#plus he threw in my face that HES been through trauma and he was just SHARING his childhood with his KIDS

[voulezloux]

.

[bonkhrnyjail]

sweet plum | chapter six

masterlist | pinterest | spotify playlist

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

summary: the last of us wrap party is tonight, and the tension between you and pedro can no longer be ignored…

rating: mature (will become explicit in future chapters)

warnings: alcohol consumption, mild sexual content

a/n: THANK U GUYS FOR THE LOVE ON CHAPTER FIVE omg. i’m kicking myself for not posting this fic on tumblr sooner! pls enjoy chapter six and feel free to not analyze what our lovely reader’s actions might say about me as an author or my relationship to conflict <3 love y’all.

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You’ve been avoiding Pedro like the fucking plague.

Sixty missed calls. Even twenty texts, and off the top of your head you can't remember the last time he actually texted you. The calls became less frequent as the weeks passed, but he still tries at least once every day. You silence them every time.

The day you kissed him, he tried to call you ten times in a row, unbeknownst to you. You had thrown your phone across the living room the second you made it through the door and laid completely catatonic on your bed until your roommate got home.

“Babe, you’ll never guess who I saw last night— Are you good?” she inquired nonchalantly as she entered your room to find you face down in your mound of stuffed animals.

Droplets began to prickle the corners of your eyes as you let out a muffled groan in response. Your mouth wasn’t capable of words, the fat, dry lump in your throat stubborn and unyielding, forcing you to clench your teeth around nothing. A hand landed softly on your shoulder.

“Woah, hey,” she started to rub your arm up and down as a full body sob rippled through you. "Talk to me."

You looked up at her, tears rolling fast and hot down the apples of your cheeks, and threw yourself into her chest.

“I- I- I did something st-stupid,” you managed between sobs. 

“I’m sure it wasn’t that bad,” she tried to reassure you gently, smoothing down your hair. “Unless you accidentally shaved some of Pedro’s hair off or something. I’m sure he’d forgive you anyways, though.”

You tried to form words against the sobs clawing their way out of your chest.

“Bad, Abby. Like, r-really bad.”

“Well shit. What’s the damage?” she spoke somewhat brashly, which was nothing new when it came to her attempts at being gentle. “Do I have to kill somebody? ‘Cause I will, I've been playing a lot of first person shooter, I can handle it.”

Laughter overtook your cries, although whatever sounds were coming from your throat were a horrifying mixture of both. Abby chuckled at the sound. You continued like that for a while, laughing and crying and laughing again, until the tears finally stopped.

“Can you tell me what happened?” she blurted as a soberness enveloped her tone. “I’m sure I can come up with a solution. You know I’m crafty.”

“Do you know how to erase memories?” you mumbled as you sat up straight. “That’s the only solution I can think of.”

“No… but I own a bat. Blunt force trauma is a pretty surefire solution.”

“Jesus… not to Pedro.”

“Did you, like, shit yourself or something?” she blundered, immediately biting down on her lip after the words left her mouth. “Sorry, no, this is serious. Serious time.”

You let out a gargantuan sigh as you stared fervently into your lap.

“... I kissed him.”

“You WHAT?” she grabbed your shoulders and shook you aggressively. “YOU WHAT?!”

“I—”

“WHAT? HOW? WHEN?” she shrieked, piercing the hell out of your eardrums.

“I kissed him, on the lips, on the doorstep.” 

“ON THE DOORSTEP?!” she flailed her arms, slapping your shoulders in the process. “AND I MISSED IT?!”

“You’re hurting me.”

“WAS IT GOOD? IS HE A GOOD KISSER?”

“Can we use our inside voices?”

“FUCK— ok, sorry,” she mellowed, blowing air through raspberried lips. “Why are you so upset? I thought you wanted this to happen!”

“I... I did. And didn’t. It’s complicated,” you babbled through your frustration. “I just… kissed him. I didn’t think, or ask, and I can’t take it back.”

“Well, did he kiss you back?”

“Uh… I...” you muttered hesitantly. "I think so."

Abby sprung from your bed, squealing and dancing as her fists punched awkwardly into the air. The sight alone made you cackle.

“OK- so, what happened after that? Did he confess his love to you?” 

“Jesus christ… no, that’s not what happened,” you groaned. “I sorta... ran away.”

“You WHAT?!”

“Oh god, please don’t kill me,” you whined. “I didn’t know what to do, I only realized what I had done after I had done it and I fuckin' panicked. He tried to grab my hand but I ran inside as fast as I could.”

“Dude, you have got to be kidding me,” her tone went flat, eyes laced with disappointment. “Where's your phone?”

“I don’t know, I threw it across the living room when I got up here. I was kinda freaking out.”

Abby immediately jumped off of the bed and started toward the door to your room, despite your insistent pleas to leave it be. She came storming back inside moments later.

“10 missed calls. 10 MISSED CALLS,” she pointed aggressively to your lock screen displaying the missed notifications. “Look, he even texted you.”

You snatched the phone out of her hand, shoving it under your pillow. “I can’t… I can’t right now.”

“If he didn’t want this, he wouldn’t call you that many times, and he definitely wouldn't have kissed you back," she trailed off for a moment, some sort of realization sparking behind her eyes. "Wait, did he get you those flowers on the kitchen counter?”

“I- yes. Just because I helped him out today last minute.”

“No, not because you helped him out last minute. Flowers from a man mean one of three things. Number one, congrats. Number two, condolences. And number three, please have sex with me.”

“Jesus,” you giggled. “And what does it mean if he brought me a coffee too?”

“Your usual?”

“...Yes.”

“Please have sex with me and be my wife forever and ever.”

You rolled your eyes and flopped back into your pillows, covering your face with your hands and groaning. Abby sat with you for a while, but eventually gave up, knowing damn well that you're to stubborn and you'd make your own decisions regarding the whole situation. She knew she never stood a chance to change your mind anyways.

The days passed, slowly at first, but eventually you found your way back to a steady rhythm. You went to work, saw your friends, read a lot, and spent practically zero time on your phone. Impressive how avoidance managed to cure your social media addiction. 

You'd pushed it out of your head that you’d have to see Pedro in a few weeks. Then the weeks turned to a week, then to a few days, then to a day.

You woke up this morning and it all came crashing down.

The wrap party is tonight. Then the premiere tomorrow. Everyone is going. You couldn’t get away with skipping it if you tried. Bella would probably storm into your apartment and drag you out by the hair.

You haven’t even told Bella about the kiss.

You end up lying in bed for hours, watching video after video on Youtube to silence your racing thoughts. You had set an alarm on your phone earlier to remind you when to start getting ready, and it frightens the hell out of you, jolting you from a groggy haze of half-sleep. You curse under your breath and roll lazily onto your feet, your blankets crumpling to a pathetic-looking pile on the floor. 

You power up your speaker and choose some music, an upbeat and catchy playlist to try and redirect your energy. The upside in all of this is that you can get all dolled up. It gives you an excuse for extensive self-pampering and wearing outfits that mostly collect dust in your closet. 

An everything shower is an understatement of what you have planned. You have your products lined up, various scrubs, masks, body washes, etc, and a fresh razor sitting right beside them. You crank the faucet on, just a hair below the boiling point, and step into the tub.

The steam coats your lungs as you inhale deep, the sudden sensation of the water colliding with your skin sending a stark chill down your body. As you close your eyes, leaning your head back and letting your hair fall into the steady stream, your focus slips to a corner of your mind, the pesky corner that you've tried desperately to keep locked away. Because once the thoughts start, it’s damn near impossible to wrangle them back in.

The fantasy is vivid. You can almost feel Pedro’s hands in your hair, massaging shampoo slowly and intentionally from behind you. He’s close, his bare body pressed to your back, his skin hot and pulsing against yours. He leans you back to rinse the product from your hair, pressing a small kiss to your forehead as he squeezes your shoulder softly. 

“Mmmm,” he hums, trailing languid, open-mouth kisses across your cheek and down your neck. “My sweet plum.”

A faint voice in the back of your mind is shouting wildly, trying to stop the scene from playing out in your head, but it's not enough to break through the noise.

He runs his hands down the front of your body, gently tracing your curves and valleys, finger-painting your skin with adoration. Your head falls back into him as his kisses grow deeper, longer, more desperate, him hardening against you as his gentle caresses turn to needy grasps. 

“Let me… please,” you whisper into his ear, snaking your hand behind you and running your palm against the underside of his shaft. His body presses harder into yours as he lets out a soft grunt of approval directly in your ear, the vibration of it surging straight to your core.

A jolt of cold water shocks your body, tearing you from your fantasy. You come to and find yourself leaning against the wall of the shower, your ass having knocked the knob to the coldest setting. 

“Christ,” you mutter under your breath, cranking the control back to where it was and reaching for your overpriced shampoo bottle. 

You go through the motions of the rest of your shower, losing yourself in the music and singing along as you always do. Shower concerts have been your most recent replacement for the therapy that you can't quite afford.

You paint your toes, your leg hoisted up precariously on the counter and torso bent over to reach as your fuzzy robe dangles from your hips. You choose an eggplant purple, matching the accents in your dress. The press-ons that you found are a damn-near perfect match to this color, with a swirling design decorating the tips of the almond shape. 

The dress is more of a dainty feminine than you typically go for. You generally gravitate towards sultry colors and styles, but the cut of this dress instantly drew your attention. A plunging neckline with miniscule gold buttons decorating the front. Beneath the bust, a sheer panel with corset boning outlines the waist, and the remainder of the skirt flows heavily, the hem sitting perfectly at your ankles. It reminds you of a Free People style dress, but in your size. Hallelujah.

With a feel-good playlist booming through your speaker, your makeup goes on quick and easy. A thick, black wing smoked out with a deep purple and a subtle, black cherry sheer lip. Everything else you keep fairly light and natural, letting the boldness of the eye do the talking.

You pull your hair up into a bun, making sure the dress is the center of attention. You leave a few, short pieces out and curl them, creating the sense of a haphazard version of a Victorian era updo. After donning some simple gold jewelry and your Mary Janes, the outfit is complete. You throw on an oversized brown blazer just to keep you warm, but you’ll likely take it off the moment you get to the party.

Your uber arrives moments later, somehow exactly as you descend the stairs outside your building. Your driver, an older man named Mario, gets out and shakes your hand as he introduces himself and his very nice BMW named Maria.

You've never met anyone quite this aggressively Italian.

The good-natured man even asks if you'd like to pick the music for the ride. You choose something that you hope the both of you will like: ABBA.

“This was popular when I was your age!” he gushes, the gravel and rasp in his voice more audible than the actual pitch. 

“ABBA is absolutely timeless,” you chime, adding a few more songs to the queue.

You chat the whole ride there, his jovial presence somehow working away some of the knots of anxiety in your stomach. He asks all about your work, thankfully steering clear of who you work with, and even prodding you for styling tips for his “thick and unruly” curls. 

He pulls up to the entrance, stopping near a hoard of your coworkers from the crew crowded amongst the steps to the double doors. You exchange goodbyes with Mario and slide out of the car into the brisk air, your blazer draped over your shoulders and doing a very ineffective job of retaining any of your body heat. You hear a shriek of joy emerge from the blob of people in front of you, followed by your name in the same cadence. Most of the heads you can see turn to face you, arms reaching out for hugs and smiles as far as you can see. 

You’re going to make this a good night. No matter what.

.   .   .   .   .

It’s significantly warmer inside the venue, so you decided to drop your jacket at the coat check. It’s much more crowded than you expected, but then again, everyone was invited. Some of your friends from makeup even made the trip from New York to be here. Since you’ve never been to one of these before, jokes keep getting thrown around along the lines of “Baby’s first wrap party!" and you losing your wrap party virginity. The group dynamics from the days on set settle right back into a rhythm, your place as the baby of the group still yours for the taking. You don’t mind the coddling, as it seems to help keep your mind off of the inevitable. 

There’s a slurry of waiters dipping and dodging amongst clusters of bodies, hors d'oeuvres and drinks displayed gorgeously on shiny golden platters. Someone’s arm is dragging you towards the open bar across the dance floor, where a herd has already begun to form. A slew of voices and faces pass you by as you travel swiftly through the crowd, and you’re unable to make out anything distinct amongst the clamor.

Until you hear his voice.

That familiar boom of laughter, crisp and thunderous, crystal clear amongst the hundreds of noises up against it. You immediately whip your head around to locate the source, forgetting your hand is in the grips of your friend and nearly snapping her limb off in the process. She lunges forward into you, nearly knocking your hors d’oeuvres plate from your hand and garnering the attention of several people surrounding you.

You somehow stumble back to balance and a very attentive waiter quickly swipes the mostly finished plate from your hands. The swiftness of everything is making you dizzy, sounds and sights swirling in the warm glow of the gorgeous chandelier decorating the space above you. With every turn of your head, the crowd in front of you shifts to blurry outlines of colors and shapes, like ink bleeding from the hard lines where people should begin and end. 

Suddenly you feel arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing your organs to a pulp.

“Who-” you look down to see two small hands with black painted nails. “Is that my Bellie?”

A head pops into your peripheral with a wide, toothy smile. You let out a little shriek as your arms envelop them and squeeze, lifting them off the ground a bit with the sheer force of it.

“I missed you so much—'' you pause, taking in their presence once more. “Look at you! You look amazing!”

“I look amazing?” They toy gently with the skirt of your dress. “You look amazing!”

You embrace once more, the excitement of seeing them in person completely overriding your ability to control the gleeful noises escaping your body. They pull away, your hands still gripping each other’s elbows.

“Have you seen P? I know he’s already here,” they pull their phone out of their back pocket, his location pulled up on Find My Friends. 

“Oh, uh… I— I haven’t yet,” you hear your voice quickly morph into a downbeat tone against your will. 

“Uh oh,” they blurt. “Why is your face doing that? Did something happen?”

“I- uh…” you stumble over a sad attempt at words, muttering unintelligible syllables. “Well—”

Your train of thought comes to a screeching halt as he appears through a sliver in the crowd.

And, god, he looks handsome as ever. A nice, nice white suit clings ever so perfectly to his muscular, statuesque frame. The collar is folded neatly against his strong, thick neck, a few subtle veins protruding softly from his caramel skin. His dimples are on full display as he throws his head back with laughter, the little heart-shaped patch in his beard perfectly prominent. 

Bella follows your gaze until they see him. They call out his name and wave him down on their tiptoes. He immediately clocks the voice, and you watch as the small smile on his face spreads to a wide grin. He excuses himself from his current conversation and starts towards your direction.

Your stomach drops. You quickly survey around you to find that there is no clear escape, there are clusters of people surrounding you on each side and no pockets that you could gracefully slip into to weave your way through the crowd. For better or worse, you’re trapped.

He quickly scoops Bella into a bear hug, his arms enveloping their small frame in it's entirety. He spins them around, their feet dangling, hovering just above the floor. You stand there, frozen, little bunches of your dress clumped up in your tight, fidgeting fists. The fabric rolls between your thumb and forefinger, a haphazard attempt at soothing the anxiety surging through your veins.

It takes him a minute to acknowledge your presence, and with every second that passes, your urge to bolt revs in your belly.

Once his gaze meets yours, a soft, forgiving smile paints across his lips. You force the corners of your mouth upwards, attempting to create what hopefully appears like an expression of joy. Hopefully.

“Hi.”

It comes out more like a sigh when he says it, like it’s been pounding at his chest, just waiting to be released. His hand lays flat on his abdomen as he taps his pointer finger repeatedly. The muscles in his neck flex, creating movement in the collar of his shirt.

He’s nervous. You know him well enough to know that, and you know you’re likely not hiding your true state very well either. He knows you just as well.

You try to respond.  The air you've been holding prisoner in your lungs tumbles out, catching in your throat.  A feeble, "H-hi," is all you can manage.

“You look…” his eyes wander your body, your face, your hair, his lips parted ever so slightly. “You look lovely.”

The statement reverberates in your mind until you hear a distant call of your name. A quick turn of your head finds your favorite hairstylist waving you down.

“I—” you swallow and start over. “Thank you. Thanks. I—, sorry, I gotta—” you motion toward your destination with your thumb before decidedly turning and slipping through the crowd, a copious amount of polite little statements slipping off your tongue in order to get out of sight and away from him.

.   .   .   .   .

“So… what the fuck was that?” Bella states gruffly, sitting opposite of you at a small high top table, tucked away in a quieter room off of the main ballroom. “That was, like, painful.”

You let out a small groan, knowing you’d have to tell them at some point, but dissenting the fact that the time for that confession seems to be right this very second.

“I kinda… I fucked things up between us.”

“I doubt that,” they say reassuringly.

“No, seriously, I—” you stop yourself mid-sentence to catch your breath. “I kissed him, Bel.”

They let out a satisfied chuckle.

“Well thank god. It’s about goddamn time.”

“No, no you don’t understand,” you babble. “I kissed him without thinking, realized what I did, and ran.”

“Ohhhh my g—” they blow a raspberry. “Ok. Well. When was this?”

“Like… a month ago?”

“A month?!”

“I haven’t spoken to him since.”

“Jesus christ… I’m assuming he’s tried to call you, yes?”

“Pretty much every single day since it happened,” your words come out more sigh than pitch.

Bella rubs their temples, an incomprehensible expression on their face.

“Gosh, it feels like mom and dad are fighting.”

That makes you snort laugh, to your own surprise.

“Well clearly he’s not angry at you. And you can’t avoid him forever,” they reason, their bluntness somehow comforting, unraveling the little knot sitting in your gut. “I wish you two would just put all your cards on the table. Worst comes to worst, things don’t work out.”

“I just really don’t want to lose him, Bellie,” you mumble into your drink.

“You will if you don’t talk to him,” they quip right back, eyes stern and decided.

You know they’re right. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you know.

“I’ll talk to him. Tomorrow. Tonight is supposed to be fun.”

“Fair enough. Now, come dance with me.” they hop to their feet and extend a hand.

You take it with a smile, and within a mere second they’re whisking you towards the dance floor.

.   .   .   .   .

You’ve had 3 drinks. Three strong drinks. On a stomach with only a few bite sized hors d'oeuvres to soak up the copious amount of gin in your system. 

And it’s helping, sure. Helping you forget momentarily that Pedro is probably within 100 feet of you at any given moment. Helping your breath move in and out the way it’s supposed to, without catching on threads of worry webbed inside your lungs. Helping to loosen the knots that riddled your body when you got here.

But it’s also making you dizzy. 

Dizzy enough that you’re not quite sure when you end and others begin. It’s all lights and laughter and limbs, filling your senses to the brim. The corners of your vision have a little haze to them, a haze that’s starting to grow inward.

You stumble your way out of the hoard, searching for the nearest corner to tuck yourself away in for a moment. A friend hollers after you, asking if you’re alright.

“I’m good! Just got the spins,” you reassure her. “I’ll be back.”

A little awning reveals itself to you in a narrow sightline through the crowd. You follow the slender gap without a second thought. Once you reach the end, you find a dimly lit hallway with an emergency exit sign illuminating a sturdy black door. You steady yourself on a railing and lean your weight into the wall, your head bowed slightly and shoulders rounded.

The pattern on the carpet sways in your vision as you let yourself hang for a moment, releasing tension from your upper body and pushing your feet firmly into the floor as some attempt at grounding. After a moment, you decide to take your shoes off in hopes it will inspire your body to feel more “at one with gravity”.

The sound of booming bass still accosts your ears, but more muffled now, and the sound waves flow through you, perfectly in time with the beating of your heart. It isn’t until your name is spoken the third time that you really hear it.

Your eyes shoot up to find Pedro, a worried, scrunched brow on his face and a bottle of water in his hand. 

“Oh- um…” you stammer. You continue to fight for the right words, any words, until he cuts you off.

“Drink this,” he twists the cap and gently places the bottle into your right hand. “I haven’t seen you take a sip of water the entire night. No wonder you’re dizzy.”

A moment of confusion clouds you, but you quickly remember that you shouted over the blaring music for all to hear of your current state. Your voice can be quite head-turning with a lack of inhibition. You obey his word and take a swig from the bottle, the crisp, cold water relentless against your sensitive teeth. The temperature is a visceral opposite to the flush of your face, causing you to furrow your brow slightly as it travels down your esophagus. 

He lets out a chuckle as he scans your expression.

“Cold?”

You produce an affirmative grumble and try to pass the bottle to him, but he gently pushes it back towards your chest. 

“Have some more.”

Your eyes flutter under the softness of his gaze. You try to gulp down the dry seed in you throat.

“Pedro, I—”

“We don’t have to talk about it right now.”

“Bella told me I have to talk to you,” you admit, your chin tucked and stare driving into the carpet, whispering in a way that sounded more like you were reminding yourself than telling him.

It makes him laugh, releasing that sweet, boisterous sound and it's accompanying smile you missed so dearly.

“Taking orders from Bellie now, eh?”

“They can be a bit militant when push comes to shove, to be honest,” a puff of air passes through your nose as a smirk tugs at your lips, your eyes glued to the floor. "'Specially if I'm being an idiot."

