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musicloverxoxo7 · 2 years

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Good game gone bad – featuring Jungkook

Pro Gamer!Jungkook x fem!reader

Summary: Jungkook is gaming with friends. Horny you might get him in big trouble.

Themes/warnings: AU, smut with a bit of plot, unprotected sex, cock warming, mention of oral (f receiving), fingering, nipple play, slight overstimulation, bit of fluff, established relationship, BTS know each other in this one

Wordcount: ca. 1.2

Disclaimer: 18+, DO NOT INTERACT IF YOU ARE UNDER 18

I do not own BTS. They merely inspire me. None of this is related to their persons in real life.

You knew you were in trouble when you sat in bed, reading, toying with your nipple. You knew you were in even more trouble when the image of Jungkook popped into your head. Jungkook disappearing between your legs, to be precise. His dark shock of hair perfect for pulling on.

You’re in even more trouble now, peeking into the living room in nothing but Jungkook’s t-shirt.

The only light on is that of the television. Perfect for what you have planned.

He’s sitting in front of the TV with his gaming controller and headset, 100 percent focused.

“Yeah, go for it. I’ll give you cover.”

His tongue is poking out between his lips. He leans forward a little, his eyes getting that mad glint they do when he’s winning.

Silently, you approach. You don’t want to bother him, but you need some attention now. You sit down on the sofa a little away from him.

“Team Kim Seokjin is winning, babe.”

“I thought Jin is on holiday at the moment.”

“He is. We always use that name. Even when he’s on the opposing team.”

You chuckle. They’re weird that way.

You lean back into the sofa and prop your legs up, spreading your thighs just a little. Jungkook’s focus has returned to the game. For now.

Smiling to yourself, you trail your hand down the front of your t-shirt and let it disappear under the hem. You sigh when your fingers connect with your clit and start tapping it.

Out of habit, Jungkook glances sideways. And freezes. Like a bunny caught in the headlights.

“Somebody’s shooting at Taehyung”, you point out, not taking your eyes off the screen. Jungkook’s eyes wander to where your hand is covered up by one of his huge t-shirts.

He licks his lips.

That almost makes you lose all composure and fully look at him. But only almost.

“Stop letting Taehyung die, baby. That’s not nice.“

“That’s not nice”, he asks, his eyes still wide and not focused on the screen.

Your mouth drops open in a near silent moan. Through Jungkook’s headphones, Taehyung laughing and yelling for help is audible. Reluctantly, Jungkook returns his eyes to the screen and does what needs to be done to save his friend.

Once that is done, he leans back and adjusts himself, playing one-handedly.

Of course, that draws your attention to his very visible erection. You scoot a little closer. Jungkook takes your free hand and places it on his cock, his eyes still on the game.

You run your palm over the bulge a few times, before dipping your hand inside his pants. He’s chewing on his lip ring, trying hard not to make a sound.

His boxers are in the way, so you stroke him through them. His hips move with your hand.

His focus turns from the game to you for a moment.

“Can I sit on you”, you whisper.

Jungkook’s mouth falls open. You take your hand out of his pants.

“Keep your eyes on the game, baby.”

Doing as you tell him, Jungkook tugs his pants and underwear down. He strokes his cock quickly, his eyes somewhat glazed over.

You climb onto his lap, making sure to not obstruct his view of the game. Not that he really cares about it anymore.

You take his cock and guide it to your entrance.

“No underwear”, Jungkook mouths. You shake your head with a smile. You love how much that one still surprises him every time, even after three years together.

Slowly, you sink down on him. The fulness is heavenly. Exactly what you’ve been craving the past half hour or so.

When you don’t move, a part of Jungkook’s brain seems to return to the game. You lean your head into his shoulder. You make sure to leave enough space in between your bodies to play with your nipple. Which you proceed to do.

It feels nice. The combination of playing with your nipple and occasionally rocking your hips when the pleasure becomes too much for staying still.

Your walls squeeze more and more around Jungkook as you near orgasm. You bury your face deeper in Jungkook’s shoulder. His friends definitely don’t need to hear you cumming.

Your breathing becomes quick and uneven.

You move your hips in tandem with the waves of your climax as it finally hits you. Jungkook’s thighs tense under you.

“Alright, guys. I’m done for tonight.” He listens for a moment. “No, I don’t care that we lost. Have a good night.”

He presses a few buttons on his controller, takes off the headphones and lays both aside. After, his hands settle on your hips.

"Babe."

With most of the light from the TV gone you can barely see his eyes as you lean back.

“Yeah?”

“Start moving, please. I might explode otherwise. Or implode.”

You snicker at the mental image but do as he asks. His hands grip your hips very tightly after only a few circles.

“Are you mad that I ruined the game?”

“As long as I’m just playing with friends…” Jungkook’s head drops back, his lips parted. “You can intercept as many games as you want then. Especially when you want me inside of you.”

You return your hand to your clit. It’s sensitive, but it still feels nice to draw gentle circles on it.

“Should have recorded that statement for the future.”

Jungkook’s head comes forward. You can feel that his gaze is intense, even though you can’t see his eyes well.

“If there’s a time when I don’t want it, I’ll tell you.”

“You’ve never told me “no” yet.”

“I know.” Jungkook’s hands wander to your ass and squeeze it roughly. “I’m turned on very easily. Now, let me take over, babe.”

You position your thighs a little wider and stop moving. This is your favorite part of this position. When Jungkook takes over.

He thrusts upwards roughly and quickly. You play with your nipples, moaning freely at how good it feels.

Your thighs start shaking, your hips needly push downwards with every upward thrust of Jungkook.

“Babe”, Jungkook whines.

“Jungkook”, you whisper back.

You grab the front of Jungkook’s t-shirt with your free hand. It stabilizes you. The next high is nearly there.

“Babe, I can’t- I-“

Jungkook cums, riding out his high with a few more aggressive thrusts. But he keeps thrusting even after, groaning.

Like that, the waves come crashing down over you within a few more seconds.

Your hips buck on Jungkook’s cock, your head dropping backwards.

Finally, you lower yourself and slump against Jungkook’s chest. He slings his arms around you.

“Thanks”, you mumble into his t-shirt.

“You’re welcome.”

“Well, your video game might have been bad. But this game… we aced that one I’d say.”

Jungkook laughs.

“Couldn’t agree more.” Jungkook hooks his arms under your butt and gets up, carrying you as if you weighed next to nothing. “Come, babe, let’s get both of us cleaned up.”

You sling your legs around his waist.

“You know what got me riled up like that?”

“No.” He cocks an eyebrow at you. There’s a smirk lingering around his mouth.

“I imagined your head between my legs. Running my hands through your hair.”

The smirk grows bigger.

“Let’s see if you’re still interested in that once we get back to the bedroom.”

Giggling, you hide your face against his neck. Both of you know that you definitely will be.

Please do not copy, translate, or repost my work. Doing so will make you legally liable for stealing intellectual property.

#jungkook smut #jjk imagines #jjk smut #bts au fanfic #bts smut #bts ff #bts fanfiction #jungkook x female reader #jungkook x you #female reader #established relationship #gamer jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook

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theroseandthebeast · 5 months

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Yuletide Recs, Batch Four

18 recs for North and South, The OC, Ocean's 8, Ocean's Eleven, Only Murders in the Building, Penny Dreadful, Peter Pan, Piranesi, Point Break, and Poker Face

Keeping True, Gen, John Thornton + Hannah Thornton + Fanny Thornton + Maria Hale + Nicholas Higgins + Mill Workers

Five views of Mr Thornton.

"if you weren't real i would make you up", Ryan Atwood & Summer Roberts + Seth Cohen/Summer Roberts

Tell the truth, but tell it like it’s a lie. Ryan Atwood grows up, and his relationships grow up with him.

Magpie, Ryan Atwood & Sandy Cohen + Ryan Atwood & Kirsten Cohen + Ryan Atwood/Marissa Cooper

Going fast enough, there was motion to it, and shape. The wires dipped in-between the poles, then curved back upward, then back down again - a never ending parabolic curve, like a child's drawing of ocean waves. He would imagine different creatures running on top of the wires - tigers, pandas, lions, cheetahs, or even a little miniature version of himself - running and leaping, keeping up with the car. He'd follow the horizon this way too - holding up one of his toy army men and lining up its legs with the line where the land met the sky. On the interstate, outside of the city, driving past farms and craggy hills and suburban enclaves, bunches of houses crowded up in little clusters like fungus erupting through the cracks in a tree's bark - everything looked like a toy. Like he could roll down the window and just scoop everything up, pull the whole world inside to look at it closer.

Encountering the Nova, Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean

Galaxies of women, there doing penance for impetuousness. Debbie and Lou meet cute.

somebody else's wallet, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

When you look at another man for too long, you risk giving several things away.

What Really Happened with Marco, Danny Ocean/Rusty Ryan

Rusty visits Danny's grave, and remembers. Meanwhile, everyone has a story to tell about Danny and Rusty.

in the meantime, wait and see, Oliver Putnam/Charles-Haden Savage

Mabel Mora loves her old guys dearly, but she is getting tired of them sabotaging each other’s love lives.

1/3 Of What You're Saying, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

She dreams of puzzle pieces again, that first night at Theo’s. (Mabel and Theo as roommates, figuring it out.)

An Ingenue Looks at Seventy, Loretta Durkin/Oliver Putnam

Maybe this time, Loretta will get everything she ever dreamed of. Or at least a bigger piece of it.

ignition, Theo Dimas/Mabel Mora

“So, do I need to be worried about you getting with a murderer too, or can I reserve that particular worry for Charles and Charles alone?” Or, everyone seems to know before they do.

Dark Days Coming, Ethan Chandler/Vanessa Ives + Ethan Chandler & Vanessa Ives + Vanessa Ives/Hecate Poole + Ethan Chandler/Hecate Poole

Hecate makes a plan.

Somebody to Watch Over Me, Wendy Darling/James Hook

The Hook she had made up would never smile at a girl as if she were the most interesting person in the world and then tell her that of course, he would patiently await her decision.

Growing Pains, Wendy Darling/James Hook

Wendy knew Hook wasn't propositioning her to join his crew out of the non-existent goodness of his heart. Enchanting his eyes might be, but the coldness in them seeped right into her bones.

The Sixth Statue, Gen, Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen + The House

Matthew Rose Sorensen explores the House.

The Reality of Shadows, Gen, Sixteen | Sarah Raphael

"And when he remembered his old habitation, and the wisdom of the den and his fellow-prisoners, do you not suppose that he would felicitate himself on the change, and pity them? Certainly, he would. … Yes, he said, I think that he would rather suffer anything than entertain these false notions and live in this miserable manner." - Plato, The Republic

The Waters below the Nineteenth Eastern Hall, The House + Piranesi | Matthew Rose Sorensen

Between the Eleventh and Fifteenth days of the Sixth Month in the Year the Albatross Came to the South-western Halls, there are days for which nothing was recorded. To fit into that space: a reflection on certain surprising Elements of the House.

lay my heart down, Bodhi/Johnny Utah

“Hey,” Bodhi says, soaked right down to the bone. “Room for an old friend?” Johnny takes a step back like he’s seen a ghost. “What the fuck?”

Ways to Disappear, Charlie Cale/Original Female Character

Charlie finds a place to stay awhile.

#yuletide #yuletide 2023 #north and south #the oc #ocean's 8 #ocean's eleven #only murders in the building #penny dreadful #peter pan #piranesi #point break #poker face

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sayakxmi · 3 months

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[Magi rewatch] Episode 14: Alibaba's Answer [Part 1]

Alrite, let's get the party started. I kept telling myself I'll watch it today for the past week, and, well, then I didn't, obviously. Certainly doesn't help that I was jumping around the series a little, just because I felt like rereading certain parts, whoops.

I need you to understand that this is what stares at me whenever I go back to that player in the tab, awaiting its moment.

Her

Weird magic shit

Done with the monkeys

Bro, I still think about the fact that most of the fight was an anime-exlusive thing, god damn

,,,that first one kinda looks like it's crying over the (most likely) dead guy, I'm kind of sad.

Sadly, no cool "social anxiety metaphor" with all these eyes, I thought it was neat, but oh well.

You don't understand, he's walking so slow, it looks kind of silly, but also he's leaning forward a little like he's about to punch the bitch (not yet)

Also, there was no cool Alibaba telling people to think carefully abt the whole slave nation thing. Tho maybe it'll happen a little later?

Like, I think 23rd's reaction was really cut short in general.

Also, there's no Alibaba placing himself between Sahbmad and 23rd, god damn it, the anime is just so adamant about skipping these moments. And I find them such an interesting trait of Alibaba - he constantly places himself between the people he cares about (or feels somewhat responsible for, like Aladdin in the 2nd chapter) and danger, literally putting himself in danger in the process. It's... sweet, but also a bit concerning, obviously. Because it's not just a few times, it's an actual habit of manga!Alibaba. He might not always be able to fight, but he still wants to protect others, to the point of risking his life. You get why I say it's a bit concerning?

There will be a scene later on, not in the anime, god fucking dammit, of course it won't, but in the manga, where after getting his shit wrecked by the attackers after leaving Zagan, and also shielding Morgiana at that time, he still drags himself to shield Sharrkan after he gets cut. Like, Alibaba can't even stand, and he still makes himself a human shield. Good thing Sharrkan was still mostly fine, cuz Alibaba was about to take that stab.

I will definitely get back to it when it happens, but, anyway, the anime annoys me for skipping all of that. It happens far too often for it not to be a pretty important character trait.

Anyway, I feel like as he walks, anime!Alibaba looks more... hm, openly angry I'd say? In the manga he keeps his cool, which I think is neat. Like, in the anime he argues, in the manga he states a fact kind of thing?

But then in the moments where he's supposed to look more emotional it feels a bit flat for some reason. Might be because of the artstyle, tho.

I wanted the machete-grab, but the screen ended up looking kind of silly, he looks like he's like 5 years younger than he actually is, which is somewhere past 17. He's still 17 when he leaves Sindria and there's that age thing with Pisti, but I think he's said to be almost 18 then. I'll correct myself I'm I'm wrong, but that would mean he's 17 now (he spent 6 months in Sindria. Which was timeskipped. Of course.)

Bitchslapped as he deserved to be. Also, love how unbothered the guy in the bg looks. Eh, just your regular coup d'etat, it do be like that sometimes.

Oh, but looking closer, he might be actually thinking "god, fucking finally somebody slapped that moron".

Asdfghjkl, how hard did Alibaba hit him for him to spin around like that

Again, anime!Alibaba feels a bit more expressive, while in the manga he seems to be completely calm. Maybe even a little sad that things had gotten to this point.

Sometimes I feel like I'm a bit overly-judgemental with these expressions and shit, but, honestly, I do think it matters. You get different impressions of the characters, even if you don't realize that. Manga!Alibaba is empathetic but fair, gets overwhelmed easily, but he can keep his cool once he gets a moment to breathe and figure things out in his mind, and then he puts all of his focus in the task at hand. Anime!Alibaba feels more openly emotional, which isn't that bad, but they don't really draw him with the same form of poise Manga!Alibaba is capable of, he's more hasty, too, while in the manga he's more willing to try things like deception rather than fight right away. And while he's still empathetic, he comes off at a bit weird at times, like empathizing with Jamil in the Dungeon, while in the manga he was like, sucks to be you, anyway. All in all, I'd say that Anime!Alibaba simply comes off as more shounen-like than Manga!Alibaba.

And, as I've said numerous times, it's not just him. Sinbad is even more of a hypocrite, and frankly, the anime kind of loses the fact that he's insanely charismatic and good at social stuff in general - he also comes off as more hasty than the manga one. Manga!Sinbad knows how to play the long game, Anime!Sinbad just wants to get shit done immediately. And also tries to get people to fight, while in the manga he more lifts their spirits up, and does support their (well, mostly Alibaba's) attempts at talking it out.

I won't lie, Anime!Morgiana comes off as a bit of a meathead at times, all too willing to just kick stuff right away, while Manga!Morgiana only restores to violence when she isn't given other options. Though the anime does give her more screentime, I'll give them that.

And Aladdin, for the most part, lacks the agency he has in the manga. He's even more of an innocent child, which makes him terrifying, when he does get himself involved with stuff. He doesn't really have a moral compass, it's just, if I like you, I'll help you, and if I don't, I won't. It makes him seem so insensitive, which very much isn't like Manga!Aladdin who, while somewhat confused at times, means well, and is quick to at least try to help, when there's trouble.

Anyway, I'll keep comparing that stuff. Back to the ep.

My beautiful daughter.

Weird magic shit, but also

Ja'far: Oh come on, what is it now?! Woman: Wow, so pretty :D Masrur: (read at 6:15)

Masrur just couldn't care less, beautiful.

Ok, fine, he looks surprised a moment later

These shiny eyelashes, lmao

And he's there

That's creepy as fuck. Awesome.

"That's the guy I'm supposed to marry?"

King?

No king.

I love her face here, lmao.

God, I just love them

No more Kingdom

w hat

Why is Notre Empire playing

REPUBLIC!

Srsly, why Notre Empire

Bro's late, but to his credit, it's for a good reason.

Technically he doesn't look happy and all, but all Alibaba'd said was "Sorry I left, but this is my answer", so it kinda doesn't work all that well :/

#magi #saya's magi rewatch #alibaba saluja #aladdin #morgiana #sinbad

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electricbluebutterflies · 6 months

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This prompt for Damerey? 'breaking down mid-hug because they just needed this so much'

Post-canon, pre-relationship, PG-ish, and also on ao3.

Feeling safe with other people is… new.

Rey knows she’s being a little overdramatic about all of this, but adjusting to a more tactile world has been harder than she ever could’ve expected. It’s perfectly alright that she has boundaries, and there seems to be a collective understanding there, but-

Turns out she has needs. Turns out she’s not suited to be alone forever.

Like every other new desire, she’s unsure how to handle this one. She supposes she could get what she needs in the casual touches of her new friends, but she covers so much of her skin – old desert habits, she says when anyone asks and after a few attempts they stop asking – and it’s almost enough but not quite and-

She’s thinking about this new touch-loneliness, in a quiet space on yet another planet she’s been on for two days and whomever said this whole victory tour thing would last multiple years apparently wasn’t kidding, when she hears a familiar beeping. Everyone else currently in her life has other people to comfort them; she, apparently, has the bright-orange droid equivalent of herself and-

“Rey? You okay?”

Ah yes, and with the droid comes the human. Rey is getting more used to this, but the part of her brain that wonders if this may be what she ends up with as a family dynamic is electric and terrifying sometimes and-

“Needed some quiet,” she shrugs, hoping she can limit this encounter before it gets complicated like conversations with that man always do if they go past formalities. “Why do you always ask?”

“I’ve seen you crawl into walls when you get overwhelmed. Forgive me for being a little concerned for-“

“That was once.”

“Once was more than enough, nobody found you for half a day-“

“Is that what you want? List everything I’ve done in panic like that’ll get me out there and make me social and-“

She will give credit where it is due, and one of the main reasons Poe has slipped past her defenses is she knows he doesn’t mean to damage anyone. Happens too much anyways, but intent apparently counts for something with her and-

“That’s not what I meant. Just worried about you is all.”

“Needed quiet,” she repeats. “Too many people staring at me. You?”

“Something like that. Figured misplacing you half an hour ago was a good enough reason to-“

“Misplacing?!” she laughs. “How is that-“

“You know most of them have no idea how normal this is and somebody had to go looking for you and-“

“And you were going to use it as an excuse to-“

“Someone here didn’t like that idea so here we are.”

The droid beeps in agreement, and Rey isn’t sure whether she’s weaker for flashing lights or deep eyes and-

“I’m not alright.”

The words slip out just a little too quick and quiet, and she wants to cry, and she wants a lot of things she’s not sure how to get, and-

There’s a caution in how her friend moves closer to her, every step a request for permission until he’s close enough to touch, close enough to-

“Tell me to stop and I’ll back away in a heartbeat. You know-“

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” She’s known this for… as long as she’s known him, really. Her instincts have never failed her, and there was something glowing and good then and even more so now and-

Still something hesitant as arms wrap around her, a pleasant contrast against the solidness of him. They don’t… do this, never anything so intimate, but new does not mean wrong and-

Something in her breaks, something deep and hidden, and she doesn’t show emotion easily around other people but it’s safe with her face hidden against his shoulder and an awareness that he can keep her upright without too much effort and-

She feels his breath catch like he’s about to say something but can’t pick a regrettable option, and-

“You did not do anything wrong,” she breathes, something almost less than a whisper. “Overwhelmed. Not you.”

Just the slightest little lie for politeness. She needs this, in some deep damaged part of her little heart, and she isn’t sure how to need, and-

“Crying with somebody’s hands on you isn’t exactly normal, you know that?”

“It’s not… that. Promise.”

“Rey-“

“I’m not used to having somebody’s hands on me! And I’m not sure…”

She feels his body recoil and she grabs the back of his shirt so he can’t. Let this make her clear, let this be-

“You don’t make anything easy to understand.”

“I don’t know what I want. But you’re warm and solid and good and-“

More crying. Great. It’s like all those years of repression in the name of survival need to come out and be made up for now, and-

One of his hands moves to the back of her head, and this is more than they’ve done before, and she likes his fingers in her hair, and she likes-

“Not going anywhere,” he murmurs. “Got you.”

“Think the droid will warn us if anyone gets close?”

“This isn’t exactly scandal bait…”

“I look like-“

“You look fine. Or at least you would if I could see your face right now. Nothing wrong, okay?”

She isn’t sure she believes him, but… she’s seen him attempt to talk his way out of objectively weirder situations and at least no one is elbow-deep in mechanicals right now and-

“I’m hiding behind you if we get disturbed,” she murmurs. “I know I’m not smaller by much, but-“

“Don’t worry. Bee may be a little out of practice as a guard, but we’ve done this before.”

The droid makes a set of beeps Rey has learned mean something to the effect of are we SURE this is a good idea, and… maybe it isn’t, but she’s the good kind of not-alone right now, and-

“If you say so.”

#ebf writes fic #damerey #queue

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sunnyie-eve · 1 year

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8 | Making Enemies

Series: Valentine Addams | Wednesday

Paring: (Xavier Thorpe x OFC Addams! Tyler Galpin x OFC Addams!)

Word Count: 1657

Warnings: playful friendship

7. Returned the Favor | 9. Boys...

For Wednesday's session with Dr. Kinbott I go into town with her and Weems. "Dr. Kinbott's office is in the second floor. Other Nevermore students and your sister swear by her." Weems tells her as we pull up.

"You'll be here until I'm done?" Wednesday asks.

"Perhaps afterwards we can visit the Weathervane for hot chocolate." Weems suggests to her.

"Principle Weems, this feeble attempt at binding is beneath you. And chauffeuring your students around is below your pay grade." Wednesday gets out of the car.

"Given your history, I'm sure you're intent on running away. I'm here to prevent that from happening." Weems lets her know.

"I wish you luck." Wednesday shuts the door.

"Can I go to the Weathervane?" I ask Weems.

"Yes, you may." She says so I get out.

When I enter the café I see Tyler working on the espresso machine so I walk up to him. "Since it's the espresso machine that means I still can have my hot chocolate right?" I say with a smile then watch him stare at me, "Can I talk to you?" I get serious.

"The machine is broke. I have to fix it." He waves the manual.

