples stiff from your arousal and all the attention you’d been giving them. Your features soften, gasps framed by your pillowy lips. As Jungkook has said before, your pretty face was the most dangerous weapon.

He manages a few more pistons of his hips, mostly for reputation sake, before he’s eventually pulling out. His right hand, once the sole hero of his solo sessions, makes a valiant return now as he jacks himself off over you. It takes a few harsh pulls of his cock until he’s spurting his jizz over you, painting your tummy and your tits in white ribbons of cum. You flinch, a tiny whimper leaving your throat at the mess he makes. “Fuck,” he groans one last time.

When it’s over, you have the audacity to shyly pull down the front of your skirt. As if your tits aren’t out and about, but Jungkook pretends he doesn’t see it. Instead, he channels his energy into peppering your face in kisses. “Best girl,” he praises, even though he knows you hate the nickname. “My beautiful feminist queen.”

A pinch against his cheek. It hurts like hell, but he endures it for now, still very much in love with your performance today. “Get me a towel,” you huffily ask, uncomfortable with the jizz sticking to your tummy, as if he didn’t spit in your mouth a few minutes ago.

His research paper is waiting for him at his desk, the materials he’d spent weeks collecting waiting to be typed up. But his girlfriend is so soft and sleepy, asking him to stay for another nap.

There was never a choice.

#networkbangtan #bangtanhq #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jjk smut #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #mine #skirtfic

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flowercape · 7 years

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#im just being a baby because ive had a super shitty day #i have to keep going to the animation building and spend 7 hours doing homework a day #we cant work from home because a. i need a desk to animate on paper b. need the pencil test room #c. for digital class we gotta use the school computers and tablets because the version of after effects isnt compatible with new computers #so you have to use the school computers #so i cant do any of the big homework at home #meaning i have to take 20-30 minutes to get across town #sit in the animation building until it closes #saturday and sunday it closes at 7 #and then theres food breaks #so generally the most i can do is 7 hours a day on the weekend #which i spent yesterday and today doing an animation #and i got it finished but i STILL couldnt get it completely finished bc i couldnt export it #because the computer settings werent compatible #so im gonna have to go to the class building tomorrow #and then do two pencil tests tomorrow and tuesday #so because i couldnt get that one project done its fucking up my schedule #and i feel like shit about it #which is why im complaining so much lol #flower speaks

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tylerwritez · 3 years

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Tuesday, june 22 2021

I've noticed I'm getting "the shiverys" or "the twitchy" a lot today. Like every time I FEEL something I take a moment to violently tic.... every time I think about certain things I tic.... good things, bad things, things from an hour ago and things from years ago. Tic, tic, tic.

Also, I have... some stuff to explain. Its really no big deal, but you know me: I'll freak out about it anyway. Basically I dissed my friend (rightfully so) around the time that we had just met cos they did something that threw me off.

He saw it in my phone... NOW. it's not RELEVANT anymore and I've since redacted that criticism...and now I gotta explain it to him anwyays. Oh well. I'm good at this stuff. I can get myself outta any situation. I dont even know why I'm talking like this tho... it's not a "Situation" it's just smthn I gotta explain rq.

Oh, today's song recommendation is Spirit Crusher by Death. I'm a huge Death fan...

Also! I gotta study... for my replacement exam. How stressful. Its about photosynthesis, but like, it's not simple. We went DEEP inside those fucking leaves.

One sec, lemme hook up my IV tube

Not an ACTUAL IV tube... just my headphones. But since I'm so #emo, it might as well be a fucking IV tube with the way that I cant live without it.

Its 3:08 and I'm walking home now. I was upset last night but me and Star have made up now lol... it was thAt easy. I'm so defective, making shit hard when it doesnt need to be.

It's so hot out damn. Idk. I had school today, so I had Bio class... I ACTUALLY PAID ATTENTION for once. I had lunch with Star and her friend group, and I honestly kinda feel like they're MY friends now too, even just a little bit.

Actually, I used to rant about feeling lonely like all the time but now I have so many friends it's crazy they all keep inviting me places and it's like people WANT ME AROUND... idk. It makes me happy.

Today I gotta ask if tommroow after school I can go to Bee's house to watch Supernatural (famous homoerotic ghost show)

I should also add songs to Erin's spotify playlist for our picnic saturday which I still need permission to go to.

I gotta ask for Wednesday after school to watch Insidious with Jay which is apparently really good

Also hes the friend that I gotta explain stuff to... the DrAmA... the ThEaTrE....

Update my dad said yes to hanging out with Bee but first I'm gonna miss school to fix my broken brackets on my braces

Also turns out the house I THOUGHT we were moving into has substantial damage from shifting so... we aRENT moving there.

In case you didn't know, shifting is when like the house that's been built literally SHIFTS like it moves around.

Anwyays Jay just texted me... I'm gonna change into shorts since it's hot, set up my study area,.... and respond to him.

The time is 3:22 p.m.

Wish me. Luck.

Luck is plentiful! As it so often is in my risky, risky life.

I play my cards right. It's a learnt skill.

But also there wasnt much to explain since it passed already and was tiny anywyas.

XD so I've made up with the whole goddamn world by now.

Its 6:31, we saw 1 house. Only one. Its kinda hot out but I'm gonna bike now since we just had supper. I finally finished my homework... I just have to finish one mixed media piece as my final project for art!

Friday is my replacement. On photosynthesis and cell resp. We know this. But what I didn't mention, or I dont THINK I did, is that if I finish my art project before then I have the second block FREE!!! Me, Star, and her friend

A are planning to leave for second block and maybe get mint chocolate chip ice cream!

Also I might eat her out XD

Anyways idk. I hope I can bike tonight to call Jay.

I keep accidentally using people's real names here then having to correct it... I dont know how much i care about MY identity being discovered... but to have my friends doxxed would suck.

Man I feel bad abt saying fuck star last night cos we made up....

Wait we r looking at another house? Idk I'm in the car still waiting to go home

Oh wait no now we r goin home

Its 6:39... I hope I still have time.