You take a few more sips of water and Pedro shifts to stand beside you, kicking his foot up with his back flat against the wall. Neither of you speak, only the sounds of your breath filling the space between you. 

You both inhale at the same time, as though you are both about to speak. 

“F—sorry, y-you go,” you gulp, though your mouth is bone dry.

He lets his exhale escape through puckered lips, and you watch as his hiked up chest deflates. His hand sits flat against the first button of his suit jacket as he thumbs at the lapel.

“I’ve spent the past month in agony, you know.”

You gaze up at his face, his eyes fixed on the glint in his freshly-shined shoes. He rolls his bottom lip through his teeth nervously, the hue of the skin shifting from an off-white to a bitten pink as it’s released from the grip.

“Missing you…” he spoke softly. “Wanting to talk to you…”

Guilt spreads like a wildfire, scalding your throat.

“Pedro, I— I am so s—”

“Wanting nothing more than to kiss you again.”

The words kick the air from your lungs, your lips parting to make way as the muscles in your jaw give out entirely. He turns to face your visage, and you find his painted with an expression of pure yearning. His eyes have a sparkle to them, but not of joy. It’s more like a heat, a burning that seems almost painful to endure. The thick, inescapable tension wraps itself hermetically around your neck.

“I— You didn’t even give me a chance to kiss you back.”

Before you can even process the words, the clinking of glasses sounds in the distance. Through the muffled shouting you hear a strained attempt at organizing a drunken group photo.

“We should probably…” you floppily gesture towards the ballroom, the alcohol seemingly turning your bones a bit soft and pliable. “Can we talk about this after the party? I'd like to be a little more sober if I can help it.”

“Right, uh—” he adjusts his tie slightly, insecurely clearing his throat. “After the party. I can do that.”

“I promise,” you assure, though you’re acutely aware that he has very little reason to trust you, considering you avoided him for almost a month straight. You reach for his hand, the one that’s still fidgeting with his jacket, hopeful your touch will convey your sincerity in a way that your words can’t.

He smiles, somewhat forcibly. and offers his arm.

“Shall we?”

You make your way back to the crowd, observing with a small chuckle as a few people with phones in hand attempt to herd people left and right, trying to create some semblance of a formation. The two of you slip into the hoard easily, gliding right into a perfect little cranny to the left of the pointed cameras.

Pedro slides his arm around your waist as you pose, and you’re certain he can feel your raging pulse thumping through every vessel beneath your skin.

“Ok, now a funny one!” says one of the photographers.

You turn to each other, smiling and searching for an idea. Drunken and foolish, you take his arm and pretend to bite it. 

He lets out a hearty laugh before leaning into the “scene”, his face mocking an expression of terror. You have to stifle your giggles with an open mouth, which results in a strange, almost strangled sound escaping you. It only encourages his laughter, which encourages yours, and droplets form at the crest of your eyes as you wait for the signal to drop the pose.

“Got it!” someone blurts across the ballroom.

“Sorry about that,” you guide his arm back to his side, giving it a gentle pat into place. “These hors d'oeuvres just made me hungrier.”

You laugh at your own joke, snorting on the inhale, and you look up to see his smile, wide and gleaming, the bounciest part of his cheeks sporting a salmon-pink hue. 

A distant voice calls for Pedro, hollering something about an actors-only picture, and he turns his head to find the source. You grab his hand before he starts towards them.

“Call me, ok? After the party,” you gently squeeze at his wrist. “I promise I’ll answer this time.”

He nods, his sickly sweet smile punctuated with picture-perfect dimples. He turns his back to you and weaves his way through the crowd. 

.   .   .   .   .

You finally made your way out of the coat check line after a grueling twenty minutes of needing to pee but not wanting to give up your spot in line. You’re standing outside the entrance now, the brisk air nipping at your bare ankles. You idly pull out your phone to find two text notifications from Pedro.

The first is an address, with a unit number. Los Angeles. You recognize the street name.

The second message reads:

I just got home. Buzz me when u get here. :) 

You almost start to skim through the unread messages he’d sent you since that night, but you’re quickly derailed by another buzz.

Pedro Pascal sent you $100. Description: for your ride.

You laugh out loud, amused by his overestimation of the price, but nevertheless stunned by his unfailing thoughtfulness. You start towards the stairs, your nerves burning and buzzing, entirely uncertain and out of control of what the evening holds.

. . . . .

[sashaisready]

The ‘You’ Problem - One Shot

Beefy!Bucky x Female!SHIELD!Reader

*bangs clipboard* ONE BED! ONE BED! ONE BED!

Guys…I threw this together today on a whim. Apologies in advance for the utterly self indulgent fluff with a bit of smut thrown in for good measure. You’ve got all my fave tropes here - one bed, forced proximity, misunderstandings and bad communication, grumpy and sunshine..

In my mind this is Beefy!Bucky (CW era Bucky) but you are of course invited to envisage your favourite Bucky. There is a slightly silly plot point about him being thicc (lmao). Reader is female, not physically described.

I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

warnings: bit’o’smut

Wordcount: around 4.4k (lol)

🛏️

You could see his face fall as he opened the door. Your eyes followed his past the safe house entrance and inside through to the open plan cabin. 

All on one floor. A small kitchenette, basic but seemingly clean at least. A cheap, plastic dining table with a few dingy chairs tucked into the far corner. A crumpled leather sofa that had seen better days. A battered old door at the rear that you assumed lead to the bathroom (you hoped, anyway). A large fireplace with a basket of logs next to it - merciful after a long trek out in the cold air. And- Oh. 

Oh. 

A double bed in the middle of the space. 

A bed. As in…singular. One. 

It didn’t take a Mathematician to work out the equation of two people plus one bed and what that equalled.

Especially when one of those people seemed particularly prickly towards the other, for reasons the other didn’t fully understand.

Tonight would be the most awkward night’s sleep of your life. 

“Great…” growled Bucky sarcastically as he reluctantly crossed the threshold, dropping the duffle bags of equipment by the fireplace.

“Hmm, homely” you chirped, hoping a joke might ease the tension. Of course he didn’t respond. 

You dropped your gaze as he began stripping his tactical gear off, piling it onto the arm of the couch. He tugged off his boots and wordlessly headed to the bathroom, the door slamming behind him.

You sighed heavily. He must’ve said ten words to you in total on this mission. The mission itself had gone well, at least. You had got the intel you needed and neither of you had been compromised in the process. You had got in and out. As a SHIELD agent you didn’t normally work with the Avengers directly in the field, but Stark and Steve had put you on this one with Bucky because of his stealth skills and your knowledge of tech and a particular comms device that was difficult to master - even for the best heroes in the biz. 

You knew them all. Well. Ish. You saw them around the tower. Helped them with surveillance and intel. Most of them were sweet and chatty, nothing like the mythical, two-dimensional hero figures the media portrayed them to be. Sure, they were brilliant at what they did but they were also warm. Flawed. Human. Steve was a sweetie, Tony was an egomaniac but he could hold a conversation at least. Nat was a great ally to have but an even better friend. Sam made you laugh like nobody else. They were your friends. 

Well. Almost all of them. 

Bucky had never really…well…warmed to you. You remember the first day Steve had introduced you both, you had eagerly outstretched your hand to shake his and you watched as his nervous eyes flitted between your hand and Steve. He finally took it reluctantly, muttering a hello as he quickly dropped your hold and stormed off. 

And that was that. You had tried to get to know him but he simply wasn’t interested. He’d only speak to you if he absolutely had to for work, grunted if you asked him something and seemed to do everything in his power to keep a wide berth between the two of you. At first you assumed it was because of what he’d been through, brainwashed assassins carrying the weight of their trauma are hardly known for their perky attitude and charismatic social skills. Maybe he just had a problem with people... 

But you soon noticed he wasn’t really like that with anyone else. Sure, he was prickly and a bit sarcastic, but he engaged. He talked. He laughed. God, you loved his laugh. Sweet. Unencumbered. Slightly dorky. It made you smile on the rare occasions you were lucky enough to hear it. 

He would squabble with Sam. Bond with Steve. Train with Nat. You thought maybe it was because you were just an agent, but he was better with the others. Always reserved, sure, but he’d chat to your SHIELD colleagues. He’d ask them for help with the tech. You were pretty sure he flirted with Emily, another agent on your team, and you couldn’t ignore the quiet thrum of jealousy in your stomach when you heard them chatting animatedly about pizza toppings or that time you caught her sliding her hand over his vibranium arm..

…no. He didn’t seem to have a people problem. Just a ‘you’ problem. 

You weren’t sure what you’d done to upset him, and you were too embarrassed to ask Steve in case you looked whiny and desperate. It wasn’t really a good look for a SHIELD agent to pathetically ask an Avenger why his friend didn’t like her. This wasn’t high school. 

You had a reputation for being a bit sunshine-y. You were always quite cheery at work, doing your best to put a brave face on and inject optimism where you could. It was just how you’d always been. It kept you going. Service with a smile. The world was a dark place, and you figured a little extra light was no bad thing. Maybe Bucky took offence to it, writing you off as a perky airhead. Maybe he’d seen too much death and destruction to see the world the way you did, and you simply annoyed him because of it. 

Only the man himself knew the real reason. You’d accepted you may never be sure. So you did your best to work with him, pretending not to notice his snarky comments and unimpressed looks. Smiling through your pain like always. Generally it was easy, you didn’t spend much time with him anyway.

…Until you were stuck on a mission with him. Waiting for the quinjet in the middle of nowhere, stuck in a tiny cabin in the dead of winter, with one bed and only the man who hated you for company. 

The man you also had a teensy bit of a crush on, too. Yes, it wasn’t ideal to crush on the one person who seemed to loathe you, but clearly you were a dumbass. 

You were rudely pulled from your thoughts by a loud spluttering and spitting noise. It took you a second to realise it must be the cabin’s creaky pipes warming up, so Bucky was showering. You did your best not to think about him all naked and soaped up and wet and-

You flung your laptop open and got to work uploading the files from the mission, sending your report over to head office and sending a quick summary to Stark. At least there was signal out here. Working is good. Only productive thoughts. No room for shower thoughts. 

You were so engrossed in your emails that you didn’t hear the bathroom door swing open behind you. 

“Bathroom’s free” said a gruff voice that made you jump in surprise.

You whipped around to face him and did your best to keep your eyes from falling out of your head when you were faced with Bucky fresh from the shower. Small water droplets ran down his chiselled chest, his long hair damp and falling in soft tendrils, a perfectly prominent ‘V’ pointing down to you-know-where, all topped off with the tiniest towel known to man clinging to his hips. The hardest working piece of fabric you’d ever seen.

You felt your face flush and nodded overly enthusiastically. 

“G-great, thanks” you mumbled.

He seemed to oblivious to your discomfort so you took that moment to dash to the bathroom yourself, leaning against the door after you’d closed it and doing your best to keep it together. You just needed to get through the night. The quinjet was coming to get you in the morning. You could do this. You could survive tiny towels and fresh soaped abs until then. 

You took your sweet time showering, ignoring the mildewy tiles and inconsistent water temperature to spend as much time hidden in the bathroom as possible. You finally admitted defeat and emerged, drying yourself with one of the threadbare towels and changing into some sweats.

“Was about to contact HQ and tell them you’d drowned in the bathroom” Bucky deadpanned as you re-entered the main cabin. He didn’t look up, his eyes locked on his phone as he laid on the bed. Bucky in bed. He was dressed in dark sweats, the fresh smell emanating from him almost intoxicating.

“I just…like to be clean after a mission” you replied, your voice slightly wobbly. 

He nodded, his eyes flickering up to yours. “Yeah, I get that” he mumbled.

This was probably the most you’d spoken to each other all afternoon. You suppressed your surprise.

“You tired?” He asked, his tone almost interrogating. He seemed wide awake. You supposed super soldiers didn’t really need as much sleep as mere mortals did. 

“Mm. A little” you responded, trying to appear nonchalant and not show how desperate you were to curl up and pass out. Not that you thought you could in such close proximity to him.

In an attempt to appear relaxed you stretched your arms and inadvertently knocked a little wooden pinecone ornament off the small side table next to you. It flew almost comically across the room, bouncing on the floor and smashing against the kitchen cabinet (thankfully remaining intact).

The silence was heavy. Bucky raised an eyebrow as you quickly scuttled and retrieved it, hastily putting it back in place. You could’ve sworn his face betrayed a sliver of amusement but it quickly moulded back to his standard-issue stoicism.

“They confirmed that the jet will be here at 0730 tomorrow” he murmured, looking back at his phone. 

The fact he hadn’t acknowledged your faux pas made it even more embarrassing. You nodded quickly and tried to ignore the sudden heat in your cheeks. 

Fortunately the evening progressed with no other embarrassments. You both had a dinner of instant noodles in silence, then spent some time separately tying up the loose ends on your respective mission duties - sending emails, debriefing Steve on the phone. You don’t think Bucky smiled even once.

Your heart thumped in your chest as it got later and darker, until you could no longer avoid the elephant in the room.

However it was Bucky who raised it, nipping it in the bud with his trademark pragmatism.

“I’ll take the couch” he said sternly. “You can have the bed”.

“Oh…thanks. But it’s okay, if you want the bed-” you started to protest but he cut you off. 

“It’s fine” he barked. 

You couldn’t deny that avoiding the awkwardness of having to share a bed was a relief, although a small part of you felt a tiny bit disappointed. 

“There’s only one blanket…” you said warily as your eyes scanned the cabin for something you may have missed…a blanket basket..a linen closet, anything…

“Don’t need one” he quickly dismissed as he laid down on his back atop the couch, wriggling his body against the cushions to get comfortable. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands over his chest. You couldn’t resist stealing a peek. He looked so angelic with his eyes closed. So much softer and sweeter than he normally did. You swallowed a gasp and quickly turned away before he caught you.

You took that as your cue to climb into the bed, shivering slightly as you pulled the shabby blanket tightly against you. The fire Bucky had lit in the fireplace earlier had finally burnt out, and you were suddenly very aware of how cold it was between these four wooden walls.

“Night” you said gently as you switched off the beside lamp, plunging the cabin into darkness.

Bucky merely grunted and you heard him roll over onto his side, the couch creaking painfully under his weight. Well, he was a big guy. 

You squeezed your eyes shut and did your best to fall asleep quickly, not wanting to think too hard about how the most handsome man you’d ever met was sleeping mere feet away from you. A braver version of you would be honest about how you really felt, using this close proximity to ask him directly what his issue with you was. An even braver version would use this opportunity to move over to the sofa and stroke his hair from his eyes and lean over and-

But you were a coward. 

You would likely never be alone with him like this ever again, and here you were wimping out and cowering in bed. Typical. 

You realised you could still hear the couch creaking. It seemed to be getting louder. That was odd. Bucky wasn’t even moving. What even was that? It sounded like…something cracking?

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud snapping sound, then a huge crash and then eventually Bucky yelling. You’re suddenly frantic, in panic mode as you immediately assumed the safe house has been compromised and the two of you had somehow been tracked. You fling yourself out of bed, grabbing the pistol you stashed by the nightstand and practically smashing the lamp switch, ready to take down whoever has broken in.

As the cabin is illuminated you’re stunned by sight in front of you. 

Bucky is laying on the floor, his face like thunder as he scowls and curses. The couch is…somehow…cut perfectly in two, sliced down the middle.

“What the…?” You stammer as you lower your gun and take in the scene. 

Bucky suddenly sits up and leans over, assessing the wreckage. 

“It’s goddam termites!!” He spits.

“Huh??” You utter, struggling to make sense of what’s going on.

“Termites!!” He yells again, angrily gesturing at where the couch has split. 

You lean in and can now see the jagged edges of the exposed wooden frame, huge holes dotted along the structure. Yep, he was right - termites. 

“They’ve clearly been eating away at this old-ass couch for some time, it must’ve finally given up” he says furiously. His vibranium fingers squeeze into a fist and he angrily punches through some of the remaining chewed-up frame.

You did your best. Truly you did. But nothing could stop the wave of laughter that bubbled out of you in that moment. The image of Bucky in a heap on the floor…the deafening crash…the ridiculous debris of the couch…the fear of intruders…it was simply all too much. You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter was a runaway train, impossible to stop. It wasn’t just the absurdity of the tableau in front of you…it was all of the tension and awkwardness that had been brewing between you and Bucky. All of your stress. The laugh was a cathartic release of all of it. 

Bucky scowled as he got to his feet. “It’s not that funny…” he muttered.

“I’m sorry..I’m sorry…” you managed to yelp as you caught your breath. “I thought…I thought we were under attack, I drew…drew my gun and everything. But it was just…just…” you inhaled sharply. “It was just…your big super soldier ass smashing up the couch”.

Bucky’s eyes widened at that. You watched the anger darken his features before the corner of his mouth rolled up into a smirk. The smirk became a smile. The smile became a grin. The grin became a laugh. He was laughing!! Bucky was actually laughing!! 

“Who you callin’ big ass?” He sneered, although the playfulness was clear as day. 

That only made you laugh harder. 

You both stood there and laughed until your eyes watered and your sides hurt, eventually running out of steam. Bucky sighed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head with disdain.

“You think they could spring for a Holiday Inn or something” he scoffed. “I know it’s slim pickings out in the middle of nowhere, but surely they could find something better than this shitbox”.

You chuckled. “Tony cheaping out I guess. But it’s kinda cosy at least…”

Bucky scoffed again. “Why do you always do that?” He said accusingly.

You frowned. “Do what?”

“Try to…put a positive spin on everything. Sometimes things just suck and that’s okay”.

You blanched, surprised. He’d never asked you anything like that before. “Well…uh…it’s just who I am I guess. Keeps me going”.

He studied you carefully. “Well…okay. But as long as you know it’s okay to just let something be shitty. You don’t always have to put on a brave face”.

Your eyes widened, surprised at the tenderness in his tone. “I’m not…putting it on. It’s just…me”.

He nodded. You realised this was your one chance. You had to take it.

“Is that why…you’re always so cold to me? You think I’m some phoney pretending the world is all sunshine and rainbows” you asked hesitantly. 

He blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting that. 

“Huh?”

“C’mon, don’t insult my intelligence, Bucky. We both know you’re not exactly my best friend” you prodded. 

He sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been kinda a jerk. I guess I’m not really used to people like you…and I don’t know how to be”.

“People like me…?”

He smirked. “Optimists”.

“Oh…”

“It’s nothing personal” he continued. “I guess with my background…I just…don’t really come across too many peppy people in our line of work. I find it hard to get my head around. But it’s my problem…not yours”.

You nodded, taken aback by his candour. “Alright…I get that. But…I haven’t ever done anything to you. And I’d like it if we could maybe say more than five words to each other over an eight hour mission…”

He grimaced. “Yeah. Look…I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair to take my issues out on you. Can we start over? Try again?” 

His voice was hopeful. He sounded genuine. You couldn’t help but feel the excitement of this new progress swirl in your tummy. 

You smiled. “Yeah. That would be good. Thanks”.

He nodded, smiling back at you. “Okay. Let’s talk more about it tomorrow…But for now we probably should get some sleep. It’s late”.

He sighed wearily and sat back on the floor, stretching out and laying on his back.

You watched this, baffled. “What…are you doing?”

He looked up at you in annoyance. “What does it look like?” He said sarcastically.

“It…looks like you’re sleeping on the hard floor with no blankets or pillows”.

“Well I can’t sleep on the broken couch can I…”

“Just get into the bed” you sighed

He sat up, eyeing you with suspicion. “What?”

“The bed. We can share. We’re both adults aren’t we? Serum or not, you’re not getting any sleep on that wooden floor. Plus, it’s freezing in here”.

He tilted his head. “And you’re sure you’re okay with that? Because I can sleep here just fine…I’ve had worse”

You shrugged, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. You walked back over to the bed and pulled the covers back as you hopped back in. 

“Sure. Just try not to break this too, okay big ass?” You replied playfully. “Tony will end up sending us a bill if you keep wrecking the joint.”

He rolled his eyes as he relented, strolling over and flopping onto the other side of the bed. “Whatever. But if you snore I will wake you up”.

You grinned, delighted at the shift in atmosphere. Maybe Bucky would never like you the way you liked him, but if you had a chance at being his friend you would take that. You would grasp it with both hands and never let go.

Once you both settled down and you switched off the lamp for the second time that night, your head hit the pillow and you did your best to fall asleep. You tried to ignore the sheer heat radiating from the heavy body next to you. You didn’t really get up close and personal with Bucky so had no idea he ran this hot. Serum thing, you guessed. The mattress sagged under the weight of his bulk and you were painfully aware of how close you were to him, his back to you. You could’ve barely reached out and easily brushed his fingers. His thick shoulders were right there. His strong thighs were just by you. His beautiful blue eyes were resting beneath his eyelids. You felt your mouth go dry and squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep and rescue your mind from this psychic torment.

Unfortunately the cabin’s poor insulation quickly made itself known and soon all you could think about was how cold you were. How did this place only have one blanket?? You couldn’t even wrap yourself up in it properly because Bucky had half. You fantasised about endless duvets and comforters, fluffy pillows and hot water bottles. Electric blankets and knitted quilts.