"Tyler, please." I give him a sad look. He walks over to the side so it can be slightly private. "I'm going to keep being just yours and Xavier's friend until l know things and my own feelings." I explain leaning against the wall as he leans on the wall across from me with his arms crossed. "I'm not good at understanding myself when it comes to feelings. Others it's easier because it's like reading a book but I'm unreadable. I'm not used to them. Especially these kinds so I would appreciate it if we can keep being friends." I mess with my fingers again nervously.

He sighs uncrossing his arms, "I don't wanna lose you as a friend, you're the first person to understand me. So I want you to know I'm completely okay with with us just being friends till you understand your feelings. But I do want you to know if you end up not feeling the same way, I still don't want to lose you as a friend. My shitty life got a little better when you showed up." He steps closer to me.

"I don't wanna lose you as a friend either because you seem to be the only person who has gotten me to open up to without a court order." I chuckle some getting off the wall, "And you're also the only one who really wants to get to know all of me." I give him a smile.

"I gotta get back to work, now." He gives me a smile.

"Go try to tame that beast." I play shove him back to the front.

"I can't read Italian though." He looks back at me.

"I can."

"Do you want to help a friend out?" He motions for me to follow him.

"Free drinks for two weeks." I eye him.

"I already give you free drinks." He laughs going to mess with the machine while I make myself a hot chocolate. "Excuse me, you don't work here." He looks back at me for a second.

"Well, you're busy and the only other person working is busy as well." I give him a smile.

"Holy crap! Do you make a habit of scaring the hell out of people?" I hear Tyler so I turn around to see Wednesday.

"It's more of a hobby." She tells him.

"New to Nevermore, I see." He eyes her.

"I need a quad over ice. It's an emergency. It's four shots is espresso." She tells him.

"Somebody snuck out the bathroom window." I walk over to stand by Tyler.

"Of course." She looks over at me so Tyler looks between us.

"Yeah, I...I know what a quad is, but spoiler alert, the espresso machine's having a seizure, so all we have I drip." He tells her.

"But drip is for people who hate themselves and know their lives have no real purpose or meaning." She says so we watch the man put it down and walk away. "What's wrong with your machine?" She asks Tyler.

"It's a temperamental beats with a mind I'd it's own, and it doesn't help that the instructions are in Italian...And you won't help me." Tyler tells her then turns to face me annoyed.

"You never agreed to my request so that's your fault." I tell him as Wednesday comes around to fix it.

"I need a Tri-wing screwdriver and a four millimeter Allen wrench." She reads the manual shocking him. "Here's the deal. I'm going to fix your coffee machine, then you are going to make my coffee and call a taxi." She tells him.

"Uh, no taxis in Jericho. Try Uber?" He suggests to her.

"I don't have a phone. I refuse to be a salve to technology." She tells him as he works in the machine.

"Then you're out of luck. Where are you going anyways?" He watches her.

"That's on a need to know basis. What about trains?" She asks. "Nearest station is Burlington. It's half an hour away." He tells her.

"You have a valve issue. I've seen it before." She tells him as I get myself a snack.

"Where? You have one of these monsters at home?"

"Steam powered guillotine. Built it when she was ten. We wanted to decapitate our dolls more efficiently." I speak up covering my mouth as I ate.

"Wait, this is your sister. I should've known that... it's quite obvious now that I look at you both." Tyler turns to look at me.

"She's the older twin." Wednesday says as she fixes it.

"Wow. Thanks. I'm Tyler, by the way. I didn't catch your name, or is that on a need to know basis too?" Tyler asks her so she eyes him.

"Wednesday."

"I tell you what, Wednesday. To show my appreciation, and help a friends family out, how about I drive you to Burlington?" He suggests to her.

"Perfect. Put that quad in a to go cup." She tells him so he says he can't until another hour. She ends up trying to bribe him with $40 dollars but he says he can't be bought so she just had to wait. She huffs walking to a booth while he makes her drink and I go around to wait to give it to her.

"You two are similar yet very different." He chuckles.

"Yep, especially with me being here. She knew I've changed. She hates it. Called me weak for falling into the trap. I promised to keep an eye on her but I know my sister so I'm not going to stop her from leaving." I lean on the counter.

I take her drink and my stuff over to the booth she was sitting in. "You really have changed. You have friends and not just one." She eyes me as I sit down.

"Yeah, six to be exact then four acquaintances." I eye her as well.

"What are you going to tell Principal Weems for when I leave?" She changes the topic.

"Well of she doesn't see me with you; say I don't know anything. If she sees me; I tried to stopped you but failed. If you don't get away today and get caught; say you told me the session ended early to day." I tell her so she nods her head.

After some time Tyler's ex friends show up talking about how we're in their booth. "Why as you three dressed like religious fanatics?" Wednesday asks them.

"We're pilgrims." The taller one says.

"Potato, po-tah-to but they work at Pilgrim World." I show her the flyer.

"It takes a special kind of stupid to devote an entire theme park to zealots responsible for mass genocide." She tells them.

"My dad owns Pilgrim World. Who you calling stupid?" Lucas gets pissed.

"If the buckled shoe fits." She tells him.

"Guys, back off." Tyler comes over to us.

"Stay out of this, Galpin." Lucas tells him.

"Yes, stay out of this." Wednesday stand up to stand in front of Lucas.

"So tell me, freak... you ever been with a normie?" He asks her.

"I've never found one that could handle me. Boo!" She scares him making the other two jump in. While Wednesday handles the bigger one I jump in to handle the taller one.

We look at the three laying on the floor in pain, "You still got it." She smiles at me.

"So where'd you learn those kung fu moves?" Tyler asks us.

"Our uncle taught us. He spent five years in Tibetan Monastery." I look at Tyler, who stood next to me.

"Was he a monk?" He asks confused.

"Prisoner." Wednesday adds.

"Dad." Tyler sees him come in so we all turn to look at him.

"Tyler, what the hell's going on in here?" He asks him.

"They were harassing customers, and they put them in their place." Tyler explains so his dad eyes Wednesday and I,

"These little things took down tree boys? Did you help them?" He asks making us eye him.

"Dad, I swear, I wasn't involved." Tyler tells him.

"We told him to stay out of it." I add with a smile.

"Apologizes, sheriff. This one slipped away from me but I see her sister found her. Come on, Miss Addams, both of you, time to go." Weems comes in so we go over to her.

"Wait a minute, hang on." The sheriff stops us, "You're both a Addams? Don't tell me Gomez Addams is your father?" He asks so we nod our head, "That man belongs behind bars for murder. Guessing the apples don't fall far from the tree. I'm gonna keep my eye on you both." He points his finger at us and stares me down.

"Okay." Weems grabs Wednesday as she smiles and I follow out waving bye to Tyler.

#wednsday addams #wednesday #xavier thrope fanfic #xavier thrope #tyler galpin #tyler galpin fanfic #xavier thrope imagine #tyler galpin imagine #enid sinclair #bianca barclay #ajax petropolus #yoko tanaka #eugene ottinger #divina wednesday #kent wednesday

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 20 days

Text

Revelations Part Two - a Malevolent fic

Tears welled in Odd’s eyes, dripped down his cheeks as he played. And just as he had hoped, as he had gambled, he felt the King in Yellow’s presence. Closer than usual. In fact, allowing Odd to feel him directly. In fact—

“Why do you weep?” said that deep voice, which buzzed through the ground even when quiet.

Odd let his violin peak, crescendoing to a high, tremulous note—and then he cut it off, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s been a week, huh?"

Part of the Surrogate series. Written with @sepiabandensis

AO3

----------------

Carcosa was quiet.

It was a nervous kind of quiet. Nobody fully understood what the hell had happened, and the rumors did not clarify. Some said an attack. Some said an invasion. Some said somebody overcharged Faroe in the market and now everyone was boned.

Larson was pissed. He’d missed it! Some kind of craziness, the Saint nearly killed, and he’d missed it! The fuck!

The Librarian didn’t know, either, and kept flipping to different images which only confused him more. Larson only knew he was now confined to two places: his room, and the archives. There wasn’t even family dinner happening at the moment.

Whatever went down, it had been big.

He would find out. Somehow.

Eventually.

Odd was just glad that, relatively speaking, everyone seemed to be okay?

No one had seen Parker or Sunny yet, but when he’d swung by their room with a plate of food, he could hear them talking within. There was warmth, comfort, joy—he’d had to sit down for a while, behind a nearby plant, and just let the feeling of relief wash over him.

Faroe was not doing well. Odd suspected she had a case of broken heart, and that was something no one could really fix.

Not that he didn’t try. He found her and Nibbles out in the lower garden and settled beside them with his violin, playing a rambling song, focusing on being steady and grounding. Before long she’d scooted over to lean against him, a tricky proposition when playing the violin, but Odd had managed.

She gave him a hug when he finished. He’d need to keep an eye on her. She wasn’t okay.

Arthur… Arthur was the tricky one. Arthur had slipped into a kind of full-body, all-encompassing grief that Odd didn’t know what to do with. He’d healed Arthur’s bruised jaw, and Arthur had not even fought or complained which was…

Perhaps that was why this was so jarring.

I am the King in Yellow.

Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay.

Odd should not be here for this.

But the claim made sense in a weird way. It did. John was too… similar. One could make jokes about being cut from the same cloth, but Odd could find the echoes of the King in John’s voice, his mannerisms, everything else. Though just how this could have happened…

No one told Odd to leave.

Arthur was still, so still. “No,” he said patiently, too patiently. “You’re John.”

I am, said John. But I am also the King in Yellow.

Arthur was too still. “Okay.”

That’s all you have to say? Okay? And John (King?) was too amused about this earth-shaking conversation.

“I’m not in the habit of feeding your bullshit,” said Arthur, who’d somehow gone even more still.

It all felt like something fragile on the edge of a knife—balanced, but for how long?

Arthur, John soothed, voice going to melted chocolate—and this time he must have triggered something, because Arthur’s face went pale, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Don’t,” Arthur warned. “Whatever it is you think you’re doing, you’re not the King. You’re John.”

I remember Lilly, Arthur. She matters. She’s why I chose my name.

And the stillness shattered like ice in a pond. “Then why the fuck are you bringing it up, huh? It doesn’t matter!”

Silence, as if waiting for that pond’s ripples to still. If you lost your memory of life as a father and husband, would you be the same?

Arthur’s gasp was painful.

Odd should not be here. He swallowed, wanting to look between the two but only able to focus on Arthur, who hunched as if in pain.

“How could you say that?” the man whispered.

Because it’s true. I’m John. I’m your John. I haven’t lost anything—even if I am fucking embarrassed about how the last months have been, John added in a mutter.

Arthur laughed weakly and wiped his eyes. “You have been… a handful.”

A grunt.

“Fucking possessive. ”

Silence.

John’s hand was lightly tracing runes on the bed—nothing wild, ones Odd had seen used often for crowd control and other tense times. All they did was take the edge off wild emotions.

But Arthur didn’t know he was doing it.

Arthur, said John. We need to talk to Hastur. We can’t both… be here like this.

“We’ve managed for most of Faroe’s life,” Arthur quipped.

Odd got up, moving silently to gesture at John’s hand and shake his head.

John’s eyes snapped up, following him; sharp, confused.

Trust him, he mouthed.

John’s eyelids flickered. Then he stopped.

Whew.

We can’t both be King. And if Sunny ever comes into himself, it will be three of us. It will be a disaster.

Arthur sighed and un-kidney-beaned. “I don’t think it’s going to be nearly as big a deal as you think.”

Oh, won’t it?

That question, that challenge, asked that way, made pain flit across Arthur’s face for some reason. “Yeah. You’re stuck in me, remember? There’s no threat to the power structure here,” he said a little bitterly.

I crushed the assassin.

Odd’s eyebrows shot upward.

Arthur’s eyes went wide, a strange contrast to John’s gaze through them (which was focused on Arthur’s hand). “What?” said Arthur, flexing his fingers. “But… how?”

Arthur believed him. That meant something.

I extended my essence from you. It’s why you passed out.

“Extended… John, what are you talking about?”

We need to talk to Hastur.

“John. Extended? Passed… I…”

You don’t remember much until Parker.

Arthur rubbed his jaw and winced. “No, but… you can’t do that.”

I did. And I made him suffer.

Arthur’s expression changed. This wasn’t his own hurt; this was concern. “John…”

He nearly killed you. He’s lucky I let him die.

Okay, now Arthur was edging toward afraid. “Maybe we should talk to Hastur.”

Odd knew he would regret saying anything. “I think that’s a good idea. Tensions were high, things… happened, a lot of things that people don’t really understand yet. He may have some insight.”

Arthur hunched. “Yeah. Confirmation, right?”

You’re wise, Odd. I see why he likes you, said John with loftiness bordering on condescending.

“Oh, quit it,” said Arthur, popping that kingly bubble at once. “I’m sorry. He’s going through a phase, apparently.”

A phase!

“Don’t we all?” Odd said, mildly, but at least it seemed Arthur wasn’t quite afraid anymore. “What a time to get your memories back, though.”

Arthur hesitated. “I really passed out?”

You… stopped.

“Stopped?”

John fell silent.

Arthur pursed his lips, thinking, then nodded. “So I scared you, is what you’re saying.”

I did not say that.

Arthur placed his right hand gently on his left. “I got scared after the poison. You stopped, then. I was fucking terrified, John. I thought I might have lost you.”

John took that in silence.

“Poison?” said Odd quietly.

“Someone tried to kill John.” Arthur pressed that left hand to his chest, over his heart. “Fucking almost managed. We haven’t figured out who yet, either.”

So this was court intrigue, in the home of a Great Old One. Huh. Who knew it would feel absolutely shitty?

(But damn, would it make for good songs later.)

“Let’s go find him,” said Arthur, rising, swaying, sitting again. “Fuck.”

“Maybe a medic?” suggested Odd.

“No, we… we’ll just… some healing magic, maybe?” said Arthur.

John hesitated. I don’t feel comfortable casting magic through you right now. Not until we… are sure you weren’t harmed.

“Medic, then,” Arthur conceded.

“I’ll help you get there,” said Odd, and did, and left him there in the hands of conjured nurses, who fussed over Arthur as if he were their favorite chicken come home to roost.

Odd wandered off to find Hastur.

Hastur was rarely around this time of night—usually a few more hours before he’d show up absolutely torn to hell and back—but who knew? The last couple of days had been a little unusual.

Carcosa didn’t really travel in the normal sense, as far as Odd could tell; when it was in-between places like this, one couldn’t just jump out a window and find themselves somewhere in the Dreamlands. It was mist out there, aggressively nothing; it wasn’t overly pleasant, and staying away from the far walls was a good plan in general.

But Carcosa wasn’t in-between now. It seemed they’d landed.

Out there, a stunning night silvered somewhere new. Hill country, evidently, which meant the Lake created open space where there had been none before. Twinkling lights far, far away indicated a city of some sort, though there was no way to be sure just what it was.

The stars gave some indication: they were far east, way further than Odd had ever followed the Path. The wilderness of Mhor was not kind to foot traffic. What were they doing out here?

He had a suspicion. Namely that this was far, far from anyone who might show up at the gates, begging for an audience, while Hastur tried to mitigate this calamity.

Odd didn’t bother sitting; he stood, proud and tall, tucked his violin under his chin, and he began to play.

The song that wept from his violin made his previous ones look like the first forays into music by a child. It arced and danced, it screamed the way Parker had when Sunny did not respond, it sobbed with Faroe’s grief; it reflected Arthur’s music, borrowed and transformed, threaded through with Arthur’s pain as his family fell apart, and his best friend’s suffered, and he feared for John.

“Why do you weep?” said that deep voice, which buzzed through the ground even when quiet.

Odd let his violin peak, crescendoing to a high, tremulous note—and then he cut it off, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s been a week, huh?”

What had to be a half-step for Hastur closer, but was more than the length of Odd’s body. “Yes. It has. Why do you weep?”

“Lots of things to weep about right now,” Odd said, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. “My friends are hurting. Faroe is devastated—I can just tell she blames herself, because she’s ten and she doesn’t know any better. Arthur blames himself, because the assassin or whatever-the-fuck was sent after him. Parker thought Sunny was gone—though the last time I swung by to check on them, I heard them both talking. But that’s going to be a hurt that lingers.” He took a shuddering breath. “Where’d you take us?”

For a long moment, the only sound was breathing. “I don’t know why I hesitate,” Hastur mumbled as if to himself, then finally answered. “Far east, at the edge of the Hungry Sea.” He moved closer again—barely an inch this time, hardly noticeable.

Oh. That was very, very far. Odd nodded. “Pretty far from any potential enemies, then.”

“Yes.”

“Does that mean you’re going to take a few nights off from zipping away and fighting people?”

Hastur went dead still. It was funny, after seeing Arthur do the same thing; one had to wonder if they came to that response independently.

A beat. Only breathing.

“How do you know that?” Hastur said, low, and it wasn’t threatening, exactly, but it wasn’t super friendly, either. Wary. Tense.

Odd was very, very far from anyone that would find him, assuming there was a body left to find. “I’ve seen you come back some nights, torn to shit,” Odd said, voice even. “There have been rumors going around for a bit about you being on the warpath, but I didn’t believe it until I saw it myself. It can’t be directly related to Faroe, or Arthur; you wouldn’t be subtle about it if it was. You’re not just… conquering. Any number of people would have said that the places you went to had changed hands. And you’re very, very careful to be hidden while you do it. So.”

“So smart,” Hastur said as if to himself, barely audible, and he moved yet closer. Almost in reach now. “A keen observation. You are correct… and it seems you’re wise enough to keep this to yourself, as well, since no one has approached me.”

“What good would it do to blab?” Odd shrugged, helpless, but made no move to step away. “Arthur would be furious if he knew, I’m sure, but he’s got enough on his plate. Dis is brilliant, but this is almost certainly not under her purview. That would leave me tattling to Dagon, and while he’s a trusted member of your court, I don’t know him—either he’s already in the know, or he’s not, and those are decisions best left to you.” He took a breath. “Except for this one. This… What the fuck is going on?”

A beat. Only breathing.

“You leave me at odds with myself,” said Hastur, and the curling of the finer tips of his tentacles said he was serious and making a joke at once. “Do you have any idea how things would have gone for you in years past here?” Those tentacles rose, still not touching, but now—at some distance—on either side if Odd, not caging him in, no, but communicating that they could. “I suspect you do. One with your talent and intelligence—and evidently, ability to see through at least some of my wards—would know what it means, ordinarily, to approach a court such as mine.”

“I told you in our first conversation: I never, ever would have left this place,” Odd said, and his voice only trembled a little bit. His eyes darted, taking in the tentacles creeping around him, but he stood firm. “In years past, I don’t know that I would have even survived my introduction to your court. I haven’t forgotten what it is you can do, Your Majesty. I know what a dangerous game I’m playing. But down there is a little girl—” He swallowed through the lump in his throat. “There is a very sad little girl that I want to make sure has her dad, because from the way you speak, it seems like you aren’t sold on this ‘restful sleep’ at the end of a few years business. It seems like you think you have no choice.”

Something changed.

Odd had no way to know just what, but something he’d said had hit home. The golden eyes behind that mask were wide, gleaming.

There were few times in life when the weight of someone else’s decision thickened the air like oncoming storm. This was one.

Odd took a deep breath. “I want to help you,” he said softly. “I could have fucked off. I could have written the Songweavers, I could have done a million other much smarter things than corner a Great Old One, throw secrets in his face, and demand answers. I have been thrown in the middle of this situation without a lifeline, without a gods-damned clue what the fuck is going on, but I have a feeling that no matter how we slice it, Faroe is going to get hurt. I want to protect her from that as best I can.” The rest came out in a shaky, horrible sigh. “Please.”

The god shuddered. That was a thing to see. “You wish to help her?” As if he needed it absolutely verified.

“The only thing I know for certain about this whole situation is that you love her,” Odd said softly. “And fuck, I barely know her, but I think I might love her too. She’s easy to love.”

“I do love her. Odd. Walk with me.” He slowly moved past Odd onto the balcony, which silently unfolded before them into neat, Odd-sized steps.

He followed, tucking his violin beneath one arm, aware of the sting of the cold air against the tear tracks on his cheeks. Beneath them the badlands of Mhor stretched, dizzying, silver.

If he was wrong… There were worse places to die.

Hastur had done something. No sounds from the city reached them now. Starlight made him void, a golden cloak and white mask floating in writhing darkness. “She needs all the support I can find for her,” Hastur said slowly. “A thing I am… inclined to reward well.” A volley, to see what Odd would say.

“I don’t give a shit about reward. I want her to be safe.” He eyed Hastur, a brief frown on his lips.

And that seemed to have cinched this decision. “Odd,” said Hastur in a calm, unremarkable tone, “in five years, I am going to die.”

Odd stopped walking.

For a long, long moment, he eyed the god beside him; his expression was neutral, though his eyes were sharp, calculating. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said, at last. “Gods like yourself… You don’t age, you don’t get sick. How do you know?”

Hastur seemed to be watching the stars. His mask was turned up, reflecting starlight. “Because the same Outer God which dropped you here as a joke has promised to kill me at that time.” He let a moment pass as if to let Odd parse that.

That information hit like Odd had been punched in the gut by a tentacle.

“My entire goal until that time is to ensure she is safe.” Hastur hardly needed to say who she was. “Along with… this strange family I seem to have gathered. She is a child, Odd. She will still be a child when I die. I must give to her a Dreamlands that will not seek to end her life, but will vie for her favor. I must.” He finally turned to Odd. “How do the humans say it? I’m… not my own man at the moment.” His chuckle was dark, and bitter.

“You really are dying,” Odd said, almost a whisper. “That’s why you’re leaving at night, and not telling anyone. You’re dealing with other powers you don’t have direct alliances with yet.”

“Yes. They will ally, or they will die. I will not leave her a trail of enemies—or opportunists.” Hastur bent lower, mask near. “And I do not tell my strange little family. Nor will you. They would grieve; they would fight against it, uselessly hurling themselves against that which cannot be stopped. I rather they are prepared, as best I can make them, so they may stand safe and strong when I am gone.”

Odd took a shuddery breath. “That’s why you keep mentioning that you don’t have time. And the way you spoke, on Faroe’s birthday.” He ran a hand over his face, up into his hair where it passed over the nubs of his shed antlers; he took a brief grip of his main antlers, the prong still sensitive after the shed. “When are you going to tell them?”

“At the end. I will give them time to yell, demand, blame, weep.” He sounded sad, but amused, like he expected nothing but the wildest drama. “But not enough time to damage themselves, or attempt anything that could garner his attention.” One tentacle neared Odd, then pulled back. “I tell you this in confidence. I tell you this because she will need support. Help. Friends.”

“That’s going to be a disaster. They’re…” He let out a shuddering breath. “There’s no good way to handle any of this. You’re going to die. Fuck.”

“There is no mitigation,” he said quietly. “And I dare not try too hard, lest he turn his attention to them instead.” His voice tightened. “Every moment I have with them is… become something beyond price or value. Perhaps this is why I have spared you—and yes, that is the right word. You know how it would have gone. But I never before appreciated… helplessness. And the terror of oncoming doom.”

Odd couldn't handle this. He turned away, looking instead toward the expanse of Mhor below. “So… what can we do, then?” He said at last, the tears welling up again.

Hastur’s sigh was deep. “I don’t know. I’m doing what I can, without inviting opportunistic attacks. Beyond that, I don’t know.” A smile touched his voice. “Does that frighten you? To hear one of my stature saying such things, admitting such things.”