I went biking, called Jay. Went home. Idk, friendly conversation... we talked more tonight and I also talked to my other friend A. Jay is... I LOVE HIM?? SO MUCH??? I feel so happy. Talking to him thinking about him seeing his STUPID FUCKING FACE JESUS. his eyes alone... I could stare at his face all day probably. I want to kiss him... hOLD HIS HAND... omg... huG HIM!!! Eofjwpxjwie he's so sweet like I can't even... and I'm proabably not good enough for him like. Wtf. Hes easily a 10. And I dont rate things outta 10. How tf do I end up with HIM? Doing stuff, as friends. Like wHAT. I guess I got lucky XD. He says he loves my personality and I'm hot XD ofc I dont see it myself. But like. JESUS CHRIST he could proabably easily pull whOever. XD me?

Whatever though. As long as we r together and stuff. I LOVE HIM A LOT. he said he loved me. Every time he says that it makes me so overly happy.

Maybe I'm just sappy and stuff.... whatever. I think it would be nice to be hugged by him.

Yeah I'm cheesy.

I'm sorta tired now so maybe I'm not writing the best.

I just keep thinkinf about love. Love is a muscle of evil suggestion. But how evil can it really be? I am just a human being and that is all. Everything else is applied. I am just a human being with soemthing in my heart that pulls me all over the place. Love is this strange thing because I'm fucked up and to be able to love without that fucked up part of me, without the damage... is this complicated, hard thing to do and I can NEVER tell if I'm doing it right but I know I'm DOING IT. I know I FEEL LOVE. And soemtimes it's such an intense thing like when you go to surf on a wave at the beach with ur belly but u hit it wrong and it's so big and overwhelming it washes over you and PULLS you down to the bottom and smushes your face into the sand and YOU CANT BREATHE jesus Christ it's like that.

Or maybe I just want to experience love as it should be felt.

Obviously all of my problems surrounding this Damage could be easily fixed if I went to therapy but. there are reasons I can't.

I LOVE a lot. Too much for my own good. Enough to hurt me, get me into trouble, etc etc but also... enough to liberate me. I LOVE. I love Jay. So much. LIKE. MY BRAIN ORBITS AROUND HIM CONSTANTLY THINKING OF HIM AND PRAISING HIM AND MWUAH HE IS SO LOVELY I BOW BEFORE HIM...

I think as much as I love, a lot of the times I tend to focus even more on BEING loved.

If I am told I am loved, and shOwN I am loved... it is one of the most powerful things. Especially since I was literally emotionally neglected in childhood... yeah. I feel like I'm always trying to fill that hole.

Not EVERY feeling I have is for that reaosn but sometimes, if you tell me you love me, show me you love me, hug me,... I'll like start crying,,, that's the childhood emotional neglect kicking in. If you call me #smol and #cute and say I look young and fragile which happens more often than you'd think XD, I know I'm not supposed to like that shit, so I act like I dont....but I do. Which is PROBABLY ALSO THE CEN 🤪 like whatever lol

Anwyays I'm fucked up

You see how quickly things become complicated in my mind?

Convoluted? Is that the word?

Whatever. I OVERCOMPLICATE THINGS COS I OVERTHINK THEM BECAUSE I'm LITERALLY MENTALLY ILL IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I'm not joking. I obviously have unresolved undiagnosed "issues"

I do Suspect things, though.

I can make a list

Maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I will.

I shouldnt.

Whatever.

I used to hate when people brought up my self harm. I would actually panic. I still self harm but now? Now I'm fine with anyone talking about it as long as it's not an adult who can get me into trouble/force me into therapy over it. Because really? I kinda like having it mentioned. It's kinda validating and it's like hey... people can see that I'm sick.

I dont do it so people talk to me about it though. Dont get me wrong. If I did, I'd go vertically on the arms, not for suicide but so it healed and people would ask XD.

My scars are actually VERY hidden... cos I never intended for ANYONE to see. But for those who DO see them,,,, it's nice soemtimes to have people express concern.

I dont wanna be PITIED or anything, but idk I just think to myself "wow, they're CONCERNED... about ME... they arent angry or mean... they didnt yell at me or threaten me... they respect my autonomy and privacy...

And they CARE ABOUT ME..." and it makes me cry.

That's also the CEN.

I dont know. I just like when people express genuine concern. Even if they see and then just ask if I'm okay. That's all it takes cos then I go wow.

Its validating and irs lovely because finally people care... FINALLY PEOPLE CARE. FINALLY I GET SOME EMPATHY OR SYMPATHY AND NO ANGER.

Even just having them brought up tells me its noticeable enough

My brain does this thing where it thinks nothing bad that's ever happened to me was Bad Enough for me to be upset about.

And I dont know... its nice sometimes to be told shit like "omg that looks so bad" or to see that people who do see my cuts are somewhat shocked or revolted... it's nice because I go... "hey, it was bad enough for them..."

Or to have people comment on them with concern. Just ANYTHINT WHERE PEOPLE NOTICE IT AND ARENT ASSHOLES ABOUT IT IS VALIDATING.

Because I'm not used to that...

Because CEN

I'm. The worst perosn on the fucking planet.

I should kill myself.

I suddenly actually feel so self hating I do want to kill myself... oh god.

I ruin everything. Everything. Everything. Everything. What have I done. Like. Why. Oh god.

I'm just remembering when Star said my kindness seemed like an act. And how I've been called out for seeming fake like 2 other times.

DO I SEEM FAKE???? I DONT EVER PUT ON ACTS OF KINDESS.... CONCIOUSLY? but the very idea that I could be perceived that way...

Should I like not try to be nice or some shit?

Jesus christ she hurts my feelings even now when it was a long time ago.

But I cant blame her. I can't blame anyone for how i feel except my parents because they left me with fucking. Heart nerve damage or some shit.

I'm tired and now I'm sad too. Goodnight guys.

#JudeJournals

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just-another-marvel-girl · 4 years

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“The Way We Met” A fandom by me!

Chapter 8

(Peter's P.O.V)

All I could think about was how amazing Y/n is, and how savage she was at Delmar's.

We had arrived at my apartment.

"May! May I'm home!" I yelled

"Oh Peter! How was decathlon practice?"

"It was fine. Mr. Harrington was his awkward self as usual."

"Well, what hasn't changed? Oh! Hi Ned, I didn't see you there. Oh you must be Y/n! I'm Peter's aunt May."

"Hi May!" Ned said with a smile on his face.