You were debating getting up and going to try find another layer of clothing in your pack when Bucky’s grumpy voice interrupted. 

“Can you keep still? Jeez”.

You realised then that you were shivering. The trembling of your limbs was causing you to shake, gently rocking the bed.

“I’m sorry…it’s cold okay?” You hissed in the dark.

“Oh c‘mon…” he sneered.

“We aren’t all super soldiers!!” You spat, clenching your teeth together to stop them chattering. “I’m not a human bonfire like you”. 

“Ugh. So dramatic. Come’ere” he groaned.

Before you could fully compute he rolled over and pulled you into his arms, nestling you in his grasp. 

You had become the little spoon. 

“Uh…” you eked out in surprise.

“Shut up and go to sleep” he scolded lightly. “You can’t still be cold now…”

You shook your head, your brain short circuiting. It was as if every possible thought had left you all at once. You felt the dual sensation of metal and flesh hug your torso, the warmth of his breath by your ear. And oh god the heat. The heat.

You laid perfectly still as if any sudden movements would startle him and shake him out of this. You heard his breathing deepen suddenly and at first you thought he was falling asleep…but then you felt it.

It indeed.

There was something hard pressing into your bottom. 

You felt your face flush. Your mouth fell agape. He knew exactly what he was doing. This wasn’t an accident. A flash of boldness hit you like a lightning bolt, his audaciousness igniting something within you. You couldn’t process what this meant right now, you just had to ride the wave, so to speak. He rocked into you a little harder. You had to make it clear that you knew what this was. So you experimentally pushed your hips back against his. You were cautious, a slow manoeuvre at first to test the water. He grunted, then slowly moved himself forward once more, pressing himself harder against you. You pushed back again, uttering a small moan which he reciprocated with his own. You did this for a little while, pressing against each other and finding a rhythm. The only sounds were your clothes swishing against the sheets and a quiet chorus of whimpers and groans. No words were spoken. 

He carefully snaked his vibranium arm around you and you shuddered as he raised your shirt, walking his fingers down across your bare stomach to your hips, daringly pulling back the waistband of your sweats. He took his time, his breath dense against your ear as you closed your eyes and felt the cool metal trace your scorching skin beneath.

His digits toyed with the side of your underwear with painful slowness, his breathing quickening as he continued to rock his bulge into your backside. You could only whine as his fingers finally breached the fabric and made their way inside. He groaned heavily into your neck as he found the readiness of your essence, viscous and dripping from his fingers as he traced further and further in. You whimpered as he finally put you out of your misery and found your clit, expertly toying with it but applying enough pressure to build and build and build…

You rocked eagerly against his hand as he slipped one metal finger inside of you. Then two. All in rhythm with the thrust of your hips in time with his. His circling increased suddenly, his fingers continued to pump and you gasped as you reached your peak, finally reaching the top and plummeting off the edge, your voice hoarse and laboured as you cried out into the dark cabin, the stars of your climax both dizzying and intoxicating.

He held you close as you fell back down to earth, still not a word spoken by either of you. Nothing had needed to be said. He gently removed his hand from your panties and cupped your chin, wrenching your face to his and gifting you the sweetest, softest kiss you’d ever experienced. His lips brushing yours with tenderness and care. A stark contrast to the salacious way he’d touched you. 

“I haven’t been entirely honest…” he spoke into the dark, his voice hoarse and strained with lust.

You stroked his cheek fondly. “Mm?”

“It wasn’t just your…optimism” he told you as he kissed you again. “I…I couldn’t handle the way I felt about you. I always liked you…always wanted you. From that very first moment Steve introduced us. I was a goner. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t know how to talk to you. So I purposefully put space between us. It was immature, I know” he sighed. 

You smiled into the dark, your head reeling from all the ways the world had changed in the last hour. Your heart exploding after finally hearing the words you’d longed for. The words you’d never expected to actually hear.

“You’re so soft…and sweet. I like the way you try and see the good in everything. It makes me wanna be less of a grumpy asshole. And you make me laugh. The way you sent that pinecone flying earlier…” he chuckled. “You’re utterly ridiculous. You know that?”

You grinned. “You didn’t laugh!! It made it so much worse that you didn’t laugh…”

He sniggered. “I’m sorry. Look. I wanted to. I just didn’t want you to think I was making fun of you”.

You giggled, touched by the strange but well meaning logic. 

“Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?” He asked softly, his hand lazily running up your thigh. 

“Bucky…”

“Yeah, doll?”

“The quinjet will be here in a few hours. So you better get started on that apology…”

You felt his smile in the dark as his lips touched yours again, one arm pulling you into him as the other began to tug down your sweats. 

“You’re on doll, you’re on”.

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

bucky request:

You and Bucky are on a daytime date (farmer's market? amusement park? picnic?) when you randomly run into your ex (who cheated on you or was emotionally abusive??)

What happens next is up to you.

༉‧₊˚. 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 || 𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬

― pairings: bucky barnes x plus size!reader

― summary: nothing could ruin your date with bucky, until he did.

― warnings: implied mental abuse, implied depression, toxic relationships, shitty exes, bucky beats his ass, blood mentioned like- one time.

― wc: 823

⋆ a/n: thank you so much for this request :] it was kind of a sad write, but i hope this fic serves as something helpful for the people that have been through shitty relationships and didn't have someone to protect them.

masterlist | AO3

There was a time where you weren't as happy, where you convinced that the world was against you, that you were just out on the earth to live and to die. So, once you were free, you were relieved to be able to leave it in the past, but like the saying goes, your past will always come back to bite you in the ass.

It took you a long time to be able to trust Bucky the way you did now, with the way the solider took care of you, made sure that you were comfortable, made sure that you knew that you were loved. You had somehow hit the jackpot, and you couldn't have been happier, just like you couldn't have been happier now that you were finally able to go on a date with Bucky. With your boyfriend being in the Avengers, he was away a lot for missions, so it was rare that you and him were able to be put like this, doing something as simple as walking around a fair.

Your day had been filled with laughs, kisses, sweets, and adrenaline, something that was quickly becoming your favorite combination. It was as the day was untouchable, until it wasn't.

You thought you were hallucinating it at first, but you were sure that it was him walking towards you, a menacing smile on his face.

"Hey, _______. Long time no see." Your stomach twisted, your throat feeling as though it was closing up. In that moment, you had wished you hadn't sent Bucky away to get cotton candy, god knows how long the line was. "Hey, babe, who's this?" Bucky? He wasn't supposed to be back yet. A wave of relief and comfort settled over you, you instantly taking his hand as you gritted out, "A friend." He just scoffed, "C'mon," He said in faux playfulness, "You didn't tell him about me?" He knew you didn't, the bastard finding entertainment in the trauma that he had caused you.

"I'm one of her better ex's'!" He announced, as if he was proud of it, reaching out to shake Bucky's. Your boyfriend just stared at him, a glare so lethal that you wish it had taken him out. "I'm her boyfriend, and by the looks of it, my girlfriend doesn't seem to want to talk to you. So how about you get out here before there's a problem." Your ex raised his brow, a smirk playing on his lips as his eyes slid from you to him. "I didn't know you'd be able to find someone that could love you." Bucky stepped closer to him, taking his collar in his hands roughly as he stared at him face-to-face.

"The fuck did you just say?" Bucky growled. "I'm just saying man," He raised his arms up in defeat. "I'm just saying man, with a woman like her, I think she'd die alone."

"Buck—" But it was too late, he had already threw a punch, a crowd gathering around all of you, piercing eyes watching as the Winter Soldier lived up to their expectations. "Bucky, please! They're children here, he's not worth it! Let's just go!" You placed a hand on his shoulder, prying him off of the piece of shit that now floundered on the ground. He looked at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed, a sign that you needed to spill your guts to him as soon as you guys left.

"C'mon, Buck, let's go before the news station gets here. No doubt someone's already recorded you." You finished with a sigh, taking him by his hand as you tugged him towards the exit, but not before he turned around and spat on his already bloody face.

As you got to his car, the inside was silent, Bucky's hands gripping the steering wheel as though he was going to rip it off, and he could if genuinely wanted too.

"At least you used your flesh hand." You attempted to joke, but quickly look down at your own hands when he hadn't said anything.

"Who was he, actually?" He asked darkly from the drivers seat. "Well, he was right about the ex part, but he wasn't the best of them. He.. he wasn't very nice to me when we were dating and.. it's kind of fucked me up ever since." You laughed sadly at the end. You could hear him sigh deeply, his beat up hand taking your softer one in his. "Why didn't you tell me about this?" He asked quietly. "Because I just wanted to forget about it. You're my boyfriend now, you're the one that makes me happy, so why should I dwell on somebody that made my life a living hell?" He understood, bringing your knuckles to his lips as he pressed sweet kisses on them.

"Then I'm glad I beat his ass then." You looked at him, a smile on your face. "Yeah, I am too."

ೃ⁀➷ my lovely taglist!: @alina02 @louderfortheback @minervadashwood

[herrmannhalsteadproduction]

Honesty. Horrible, Horrible Honesty. (Chapter Nine)

Summary: This is Part Eighteen of my series A Herrmann/Halstead Production. It is an AU where Christopher Herrmann's mom had an affair with Pat Halstead resulting in a baby. The series follows this OC character (Rebecca "Bex" Herrmann) as she grows up and gets to know her brothers and the various Chicago teams. It is very much an AU, just to underscore that. It doesn't follow the same timeline and characters will follow different paths.

Click here for the Series Rundown where you can find the links to read all of the previous installments (which I highly recommend you do so that this one makes sense.)

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Christopher Herrmann & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Original Female Character, Will Halstead & Original Female Character, Jay Halstead & Will Halstead, pre-Greg 'Mouse' Gerwitz/Original Female Character, Will Halstead/Connor Rhodes, Assorted OC Couples

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mild Injury, Swearing, Characters Working Through Trauma, Repairing Relationships, Fluff, I Swear There are Funny Bits Along with the Emotional Bits

A/N: I know I was going to finish off with one big chapter, but it was TOO big! Plus this one had a natural end so surprise! You get one more chapter after this. :D

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chris

Mouse’s place wasn’t giving Chris much in the way of further insights into the man. It was sparse, but tidy with a few homey touches here and there.

And a glowering man standing in the living room.

“Oh, uh…” Mouse scratched at the back of his neck and gestured at the man. “This is my friend, Ed. He’s been, uh, he’s been staying with me for a bit. He’s from my group.” The last part was said softly, but Jay gave an understanding nod.

It clicked for Chris then. He remembered Jay talking about finding an NA group for Mouse—one that was specifically for vets and it had sounded like it was a good fit. Part of the reason Mouse had been doing so well.

If this was the kind of support he was getting, that certainly made sense. Chris was glad the man had people outside of Jay and Bex. That was healthier for all of them.

Mouse pointed at the two of them next. “Ed, this is Jay and his brother, Chris.”

The glowering man turned to Chris and offered his hand, expression lightening up somewhat. “Nice to meet you,” he said, voice gruff. “Heard good things.”

From who?

Chris shot a glance at Mouse who had a light blush staining his cheeks. “Jay and Bex talk about you a lot,” he mumbled.

“Ah, thanks, Jay,” Chris said, shooting a shit-eating grin at him and successfully breaking a teensy bit of the tension in the room. “Nice to meet you too, Ed. Should we grab some plates for this stuff?”

Soon the four of them were settled around Mouse’s tiny kitchen table, digging into the feast Chris and Jay had picked up.

“You gonna tell me what that’s all about?” Mouse asked Jay around a mouthful of eggs, gesturing at his face.

Jay grimaced and shoved a few slices of bacon in his mouth. Chris sighed. It was probably better coming from him anyway.

“Ty showed up at Bex and Will’s place last night,” he said. “Looking for Emery.” Chris held up a hand, seeing how tense Mouse was already getting in his seat. “First of all, Emery is fine. Will is fine—”

Mouse gripped his fork tight. “Bex—”

“Is pretty much okay,” Chris said. “Ty grabbed her in the parking lot and threw her against her car, but Jay showed up before it could go much further than that. I expect she’s a bit sore today, but she got the all clear from the paramedics.”

“She’s okay?” Mouse asked quietly and Jay nodded.

“I stopped him,” he said.

“And he did this to you in return?” Mouse narrowed his eyes at Jay, cataloguing his injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jay rolled his eyes. “Few bruises. I’ve had worse. And I gave as good as I got, thank you very much.”

Because that was the point to be made out of all of this. Chris rolled his eyes right back and stole a piece of bacon off of Jay’s plate. Buffoonery toll.

“Where’s this Ty guy now?” Ed asked and something about his tone gave Chris pause. Mild, but with a hint of contained threat running underneath—like Voight sounded sometimes.

Like if this Ed fellow didn’t like the answer, he’d do something about it.

Well, with the bad luck that Ty had to end up where he did, Ed would have to get in line. “They’ve got him locked up over at 21,” Chris said. “I was planning on taking Bex over there later today to finalize her statement so I’m sure we’ll get an update about what’s happening with him then.”

“Good…good,” Mouse nodded to himself before looking back at Jay. “I’m glad you were there.”

Jay snorted. “I was the reason she was there by herself in the first place,” he said before sighing at Mouse’s raised eyebrows. “We got in a fight at Molly’s and she took off by herself. There’s—I’ve got a lot of stuff to fill you in on, man. And a lot more stuff to apologize for.”

Surprise flitted briefly across Mouse’s face as he stared at Jay before shaking himself a bit and nodding again before diving back into his food.

Chris started clearing the table once they were done. “Why don’t you two go to the living room while Ed and I take care of the dishes,” he said. “We’ll put some coffee on after.”

He was going to need to inject the stuff in his veins to keep moving through today.

Mouse and Jay followed his directions—Mouse still a little unsure, but Jay resolute—leaving him alone in the kitchen with Ed.

“So,” he said to the man as he started filling up the sink. “What’s your story? What do you do?”

“Main gig is security,” Ed said, pulling his long hair back into a bun before grabbing a dish towel. “But I also do a bit of construction on the side.”

Ah. Chris’s favourite phrase. “Construction, eh?” Chris smiled at him. “I’ve got a bar that I’m looking to put a back patio on it. My friend Beau has been giving me some advice—”

“Beau Taggert?” Ed asked.

“Yeah!” Small world. “You know him?”

“I play a little guitar on the side too,” Ed said, smiling back with a tiny grin that transformed his whole face.

“Now, see, he’s been telling me we can fit a stage back there and I’m not too sure so I could use a second opinion,” Chris said as Ed nodded seriously.

“Tell me more…”

***

Mouse

Mouse led the way into the living room, pretending not to notice as Jay rubbed his hands against his jeans, uncharacteristically twitchy. “You know Chris is going to have your friend roped into about five different things before we leave here,” he said to Mouse, chuckling nervously.

Mouse cast a fond look back at the kitchen. “Ed won’t get roped into anything he doesn’t want to get roped into,” he said. “He’s a good guy.”

“Yeah,” Jay nodded. “I can tell.”

The unsaid ‘unlike Jay had been lately’ sat heavily between them.

“Mouse, I—”

“How’s Bex?” Mouse cut him off, needing to know. Hearing bits and pieces of what went down was killing him. “How is she really?”

“Really?” Jay heaved out a sigh and sat down on the couch, scrubbing a hand over his face—flinching before gentling the movement. “Really…she’s having a hard time,” he said. “There was some other stuff that went down yesterday that stirred some shit up for her on top of the Ty stuff and the—the stuff with me and with you.”

That didn’t sound good. Mouse sat down on the coffee table, at the far end from Jay. He wanted to hear this. Hear everything. But he still needed his distance. “…other stuff?”

“Not my story to tell,” Jay said, holding up a hand, stopping Mouse’s protests. “It’s not,” he said firmly. “But she handled herself. Like she always does.” He shook his head. “And she’s really pissed at me. More than she’s ever been, but I deserve it. I know I do.”

Mouse fought the urge to argue. To defend, like he always did when Jay was down. Bex had every right to be angry.

At both of them.

“Greg, I am so fucking sorry, man,” Jay began and Mouse’s head whipped up at the use of his first name. That was usually death’s door usage only. Jay shuffled down the couch a bit to get closer to him and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I was way out of line,” he said. “I should never have gotten involved with whatever what going on between you and Bex.”

They could leave it at that. Mouse could accept his apology and they could move on, but…

There was a lot not being said in-between the lines of that apology.

“You’re sorry for saying something,” Mouse said quietly. “But not for what you said. Because you still think it’s a bad idea? That we shouldn’t be together.”

That was the heart of it. What Mouse had been stewing over ever since Jay said it. The little voice in the back of his brain getting louder and louder, screaming “he’s right.”

Screaming until he’d listened and stepped away and then a new voice started up, crying that it was wrong, wrong, wrong.

Talking with his group had helped him get his head on straight. Mouse knew what he wanted.

But everything was going to be that much harder if Jay was still against it.

“That’s not what I said,” Jay straightened up with a frown.

“It is what you said,” Mouse countered. “Before. And you’re not apologizing for that because you still think that’s the truth, right? That I’m no good for Bex.” He got up from the couch, running his hands through his hair, needing to walk. “I’m always going to be a screw-up, right?”

Because that’s what he was. A screw-up. A drug addict. Someone who broke everything good in his life. Broke other people’s lives.

He’d been fooling himself thinking he had a chance to make things work with Bex. He was wrong, His group was wrong, Jay was right.

He was a fuck up.

He was a broken fucking fuck up who—

“Mouse!”

Strong arms wrapped around him, halting him in his tracks. Jay held him tight, squeezing him, not letting him fall apart or fly into the million pieces that were itching to come loose.

“You’re not a fuck up,” Jay whispered fiercely into his ear.

…oh.

He’d been saying that out loud.

…fuck.

Jay gave him a little shake as he squeezed him. “Listen to me, please,” he said. “I was wrong. About all of it, okay? I was freaking out about Erin and everything in my life falling apart and I put all of that shit on you and Bex and that wasn’t right. I am so sorry, Mouse. I was wrong. I was wrong.”

Mouse sagged into him, feeling like his strings had been cut at those words, and Jay led them back to the couch.

A mug of coffee was pressed into his hands and he looked up to see Ed hovering over him with Chris behind him, looking concerned.

…and now he was going to think Mouse was a fuck up too.

Like he could read his mind, Chris shook his head, smiling gently. “Gotta let that stuff out or it’ll eat you up,” he said before jerking a thumb over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Me and Ed are going to go back to our shop talk, but yell if you need us.”

The two of them retreated and Mouse looked over at Jay in question. What kind of shop talk could they possibly be having?

Jay held up his hands with a little smile. “I warned you.”  His grin faded as he leaned into the couch, watching Mouse carefully. “I mean it, man,” he said. “I had no right saying any of the stuff I said to you. It was me projecting all of my issues on you guys and that was…unfair doesn’t even cut it.”

“I wished you’d talked to me,” Mouse murmured. “Told me more of what was up.”

“I didn’t even know what was up,” Jay said, frowning. “I was nosediving. I don’t think I could have talked about it even if I wanted to, you know? But that’s no excuse for lashing out like I did.”

“How are you doing now?” Even as upset and as hurt as he was by Jay, he hated seeing him spiral. Hated to think he’d been doing that alone. Again.

“You’re really asking me that? When you should be telling me to kick rocks?” Jay scoffed at him.

“If we’d walked away from each other every time the other one was an idiot, we’d never have become best friends,” Mouse said. They’d each had their fair share of it.

Jay’s turn this time around just happened to be more spectacular than most.

“I’m serious,” Mouse persisted. “Talk to me.”

“I’m going back to therapy to talk about the Erin shit,” Jay said before nodding his head side to side a bit. “To talk about all of it, really. I need to.” He chewed on his lip a bit. “Honestly, the stuff with you and Bex has put the Erin stuff in perspective. I’ve been more concerned about sorting things out with the two of you. You guys…you’re two of the most important people in my life and I hate that I hurt you both so badly.”

He winced a bit and reshuffled himself to lean less heavily. “I was so scared of losing the two of you that I pushed you both away anyways,” he said. “Hurting you, both of you, was the last thing I wanted.”

Mouse twisted in his seat to face Jay more fully. He believed Jay was sorry and that he wanted to fix things. That he regretted what he said. But he needed to know.

He needed to be sure.

“I want you to be honest with me,” he said. “You’d really be okay with me and Bex? You don’t think it’d be a horrible mistake? That I’d just screw it up and—”

“Mouse.” Jay reached out and grabbed his wrist, giving it a squeeze. “The more I’ve thought about it, the more it actually makes perfect sense,” he said. “I think you guys could be great together. I want you both to be happy and if two of my favourite people being together makes them happy, then I’ve got no problem with that.”

Mouse couldn’t help the little grimace that came out at that. “I haven’t done a very good job of making her happy so far,” he said.

“That’s on me—”

“Not completely,” Mouse said. “I listened to you and I let my fears get the best of me.” He shook his head, kicking himself for how it all went down. “I thought it would be better if I let her go.”