“It makes me feel a lot of things,” Odd said thickly. “You… I spent most of my life scared of you, and others like you, but mostly just you. And you’re going to die.” He took another shuddering breath. “Fuck me sideways, that Outer God has a sick sense of humor. Another finger curls on the monkey’s paw, and—” He let out a bark of a laugh. “And I am focusing on myself, because I’m upset, and I’m not even important here. We have to figure out a way to keep Faroe safe in five years.”

“I have a way,” said Hastur, who, whatever else he was, definitely still was arrogant. “I am inviting you to join it.” Yet he’d already showed himself adjustable. Perhaps the arrogance was… not as concrete as it might have been.

“Sure. Talk to me. I’m already in this far, may as well say I do, right?”

Was that relief? Odd had been watching this strange body language for a while now. That was relief.

“My plan has several steps,” Hastur said, turning fully toward Odd now, as though the act of telling him was more interesting and more exciting than all the stars and all the arid beauty of these wastes. “She will be too young when I go; fifteen, with all of Carcosa on her shoulders? No. There must be a buffer, and that is where John and Arthur come in.”

“John’s not your offspring,” Odd said. “He has your memories. What is he?”

“A rare thing called a Forgotten One. He is a piece of me, unwillingly torn away.” A pause. “So is Sunny.”

Holy shit.

“Okay,” Odd said, soft. “That… makes sense. I know about Forgotten Ones. It tracks for Sunny.” His brow furrowed. “But John… You’ve claimed John as your offspring, not as a fragment. And he seems far too independent to be a true Forgotten One.”

“He is. He’s been with Arthur Lester for over a decade. He’s grown. Quite frankly, he’s doing things Forgotten Ones are not supposed to be able to do, but then, Arthur himself is something of an odd specimen, too.” Hastur must not have told anyone this. He was lower now, mask almost on Odd’s eye-level, tentacle-tips twisting. “I have announced him as offspring so he has a claim to step up—with Arthur—and fill the gap until Faroe is old enough to take her place. Parker and Sunny… were not in my original plan, but my hope is their brand of wisdom and their camaraderie will give the kind of aid John’s prickliness tends to evaporate.” He couldn’t seem to help himself. “Even the transformation of Carcosa is part of this. Soon, I will change it back to welcoming for all, and it will be clearly at her request, earning her favor among merchants and travelers that will not be quickly forgotten.”

“You really have changed,” Odd said, very quietly. “All of this, for them. For her. John must have split off… what, more than twenty years ago now? And since you adopted her… you changed.” Absurdly a small, helpless laugh bubbled from him, even as he sniffled and wiped at the tears that dripped down his cheeks. “It would be just my luck, I suppose.”

“I…” It figured a being wired like this might not realize he’d changed, or how much. “I… for her, I would change.” Hastur considered. “For her, I suppose I have. Arthur experienced both sides. I’m afraid I wasn’t very kind to him in the beginning.” And that felt like an understatement. “What would be your luck? You weep again.” And again, one tentacle came near as if to catch those tears, then pulled away.

“Vulgtmog was watching the situation with Arthur closely, you know? We know how he was treated. I was… gods, I was just coming into my adulthood then, going out on my own for real. And even through all that, he forgave you—and that man is keen. He wouldn't have forgiven you if he didn’t believe it.”

The god… colored. It pulsed in waves, undulating; and even in the starlight, it seemed to be kind of purple. “I was not subtle in what I did to him,” he said quietly. “Perhaps only one like Arthur could forgive John and… myself.”

“Maybe. He’s something, alright; I’d be half-convinced he was mad if not for the fact he’d probably be enjoying himself much more.” Odd let out a choked sob, scrubbing at his eyes with his hand. “Poor bastard. He’s never going to forgive you, after. He’s going to think he could have done something. And you’re going through all this effort, just to never—” He stopped, choked silent by tears.

“He may,” said Hastur quietly. “But he will be alive to do so—and our daughter will be safe.”

Odd’s chest shuddered with the effort to keep calm; he tilted his head back, toward the stars. “Fuck me. I spent over twenty years running from the sight of gods, and then as a joke I am dropped in the lap of one that maybe, after all this time, would be worth worshiping; and you’re dying.” His voice broke—into a laugh, into a sob. “What a cruel fucking joke.”

Hastur pulled back. Not up; he seemed determined to stay at eye-level now, so the impression was almost like a train backing away. “You…” He stopped. “You… what did you say?”

“Just feeling rather sorry for myself, Your Majesty.” Odd said; abruptly he sat on the edge of the magical walkway, tail curling around himself, violin in his lap as he buried his face in his hands. “The irony is getting to me, is all. Find a god who’s worth it, and whoops, he’s marked for death. Don’t even get to enjoy thinking about—about worship or any of that before it’s just��” He made a gesture, like skipping a stone across a lake. “Gone! Don’t know why I thought it would be different. Been like that since I was born, you know, at least some things stay consistent.”

“You would…” The ancient, terrifying Lord of Interstellar Spaces seemed to have forgotten how to speak. “You…”

“Explains why you didn’t do anything. You didn’t want to leave me feeling shitty when it all happened; I get it.” Odd let out a sob. “Carcosa was always meant to be my last stop, because I just… I knew that once I got here, I wouldn’t leave. I wouldn’t want to. And as it turns out, maybe you would’ve been worth it all along, and I could have been—” His voice cracked and at last Odd decided that words would no longer do. Instead, he set his head on his arms and cried.

Another flash of purple over that dark hide, almost like some sea creature. Hastur reached. Hesitated. Considered. And then said a thing he might never have said in his long and selfish life: “May I touch you?”

Words were definitely hard right now. Odd nodded, head in his hands.

It was the gentlest touch. Stroking his hair first, then raising his chin. Hastur had produced a handkerchief. It was as gaudily gold as anything he’d ever made, and delicately, he dabbed at Odd’s face.

It wasn’t funny, really. “Are you still willing to help my daughter?” said Hastur.

“Of course I am,” Odd said, snotty and teary and feeling like absolute shit. “I’d decided already. Just… The irony isn’t lost on me, is all.”

The touch—warm through silk—lingered. Slowly tending. “You could still come to me. If you wished.”

His brow furrowed. “I thought… but you said no.”

“I said no to simply taking you. Melting your mind to make you worship me. I will not do that to you, Odd. Ever.”

Odd sniffled. “Reassuring. That meant a lot. I appreciate it,” he said, trembling. “But I don’t know what this means. I don’t know what it is you’re asking of me. If it was before, I could make a pretty compelling guess, but now…” His voice cracked. “You’re dying.”

“Nothing can stop that now,” Hastur said softly. “But I could still give you such good things until all is said and done.”

“Good things, huh?” Odd cracked a fragile smile. “It’s not going to make it so you can stay, or ensure I help out. You don’t… have to. I’ve committed, for Faroe if no one else.” He shuddered. “Gods, this hurts. But if it will make you happy, why not? What do either of us have to lose?”

Hastur tilted Odd’s face toward him. “Will you let me make you happy?”

Which was an incredibly vague question, all things considered.

And all things considered, Odd was all-in. “Who am I to say no to you, my King?” he said, smiling.

“I don’t care what time it is,” Arthur snapped again. “We’re seeing him now. This is a whole new development.”

We should wait until breakfast! John said again. This is ridiculous! It’s three in the morning!

“I don’t care,” said Arthur again, and pushed open the enormous throne room doors.

Music slid over him like warm oil, and he inhaled.

Hastur sat on his throne. It wasn’t time for Court; he wasn’t performing for anyone, but draped there like a cloak, tentacles largely limp, except for the tips which moved in time to—

Odd, who sat on a stone ledge right by the throne, making music.

The bard smiled as he looked up, his fingers working on his lute in a rolling melody that flexed and sighed. “My King,” he said, nudging one tentacle with his foot; he did not stop playing.

Hastur seemed to stir as if from deep meditation. “My own,” he said, and held out one enormous hand. “Come to me.”

Arthur stood there.

He’s holding out his hand.

“Is he okay?” whispered Arthur. “He sounds weird.”

Fucking… how should I know? Yes!

Hastur chuckled, low. “Come.”

“Okay,” said Arthur, slowly approaching. “Why?”

“Because I wish to have you near me,” said the King.

Arthur exhaled slowly. “We need to talk to you about something.”

“Of course, my own.” And Hastur paused. Looked over at Odd.

It was a distinctly… considering look.

Hastur, said John, his gold fuming, his voice rising. I am the Ki–

Hastur grabbed them, and Arthur yipped.

“Hey,” Odd said, and promptly whacked one of Hastur’s tentacles with his tail. “You know he doesn’t like being grabbed. Be nice.”

“Ah, true,” said Hastur. “I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur stared in his direction. “Did you hit your head, or something?”

Hastur chuckled again.

I… hey! I wasn’t…

Hastur put them down.

I am the King in Yellow! John blurted out with significantly less drama than he’d planned.

“Yes, you are,” Hastur agreed, which deflated whatever was left.

“Would it be best if I leave?” Odd stretched out a bit, toes flexing in his boots.

“Not at all,” said Hastur.

“John remembers,” said Arthur. “Everything.”

Hastur stilled. “Everything?”

From before. Everything. All. Of. It.

Hastur picked them up again, but this time to bring them close and study.

Arthur didn’t wriggle this time. “Is he okay? He said something happened.”

I murdered the assassin, growled John, and I did it too quickly.

“John,” said Hastur slowly. “Exactly what did you do?”

A good question, really. I…I reached.

Hastur waved his enormous hand just beside Arthur, almost like brushing away cobwebs.

Arthur shuddered, inhaled.

[“He’s all right,” said Hastur slowly, “but you are very lucky. He didn’t tear. John… you grew.”]

John huffed. [I have been. It’s nothing new.]

[“This is.”]

“Excuse me,” Arthur said tartly.

“It’s personal, between the two of them,” Odd said, hushed. “About John. I’m sure he’ll fill you in after.”

You’d have known if I’d hurt him! You’d have felt it! John blared, and fear made his voice slightly higher.

“Yes,” said Hastur. “I don’t understand what I’m seeing, though. Don’t do that again until we know, John. You’ve stretched him.”

A pause.

“He what?” said Arthur.

What the fuck does that mean? said John.

“When I know, I’ll tell you,” said Hastur, and put them down with a sigh. “It’s always something with you two,” he added, and his tone was fond.

Arthur smoothed his robe down. “So. That was less upsetting than I feared.”

But… but I… I am the King in Yellow! John said.

“You always were,” said Hastur.

John didn’t seem to like that. When you put it that way, it doesn’t seem so momentous.

“Oh, it is momentous,” said Hastur. “So is this: Odd, for your first city-wide performance, do you want help? Or would you like to charm my people in their entirety all on your own?”

Arthur blinked. “Performance?”

“Odd is particularly talented,” rumbled Hastur, “and our city needs… help after the events of the last few days. If he performs, spirits will lift. This is guaranteed.”

“So it’s not on me,” said Arthur with clear relief, then caught himself. “I’m sorry, I… I don’t mean to be rude.”

“Hastur and I have been talking. You’re shouldering a lot already, Arthur; it’s about time you had someone who could help, at least in this regard.” Odd smiled, warm, leaning back against the tentacle that rested behind him. “I think it depends on how grand a spectacle we want it to be. I can certainly perform myself, though we’d likely need some magical enhancements for my voice and instrument; not to say I wouldn’t enjoy a backdrop of accompaniment, but I’m more than capable of handling it alone.” He paused, tail flicking. “I’ll take care of it.”

“You shall have the greatest stage,” said Hastur like melted chocolate. “The best equipment. All will love you when they see you.”

Arthur, he’s leaning into him.

“Of course, that’s a given,” Odd laughed, low. “Hey. Will you give Arthur the day off? He and Parker might enjoy walking around the city, enjoying the rest of the festival. With protection, obviously, though I think John might be able to handle it.”

Arthur blinked.

Hastur hesitated. He looked at Odd. So gently, he touched Odd’s cheek. “That is wise advice.” It wasn’t agreement, but it also wasn’t a shut down.

“I… I haven’t done… anything like that since John,” said Arthur very quietly, and that swung the jury.

“Then it shall be so,” said Hastur. “And then…” He stopped.

“What?” said Arthur. “Then what?”

Hastur looked at Odd again. “We’ll see if there are to be more celebrations after. Go rest, both of you. It has been a trying week.”

Arthur, he’s—

“Thank you,” said Arthur softly. “Can we take Faroe into the city?”

“Not as she is,” said Hastur. “Disguise would be necessary. Let’s temporarily table that.”

“Temporarily,” said Arthur firmly. “She needs to see things outside of this place.”

“Of course, my own,” said Hastur. “Off you go.”

Thought he’d be more upset, John grumbled as they left.

“Don’t you think we’re really damn lucky he wasn’t?” said Arthur, and the doors closed.

Hastur looked at Odd again. “The evening has left me drunk.”

It didn't sound licentious. It sounded… pensive.

Odd strummed his lute, picking a song back up. “Good drunk? Emotional relief drunk?”

“Drunk enough to consider something perhaps… extreme. But then, you like extreme things, don’t you, Odd?” said Hastur.

“With consent and discussion, yes,” Odd said, tail flicking. “And with someone who is sober.”

Hastur couldn’t smile, per se. He managed anyway, a full-body thing. “Good. When I am sober, let us discuss your marking.”

#malevolent fic #malevolent au #surrogate series #surrogate fic #arthur lester #john doe #kiy malevolent

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fictionsmooches · 3 years

Text

PORCO X READER X PIECK

Plot: after a small fight with Porco, Pieck helps (y/n) get Porco jealous, while also having fun with her.

Contains: sweating, degradation, Praia, name calling ‘slut’ whore’ ect.ect., oral sex, unprotected sex, thigh riding, lesbian sex, 18+ MDNI

Word count; 3k-ish

Classes had already been out for the day, and with a long weekend around the corner, you were more than ready to get this ‘Porco issue” sorted out. Your whole life felt like it was spent between Pieck and Porco. You three had formed a bond unlike any other. You shared secrets, hopes, and protected each other on and off the battlefield.

“Look (y/n), a small fire lit under his ass wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, he’s been awfully rude to me lately. I wouldn’t mind making him a little jealous myself.” Pieck said.

All week he had been acting funny towards you. A little too funny for your comfort. It all started when you and Pieck decided to hang out without Porco. He had been taking extra lesions from Zeke as of lately, so he wouldn’t come home until late. The dorms were too quiet to be alone. Your thoughts had rang too loud to be left alone with quiet ticks of clocks to keep you company.

Pieck had no roommate since Annie left for Paradis, so you decided to have a sleepover. The two of you spent the night swapping stories of the week and laughing over nothing. It was a well needed pleasant night. However, In the morning when you arrived home you could see the hurt all over Porco’s face. He was sitting up on his bed. He faced the door. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, you knew for a fact he didn’t sleep at all last night.

“Where were you? You know you worried me to death!” he yelled standing up. His loud tone took over the whole room. It was as if nothing else existed apart from you two in this room.

“Oh I'm sorry Pock.. I don’t mean to worry you. I just got lonely waiting here for you to come back so I had a sleepover with Pieck.” you spoke softly as if to sooth him. You really didn't mean to make him worry, that was the last thing you wanted.

“Well the least you could have done was left a note.” he said brushing passed you as he walked through the still open door. His voice was cold and numb. You hated seeing this side of Porco, the cold side of him.

You could deal with his anger outbursts, you could manage the yelling or the cursing when he was upset. You could at least talk him down from that, but you can't help him when he was like this. How could you help somebody who didn't feel nothing? This was the first time he ever acted like this towards you, and it felt horrible.

Sure he yelled at Reiner and even got too snappy with Pieck every now and again- but not you. He made a habit of bragging to everyone that you’d be his wife one day and how beautiful you were whenever you weren’t around. You knew Porco was smitten for you but he never acted on it.

You waited all year for Porco to make the first move but feared he never would. Maybe it was because he wanted to live up to Marcel’s legacy. Maybe he didn’t want to ruin the friendship between you and Pieck. But it looked as though he’d never act on those feelings now.

“Pieck.. what if he never talks to me again?” you spoke as you slipped down onto Pieck’s lap. Her skirt was damp with the tears you’d been crying all day.

“I highly doubt that. You just have to show him that if he doesn’t act fast, he’ll lose you.”

You nodded and sat up. You wiped your last tear away and raised your fist.

“Ok. What’s the plan?”

Pieck slipped her arm around your waist and pulled you closer. Your thighs now touched one another as she closed in the gap between you two. She cupped her free hand over your ear, she whispered softly.

“You want me to do what?! Pieck, we aren’t little girls anymore! We can’t just ‘practice’ like we did when we were little!” you jumped slightly. She pulled you back into her grasp.

“And why not! Am I not your type?” Pieck teased.

“It’s not that” you looked away. “It’s just.. I don’t know.. Embarrassing?”

Pieck couldn’t help but giggle at your shyness. It is true that you two used to practice kissing each other when you were children. You needed to be sure that when the time came, and you married your future spouse, you’d be ready. But you were not children anymore. You couldn’t just kiss her and act like it meant nothing. After all, you had some morals left.

Sure Porco and Pieck fought about who would be the one to marry you- but you never thought anything of it. Why would you? Wasn't it natural to hold hands with your best friends? Your mind ticked and ticked until finally you could form a coherent thought. Was Pieck in love with you? And was Porco as well? How long had they been? Either way, the idea of kissing Pieck didn’t seem so far-fetched anymore.

You could hear Porcos boots clomping in the distance, he had always been so brash with his walking. You often felt bad for the poor wood floors he had walked on.

Just as the door knob turned, Pieck cupped your face and pressed her lips against yours. As soon you were connected, you could feel yourself pooling under your skirt. Pieck had begun rubbing on your thigh, and that definitely didn't help the dampness from collecting. The warmth of her mouth took over your whole body. You couldn’t help but melt into the kiss, your mouth opened slightly as Pieck shoved her tongue into yours.

You knew Porco could walk in at any moment, and the excitement of him catching you made you want to kiss Pieck even more. It felt so dirty to be like this. To have Pieck’s hand up your skirt, and to have Porco possibly see. you wouldn't dream of pulling away. It felt too good to stop now.

The moment the door actually opened, Porco just stood there- eyes wide as he watched Pieck absolutely degrade the mouth he wanted for himself. He had dreamed about parting those lips countless times. He tried to imagine if your mouth felt as good as it did in his wet dreams. His now half hard cock twitched as he watched Pieck pull away from you, a string of saliva still connecting you two.

“Good evening Pock.” she spoke with a smile as if nothing just happened.

He avoided his gaze from the two of you. “Yeah.. whatever” he said, nearly throwing his books on his desk. He took a seat as he covered his face- hoping it would make his blush less noticeable.

Pieck kissed your forehead. “I’ll see you later my sweet (y/n), i’ll be late to class.” she said walking out of your dorm with a wink. You sat breathless at what had just happened. Pieck had unlocked something so sinister in you, and you feared that simple kissing wouldn't be enough for you anymore.

As time went on you wouldnt understand how Pieck could just go along with you like nothing happened. You walked to class together as usual, ate lunch like you usually would- but in the back of your mind the only thing you could think about was Pieck. You craved her touch on your body. You longed for her hands and for her mouth, but you wanted Porco’s gaze upon you just as much.

“Uhh Earth to (y/n)?” Pieck said waving her hand in front of you. You had spaced out at the table you had been studying at. Porco sat at your left and Pieck across from you.

“I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought!” You rubbed the back of your head In embarrassment.

The stuffy room you sat in, had once been dedicated to strategizing wars and battles but the campus had now converted them into study halls for students. You weren’t sure if the weather made the room feel humid or if you had imagined it to distract yourself from forming tension between you three.

Large windows covered the walls of the room, the sunlight coming in gave you a clear view of everything in the room. The tables were old and worn, chairs wobbled ever so slightly, and the books on the shelf were slowly collecting dust as years went by.

“Is it hot in here?” You ask aloud, fanning yourself with your hand.

“I’m sure it is, and these uniforms don’t help out any.” Pieck smiled was she pulled her book away from her face.

Porco slid his hand on your thigh from under the table, he snickered as he turned the page of his book with his other hand.

You gulped quietly.

“Yeah I’m getting tired of all these layers, I wish I could peel off a few, don’t you Pieck?” Porco said as his hand gilded under your skirt, calloused hands rubbed small circles on your inner thighs. You were being too obvious, you had always been too obvious.

Pieck caught on quickly to the soft movements Porco made under the table and your breath heaving. Her eyes made their way to your warm cheeks with a smirk.

“I understand completely, Porco.” Pieck looked directly in your eyes “It’s almost like I could undress entirely right now.” she began fiddling with the top buttons of her shirt.

You could feel it happening again. The wetness starting to build between your legs was unbearable.

You were practically gasping for air as Porco’s hand slowly started making its way closer and closer to your clothed cunt. Your clit ached with the thought of his touch. All sense of shame was gone at this point. Pieck’s shirt was half way opened at this point. The bits of her lace bra were exposed more and more with every bottom she slowly undid.

You couldn’t tell if your arousal came more from Piecks undressing or from Porcos touch, but at this point it didn't matter, you only knew you needed more. You wished to be laid against Pieck’s chest as Porco bent you over the wooden table, just imagining it made you bucked your hips in desperation for more friction. Porco slowly placed the pad of his middle and ring finger against your clit.

He withdrew his hand entirely as you let out a soft moan.

“It’s almost time for dinner, we gotta get going if we want to beat the crowd.” Porco said, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Right! Best if we leave now.” Pieck said with a devilish smile as she began buttoning up her shirt.

The two left you there panting for air, and longing for hands all over your body. The light of golden hour stained the room with warm hues. Your mind raced with what had just happened, and why you were left hot and bothered. Your legs spread open on the chair you had been sitting it, a small puddle laid under you.

The next day You woke to an empty dorm. Porco had been long gone at training. You knew you would have most of the day to yourself but today your mind raced with thought of Pieck and Porco. At times you shifted your weight to distract yourself from the overwhelming thoughts you craved.

It wasn’t long before a knock at the door sent a shiver up your spine that jolted you to sit up.

“(Y/N)?” Pieck called as she let herself in. “I assume Porcos is training?”

You nodded.

“Ooh so you’re all alone?” Pieck’s tone sounded sultry like she was alluding to something. You felt the heat rising in your face.

She made her way over to your bed. Her foot steps echoed in the room with every step she took. She took a seat on your bed. And leaned over to your ear.

“Have you been thinking of me?”

You avoided looking at her. “Maybe” you answered

“Or have you been thinking of Porco?” She asks nibbling at your ear lobe. Your breath couldn’t help but deepen.

“Maybe” you answer again

Pieck pulled away and repositioned herself. She was now sitting with her back fully against the wall, her legs laid out over the length of the bed.

“Come here (y/n). I want you to show me the way you want to grind on Porcos lap” she lifted her skirt to expose her thighs. She looked so soft from where you sat.

You don’t think twice about straddling her thigh. Your clothed cunt made contact with her soft skin sending a shiver down your spine. Piecks hand found their place on your ass with a squeeze.

“Such a desperate little whore you’ve become. You get one kiss from me and a half assed teasing from Porco, and you’re so eager to do as I say?” She squeezed your ass again only this time more rougher.

You could only moan in response.

Pieck had begun dragging you back and forth on her thigh, pleasure rippled through your body.

“Unbutton your shirt for me”

You hesitated. “What if Porco comes back early?” You whined

“Don’t act like you don’t want him to see you like this. Now unbutton your shirt”

She lifted her leg to make more friction between you and her thigh.

You did as you were told and undid every button to the best of your ability given the circumstances.

“No bra? You really are a whore (y/n)!”

You moaned at her words, your pussy was leaking all over her thigh as you rode her.