"Nice to meet you, May." Y/n said

"You know, Peter has told me a lot about you." I felt my cheeks warm up.

"May...." I mumbled.

"Oh has he now?" Y/n said raising her eyebrow, while smirking.

I felt really embarrassed. I didn't really know what to do. My cheeks were hot, and I knew I was blushing. All I could really do was look at the floor.

Eventually we finally made it into my room.

"Wow, Pete! Your room is awesome. There's so much Star Wars!" Y/n said. For some reason when she called me "Pete" it made me smile.

"Thanks! It's something I loved sharing with Ben." All of these memories were coming back to me after I said that. Me and my uncle would have so much fun together, when it came to Star Wars. From having Star Wars movie marathons to light saber battles. We did it all.

"So what have you been telling your aunt, Parker?" My cheeks had been getting hot again. I didn't know what to say. I had been telling May how awesome Y/n is and how sweet, and kind she is. May also figures, along with Ned, and now me, that I have a crush on her. So I quickly said;

"Um, just how we met, and sTUfF." I said with a sheepish, and cheesy smile.

"And.... 'stuff'? If you say so." She said shrugging her shoulders. I felt very awkward, and tense, I needed to break my own tension.

"I'm uh.... going to pop some pop-corn." I said scratching the back of my head while looking at the floor.

"Oh yes! Pop-corn is a movie watching essential." Y/n said. I left the room and went to the kitchen to pop the pop-corn, but I could still hear Y/n and Ned talking.

"I like how you think Y/n. How have we not met sooner? I wish you and Peter would have ran into each other a while ago."

"Thanks Ned. As much as I like getting hurt, I wish I would have met you guys sooner to." I smiled. I agree, I also wish that we had met sooner. I couldn't help but smile when I walked into the room. I think I really like Y/n. When I did walk back into the room Y/n she had picked episode III to watch. As soon as Y/n saw me with the pop-corn she ran up to me and stole he bowl. We all laughed.

"Episode III is one of my favorites, because I love to see the story of Darth Vader unfold." Y/n said while stuffing her face with pop-corn.

"That is true." Ned said while nodding his head.

*******

We had finished watching episode III, and we had started episode IV, when Y/n had said;

"To be honest, you guys are some of the best friends that I could ever ask for."

"But you're friends with Liz Allen, I'm sure her and her group are more fun then we are." Ned said playfully pushing Y/n.

"No, I'm being serious. I love Liz with all my heart, but I don't feel like I belong with them. I feel like I'm an outsider, and that I feel like I don't have anything in common with them, except Liz. I just don't feel like I fit in. And the most annoying part about it is Flash can't and won't ever stop flirting with me. He is always trying to get my attention. Oh, and speaking of serious, next time we get together, we have to watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban."

"Defiantly" I said. My heart felt heavy for Y/n. I knew exactly what it felt like not to fit in. I was alone pretty much my entire life, until I met Ned.

"I feel more comfortable about being myself around you guys" She said.

"Well I'm glad." I said happily.

As the night went on Y/n had to go back to her apartment before dinner. So all that was left was me, Ned, and pop-corn all over the floor.

"Dude, you crushing on her so hard."

"You know what Ned? I think I am." I said with a huge smile on my face.

"So the Spider finally admits it.” Ned said Nodding. "You should ask her out some time, you two would look so cute together."

"Thanks Ned, but like I said earlier, we just met and I think that we should take things slow."

"Spoken like a true boyfriend. You said that like your already dating her. Welp, I've got to go. See you tomorrow, Pete." He said as he stated to walk out of my room.

"Hey, you have to help me clean up this mess!" I said shouting because he wasn't in the room anymore. He came back and peeked his head through the door, and said;

"You’re on your own there Peter." He said shrugging and he left.

"Hey! Get back here Ned!" It was to late though, I already heard the door shut.

(Y/n's P.O.V)

Me, Ned, and Peter have been hanging out for about two months. I had also become good friends with a girl named Michelle Jones. Don't get me wrong, me and Liz are still really good friends, and we hang out all of the time, just as much as we always have, but I hang out with Ned, and Peter more. We love having Star Wars, and Harry Potter marathons. These are some of the best times of my life, is spending it with them, especially Peter Parker. He is one of the best guys anyone could ever meet.

I didn't know it but later today I would be leaping with joy.

"H-hey, Y/n." Peter had walked up to me before class. He sounded pretty nervous, and I wasn't sure why.

"So I uh, was thinking, would you um, maybe, possibly, sorta, want to go out with me tomorrow night? Like sorta, kinda, maybe on a d- date?" He said shaking. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know Peter liked me too! I was shocked, and didn't know what to say. We just kind of stared at each other for a while before I said something. I really had never been asked out before, I mean, yeah Flash has asked me out a million times, but not truly by some one who truly cares.

I could see that Peter was starting to get a little worried because I wasn't saying anything. I quickly came up with;

"Yes, Peter. I will go on a date with you." I could see all of the excitement explode in his eyes.

"Oh my gosh she actually said yes!" He said out loud.

"You know I can here you right?"

"Wait, I said that out loud?" He said covering up his mouth.

"Yeah, you kinda did." I said laughing. "So since it's tomorrow night, do want to plan at lunch?"

"Nope." he said with a big goofy smile on his face.

"No? What do you mean no?" I asked confused.

"I already have everything planed."

"Well I guess that will be fun. See you later Peter!" I said happily.

"Yeah, see you Y/n!"

*******

It was after school and I was at Liz's house working on homework. I was just humming away in happiness. I had the huge smile on face.

"Okay. I gotta ask now. Why are you so bubbly? You haven't been like this since.... never mind. But still, you really bubbly." Said Liz. When Liz started to say 'since' she meant since before my aunt had past away.

"Oh nothing." I smiled.

"Oh no hon, it's something."

"No." As I twirled to my back pack.

"Tell meeee, pleeease! I mean, we are best friends, we tell each other every thing. You've never not" She laughed.

"Okay, fine." I took a deep breath, and with a huge smile on my face I said; "Peter asked me out on a date!" We both squealed together.

"Oh my gosh! That's amazing! I guessing you sad 'yes' since you've been acting this way."

"Well, duh." I said playfully rolling my eyes.

"So when is the date?"

"Tomorrow night. Peter said that he's already got everything planed out."