“And now?” Jay asked him hesitantly.

“I tried it and it sucks,” he said, smiling a bit as Jay laughed. “I just—I need to figure out to fix it. How to move forward because—I know I want to be with her, but I’m still fucking scared of messing it up. And I know I hurt her too.” Mouse said. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Jay clapped a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help you figure it out.”

“We all will,” Ed said, emerging from the kitchen with Chris, coffees in hand.

“Eavesdropper,” Jay said, shaking his head at Chris who grinned shamelessly.

“Saves time,” he said. “We gotta get you boys to work soon so let’s start strategizing.”

***

Jay

Jay walked out of Mouse’s building feeling ten times lighter. He stopped Chris on the way to the truck and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you.”

Chris patted his back and gave him a little squeeze. “Anytime, kid, but listen,” he said as they released each other. “That was just part one of two and you know we started with the easy one first.”

Right.

Bex.

“Cindy and I gotta plan to soften her up a bit,” Chris continued. “And you’ve got the rest of the day to work on your apology so make it a good one.”

“Yeah.” Jay nodded. “I’m—I will.” Somehow.

Knowing he was on track to patching things with Mouse was giving him hope for things with Bex. He just…had to be as honest with her as he’d been with Mouse.

And hope she’d be as forgiving as Mouse.

That was the part that worried him the most. He’d never been in this big of a fight with Bex and he felt like he was flailing his way through muddy waters.

“Hey,” Chris said, gripping his shoulder. “You do what you did in there and you’ll be okay.” He gave it another moment of consideration. “Maybe add a bit more grovelling.”

“Did you listen the whole time?” Jay griped as he headed for the driver’s side.

“Not the whole time,” Chris said, hauling himself into the passenger seat. “Ed and I were talking business too. Did you know he does construction on the side? And he knows Beau.”

Beau…right, Bex’s friend. And apparently Chris’s now too. Along with Ed.

Jay bit back a smile. Only Chris.

“The three of us are going to meet up and hammer out some blue prints over lunch,” he continued. “Maybe I should invite Casey.”

Jay let the sounds of Chris’s rambling wash over him as he drove back to Molly’s so Chris could grab the van. It was weirdly soothing.

Soon enough, they were at the bar and Chris was hopping out of the truck.

“If you see us at the station,” he said. “Keep giving Bex her space. You can’t push on this.”

Jay nodded and Chris pointed a finger at him.

“Give Mouse the same advice,” he said. “I’ve got you boys too close to the finish line to have you screwing things up all over again.”

“I got it!” Jay huffed, rolling his eyes and fighting a grin. “Thank you.”

“Alright,” Chris said, patting the door frame. “Have a good day. Eat some vegetables to make up for the bacon fest. Yadda yadda. See you later.”

Jay laughed and Chris grinned back, one hand on the door.

“Love you, kid,” he said. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Love too, Chris,” Jay said. “And seriously. Thank you.”

Chris waved as he jogged off to the van and Jay pulled away, steering toward the station. He made it with a few minutes to spare before his shift.

“Jesus, Chuckles,” Platt said as he walked through the door. “I’d ask what happened to you, but I already read the report. How’s Mini-Chuckles?”

“Banged up, but okay,” Jay said, wishing he had a more thorough answer for that. More for himself than for Platt. “Any word on what’s happening with the scum bag?”

“Can’t afford bail so he’s still in lock up,” she said with a sharp grin. “Voight wants to talk to you about the rest of it.”

That could either mean good news or bad. Jay hustled up the stairs as quickly as his bruises would allow.

A chorus of questions met him as soon as he set foot in Intelligence.

“I’m fine,” he said, holding up his hands. “Bex is fine. Everyone’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“Bex’s face didn’t look fine,” Burgess said, her face tight as she frowned at him. And what?

“What do you mean? What are you talking about?” Jay pulled out his phone, ready to call Bex right then and there. Maybe he should go over there. Except Chris was headed over.

She wouldn’t be alone.

She was okay.

“I caught her Live this morning and I saved it,” Burgess said, holding out her phone for him to see. “She tried to keep that side of her face away from the camera, but you see a glimpse every once in awhile.” She paused the screen so he could peer at it.

Small, finger shaped bruises on her cheek.

Knowing that asshole was only a floor away down in lock up made it hard to resist charging back downstairs.

“Halstead!” Voight called out before he could turn around. “My office.”

Jay took a deep breath, tried to shake off the spikes of anger digging into his gut, and followed Voight into his office, closing the door behind him.

Olinsky was sitting in the corner and gave Jay a solemn nod when he came into the room. “You look like shit,” he said.

“Looks worse than it is,” Jay said as he sat down.

“Considering how it looks,” Voight said as he took his own seat. “I’d say that means it hurts like a bitch.”

He didn’t bother acknowledging that since it’d end with him being forced to take time off he didn’t need, didn’t want, and couldn’t afford. “I’m guessing you want to hear my side of things?”

Voight shook his head. “The report was clear,” he said. “We just wanted to give you a head’s up about a few developments and make sure you’ve got your head on straight about it all.”

“Developments?” Jay sat up in his chair. “They’re not letting him out, are they?”

“The opposite,” Olinsky said quietly. “Officers on the scene found zip ties and duct tape on Ty as well as sedatives.”

“His trunk had tarps and a shovel inside,” Voight continued. “That and lying in wait adds up to premeditation. Plus, attacking Bex and then a cop…prosecutors are looking at max penalties across the board.”

Jay’s head was spinning. On one hand, it was good news. Hopefully Ty would be put away for awhile this time. But on the other—what he’d been planning? Jay felt sick.

Last night could have been so much worse.

For Emery.

…for Bex.

“You think he wanted to take them both?” Jay asked, flexing his hand, feeling the sting in his knuckles.

“Hard to say,” Voight shook his head. “Best not to speculate on might have beens, Jay. Be glad it turned out the way it did.”

Jay nodded, even though it’d take him awhile to wrap his head around that.

“And steer clear of lock up,” Voight said, pointing a stern finger at him. “We’ve got him. He’s not going anywhere. When you’ve come back around to being pissed again, go for a walk or talk to me. Anybody. But don’t let proximity be a temptation.”

“Yes, sir,” Jay said. And he meant it. As satisfying as taking another crack at Ty might be, he wasn’t about to screw up the case for a moment of satisfaction. He wouldn’t do that to Emery.

“Alright,” Voight waved him off. “Let me know if you need time off for—”

“I’m good, I’m fine,” Jay said, biting back a groan as he got out of the chair, Olinsky definitely hiding a snicker as he did so.

“Sure,” Voight said, raising an eyebrow at him. “We’ll pretend I believe you too.”

Jay made his escape and headed back out to his own desk. The welcome sight of Mouse back in his own spot was there to greet him. That and Atwater coming through the door with a box of—

“Donuts! I got donuts!” Atwater flipped back the lid with a grin. “Halstead gets first pick since he looks half-dead.”

Jay took two, just for that.

The little grin Mouse shot at him after helped even more than the donuts.

Another step closer.

He could do this.

***

Bex

Bex was dressed and gearing herself up to head to the police station when there was a knock on her door.

A peek through the peep hole had her yanking it open. “Chris! What are you doing here? Is everything okay?”

“What? I can’t come check up on my baby sister?” He strolled into the apartment and gave her a once over after she’d shut the door. Tsking as he caught sight of her face, he gently touched her chin to tilt her cheek into better light.

“Will already checked me over again,” she said, hoping to cut off any further mama chickening before it could start.

Wishful thinking.

“Does it hurt?” he asked. “Have you taken anything? Have you eaten? Did Will leave any instructions? Should be icing anything?”

“Chris,” Bex said, grabbing his hand to remove it from her face and clasping it in both of hers. “I’m fine. I swear. I ate food. I took some Tylenol. We’re all good.”

Chris stared at her with that look she hated. The one that saw way too much. “You’re not though are you,” he said. “Fine. Or all good.”

“Chris—”

“No,” he said, pulling her over to the couch to sit down. “No more hiding this stuff and brushing it under the rug. No more drinking—yeah, I know all about that.” He gave her a stern look. “Talk to me, Bex. Please.”

“I’m honestly doing okay now—”

"Bull." He let go of her hand and groaned, scrubbing both of his hands over his face and through his hair. “For someone who is all about communication and working through things, you sure do keep a lot of shit close to the vest,” he said, frustration bleeding into every word. “You don’t have to. We’re all here. I’m here.”

Chris closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before he looked at her again. “I hate knowing that you went through all of that stuff with AJ and never said a word,” he said. “And now? With Mouse? Why did I have to hear about this from Will?”

Bex sighed, slumping against the couch. This was not a conversation she thought she’d be having today. It was one she definitely wasn’t prepared for.

“The AJ stuff,” she began. “There was so much happening at home that I didn’t want to bring it up. It was all so stupid. I had been stupid. And my friends were helping me through it. By the time I came home, it was a non-issue.”

“We both know that’s a lie,” Chris said. “And screw this not wanting to bring it up when other stuff is going on. Stuff is always going to be going on, Bex. That doesn’t make what’s happening with you less important.”

Bex knew that. She did. She just hadn’t wanted to think too hard about it. Because that meant admitting everything else. Chris was staring her down though and she was too tired to fight it.

“I didn’t want to talk about it,” she said. “I hid it. Because I was hurt and like I said, stupid.”

“Stop that.” Chris grabbed her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You weren’t. He was an asshole, plain and simple. How he acted was not on you, okay? You were putting yourself out there and being open to love. There’s nothing stupid about that.”

He levelled another look at her. “Now tell me about Mouse.”

“That was me putting myself out there again and having it blow up in my face,” she said, chuckling a bit and trailing off when Chris didn’t join in. “I’ve worked through it. I’m fine. We’re just meant to be friends, I guess.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have even been so upset to begin with,” she said. “It’s not like we were even anything to begin with.”

“Bex,” Chris said softly, waiting until she looked at him. “You two weren’t nothing either.”

Fuck.

She blinked rapidly as tears filled her eyes.

Fuck.

“Aw, sweetheart,” Chris wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. “Listen to me. You weren’t nothing. There was something there and you were brave. You were so brave. Not many people are willing to put there heart out there for someone, but you did.”

“But he didn’t want it,” Bex said, sniffling as her tears fell onto Chris’s shirt.

“He does,” Chris said, holding her tight before she could pull away. “No, listen. He does. You know he does. And you know why he did what he did. Or at least some of it.”

Jay.

Mouse’s own insecurities.

Yeah, she knew enough.

“Not everyone is as brave as you,” Chris said, patting her hair as he hugged her. “And…not everyone grew up with a shining example of a healthy relationship like you had with me and Cinds.”

Bex snorted, feeling the shake as Chris also laughed a bit. He wasn’t wrong though.

He and Cindy were couple goals for her. She wanted what they had.

She wanted that with Mouse.

She thought she could have it.

But maybe not everyone got that kind of love.

“I know you’re hurt,” Chris said. “And you have every right to be. But don’t let that hurt close you off.” He helped her sit up and used his thumb to wipe away some of her tears. “Promise me, you won’t give up hope. Not yet.”

Hope for what? For love in general? Or…for love with Mouse? Because that…that felt like a fool me once kind of situation.

“Just trust me,” he said in answer to her questioning look. “And be willing to listen.”

She nodded because agreeing seemed like the best way to end this chat and Bex had reached her limit on hashing things out. Chris took the nod for what it was and eased his way off the couch.

“Okay, enough of that,” he said, offering a hand to help her up. “I’m here to take you over to sign off on your statement and then after? I’m thinking milkshakes.”

“Sold,” Bex said, grabbing her purse.

They made it over to 21 in record time and luckily, the only person in the lobby that she really knew was Trudy.

Or maybe not so lucky, considering the scrutiny she was currently under.

“Mini-Chuckles,” Trudy said, clucking her tongue at her. “Hell of a night you had, kid. Glad to see you in one piece.”

“Thanks, Trudy,” Bex said, wrapping her arms around herself and trying to figure out how to move things along.

Trudy got the hint though and waved over another officer. “This is Officer Reddings. She’s going to go over your statement with you and document your injuries, if that’s okay with you.”

Bex nodded, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. And before Jay made an appearance.

Officer Reddings took her back to a small room where they went over everything again. In detail. Bex signed the statement and then let her take pictures of her face. And her back.

She also got the update of what was happening with Ty and holy shit. Bex walked on shaky legs back to Chris, mind whirling with exactly what could have happened last night.

He looked as stressed as she felt so Trudy must have filled him in. He grabbed her in a careful hug, mindful of her back and whispered in her ear, “Milkshakes?”

“Yes, freaking please,” Bex said, barely waving to Trudy as she hauled him toward the exit.

Chris laid off on the heart to heart during milkshake time, both of them feeling too rattled to deal with any more tension. Instead, he regaled her with tales of the kids’ escapades and had her snort laughing into her drink.

It was almost enough to clear away the bitter taste of the station visit. Almost.

After that, he dropped her off at home, needing to get back to Cindy and the kids and hopefully a nap considering the night he’d had. Bex gave him a huge hug before sending him on his way.

Then she flopped back down on her couch and called Kol to come snuggle with her.

She’d already called in to the diner and she didn’t have a Molly’s shift tonight. She should probably work on some pages for the graphic novel, but she couldn’t make herself move.

Her phone had all kinds of messages on it, but she didn’t want to talk to anyone either.

A nap actually sounded like a great idea. Kol snuffled, halfway asleep already as he cuddled in beside her. “Just for a little bit,” she whispered. “Then maybe I’ll do…something.”

Except then she was out like a light.

The sound of a key in the door woke her up.

“Bex?” Emery called out.

Holy crap, she must of slept for a good few hours if Emery was home already.

“Hey,” Emery said, leaning over the side of the couch. “So…I ran into some people in the parking lot and they convinced me to let them come upstairs.”

What.

Bex scrambled up into a seated position and peeked over the cushions at the crowd in the doorway.

Cindy, Donna, and Trudy stood there with matching grins.

“Surprise!” Cindy said, waving her hands in the air. “We're here to kidnap you.”

Click here to read Chapter Ten. Click here to read Chapter Eleven.

Click here to read Honesty. Horrible, Horrible Honesty on ao3:

And here is the tag list (let me know if you wish to be added or removed):

@sorry-i-spaced, @iunnowatuwant, @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived, @ivyalmighty, @thewannabewriter, @lexhalstead3, @multifandomgrl08, @foxes-and-cats, @sensitivemallysix, @thebewingedjewelcat

[jimblejamblewritings]

little situation | part 7.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

It was late when you and Steve got home from seeing Peggy. You saw your neighbor with a load of laundry as she just got off the phone.

“You know you’re welcome to use our machine. Least we could do for all your help.”

“Oh, no problem. But I’ve already got a load in downstairs plus these scrubs have been to the infectious disease ward,” she laughed as Steve held up his hands. “Oh, I think you guys left your speaker on.”

“Oh, right. Thank you.”

Steve waited till she walked away, telling you to stay outside. You could both hear the jazz music coming from inside the house. Steve went back downstairs and snuck in through his window. He sighed when he saw it was Nick and stomped over to the door to open it for you.

“I don’t remember giving you a key.”

“You’d really think I’d need one? My wife kicked me out.”

“Didn’t know you were married.”

“A lot of things you don’t know about me.”

“Yeah, Nick. That’s kind of the problem.”

Steve went to turn on the lights and when he did you both almost gasped at the sight of Nick. He held up a finger telling you both to be quiet before clicking off the lamp closest to him. Nick typed up something on his phone for Steve to read: Ears Everywhere.

You screamed as the first few bullets stormed through your house and hit Nick. Steve threw you the shield while he dragged Nick to a safer spot towards the back of the apartment. Nick slipped something in Steve’s hand.

“Don’t trust anyone.”

Steve looked over as the door clicked open.

“Captain Rogers.”

You and Steve looked in confusion as your neighbor came in with a handgun.

“Captain, Sarah. I’m Agent 13 of S.H.I.E.L.D. Special Service.”

“Kate?”

“I’m assigned to protect you.”

“On whose order?”

“His,” Agent 13 said as she knelt over Nick’s body.

She pulled out a walkie talkie. “Foxtrot is down. He’s unresponsive. I need EMTs.”

“Do we have the shooter in custody?” the dispatcher asked.

Steve took the shield from you. “Tell him I’m in pursuit.”

You watched your dad jump from your apartment building to the one across the street while you stayed with Agent 13 until they whisked Fury away to a hospital. Nat came bursting into the waiting room where you and Steve were, watching them operate on Nick.

“Is he going to make it?”

“We don’t know,” Steve said.

“The shooter.”

“He’s fast. Strong. Had a metal arm.”

You tensed up. It didn’t go unnoticed by Steve and Nat. Steve pulled you in, cradling your head to keep your vision away from the window.

“You shouldn’t be watching this.”

He tried to shield you even more as they tried to revive Nick, failing in the end. Steve told you to wait in the hall while he and Nat mourned. Maybe it was pointless but he didn’t think you needed to add Nick to the alarmingly long list of people you’ve seen die in front of you. You looked up when Nat stormed into the hall with Steve hot on her trail.

“Natasha.”

“Why was Fury in your apartment?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cap, they want you back at S.H.I.E.L.D.” Rumlow interrupted.

“Sarah…”

“They want you now.”

“Okay.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Nat said before walking off.

Steve looked around for a moment, his eyes landing on the vending machine, before turning back to you.

“Sarah, let’s go.” His hand was on your shoulder, guiding you out as you followed Rumlow and the STRIKE team back to headquarters.

~~

You and Steve were walking to the elevators when you saw Agent 13 in an office suit. Steve was about to leave on a mission and wasn’t sure what to do after talking with Nick, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving you with anyone he wasn’t sure of at the moment. Agent 13 spotted you guys since she was headed in the opposite direction.

“Captain Rogers.”

“Neighbor,” Steve said before his mouth hardlined.

You offer Agent 13 a small smile because Steve was more stubborn than you. But you kept walking with him because a part of you felt betrayed as well— you thought people were done lying and tricking you. A man stopped you two.

“Captain. I’m Alexander Pierce.”

“Sir, it’s an honor.”

“The honor’s mine. My father served in the 101st. Come on in, it’s nice to meet you Sarah. Will you wait outside while your father and I talk?”

You didn’t want to leave. Especially after last night, you were already struggling to let Steve go on his latest mission. Steve seemed to sense it because he grabbed your shoulder. You took out your hearing aids and handed them to Steve. Pierce swallowed but seemed to accept the compromise and you followed him into the office.

You looked out the window as they spoke, knowing you’d be able to read Pierce’s lips. When Steve stood up so did you and you followed him back out, almost knocking into him when he stopped suddenly after Pierce called his name.

One of the things you liked about S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters was that the elevators at the very end of the halls were glass and let you see the outside world. You and Steve looked out the glass as he commanded the elevator to take him somewhere. He turned around and so did you, now seeing that the elevator hadn’t started to go down because Rumlow and the STRIKE team was entering. Steve greeted them and you went back to looking at the window.

The elevator stopped not on your floor and more men piled in. Steve grabbed you and shifted you in front of him and closer to the doors as the elevator began to get packed. He looked over at the man next to him and watched a bead of sweat roll down his face. The elevator stopped once again and three more large men were standing there waiting to get on. Steve put your hearing aids back in.

“Sarah, take the next elevator.” He started to push you out of the elevator, not really able to follow with all the bodies.

“Come on, Cap. No one would ever think about it,” one of the men said.

“Can never be too careful, nothing personal guys. Four floors down, Babydoll.”

Steve signed as he spoke. But the words didn’t match. No one else would know but you were confused.

“Four floors down, Babydoll. Operations Room, got it?” Steve repeated with the same wrong signs: Don’t go home. Understood? Home. Don’t.

“Okay, Dad. Operations Room,” you said as Rumlow pushed the button for the elevator doors to start to close.

Steve carefully signed very close to his body so that no one else would see it.

Run.

You heard the crack of a taser wand the minute you sprinted. You looked behind you with wide eyes as you saw the men turn on Steve but you didn’t stop running because he told you to go. There was another STRIKE team about two floors down that were standing in front of you. You threw all your weight into the emergency exit stairs and ran before they could do anything. Less of the STRIKE team was following you, Steve being number one target. The plan was to use you as leverage because everyone knew Steve wasn’t going to leave his kid. One man got close until you turned and grabbed him, slamming him into the railing and then throwing him into the next closest agent.

Your lungs burned because even as half super-soldier, you chose not to stop until you were in a location where you felt you could hide in the crowd which pushed you past your limits. Steve said not to go home. Because they knew where he lived but where were you supposed to go. And how were you supposed to find him? Your phone was missing. You had chucked it at the security guard’s neck, the only space not covered, and never stopped to pick it up as you left S.H.I.E.L.D.

You ripped your hearing aids off, not even wanting them on, as you tried not to hyperventilate. No one seemed to notice or care as you crouched in the grass trying to think. You stood back up, put the aids in, and looked around. You knew this location. You walked, more like ran, with deliberation to the brick building.