Pieck placed your nipple in her mouth and began to suck.

“Fuck-!” You say throwing your head back

She slapped your ass making you moan louder.

Her mouth felt amazing wrapped around the sensitive bud, sending shockwaves through your entire body.

She looked up at you through her eyelashes. She looked as though she was smiling as she sucked on your nipple, she knew what she was doing.

The knot in your stomach had started to tighten.

“Pieck! You’re going to make me cum!”

She pulled away. Without saying anything, she pulled your panties to the side, giving your cunt direct contact with her.

“Cum for me then” she said looking in your eyes.

Your hips moved at a rapid pace as you released on her thigh with a scream.

You were so busy with Pieck that you didn’t even notice Porcos boots clomping down the hallway. By the time you noticed he was already opening the door.

He stepped into the most unexpected but beautiful sight. You say still straddling Piecks thigh, gasping with your tits out. Your cum and sweat covered your body and Piecked thigh, your skirt hiked up over your ass and piecks hands holding on the back of your thighs.

Pieck peered her head to the side “hi Pock!”

You couldn’t help but feel so embarrassed and exposed.

Porcos cock twitched with excitement.

“So this is what you do while I’m off working my ass off?” He says while slicking his hair back more.

You were speechless. When you decided to speak all you could manage to say was “I’m sorry- I couldn’t help myself! I just-“

“Just what? Decided to act like a slut and think I wouldn’t find out?” Porco says.

Your clit jumped with excitement.

Pieck shifted her weight so you lay elbows to the bed with your ass in the air. Pieck guided her hands to your panties and slid them off of you. She spread your ass cheeks and pussy lips for Porcos full view.

“Look Porco, she’s just begging to be filled” Pieck smiled up at you.

You could hear Porco’s zipper being undone behind you.

“She sure is. But I want to hear that from her” he grinned, stroking his cock. The tip was wet with precum already. He stroked as your hole fluttered with excitement.

“Please Porco! Please, I need it!” You said.

“Tell me princess, what do you need?”

Pieck reached her hand underneath to rub your clit.

You gasp nearly being able to talk, “I need you to fuck me Porco! Please fuck me!” You choke out.

“Good girl” he said as he slowly pushed the tip of his hard cock inside. “Mmm.. so fucking wet already” he shoved the enteier length inside you.

You moaned against piecks mouth as she kissed you. Her tongue once again shoving its way into your mouth.

While Porco took his time fucking your tight hole, you slid lower to make contact with Pieck’s lower half. She giggled at the sight of you being so eager to please her. “Here, ill help you.” She said lowering her panties.

You wasted no time lapping up every once of Piecks oozing pussy. She collapsed into the this matress as you attacked her clit.

Piecks moaning caught the attention of Porco. “L-Like what you see Pock? Her mouth feels amazing on my pussy.” Pieck said, smirking.

“I always knew (y/n) would be the perfect little slut.” Porco said speeding up his thrust into your sloppy tight cunt. You moaned against Piecks clit, squeezing down on Porco’s cock in response to his degrading words.

Slowly you added two fingers into Piecks slit. “Better do a good job (y/n), or I wont let you cum” Porco said slowing his pace. You wasted no time proving at her g-spot. Pieck moaned in delight.

“Good girl.” Pieck said in between moans.

You couldn’t go on much long like this. You needed release and you needed it bad. Porco could tell you where close by the way you began clamping down on his cock.

Pieck was the first to cum as she held a fist full of your hair “(y/n)! You’re gunna make me cum” she exclaimed. She lay breathless on the bed for a moment as Porco kept thrusting into you.

Pieck seized the opportunity to reach under and rub your clit. Pieck’s soft fingertips where enough to send you over the edge. “Porco! I’m coming!” You screamed.

“I’m close (y/n).. where do you want me to finish?” He choked

“Don’t be shy now (y/n) Answer him” Pieck said.

“Inside!” You yelled feeling over stimulated.

“Fuck!” Porco said as he raised inside of you, your pussy drank up every drop of his cum.

You three laid squished against one another, sweat and cum covering your bodies

#porco x reader #aot smut #Pieck x reader #porco x reader smut #Pieck x reader smut #x reader #jean x reader #erwin smith x reader #reiner x reader #attack on titan #smut #x reader smut #attack on titan smut

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leascorner · 3 years

Text

j.b.b. | Marley

Summary: Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours. Her name was Marley.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x single mom!reader

Warnings: Mention of past and present relationships, parenting, mention of food

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: This is my first story posted on here. I’ve been writting for +12 years now but for the last couple of years, I couldn't finish a single story. Turns out Bucky Barnes was all I needed to get over my massive writer’s block. Feedback is greatly appreciated. (Also, english is not my native language so if you spot any grammar mistake, please let me know!)

Masterlist

It all began with his friend, Sam.

On a night they were out for drinks, he had made it his mission to find someone for Bucky. Someone or anyone for the matter. He talked to everyone in the bar that night, while Bucky drank his beer, sitting at the counter. When it was clear enough that nobody there that night would keep grumpy Bucky company, Sam turned his attention on the dating app his friend had downloaded on his phone some weeks ago. He probably went through a dozen of profiles, sometimes showing the phone screen to Bucky, to what he would just respond by rolling his eyes and drinking some more beer.

That was until Sam showed him your profile. Bucky stared a second longer to the picture displayed on his phone screen than for the others. He couldn't tell what that was: the smile on your lips, the wrinkles at the side of your eyes or simply your eyes; but he couldn't get his eyes off it. Sam immediately started typing a message for you to what Bucky obviously protested. He did not need company because he was just fine on his own.

Despite his super-soldier abilities, he wasn't quick enough to take the phone from his friend's hands. The smile that appeared on Sam’s face annoyed Bucky even more. "What are you afraid of, though guy?" Sam had asked and Bucky eventually backed off, letting him do whatever he was planning on doing. There was no point in stopping Sam. He knew you wouldn't be interested anyway... To be honest, who would be? Bucky got his phone back along with a smirk from his friend. There was no answer after that, and Sam eventually found another topic to annoy the heck out of Bucky.

When he woke up the next morning, your reply notification was patiently waiting for him. For a second, he thought of deleting it, without having a look first. What did he have to lose? Gathering his courage, he opened it. Your words were as genuine as your smile and it made him grin like an idiot, though he made a mental note to later murder Sam for his poor choice of pick-up line. It took him the whole morning to be able to type an answer and another afternoon to press the ‘send’ button. It was the first text of many. Eventually, a lot of texts turned into calls; that turned into meeting up in your favorite French bakery; that turned into movies and restaurant dates.

This was nearly one year and a half ago.

Your relationship with Bucky was cautious and steady. He liked how you would give him his space, but still being right there for him. He liked that you let him stare at you in total awe or that you always had small kind thoughts for him like when you made his eggs the way he preferred in the morning and that everything was so simple - obvious even - by your side. Eventually, Bucky gave his deepest secrets away and you let him know yours.

Her name was Marley.

If Bucky was being honest, finding out you had a two and a half years-old daughter was quite the shock. Not that he couldn't have seen that coming; you would always make plans, your handbag was always full of snacks and hand wipes and for some reason, you would never be available between five and eight p.m. That was also what he liked about you. The stability.

The idea of being involved in a relationship with somebody that already had a child did scare him off. If he decided to continue the relationship, it would not only be a matter of breaking your heart in the process – and well, maybe his too - but breaking a child's heart too. And that more than anything, he was refusing to assume the responsibility, but he owed you that much. You knew his deepest secrets and still, you didn't run away from him. Worse, you trusted him to be around your child.

You both had a lot of discussions about him meeting Marley - Bucky even seek advice to Sam. And as for the rest of your relationship, you took it slow. It started with Bucky showing up to your Sunday walk in Central Park, feeding up the ducks and sharing snacks. You also spent some time at the carnival where he would watch you two on the carousel – sometimes joining the ride too - and he would help Marley win at pick a duck or buy her popcorn. Eventually, he would spend more time with the two of you. It started with spending at least one evening per week at your place, making dinner while watching you playing with Marley in the living room. One evening turned into two, three, five evenings per week. He still could step out if he needed. You still could spend time with your daughter where he wasn't there. You still spent time just the two of you, when Marley was asleep at night or he would take you on date nights. The routine you three put in place was nice, but Bucky wasn't planning on taking Marley’s dad place. God, he would never see himself as a dad and Marley already had one - though in Bucky's opinion, he would not be awarded father-of-the-year.

Today, Bucky was picking Marley up from daycare.

He had done it a million times already, but this time was a little bit different. He was doing it on his own. The babysitter stood you up and you were stuck in an endless one-day meeting. You had called in utter panic, asking him to pick Marley up from daycare and taking care of her until you would be home. He had assured you he would do it and it would be fine. Now that he was standing in front of the building, he was doubting himself. He didn't know if he could do it on his own.

Another shaky sigh and Bucky entered the building. The childcare workers greeted him when he showed up at Marley's room. She was sat at one of these tiny tables making some kind of collage crafts. He planned on waiting for her to finish, just staring like he always did, before announcing himself, but Marley spotted him the second his figure appeared at the door.

"Bucky!" Marley cried out, leaving everything behind and running towards him.

"Hey Mar-Mar," he smiled. She always seemed happy to see him and Bucky wondered if she would eventually grow tired of him being always around.

After they hugged each other, Marley was called to put away her crafts and Bucky encouraged her to go do it. In the meantime, he collected her stuff - her panda backpack, shoes, and coat - so he could get her ready to leave. And he did just that when she got back to him.

"We are taking the train home. I'mna carrying you, is that okay?"

She wrapped her little arms around his neck in response and he lifted her up from the floor. After sharing goodbye to the childcare workers, they were heading home.

On their way to the station, Marley explained in every detail what she had done at daycare that day; Bucky was listening carefully, sometimes asking questions - Carol, she is the one with the curly hair, right? Was Mark mean to you again? - but mostly he was just nodding along. They made it to the station just in time to take the 5:17 p.m. train. It was rush hour and Bucky mindfully chose to hop on one of the cars at the end of the train - the ones he knew would be the less busy at this time of the day. He had only seven stops, so he didn't sit and stood against one of the train windows. By that time, Marley had finished reporting on her day, and she was just watching around, smiling at anyone she would make eye contact with.

After the second stop, her eyes caught the sight of the dog tag around Bucky's neck. She fiddled it through his T-shirt, probably wondering what that was, before taken it out to have a closer look. In her tiny hands, the metal tag seemed to be huge. She looked up at Bucky, with bright eyes and he swore, he would do anything for these eyes.

"What is that?"

"Uh- " Bucky wasn't sure how to explain it in a way a three-years old would understand. "-Every soldier has one. It uh- has my name on it and some other information."

"Is it if you get lost?" she asked, her little eyebrows raised high on her forehead. She did understand a lot of the world around her for her age. "Mommy put a card with her name and her phone number in my bag."

"Yeah, it's something like that."

Marley smiled at him and returned her attention on the letters’ reliefs on the metal. By the fourth stop, she was resting her head on his shoulder while he was still firmly (but not too much) holding her with his left arm. She kept holding his dog tag in her tiny fist and was patiently waiting.

"She is very sweet," the old lady sat on the seat in front of them said to him before leaving the train.

He nodded shyly and looked back at the little girl in his arms. Marley looked so much like you. Her face had still some baby features, she just turned three after all, but she had the same nose and her eyes had the same color as yours. They were the same piercing eyes that when they’d look at him, he felt like they could read his soul. And she did not just look like you. She had also some of your habits and personality traits. She would always be smiling to people she didn’t know. She was always saying ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’. She was obsessed with any kind of animal; the Sundays walks would last forever if she could pet all the dogs she encountered.

The rest of the ride was quiet, and Bucky got off the train on the seventh stop as planned. At the station, people turned on them as they passed. Maybe this was an odd sight: a man in combat boots, dark jeans, and a black leather jacket, carrying a small child in his arms. Especially knowing the kid in question was wearing white leggings, a red fluffy coat, and a stuffed panda backpack. Bucky didn't mind and continued his way to your place.

Marley stayed quiet for the five minutes’ walk to your place, but once Bucky had turned on your street, she wriggled to be freed of his hold. Once her feet touched the ground, she directly ran towards a car parked not far away. She squatted down and started clicking her tongue. A ginger cat immediately came out from underneath the car.

"Careful," Bucky called out. He knew it was not recommended interacting with stray cat as they could be sick with all sorts of disease. And to be fair, it got him a little worried the cat was getting this close to Marley. He could already see her getting bitten by the cat, getting rabies, and losing her arm, or worse: dying.

"That's Gus, he lives at number 7," she said pointing at the building they stopped in front. It had the number written on it.

Gus started rubbing itself against Marley's shins and she gently petted his back. The cat then went to rub on Bucky's combat boots, also greeting him even though they never encountered before. And it continued his way to the building's porch, where it lazily lay down.

"Mommy said we could have a cat when we get a house."

"I've got a cat," Bucky stated and Marley cried out in excitement. She asked him about a hundred questions. What was its name? What was it looking like? Was it friendly? Was it sleeping in his bed with him at night? Bucky never failed to answer one of her questions and they talked about that until they made it in front of your apartment door.

Marley was already on her way to her room when Bucky turned around after locking the door. She had removed her shoes and coat on her own and left them behind without putting them away like you would always request it.

"Uh-uh, we go wash your hands first, okay?"

After that was done, she ran to her room for good this time. Bucky went back to the living room and focused on what he could do to help you. He knew you would get home exhausted from your day at work and he did not want to have you do all the chores you usually did. It was the least he could do.

Somehow, your place was always tidier than his, and he lived on his own. In the kitchen, he found breakfast dishes in the sink and the dishwasher full of the dishes that had been cleaned the night before. That was where he would get started. He put away the dishes easily; he had been around your kitchen a lot those last months and he knew exactly where everything was. He even knew where you were hiding away the chocolate and candies; somewhere Marley didn't have access to.

"Hey Bucky, can I have snacks?"

A look at the watch sitting on his right wrist, she had still a good hour and a half before dinner and he replied positively. He wiped his hands on the dish towel resting on his shoulder and took one of these bamboo sectioned plates he just washed. He was reaching out to the first cupboards in front of him when it suddenly appeared to him, he had no idea what he could give her.

"What does your mom usually give you?" He asked Marley, turning back to her.

Marley shrugged. "Carrots and hummus." And Bucky swore this kid was eating healthier that he ever had.

He started by the fridge, looking for anything he could give to Marley. Thankfully, she wasn't a picky eater so it would be easy for him. Tonight's dinner was in it, along with some vegetables and fruits. He chose grapes because it was the only food, he could see himself eating at that time of the day.

"Grapes and uh-" he looked at the cupboards right next to the fridge "- crackers?"

Marley nodded. Bucky prepared it all on her plate, making sure there was just enough for her to be full but not too much so she would still eat dinner, and handed it to her. She carried it carefully to the living room, Bucky following behind. She had laid out all her crayons on the coffee table next to her Paw Patrol coloring book. He knew about this cartoon because it was the only one Marley ever wanted to watch, she was literally obsessed with it, and she did make him watch some episodes with her. He knew that, when she was playing alone in her room, she would usually pretend she was saving the world with them.

Bucky sat on the carpet, next to Marley, stealing one grape from her plate. She threw him a death glance but offered him some more if he would help with the coloring. He happily complied.

Before dinner was normally bath time. Thankfully, you had said over the phone you would deal with that in the morning. For some reason, Marley did not like baths. A little bit of water in her eyes or ears was too much for her to handle and he wasn't sure he could deal with her being so upset on his own.

He still got her changed in her pajamas - she obviously chose the one with the dalmatian puppy from Paw Patrol you had agreed on buying a few weeks ago; washed her face with a cotton pad and some cleansing lotion, brushed her hair and tried the best he could to tie them in a low ponytail. You would normally braid them for the night, but this was not something Bucky mastered at all - he made a mental note to watch some tutorials on YouTube to learn though.

"Will you and mommy get married?" Marley asked out of nowhere while Bucky was carrying her back to the kitchen to have dinner.

"I don't know," he said, confused. "Why do you ask?"

"I prefer you over my real daddy," Marley admitted. And it broke his heart. Bucky knew how her dad forgot about her third birthday and missed most of his custody days lately. He didn't really understand how somebody could have a child and knowingly decide not take care of them anymore.

The child in his arm was so precious. It amazed him every day how much she could comprehend of the world around her. She was smart, creative, kind. She knew what she wanted, would be very stubborn about it and would do anything to get it – you always said you didn’t understand where she got her fierce mind and Bucky laughed every time because he knew exactly from whom she had gotten it: you. You did such a good job raising her on your own. He also knew you would always choose her over him, and he had to admit, it made him fall in love even more with you.

"Even if I'd marry your mom, I still wouldn't be your daddy officially."

"To me, you would," Marley concluded as if it was as simple as that.

Living with you two permanently. Marrying you. Bucky never thought of it. He liked how this relationship was working: the kindness, the trust, the love. He loved the movie dates with you, the Sundays walks, and the evening just the three of you. He loved how simple it all was and how it made him just happy. Happiest he had been in a long time. And he wondered if he wanted more. The way his heart was fluttering in his chest made him realized, he did. He didn't know if he was ready though.

Back to the kitchen, he put her down on her seat before getting the casserole of potato gratin out of the oven. He put a small portion in her plate, next to some chopped carrots and apple sauce he already prepared. He put it down in front of her and sat next to her.

"Will you eat with mommy?"

"Yeah, is that alright?"

She nodded, rubbing her eyes. They had stayed coloring her books a little too long and it was nearly her bedtime. Smiling softly, he encouraged her to eat. She did while asking some more questions on his cat in between each mouthful. How old is it? Why did you name it Alpine? Has mummy already met it? Do you think she'll like me? Turned out this little one never run out of question.

After dinner, Bucky gave her a small portion of chocolate from the special cupboard and they agreed it would be their little secret. Then, he carried her to the bathroom to brush her tiny teeth. It was started to be late for her and she was clearly fighting against sleep, the lack of it upsetting her.

"I want to see mommy," she cried, lips trembling and eyes full of tears.

"I know Mar-Mar, she'll get there soon," Bucky tried to comfort her. You hadn't text yet, meaning you weren't on your way still. He knew Marley would be asleep before you got home. "We can read a book in your bed while we wait for her, yeah?"

Marley nodded and let Bucky carry her to her bed. She had her head rested on his right shoulder the whole time. She crawled under the covers the moment her body was dropped off on the bed. She let Bucky choose the bedtime story and he chose the one he knew she liked so much.

He laid beside her gently and she immediately reached out closer to him. He wrapped his right arm around her, and her hands somehow found his dog tag again. A small kiss on her forehead and Bucky started reading the book in his left hand. Marley was listening carefully, helping him by turning the page.

At the end of the story, she was fast asleep against him, his dog tag still in her tiny fist. Bucky did not dare moving, afraid he would wake her up if he did. He observed the small child against him and listened to her soft breathes. She looked so peaceful and it made him thought of the way she had welcomed him into her life. Just like you, she had taken him as a whole; with his trauma, his insecurities, his quietness, and his staring habits. And now, she had him wrapped around his little finger. He knew deep in his guts he wouldn't let anything happen to you or your daughter. He realized that now. That made him think some more: maybe he was ready after all. And this time, he would not let happiness slip away from him.

Bucky stayed like that until twenty minutes later, when you showed up on your daughter’s room doorstep. You looked exhausted yet still radiant. A smile had formed on your lips at the sight in front of you. It made you melt right on the spot.

"Hey," Bucky greeted you softly.

You came closer, walking on your tiptoes, careful of not waking up your daughter. You laid besides them, kissing your daughter little fist, and tucked yet another strand of hair behind her ear. You looked back at Bucky, who was intensely staring at you. His left arm was already wrapped around your shoulders, bringing you close. You kissed his jaw, making him smile gently. "Thank you for taking care of her. Did it go okay?"

"More than okay." He kissed your forehead while you snuggled closer to him. His heart could burst of the feeling of having you two near him forever.

He wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

#jbb #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky x single mom!reader #lea's writing #bucky barnes x you

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harry-writings · 3 years

Text

We’ll Be Alright

The one where Harry and Y/n have a hard time coping without one another, and Harry finally understands what it means to be a husband

Part 1

Part 2

Masterlist

How to support me <333

Y/n knows she’s hit rock bottom when she pours her fifth glass of whiskey at three in the morning, lighting up her seventh cigarette on her bedroom balcony, as if furthering herself away from her right state of mind will somehow bring her closer to all the answers she had been looking for.

She doesn’t even smoke.

The last time she came this close to a cigarette was five months before she found out she was pregnant with Topher. It was the third time Harry didn’t show up to marriage counseling, and Y/n was so upset and so angry and so hurt that she couldn’t stop shaking, couldn’t stop crying until it was in her hands.

This time, though, the shaking and the crying don’t stop.

She’s sitting on one of the balcony chairs, her elbows propped up on her knees, one hand resting at the roots of her hair and the other holding her glass in her palm and her cigarette between her fingers. Her leg is bouncing and her eyes are wet, zoning herself out from the rest of the world, trying to get as far away from herself as possible.

She hasn’t seen Harry in thirteen days.

Not only has she not seen Harry, but she also hasn’t talked to Harry or had any ties left to Harry for nearly two weeks now and Y/n can barely hold herself together anymore. She’s surprised she’s even gotten this far without him.

They aren’t divorced — the papers were left on the courtroom table practically untouched, and though she hates to admit it to herself, Y/n was the first to leave them behind — but they might as well have been.

He wasn’t even the one to pick up Topher today. And she didn’t realize how much she’d miss their traditions — even the ones they’ve made while being separated — until she saw Mitch standing at the other side of her door and watched as he buckled her son into the same carseat Harry once had in his car.

It was at that moment that she knew that even though they weren’t divorced, they really were over, and it was enough to push her over the edge.

Now she’s so drunk she can barely remember where she is. The skyline and the buildings look familiar, but everything is so out of touch she can’t find the same peace and comfort in it as she once used to.

Everything has faded to nothing.

And whether it’s from the alcohol, or the revisitation of bad habits, or if it’s from grieving the loss of somebody still alive, but everything to her feels numb. All that’s left is pain and sadness and the fear of living the rest of her life exactly like this — lost, hopeless, and alone.

She thinks back to the day she slept with Harry — as she does, she throws the last bit of whiskey down her throat and swallows it down without a flinch — and how that day was forever going to be the last day she had ever held him, had ever kissed him, had ever told him that she loved him.

If she had known — really, really known — it was going to be her last chance to do any of those things, she wouldn’t have pushed him away. She would have done all the things Harry wanted — would have spent the rest of their day in bed, drinking wine, celebrating all that once was and what always could be.

Because that’s what she wanted, too. That’s what she’s wanted since the beginning of this mess they’ve made of themselves, she just didn’t ever want to admit it.

This feeling that burns in her stomach at the thought of not being with Harry makes her want to scream. She can’t escape it, even as the alcohol seeps into her bloodstream and takes away every other feeling in her body.

She sobs, her chin tucking into her chest and her palms pressing to her forehead, agonizing and inhumane cries falling past her lips.

Her Harry is no longer hers.

She squeezes her eyes shut, a puddle of tears falling down her cheeks as she does so, her hand dropping the whiskey glass, her cigarette left sparked on the balcony floor as her fingers twist and pull at her hair. She hunches over her knees, trying so desperately to put herself back together again.

But it’s impossible. She knows it’s impossible because it’s him that makes her whole — him that holds her and keeps her together, even when everything else around her is falling apart.