"Wow, he must be really into you."

"Well I'm really into him. I didn't know that he liked me too."

"Well I'm happy for you."

"The only thing is I don't know what we are doing, so I don't know what to wear."

"Just wear something comfy, and nice, but not to nice."

"Yeah, your right. Oh look at the time. I gotta go. See you at school."

"Bye Y/n"

I was walking home and so excited! I couldn't help but smile while listening to my music the whole way home.

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mattygraygubler · 5 years

Text

our campus: chapter 8 (tom holland fic)

summary: frat!tom and reader go to the same college and y/n is tasked with being his tutor, they don’t really get along at first (because i love reader and tom hating each other trope)

warnings: drinking, drinking, more drinking, mentions of sex

word count: 2.6

a/n: sort of a cliff hanger at the end???? we’ll see what happens!

as always texts are bolded

for a list of characters click here

to be added to the tag list send me an ask !

masterlist

✰✰✰✰✰

You slowly opened your eyes and were immediately confused. You were in your room, but you felt someone’s arms around you.

You drank almost an entire bottle of wine last night, so needless to say, you didn’t really remember anything. You didn’t think you slept with someone… But did you?

The body groaned, but you still couldn’t figure out who it was because the lights were off and blackout curtains closed. You pushed their shoulder a bit and heard a british voice say “Whaa?”

“Tom?” You asked incredulously.

“Good morning, darling,” he said. His voice was raspy and low, so incredibly sexy.

“What are you doing here? Why are you shirtless, where are my pants?! Did we- ohmigod tell me we didn’t…”

“You don’t remember?” He asked and you shook your head, still very aware that his arm was around you and your legs were intertwined. “Relax, we didn’t have sex, love. We just hung out and then watched a movie and fell asleep.”

“Then where’s your shirt?” He laughed.

“You’re wearing it. You were cold and wouldn’t let me leave the bed, so I gave it to you.” You bit your lip, very uncomfortable. It was one thing to sleep with someone and not remember it, but to spend the entire night cuddling? You weren’t a couple, who does that?!

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You said and sat up, untangling your body from his.

“What are you apologizing for?” He asked.

“I mean… I’m your tutor, we’re just becoming friends, it’s weird for us to-to sleep in the same bed together and-”

“Y/N, slow down. We’re friends. It’s really not a big deal, totally platonic. I mean, c’mon, you’ve never slept in the same bed as Kyle? Or Emily?”

“No, I have…” “Then what’s the big deal?” He asked.

“I guess there isn’t one…” You replied. Tom swung his leg over the side of the bed, stretching and getting his stuff together. You couldn’t help but watch his back muscles flex when he stretched. You wanted to run your fingernails along it.

“I gotta take care of some stuff, I’ll see you later today?” He asked. You nodded.

“Sure, I’ll see you later. Wait, Tom!” You said before he could walk out the door.

“Yes?” He turned back to look at you.

“You’re, uhm… You need your sweatshirt back.” You started to take it off.

“I’m only going down two floors. You look comfy anyway.” He said and smiled at you before walking out.

You lied back down in bed, picking up your phone and checking the alerts. You scrolled through all the drunk texts from last night, laughing at a lot of them.

♡girly girls♡

GUYS

whaaaaaat em

GUYS GUYS GUYS

em what happened

NOTHING HAPPENED

YET

CHECK THE WEATHER REPORT

You rolled your eyes and checked the weather report, unsure of what she was referring to. It was the first weekend in February, so you weren’t expecting your weather app to show you a 100% chance of snow starting in a few hours and lasting until Monday night.

THATS RIGHT LADIES

SNOOOOOOWWWW DAAAAYYYYYY

Y/N we’ll be over at 9 to play games, iz you and i are goin to grab the booze, em youre in charge of food

You

what am i in charge of?

dont you have homework? plus were using your room, we can take care of all the stuff

are we inviting anyone else?

thank you for asking i would love to invite harrison

im fine with that if i can invite cal

Cal was the nerdy boy from delt who Isabelle was seeing. It was really low key, they’d only gone on a few dates, and things hadn’t gotten physical yet.

Y/N! invite tom and we’ll make it a total delt nite !!!

You

yeah ok ill invite him. were gonna be studying anyway.

wow i expected more push back

You

were friends now, it wont be weird. its not like its a quintouple date

it is if one of those delt boys has a gay sister

not interested. besides i doubt more than 7 people can fit comfortably in Y/N’s room

You

fine ill see you guys tonight.

You hopped in the shower, putting on a pair of leggings and a cropped sweatshirt. You decided to text Tom.

You

hey so it looks like its gonna snow i was wondering if we could work at my place instead?

also ive been told to invite you to our game night tonight

Tom

interesting, because i was already invited

what took you so long Y/L/N?

You

sorry i was in the shower

Tom

likely story

but yeah that sounds great ill see you in a few hours

A few hours. That’s plenty of time for you to put your glasses on, earbuds in, and really focus on your homework.

* * *

You were pulled from your law reading by a knock at the door. You opened it, seeing Tom in a soccer tee shirt and gray sweatpants. His hair was wet and he ran his fingers through it.

You hoped he didn’t see the fact that you bit your lip, but you couldn’t help yourself. He just looked so incredibly sexy.

“You look... “ His eyes scanned your body and you immediately wrapped your arms around you, insecure.

“What?”

“No, you just never wear stuff like this in front of me. You’re always so put together.”

“Your point?”

“You look cute, that’s all.” Tom said and walked into the room. He thought you were cute? No, you needed to calm down, he’s the biggest player ever, he didn’t mean anything. Just some accidental flirting.

“I brought tequila, Harrison said it’s your favorite.” He said and dropped his backpack on the floor and put the tequila on the table where you kept your booze.

“That’s sweet of you, thank you, it is my favorite.” “Really? I thought he was joking.” “No, why?”

“You’re just… you’re really something else, Y/N.” He said with a laugh.

You grabbed your notebooks and started the session, you checking his homework, him redoing the mistakes, and you answering any questions he had about the material.

“You’ve definitely made an improvement,” you said as you finished reading his essay on the power shifts in England from the 1600s to today.

“Thank you? I think?”

“You’re welcome. You’re almost there, but you’re still not incorporating this source correctly.”

