#the two side faces––sadness and anger––are sides of her she has less control over. i drew all 3 faces active for the exploration | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

paperjunk · 2 years

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Life or Death - Chapter 10

Summary: Anger issues and memories of a horrific past biting at her heels, Kenzie Ames is pulled back into active service. Sent to Top Gun to help train a handful of Navy Pilots on how to survive their next mission, Ames’ resentment and anger may hurt her and those around her more than she knows if she can’t get it under control. Secrets weighing her down, Ames soon finds a Lieutenant’s persistent desire to know her maybe more than she can handle as the clock ticks away the time she has to make sure that not only do they come home, but the part of herself she left back in the cold, barren, tundra does too.

Author Notes: I am out of practice writing fanfiction. Sorry. This is an OC x Bradly Bradshaw or Reader x Bradly Bradshaw. All 3rd person pov.

Table of Contents: Will update as we go.

Ames sighed in the darkness as she sat down on the cold, hard cement of an empty hanger floor, watching the SR-72's assent. The sound of the night was drowned out momentarily by the engine's roar, as were her thoughts of when Maverick had cornered her in a similar hanger several nights ago.

"You know," Ames' body jerked at Rooster's voice breaking the quiet that had seeped back into the air. She was going to put a bell around that man's neck one day if she got the chance. "I have never seen you in a flight suit or your uniform. Not even once," he said with a smile that could be heard in his voice if not seen by Ames' eyes.

"What do you want, Lieutenant?"

Rooster was beginning to see a pattern. 'Bradshaw' when she was friendly and 'Lieutenant' when she was annoyed or didn't have the energy to give two fucks. He wondered what it would mean if she actually used his first name and what it would do to him if she did.

'Hell would freeze over first,' he thought with a quirk of his eyebrow before he took a seat beside her in the dark hanger.

"You don't like being around us, do you?" He asked, eyes watching her profile.

“No."

Both of Rooster's eyebrows went up this time, and he nodded his head in understanding.

"At least you're honest," he replied, turning his eyes back to the moonlit sky.

Ames sighed softly. "I don't like being in small places...with people."

Rooster was genuinely afraid to speak, let alone move, for fear that she might stop talking if he did. In all this time, he had yet to hear Ames offer anything about herself, even when they had been alone, other than what she had told Phoenix the night before. Nothing more, nothing less.

"My PTSD is an eight on good days," she said, not looking over at him. "On bad days—I start looking for the exits, then I start counting the heads in the room...then I look for the most viable weapons."

PTSD? Rooster thought back to what Maverick had said about Ames. It had been the first day he had stopped trying not to look at her but began to actually see her.

"You're going to die," she said softly, and it felt as if only Rooster could hear her. As if the words were something meant for his ears and his ears alone. "And your pride won't even let you see why."

Rooster remembered a sadness sweeping over her face before a mask, he hadn't realized she had, slipped into place.

What was it that Mav had said?

"The sim she's got you running. It wasn't a sim for her."

Rooster had heard him that day but hadn't let what it might have meant for her to sink into his mind.

"I live my life by a very simple motto. Life or death. Fly or Die."

"Fly or die," Rooster said aloud, and Ames' eyes landed on him in the dark. "The sim for the Felons. It was a real-world mission for you."

"No mission," she said softly as she pulled her leg up and rested the side of her head against her knee. "Escape."

Brown eyes darted to the light scar on the left side of her upper lip, to the ones along the back of her neck, and although he couldn't see them in the darkness, he knew there were ones on the tops of her wrists, where her tattooed sleeves of large flowering buds and coiling black snakes, hid. He understood why she didn't want them to be captured—because she had. She may have escaped her captors, but she had returned to find she had left a piece of herself behind.

"Not as sexy as you thought, huh?" Ames said, watching his face. Her scars had been many a person's curiosity. But, aside from those higher up the food chain and her DOD-appointed therapist, no one else knew. He was the first and would very likely be the last.

"I still think you're beautiful," Rooster responded unexpectedly, and he felt immediately foolish. Not only because it felt like the phrase was a catch-all, but he had just told his Senior Officer that he thought she was beautiful.

'What the fuck did I just do?" He thought.

Ames chuckled, wishing she could see if the tips of his ears were going red again like they had that night on the beach and how they had back in the bar when he had been just a little too forward. Just a little too willing to risk it with other SO's around; and just a little too careless with his military career to reach out and touch her. She had forced herself to pull away and smile jokingly as her eyes caught Fanboy and Payback looking around the bar and felt the sudden vibration of his phone in his pocket against her leg as he had pressed his own against hers casually in the booth.

"Beautiful...," she said quietly, and Rooster felt hesitation from Ames like a static charge in the air. "You don't know me, Bradshaw," she said in the darkness, lifting her head from her knee. "I'm seven layers of fucked up and have baggage for days..."

"I want to know you better," Rooster replied, interrupting her. "And who doesn't have baggage?"

"You say that now," Ames replied, and Rooster felt her watching him, gauging his response. "Wait until I try and stab you in the middle of the night because of a nightmare."

Rooster could have said any number of things to reassure her at that moment, but he couldn't stop his mind from latching onto what she had insinuated.

"In the middle of the night?" He asked lightly, trying to hold back a smile. Ames rolled her eyes with a sharp sigh of annoyance, turning her face away from him, which only made Rooster chuckle. "So, you think we'd be sleeping together at that point?"

Ames shook her head in disbelief, straining to stow her grin. "You would actively choose to lock onto that instead," she answered, refusing to look at him.

Shifting his legs as he still sat on the ground next to Ames, Rooster laughed. "For the past three weeks—" he started but was quickly interrupted.