She’d do anything to feel his arms around her now.

And it’s all she can think about — how lonely and cold and frigid it feels without the feel of his touch, and how loud the silence is without the sound of his voice in her ear, telling her how in love with her he is, giggling at her blush.

And she’s had so much to drink she can trick her mind into believing that he’s here, if she thinks about it hard enough. She mistakes the wind for the feel of him walking past her, smells his cologne in the liquor, but it’s still too quiet for her to really, truly believe it.

And she just wants to believe it. For once, she wants to pretend that he’s here with her, loving her, wanting her the way he always used to. Even if it’s the wrong thing to do.

Her hand shakingly reaches for her phone.

“‘Ello, this is Harry! I’m sorry I couldn’t make it to your call, but I promise to return to you whenever I’m next available. Thank you, talk soon! Bye.”

And oh, how good it feels to hear his voice again.

It brings her back to all the times she’d call Harry while he was away on tour and how every phone call lasted at least two hours. Whether it was to check up on him, or to wish him goodnight, or to have phone sex, he never failed to make every second they were spending apart feel so worth it.

She calls him six more times just to hear his voicemail.

By the seventh and last phone call, Y/n is so low she’s tempted to just finish it off — down the pack of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey that have kept her more company than her husband. Maybe filling her void with vices will be enough to last her until the blackout, where she will finally be free.

But what will she have left if she does?

The loneliness and the sadness and the hopelessness will all still be there. She will still wake up to a cold bed, in an empty home, with nobody to share her life with. She will still have this sick and twisted feeling that happiness doesn’t exist outside of her Harry — that happiness doesn’t exist within these walls, miles away from him, with only herself to hold.

She can’t keep waking up without him anymore. She can hardly keep living.

So, she does the first and only thing that comes to her mind.

She calls Mitch.

The clock nearly at four in the morning doesn’t seem to strike her as her drunken fingers struggle to tap on his contact name, knowing that this is the only way.

“Mitch.” Y/n hiccups when he answers her call, watching as everything around her starts to spin out of her control, instinctively reaching her hand beside her to hold onto Harry’s — the way she always did whenever she got too drunk. Her heart hurts even worse than before when she’s met with nothing but the ache of what once was. “Come get me, please.”

Something in the air shifts around Mitch.

He has known Y/n for years now, yet he can barely recognize that it’s her voice on the phone. He has to look down at the name on his phone twice before pressing the speaker to his ear, his heart nearly still as he wonders the reason behind such a disturbing and unexpected request.

“Y/n… is everything alright?” He asks tentatively, carefully, because she’s never awake this late at night and has never sounded so hurt. “What’s happened, love?”

She wipes her nose with the back of her hand, sniffling, almost angrily.

“My husband’s been ignoring me for the past two weeks and I’m not —” She stops, sucking in a broken breath, not even believing the words she just spoke because she never believed he’d leave her all alone for so long. “I’m not taking it so well, obviously.”

Mitch sighs.

He should have known, from the second he saw the look on her face earlier that evening, that her night was going to end like this. The love she and Harry share is a kind he’s never seen before — something so far from ordinary, something he couldn’t even understand despite the love for his own girlfriend, who lays beside him so peacefully now.

Their love is more than love. It’s deeper, more soulful, as if they have found each other in every past life and every after life. They truly are, in the most unexplainable of ways, made for one another eternally. Forever, they are theirs.

It’s both a blessing and a curse — their preexisting connection— because they are everything together, but absolutely nothing apart.

“Y/n, love... he’s not ignoring you. He wouldn’t dream of it.”

Oh, how she wishes it was true.

“He didn’t even want to see me tonight. He sees me two days out of the week and he didn’t even want that. There was a time he’d do anything just to look at me for even a second.”

He wishes he knew what to say.

It’s not that Harry doesn’t want to see her — all he does is cry and whine and sulk about how he hasn’t — he just believes leaving Y/n alone is truly what’s best for her right now.

She has barely had any time away from him. Surely, she did have the weekdays to herself and Topher, but she still had to see him every weekend — still had to face him at her doorway; still had to be around him, even on her worst days; still had to be reminded of everything that had gone wrong.

Being around him confuses her. He knows that now, and so does Mitch. But Mitch always knew. Y/n has always been too in deep with Harry. One proper look at him would be enough to send her to her knees.

He’s her greatest weakness.

She needs to be alone.

Or, so he once thought.

“Have you been drinking?”

Y/n laughs in an almost sarcastic way, the side of her wrist pulling at the corner of her eye as she wipes away at her tears.

“Drinking, frying my brain with nicotine, crying my fucking eyes out.” Her lips tremble as she stuffles away a cry. “All of the above.”

Mitch frowns.

This behavior isn’t unusual for her — it hasn’t been since her marriage with Harry started to turmoil — but it never gets easier to witness.

It’s when she’s in the depths of her own hell that she depends on the intoxication to get her by, as if it numbed her from all the pain she’d be living with without it. And as hard as it is for him to admit it, she only ever feels this way whenever it comes to Harry.

This side of her never existed until she met him.

“You want to see him, don’t you?”

To see him. To touch him. To talk to him. To hold him. She wants it all, everywhere, for the rest of the night — for the rest of her life if he were to let her.

But she can’t get ahead of herself. She won’t be able to survive it if she does.

“Even if it’s just for a second.”

His heart falls.

“Will it get you to put down the drugs and alcohol?”

Her eyes linger at the nearly empty bottle of whiskey, and though it still calls for her just as strongly, she knows it’s not what she truly wants.

“Yeah.”

She can hear him smile softly through the phone.

“Then hang tight, love. I’m on my way.”

Harry hasn’t been able to sleep all night.

And if he wanted to get technical, he supposes he hasn’t been able to sleep since he and Y/n nearly signed their marriage away, but tonight is far, far worse than anything else he’s ever felt.

His body senses his good days. The sun somehow brighter, the rain lighter, the clouds thinner — he sees it all so differently on the days he goes to see Y/n. He’s used to the routine, he looks forward to it all week, even if it is just to see her for a couple minutes at her doorway.

So to say his body feels the loss of her is an understatement.

He caught himself reaching his hand over to her side of the bed one too many times, only to shiver and whine when met with the emptiness of it. His fingers would squeeze at her pillowcase, hugging it closer to him, fantasizing about her smell and her feel as he tried to drift into his dreamland — that only, of course, consisted of her.

But it was helpless.

He moves to the living room couch, where he finds himself flipping through the photo album of their wedding day — the same one he claimed he had thrown out when Y/n asked if she could keep it, moments before she was about to move out after he had brought the divorce papers home.

Of course he hadn’t thrown it out, but he could never tell Y/n about the lies he only told to make himself feel better about his decision.

He was angry and he was hurt, both of which consumed him in the scariest and most dangerous of ways, leading him to sink his teeth in a lie and spitting it in her face just to make her feel all those things, too. Though he’s sure she already did.

But as he flips through the pages now, reliving that day torturously in his head, remembering how beautiful she looked and how in love he was, he can’t help but feel like these moments weren’t his to take.

He had kept their home — had kept the furniture they bought together when they first moved in, kept all the movies and cd’s they’d play together each night, kept all the pictures she had chosen for the walls and tables he hadn’t had a clue on how to decorate.

He stayed so perfectly in their past while she was forced to move on, away from him, when she wasn’t even the one who wanted to leave.

He had truly taken everything from her — her love, her trust, her marriage, her home — and he didn’t even have the decency to give her the one and only thing she had asked for before she left.

That day was hers, it always has been and it always will be. She never once gave up on it the way he once had, always holding it so close to her, always cherishing its moments.

This simply doesn’t belong to him.

He presses his forehead down to a picture of Y/n wildly smiling at the camera, her hair styled up, makeup slightly smudged, as if holding her to him. And he rubs his thumb along the laminate, right against her cheek, in the same way she always liked.

“I’m so sorry.” He sobs out before he can try to reason that it’s not her, that she can’t hear him, that she can’t feel the way he’s holding and touching her right now, that he looks like a lovesick idiot for thinking this is anything close to the real thing.

None of that matters to him right now, though, as he holds the picture to him and realizes this is the closest he has been to her in so long. And she needs to know.

She just needs to know.

“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Harry must have cried himself to sleep because the next thing he knows, his front door slams open against the foyer wall, julting him off of the photo album and leaving him with dry and confused eyes.

Without much of a second thought, he throws the photo album off his lap and stands frantically from the couch, his head twisting around in an attempt to follow the footsteps scurrying towards the living room.

He knows it’s her just from that sound alone.

“Y/n?” He calls out in question, still delusional from his sleeping state, wondering if he had even woken up at all.

But it’s when he sees her stumbling toward him with soaken and beaten eyes that he knows this isn’t just a dream — that she really is here, back in their home, with him at last. And he would be happy, would be so goddamn happy to have her in front of him again, if she didn’t look so broken.

He can’t stand the sight of her like this.

“Y/n?” He asks again, devastated.

But she doesn’t answer him. Rather, she does the one and only thing her mind can make sense of now that he’s in front of her again.

Her trembling hands cradle the back of his neck before pulling her to him, their lips meeting for a sloppy, drunken, frenzied kiss — one that nearly has Harry falling to his knees before her.

She pushes him onto the couch, barely giving him any time to compose himself before she sits herself down on his lap and kisses him again, hard — harder than before and harder than she ever has, she thinks.

Teeth clattering, tongues battling, mouths opening, lips smothering. It’s desperate and messy and sloppy, but she doesn’t want it any other way.

She knows this feeling. She wants this feeling. It’s what she keeps going back to because it’s safe and warm and familiar. She could be in the middle of nowhere, lost with no direction or any sense of belonging, yet the feel of his lips on hers would somehow make her feel at home, just the way she is.

She moans against him, her hands splayed on the back of his head and neck as if to keep him there — on her, with her.

His hands, however, don’t know where to go. They switch between her arms and her thighs, setting boundaries for himself because he’d give into her in a heartbeat if he were to touch her just right. And he’s already doing so much he shouldn’t, he’d ruin himself if he were to go any further.

So as a subtle way to slow it down, he drags his lips down to her chin before leaving open-mouthed kisses along the shape of her neck — devouring her taste, savoring the sweetness.

He’s missed this. He’s missed her, so much so he can’t even remember the reason he let it all go. Right now, in this moment, nothing seems worth it enough to ever give this up.

He can hardly think straight.

“Y/n, please don’t do this to me…” Harry whines against her collarbone, her touch and smell and feel overwhelming him beyond all forms of comprehension. “This isn’t you. We’ve been here before and —”

“And I want to make it right this time.”

He nearly cries.

He bites down gently on the base of her throat, nibbling at it, a strangled whine falling from his lips as his hands slither to her back, pushing his body up against hers as if to bring her closer. And he growls silently to himself as she starts grinding herself against him.

“Y/n —”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Baby…” He tries again, to which she giggles and smiles as she nibbles on the lobe of his ear. He gets lost in it for a moment — to hear her laugh, to feel her hands rub along his chest and up his neck, to have her so close, like nothing ever happened — but he snaps himself out of it just as quickly as he fell into it. “You’re drunk.”

He tries to reason, to make her see that he does want this, more than anything else in the world, but he can’t. Because if it were to happen again, he wants it to be real. He wants her to mean it, to need it, to be all in it with him the way he’s all in it with her.

He wants her to stay.

“I’m only drunk because I miss you so much.” She confesses breathlessly to him, to which he groans and throws his head back, as if he were in pain. “So give me what I want and nothing else will matter.”

His hands find purchase to her hips, his fingers squeezing at the flesh of them as he tries to steady the movement of her groin against his, desperate to hold himself together. But she makes it so hard when she knows exactly where and how to touch him — when she knows that he can never resist her all over him, begging for more.

His eyes are pinched forward and closed, his head still hanging off the edge of the couch, words seeming to fail him as she moans against his shoulder, sinking her teeth into the flesh of it as she works herself harder against him.

“Fuck, you know I want to.” He croaks out, his hands giving into their urge to wander every dip and curve and inch of her, even the places he shouldn’t. “You know I do.”

Good, she thinks. I want you to want it. I need you to want it. I want you to want it so bad you give it to me all night, all morning, all day. I need you to want me.

She lifts her head up from his shoulder so that she can look at him with a winning smirk, both of her hands fisting at the collar of his t-shirt to steady herself upon his lap, her movements now smooth and effortless, giving him everything he needs to give in.

He lets out a proper moan at this, allowing himself a moment of weakness to feed his undying greed.

His mouth hangs open and practically drools as he touches her in ways he’s been aching to, rubbing himself against her, allowing her lips to wander anywhere and everywhere they craved.

It all feels so good and all so right, he wishes it was enough to make things work, but he knows in his heart that it isn’t.

Not now, at least.

“But I can't — I can’t take advantage of you. I — oh, fuck!” He yelps from below her when her arm sneaks between them so her fingers can scratch at the skin of his upper inner thigh, mercilessly giving him everything that has ever made him feel good.

And it’s all too much.

One more right touch in the right place and he’s done for, as pathetic and weak as that makes him. But it’s only for her. Only for her does he find himself shuddering and moaning and creeping on the edge for, one push away from falling off, waiting to be caught by her.

After all this time, after all they had been through — all the fighting, all the tears, all the downs and lows they’ve lost themselves in — she still consumes him whole. She still is and forever will be the only person he’ll ever love like this.

There is nothing and nobody else. There is only her.

Which is why he can’t let himself do it. He can’t let her do it.

So right before he reaches the end, his hands frantically grab onto hers and pin them down against each side of his legs, her forehead meeting his shoulder, her body collapsing onto his.

“No!” He bites through clenched teeth and shut eyes, his hands squeezing hers as his body ricochets back to reality, yet still holding her close. “No, no, fuck. No.”

And whatever remained of Y/n’s heart burns to a crisp at that one godforsaken word.

Harry never denies her.

Even at their lowest and darkest moments, her simple touch made him powerless. He succumbed to her even when he told himself he wouldn’t, gave into her touch like a drug he couldn’t get off of no matter how hard he tried, drowned in her love even when he swore he no longer craved it.

It’s the very reason Y/n found herself pregnant in the midst of their downfall. Harry never stopped wanting her.

She should have known that everything was different now, but she never expected it to be like this.

“Oh.” Y/n’s lips tremble, her eyes wide with woe, glossy with burning tears as she looks at him through slow blinks. “I get it, I —”

“Y/n…”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

She’s nearly sobbing now, her breaths heavy and frantic as she pushes herself away from him, practically falling off of his lap. And if his head wasn’t so clouded from what had just happened between them, he wouldn’t have let her go.

She’s a mess, a kind he’s never seen in her before and it breaks him in two when he sees her face soaked in tears, her hands trembling as they push her hair back, her eyes looking at everything but him.

He is just so sick of her looking away from him, and so tired of watching her cry.

He never wanted this.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Harry speaks softly, his hand reaching out to grab ahold of hers before she has the chance to walk out on him again. And the shock of his touch is enough to bring her right back to him. “Baby, this is your home more than it is mine. Your son is here, I am here, don’t ever think you have to be sorry for wanting to come home.”

She’s silent for a moment, trying to make sense of his words and what they mean. But it’s so hard to focus on anything other than how good it feels to be holding his hand, and how that’s all it took to get the room to stop spinning around her.

She trusts him.

Whatever he wants out of this and whatever he’s thinking, she trusts. Her body wouldn’t be so reliant on him if she didn’t. And it’s been years since she’s felt this feeling she feels so fiercely now, but she could never mistake it. It was once the most familiar feeling in the world to her.

He rubs at her knuckles, patiently waiting for her to respond. But she doesn’t, her gaze just drunkenly fixated at their intertwined fingers, a hint of longing in her eye.

Even when he’s right here, holding her, convincing her to stay… she still feels as though he isn’t all hers. She wants more of him, as if she hasn’t seen and touched and loved every inch of his body and claimed every last beat of his heart.

She is the only one and yet she feels as though she’ll never be enough for him, after all this time, after all these years spent together. It makes him feel like the worst person in the world.

He lifts her hand up to his lips, as delicate and gentle as possible, just the way she likes.

“And as for kissing me.” He adds, eyes looking up fondly at her as he kisses at her knuckles one by one. “You’re my wife, it’s what I want. I just don’t want us to make the same mistakes we once did.”

He settles her fingers against his mouth for a moment longer before pulling her closer to where he sits, looking insistently in her hopeful eyes.

“If we sleep together… it’ll only drive us more apart, just like it did the last time. And I swear to god —” he hangs his head off the edge of the couch again, his fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose, trying to fathom the idea of it. “If I have to go another day without seeing you, I’m going to fucking lose it. I’m fucking miserable.”

She knows it’s true. Whether she wanted to hear it or not, sleeping together without speaking to one another would only bring them back to the same dark, numbing cycle they’ve been through for far too long now.

But she wants to milk it — wants him to do whatever he can to get her to stay because she needs to know he really wants it, needs to know he really wants her, before it’s too late.

And when Harry lifts his head back up to look at her, his heart nearly explodes from within him.

“Come here.” He tugs softly on her hand, a small smile playing on his lips when he sees Y/n pouting down at him with furrowed brows — the same face she used to make whenever she wanted to be angry with him, but couldn’t. It brings him back to all their happiest times. “Come here!”

He pulls her down to him until she lands on his lap, both of them laughing as she nearly trips over her own two feet.

The moment stills when their eyes meet, however, the giggling dying down and their smiles falling as they captivate each other with just a single look.

His fingers move her hair out of her face, his palm resting on the side of her cheek, his thumb rubbing along the skin of her blush as he admires just how beautiful she’s gotten since the last time he had seen her.

And she does the same to him — her fingers pulling at his hair, dancing along his scalp, humming in admiration as her eyes wander every dip and curve of his face. He is just so perfect, it endlessly mesmerizes her.

“I’ve missed you.” She confesses softly, her gaze trained on his lips, her tongue poking out to lick her own.

“I’ve missed you so much more, my love.”

And they meet for a kiss — a real kiss this time. Not the hungry, desperate, fevered kisses they’ve been sharing since their separation. It’s slow, their lips just settling against each other’s, refusing to move, only leaning in deeper when desired.

It’s how he kissed her on their wedding day.

She remembers how different it was, now, as she feels it again — full of vows and promises, hopes and dreams, a hint of sorrow for all the times he had let her down, and how he’d never wish to do it again.

Quite truthfully, she never wants it to end. She could stay pressed against his lips like this all night and never once get tired of it — would probably beg for more if it ever came down to it. But she doesn’t have to anymore, she knows that now.

They both pull away together, dopey and loopy smiles painted on their faces. And it doesn’t get better than this.

“Can I show you something?” He whispers to her, his thumb pets at her temple, circles and circles. “And know that when I give it to you, it’s me trying to make this right again? No matter how much it hurts?”

His breath falters when her lips press gently against his wrist, humming a small “mhm” against the skin of it.

She always did that whenever she could. Whether he be holding her cheek, or rubbing at her head, or running his fingers through her hair, her lips would seek just the smallest bit more of him. And it always warmed him to feel it. It reminded him that yes, she did in fact love him and want him and need him with the same burning he has for her.

It always felt too good to be true.

And to know that she’s feeling it all over again makes every worry in the world collapse around him, leaving him with nothing but the life he had always desired with her, and the hope that it only gets better from here.

He smiles in endearment, his own lips seeking the sole of her cheek before he turns his body to the fallen photo album, his fingers shaking as he reaches for it.

She gasps before he even has the chance to sit up fully.

“Is that —” she stops before she finishes, her hand flying over her suddenly trembling lips because it is.

He looks at her with eyes full of regret as he holds the photo album out for her to take, but she’s in too much shock. All she can process is that it’s here, still alive in the home they once shared, not shredded and burned and broken like she always thought it was.

And it just doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that over a year ago, he told her a lie that ripped her apart from the inside out every day since he’d spoken it. It doesn’t matter that all she had left of their wedding were the moments captured in her memory, to which she went back to every night before bed.

It just doesn’t matter because she’s just so happy to see it again — so, so, so fucking happy that she can’t help but sob into her palm, admiring it, somehow at peace with the idea of reuniting with it with her husband right beside her, shedding the same tears as she is.

All she has ever wanted is happening all at once, and she couldn’t ask for more.

“Can we look through it?” She sniffles, her fingers graciously running along the cover of it.

He pulls her in closer, his head nodding, a breathy laugh of euphoria falling from his lips.

As if she even had to ask.

It was the next morning that Harry decided he couldn’t do it anymore.

Upon waking up to an empty bed, there wasn’t this overwhelming sense of sadness rippling through him, or loneliness drowning him to his duvets, refusing to set him free. It felt… right, and warm, and safe, and like it had always meant to be this way.

He was weightless as he carried his naked body over to his dresser, where he slipped on a new pair of briefs and one of his plain white t-shirts. He even found himself humming a tune he only ever sang to on good mornings.

And it was when he made his way downstairs that he started to hear his company.

He found Y/n in his day old t-shirt, holding Topher at her hip, flipping pancakes at the stovetop, humming and bouncing to the beat of a song they played during their wedding ceremony.

Her hair was unbrushed, her nail polish chipped, one of her socks pulled too high and the other too low, in her most hungover state. And the world stopped turning then, it seemed. Because it was the most simple and most casual sight to see, yet something he was once so blinded to.

He finally felt at home.

And it was as if nothing else had ever really, truly mattered. His world simply revolved around the two littles ones in his kitchen, getting their hands messy with pancake batter, giggling with every other step they took.

And he knew he couldn’t do it anymore.

Which is exactly how he ended up here — seven hours later, standing on one knee in front of his wife, whose hand fits so perfectly in his.

She sits cross-legged upon the kitchen chair, her plate half empty and on her second glass of her mocktail. And if he had more preparation, he would have taken her out instead of settling for her favorite home cooked meal. But something about doing this here, in the home they once shared together, at their happiest hour, feels much more real to him.

“H? What are you doing?” Y/n asks with wide eyes, looking down at their intertwined hands, squeezing onto his tighter.

“I know we’re already married, but I needed to do this anyway.”

He sucks in a breath as the pad of his thumb passes through her knuckles, slightly flicking her engagement ring in the process.

“When I left earlier, it wasn’t for work. I mean, it was for work but not — but not in the way you may think.”

Y/n tilts her head down at him, her eyebrows furrowed. Her heart races with all the endless possibilities, the pit in her stomach falling with it. And she really does try to not seem worried, but she can’t help but let it crash over her.

She had just gotten her husband back. Finally, she’s his and he’s hers and that’s all she ever wanted. That’s all she ever needed, so how is she expected to say goodbye so soon?

How would she ever survive it?

“I terminated the contract.”

Her heart stops beating.

Her body sits frozen still as Harry bites at his bottom lip, where he hides a smile.

This truly is it — the beginning of their forever, the start to the life they always wanted to share alone, with no distractions, no obligations, no anything besides each other and their child — and he doesn’t want it any other way.

“I’m done with having a career that takes me away from you. And I’m so sick and tired of pretending like this is the life I wanted to have with you. It wasn’t, baby. It isn’t.”

But she just can’t believe what she’s hearing.

The words had translated yet somehow, she can’t make sense of them. She can’t make sense of anything as her mind twists and turns around what they could mean and what it could mean for them as a couple.

“You — you terminated the contract? I don’t — I don’t understand. I —”

"If it were ever to come down to you or my music, I’d choose you in a heartbeat.” The fingers of his free hand twist at her wedding band, hypnotizing her. “I did it all for you — the writing, the touring, the traveling. My future with you was all I ever cared about and yet, I had somehow convinced myself that my music meant more to me, when it never really did.”