“That’s because that source makes no sense. The writing is so convoluted, it’s mental!”

“Then why don’t you find a new source?” You asked.

“Well… I thought I’d be easier if I just stuck with this one.” Normally you would have rolled your eyes at that, but instead you found yourself laughing.

“Read it again,” You said and handed him the library book he was using as his last source, “And if you still can’t understand it, I can explain it or we can just find a new source.”

You grabbed your own book, Rage Becomes Her, which you were reading for your Women, Politics, and Public Policy class, and started highlighting right where you left off.

You both got lost in your books, highlighting and annotating in silence. Every once in a while Tom would stop to ask you about a particular passage.

It was another hour or so before you both heard a knock on your door. You got up to open it, and as soon as you did Emily burst into the room, Harrison right behind her holding three pizzas.

“TOM!” Emily said and tackled him in a hug. “It’s so good to see you again!” “I didn’t realize you two had met,” you said and helped Harrison with the pizzas.

“Just once,” Tom said with a laugh. He made himself comfortable on your bed instead of the floor, Harrison took a seat on your comfy chair and Emily made herself comfortable on his lap.

“I better leave this unlocked,” you said. “I would offer you guys a drink, but Isabelle and Ally are-”

“Did someone say something about a drink?” Isabelle said, pushing the door opened.

“What’s up bitches,” Ally said and put a bottle of wine, svedka, prosecco, and a 30 on the booze table.

“How long do you guys anticipate this storm lasting, because that is a LOT of booze for 7 people,” you commented.

“Lighten up, babe, it’s not like we have to drink it all tonight.” Isabelle responded.

“Better to be safe than sorry.” Ally said with a mischievous grin. They greeted the others in the room when you heard a knock on your door.

“I heard there was a party happening here?” Cal said as he pushed open the door. You closed it all the way behind him so no one else could stumble in.

After everyone introduced themselves to each other, Harrison said “So what does everyone want to play first?”

“Oh, you’re new.” Ally said. “See, we kinda of have an agenda.” “Is that so?” Harrison asked. Emily kissed his cheek. “Tell me more.”

“Well the first time we had a snow day, we took turns picking our favorite games, and then we just stuck with that formula. First is A which means kings,” Isabelle said. “Then Emily, which means never have I ever. Then me, which means truth or dare. And then Y/N.”

“And what does Y/N pick?” Tom asked.

“Y/N picks poker, of course. But most of the time were too drunk to get there.” Ally said.

“Yeah I really got the short end of the stick there. It’s a good formula, though.” You replied and grabbed a deck of cards and a beer.

“Let’s go, boys and girls.” You said. Everyone sat in a circle, the beer in the middle like you were worshipping it, and you spread out the cards in a circle around it. You saw Tom and Harrison exchange a look across the circle.

“Something wrong?” You asked.

“Well… Don’t judge us, but we’ve never played this game before. They don’t have it in England.” Everyone else laughed quietly at Harrison’s statement.

“It’s easy. Everyone picks a card, and each card has an action assigned to it. Ace is waterfall,” You said.

“Two is you, so you pick someone to drink.” Isabelle said.

“Three is me, so you drink.” Cal said as you went around the circle explaining the rules.

“Four is floor, so the last person to slap the floor loses.” Emily said.

“Five is guys,” Ally said.

“Six is chicks,” You said and the circle started again.

“Seven is heaven, so last person to touch the ceiling drinks.”

“Eight is date, so you pick someone and whenever one of you drinks the other has to too, for the rest of the game.”

“Nine is rhyme, so you go around the circle saying words that rhyme and the person who can’t continue the rhymes drinks.”

“Ten is categories, so it’s the same as nine but with a category of something, like animals.”

“Jack is never have I ever.”

“Queen is questions, so the next person who answers a question they ask drinks.”

“And finally, king is the ruler, so you make a rule that everyone has to follow until the next king is pulled.”

“Make sense?” You asked.

“Not one bit.” Tom responded.

“You’ll get the hang of it, I promise it gets easier.” You said. “Al goes first.”

“Why?” Harrison asked.

“Gay goes first.” The four of you said in unison. The boys looked scared. They had no idea what they had gotten themselves into.

“One last rule. First drink is a shot of your chosen poison. After that, you can drink whatever you want.” You explained as Isabelle gave each person a shot glass and the handles of hard liquor were passed around.

“Four,” Ally said and everyone slapped the floor except Tom and Harrison. Harrison realized first, so you watched as Tom downed the shot across the circle. He tensed his jaw after, which made you wet already. When he saw you looking at him, he winked at you.

Your turn was next, so you quickly pulled a card, a six, so you and the other girls did your shots and then began to pour yourselves your chosen drinks. For you, that was a second shot of tequila and then a rum and orange soda.

“Two.” Isabelle said with a grin. “I choose our kings sponsor, miss Alexandria Park.” Everyone whooped as Ally dramatically took a sip of her beer.

“Five,” Cal said. The boys took their shots, except Tom who took a sip of his beer.

“My turn then?” Tom said and drew a card. “Eight. Which one is that?”

“Date. You pick someone and for the rest of the game whenever one of you drinks, the other has to too.” Cal explained. Tom looked around the circle, but you already suspected who he was going to pick.

“Y/N,” he said. “Would you care to be my date?”

“You’re exhausting, Holland. What, are you trying to get me drunk or something?” That shut him up, right as Harrison said ‘seven’ and everyone reached for the ceiling except Tom, who groaned and complained about having to drink again.

Cal was the one who finally popped the beer and had to chug it. You put the cards to the side and everyone held up ten fingers, already ready for never have I ever.

Things started off innocent enough, with Emily sharing that she had never peed in a pool. By the time you all went once and it was Harrison’s turn, he made things more interesting.

“Never have I ever slept with more than 15 different people.” You and Tom were the only ones who clapped.

Harrison rolled his eyes. “Jesus fucking christ, it’s like you guys were made for each other.” He commented. Your face got red, which Emily noticed, so she went quickly next.

You finally lost, getting rid of your ten fingers before anyone else. You were always a bag of secrets, and Tom found himself learning more and more things about you he didn’t know. Like that you had a tattoo, or that you’ve gone skinny dipping, or that you’ve never had a gin and tonic.