“Baby Rogers! Where’s running ma— Sarah, are you okay?” Sam’s joking tone turned to one of concern as he saw you enter the VA building.

“Dad. They’re trying to kill my dad, he told me… I didn’t know anyone else to trust.”

“Okay, hey Sarah, you’re good. Alright. Do you know where he is now?”

“No! My phone, I lost—”

“Sarah, sweetheart, calm down. Do you know his number?”

Steve told you not to go home but now you weren’t picking up his calls. He didn’t have time to panic, he had one place to stop before starting a manhunt for you again. Steve checked the vending machine where he hid the flash drive Nick had given him. The machine was empty but he saw the reflection of Nat in the glass as she popped a bubble out of the gum she was blowing. Steve turned around and shoved her into an empty room and up against a wall.

“Where is it?”

“Safe,” Nat said.

“Do better.”

“Where did you get it?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Fury gave it to you. Why?”

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Where’s Sarah?”

“Sarah’s missing?”

“Don’t bullshit me! Where’s my daughter?”

“I’m not. I only act like I know everything, Rogers. I don’t know what Fury said but I’m on your side.”

“I swe— hello?” Steve answered his phone. “Sarah?! Babydoll, are you okay? You’re not hurt are you?”

“I’m okay, Dad. I’m at—”

“No names, they could have the phone tapped. Hint, Babydoll.”

“…On your left.”

“My left… alright. I’ll find you okay. Stay on your left, three days.”

“Three days, promise?”

“Promise and I won’t call, I’ll be right there. Okay? I’m with you, Babydoll.”

“Till the end of the line?” You asked, remembering the Smithsonian visit. You felt like you needed extra reassurance and Steve seemed to say that a lot when he was Captain America in the 40s.

“Unh-unh. I’m with you past that, Sarah.”

“Three days. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too.”

The phone clicked off. Steve would’ve liked to hear those words under better circumstances and not said because you thought you actually might not hear or see him again. Steve turned back to Nat to press her for more information on what she did know.    

~~

The knocking on the door alerted Sam who was in the kitchen drinking orange juice after having just come from his morning run— you didn’t budge, having not heard a sound with your hearing aids on the table. He rolled up the blinds on the second glass door to see a dusty Nat and Steve.

“Hey, man.”

“I’m so sorry about this.”

“She’s in the kitchen.”

Sam moved aside for Steve to race past him and into the house. Your back was to them from where you were sitting at the table. Steve reached over you and knocked on the table. Immediately flying up from the chair, you hugged him in a death grip. After an eternity, you let go of Steve and hugged Nat before letting them both clean off in Sam’s bathroom.

“I made breakfast. If you guys eat that sort of thing,” Sam interrupted Steve and Nat’s talk.

“So the question is, who at S.H.I.E.L.D. could launch a domestic missile attack?” Nat asked.

“Pierce,” Steve answered.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” Nat retorted.

“But he’s not working alone.”

“Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star so was Jasper Sitwell.”

“So how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a S.H.I.E.L.D. officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is, you don’t.” Sam plopped down his old file in front of them. “Consider this a resume.”

“The Khalid Khandil mission,” Nat said, looking the file over. “That was you?”

“You didn’t say he was a Pararescue. Is this Riley?” Steve asked.

Sam handed them a second part of the file. Steve opened it, looking at the pictures inside.

“I thought you were a pilot.”

“I never said pilot.”

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason.”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. Last one of those is in Fort Meade. Guarded heavily.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve said as he dropped the file reading EXO-7 Falcon on the table.

Steve sighed. He now had to confront something he had been avoiding for months now. Steve looked at you.

“I’m taking you to your grandparents.”

“What? No!”

“We can’t risk you going to Clint’s. I found Elise’s parents, their house is on the way to Fort Meade. You’ll be safe wi—”

“No! I’m not going with them. You’re not leaving me again!”

“Sarah, it’s another mission. We’ve done this before, just once more and I’ll quit, okay?”

“No.”

“Sarah.”

“No! This isn’t another mission, it’s about S.H.I.E.L.D. I don’t want you to quit. I like my dad being Captain America but you’re not leaving me this time.”

~~

“Stay in the car,” Steve said as they left to go get Jasper Sitwell. “Don’t even argue. The car, stay here.”

You shut your mouth and sat back in the seat. Steve cradled the back of your head for a moment before he closed the car door. You couldn’t see where Steve and Nat had gone but you could see Sam sitting on the bench in front of where the car was parked on the curb. You were uncomfortably sandwiched between Jasper and Nat as the car sped off.

“Insight’s launching in sixteen hours. We’re cutting it close,” Nat said as she leaned over.

The window was suddenly smashed and Jasper was pulled from the car. Nat pushed you down and then launched herself into the front seat, maneuvering her body to cover Steve while pushing Sam to the edge of the car as much as possible. Steve shoved the gear shift into park. The car lurched forward and a man was thrown from the car.

You were about to get up from the floor of the car when a large Jeep slammed into the back, jostling you back to the floor. Nat attempted to find the gun that had fallen by Steve’s feet. The man used his metal arm to rip the steering wheel out of the car. He jumped onto the Jeep behind you guys before Nat could properly shoot him. The car began to swerve and hit other cars. The Jeep pulled back and rammed into the car again causing it to start to flip.

“Sarah!” Steve yelled.

He couldn’t reach you as the car flipped. He, Sam, and Nat fell out on the broken passenger’s side door. The door was sliding along the freeway and while Steve couldn’t see it, he had horror written all over his face as he imagined the car flipping over multiple times. Once the sliding stopped, he quickly stood up but didn’t have time to try and reach you as the metal armed man pointed a large grenade launcher at them. Steve shoved Nat and braced himself with the shield. The impact knocked him over the overpass and into a bus.

You heard the gunshots and stayed where you were in the car— partially because you felt very banged up. You groaned in slight pain as your right hand reached around gently for the hearing aid that had fallen out, trying not to cut yourself on glass. When it got quiet on the overpass, the only noise coming from the cars, you slowly and carefully slid yourself out of the car. You could see Sam shooting at the people below. Sam was relieved as you approached.

“Where’s my dad?”

“Going after the dude with the damn metal arm.”

“Metal arm?!”

You looked over the bridge, seeing Sam had gotten all but two. Two, that wasn’t so bad. Only four or five gunshots at the most maybe. You stood back and then ran at the overpass. Sam screamed your name but you ignored him, landing on one of the overturned cars before speeding off. Sam cursed as he went back to shooting before the two men could aim at you.

The sound that rang out when the metal arm of the Winter Soldier hit Steve’s shield was damn near deafening. Steve was kicked off the car and had to quickly use the shield to block his body from the shots. The metal arm had thrown him and was starting to give him a run for his money. But also because Steve was only half-focused on the fight.

The other half of his mind was stuck on the overpass where he wasn’t sure if his daughter had survived the car flipping over or not. His wandering mind caused him to lose the shield as the Winter Soldier threw it into a van. He flipped out a knife and Steve was now holding his hands inches away from his face.

“James! Soldat. Jamie!” you yelled as you ran into the street.

Steve and the Winter Soldier turned to you, confusion in both of their eyes. Steve snapped out of it first and kicked the man to escape. You ran in between the two of them as James’ fist almost connected with Steve’s face. You hissed at the pain from when you blocked it. You knew he wouldn’t hit you. Would he do anything to get around you and get to Steve? Probably. But he would try his hardest not to hit you… even if you attacked him. So you hit him in the face and pulled the mask off his face as he staggered back.

“Bucky?” Steve gasped.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He began to stalk forward again.

“Jamie.”

He looked over at you. “It’s a mission, little doll.”

“He’s my dad, please Jamie.”

Bucky stopped. He ripped Steve’s shield out of the side of the van and shoved it back into Steve’s chest.

“Go. Before they take you back.”

“Come with us, we can help.”

You watched the recognition he had slowly get clouded again by something else.

“You said we’d escape together! Jamie…”

Sam kicked the Winter Soldier out of the way and then a grenade from Nat was thrown and after the smoke cleared, James was nowhere to be found.

“No!” You screamed as you looked around for him.

Black vans surrounded you. The four of you found yourself being forced to your knees by large men with guns. The only thing stopping your death was the news helicopter that suddenly appeared and Rumlow realizing how bad it could look. They stood you all up and you found yourself being taken to a separate van. Steve started to fight, struggling with the weird handcuffs he was placed in. You were being contained by multiple guards.

“Sarah! Sarah! Where the hell are you taking her? That’s my kid! Rumlow, that’s my fucking kid!”

“HYDRA wants their pet back.”

Sam, Steve, and Nat watched in horror as your body slowly went slack when Rumlow started speaking in Russian: Longing, Rusted, Seventeen, Daybreak, Furnace, Nine, Benign, Homecoming, Freight car.

“Ready to comply?”

“Ready to comply.” You turned to follow the soldiers.

“Sarah!”

“001.”

The guard called when they all noticed you turn around at Steve’s words. Steve called your name again and the recognition reappeared until the guard said 001. Before Steve could say another word, your hearing aids were ripped out and crushed. You were pushed into a separate van.

(Part 8)...

[piscespixiewastaken]

Sweet Dreams

Masterlist, Previous

cw: nightmares, mentions of blood, eye trauma, panic attacks

Melodie arrived home just after dinner. She stepped into the side kitchen, wiping her feet on the doormat. The smell of soup filled the room, and she felt her stomach growl in hunger. Damn, it had been a while since she’d eaten. She couldn’t remember if she’d even had time to grab breakfast from Sandy and Ming that morning. Why did her shift have to start so early?

She spotted a note on the counter and leaned over to read it, curiosity getting the better of her. She smiled as she read the scrawled note.

“Melodie, your dinner is in the fridge. Just pop it in the microwave for a few minutes to heat up. Hope your evening went well!” Ms. Kenneth’s handwriting was almost chicken scratch, but Melodie could still make out the message. 

She opened the fridge and found a cylinder of liquid. Soup. She picked it up, cracking the lid, and placing it in the microwave on the nearby counter. As the whirring noise continued, she grabbed a spoon from a drawer and a pen. She wrote a quick “Thank you!” on the note before placing the pen back in its place. Once the microwave began beeping incessantly, she opened the door, grabbed the container, and went to sit down at the nearby table. 

Jerome popped his head around the corner and grinned.

“Hey, sis! How’d the dogwalking go?”

Melodie rolled her eyes at her brother. “Can’t a girl eat in peace?”

Jerome walked over to her spot and plopped down across from her, a wide grin on his face. “Nope!”

Melodie sighed heavily, kicking his shins under the table. “Whaddya want, Jerome?”

Jerome’s face shifted to a perfect picture of innocence. “Can’t I sit and chat with my only sister?”

“Nope,” Melodie threw back at him. 

“Damn, should have known.” He snapped his fingers as he spun in his seat and pouted.

The two siblings glanced at each other before both broke down laughing. The two had been close since their mother had passed on ten years previously, relying on each other and their father to survive. Years of hospital bills plus the funeral costs left the family bankrupt and homeless, but they stuck together through all of it. It was the one promise their mother made them make to each other before she died. 

“Oh, your boyfriend’s getting better at busking,” Jerome remarked as their giggles subsided. 

Melodie coughed to clear her throat, a look of confusion crossing her face as she did. “Boyfriend?”

“Arthur, dummy,” Jerome quipped. 

Melodie felt her cheeks grow warm and kicked Jerome harder under the table. “Arthur is not my boyfriend, dumbass.”

Jerome rubbed his shin and grimaced despite the smirk on his face. “Doesn’t mean you don’t look at him like you want to cuddle him like a teddy bear, and you already coddle him so much.”

“He looks like he needs a hug!” she exclaimed, waving her spoon in the air dramatically.

“And you gave him your favorite stuffed animal,” Jerome pointed out.

“He looked sad! And it seems to be helping him. You said yourself his nightmares decreased after that,” Melodie countered. 

Jerome grinned wickedly. “And I heard you and Sabrina talking crushes two nights ago. I recognized your type instantly.”

Melodie glared at her younger brother before grabbing her soup cylinder and guzzling the contents so she didn’t have to look at her brother’s stupid face. She placed it down and saw the young man they had been discussing turn the corner. She turned her eyes to the napkin on the table and quickly wiped her mouth. Jerome noticed the change in his sister’s demeanor and turned around.

“Hey, Arthur!”

Melodie nodded as she cleaned her face. Damn, why now of all times? She tried to ignore Arthur as she scrunched up the napkin, hoping her mouth wasn’t still smeared with soup. The young man stepped into the room.

“Hello,” he replied quietly. 

Arthur was always quiet. Zach commented that a mouse could make more noise than Arthur could. It was the first thing that Melodie noticed. Arthur never voiced his opinion on things around the house, whether about the meals they shared or any lack of blankets if it got cold. It was if he was a shadow, only taking as much space as he allowed himself to. The flinching and sudden panic attacks hinted at something much worse in his past, but Melodie didn’t pry into those instincts. Instead, she offered him comfort and support when she could. She knew he would come around to talking about it when he was ready. For now, he seemed content to stay silent.

Jerome pulled over a chair and motioned for Arthur to join them. “Sit down, Art.”

Arthur glanced at the chair and then shook his head. “I’m just here to get water,” he replied. Melodie stood from the table and placed her soup cylinder in the sink before opening the fridge to grab three bottles of water. “Are you headed to bed already?”

Arthur nodded. “It’s… it’s been a long day.”

Jerome gave Arthur a small smile as Melodie handed them both a water bottle. “Well, sleep well. I’ll try not to wake you when I come to bed. Should be an hour or so.”

Arthur nodded again, and took the bottle from Melodie’s hand. She smiled at him encouragingly. His own mouth contorted into the tiniest curve of a smile back. Melodie felt a spark of happiness run through her stomach. It was something, at least. She watched as he walked away from the table and towards the stairs. 

Jerome shot Melodie a teasing grin. She stuck her tongue out at him before glancing at the stairs. Hopefully, Arthur would be okay. She couldn’t help but worry that it would all come to a head one day. She only hoped they would be able to help him.

-

Artemis was running, though from what he couldn’t tell. There were hallways, some familiar and some not. Something was behind him. Please, he heard his voice plead, I didn’t mean to! I’ll be good, please, I’ll be good!

He ran until suddenly the hallway was a room. His eyes widened when he realized where he was. He spun around to see someone struggling in a medical chair, screaming for help and crying out in pain. He screamed as well. Arms grabbed him from behind, and he heard himself beg and sob for help, for mercy, for them to not hurt him. He was sorry, he wouldn’t do it again, please, don’t hurt him, he’d be good, he swore! He fought desperately against the hands on his body as he was dragged onto the now bloody medical chair. His sobs echoing in his head.

“Arthur?” 

The sight of blood, and his own eyeball staring back at him from the waste tray among blood-soaked bandages. 

“Arthur?”

Pain, stabbing. His throat hurt with searing pain. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Help!

“Arthur!”

He was on the floor. Someone stood over him with something sharp in their hands. No, please! I’m sorry! No!

“Arthur! Arthur, breathe! It’s me, Melodie. It’s just me!”

A sudden shock as if he had fallen from a great height. His eyes flew open as he sprung upright, almost smacking his head against Melodie’s. She was leaning over him, worry written clear on her face. Jerome stood next to her wearing the same expression. 

“Breathe, Arthur. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you,” Melodie asked, her voice gentle and soothing. Artemis couldn’t focus on anything in front of him, shame filling his chest and head.

“Do you need me to get Dad and Ms. Kenneth?” Jerome asked.

“N-no, I-I’m fine,” Artemis stuttered, his hands still shaking considerably. Now you’ve done it, they were all trying to sleep, and you’ve ruined their night, Spiro’s voice mocked him. Stupid, selfish bitch.

Melodie lightly tapped the floor next to him. It was a rhythm she’d used before, and Artemis found his fingers tapping out the same rhythm. Focus, it said. Breathe.

“You’re okay now,” she said quietly. “No one’s here to hurt you.”

Artemis nodded despite the tightness in his chest. He felt like he was going to burst, though he wasn’t sure if he needed to scream or cry. Or perhaps both.

Melodie smiled at him and opened her palm to him. He placed his hand in hers, feeling her warm fingers brush his cold and clammy skin. Safe, this said. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, and his heart clenched. He squeezed her hand as if to beg her not to go. She squeezed back as tears began flowing down his cheeks.

Jerome sat down beside him, just close enough for him to reach if need be. Artemis’s thin chest began heaving as sobs escaped his lips. It hurt to breathe, but he couldn’t stop. Hesitantly, Jerome gently wrapped an arm around Artemis’s shoulders as Melodie moved to sit on his other side.

They both sat there next to him for the rest of the night, till Artemis cried himself to sleep wrapped in their arms. The siblings fell asleep not long afterwards, neither wanting to leave their friend to the nightmares that haunted his mind.

When Lawrence found them the next morning, he smiled at the sight and left the room as quietly as possible. He would wake them later. Taglist: @artemis-fowl-angst

@homunculus101 Jerome and Melodie are bestest buds. Artemis is grateful, even if he thinks he doesn't deserve them.

[truthfuladult]

As a late bloomer, at the age of 30, I gave my first blowjob. I want to preference this with everything was consensual and safe.

All I can do is process all of this. I think this is the harder (pun not intended) part of being a late bloomer. Am I supposed to be embarrassed? By not knowing how to do this? Well no, but the inner self of my mind says otherwise.

I have religious trauma that impacts a lot, but in this moment, something was different.

I wanted to watch a movie with you, no insinuation but clearly things shifted. I think its still hard to believe you could want me. I’m a plus size girlie and while I’m okay with my body which took a long time to learn to love, I am not sure im okay with it in others presence. But you didn’t seem to care.

You picked me up for boba, and you held the door for me. You held the door for me every time, and I feel like you would have open the car door for me if I had waited.

You asked me if I wanted snacks for the movies, I was okay, but you wanted some so we went. (The last date I was on, at the end he took me to the grocery store which was weird and bought groceries). This was not that. You got me involved and wanted to buy snacks I liked for the movie we were going to watch. I said we should get you snacks because I wasn’t that hungry. But you wanted me to choose to see what I liked. At every turn, what do you like. And when I chose you threw it in the cart. You paid for our snacks and boba.

You pay every time we go out. You hold the door for me. You kiss me on my forehead and you rub your nose with mine. You treat me with romance. I don’t know how to handle that.

I have always been the outsider. I read about romance, I listen and watch love songs and movies. I never thought and had grown to accept that I would never have romance.

My dates before me: didn’t dress up, didn’t insist on paying, didn’t always ask me my favorite things. You treat me so differently. And we have good chemistry.

I like kissing you very much, I like when you kiss my neck. During the movie, I have never seen and it was a favorite of yours. I wanted to watch, but of course when you kiss me, I get caught up in it. Its just so much fun and it makes me feel sexy to feel wanted by you. Though I don’t believe you when you verbalize it, but I feel that for myself.

Long kissed turn to fast kisses, wet kisses, neck kissing to you removing my leggings and panties. Im familiar with this part, but still nervous. As I am bare for you, with my belly showing. Like I said, I have learned to love myself but showing someone my body is such a vulnerable state. You roamed your fingers until they found the spot. Then you flicked my clit. You stuck your fingers into me. This is the part where it usually hurts, but I didn’t feel it. I just wanted more. Lost in the feeling closing my eyes and moaning in abandonment. When opened my eyes, your pants were down and I knew you wanted to stick your dick in me. I had to stop it. I wasn’t ready for that part.

And you stopped, I had to be honest with you and tell you I was a virgin. Thought it would scare you or make you think I was odd. But you said it was okay, that you understood and only wanted to go as slow as I wanted no pressure. Then you voiced you wanted to keep fingering me. And I said yes.

Im okay with under the shirt stuff. Through this the movie kept playing. I may have lost count how many times you put your fingers in me, how many times you flicked my clit. How many times you pumped your fingers so hard I felt an odd sensation in my channel. As Im writing this, I can still feel your fingers even when you’re not here. Nothing felt bad, just different. I could see the look in your face, lust.

You told me you wanted me. Said I was beautiful, at one point sexy, another time hot, and it was hard to believe. But you gave me pleasure, and I wanted to return it. I really did, but didn’t know how.

When I voiced it, you asked me if I ever gave a blow job, no I’ve read about them but have never even seen a penis in real life. “Really? Well do you want to?” And I shyly did. I out my head on your chest as you pulled your dick out. Seen it limp, touched it and felt it hardened. It’s like the books describe it: velvety. I saw the skin move up and down as I stroked it, you said that was normal when I asked. I said men are weird. You laughed at that. I felt the round top, soft. Felt the pre-cum, hot. You said I could lick it. I voiced I didn’t know how. Like a lollipop or ice cream. I said I don’t have a strong gag-reflex and you said that was okay, you didn’t like it all the way in either.

I felt safe with you. So I licked it like you said. I put my lips all over it. Like a lollipop you said, put my tongue in the slit, tasted your pre-cum. I was too shy to finish but watched as you stroked yourself. I got on your lap and kissed you. You fingered me again. Laid me on the couch and really used your fingers.