Her breaths get deeper and deeper, completely and utterly overwhelmed. And if it weren’t for the tears of happiness leaking from her eyes, Harry wouldn’t know what she’s truly feeling inside.

But he knows. Oh, how he knows.

“I choose you, Y/n. And I choose Topher and I choose our Alaskan home everyday for the rest of our lives. That’s what I choose. That’s what I will always choose.”

It’s those words that make her really start to lose it.

How long she had been waiting for this moment, she can’t even remember anymore. So much time has passed and yet everyday, she dreamed and hoped and prayed and died to hear him say that to her.

She had been waiting for so long, she once believed them to be impossible.

But here he is on one knee again, sacrificing his entire life and heart and soul just to make their marriage right. He wants to leave the music behind rather than leaving her to be all alone. He wants to move away from the life he had built for himself and rather spend the rest of it with her.

He wants her, for the first time in what feels like centuries, he finally wants her.

“But — but you — how? How did you — what did you do?”

“Don’t worry about the how, okay? What matters is that I made it work and I have more than enough to last our family a lifetime. I promise you that.”

One of her hands reaches forward to cup at his cheek, pulling herself closer to him because she needs to feel him, all of him — needs to feel the heat of his skin, the beat of his heart, the warmth of his breath.

She needs it all, all around her, until she drowns in it.

“Don’t care about the money, just — just want to make sure you’re okay.”

His wife is reaching for him, pulling him in, wanting and loving him despite everything he put her through… how could he not be okay?

He’s on top of the world right now.

“Baby, I’m so much more than okay. I have you, don’t I?” She nods her head as she wipes her tears away, sniffling with trembling lips and shaking hands. “Then that’s all I need.”

She sobs against him, her face tucked in his shoulder as he holds her hands between them, kissing at her head.

And sometime in the near future — when Harry and Y/n have found everything they had lost, have grown to be better together than ever spent apart, and have become the best parents they could ever be to their son — he’ll rent out a small venue in the outskirts of town and renew his wedding vows to his wife, whom he plans to never be parted from, even in death.

“So, Y/n, baby love.” They both giggle at the pet name, her head lifting from his shoulder and meeting his eye halfway. “Will you please do the honors of being my lawfully wedded wife, and the mother of our disgustingly perfect child, in our home in Alaska? Forever?”

She nods her head, her thoughts clouded by euphoria, her hand still in her husband’s.

As if he even had to ask.

#THIS REALLY TOOK ME FOREVER #THE WRITERS BLOCK WAS REAL HERE #BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY IT ANYWAYS :D #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines

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heliads · 3 years

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The Football Player (Part One)

Based on this request: “Bucky is a football player and you are a fan of the team but you're also really shy. Secretly Bucky also developed a crush on you. He sees you getting mocked by some idiots and he gets in between to stand up for you. Later then he asks you for a walk and he kisses you.”

masterlist / part two

According to every ounce of common sense still left in your body, you should be paying attention. You’re in school, might as well actually learn something, right? You have a test next period, and if you were smart or wanted to pass at all, you should be focusing right now, tracking every single word that your professor is saying. The only problem is that you’re not doing this whatsoever. No, your gaze is instead directed out the window, where a certain football team is just beginning practice.

It’s not like you were intentionally trying to get distracted. You had come to the classroom right on time, pencils lined up and notebook out, ready to start the day. Your gaze just happened to accidentally shift to the window instead, and when you saw number seventeen in red and gold, well, how could you focus on math at a time like this? You’d seen James Barnes around the school many times, but he never ceases to amaze you.

Honestly, even talking about him tends to light a fire behind your cheeks. You’ve seen this movie dozens of times before: shy, studious girl falls for the football player, hijinks ensue. However, this isn’t a Hollywood blockbuster. Bucky is a star member of the team, and you’re just a fan of your school’s football games. Whenever you do icebreakers in class and you’re forced to describe yourself in one word, you always reach for ‘bookish’ or ‘smiling’. Certainly never ‘superbly athletic’ or ‘on Bucky’s radar in any way’. Those aren’t even one word.

However, you never quite seem to let yourself be brought back to reality. Time and time again, you don the red and gold colors of your school- Mid-Capital University, or MCU, ready to go cheer on the team and your favorite player especially so. In fact, there’s a game tonight, you’ll be going with your friend. No matter how many times you laugh at yourself, though, you can’t shake your crush. You doubt it’ll be going away anytime soon.

The night is young, the shouts loud. You cheer with your friend and the rest of the school as the football team runs out onto the field. Their manager, a Mr. Stark, watches from the sidelines, yelling directions or complaining about how much the equipment is going to cost. The team jogs over to their captain, Steve Rogers, to huddle up and discuss final strategy. Steve is a senior, and you’ve heard rumors that he’s chosen Sam Wilson to take his place as captain next year. He’s Bucky’s best friend, so you’ve heard, although they pretend to fight often enough that you’d think they were rivals.

Bucky is here as well now, eyes glinting from underneath his helmet. He’d had long hair for the longest time, but when he’d cut it over the summer there had been more than a few desolate sighs from the cheerleaders. You had to smile at that- at least you weren’t head-over-heels enough to give up your crush based on his hair. You weren’t that bad yet.

As you watch, the team takes their position. They’ll be playing their rivals tonight, the Hydras. Steve heads to the back, Bucky and Sam on either side of him. Further along the team, you can begin to recognize other players- Scott Lang, a kid who’s scrawny off the field but seems to grow twice in size the second he puts on his gear, Peter Parker, the freshman who managed to make it on the team within his first few days, and Natasha Romanoff, the one girl on the team who’s got a death stare promising she’ll tear any objectors to shreds.

The whistle blows, and the teams are off. You watch with bated breath as Bucky darts left, right, catches the ball from Steve and takes off down the field. Apprehension grows across the student body until at last- touchdown, your school! You rise with the others, cheering in unison. Maybe you’re just being silly, but you could swear Bucky looked at you with a smile just as he started off back towards the line.

The rest of the football game is a breeze. Your school wins easily, and Bucky definitely did his part to secure the victory. The next day, everyone is still buzzing over the catches and near misses with their friends, not wanting to miss a single moment. You suppose it’s still on your mind, which is why you’re frozen in your tracks when your new lab partner sits down beside you in biology.

It’s Bucky. Of course it is Bucky. Of course, the one time you have to have a new lab partner in class, your teacher manages to have the terrible luck to place you with the one person who reduces you to a blushing mess every time he steps within ten feet of you. Bucky slings his backpack down beside his chair, offering you an easy smile like a flyer, free of charge.

“I’m Bucky.” He says, and you remember yourself. “I know. I saw the game, you were really good. I’m Y/N, uh, by the way.” Bucky’s smile grows even wider when you mention the game, if that’s possible. “You saw the game? That’s so nice of you.” You feel like you can’t form a coherent thought. “Yeah, I went with my friends. Your team won.” You want to slap yourself in the head- of course he won, he was there. You’re stating the obvious.

But Bucky doesn’t laugh at you, or act like you’ve said anything strange. He just nods, shoulders slumping slightly as he thinks about last night’s game. “It was hard. I guess every time you go against your rival school the pressure’s just ten times worse. It took a lot to just run out on the field.”

He stiffens slightly after he says this, like he wasn’t intending on sharing that secret just yet. However, you’re just grateful that you’re not the only one saying whatever pops into your head. “I can’t blame you. If it’s worth anything, though, I thought you were great.” Bucky’s beaming smile is back, brighter than ever. “It’s worth a lot from you.”

Maybe this sudden seating arrangement won’t be that bad after all.

Your friend catches up to you the second you leave the biology room behind. She looks back and forth between you and Bucky’s retreating form, something in between astonishment and a teasing grin lingering on her face. “Tell me I didn’t just make that up. Tell me you’re actually the lab partner of the one and only Bucky Barnes, the guy you’ve been crushing on for, like, forever.”

You shove her slightly, although you can’t help but smile. “It’s true. I don’t know how, but it’s true. Guess the bio teacher really liked me that period.” Your friend loops an arm around your shoulders. “It’s not just him who really likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? All through class, he kept stealing glances. I think Bucky Barnes has a crush on you.”

You stop in your tracks. “That’s impossible. He would never.” Your friend crows in victory. “But he did! You don’t stare at somebody like that unless you’re hopelessly in love with them. It’s the same way you stare at him.” Indignation rises in you like a spring. “I don’t stare at him. I just observe, casually.” Your friend snorts. “Well, you casually observe him a lot. Honestly, I just see this as a success. If you can get the star football player to fall in love with you, then I think I can win the lottery or something.”

Even after your laughter rises and dies away, you can’t help but think about what your friend said. Surely it’s impossible- Bucky would never so much as talk to you outside of class, let alone have a crush on you. But your friend wasn’t exactly lying. You had seen Bucky out of the corner of your eye, the way a smile lingered on his lips when he glanced over at you. That wasn’t just nothing, right? Honestly, this whole lab partners deal might be more pressing than you ever thought possible.

The only way to move on is to go through the next day, and the next. After that, however, you have biology again, and that means finding your place next to Bucky Barnes and pretending like your heart rate isn’t skyrocketing the second he smiles up at you, saying he’s glad to see you again. Your friend keeps stealing glances your way, eyes wide and thumbs raised in an expression of impressed awe.

As it turns out, your friend isn’t the only one to see something between you and Bucky. You make your way out of the bio room, unable to hide a smile, although your happy outlook disappears the second somebody blocks your path across campus. This somebody just happens to be Mandy Fleming, bottle blonde junior who thinks she owns the school, and her entourage of preening followers.

Mandy folds her arms over her chest, considering you. Her lip purses. Evidently she finds something lacking. “You know, I don’t think we’ve had a proper conversation in a while. We need to make a few things clear.” You force a smile, trying to step around her. “Can we do it later? I have places to be.” Mandy curls her lip. “I don’t wait. This can’t wait. See, you’ve developed the unfortunate habit of spending too much time around Bucky Barnes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “We’re lab partners. What, you want me to ignore him?” Mandy’s eyes narrow. “That would be preferable. Next class, you’re going to go up to the professor and tell him you want to switch partners. Make something up about wanting to be closer to the board or something, I’m sure he’ll believe it.” You can barely listen to her. “And why would I do that?” Mandy takes a step closer. “Bucky is mine, not yours. I’m going to need you to back off.”

You stare at her. “You want me to switch lab partners all because a boy you’re not even dating is sitting next to me?” Mandy’s head rears back. You’ve obviously struck a nerve. “Listen here, honey. This isn’t an issue about me, it’s an issue about you. What, did you really think Bucky would ever even give you the time of day? You’re a nobody, a nothing, somebody not even worth a fraction of his time. Honestly, I’m doing him a favor by getting rid of you. He doesn’t want to see you, not for a second.”

With every word, you can feel your confidence plummeting. Mandy notices this, a smirk burning even deeper into her lips. Sometimes, you swear she can smell fear just like an animal. “You’re worried because you know I’m right. You’re pathetic, really, and Bucky Barnes wants nothing to do with you.” Just as you feel like you want to go back to your dorm room and never see the light of day again, a voice rings out from behind you. It’s a voice you recognize instantly, and one that Mandy does too, as she shrinks back the second she hears it.

“You couldn’t be more wrong.” Bucky steps forward, taking a place next to you. Mandy forces a smile. “I, uh, don’t know what you’re talking about. Y/N and I are just having a little chat about homework. We had homework, right, a textbook reading and-” Bucky cuts her off coolly. “I heard every word. If you think I’d want to choose you over her, you’re wrong. She’s a hundred times the girl you’ll ever be.”

Mandy stammers, fishing around for words but coming up with nothing. It’s almost cathartic to watch. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, Y/N and I have somewhere to be. And if I hear you trying to talk to her like that again, believe me when I say that this won’t be the worst I’ll say to you.” Bucky offers you a hand like a proper gentleman, and you take it, letting him steer you away from Mandy and her followers, who are still gaping at your backs.

The second you’re out of earshot, Bucky turns to you, apologies and regret written all over his face. “I’m so sorry about that. It’s all my fault- she’s been trying to flirt with me all semester, and I finally gave up and rejected her, and now she’s taking it out on you. I wish none of this ever happened.” You manage to force a smile. “Trust me, it’s fine.”

Bucky looks at you, concern still lingering in his eyes. “Are you sure? I can talk to them again if you think they’ll bother you.” You laugh at that. “Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly alright.” Bucky smiles at that. “Well, if you are perfectly alright, I was wondering if you were busy this Saturday. I saw this new park that opened, and it looked really interesting, but if you’re busy or something we can totally do something else, or nothing at all, whatever you-”

You cut him off, unable to hide a smile at his rambling. “I think that sounds excellent. I’ll see you there?” Bucky’s face lights up. “I’ll see you there.” He gathers his courage one last time, then leans forward to kiss you. He flashes you one last perfect smile before disappearing around the corner, leaving you with a smile and the memory of his lips on yours. When you look up, you see scores of jealous girls staring at you, but for once, the attention doesn’t bother you. Why should it? You have Bucky at last, and he doesn’t want anyone but you.

marvel tag list: @mycosmicparadise

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dancingamongstdust · 3 years

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Old Habits (Warren Worthington x Reader)

So I was digging around in my old files and I found this from a few years ago. I’m sure I published it somewhere once but I have no idea where. Either way, the writing isn’t too bad so I thought some readers here may enjoy it.

Before, when you originally met Warren, you had never had an issue with reaching out and grabbing his wings if he tried to march away from you. It had become a habit.

There would be an argument over something inconsequential and both of you would scream and shout like children. Warren would realise that his temper was getting out of control and try to stalk away from the fight before it got out of control. You would snatch a fistful of his feathers or the edge of a wing; anything that was within range was ample gain. It never hurt him but he stopped moving due to the sensation. Then he would turn around and kiss you until your lips were bruised and you couldn’t breathe properly.

This time…

You had been eternally grateful to Charles Xavier for bringing Warren back despite all his previous actions and your heart belonged to whoever had saved his life. When you had seen him walking through that portal, you had sold yourself on the notion that you would never be seeing him again. A bitter reality without the white angel wings that you had spent hours wrapped in.

The fight had been inconsequential really. Something about his sulking and yelling at anybody who tried to get close to him.

But now you withdrew your hand as quickly as you reached out.

Warren still spun around to look, the metal feathers screeching against the walls as he did so. Instead of kissing you, his eyes fell on your bloody hand and he reached for it with tentative hands. “I…” his words died in his throat.

You met his eyes with a clouded expression and sighed. “Sorry,” you said. “I forgot…” Your eyes fell on the huge metal wings and you sighed. “I didn’t think that through. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Warren said. “No, you shouldn’t have had to think about it in first place.” Unlike the feathered version, these wings made a horrendous noise when they bristled and even he winced at the sound. “Just go and get somebody to look at that.” And he stormed back into his temporary room, slamming the door far too loudly behind him.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. Charles had approached you to see if you could possibly fix the situation and maybe convince Warren to relax a little more in the mansion. His end goal obviously being to offer the angelic mutant a permanent place to stay.

Stomach churning, you hurried down the stairs to the nearest mutant that could heal your hand or at least somebody who knew basic medical skills.

Two stitches and a little bit of healing later, you were sitting in your own room and staring down at your bandages. While you had been standing up there, it hadn’t hurt at all but now it was burning like fire. You rubbed it gently and sighed. Warren had always been self-sabotaging. At this point, shutting you out could almost be classified as a hobby of his.

So eventually – at an hour that any reasonable person would be asleep at – you climbed out of bed and marched over to the room to quiet your wailing mind. If you didn’t know Warren’s self-destructive tendencies you would have presumed it was too late.

But you had lived with the man before.

You didn’t bother knocking. You knew that Warren would have pretended he didn’t hear you. So you counted on him forgetting – or purposefully – not locking the door.

“I’m tired of this,” you said when Warren finally noticed you and removed the headphones that were blaring rock music so loudly that you could hear them from across the room. You walked over and sat on an untouched desk, watching the winged mutant carefully. “Every day, you make me sit and watch you turn all that anger and hatred inwardly and I can’t do anything about it. I feel useless when it comes to you. Like there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Help?” he scoffed. “Help what?”

“You.”

He rolled his eyes and sat up on the bed, those metal feathers screaming a symphony as they were dragged across the wall. “I don’t need your help,” he said. He glanced at your bandaged hand. “Look what happens when you try. I’m fine. They said that my feathered wings will grow back soon and then I’ll be able to get as far away from this fucking place as possible.”

“I want to stay.”

“Then stay.”

You gave a forced laugh. “And here I thought you knew me well enough to know that there isn’t a chance that you would leave without me following.”

Warren crossed his arms and his wings puffed up as he attempted to become more intimidating. It would work on most people. Not you. “Nobody likes codependent twits,” he grumbled. “But then again, it’s not my problem if you want to chase me around the country like some lost poodle. If you get killed, I don’t want anybody blaming it for me.”

“It’s not… alright, no, I’m not rising to that,” you said firmly. “No matter how often you insult me, I’m not going to leave and you know that by now. Warren, won’t you at least consider staying here? There are others who –“

“Joined forces with an ancient evil and attempted to bring about the end of the world because they were offered shiny wings then almost died and had to be saved by their enemy out of pity. Just so many of those assholes running around that I can barely even walk without seeing one.” His hair was falling into his face now but he didn’t seem interested in doing anything about it. “But they don’t count if they switched sides during the actual battle.”

“You were unconscious the majority of the battle.”

“Thank you for reminding me. I wasn’t aware.”

You sighed and reached out to move his hair away from his eyes. It said something that he didn’t move away despite the glare he was sending in your direction. “Wouldn’t you prefer to be able to rest for a little while until you got back onto your feet?” you asked. “I’ve been talking to some of the people here and they’re all friendly if you give them a chance.”

“I don’t see any weapons attached to your back that are constantly hurting people you actually care about,” he noted.

“My hand was my own fault,” you repeated. You stood up and moved closer, reaching the uninjured hand past his head and resting it gently on the metal of his feathers. “See? I’m being careful now and it’s not getting me hurt. If I had taken a few more seconds to think it through, I wouldn’t have grabbed your wing out of habit. But you said they’ll go back to being normal soon.”

“Apparently,” he said. “Some of them have fallen off but they’re meant to do that. What would you do if they stayed metal? You’d have to start finding your own beds instead of curling up next to me constantly. Something tells me you won’t find these wings ‘comforting’.”

A phrase you had always used when speaking about his wings and it hurt to hear him spit it with such bitterness in his tone. It had always been something genuine to you. “They probably won’t keep me as warm as the normal feathers,” you admitted. “But I don’t doubt that I could grow used to them and love them as much as I adored the originals.”

He scoffed. “Always a fucking optimist. Even when I have tattoos that probably will never fade etched into my face.”

“I’m not always an optimist,” you said. “When you disappeared into that cage fighting thing for months without telling me and then came back with your wing fried to a crisp, I was so worried that I thought I would vomit. I lost countless hours due to nightmares about waking up and finding you dead or missing again.”

“And then you did.”

“I was too late,” you said. “No matter what you said, I knew that your wings were making you distressed and I wanted to help but I didn’t know how. If I had figured out how to fix things sooner then there wouldn’t have been a reason for you to go with that asshole.”

Warren just glared at you and then flicked his bedside lamp off and lay down on his side. It used to hurt his wings when he slept like that but you were unsure that the metal felt anything. Either way, you lay your hand on his shoulder temporarily and then took the hint to leave the room. There was nothing else for you to say or do.

Almost a week passed where you only opened the door to throw random food and drink items at Warren where he was pretending to be asleep. Sometimes he would mumble something and other times he would continue to ignore you. You took the bandage off a few days later. It was something Warren undoubtedly noticed but he didn’t say anything until the day you opened the door to find everything strewn across the floor in such a state of disarray that you flinched.

“What’s the problem?” you asked.

Warren glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and muttered something about not having any shirts that weren’t torn to shreds by his new wings. Which later led to you going shopping and returning with a bunch of new shirts with cuts in the back for the new wings. It took you a while and he grumbled under his breath when you dumped them on the floor but you didn’t say anything.

The charade continued day in and day out but you weren’t deterred. You waited patiently for Warren with a well-learned routine. This had happened many times before. A waiting game that you had perfected over many years of worrying about the angelic mutant who held so much of your attention and your heart.

You walked through the door with a milkshake in hand when he was busy plucking the metal feathers off his wings. Silently, you placed it down and settled cross-legged behind him on the bed to help him peel off the shedding metal over the unreachable areas.

It came off easily and you happily spotted some of the soft, white feathers peeking out from beneath the metal. You ran your fingers happily over it and smiled. They would be returning soon.

“You’re going to need to preen these daily while they’re growing out,” you said. You didn’t expect an answer but you said it with the knowledge that you would be the one to do it. “Otherwise they’re going to be crooked and then you won’t be able to fly properly.”

Warren’s feathers fluttered slightly as he turned around to face you. They didn’t sound quite as horrible when they brushed against the wall now and there were fewer grooves than before. Deep scratch marks already tore up the bedframe and one of the bedside lamps had disappeared a week ago. “Just leave.”

“Alright. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Why do you bother?”

Your fingers brushed the doorknob and you shrugged. “It’s just force of habit now.”

#x-men #one shot #archangel #warren worthington x reader #warren worthington iii #x-men apocalypse

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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

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pushing up the dasies . peter parker

pairing: Peter Parker x Reader, Peter Parker x female reader

summary: Someone has been stealing Y\N's flowers, and she is determined to find who it is.

warnings: she\ her pronouns (don't know if this one's a warning), mention of the death of a loved person, graveyard

author note: I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. But please let me know if you see anthing that doesn’t seem right. I really have no idea if this is good or trash. I’m getting mixed signs. So, please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

As a comic book nerd, I personally love both Andrew and Tom's Spiderman. Just thought this story fit Andrew's more, but feel free to imagine Peter as your favorite!

masterlist

The first time you realized a few flowers were picked from your garden, you didn't think much into it. The kids around the neighborhood liked to play hide and seek around your garden. You thought; it should be Thompson's girl, she likes flowers. It wasn't something that never happened before. You would simply plant new ones, it was no big deal, you could never get angry at children. But after some time, you started to realize the pattern. Every month on the same day, you found a handful of your daisies gone upon returning from your part-time job. Mrs. Thompson swore her daughter would never do such a thing without asking, and after the third time, you were sure somebody was stealing your flowers. Maybe it was that gruff man across the street that never got along with people. But you had a feeling if he had to do anything with your flowers, it would only be blowing them up.

Peter always wondered whom the pretty flowers and house belong to. The post box just outside the garden said Y\L\N, and he had always imagined an old sweet woman lived in the white-painted house with a green door. And Peter hoped he didn't make the poor woman too sad with missing flowers. Boy, was he wrong. You weren't old, and you were furious and determined to find the person who stole your beautiful daisies.

Your friends always wondered why you liked living in such an old neighborhood. The house was one of the few things your mother left you after she died, along with the considerable amount of money in your bank account. You could always sell the house, find an apartment downtown, so you can be closer to school that's what your friends told you every time you had them over. But you loved the house. You loved that the house held so many memories of your childhood, especially your garden. Even though your mother was a busy woman, she had always made time for you and her flowers. At the age of six, growing flowers with your mother quickly became one of your favorite pastimes. That week you did what everyone would do, changed your shift with Mary Jane to catch the flower thief.

So, no, selling the house or letting strangers steal your lovely flowers was not one of the many choices.