You were all wasted, that was clear. Isabelle was in between Cal’s legs on the floor, leaning her back against his chest. Ally was lying on the couch all by herself, upside down. Harrison was in your big chair with Emily on his lap, and you and Tom were on your bed, you lying on your stomach and him sitting against the headboard.

“Isabelle, truth or dare?” Cal asked.

“Dare,” she said, looking back at him.

“I dare you to ditch your friends and come back to my room with me.” He said.

Isabelle shared a look with all of you before saying “Sorry guys, I’m not one to turn down a dare.” They grabbed the half-drunk bottle of prosecco on their way out.

“Al, truth or dare?” Emily asked. This went on until Ally passed out from drinking, still upside down.

“We’ll get her home.” Harrison said. He picked Ally up as Emily collected their stuff and bid you and Tom good night. You both sat in silence for a few minutes, when Tom’s phone lit up.

“Do you mind if I chill here for a while? I’ll stay on the couch if you want to go to sleep, but Harrison just said him and Emily want some alone time and her roommate is home.”

“Of course, I don’t mind.” You responded. You stumbled off the bed, going to pour yourself another drink.

“Ok, Y/N.” Tom said, moving so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “Truth or dare?” You turned to look at him and saw a dark look in his brown eyes.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

#tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #frat!tom

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fluidityandgiggles · 5 years

Text

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 16

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Chapter 10, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): I realize it took me way too long to do this, but I can explain. Uhh...

So for those of you who don’t know, I haven’t been home since September, and I won’t be home for another... two weeks, more or less? I’ve been to places where I couldn’t know if I’d have working wifi or any wifi at all so updating this fic has been a mission. So I do whatever I can to update at reasonable times.

With that being said, I finished this chapter way back last month while on a two week long trek in Nepal and haven’t had the opportunity to upload it, so I’m grateful I can now. Because this one... was a hell of an exposition ride for a lot of shit I planned a long long time ago.

Quick disclaimer - some bits of this chapter deal with the definition of transgender, and a specific learning disorder. The definition of transgender mentioned in this chapter has been taken from the DSM-IV-TR, which is a defunct edition of the DSM that came out in the year 2000 and has been replaced by the DSM-5 in 2013. The definition has since been changed and separated, and I believe it is now called gender dysphoria, though I’m not quite sure. But it does not reflect my opinions on how dysphoria is related to being trans, I do believe (and have several sources to back me up, including the DSM-5) that you don’t have to be dysphoric to be trans. The same goes for this learning disorder, what is said in this chapter reflects only the way the characters think of it - and it will change later on, I can assure you - and not at all what I would think or say about it.

As is tradition, thanks to @whatwashernameagain for KHS and for all her patience with me and my shenanigans (and not getting frustrated with my stupid ideas) and to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for the original idea and for giving me the best commentary for my screenshots when I send them. And also to @winglessnymph , @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl , who have fallen out of the loop but are still there. I know I haven’t sent you anything much in recent days, but... still.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @sweet-and-sour-shadowling, @ilovemygaydad, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery, @book-of-charlie, @thatsanswitch, @thatrandomautist, @thebiggestgaypirate, @marshmallow-the-panda

(Wanna be tagged? Lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter also includes (rather controversial) opinions/ideas about the definition of transgender (as mentioned in a now-defunct, but then the most recent, edition of the DSM), discussion of abortion, mentions of past self-harm, discussion of personality disorders and hospitalization, panic attacks, and description of rejection sensitive dysphoria. I’m pretty sure I forgot something though, so let me know if I have so I can add it.

—————

Friday, May 30th, 2003

"...your valedictorian, Jenna Miranda Wheeler."

"Class of 2003…"

New York was beautiful in May.

Sadly, that was not where Remy was heading today.

According to Linda, Stephen was going to go on a business trip for at least two weeks in June, starting late May. So Remy was invited over for the summer. Not his first choice, but Leah begged him to come and Emile said that it might be a good idea. But…

Spending more than a day at Linda's, combined with the knowledge that Jenna and India have graduated just a few days ago and Chris hasn't, was a good enough reason for Remy to feel shitty. And he did.

The main upside was that Georgia was beautiful in May too.

He managed to cheer himself up somewhat by thinking of the good things that happened this month - Emile's TOVA results (9/9 inattentive symptoms, 4/9 hyperactive-impulsive, definitely has inattentive type ADHD), India's name being called at graduation instead of her deadname, Jenna graduating valedictorian, his friends moving to Virginia and so on - by the time the taxi from the airport pulled up in front of the, by now, rather familiar house.

And then his stomach dropped.

Stephen was still there.

"Do you need help with those bags, Rebecca?" He asked, eyeing the massive, neon pink duffel bag and the incredibly heavy purple backpack that sat on the sidewalk near Remy as he tapped his foot nervously.

"Not from you I don't. Thanks for the offer, but… no thanks."

He was too proud to admit that the duffel was too heavy for him to lift and he could barely drag it, but he packed most of his clothes and books in it. Some were mailed home. But not most.

"That shit gotta be heavy as fuck—"

"I said, no thank you. Now, move out of my fucking way."

Leah was napping by the time he finally dragged everything inside, but Rachel was doodling in the living room, smiling brightly when she saw him come through the door. She abandoned her crayons and waddled all the way to hug him.

As much as he barely knew her, Remy definitely loved Rachel too.

"I'm going to daycare," she mumbled somewhat, trying to use words she didn't quite know yet. "You have to come!"

"You're such a big girl!" He ruffled her pigtails, picking her up. She was so light for a two-year old. "Going to daycare already?"

"Mmhm."

"I'm so proud of you!"

She just hugged his neck and babbled on about her friends and daycare, her hand flying and her almost falling from his hold. This was another happy thing to add to the list.

He wasn't happy. But this was happy. For now.

—————

Stephen left on his business trip at around seven thirty, and Remy took a huge sigh of relief. Leah also woke up from her nap a few hours earlier, all grumpy and upset for some reason, and Remy tried talking her into telling him why she was so upset.

Linda said it was because of the nap. Leah only got even more upset.

"Why am I here?" Remy asked during dinner, while Leah entertained herself (and he was sure she didn't notice much) and Rachel was almost dozing off. "We haven't had a single good interaction since I was five years old, Linda."