I took you to my room. No sex, you were okay with that. We made out, you fingered me as I stroked you. We cuddled naked. You were with my body completely naked as you were. We talked, I learned your last name and you learned mine. You said you wanted to bring me flowers on the first date but didn’t want to scare me. A boy has never bought me flowers. I said you’re a romantic person.

Then when we checked the time it was late. I wanted to you to stay but also wasn’t ready for that. You said you understood. We both changed and I put on my jammies and took out my contacts for glasses. You said I looked beautiful in glasses. I smile because i’m awkward. I kissed goodbye.

I replay a lot of this. All my moments with you I replay. I like them, but i wonder if its enough. There’s so much more to talk about. I think I might want sex with you, but I want it to be special and mean something. Will that be enough. I know you like me, you’ve told me so. I like you too, but I don’t know if I could be a partner, a girlfriend, which I know is what you want. I want to move in a few years, this place is all you know. You don’t mention your culture, I bring mine up sometimes. Its important to me. But I guess we have more to talk about.

I think i like you. Im processing how this all works and keep asking myself: is this enough for you for now?

[gallavich-headcanon]

Hmm, we can call this a post canon AU, lol.

I think Mickey is absolutely someone who often needs to square things in his own head before he commits. Sort of like when he came out, once he did it, he did it and fuck anyone who gives him shit about it even if he was still coming to terms with it. He says in canon that he likes things he can see and touch as opposed to imagination so I think he’s the type to turn stuff over in his head, consider all the angles he can think of, and once he feels solid enough about it, he plows forward.

So yeah, the idea of a trial run with Tony’s toddler is right up his alley, I think. He doesn’t wanna get Ian’s hopes up but he also doesn’t wanna make it a big deal or have to fucking talk about it so rent-a-kid it is. (I’m gonna call her Abigail. All the Milkovich kids’ names can be nicknames for saint names which I find super interesting as unexplored worldbuilding.)

Between Liam and Franny, Mickey’s probably got the most experience with kids Nicky and Tommy’s age so I def think he’d be pretty comfortable with them. I don’t remember us seeing a lot of Mickey caring for Yev until Yev was a bit older? There was Svet and Mandy around plus Mickey was dealing with Ian being sick for the initial time, iirc. So I could see Mickey being a lot more hesitant about an actual tiny, can’t hold their own head up baby. This would also help reconcile the difference between wedding day Mickey saying “plenty of strays running around the neighborhood” vs his reaction to Ian wanting the crib. Something along the lines of the difference between a kid big enough to be more of an independent being versus a baby totally dependent on you? Probably some childhood, too-small to fight back trauma to unpack there.

Also, shhhh, let’s pretend I didn’t fuck up and write Joey when I meant Jamie. The baby is Jamie’s and she’s barely a few months old, I think. I have a soft spot for Jamie since he helped with the Gallavich wedding and came real close to getting his ass beat by Terry for them. I think after what happened in the show, Mandy takes every precaution to avoid getting pregnant. Idk that I see her having kids really, but maybe. But the baby, who I’m gonna call Ruth bc 1, Ruthie is an adorable nickname and Ian would absolutely call her that, and 2, the Baby Ruth jokes write themselves and Mickey without a doubt gets so much joy over yelling “Yo, Baby Ruth!” across the parking lot when she’s in high school. He is 100% the dad who embarrasses his kids in good fun whenever he can.

Ian is a better person than I am-> Ian is just glad Mickey isn’t killing someone, stealing something, or in jail. His only thought as he knocked on the door (he left his keys since he was going through airport security) was ‘if he’s doing sketchy shit again, I’m handcuffing him to the radiator’ which yeah, has potential but not if Mickey goes back to prison. Kids, Ian can handle. Ian loves kids. Unless these kids are stolen. Wait a minute. Mick? Mickey, unlock the door. Damnit, Milkovich, get your ass out here and explain!

(Mick does explain and Ian does make the soft dopey face and they get to kiss for exactly two minutes before getting hit in the side of the head with a toy car that Nicky and Tommy each swear the other threw.) 🦖

Hello my dear 🦖 anon!

So yeah, the idea of a trial run with Tony’s toddler is right up his alley -> Yeah, I agree! He doesn’t wanna get Ian’s hopes up but he also doesn’t wanna make it a big deal or have to fucking talk about it so rent-a-kid it is. -> hahaha rent-a-kid! I do think Mickey got a lot better with talking about how he feels, so in my head the have been kinda talking about being open to taking a foster kid or something but just theoretically. I just don't like the idea of Mickey springing this on Ian completely out of nowhere, you know? I feel like if he feels like he's mature enough to take care of a kid, he would at least make it through a couple of conversations about kids...

I like the name Abigail! And Ruth! Side question- what last names do they get? I am an avid believer that Mickey will take Ian's last name, even without kids, (for many reasons) but this is your headcanon, my friend! So I'm wondering what's your headcanon?

I don’t remember us seeing a lot of Mickey caring for Yev until Yev was a bit older? -> yeah because s4 cuts with I&M moving in with Svetlana and Yevgeny in the middle of the winter (Yevgeny was also born in beginning of that winter I think), we blink and s5 is in the summer. so we missed a whole lot but Ian seems incredibly comfortable, so I am assuming he and Mickey took care of him? but mostly Ian. But again, this is a headcanon, we can change canon to whatever we feel like.

a kid big enough to be more of an independent being versus a baby totally dependent on you -> Yeah, I think this is their compromise or at least the one Mickey makes in his head? Giving Ian the small and cute part but insisting on something that can kinda communicate?

I also have a soft spot for Jamie! I love seeing his name pop up in fics! I wish we got more scenes with the nice, not homophobic Milkovichs. Mandy would be careful, but I feel like she wouldn't hesitate to leave her baby with Ian and Mickey if for some reason she had it and didn't think she could keep it safe...

Mickey is 100% the dad who embarrasses his kids in good fun whenever he can.  Truer words were never spoken.

You killed me with Ian just enjoying being with the kids while Mickey hides out, just chilling, taking comfort in the fact that Mickey isn't doing illegal shit until- he just has to make sure, you know? He's not blaming him, he's just making sure. Because he loves the idea of having the kids, but not if he's alone with them because Mickey is IN PRISON AGAIN.

Legends say it's the longest kiss they got to have uninterrupted for the next 4 years. (well, at least until the kids are asleep in their beds.)

[hertzwritings]

And they were roommates, chapter 3

A/N: I AM OKAY!! I can write and post!!! YESSSS SICKNESS WILL NOT GET ME DOWN – nor will it keep me away from writing this story, that I already love so much. This was a commissioned piece by @thelastpyle​ and I LOVE it.

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a drabble, one-shot or multichapter fic, that’s completely personalized – you want Henry Cavill to be a clown by trade, but a vigilante by night? YOU GOT IT. Need a Chris Evans Royal AU? GOT IT.

Love y’all so much! Remember, feedback feeds the soul, and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s not limits, because I am me and I have none.

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Henry Cavill x plus sized!Reader (roommate AU)

Contains: Language, fluff, a little more flirting, angst, mentions of medical trauma, mentions of a car crash, descriptions of face and chest wounds, descriptions of wounds, mentions of blood, mentions of self-doubt

W.C.: 2.721

 How to save a life

  Two months

 There wasn’t a lot that would get on your nerves normally – no, you would consider yourself pretty darn chill in your everyday life. But this was not everyday life, nor was it chill.

You were ready to explode.

Ever since moving in with Henry and Kal, you had managed to get a careful friendship on its feet – you were both respectful of the other person, you joked around, and he helped with the small and big things. Two months had gone by, and you were still surprised at just how level-headed he was – there wasn’t any pompous feelings from him, and the man had blushed when he came home and saw you watching the Tudors. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the most savory thing to watch, when you roommate was pretty naked and had copious amounts of sex, but it was one of your comfort-shows. 

You made sure Kal was happy and took him on walks, even sent Henry snapchats of Kal doing weird dog-things (who knew Henry Cavill had snapchat?), to make him laugh on long days on set. Your friendship contained a lot of movies and games – Henry had been downright appalled that you hadn’t seen the Hellraiser-series, although he refused to watch the one, he was in – and had almost made a vein pop, when you casually had told him, that you hadn’t played much more than Donkey Kong.

He was, if you were honest, a sweetheart and he was aware of you in more ways, than you had expected him to be. He brought you tea and food whenever you were studying, because he wanted to make sure you didn’t die of dehydration or starvation, he often had one of your comfort-shows going whenever you got home from the hospital; it was his subtle way of making sure, that you were okay. It was nice.

What wasn’t nice was having an exam in less than a week, no sleep, plenty of work to do and a roommate, that rehearsed lines every, single, goddamn day and did it loudly. You were going to combust if you had to hear him growl mine anymore times. It was grating, but mostly, it shot you straight through your body with a very weird sense of lust and possessiveness – and you couldn’t focus on anything while he did it.

You threw your pen down and decided that you simply couldn’t study with him inside of the house, so you grabbed your things, stuffing them angrily in your backpack and stomped out of your room. He was pacing in the living room, his eyes narrowed at his script and Kal on his back in the corner of the room.  

“Oh, hey, Y/N.” He waved at you, eyes still on the script. “I made lemon squares earlier, if you want one.” That did actually sound pretty delicious, but you were snappy and tired and annoyed, so you just huffed and threw your backpack on the ground, before going to the kitchen to grab a few water bottles to stuff in your bag.

“Are you okay?” His voice was dripping honey and worry. “Yes, I am just peachy, roomie.” You gave him a tense smile. “I couldn’t be better.” “Oof. I feel like I’m about to get told off.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and cocked his head to the side.

You threw your hands in the air and rolled your eyes.

“No, no, you just keep doing you, I’ll just take my studies somewhere else so I can get my degree, because your rehearsing is way more important than me knowing how to do a tracheostomy.” You said. You knew you were being snippy and probably over the line, but you were about to lose your shit. “Woah, what’s going on? You’re being awfully snappy today. In the non-sarcastic way, which, by the way, is my favorite way.” He asked and walked to stand in front of you, his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, thanks for checking in, I’m still a piece of garbage…” You sang under your breath. Henry looked confused. “It’s a Vine, it was…” You sighed. “Doesn’t matter, I’m fine. I’m just about to break my back with the literal weight of schoolbooks, but I’m fiiiiiiine.” You said with a fake and very tight smile. You ignored the small flurry of butterflies in your stomach when his hands warmed your shoulders. “Darling…. How long have you been studying for?” He asked gently. “I don’t know. Does it matter?” You replied with a cocked brow. “I think it does.” You sighed and glanced at the clock. “Uh… Maybe like 7 hours?” He blinked slowly. “I’m sorry? Without food?” You frowned. “I’ve been studying.” You answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “For 7 hours?? Jesus, Y/N, you’re going to kill yourself!” You chuckled. “No, I am not. I’m just very conscious of the fact that I might fail, then be jobless, then homeless and then possibly die of something very unsanitary, but it’s totally cool.” He rolled his eyes. “And I did have fluids, I’ll have you know.”

“Coffee and energy-drinks doesn’t count.” “It contains water.” You retorted and he chuckled at you, before fully taking in your appearance. The dark circles under your eyes and the pallor of your skin were clearly enough for him to make up his mind. “Nope. This?” He gestured to your face. “Won’t do. Come on, get dressed, I’m forcing you outside.” “I am dressed.” You pouted and followed his eyes down your body. He bit back a grin and raised an eyebrow. “Sure, you are. Although I love seeing you all relaxed and comfortable, I think you’d be happier wearing something that doesn’t resemble anything from The Walking Dead. The zombies, not the people.” You frowned. Okay, maybe your oversized Led Zeppelin t-shirt had a few holes in it. And yeah, maybe your sweatpants had both paint and some toothpaste and maybe something unidentifiable on them, but that didn’t make it awful. It was comfy and hid away a large part of your body, that you didn’t need to look at. “I’m serious, although I do really like this look on you. Relaxed suits you.” He winked at you and took his hands away from your shoulders, leaving them feeling oddly cold.

  “Fine. I’ll change.” You didn’t know what the hell he was planning, but on the other hand, you couldn’t make yourself look at more fine print for a few hours, or your eyes might actually roll out of your head. “But I need to get back to studying after.” “Sure, sure. Come on, meet me at the front door in 30 minutes.” He didn’t sound convincing at all.

-----------

“Is this the moment, you tell me you’re actually a serial killer, and the acting is just a front?” You asked, stepping out of the car in the middle of fuck-all nowhere. You had been driving for 30 minutes, Henry dressed casually but comfortable, the sound of slow jazz filling the car. The darkness had settled during the drive, and you found yourself surprisingly at ease with the quiet around you.   He chuckled and took your hand, leading you down a narrow path nestled between trees. “No, but I’ll keep in mind not to bring other dates here, then.” He said with a smile. Your heart stuttered.

Other dates. Like this was a date.

You walked with him until a small diner popped up, seemingly out of nowhere, resting amongst trees with a view of a grand lake behind it. String lights lit up the entire front of it, and a sign, haggard by the weather and years, spelled out Lucy’s.   “Oh, wow.” “Found it a few years ago. I come here a lot when I need to clear my head. Which, it would seem, you desperately need.” You chuckled a little at that. “I might.” He led you inside, where you were greeted by an older woman, smiling broadly, who rushed to hug Henry. “There’s my favorite superstar. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She said with slight accusation in her tone. Henry rolled his eyes playfully. “Not even a month, Lucy, and you already miss me?” She laughed and looked to you with a soft and welcoming smile. It felt almost maternal. “And who might you be? Henry never brings people here.” She held her hand out to you and you took it with a smile. “Y/N. Henry’s roommate.” She shot him a pointed look, and he ever so slightly shook his head. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, darling. Come on, let me seat you.” She took you to a table, that overlooked the lake and you sat down with a smile, watching the soft waves crashing against the shoreline. “It’s really nice.” You said as he handed you a menu. “Food’s even better.” You looked over the menu and decided to get whatever fish ’n’ chips they had, with the biggest drink, you could get your hands on. Lucy returned and took your orders, winking at henry, and left you again. “She seems…” “Grandmotherly?” Henry laughed. “Yeah. I love her, honestly. She’s a wonderful woman and she treats me like a person, not just a name.” He looked at you with a soft smile on his lips. “Kind of like you do.” “Are you telling me I look like a grandmother?” you retorted playfully, not really comfortable with the intimacy of his words. “Indeed I am.” You both laughed. “So… Why are you so convinced you’re not going to get through this exam? You seem like you know more than is useful, at this point.” He asked, sipping his drink that Lucy had put in front of him. You mirrored him. “I… I don’t know. I guess I just doubt myself a whole lot, and I just really want to make sure… I do a good job. I want to help people. I can’t let them down, you know?” You said slightly flustered. “Y/N, you can’t let people down, you haven’t even met.” He said quietly. “I might be overstepping here, but I feel like there’s something else in it for you.” You sighed but didn’t answer. How could you?

Lucy thankfully reappeared with your food, and conversation was effectively cut short as you both dug in. It was amazing. Maybe it was because you hadn’t had anything to eat all day, maybe it was the vibe, but it was by far the best food you’d ever eaten. You weren’t even worried how you looked as you ate.   “I think this is the first time, I’ve seen you eat in front of me.” Henry noted and you swallowed thickly. Had it been? You often went to your own room or told him you’d eat later – you hated the way people would look at you as you ate. “Oh, uhm… Yeah, it might be.” “I like it.” “Watching me eat?” you lifted your eyebrow. “Do you have a secret feeder-kink or something?” He laughed heartily. “No, I just… I’m happy you feel comfortable enough to do it.” Oh. You fell back into silence, looking at the water and the stars outside of the window.

“I was in an accident, when I was a teenager.” You finally said, your voice stronger than you felt like you were. He looked at you, waiting. Well, it was now or never. “I, uh… We were driving, my mom and my dad. It was raining really heavily; the roads were slick, and they were goofing around.” You swallowed thickly. “I, uh, I was being an idiot and asked them to turn the radio up more, because I couldn’t hear it over the rain.” Your hands were clammy now, and you took a sip of your drink to distract yourself a little.

“My dad lost control of the car at the same time. I didn’t really see what happened, but I remember headlights blinding me. Then, the car was on its head and smoke was coming from somewhere and the goddamn song was still going.” You chuckled dryly. “It was Wrecking ball, just to make it more stupid.” Your eyes were misty, and you turned to look out of the window to avert his gaze. “I… Well, I only really remember flashes of it. My legs were pretty torn up. I had been flung almost sideways out of the car, my seatbelt was faulty, apparently. A piece of the window had lodged itself a millimeter from my spine.” You swallowed again, desperate to just get out with it. “My dad… Uh… I didn’t see. Not really, I mean, I saw the blood and how still he was. My mom… Uh, she… her face was pretty much torn in half. So was her chest. I tried to help, but I couldn’t move and all I could hear was her mumbling something, but I couldn’t understand her over the music. I was screaming my lungs out for an hour, while the rescuers cut me free.” When did his hand wrap around yours?

  “I was pretty badly wounded. I almost died on the table several times. Huge internal hemorrhage, they had a hard time controlling. I could’ve been paralyzed if the glass had gone into my spine.” You drew a deep breath. “My parents didn’t make it. That’s why I wanted to do this… Go to medical school. I want to help, not be stuck somewhere with nothing to do. If I don’t get through my exams, I’m literally throwing lives away. Or, at least, that’s how I feel.” He was quiet for some time, just holding your hand.

“Is that why I needed to come get you from the hospital?” He asked softly. “Yeah. Massive pileup on the highway. Couldn’t deal.” You answered in a clipped voice. He nodded and held your hand a little tighter. “You know… You did deal, right? You were there. People, humans, aren’t meant to deal with the level of hurt you see on a daily basis, and with your experience… I would’ve cracked under it.” He said softly. “I think you’re a really strong person, Y/N. I really, really, do. But you’re not throwing lives away or screwing anybody or anything over, by choosing not to study yourself to death. You’re still going to do amazing, but you need to think of you first.” You cleared your throat and wiped a stray tear away. “I mean it. It’s okay to chose you first, love.” He smiled at you and for the first time, despite having heard the words over and over again, repeated by strangers and therapists alike, you began to believe it. Just a little. “Thank you.” You smiled at him. “What for?” He asked and pulled his hand back. “For not giving me the eyes. Or the oh no, I’m so sorry-spiel.” You smiled. “It’s nice, just to be heard.” He beamed at you.

“that’s what friends are for, right?” You nodded and he called Lucy over to pay for the dinner – he blankly refused your card, and put a 50 % tip in, although Lucy rolled her eyes and called him an idiot – and you left together. Your heart was a little lighter.

You found the couch as soon as you got home, Kal jumping up and cuddling into your side. You hugged him and fell back against the soft pillows, feeling just how much the last few days had taken a toll on you. “Do you want peppermint or jasmine-tea? It’s all we got.” He called from the kitchen, something clattering. “Uh… Maybe just jasmine.” You said tiredly.

You didn’t notice that you drifted off, Kal held close to your chest and head lolling slightly to the side. You also didn’t notice Henry watching the two of you, cuddling on the couch, his hands full of tea. He set them down, slowly so the sound wouldn’t wake you up, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He snapped a photo, a smile etched on his face – yes, you might’ve been roommates for two months, and maybe he was a hopeless romantic, but he couldn’t help himself from changing his background to your face, softly smiling in your sleep, while you held Kal as if he was your own.

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[thebluespirit83]

debunking pro-snape/anti-james arguments and putting it on the internet because clearly i hate myself. buckle up. this is gonna be a VERY long post. im ready for the amount of hate i will get; im willing to take one for the team. 

1. james forced lily into dating/marrying/etc him 

this literally never happened? because its almost as if lily is her own person who is able to stand up for herself-

“I wouldn’t go out with you if it was a choice between you and the giant squid,” said Lily.

“LEAVE HIM ALONE!” Lily shouted. She had her own wand out now. James and Sirius eyed it warily.

She turned on her heel and hurried away [from james]. 

-and so she would not allow someone to walk all over her. its almost as if james (canonically) matured as a person, and she appreciated this, realised he was a good person and got feelings for him? because james’ only negative traits were that he was conceited and a show off. people are able to mature and grow from these things! james did this! he did not ‘force’ lily to go out with him!

2. james and the other marauders bullied snape

you know what, i cant even disagree with this one. you’re right - they did bully him. but lets look a little bit at the context. 

sirius and james were both upper class, naive white rich boys. they are idiots. they were both stupid smart teenagers!! they were popular! and while this does not excuse the gross bullying snape was subject to-

Pink soap bubbles streamed from Snape’s mouth at once; the froth was covering his lips, making him gag, choking him

Several people watching laughed; Snape was clearly unpopular ... Snape was trying to get up, but the jinx was still operating on him; he was struggling, as though bound by invisible ropes.

-it (unfortunately) makes sense with context. james and sirius also stopped bullying people, and even expressed discomfort/regret with the way they acted-

“I’m not proud of it,” said Sirius quickly.