Now, Peter Parker was many things, but not a thief. Well, it depended on what you would call stealing. Surely picking a few flowers from a random garden couldn't count as stealing. And God knows he wouldn't do it if he weren't penniless. Trying to survive college and paying for an apartment didn't leave him much. The money The Daily Bugle paid was shit. He had been selling photos for the damn newspaper since high school, but it was no use, Peter had to find a job that paid more than The Daily Bugle. And there was no way he was going to ask Aunt May for money, even though she would be happy to give him some. But that was another day's concern, for now, the only thing he needed to do was be quick. Because he knew if you found out that it was him who was stealing, sorry picking, your flowers he sure wouldn't be able to swing away this time.

Peter honestly felt guilty about your flowers, they were lovely. And he knew this was a safe neighborhood, so he had no way of paying you back with saving you. He had been visiting Gwen every month since her death. It was one of the few things he could keep up with after he graduated high school. Daisies were Gwen's favorite. Peter knew he could easily find another place to pick the flowers, but he believed that there was something magical about the garden. He felt so much love around the house. Maybe it was a silly thing, but Peter thought Gwen would have loved that garden.

Y\N had been sitting on her porch, hiding behind the dark blue armchair, actually too anxious to face the flower thief. You felt childish after some time. It was just a few daisies, right? There was no need to act like a crazy woman. As you were getting ready to go back inside, you saw him. He had an average height, brown messy hair. He was wearing a black t-shirt and an unbuttoned baby blue shirt with a greenish-brown jacket. Y\N's anger turned back the minute she saw him touch the flowers.

"You, flower thief!"

A moment before, Peter felt like his whole body was on edge as if bells were ringing in his brain. But he was already late to realize she had been waiting for him and there was no way to run, he wasn't wearing his suit. Where were the damn spider-senses when he needed them the most? So, he just stood there, speechless, his hand hanged above the daisies. She was pretty, as pretty as the flowers before him. Guilt heating his face, Peter couldn't help but stare at you with his eyes wide open like a dumbstruck idiot. He felt like his lunch was climbing its way back up.

You were now, standing few steps away from him. "You've been stealing my flowers for months!"

Peter held his hands up in defense. "Look, I can explain."

Y\N put her hands on her hips, one eyebrow raised, waiting for an explanation. Your heart beating like crazy. Even though it was still bright and you were in the middle of a road, he was a man. A man taller and despite looking skinny, stronger than you. But you hold your face as still as you could.

"Go on then."

Peter couldn't find the words to explain. What was he going to say? Sorry, I thought my dead girlfriend would love your flowers so, I've been stealing them, I hope you don't try to kill me. No fucking way. His mouth opened and closed few times, making you sigh. You realized the boy wasn't going to give you any answer. He was probably taking them to his girlfriend or boyfriend.

"Are they pretty?" you asked, dropping your hands. Peter, very confused, kept on staring at her. You rolled your eyes at how silly he was. "The person you're taking my flowers to." Something at the back of your mind hoped he would say they were for his mother. Now that you were closer you could see the sweet hazel color of his eyes.

"Um-" His hand went up, scratching his neck. "She is."

She was.

He shuffled through his pants pockets. "I have a photo-"

"No." You stopped him. "I want to see if she is pretty enough for my daisies."

"What?" Peter tried to grasp his head around the idea.

"I want to see her and tell her that her boyfriend is a thief. C'mon."

"I don't think-" Peter was getting anxious, now. How was he supposed to tell you that her girlfriend was dead?

"Of course you don't think." You started walking. "C'mon, now. Take the flowers."

Peter didn't know what to do so he went with it. What could go wrong, right?

"I'm sorry," Peter said after some time. "I have no excuse for what I did."

His head hung low, watching his steps as he walked. He knew he would stutter if he looked at your face. Peter had a habit of getting tongue-tied around pretty girls. And, well, you were the prettiest girl he had ever seen. Mind you, he wasn't even thinking about Gwen anymore, which made him feel kinda guilty.

"It's okay." You had your hands in the pockets of your jacket. "My life's been boring lately. You were the only exciting thing, I guess."

"I'm sure you have more exciting things than me." Peter still didn't look at you but you could see him smiling.

"It's Y\N, by the way." You kept your eyes on him. "If you wanted to know the name of a woman you constantly robbed."

He laughed. "Peter, Peter Parker." His eyes finally met yours. It was ridiculous, how easy it was to just look at his face and feel safe even though he was a stranger. His smile grew even more. It was almost contagious, his smile. He had something about him that made you wanted to scream and purr like a cat at the same time. You felt yourself getting overwhelmed, he was making you weak at the knees. So, you pulled your eyes away from him.

Pull yourself together, woman! He has a girlfriend.

You were too distracted to realize where was Peter taking you until you arrived. It was the same route you took whenever you felt like talking to your mother. Peter and you were standing just outside of the graveyard. Your head whipped around, turning to Peter. He had a soft smile on his face.

"Peter, I-"

"It's okay."

"No, It's not okay." You took a deep breath, pressing your palms into your eyes. "I'm such a dick."

"No, you were just mad at me."

You slouched your shoulder, didn't know what to say. What would even one say in this situation?

"C'mon." Peter's warm hand was gently holding your arm, now. "Let's go see her."

You didn't talk until you arrived at the tombstone. Peter put the flowers in front of it.

"Daisies were her favorite." He had a sweet look on his face, he put his hands back into his pockets.

"They were my mother's favorite, too." You murmured, but Peter could hear you perfectly. "I think that's why I overreacted you picking the flowers. I wasn't thinking."

"Oh, It's not stealing anymore, then?" He teased. "It's okay, honestly. She would've liked you. You have that fire in you like you could make the world better just with a gesture of your hand. She liked that kind of people, that can light the room with their smile."

"I think I would've liked her, too." You said, your eyes on the tombstone.

Gwen Stacy.

Her name was familiar to you. You didn't know where, but you were sure you had heard before. Still, you didn't ask Peter anything, assumed he wouldn't be comfortable talking about it. You didn't say anything until you were out of the graveyard. You knew you would come back tomorrow to see your mother, but with Gwen on your mind.

The more you looked at his face the more you could see him. Peter wore his heart on his sleeve, he was easy to read. "You blame yourself." You said, nodding your head slowly. You smiled after seeing the face he made. "It's okay, I know the feeling."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah."

Neither of you talked for a long time. Peter could tell you weren't ready to talk about it. He knew it wasn't easy to open up, especially to a stranger. It'd been years since he talked about Gwen, so, he knew the feeling, too.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. It was a message from Mary Jane. "Just arrived home, you owe me."

"That's it!" You exclaimed, remembering your talk with Mary Jane. "That's how I knew her name!"

Peter, looking very confused, asked you. "What?"

"Gwen, her name was very familiar." Pocketing your phone again. "I have a friend, Mary Jane, who went to the same high school with Gwen. I've seen her in the yearbook. That's where I recognized her name."

"You know MJ?"

"Oh, yeah," you laughed. "We met in Brooklyn, probably four years ago. I think it was very late, some guy was trying to get her number even though she said no, like five times. And I hadn't had the best day of my life. So, I punched the guy and told him to leave her alone. We have been friends ever since."

Peter was amazed. He didn't know how much cooler you could get.

"You know her, too?"

"Yeah, We've been friends for a long time. My aunt kinda tried to set us up."

You laughed. Peter and Mary Jane seemed like two opposite characters. You would never imagine them together. But again, maybe Peter's pretty face was affecting your judgment. You didn't know. He made your mind foggy. At last, you found yourselves at your front yard again. Your eyes wandered over the empty spots that daisies left.

"Would you like to get a coffee sometime?" Peter was leaning against white fences that surrounded your garden. He had that sweet smile on his face again. "So I can pay you back for daisies."

You bit your lips to stop yourself from smiling so much. "Gwen was pretty enough for them. You can have some once a month when I'm not looking." Peter was feeling like you were about to turn him down. Both of you knew this wasn't really about the damn flowers. But again, Peter was every so often wrong about these kinds of things. "But you know, maybe not Saturdays. I'm usually free for a cup of coffee on Saturdays." Peter was ready to feed himself with only pasta for a week if it meant he would get to see you again.

You could visibly see Peter's eyes liting up. "Just one cup?"

You shrugged. "Tea is fine, too."

"I didn't know MJ had friends like you." He said, intensely watching your every move.

"Like me?" You were so sure something bad was coming, he was simply too good to be true.

"You know, this beautiful. If I had known, I would have visited her more."

"Wow, you are hiding a monster under that pretty face, don't you?"

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x female reader #pter parker x f!reader #marvel #peter parker imagine #tom holland #andrew garfield #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman imagine

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jisungsmochi · 3 years

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traitor - lee jeno

starting my SOUR series !! based on songs by olivia rodrigo, here is the first installment.

player (?) jeno x female reader // friends to lovers but then goes all downhill from there

word count: 7.1k

summary: “god i wish i had thought this through, before i went and fell inlove with you”

you were more than aware of jeno’s inability to keep it in his pants, but after a reckless one night stand, you finally understood what it was like to be on the receiving end. but when jeno slips back into his old habits, will you have the heart to move on? i mean how could you get over somebody you didn’t even date...

a/n: sorry for any mistakes as usual oop

tagging bestie: @skrtbabe <3

Brown guilty eyes, and

Little white lies, yeah

I played dumb, but I always knew

“god what did you do now?” you shook your head at the raven haired boy with a blank expression. he shrugged his shoulders, eyebrows perking up,

“i just decided we were better off as friends” ah yes, lee jeno’s code for ‘she was just a fling, i couldn’t care less’. you only nodded, how else were you supposed to respond? you weren’t exactly his closest friend, but he considered you enough of a friend due to your closeness to jaemin.

you knew that he was a player, finding some sort of entertainment, getting girls to fall for him. you couldn’t really blame them, he was strikingly handsome and had his way with words. the only reason he hadn’t tried anything on you yet was because you didn’t exactly “fit his type”. also, jaemin pleaded him not to, in order to avoid any awkward situations within your friendship. jeno was occasionally playful with you, but you viewed it more of a sister-brother type thing, rather than him trying to flirt.

jaemin has introduced you to jeno near the end of high school. the three of you attended plenty of parties together ( well as many as you could before college started ). your first semester of college consisted of intense study sessions with jaemin in the library, jeno occasionally tagging along. you were both sure he was failing his classes but he didn’t seem to care much. his main focus consisting of getting wasted at as many frat parties he could.

finals were done and dusted so after your last exam, you got ready for some random frat party being held tonight. you were meeting up with jaemin prior,

“time to party or what?” you gleamed at your best friend, jumping onto his bed as he curled into a ball. you frowned at the sight,

“i’m not feeling so good, you should go without me! go with jeno” jaemin groaned, his stomach pains getting the best of him.

“oh damn, want me to keep you company tonight instead?” you sat next to him, forcing him to sit up with you.

“no no, i’m probably going to take some meds and then knock out for the rest of the night. just go with jeno, it won’t be so bad! i’ll tell him to take care of you” jaemin assured, making sure you were on board. you let out a soft sigh,

“it’s so awkward between jeno and i, right? does he even like me, as a friend?” you lay your head on jaemin’s shoulder, feeling him softly chuckle at your words.

“jeno just thinks you’re really sweet. like you have this innocence to you. he doesn’t wanna be a bad influence or anything, that’s all” you just nod, that was somewhat comforting to know. before you could respond, there was a knock on jaemin’s door. the one and only, lee jeno was standing there in all this glory.

“yeah y/n, i don’t wanna be a bad influence” he smirked as he entered the room. you felt slightly embarrassed he had eavesdropped on the conversation but jaemin decided to interject.

“take her to the party tonight, she needs to have some fun” jaemin shoved you towards jeno, causing you to bump into

his shoulder. he just smirked, nodding along to his friend’s wishes.

“come on, i’ll show you a good time” jeno practically dragged you out of the room. his grip on your wrist was quite firm, he didn’t let go until you both reached his car. jeno opened the passenger side door for you, gesturing for you to enter. jeno made his way to the driver’s side, a constant grin on his face.

“surprised to see you so dressed up” he started the car. you were taken back at first, but this was just part of your usual banter.

“so glad you noticed, i did this all for you” you grinned, feeling quite flushed in the face. jeno just let out a soft chuckle, finding your confidence amusing.

“you’re not drinking tonight?” you questioned, looking over to him.

“nah, kinda trying to cut out alcohol from my diet if i wanna have a healthy liver you know?” his eyes flicked towards you, watching as you started fixing your makeup using your phone camera.

“but don’t worry sweetheart, i’ll take good care of you so jaemin doesn’t beat my ass. don’t get too wasted or you might do something you regret” jeno warned but his words went in one ear and out the other. you knew he was going to ditch you midway through, probably off with another one of his hookups. you didn’t need a babysitter, you were perfectly capable to party on your own.

long story short, you got bored after a few drinks, now sitting on a swinging hammock on the porch of the house. as expected, jeno had left your side a while ago, off to greet his own friends. you were scrolling on your phone, thinking of texting jaemin about how he wasn’t missing out on much. but you were interrupted when jeno sat down next to you.

“bored already?” he snuggled a little too close to comfort, softly swinging the both of you in the hammock.

“you could say that” you shrugged, switching off your phone, giving him all your attention. he looked really handsome in this light, strands of his hair sticking in random places, a slight flush to his cheeks due to the cold.

“wanna get out of here then? i’ll take you home” he stood up, offering you his hand.

“wow you’re being such a gentleman tonight” you snickered, taking his hand in yours as you strolled to his car.

“i’ll always be a gentleman for you”

why did he keep saying these things?

the ride to your apartment wasn’t as awkward as you initially thought. jeno insisted you play some music, his fingers lingering near your knee, tapping ever so softly on the surface of your skin. you held your breath at the touch, he was just being a good friend...right?

as jeno pulled up to your apartment building, part of you didn’t want the night to end. he looked over at you with his glorious brown eyes and you were mesmerised. jeno noticed the way you were looking at him, feeling quite giddy with himself. he had always thought you were pretty, in a cute, dorky way. but tonight, you looked electrifying. he was in awe.

as you looked into his eyes, you felt yourself lean closer to him. jeno couldn’t hide his grin, leaning to meet you in the middle.

“may i kiss you?” you asked nervously, which only added to how adorable jeno found you. his hand met your cheek, softly stroking your skin before nodding,

“don’t even need to ask me, love” he quickly pressed his lips onto yours, giving you instant butterflies.

it finally hit you, holy shit, you were kissing lee jeno right now.

you allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, deepening the kiss. it felt like his lips were meant for yours, in a non-cliche way. he was so gentle, yet so passionate with you. he pulled away, leaving you feeling empty inside.

“how far do you wanna go tonight?” that question had you stunned. you weren’t the type for one night stands, but this was jeno. it was like second nature to him. you almost didn’t even have to think twice, you just needed his lips on yours again.

“all the way” you bit your lip anxiously, awaiting his response. jeno’s eyes widened, taken aback by your new found confidence.

“say less, but we should probably get into bed or something” he chuckled, giving you a warm feeling in your stomach. you could practically hear jaemin’s warnings going off like a siren in your head. but when jeno pulled you into your apartment, gently placing you on the bed, lips constantly attached to yours, you drowned out any other thoughts that were occupying your mind.

college was all about new experiences. so naturally, having a random hookup with an attractive guy would be on the list. just for once, you wanted to know what it was like to hookup with lee jeno, even if you were just another number to him.

the very next morning, your eyes fluttered open, taking a few moments to fully immerse yourself in the new day ahead. your gaze finally drags over to the sleepy boy next to you. you couldn’t help but admire his side profile, especially his plump lips.

“stop staring, you’re making me shy” he suddenly grumbled, pulling you closer to him, nuzzling his face in your chest. you immediately froze, of course he was awake.

“last night was fun” he mumbled into your skin, softly smirking to himself. you just sighed, he wasn’t wrong per se, you just weren’t sure what this meant for your friendship.

“y-yeah, it was” was all you managed to say, jeno felt there was something off, moving his head to face you. he pulled your chin to meet his face, placing a gently kiss to your lips.

“did you like it?” you knew he was just being cocky right now, but you couldn’t help but engage in his banter.

“nope, worst hookup of my life!” you exaggerated before burying your face into his chest. he shook his head playfully, stroking your hair as you wrapped your arms around his torso.

“what will happen once jaemin finds out?” jeno started to worry, the last thing he needed was jaemin beating his ass for hooking up with his best friend.

“he’ll be mad for like five seconds and probably scold you too” jeno raised his eyebrows, preparing himself for the confrontation.

“there isn’t much he can do about it though” he placed another gentle kiss to your forehead, continuing to stroke your hair.

“let’s do something today, just you and me. you can pick what we do” jeno suddenly offered, causing you to perk up and sit against the headboard.

“well i need to do some grocery shopping, and some chores around the place, it’s kinda messy if you haven’t noticed. but that’s gonna be so boring-“

“i’ll keep you company”

“come again?”

“i’ll help you go shopping and clean, it’s no biggie” jeno smiled softly at you, making your knees go weak. you hoped he wasn’t just been nice because you had slept together...

your trip to the grocery store was surprisingly fun. jeno pushed the cart as you mentally ticked off your list of items to buy. he would make small conversation, giving his opinion on which brands were better. he always made sure to walk very close to you, despite pushing the cart. it was like he never left your side the entire trip. and once you got back to your apartment, jeno offered to carry all the bags, making you flustered. he didn’t have to be so...nice?

“you can just leave the bags on the bench, i’ll unpack” you smiled at him, gently tapping his back. jeno nodded, quickly pulling you by the waist, your breath hitched as he placed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll make some brunch” he smiled softly, pulling away, starting to heat up a pan on the stove. you were still in shock by his display of affection. is this what he did with all his hookups?

you didn’t have the heart to tell jeno to go home, but he seemed to have understood that he had overstayed his welcome.

“i should probably get going, you know, to

shower and all” he had a smug look on his face that you couldn’t help but giggle at. you led him to the door, the sun having just set.

“i’ll see you around i guess” you tried to make this send off as normal as possible, but jeno had other plans.

“no goodbye kiss?”

“huh”

“ah i see, you’re just shy, see you around y/n” he pulled you in for a side hug, waving softly as he made his way out the door. this had to be a one time thing.

it had been over a week since you had last seen jeno. and naturally you filled jaemin in on all the events of that night. to say he was shocked as an understatement,

“i cant believe YOU slept with HIM. you’re gorgeous, the prettiest best friend ever, but really? jeno?” jaemin shook his head. you weren’t sure if he was disappointedly or just surprised.

“i-i know. it didn’t mean to play out that way. he’s just really charming. and he’s kind of a gentleman” you couldn’t help but feel some heat rise to your cheeks. jaemin picked up immediately, of course you were already smitten.

“i say this in the most loving way possible, don’t get too involved with him. yeah you guys hooked up, but he is not the relationship type. at all. i don’t want to see you hurt” jaemin pulled you to his side as you both sat with your backs against the headboard of your bed.

“yeah, i’ll be careful” you say out loud...‘or atleast i’ll try to be’ you thought to yourself. this was going to be harder than you anticipated.

seeing jeno around campus was bound to happen. you assumed he would just shoot you a wave or a head nod to greet you but you were wrong. he would offer to walk with you to your classes, even hold your bag for you. he’d even ask if you wanted to go off campus to have lunch. you didn’t exactly reject any of these offers, but you couldn’t help but feel a little uneasy. did he suddenly like you? or is he just trying to not make things awkward between you both? whatever it was, it wasn’t helping your growing crush on the dark haired heartthrob. you were in trouble.

one day, jeno had invited himself over to prepare for his upcoming economics quiz. you tried your best to help him study, but then you remembered...lee jeno doesn’t ‘study’, he winged almost every exam and barely passed. C’s get degrees (atleast that was his mindset).

“i’m tired, let’s pick this up again tomorrow” jeno yawned, pushing his textbook to the side as he sprawled his whole body onto your bedroom floor. you were seated on your bed, looking down at the hopeless boy.

“are you sure? we only have one more set of practice questions to go through” you pout, actually finding enjoyment helping him study. jeno shook his head profusely,

“no i’d rather hang out with you” he jumped onto your bed, landing right next to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“i mean, if that’s okay with you” you just nodded, feeling yourself relax in his embrace. jeno gently pulled you down so you were both laying down, facing eachother.

your eyes flickered over his features, his structured nose and jaw, his glimmering eyes and his soft lips. your fingers made their way to graze over his lips, causing him to pout.

“you’re so cute” he mumbled. you moved your hand to hide your face, feeling more flustered than ever.

“why are you getting all shy with me now? did you forget that we had sex? or was that just a really good dream?” he continued to tease, poking at your sides, causing you to let out a loud laugh. you immediately placed your hand over your mouth, feeling embarrassed by the sound that had just left it. jeno raised an eyebrow at you, slightly frowning.

“hey i like making you laugh, so i expect to hear it!”

“s-sorry, i really don’t know why i’m being like this. i-i just, it’s all catching me off guard you know?” you sighed, allowing jeno’s fingers to intertwine with yours.

“it’s alright, i find it endearing” he smiled as he started stroking your hair with his free hand.

“c-can you spend the night?” you suddenly asked, feeling his hand stop in your hair.

“i was hoping you’d ask me that” jeno ducked his head to press his lips against yours. you didn’t want to admit how much you had missed that feeling. but something about the way he kissed you, washed all your cares away. even if there wasn’t any romance behind it, it still felt electrifying.

this was how most nights were spent with jeno. some light studying, some making out, dinner, cuddling, and then more making out before you fell asleep. it was a constant cycle that you didn’t want to stop. he would always compliment you, whether it was your hair or your makeup or your outfit. practically anything he thought you should be praised for, he would compliment you. his words held greater meaning to you than they did to him. you could feel yourself getting flustered each time you received a compliment, while jeno seemed nonchalant. maybe that was just how he was.

one night, jeno decides to stay over, claiming that his heater was broken at his apartment and your bed was warm. but it was code for ‘let’s hook up and fall asleep in eachother’s arms again’. you laid beside him, wrapped tightly in your blanket as jeno pressed soft kisses on your forehead. you started tracing random figures on his chest as he quietly hummed random tunes to get you to sleep. but something was keeping you awake. jeno was hard to read, he never truly expressed his honest feelings towards people. maybe that was just his way of not having to cope with drama. but the constant push and pull between you two had caused many sleepless nights and constant doubt for you. confessing to jeno never crossed your mind prior, but it was the only thing occupying it right now. if you kept it to yourself any longer, you’d probably explode.

you had noticed that jeno’s attendance at frat parties had declined, opting to either hanging out with you or jaemin. he had already quit drinking, not finding much enjoyment anymore. he had also been trying to get above a C average in his classes. you’d say something switched in him, so could it be possible that he may like you too?

“what’s on your mind, pretty girl?” jeno suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you pull your fingers from his chest.

“nothing” you whispered flatly, but jeno was not convinced.

“come on, something is going on in that

pretty little head of yours, i can see it on your face” he smirked.

“what do you mean?”

“you have this cute frowning face whenever you’re over thinking” you suddenly changed your expression, pulling

yourself to side up as he remained still. you let out a deep sigh, knowing that your next words will change everything.

“i think i like you”

you felt jeno stiffen under the covers, his demeanour suddenly becoming cold. of course you had expected this type of reaction, but seeing it right infront of you, made you want to cry.

“y/n, i don’t think you mean that”

your breath hitched, your throat felt tight.