"Am I no longer allowed to want to be around my son, Remy?" She stung back, looking anything but as aggressive as she just sounded.

"I'll be honest with you, kid. I know you don't like me. I can understand why. But what I don't understand is why you're bringing this up in front of your younger sisters. They're too young for this to—"

"I saw a movie about penguins on TV," Leah started rambling. "They're really weird…"

The argument stopped just as quickly as it started, and Leah was allowed to go on and on about penguins bringing rocks to each other. So he proceeded to just glare at Linda, who helped Rachel eat her pasta. This was awful, this was absolutely the worst situation he could've found himself in, and… he just wanted out.

And he kept wanting out even as Rachel already went to sleep, Leah was busy doing her homework last minute, and Linda asked Remy to help her clean up.

"I'm only here because Leah asked me to," he almost hissed as he was tasked with packing the leftovers in incredibly familiar tupperware containers.

"I want to spend more time with you, Remy. I'm still your mother—"

"Well, you haven't acted like it, like, ever!"

Linda sighed, putting the plate she was holding in the dishwasher. "I don't want to sound like I'm making any excuses—"

"So don't make any."

"—but I was barely your age when I had you. This is no excuse, I'm not trying to say that I had no idea what I was doing because of that, but I sacrificed so much of my life to raise you!"

"You could've aborted me! You could've been smart and used protection in the first place!"

"Condoms aren't a fail-proof—"

"Face it, Linda. You never wanted me. You're not homophobic or transphobic for the sake of it, it's clear you have at least some level of respect to queer people. You just never wanted me in the first place."

The next plate she was holding broke in the sink. "How fucking dare you say that?!"

"I'm just saying—"

"I have never wanted something in my life more than I wanted you!" Her screams hurt Remy's ears, going as far as to make Leah cry in the other room. Linda immediately lowered her voice. "I know I've been a bad mother to you. I regret every decision I've ever made while I was married to your father, except being married to him and having you. And I've spent every day since leaving you and your father regretting my decisions, and wanting to make it up to you, but you kept pushing me away. How do you think that makes me feel, huh? Do you still think you're the only one who's been robbed of something in this relationship?"

"...you had Leah while you were still married to Dad" was all he could say. And he hoped he'd have the last word. "Was she a mistake too?"

Sadly, you can't always get what you want.

"Leah… is problematic. But she wasn't a mistake either. None of you are, and you can stop saying that. Whatever is wrong with her does not make her a mistake. Just as your gender identity disorder does not make you a mistake."

"No, you're right. It doesn't. It makes me transgender. A female-to-male man. You know those terms? Female to male, transgender? It's what people call it nowadays."

There was another long moment of silence as Linda cleaned up the broken plate and Remy finished packing up the leftovers, and Leah stopped crying.

It was a stressful silence. Very typical of home life with Linda Brigham-Hollander.

"...you may not have come at a time I liked," she sighed after everything, falling into a chair. Remy was ready to leave the kitchen, but this wouldn't let him. "I know we could've… waited a few more years. But you came when you did, and I don't regret that. You were never a mistake. I may have a hard time understanding… what… your identity. I'm trying my best to educate myself now, you know—"

"That's almost five years too late."

"I don't know what Leah told you about her school life, but whatever hardships she got understanding stuff—"

"She has no trouble understanding stuff as far as I can see—"

"Educational stuff. School material. She got that from me. Education comes harder for me, you may not know that. I was never the brightest student and I only completed my high school diploma when you were three years old. Don't get me wrong, this has nothing to do with you. But I couldn't learn when you asked me to. It felt like—"

"Linda, it didn't take Dad five years to be able to call me by my name and use the correct pronouns. Even if you don't mean it this way, this is bullshit to me. And I hope you get it."

And then he got up and left, leaving her to her own. If she cried, well… that's none of his business.

—————

Sunday, June 8th, 2003

Nathalie and Emile were getting ready for the Tony awards when Emile had a panic attack.

No, that's not true. Emile has been having panic attacks all week long for some weird reason he couldn't explain, most likely not being able to talk to Remy all week long since his phone died and he couldn't get a new one just yet. But today was the worst one. So Julie lent him her phone for a call, to explain himself so he won't panic so much, but…

But Remy wouldn't understand. He'd be mad if Emile tried to call him from Julie's phone because of some panic attacks… and then he'd hate him, and then… and then…

Then he wouldn't have a best friend anymore…

What was India's phone number again…?

She picked up on the fourth ring. "India McGinty—"

"It's Emile," he almost sobbed the second she picked up. "I… I have a question…"

"Oh, honey, of course. What is it?"

"Do you think Remy would hate me…? My phone died and I can't get another one until next week and—"

"Emile, are you… are you crying right now?"

"No… I did before, I just…"

She sighed before clearing her throat. That's it, she hates him too—

"Do you mind if I pass you over to Jenna? She's better at this than me."

"...okay…"

"...Emile?" Jenna's voice was softer than India's somehow. She'd never raise her voice, but Emile was scared of the people who'd be there when she does once she becomes a lawyer. "Can you please explain what's going on?"

"Well… my phone died, and I can't tell Remy because he's with his mom and I don't wanna call him while he's with his mom, so I'm scared that if I don't talk to him all summer he'll hate me and then he won't talk to me anymore and I can't—"

"Let's slow down, you're only upsetting yourself. Remy is your best friend, right?"

"Yeah… I mean, I like him a bit more but, but it's not like I can just tell him that, and…"

"That's fine, we're not gonna focus on this for now. That's for another time. But he's your best friend, right?"

"Yeah, I just told you!"

"So why would he hate you for something like that? He's going to understand, I'm sure."

"I don't… know… it just feels like he might…"

"I know. This feeling fucking sucks, doesn't it?" She chuckled. Emile couldn't answer to that. He just… he couldn't. "But it's not healthy to dwell on this feeling. It might become a self-fulfilling prophecy if you fret about it so much."

"What do you mean…?"

"...have I ever told you that I was institutionalized until my second year of college?"

He couldn't stop his jaw from dropping. "No…"

"Okay. So I'll tell you now. I… how squeamish are you? I don't want to… trigger anything…"

"I don't know… I don't… I don't think I really mind much…?"

"Okay, I… I'll censor it anyway. Is that okay with you?"

"Yeah."