“Of course he was a bit of an idiot!” said Sirius bracingly, “we were all idiots!

[sirius talking to remus] you made us feel ashamed of ourselves sometimes

A lot of people are idiots at the age of fifteen. He grew out of it.

-when they were younger! i’d also like to point out these little lines i noticed when i was finding quotes for my argument which snape stans like to ignore:

James and Snape hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other

I mean, he [snape] never lost an opportunity to curse James

there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood

wow, look at that. the hate they felt for each other was mutual! snape also jinxed james! but oh wait - james was the one who matured! snape was the one who bullied his son twenty years later because he looked like james! 

3. snape didnt abuse the kids at hogwarts 

here’s a real argument i saw when looking through some pro-snape posts: ‘snape wasn’t an abuser, because abusers don’t let their victims retaliate, but snape did let the kids talk back to him’

what. the. fuck?! 

this is the dictionary.com definition of abuse: ‘to treat in a harmful, injurious, or offensive way’ or ‘to speak insultingly, harshly, and unjustly to or about’. i’m pretty sure snape did both of these things-

“I don’t need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!”

“So,” said Snape, gripping Harry’s arm so tightly Harry’s hand was starting to feel numb.

Snape threw Harry from him with all his might.

[hermione’s teeth]  "I see no difference."

‘Idiot boy!’ snarled Snape [at neville]

-on multiple occasions. i’d also like to remind you guys that neville’s worst fear is SNAPE?! his TEACHER, a figure that is supposed to be there for emotional and educational support is his worst fear in this entire world?! above the woman who drove his parents to insanity? over failure, over his abusive grandmother, over everything? his teacher? and for the pro-snaper that used this quote-

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically.

-to claim that it was a joke, it isn’t a joke. because when snape came out of that cupboard, he was terrified. yes, it’s an embarrassing thing to have as your boggart, but the point is is that it is. he is terrified of that man. 

4. james only joined the order because his wife was a muggleborn and he ‘had to’

this is just factually incorrect. james had been sticking up for muggleborn rights since he was in school, far before he started dating or even became friends with lily: 

“Apologize to Evans!” James roared at Snape, his wand pointed threateningly at him.

“I’d NEVER call you a - you-know-what!”

so this is literally not true!! plus, at least he did join the order, whatever his reasons where (which were canonically good). snape didnt join the order. snape was friends with someone who suffered discrimination in society, and instead of using his privilege to help her and support her, he joined a group that was set on murdering people like her. when james had a friend who underwent oppression (remus/lycanthropy) you know what he did? he illegally became an animagus. 

5. snape had to be a death eater to survive at hogwarts as he roomed with blood supremacists

this is the shittiest excuse i have ever seen in my entire life. as a poc, this comment really reminds me of the argument ‘i was raised in a racist white household! i cant control my beliefs!’

you can always control your beliefs. i understand not going on big rants about blood inequality in front of a bunch of supremacists, and i understand wanting to blend and fit in (especially because he was unpopular and needed the support the slytherin boys provided), but i will never understand then becoming an active member of the group yourself. he got the dark mark. he helped voldemort. he was a death eater, and a proud one at that! no-one forced him to join. this argument literally makes my blood boil. 

6. snape had a lot of trauma from being raised in an abusive household

okay? so did sirius. so did neville. luna was bullied at school, just like snape. harry lived in an abusive household. did any of those people bully children? did any of those people join a blood supremacist group? and dont get me wrong, im not calling any of these people perfect - they all had a lot of flaws - but none of them hurt another people to the extreme that snape did. 

7. snape saved the trio’s lives many times

this is the absolute bare minimum. ‘oh wow, he didnt let harry die!! what a king! he should be respected and praised! we should excuse all of his other actions because he didnt let people die <3′ 

8. snape is not a perfect person, he also did good that many people overlook

you’re right, snape did do some good things in his life. but unfortunately, for me and many others, doing a couple of good things doesnt excuse all of the shitty, abusive things he did too. we’re not ignoring them - we just dont think they’re good enough reasons to forgive him. 

‘but james and sirius hurt others! you ignore all the bad things they did in favour of the good!’ you do the same thing with snape, first of all. second, they did a lot of good stuff. james’ and sirius’ only crimes were being annoying. for being a bit of a dick, conceited, knew they were hot and were a bit entitled. while these things are annoying as fuck, they were also stupid teens that eventually grew out of their behaviour and became better people. not perfect! better. while snape just stayed bitter at the marauders, long after their deaths, and even took his anger out on an innocent child. 

9. people only hate snape because he was poc and queer coded

as a poc and queer person, please stop. this is a very bad excuse. being poc and queer (which im pretty sure he isnt, but anyway) doesnt excuse you from your actions. plus, a huge amount of harry potter readers are poc and lgbtq. why would they hate snape for those reasons?! 

so thats all i got for today. im not gonna go into a deep snily/jily thing because i literally cannot be bothered. anyway im done. i need to go revise, i’ve already spent long enough on this. 

[deidearly]

Kakashi Relationship Headcanons

Guess who’s back with another relationship headcanon today? And as usual, I had a good time writing this one even got slightly carried away, hehe. Enjoy! XX. 

Well— Hatake Kakashi, huh? Dating him would be such a roller coaster ride, tbh. It’s like, one moment he’s so clingy, fragile, so afraid of losing you— but one moment he’s like, “Just do what you need to do. I don’t really care.” This is due to the fact that he’s got a lot of things in his mind and occasionally struggled to sort out his priorities. 

Anyway, of course you’ve complained about his ‘reading-smut-in-public’ issue, especially when you’re together. You two would come up with an agreement somehow. But to piss you off, he’d pretend like you’re the one who’s obsessed with reading smuts.

You’re browsing for some important books and he playfully yelled, “Y/N! Come here, it’s your favorite book— Icha Icha Tactics! My, I know you’ve had four books, but another one won’t hurt, right? Since you love it that much!” making everyone in the bookstore giggled.

He received “Y/N Signature Punch” that day.

To your surprise, he’s not very secretive about his relationship with you. In fact, you’ve caught him frequently use you as an excuse for him to escape some unwanted occasions.

Let’s say Gai was asking Kakashi to fight him like usual— and he wasn’t having it that day. “Gai, with all respect— I would gladly accept your challenge. But can’t you feel the springtime of romance youth is blooming? I must see Y/N immediately.”

Gai’s tearing up.

Don’t worry, he actually went to your place.

“Yo. Can we hang out? I just told Gai that I would come to your place. Please say ‘yes’ to make me less of a jerk, will you?”

Would totally show up in front of your place at an ungodly hour.

At first it surprised you but now you’re used to it.

You just finished your mission, it went pretty well but you felt there were some wasted chances due to your captain’s miscalculation. It’s nearly 2 AM but you caught yourself wide awake, reviewing back your battle– only to got distracted by a knock on your bedroom’s window. Instead of turning your head in surprise, you already knew who it was. To have a little fun for yourself, you ignored the sound, which was later followed by a second knock. Walking over to the window, you saw a silver-haired man with a mask. Although half of his face was covered, it’s obvious that a smile was apparent. “Yo.” he greeted, but you replied with a sigh. “You could actually knock on the door and I’d let you in through the door. It’s something normal people would do, Kakashi.” you grumbled, opening the window for him to get in. “Ah, spare me the lecture!”

So, reverse psychology works best for Kakashi. Like the Icha Icha Tactics– the more you ignore his behavior, he would actually try not to read his book in public like you told him to. But the more you complain, he’d read it in places where he shouldn’t be reading it at all. This method works in almost every cases.

You’ve been dating for weeks, but you haven’t seen his face.

Yes, when kissing, too.

You’ve had enough of kissing fabric. 

You had planned to make a dinner together at his place. He was preparing the dishes and you’re about to finish your cooking, when he suddenly asked, “Hey, Y/N. Have you ever wondered what would I look like under this mask?” You were dying to know actually. So, now you’re stuck with two options: (a) be honest about it, (b) pull out another reverse psychological answer— and you chose the latter. “Huh? Not really,” you shrugged, “I don’t really care so it’s not like I’m eager to see it.” and of course, this was a lie. Kakashi went silent for a while. “Anyway, dinner’s re—“ you swore you could’ve dropped the whole pan when you saw an unfamiliar presence. “Kakashi?” you asked hesitantly. The man looked up with a questioning look, “Why are you blushing?” he replied casually.

“ANYONE WITH A DECENT EYESIGHT WOULD BLUSH TOO, YOU STUPID.”

He’s honestly so heavenly to look at.

Sometimes it’s just too overwhelming to see his whole face, you thought.

It’s safe to say that it’s a privilege to be able to see his face. But due to his immense charm, you’d prefer to have him with a mask on.

“Y/N, I feel naked without my mask—“ , “And I honestly feel like I’m being forced to see an illicit nudity, too. Put your mask on, it’s fine honestly.”

He’s been very good at his job for almost his whole life, a fine shinobi. So, he’s rarely exposed to mundane things, moreover a relationship. Thus, making him quite restrained in expressing himself. Plus, he was labelled with some negative titles, saying how cold-blooded he was and he just decided to live with it. This, obviously, requires a lot of patience.

But he’s determined to change, the first step he took was letting you in— into his life.

It started rocky, though.

He’d say something like how he didn’t care much about you and sadly, he really didn’t.

But as the time went by he realized how your presence has been the one that helped him through it. How you’ve always been there to comfort him, by listening to him, giving him a lot of supports, or simply by reminding him that he’s not completely alone.

And when that moment came, he’s sworn to protect you with all his might.

He had a lot of nightmares, he still does, unfortunately. But when you’re around, your presence eases him up a little.

When you’re not around, however, he’d rather spend all night unhealthily tiring himself until he fall asleep.

His personal favorite would be curling up next to you with his hand around your waist while hiding his face near the crook of your neck as he’s giving you some soft neck kisses.

Again, NECK KISSES.

He had a hard time trying to open up himself fully to you and this applies to romantic gestures, I believe. He surely would take his time to explore you, what you like, and what he likes.

Would shower you with kisses, all over your face without missing a spot. He greatly admires every inches of yourself. 

Body worship, oof.

Lowkey (semi highkey) protective.

Lowkey (semi highkey) a show-off.

Would straight up jump to save you if it’s necessary.

And since he’s a show-off, he lowkey loves PDA— but the soft ones, of course. You two would always get spotted together. He would casually sling his arm around your shoulder or lazily has his hand wrapped around your waist.

Favorite time to spend with you is training together. No matter how many times you’ve told him to “fight with an intent to win” he simply refuses— saying how, he’s “far too powerful” for you.

But deep down he just doesn’t want to hurt you…

Chatting in the middle of a training

“Tsunade-sama hasn’t assigned me any missions lately *throws kunai*” , “Maybe if you threw your kunai accurately, she will. *dodge kunai*” , “Kakashi, shut your pretty mouth up. *throws MORE kunai aggressively*”

When you turned him down while he was showing off his new tricks, though, it weirdly turned him on.

He loves someone powerful, with a right amount of cocky.

Doesn’t talk big. He’s a man of action— his action speaks louder than words!

Doesn’t spoil you that much, though. Because it’s actually him who needs to be spoiled.

Really loves it when you trace your fingers all over his skin— it’s intimately soft, he claimed.

LOVES YOUR SCENT. Has it memorized probably.

He’d prefer someone independent. Someone who could actually take care of themselves instead of relying on him completely. 

Anyone too childish would remind him of Team 7, tbh.

Speaking of Team 7, they would probably be the one to get introduced to you.

Naruto was so shocked to find out that his sensei was capable to develop a romantic feeling towards someone. But he had his doubt— do you really know Kakashi? He started to bombard you with questions to test your knowledge.

“So, do you know what’s Kakashi Sensei’s favorite—“ , “I’ve seen his face. Multiple times.” , “YOU WHAT?”

Complained and sulked about it, “Kakashi Sensei, we’ve trained together for years. How could you?!”

Sakura was confused.

“How? I know he’s probably very handsome under that mask but come on, Y/N, reading smut in public? That’s an absolute no.”

On the contrary, Sasuke was thrilled, internally.

“Yeah. Finally. Old man has someone to annoy besides us. About time.”

He has a pretty bad behavior, too. Unlike Gaara, who’d put an emotionless facade when he’s only in the Kazekage mode, Kakashi would treat you just how he feels like doing it that day. 

Let’s be real, he has so many bottled up feelings inside his heart so it’s not a surprise that someday, somehow, a random painful emotion just hit him— hard, and he shut himself out.

The hospital is the place you immediately visit right after Kakashi’s arrival after a mission because you know he’d be there— reading his book with a few bruises here and there. But this time was a bit different. When he’s hospitalized, he would whine about you not being able to stay more than an hour— but right now you’re puzzled, since he’s been completely silent and avoiding you, answering your questions with a mere shrugs.

Tsunade told you that the mission went pretty well, thanks to Kakashi for eliminating all the enemies on the field, singlehandedly. You automatically knew that it must brought up his past traumas. “Kakashi, it’s not your fault.” you decided to speak, earning a glance from Kakashi, but that’s it. “It’s a mission and you protected all of your comrades!”

“I killed them, Y/N. I didn’t have to, but I did.” he said, with his eyes still glued elsewhere. “Every time I look at my hands, I feel dirty. It reminded me of that—“, “Kakashi, look at me.”

You moved closer to his bed, reaching out your hand and traced your fingers softly on his face. His cheeks were cold, and you could clearly see how he was slightly trembling with teary eyes. “Kakashi, if you didn’t do it— it could’ve been your own comrades. Now they’re safe and sound, thanks to you.”, you paused as he slowly began to move his sight to you. “And if I could meet you way sooner, I would remind you every day that it’s never your fault— it’s never been. You’re a good person, Kakashi. I, and all of us, are forever thankful for the things you’ve done.” you whispered, now wiping a few tears that fell down to his cheeks. A weak smile started to bloom, “I’m forever thankful for you as well, Y/N.”

[with-pleasure-love-and-kinks]

With Pleasure,

Chapter 1: The New Roommate (Part I)

I remember my heart was pounding when I found out I would be rooming with my high school crush that I had spent the better part of the last year obsessing over but always felt too nervous and awkward to ever do anything about. I’ve known JoJo ever since we were eight, we were classmates, and we were teammates, but we were never really friends. I didn’t really think he was all that attractive until our senior year, more specifically it was at his eighteenth birthday, which I was surprised I was even invited to. That was when he began to grow out his hair and fill out more naturally in his lanky body, and it was all on display at his pool party. His thick, black, curly hair always looked amazing whether it had just been freshly styled or he had a serious bedhead hairdo. He had deep, dark brown eyes, sun kissed tan skin, and stood a couple inches taller than my 5’7” stature, plus he had amazing slender legs punctuated with perfect, bubbly butt cheeks. And yet what won me over was his laugh, his loud, honking laugh that would cut through the crowd of noise, and it was a laugh he was obviously shy about. His little, embarrassing imperfection first caught my ear and locked my eyes on to the rest of the whole package. 

I was a couple days late for my move in date, so when I finally arrived at the dorm room my roommate had already settled in and claimed a bed. I didn’t see him when I first entered the room, but I just assumed he was off somewhere on campus, or with one of his many friends. He was much closer to all of our teammates on the baseball team, and he even kept in touch with old teammates from our little league days, but I was always the outsider no matter the roster.

 I began to unpack my backpack and duffel bag before moving onto my suitcase, and at some point while I was arranging my undies into my dresser drawer he stepped out of the shared bathroom and threw himself on his bed. The abrupt sound of his body plopping on his bed startled me, causing me to jump at first, then quickly turn to see my new roommate JoJo looking at me amused by my reaction. I began to panic. I had hoped our first interaction as roommates would’ve gone much smoother, a fresh start, our past behind us. Unfortunately every second of my life is awkward and clumsy.

I regained my composure as quick as I could, but I realized my neatly folded underwear was laid out on my bed, so I had to throw out my hopes of a smooth and cool first interaction and instead  throw my body across my pile of undies to conceal the fact that I still wore tighty whities despite their negative rep. 

“Uhhh…sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. But then again they did call you Fraidy Freddy ever since little league when you were afraid of those menacing fly balls,” he laughed at his own remark with a smirk that showed just how pleased he was with his “wit.”

I felt my face blushing, but I wasn’t sure if it was from my crush ridiculing me about my childhood traumas, or my exposed undies on my bed. “You didn’t scare me, I was just surprised,” I did my best to defend myself. “And please just call me by my last name, please just call me Escarra just like if we were out on the diamond All the years of ridicule from our baseball team ruined my name for me.”

“I would like to believe that I was one of the nicer guys on the team.”

“You were the one that gave me an atomic wedgie at the end of our freshmen season! My butt crack was sore for a week, and my pride was sore for a lot longer than that.”

JoJo shrugged his shoulders at me, “alright, I’ll admit that that was a bit mean, but you did kind of cost us the game.”

“A bit mean? The nicest thing about that was at least you had the decency to do it in private. I was already feeling down from a blown season, but then you had to add insult and injury to it all. You bounced me by my underwear and snapped my waistband on my forehead. Besides all that, I remember pitching seven hitless innings, while my own team was also left hitless. Our all star batter was chasing balls all day.”

“You chose a bad day to wear your white briefs, they were just stretchy enough for a full atomic. Do you still wear those?” JoJo made a wedgie motion while explaining himself.

“No! Do you still choke under the pressure of the big game?” I once again defended myself in the most rudimentary way I knew, insults.

JoJo jumped to his feet and lunged in my direction. I knew his ploy, I knew he wasn’t the violent type, but I still flinched and cowered down. “Typical Frederick the Frightened, the Fearful. You may want to watch your tongue if you don’t want your cheeks split by another wedgie.”

“I’m not gonna tolerate this from you, I’m not afraid to…” I paused and thought of what consequences antagonizing JoJo would bring. This is no way to start off the semester with my new roommate, let alone one that I am crushing on, “you’re right, I’ll watch what I say.”

  “Wow, I didn’t think you would be so obedient. My obsequious, little roommate, what else can I make you do?” 

I groaned, almost growling under my breath, both hating the words he was saying, but loving his possessiveness.

“So are you always this startled and jumpy.” “Oh, sorry, I mean surprised.”

“Well yes, surprised by the sound of the creaky bed, and honestly surprised you’re not out with all your friends on the weekend,” I explained.

“Yeah, right, all my friends,” he appeared to shrug off my response. “I’ve never seen someone “surprised” react the way you just did, so either you were scared, or you’re hiding something over there.”

My heart began thumping, I feared he would come take a closer look at my suitcase and see my tighty whities, “okay, you were right I was scared. Go ahead, laugh and mock all you want.”

“Look, I meant no harm, Fred…err…Escarra. I want a peaceful, problem free, and judgement free year with my new roommate. We’re going to see a lot of each other over the next nine months, so I would like us to be completely cordial and comfortable with each other. How does that sound to you?”

I was taken aback for a second, and it took me even longer to realize exactly what was going on, “yeah I think I would very much like that. I honestly did not expect that from you, but cordial and comfortable sound like exactly what I was looking for.”

“Great. I’m glad you agree.” JoJo began disrobing immediately, first he ripped his shirt over his head and next he wiggled out of his shorts, stripping down to his boxers within seconds, and throwing himself back onto his bed. “You next.”

I felt myself blushing again, but this time it was from seeing JoJo’s skinny, fit body, his slight six pack, and toned biceps. I was trying to think of a response, but a part of me was thinking of an excuse while most of me was still processing what I just saw. The scene now lives on repeat in my mind as JoJo’s bulge jiggled and bounced as he pulled his pants down, and flopping when he threw himself on the bed.

“Well? Are you joining me?” beckoned JoJo while tossing his shorts at me.

“Uhh…I would but I still have to run to the store after unpacking, you know I’m missing toothpaste and deodorant, and other things.”

“Alright. Your loss. Just know I’ll be waiting for you to show how comfortable you’re willing to get around me.

I headed out to the nearest clothing store to look for some pajamas to sleep in. I could no longer sleep in my undies with a roommate in my dorm, let alone one I had a crush on. When I returned to my dorm JoJo was doing some calisthenics while still only wearing his baggy plaid boxers. While he was doing his pushups I was able to see his dick hang flop down and touch the carpet with each down rep. While he was planking I hoped his bellend would pop out of the fly on his boxers. And when he started doing jumping jacks I felt my dick begin to get hard, and with each jump and each flop it only got harder. He finished his workout after the jumping jacks and just laid back down on his bed. I started to get out of bed but I had to wait for my boner to go down before standing up.

When I finally made it to the shower I replayed the whole sequence in my mind. The mystery and constant teasing of his bulge was enough for me to get off in a quick time. My dick went from flaccid, to erect, to climax with just a few strokes. I was still excited from seeing his bulge flopping back and forth, and that was as close as I’ve ever been to having another man. As I was cumming I heard a knock on the door, “Hey, I hope you don’t mind but I borrowed your deodorant stick.”