“i mean, i just- i think you’re amazing. of course i do. but i don’t do relationships. i don’t do feelings or love and that bullshit. atleast not right now, i don’t think i can handle it” each of his words felt like a stab through the heart. how did you misjudge this so badly?

“i fucked things up, didn’t i?” jeno looked you in the eyes sympathetically. of course he felt pity for you.

“no you didn’t. i’m still going to be around. i just can’t be the guy for you” why did you have to go and make things so complicated?

jeno senses you were still overthinking, he smoothed bits of hair from your face, gently tucking them behind your ear.

“don’t frown, pretty girl. i’m not going anywhere” he pulled you closer to him, making you lay down, face to face with him. you wanted to avoid looking into his eyes but he maintained the intense contact with you.

“i’m tired” was all you could think of saying. jeno just nodded,

“rest well” he pulled you into just chest, softly stroking your hair as you closed your eyes. you felt a singular tear stream down your face, landing on jeno’s forearm. he sighed, knowing he hurt you. but he was selfish, he just couldn’t let you go. he wouldn’t let you go.

You talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

jeno hadn’t been around lately. it was probably for the best, you guessed he just didn’t want you to get attached.

you were walking to your final class of the day, passing by multiple students rushing off in different directions. you were careful not to bump into anything or anyone, but you had the worst luck, feeling yourself slam into a firm figure. your eyes focused on the boy infront of you.

“jeno” your eyes lit up unknowingly, as he greeted you with a smile.

“oh hey, careful there” he helped you remain stable, placing his hand on your shoulder.

“it’s been a while, i was thinking you could come over tonight and we cou-“

“there you are! been looking everywhere for you!” you watched as an unfamiliar girl came up to jeno, leaning into his side. her gaze waved over you, a slight scowl forming.

“y-yeah i’m just talking to a friend, uh this is karina” he introduces to you. what the hell was this? a new girl already?

“i’m y/n, jeno may have mentioned me before” you kindly smile, or atleast you tried your best to.

“oh he’s never mentioned your name, but nice to meet you” she looked over to the boy next to her, “jeno, can you walk me to my class? i’m still kinda lost” she frowned. jeno just nodded in compliance, leading her through the hallway as he sent you a small wave. so this was how it was gonna be.

“i mean, who the hell is she? how does she just waltz up in here and suddenly have jeno’s attention like that?” you frustratedly rant to jaemin, who was innocently eating his lunch as you approached him. he practically saw smoke coming out of your ears from how annoyed you were. he had never seen you like this before,

“hey, back track. explain properly” jaemin sighs, pulling you to sit down next to him as he continued eating. you finally got a hold of yourself, taking a few deep breaths,

“her name is karina or something, she’s suddenly hanging around jeno now. and he’s been avoiding me lately” jaemin’s eyes widened slightly, sirens going off in your mind.

“what do you know that i don’t?”

“it’s not my place to say” you scoff,

“not your place? since when have we kept secrets from eachother. i admitted to you that i’ve been having sex with jeno yet you can’t tell me this thing?” jaemin knew you were partially right, but he didn’t want to crush your spirit more than it already was.

“fine, karina was jeno’s first girlfriend. like first love type bullshit. he never really got over her, even when she moved away. i guess she’s back for good” your heart started to ache. gosh, this stupid infatuation with jeno was getting out of control.

“you think he still loves her?” jaemin looked at you with solemn eyes,

“i don’t know, he doesn’t really talk about her much. if anything, i sort of want him to choose you. i think you’re good for him, even if he doesn’t see it yet” you took this as jaemin just trying to cheer you up, you didn’t believe a single word he said. how well did you really know jeno? he had never mentioned karina to you before, nor that she was his first love. i mean, why would he? you were barely friends...right?

And ain't it funny how you ran to her 

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

jeno was at your apartment once again, his legs dangling over yours as you both typed on your laptops. your mind was trying it’s hardest to focus on your assignment that was due in less than five hours, but you were too distracted by jeno’s presence. it wasn’t unusual for him to hang out with you, but you felt slightly uncomfortable, knowing he had also been hanging out with karina more often. maybe you were just being paranoid, but how could you not be?

“quit staring and finish your work” jeno poked you playfully, shutting the lid of his laptop before moving to lay next to you. he leant against your shoulder, making your heart flutter.

“i-i am. why would i want to look at your gross face anyway?”

“stop denying it” he just snuggled closer to you. of course you couldn’t deny it. before you could respond, jeno’s phone started ringing. he quickly jumped out of your bed, hoping you hadn’t seen the caller ID. but you did. it was the one person you were hoping he had stopped talking to.

“sorry about that, it was uh just jaemin” jeno walked back into your room, acting as if nothing happened. you pierced your eyes at him, was he really going to lie straight to your face?

“i know it was karina. you don’t have to hide it from me” you shrug, pretending to type on your laptop.

“o-oh uh sorry. we’re just friends, you know. incase you were worried” was he being for real?

“why would i be worried? just because i confessed to you doesn’t mean you’re entitled to like me back. if you wanna see her then go see her, don’t use me liking you as an excuse” you felt pure frustration take over your body. you had never experienced this feeling before, even jeno was shocked.

“it’s not like that, i swear. i don’t want stuff between us to...end” jeno moved closer to you, placing his hand to your cheek, gently stroking the skin. there he goes again. these small gestures had you swooning, you just couldn’t help it.

you scrunched your nose at the contact, causing jeno to smile softly.

“so cute” he tapped your nose before engulfing you in his embrace. your assignment was long forgotten once he started kissing you. this was all too overwhelming emotionally, but physically, this felt just right.

just when things were beginning to feel normal again, jaemin had a few words for jeno.

“you can’t keep playing her, it’s time to come clean”

“give me time, y/n’s sensitive, i don’t wanna hurt her too bad” jaemin rolled his eyes.

“you’re being a real dick about this. if you have feelings for karina, end it with y/n now, or else i’ll tell her myself” jeno grabbed his arm, pleading him to hear him out.

“please don’t. promise me you won’t. i know it’s going to hurt her, but i want to do it on my own” jaemin wanted nothing more but to call you right now and have jeno confess over the phone. but he knew you deserved to hear it from jeno in person. all that the two boys could think about was how crushed you’d be after hearing the truth. but the truth will always come out one way or another.

y/n: hey jeno, i’m officially assignment free! come over and hang tonight :))

jeno: hey sorry, hella swamped with a group assignment at the moment. will make it up to you tomorrow!

you nodded to yourself after reading his message. you were proud of him for working so hard in his studies nowadays, it really seemed like he was improving. you opted to spend a night to yourself, switching on the television and eating an excessive amount of snacks from your kitchen cabinet. as usual, you were on instagram, wondering what others were up to now that most assignments were done and dusted. lee donghyuck had the most wild and sometimes, disturbing, instagram stories but you were always curious as to what he was up to. but this time you regretted it greatly. seeing a video of jeno making out with karina against the wall shattered you. you immediately locked your phone, switching the tv off completely. your body felt numb, why weren’t you reacting? why weren’t you crying? or even mad? how could you be mad...you weren’t even dating him. how pathetic of you to believe he would be loyal after practically rejecting you. you felt like a fool for falling for him. there was no way he could sweet talk his way out of this. the pain was too much for you to bare, resulting in you deciding to take a social media detox...well a detox from everyone really. you became more sheltered and isolated than ever. it was just too good to be true.

You betrayed me

And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah

You talked to her when we were together

Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter

“y/n, honey, you need to come out and eat okay?” you regretted giving jaemin a spare key to your apartment. he would enter as he wished, cooking you a warm meal before sitting outside your bedroom door as he begged for you to come out. you hated making him worry like this but you physically couldn’t get yourself to leave your bed. the same bed you and jeno had slept in together many times. you swore you could still smell traces of his scent on the pillow sheets.

“please just go home, jae” you groaned.

“no, i’m your friend and i need to see that you’ve atleast showered and taken care of yourself” his words made you want to cry. he cared for you so much, but he wasn’t the one you wanted to hear these things from. for the first time in what felt like weeks, you stood up from your bed and shuffled towards the door. you turned the door knob slowly, gaining jaemin’s attention. he immediately stood up, eyes scanning over your state.

“oh honey” he pulled you into his chest, gently stroking your hair.

“has he said anything?” you manage to murmur, catching jaemin off guard.

“n-no. atleast not to me. i’m sorry”

“why the hell are you sorry? he should be sorry. he should be grovelling to me to forgive him. but now he’s off, with some other girl. like i never meant a damn thing to him” you scoffed, pushing past jaemin as he trailed behind you with the tray of your now, cold, meal. you sat down on your couch, wrapping yourself in a small blanket.

“do you think he liked her this whole time and just didn’t tell me?” jaemin’s eyes shifted from left to right, which he only did when he withheld information.

“y-you knew?” he slowly nodded, the guilt eating him up inside.

“i wanted to tell you, i promise. but he insisted that he would let you down in person” jaemin tried to explain. you couldn’t even be mad at him. it must have been so obvious that jeno was into karina the whole time. you were just another name to his list. nothing more.

“am i pathetic for still liking him?” jaemin let out a sigh, unsure of how to answer. but that reaction was a good enough indication that you were indeed pathetic, for wanting a guy that didn’t want you. lee jeno was a traitor.

another night was spent alone. you were simply catching up on your usual shows, using it as a distraction from the pouring rain. what you didn’t expect was a series of loud knocks on your front door. who the hell wanted to visit you in the early hours of the morning? you proceeded with caution, twisting the door knob, allowing the door to slowly swing open. your eyes met those of the boy who broke you. you wanted nothing more than to shut the door right in his face, but he stopped you before you could even move.

“i-we need to talk” he slurred his words. he seemed drunk, but you weren’t fully sure. you could have sworn he quit drinking months ago, but the sight infront of you was telling you otherwise. jeno suddenly slumped towards you, his weak figure now latching onto you. you quickly shut the door, dragging him to your couch.

“i cant believe you’ve been drinking again” you felt disappointed. he was doing so well.

“couldn’t help myself, life is shitty. i lost you, karina and i are fighting. jaemin is giving me the cold shoulder. oh and i failed my last assignment, guess i can’t even finish the year” you had never seen him so defeated like this, you started feeling pity for him.

“but that’s no reason for you to drink yourself to this state. i’m really disappointed in you. i know you can do better” you sighed before rushing to your kitchen, grabbing him a bottle of water. jeno took slow sips from the bottle, eyes avoiding yours. there was still one question lingering in your mind,

“why are you even at my apartment? don’t you have your own?” you didn’t want to come off as rude but jeno couldn’t deny he felt a pang of guilt in his chest.

“i-i don’t know. i just feel comfort whenever i’m here. y-you gave me comfort. and i messed it all up” you felt tears begin to swell in your own eyes. why was he saying these things now? the timing was terrible.

“you’re babbling nonsense. just go to sleep, i want you gone in the morning” you grab him an extra blanket and pillow, watching as he slowly started drifting to sleep. you weren’t sure if he really meant the things he was saying, but you’d rather keep it that way. you didn’t need any more reasons to hold onto jeno. this was just a one time thing, you weren’t completely heartless. this was the night you saw jeno at his worst, and if you were being honest, you couldn’t be with him like this. you now knew, that you deserved better than lee jeno.

as expected, he was gone by the time you woke up, leaving you a small note,

“thankyou for everything”

you quickly scrunched the piece of paper, tossing it into the bin. you felt slightly relieved, this was a sign that you were finally starting to get over him.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

“hey so there’s gonna be a bonfire tonight, wanna come with me?”

“i don’t know, jaemin. not really up for hanging in big crowds at the moment” jaemin frowned, wanting nothing more than to see his friend happy again.

”i’ll be next to you the entire night, if that gives you more ease” he pleaded with his big eyes, rubbing his shoulder against yours. you eventually gave in, wanting nothing more than for him to stop giving you those creepy eyes. maybe something good will come from the bonfire.

you spoke too soon, the moment jeno and karina showed up, it was like somebody was impaling you with a stake to the heart. you physically couldn’t move, eyes avoiding having to meet those of jeno’s. you felt someone’s eyes on you, but refused to look up from your feet which were buried in the sand. soon enough, you felt the gaze escape, along with the two people you wanted to avoid the most. jaemin awkwardly coughed,

“this is going to be harder than i thought” you sighed, causing jaemin to press his lips together in a tight line.

“i know, but it’s not the end of the world” he shrugged, pulling you closer to him as you both soaked up the heat from the fire. you hated how jeno was showing her off like his new trophy. he constantly had his arm around her, laughing with his friends loudly, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. it made you sick.

your mind drifted to the conversations where jeno insisted he was not the ‘relationship type’. you remembered how he avoided your confession, how he only wanted your company when he felt alone. how he always interrupted you with a kiss when you would ask about his feelings. it all felt like some sort of sick joke to you. if you knew jeno the way you thought you did, there was no way he could fall inlove so quickly.

but you knew that he was inlove, or atleast falling inlove, because he looked at her the way you used to look at him. you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, you got played. plain and simple. lee jeno was never meant to be a permanent figure in your life, he was a lesson to be learnt. you had to let him go, no matter how much it hurt, you knew it would be for the best.

it was finally summer break, instant weight lifting from your shoulders as you handed in your final paper. although this year had its ups and downs, you were beyond proud of how you managed to stay on top of your school work, and shove any thoughts regarding jeno, from your mind. it had been radio silence from

his end, not having reached out to you in weeks, until some of your classmates invited you to some drinks at a local club. you couldn’t pass on a night to finally let loose, so you gleefully accepted their offer. it was also nice way of making new friends for the following year to come.

“hot damn, who the hell is that?” your newest friend, minjeong, swooned. you shifted your eyes to the figure in question. jeno stood there in all his glory, leather jacket hung loosely on his shoulders as he greeted your classmates one by one. he was slowly making his way to you and minjeong, you wanting nothing more than to rush to the bathroom. but he definitely would have seen you,

“long time no see” he grinned, taking a seat on the bar stool next to you. minjeong noticed that you were beginning to feel uncomfortable. she tapped your arm gently, asking with one simple gaze if you needed her with you. you shook your head in response, this was something you needed to sort out, once and for all.

“it has been a while” you sighed, turning to face the boy who tore you to pieces. jeno stiffened at your tone, part of his heart aching to hear you speak to him in such way.

“how have things been? i-i kinda miss hanging out together-“

“are you serious right now?” you practically scoffed, taking a large gulp from your drink. you needed some liquid courage for the speech you were about to give.

“who do you think you are to come up here and act like everything is all good between us? i know that jaemin has told you how hurt i was over you, gosh, it was probably one of the most painful heartbreaks i’ve ever experienced. can i even call it that? a heartbreak? i mean, we never dated so technically we never even broke up” jeno slowly gulped at your words, hoping no one else was eavesdropping on your conversation. but he allowed you continue,

“we hooked up, i confessed, and it all went to shit. once something new and shiny came by, i was old news. i really thought we were going to be something. how naive i was to even believe that someone like you could be with someone like me. i guess you didn’t cheat, but you’re still a traitor, lee jeno. and i hope you never forget it” you could barely look at him, feeling hot tears fill your eyes. you clenched your fists as jeno cleared his throat before speaking.

“i-i’m sorry okay? i didn’t mean for things to go so far with us. i never want you to think that you aren’t important to me. at the time, you were one of the best things that had ever happened to me. but we just weren’t right for each other, i told you that from the start” you finally built the courage to face him, his gentle eyes meeting your pained ones.

“god i wish you had thought this through, before i went and fell in love with you” those words hit him like a truck. he knew he had messed up, there was no going back from the damage he had done. he broke someone that he truly cared about. he hurt one of his only friends. he could never forgive himself for that.

“y-you’re going to find someone. someone way better than me. someone who sees how beautiful you are, someone who will hold on for dear life because they’re scared of losing you. i’m sorry i couldn’t be that guy for you. i am so sorry” you could sense the sincerity in his voice, but there was only so much an apology could fix.

“may i ask, are you happy?” he already knew his answer, and he knew it would hurt you if he answered truthfully. but he was done with lies,

“yeah i am, are you?” you pondered for a moment,

“i will be” you firmly answered, feeling a small grin grow on your face. although this entire interaction was pure torture, you were glad you were able to air out your conscience to the one person who was filling it. you and jeno agreed to cut contact for the time being, wishing each other the best. of course you would think about him every now and then, but you were onto bigger and better things. lee jeno was just one chapter on your book of life. there was so much more out there for you, and you couldn’t wait to experience it.

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besanii · 3 years

Note

Paper thin verse is playing to all my guilty pleasures! Since WWX is LXC’s consort, have they had sex or did LXC refrain out of respect? Has LXC visited WWX for platonic mourning time when he wants to get away from the pressures of court? How do the other consorts feel about WWX and the favor he gets from LXC?

[ part one (LWJ) | two (LXC) | three (WWX) | four (LWJ) ]

Nie Qiongyue finds him standing beneath the cherry blossom tree in the corner of the garden, staring up into the branches, lost in thought. The closest servants are hovering several metres away, just out of earshot but still within view, ready to respond to their master's every need.

Wei Wuxian, however, remains as still as a statue. If it were not for the breeze rustling through his long hair and the ends of his pale purple robes, he could very well have been a painting. Her fingers itch with the sudden urge to commit this scene to paper: Longing beneath the cherry blossoms. She wonders if she can fully capture the longing and wistfulness that shrouds Wei Wuxian’s silhouette with her mediocre skills.

The servants startle and drop to their knees when they see her approach.

"Huanghou-niangniang," they chorus.

Wei Wuxian turns around slowly, not a hint of surprise on his face bends his knees to greet her.

“This concubine greets Huanghou-niangniang,” he says.

“You may rise,” she responds.

As he straightens again, with all the grace and poise befitting a consort of the Imperial harem, she catches the twinkle of blue jewels from the zanzi in his hair and freezes. Her hands flex; she has to stop herself from reaching for the matching jewel adorning her own hair—cut differently, more elaborately, but undeniably the same. She swallows past the lump that has formed in her throat.

“Wei-xuanyi,” she says, keeping her voice level and tone pleasant. “I hope you have settled in well. If there is anything lacking in Chenghuan Hall, do not hesitate to inform Eunuch Zhao—it will be provided to you.”

Wei Wuxian inclines his head. “This concubine thanks Huanghou-niangniang for her generosity. Chenghuan Hall is already very well provisioned, there is truly nothing that can be found lacking.”

“Then I am glad to hear it.” She turns a half-step and looks at him. “I admit the renovations were done on such short notice, I have not had the chance to view the gardens in person. Why don’t you join me on a turn about it together?”

He lowers his eyes and dips his knee briefly.

“This concubine would be honoured.”

Nie Qiongyue has been married to Lan Xichen for almost ten years, six of which she has been Empress and governed over his inner palace. She has seen dozens of young women and men paraded before him in hopes of capturing his attention in those years—all beautiful, intelligent and well-bred, with impeccable manners and grace honed by years of training for that one specific purpose.

Wei Wuxian is different. And as such, she can see that Lan Xichen regards him differently too. She knows they have not been...intimate, not in the carnal sense, although they kept up the pretense of it with Lan Xichen’s frequent visits. Her husband claims he is only trying to protect Wei Wuxian, to offer him comfort in the wake of Lan Wangji’s death. But Nie Qiongyue is not blind.

She would be lying if she says she is not a little envious of the way her husband looks at Wei Wuxian, even if he himself does not realise it.

But she is an Empress, Lan Xichen’s Empress, first and foremost. She knows her duty.

She instructs her own servants to fall back, and they join Wei Wuxian’s servants trailing behind them as they walk down the gravel path, out of earshot and gazes respectfully lowered, but always attentive. She is accustomed to their constant, watchful presence, and knows the subtle ways to navigate privacy when she needs it. Wei Wuxian, however, is carefully deliberate in the way he walks half a step behind her, his shoulders stiff and head lowered.

"How are you settling into life in the inner palace?" she asks as they make their way to the large man-made pond in the centre of the garden. "I imagine it must have been quite a big change from what you are accustomed to in Yunmeng."

Wei Wuxian manages a half-smile.

"Huanghou-niangniang is kind to ask," he says. "It is indeed very different, but I am learning. I beg your patience and forgiveness for any transgressions while I do."

"Certainly." She returns his smile with one of her own and sees some of the tension bleed from his shoulders, though his eyes remain wary. "The Emperor seems to be very fond of you.”

He stiffens again and shakes his head quickly with a bitten-off laugh.

“The Emperor is generous and kind to this undeserving concubine,” he says. “But Niangniang is the one the Emperor truly values. Compared to you, what affection the Emperor bestows upon this lowly concubine is insignificant.”

She reaches out to place a hand on his arm and feels him suppress a flinch. He masks it almost immediately with another smile, so she lets it slide.

“You have not been with us long, so you are not yet aware of the Emperor’s habits,” she tells him, keeping her tone light and friendly. “But he rarely spends more than two consecutive nights with any consort or concubine. And yet he has spent seven days of the last month here, four of which were on consecutive nights. It has surprised many of us indeed.”

She slides her hand around his arm, looping it around his elbow in a sisterly fashion as they continue to walk. He allows the movement, which brings them closer and shields them from prying eyes.

“Wei Wuxian.” He inhales at the sudden change in her tone, but doesn’t make any other outward acknowledgment. A quick learner. Good. “The Emperor has told me the truth of your situation. I want you to know that while you are here, your wellbeing is my responsibility, and I will do what is within my power in order to protect you.

“But,” she continues before he can interrupt, pulling back slightly and raising her voice. “You will still be held to the standards of an Imperial Consort, and expected to comply with the rules. You will serve the Emperor when he calls upon you. There will be no concessions, no matter how much favour the Emperor bestows upon you. Is that understood?”

Wei Wuxian studies her for a moment, an inscrutable expression on his face, before he steps out of her grip and bends his knee to her.

“This concubine is grateful for your teachings, Huanghou-niangniang,” he replies dutifully.

She nods.

“Very good.” She motions for him to stand. “You’ll do very well yet, Wei-xuanyi.”

“Huanghou-niangniang, Eunuch Wang from Chenghuan Hall.”

She glances up from her needlework as Eunuch Wang enters and prostrates himself on the ground before her.

“This servant pays respects to Huanghou-niangniang,” he says. She nods and turns her attention back to her embroidery, so he raises his head to continue. “The Emperor visited Chenghuan Hall again last night.”

She passes the needle through the silk, pulling the dark blue thread through the fabric in one smooth motion. She makes no acknowledgment of his words. It is hardly newsworthy, especially not these days, for Lan Xichen to visit the master of Chenghuan Hall. Eunuch Wang clears his throat awkwardly.

“Huanghou-niangniang—“

“Is it done?” she asks, still not looking up from her work.

Eunuch Wang bows.

“Yes, Niangniang,” he says. “It’s done.”

“Good.” She waves a hand in dismissal. “You may return to your post and continue your surveillance.”

It was bound to happen. She’d known it would only be a matter of time. And as Lan Xichen’s Empress, it is her duty to ensure his consorts and concubines are performing theirs.

She barely flinches when the needle pricks her finger and a dark red spot appears on the white silk. She watches it spread slowly, blossoming like the cherry blossoms in Chenghuan Hall.

Translations

Huanghou-niangniang (皇后娘娘) - Her/Your Majesty the Empress

Chenghuan Hall (承歡殿) - 承歡 (chenghuan) means to cater to somebody in order to make them happy (usually about parents). I couldn’t think of a nice, succinct translation for it at 2am in the morning so you guys get the pinyin haha

buy me a ko-fi!

more paper-thin fic | verse

I should wear my glasses when writing fic...forgive any typos please!

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