"So when I was fourteen, I started harming myself. It's not… it was what you'd think, but not for the most part. I didn't cut really. But my parents knew, and they gave a ton of fucks and not just because they had a reputation to uphold like I thought they did back then. They just… they gave all the fucks."

"Okay… I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Don't apologize, you had no part in this. And you never will. I promise."

"Okay."

"Two years after I started, my parents sent me to a psych ward. At that time they thought I was depressed, it was too early to diagnose me properly, so… I've lived for three years on doses of antidepressants that didn't do a whole lot, because nobody knew. I was finally diagnosed with borderline personality disorder when I was nineteen, my medication prescription was fixed and I was let out of there when they decided I'm doing well enough to be able to live on my own again. I spent my first year of law school with a nurse attached to my hip, can you imagine?" She laughed, and Emile struggled to hold back a smile.

"Actually yeah… my sister is narcoleptic…"

"Oh shoot, sorry… didn't mean that. Anyway… back to the topic at hand, yeah? I was… infatuated, for a lack of a better word, with this guy. His name was David. I thought I was in love with him, but it turned out I idolized him to a point where he became my favorite person, and that was an incredibly toxic experience. He was like… like Angelina Jolie in Girl, Interrupted. But dialed up to eleven. He was a fucking asshole and I haven't seen him in years… he was transferred to another place after an incident that involved one of my friends, she ended up almost killing herself because of this guy. And my anxiety over being perfect for him, over making him like me and making sure that he keeps liking me, made me extremely unhealthy in the long run."

There was a pause, possibly for Emile to process. Most likely. This wasn't fair… this was totally not fair! Why did good people have to go through shitty things?

"My next favorite person after him was a girl I dated for a couple months before India." Jenna sounded kind of breathless at that, as if she was crying herself. "And… she made me talk to her. She asked me questions for clarification all the time and helped me with my anxiety, especially when I felt like this. I was tiring, but… it's the effort she put into this that counted. Emile… you gotta talk to Remy."

"But… but I can't…"

"Who said? Communication is key. I know it might be really hard, especially for you, but… call him. It's his birthday soon, right? In July?"

"Yeah…"

"Call him. Write down everything you want to tell him and tell him then. I promise it'll make your anxiety a lot easier to manage."

————

"Remy," Linda called from the living room as he was heading to bed. This was becoming ridiculous…

"I told you, I'm not talking to you for the rest of this—"

"I can't read a single word in this cursed book of yours."

"...what book?"

"This DSM thing. Remy, darling, why do you need this book? It's so difficult to understand, couldn't they have written better books about this?"

He ended up not going to bed after all, instead resorting to making himself tea and going to sit on the couch next to her.

"Mom, that's… that's the diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders, mom. It's existed since the fifties. This is the revised version. They can't make it simpler to understand, I don't think."

"Well, your grandma's always said that if a child can't understand what's written, it's because the writer is bad at what they're doing."

"And so have a lot of my professors, but sadly this is what we have to work with. What's so confusing anyway?"

"I was trying to read about your… your thing, the gender identity disorder thing…" she turned the book to him. The passages in this section have been highlighted the day he bought the book and he knew them by heart. Well, for the most part. "I'm sorry, but the words are just… long and confusing."

"...that's fine… it's totally fine, I can… I can simplify it for you…"

"I don't need you to simplify it for me, I know English. I just… I can't read this! Big and confusing academic paper words."

Oh fuck…

"I'm a painter, not an academic, Remy. I can't read. You know this. You've known this forever."

"I forgot you're dyslexic…"

"And what does forgetting that help you?"

"Nothing… let's… let's go over this together, okay? The sections that apply to me." He waited for Linda to nod, rather reluctantly, before putting on his own pair of reading glasses.

"So, to diagnose someone with gender identity disorder there are two criteria, identifying with the opposite gender and feeling dysphoria. In order to meet those criteria, you gotta not be intersex, which I think is pretty stupid, and also it has to affect your daily life."

"Yeah, I know that. Your shrink told us that when you were fourteen. Let's move on, okay?"

"...okay. In boys, aka trans girls, this doesn't apply to me… okay. Girls with GID, aka trans boys, display a intense negative reactions to parental expectations, blah blah blah, you never had any expectations of me so this doesn't apply…"

"No no no no no, you will read this out. No skipping."

"Okay, fine! Girls with GID display intense negative reactions to parental expectations or attempts to have them wear dresses or other feminine attire. Some may refuse to attend school or social events where such clothes may be required... They prefer boy's clothing and short hair, are often misidentified by strangers as boys, and may ask to be called a boy's name. Reminds you of something?"

"...go on."

"Their fantasy heroes, yeah no, I never had fantasy heroes…"

"You had She-Ra."

"Yeah, but she made me gay, not trans, mom. Prefer boys as playmates, contact sports… yeah, none of that either…"

"You used to play soccer as a kid. Your dad has a lot of pictures of that, you know."

"I… didn't actually know that… huh."

"You didn't learn to kick a ball from your father, though. I'll tell you that."

It took a bit of time for Remy to stop himself from giggling, deciding to sip his tea instead. It didn't work very well.

"Yeah… well… moving on, ‘they show little interest in dolls or any form of feminine dress up or role-play activity. A girl with this disorder may occasionally refuse to urinate in a sitting position. She may claim that she has or will grow a penis and may not want to grow breasts or menstruate. She may assert that she will grow up to be a man. Such girls typically reveal marked cross-gender identification in role-play, dreams and fantasies.' Does any of this sound familiar, mom? Because I don't… I don't actually know."

"Until now… yeah. All of that sounds incredibly familiar. Look, I…"

"I know what's you're gonna say, and please don't. It's fine. I know you panicked, I know you said things you didn't mean to, but… can we leave that for now? That's a bridge we're gonna deal with later. Now, adults with GID…"

They ended up staying up for far longer than either of them wanted to, but it was alright. Linda wanted to learn. Remy was willing to teach her.

They only barely made it to bed at three in the morning, the page bookmarked for tomorrow, when they'll continue reading.

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: mental health discussion #tw: invalid/defunct definition of transgender #tw: discussion of abortion #tw: mentions of self-harm #tw: personality disorders #tw: hospitalization #tw: panic attacks #tw: rejection sensitive dysphoria #wow this is a long one

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