“Yeah, that’s no problem at all,” I found it a little strange, but when you have a crush on someone they can do almost no wrong. Wait a minute, I keep my deodorant in my underwear drawer. Oh, no…

To Be Continued…

[typewriting101]

you’re safe here.

pairing: tony stark x reader

warning: anxiety, abuse, fluff <3

word count: 2.5k

genre: fanfic romance

⟶ summary: your past is filled with dark hidden trauma, and Tony is right there when it get to be too much

a/n: i just watched the first avengers and i swear something about tony in that– so i came up with this :) I’ve had some personal things going on, and related to this in some ways so i hope if you’re reading it helps you too. xx

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The soft, nighttime, breeze fell through the open doors leading to your little balcony. It moved your white curtains elegantly around your bedroom, as you tossed and turned in your silk covers. Any other night this would’ve been perfect.

Any other night.

Tonight your head was filled with thoughts, too many at that. You haven’t left your room all day, The Avengers had a mission. You were only Tony Stark’s assistant, so you never went on those. You helped him with Stark Industries, so much he had asked you to stay at the Tower with him and his team. You accepted and the others love you. You sort of were a family, you always wanted a happy family.

A happy family. Your heart started beating fast, and you tried to blink away the thought in your mind.

Your real family.

You sat up, sweating. The Avengers didn’t know about your past, and to be fair, you didn’t want to tell them. Everyone considered their family the one right here.

The Tower family.

The Avengers Family.

But what about your real one?

You threw your head back and smoothed away the hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. You could feel it, the familiar inability to sit still, the circle of thoughts deep in motion, rapid heart rate, sweating, nausea.

Crap.

It was definitely an anxiety attack.

Your eyes began to fill up with tears. Why couldn’t you just control your thoughts like any other decent person? Why did you have to live the rest of your life like this?

The rest of your—?

You got out of bed. “The more I think, the worse I’ll be. Calm down y/n.” You said to yourself. You walked across your room in Thor’s old shirt, which despite being too small for him, fit you like a nightgown.

You opened the door and felt the coolness of the tower hit you. It grew hot in your room right under your nose. You shivered as it hit your bare legs and feet, and you closed the door behind you.

You walked to the kitchen and poured yourself some water, when you heard the echo of a clanking sound, followed by a cuss word.

“Tony.” You thought in your head with a slight smile. You felt the nausea creep up again and you slammed your cup, accidentally. It didn’t break thank god, but you didn’t want to wake anybody up.

“Whatchya doing, Rapunzel?” A voice asked behind you.

You spun around to see Tony, leaning against the wall of the open-spaced kitchen with a smirk.

“Rapunzel?” you questioned, knowing Tony has nicknames for everyone in this tower.

“Sure, you’ve got the most hair out of everyone here. Well, second to me of course.” He added, shoulders shrugging sarcastically.

You looked down and smiled slightly at the ground.

His smirk however, slowly worked his way off his face. “Why are you up? It’s witch hour you know. Better watch out, scary thing.” His voice dripped in a joking sarcasm, making you smile softly to yourself again. He waltzed over to the counter, confused, picking up your glass of water, holding it in his crossed hands over his chest.

“I just came for that.” You sighed, pointing at the cup he held. You felt him looking at you, as he set it down again, but you didn’t look at his eyes. “Why are you up?”

“Blueprints for a new sustainable energy program. Plus, I thought I’d repair some slight damage on my suit.” he said it like it was nothing, snapping his fingers while clasping his palms. He watched you nod, still getting no real personality from you. “Wanna see?” he asked.

You nodded, you’d take anything to get this weight off your chest. Your heart dropped at the thought, and your walk wavered. What was worse is Tony saw you.

“Woah there, you alright?” he asked concerned. You nodded at the ground and you felt his hand on your back, guiding you to the elevator without a word.

You hated when Tony was silent. It meant he was thinking way more than usual, or he was upset. You moved your eyes to him, he was dead staring at the elevator doors as you went down, his hand still on you.

You looked at the floor again and bit your bottom lip, he was definitely thinking, and that makes you nervous.

The doors opened. He led you with his hand over to his papers on his glass tech-table and his suit on display to the side. He stared at you as you looked his research and blueprints over. He watched as your skin got paler, and you tried to hide in your large shirt from the silence.

“It’s nice.” you whispered. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but you were too lost in your thoughts to even know what you were reading.

“Binary.”

“What?”

He sighed, sitting in the chair you were standing next to. “Everything is written in binary code right now, sweetheart. Bare minimum blueprint for the system. You don’t know Binary, it's computer language.” you could feel that gaze again, he was analyzing you.

“Oh.” you said softly, lost in thought. “Sorry.” You looked over your shoulder at the elevator, then turned your body to walk towards it.

You didn’t even take your first step and Tony’s hands were around your waist, slowly spinning you to his direction. “Hey now, don’t leave.” he whispered.

You looked at him for the first time. “Y/n, what’s going on up there in that cute little head of yours.” his one hand on the side of your head, thumb gracing your temple.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, knowing that he is a literal genius and would see through it.

He hummed a disapproving sound. “No, don’t do that. You’re paler than the moon and look more lost than a puppy, sweetheart.” your eyes slowly began to fill with tears, and Tony’s eyes widened.

You felt him tug at your waist and pull you close to him as he swooped you into his lap on his chair. Your legs hung off the side of his left one and your arms wrapped around his neck.

You couldn’t hold it in as you cried harder than you ever have in your entire life, you have never let your guard down. If you couldn’t trust your family, could you trust the world?

To be honest, Tony was terrified. He had never seen you shed a single tear, and he was desperate to know what shook you so badly.

“Honey–” he whispered, one hand on your back. The other went to your head, your soft hair surrounding it.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, almost inaudibly. He felt you lift your head out of his neck, and you were zoning out again, looking at god knows what behind him.

He rested his cheek on your damp one, his hand on the other side of your face. He kissed you at the soft skin he saw and could smell your delicate scent when he did. “Don’t be sorry, you didn’t do anything.”

You took a breath and slowly lifted your head, embarrassed. He moved your hair behind your ear, “Don’t think you’re going to leave without talking to me.”

He looked at you with such patience, as if he’d wait years to hear what you had to say. You took a deep breath and began slowly.

“I never knew how much I could be loved by people around me… until I met The Avengers.” you began slowly. You felt a tear grace your cheek, but Tony was quick to wipe it away.

“You've asked me about my family before, and I always shut it down, or laughed it off… because-“ you had to close your eyes and take a deep breath. Tony’s hands found your arms, his fingers feathering up and down along your skin.

“Because I’m scared of them.” you whispered.

You were sitting on Tony’s lap, so when you saw Tony tense, you could actually feel it. Every muscle in his body tightened, even his grip on you.

“What do you mean they scare you?” he asked, the octave of his voice lowering, dangerously.

“Tony I don’t think–“

“Tell me.” his grip tightened harder. It wasn’t painful at all, he’d never hurt you. It felt protective, you were feeling safe.

“They- they are-” your heart began to beat fast. Tony knew and grabbed your hand, and set it on his arc reactor so you could feel his heart, his other hand moving up your back to your neck, massaging it.

“It’s okay, I’m right here, y/n.” He whispered. He saw your breathing slow and he watched you talk as if you were the most extraordinary thing in the world.

“They were great growing up. Just, one day– one day a switch flipped. I’ll never forget it. I became their target, Tony.” Your voice cracked at his name, but you pulled yourself together.

Tony’s heart dropped when you said his name like that. It was almost a beg, or a desperate call for help. He was aching in pain and outrage as you spoke, his hands finding your waist and tightening them again.

“They would manipulate me. One minute they loved me, the next I’m the center of their games. They’d tell me how proud they were of me, and as soon as I let the pain go, they would start all over again. It would eat me alive, and the memories still do. They’d always end things with ‘I love you’ but they never did. They... they never will.”

You could feel the anger radiating off of Tony. You looked up and saw his face was even a little flushed and his jaw was tense. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes were narrowed at the ground.

You both sat in silence. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your eyes widened from his voice, it sounded guilty. “I could’ve done something.”

“Tony, you–“

“Y/n, you've only lived at the tower for months, not years. You’ve been dealing with this while you’ve known me?” his eyes staring deeply into yours, hoping to God you said no.

You only nodded.

“Oh my God. Y/n, that’s abuse. I- they’ve hurt you. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I–“ he ran his fingers in his hair, frustrated.

“Tony, I didn’t want anyone to know. I’ve told people in the past, but people don’t understand. Some thought I was dramatic and others told me I was ruining my own happiness and I was lucky to have a family.”

“Families don’t do that.” he snarled, thinking of someone purposely shattering your heart.

“Which is why I told you, after all this time. I could have told you that my anxiety was bad, because it triggers it. But I told you the truth. I trust you, Tony.”

You took a breath as his features softened, making your stomach flutter.

“I just- i just wanna keep you safe, sweetheart. That’s all I want. The thought of someone coming at you–“ his grip tightened again. He leaned his head against your body, his head hitting your chest. You ran your fingers through his hair, as he locked his toned arms around you, squeezing you close to him.

You trust him. You could tell him.

“They tried to call me.” you whispered.

He sat up quickly, “What?”

“It’s why I couldn’t sleep. They are trying to get me to leave. They threatened me... with you.” you sighed, still playing with his hair.

“Come again?” he asked in fury, his hands subconsciously running up and down your back.

“They threatened to ruin your company. They’ve been trying to get me to leave. It started off with social media, liking all my things and trying to butter me up. Then messages saying hateful things about me, then they started calling and I never answered, their voicemails have been so brutal.”

You took a deep breath and expressed your fears, “Tony, I never gave them my number. I changed it when I left. I blocked them on social media, I don’t know how they are finding me. What if they end up here? What if they–“

Tony’s fingers traced over your cheekbones. “I’m not letting them anywhere near you. Technology’s my thing, sweetheart. I’ll get rid of them real quick.”

“But what if-”

He shushed you kindly. ”Nobody is going to hurt you ever again. You don’t have to think about it.”

He tugged at your waist again and pulled you into a tight hug. His hands ran through your hair as he felt your shaky breath. You were terrified, you wanted to love them. Every family practically loves each other, but you never got to be one of them. Tony’s stomachs turned, thinking how many nights you fell asleep alone and scared in your own home, how you felt heartbroken not being loved, how you even cried here and who knows how long that went on before he heard that loud bang in the kitchen you caused, and caught you.

He squeezed you tighter. “I promise y/n, you should be loved. You are loved. I’ll protect you from them, from anything. God, I promise you I’ll always be here. Will you let me love you?”

You felt his heart hammering against yours. You looked at him, his cheeks with a slight blush, nervous of your answer. A real but soft smile came across your elegant features, he smiled brightly as you played with his hair, and moved your hand to trace his nose, cheeks, and jawline. You let your hand rest there, and you leaned in to kiss him.

Tony Stark; Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist, was practically swept off his feet by the softness of your kiss. It wasn’t steamy, it was overly passionate. It was pure, and just right. The cushioned lips of yours against his. The softness of your hands still tracing his jaw. He wouldn’t trade anything for this moment.

You let go, to his great disliking. But a smile lit up his features when you spoke, “Yes. I’d love that very much, Tony.”

He saw a glimpse of fear as you looked towards the elevator. “Do… you want me to go?” You asked, timidly.

“No.” Tony said, with zero hesitation. He turned the chair with the two of you in it, flipping through his papers so he doesn’t blush again. “I told you I’m protecting you. You’re in no state to go anywhere without me.”

You look at him, eyes full of shock and realization. He looked at you, surprised at your cute expression. “What, you really thought I was going to make you leave?” he sassed. “Not that I’m mad, but why the cute face?”

You opened your mouth, and for a moment nothing came out. He set his hand on your back, “Y/n?” he said in a confused but cautious tone.

“So this is what it feels like to not be afraid anymore.” you said, a quiet tone of amazement and gratefulness lacing in your sentence.

Tony grabbed your head and kissed you quickly, a little harder than last time, and then instantly pulled you into him tightly.

“I’ll never let you forget that feeling. You’re safe here, y/n. I’ll always keep you safe.”

You relaxed into his warm body, your head on his strong shoulder. The glow of the arc reactor in his chest, just visible through the darkness of your now closed eyes. You heard him moving his papers and the sound of his typing on his tech-table, his one hand never leaving you. You opened your eyes and saw a holagram in front of you and recognized the image. He connected to your phone and was reading the messages from your family. You felt him grip you again, and he somehow found a location tied to the phone number that messaged you. You saw him type some strange numbers, and a satellite image of a house appeared. You knew that was your relatives house, and you knew he’d track them all down within seconds. It calmed you, knowing you were safe, so you close your eyes again. You heard the clicking of him gripping a pen in between his teeth, and the soft whirring of his suit beside you, as he scribbled something down. Then, you heard an approving ding from his table.

The soft sounds lulled you to sleep, and you felt one last kiss on your forehead before you fell into a real sleep, for the first time in a long time. You knew something real about your life for the first time:

You’re safe here.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

[landothemuppet]

Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this ! 

N/A:  First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp​ - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of ​​the last two weeks of August.

 This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

 There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

 "Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

 You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

 “My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

 You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

 And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

 So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

 "Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

 Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

 May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

 "What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

 Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

 "What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

 You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

 "You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

 And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

 The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

 But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

 Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

 From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

 "Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

 You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

 “I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

  A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

 "Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

 He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

 "Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

 You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

 "Do you want to bet, knothead?"

 He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

 But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

 "Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

 But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

 "Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

 After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

 Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

 Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

 But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

 And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

 And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

 The first one: He was Spider-Man.

 It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

 You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

 "What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

 You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

 "What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

 For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

 "But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

 Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

 "Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

  And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

 "Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

 You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

 "Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

 You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

 “Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

 Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

 Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

 "You..you should rest ..."

 You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

 Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

 But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

 When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

 To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

 Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

 Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

  It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

 You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

 "Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

 Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

 "But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

 You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

 "Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

 You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

 "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

 He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

 "Y/N?"

 You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

 "I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

 Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

 “There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

 You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

 "I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

 He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

 "Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

 You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

 This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

[dr3amofagame]

I have seen a few fanfics with this premise, so now I wanna see your hands drabble with it. AU where everything is the same except nobody knows that Dream is actually the youngest member of the SMP at 14-15 years old. Bonus points, revived Wilbur figures it out and makes some plans for how to use this knowledge to his advantage.

ooh yeah !! this au is one of my favorites - it’s a really interesting examination on the mindset of different characters in the server, plus just fun for just Angst Purposes. this is a little messy but i hope you like it! 

tw: abuse, torture mentions, broken bones, branding mentions, trauma, emotional distress, unhealthy relationship, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smoking, mental illness, panic attack, mentioned death, dark portrayals of ,, most of the server, prison arc/pandora’s vault 

“Hey. Thought I’d find you here.”

Wilbur turns at the familiar voice at his back, smiling.

“Dream,” he pulls him in to clap him on the back, ignoring the other’s full-body flinch at his movements. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Don’t pull that bullshit on me,” Dream’s words are biting, but he smiles as he says them - a small, bitter thing that stretches over his scarred skin. His new mask is pulled to the side of his face, exposing the dark bags beneath his grey-green eyes, the varied scars that fall over the bridge of his nose and under his jaw to trace down his neck below his collar. Wilbur watches him as he walks forward to stand by his side with a small spark of fascination, enhanced further when Dream’s eyes narrow at him. “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing- nothing,” Wilbur laughs. “They just really did quite a number on you, huh?”

Dream stiffens, then rolls his eyes. “Well, he did have seventy four days, or so I’ve been told,” he quips back, words dry. “Not that there was any keeping track in that hellhole.”

“Speak for yourself,” Wilbur smiles tightly, amusement coloring his words as the other scowls. “I kep track of my thirteen years quite well.”

“Whatever you say, old man,” Dream huffs. “You have a cigarette?”

“I almost feel bad, y’know. You’re kind of underage, man,” Wilbur feels his smile widen when Dream glares up at him, eyes glinting dangerously from behind his eyelashes. “I don’t know if I should.”

“I was younger when you gave me one the first time,” Dream retorts immediately, not bothering to hide his annoyance, sharp-edged and acidic. “And even younger when you drafted child soldiers to fight in a war for your own glory. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Ouch, really know how to hit a man where it hurts, don’t you?” Wilbur mimes pressing a hand to his heart like he’s been shot with one hand, the other fishing through his jacket pocket for his pack. Dream rolls his eyes again, but stretches a hand out for him to press a cigarette and a lighter in his palm.

“Learned from the best,” Dream drawls, going quiet as he focuses on holding the end in the flame and then pulling the lit cigarette to his lips. He chokes, as he always does, on the first drag, sputtering slightly as the smoke seizes in his chest like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, and Wilbur watches the little flickering light at the end of the stick in his hand as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Surprised I can stand the sight of these things,” Dream says suddenly, quietly, as Wilbur pulls out one of his own to light. He looks up, meeting Wilbur’s quizzical look with a faraway one of his own. “Quackity was a fan of making me his personal ashtray.”

He reaches up towards his collar, pulling it away slightly to reveal a collection of puckered circular burn scars that dot the skin of his shoulder to trace to the edge of his collarbone. Wilbur hums in vague sympathy and acknowledgement, breathing in a drag of his cigarette slow and smooth and feeling the smoke fill his lungs.

“Guess it didn’t make the cut of torture methods bad enough to become a trigger,” he laughs, sharp, the bitter punctuation of a joke he’d realized would fall flat halfway through speaking and fidgets awkwardly with the cigarette in his hand as he looks off into the distance. “I should make a tierlist. It could be...useful.”

The words are empty - Dream wouldn’t be able to stomach torturing anyone and they both know it; Wilbur cocks his head to the side curiously, deciding to press the point anyway.

“Useful?” He takes a deliberately heavy drag, blowing the smoke out slowly from his lips and watching as Dream flinches away from it. “How so?”

Dream keeps looking stubbornly away, the only indication he’s heard at all being the way his lips press tighter together. Wilbur laughs softly.

“You mean with Big Q, don’t you?” Dream’s hand, which never seemed to stop trembling since he’d left Pandora, starts shaking harder, the smoke rising from the cigarette clutched tightly between his fingers making a jagged pattern in the air. “I won’t judge man! He tortured you for- what, 72 days?”

“74,” Dream’s shoulders rise to his ears, his head pitching forward as his arms wrap around his torso in a futile attempt to hold himself, “74 fucking days, and no one gave a single shit.”

Wilbur hums, encouraging, trying to tamp down his curiosity from making itself too obvious in his voice. Dream had been closed off for as long as Wilbur had known him, his walls only rising more after they’d pulled him out, half-starved, half-dead from the depths of the prison, newly revealed face startling young even deprived of the baby fat that would’ve otherwise lingered in its corners. For the other man to actually say something, to give more clues into his head than his usual one-word answers and bitter sarcasm - Wilbur settles in place, raising his cigarette to his lips once again. This will be interesting.

“I just-” Dream’s voice cracks, and he goes quiet, looking down at the cigarette in his hands like it’ll give him the answers he’s looking for. “I don’t understand. They’re all perfectly fine with throwing me in there and leaving me to rot, with letting Quackity come in every single day to make my life hell, but all of a sudden because I’m fifteen that changes? Because I’m a “child”? Because that makes them feel guilty?”

His grip tightens on his arm, breath seizing in his throat. “It doesn’t change a damn thing and they all know it. All of them were perfectly fine with watching me die, with sticking me in that hell, with letting Quackity- fucking-” his free hand reaches for the long tangles of his hair, the sandy locks peeking out from between his fingers, “He did- everything he could fucking think of, carved words on my goddamn back, broke every fucking bone in my body just because he could, branded his fucking NAME on me I-” he squeezes his eyes shut. “I screamed for them every single day. All seventy-fucking-four and I was still calling their names and-” Wilbur reaches towards him, watches as his head snaps away once again. “It didn’t fucking matter.”

“Dream-”

“None of it mattered. All that matters is that I’m a fucking child, that I’m fifteen fucking years old. Not that they stood by while I died twice with no means of defending myself! Not that they threw me in a fucking torture chamber! All that matters is how old I am and I fucking hate them!” He shouts, voice breaking and dissolving into a choked sob, and Wilbur watches quietly as Dream swallowed back his cries, shoulders shaking silently. “I- I hate them. All of them. At least Quackity still treats me like normal- the rest of them just look at me with this- this stupid pity, I don’t need their pity, I don’t need anything from them, not anymore-”

“Dream. Look at me.” Dream’s head snaps over, fear flashing in the backs of his eyes before it disappears as fast as it came. Wilbur ignores it, shucking off his jacket and draping it carefully over the other’s shoulders. “They’re hypocrites, I know. That’s why we’re doing this, yeah? We’re blowing it all up to kingdom come. You know how it goes.”

Dream meets his eyes, a storm warring briefly over his face before he looks down. “It was never meant to be,” he says, sounding tired, sounding resigned, and Wilbur smiles darkly at the self-same bitterness that shadows the words, recognizing the ashy taste from when they had coated his own tongue.

“Atta boy,” he says, grip firm on the other’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow. You can keep the coat for tonight; it’s getting cold.”

“Thank you,” Dream murmurs, quiet, and they both know it’s about more than just the jacket. “See you tomorrow.”