"It has not been three weeks," Ames corrected, shaking her head again, feeling the heat of his body beside her as he moved closer.

"Okay, okay, two and a half weeks, you have been vigorously torturing me."

"Vigorously? What?" Ames' turned to face him as she laughed, her smile brighter than anything he'd seen from her before, and something raced up his spine, spreading over his ribs, and his heart tightened in response.

Rooster couldn't stop himself from smiling; he couldn't stop himself from leaning a little closer and smelling her perfume's now familiar scent. And he definitely wasn't going to stop himself from wondering what it would be like to wake up to the smell of her in his bed.

"You have smiled, touched, and flirted with me since day one."

"Touched? Flirted?" She asked, smile still bright. Rooster wasn't sure if it was in disbelief or amusement quite yet. "I have not flirted with you since day one."

"Yes, you have," Rooster replied, still unable to quit beaming.

"Oh my god," Ames said, pausing between each word with a laugh, rolling her eyes and turning away from him again as she shook her head.

"Didn't think I'd call you out on that?" He asked, licking his lips and watching her with a grin. "You have to take responsibility for me now."

So, Ames had been a little loose as of late with her flirting with the Lieutenant, and her own thoughts had wandered into dangerous territory several times, but that hadn't meant she was going to act on them. Since she first got back, the idea of a relationship was a joke. Much later on, though, Ames realized how lonely she had gotten. She had pushed away close friends. And family? Family did not exist for her. So, in the wee hours of the morning, with her eyes staring up at the water stain on the ceiling, she often wondered what it might be like to feel someone next to her again. To feel the warmth of a body taking over a side of her bed instead of her sleeping in the middle of it.

Unfortunately, in the last few days, the man beside her, in fantasies of normalcy—had morphed into Rooster.

Feeling the shift in her, Rooster leaned in, fingers brushing her hair back from her face as he found he liked to do, and she turned to look at him.

He had gotten closer, much too close.

The smell of his cologne, a citrus top note of apple and lemon balanced against a hefty sandalwood, clung to her like mist hanging over the wet dew of an early morning sunrise. She wanted to lean into it, to take in everything that he was or could be, but her mind was battling against her body.

"Bradshaw...," his name on her lips was all it took for the hurricane inside of him to slip the leash of his mind.

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A/N: I’m sorry for the cliffhanger. I didn’t plan on it. The chapter got away from me and was too long. I’m sorry! Though I will post the next sooner! Thank you for reading my little story this far!! It really does mean a lot!

#Top Gun #Top Gun Maverick #Rooster x OC #Rooster x reader #reader x rooster #oc #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x OC #Reader x Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader #OC x Bradley Rooster Bradshaw #Reader x Bradley Bradshaw #OC x Bradley Bradshaw #mywriting

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

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Baby Broke Down In My Bed Again

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: this came to be because 1. I wanted to try and write a more sanguine, less patient reader 2. @minaslittleone do you remember a long time ago when we agreed that someone with as much self-hatred as Wilhemina probably had moments when sex wasn’t bearable, or something like that? Well, I decided to write a fic about it. Reader x W’s relationship has been going on for quite a while in this one, because I wanted a less guarded, more trusting and forgiving Wilhemina.

Word count: ≈ 8 700

You collapsed on the bed with a groan and let your body sink into the mattress. It had been such a long, boring and yet incredibly busy day, that had made you feel way older than your years. All you wanted now was to forget about it entirely and let warmth and content take over.

Wilhemina was tucked in on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had been particularly quiet this evening, seemingly lost in her head, had played with her food and answered your questions with short, annoyed sentences. You had let her be, given her space, regularly glancing at her for any sign of pain, but her back didn’t seem to be the trouble. She had helped you clear the table, and the soft brush of her hand against your arm had felt like a silent apology.

Now you snuggled up to her side, curling your body to fill all the gaps between you and her, and planting soft kisses on the bare skin between her collarbones.

“What are you reading?” you whispered, draping one arm over her stomach to pull her closer.

“Still the same book,” she answered, rather curtly.

You peered up at her, planted more kisses along her collarbone, then buried your face in her neck. Your eyes fluttered closed. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and safe, your safe place; you felt the tension slowly leave your body, and be replaced with sweet, happy content that nestled cozily in your stomach.

Home. In the past year you and her had built your home together. You had painted your walls in her colors and she had filled her rooms with your laughter. By now you knew by heart which parts of her floor creaked when you put your foot on it, which parts of her body to press your fingers on to make her moan.

“Will you read to me?” you whispered against her skin.

It came out too muffled for her to understand. She made a questioning noise, but it bore so much annoyance you decided against repeating your question. Instead, you slipped your fingers under her night shirt and started stroking slow circles on her stomach, the softness of her skin sparking a low fire where there had been only warmth.

You snuggled closer to her still, nudging her neck with your nose and breathing her in. She was intoxicating, you thought, as you planted soft, lazy kisses that lingered longer on her skin as your brain slowly awoke to a growing need, so ridiculously intoxicating; you pushed yourself up on one elbow for better access as you trailed kisses up her neck, your other hand sliding up to caress the swell of her right breast.

Wilhemina set her book aside, which made you smirk victoriously. You sucked on the skin over her pulse point just as she lay one hand on your shoulder, and was about to flick your thumb over her nipple when she gently pushed you away.

There was surprise in your eyes when you met hers. Wilhemina was so incredibly hungry for affection she rarely rejected it when you so eagerly offered it to her.

You scanned her face, your breathing quick and expectant.

Wilhemina held your gaze and shook her head. “Not tonight, Y/N.”

She didn’t look annoyed anymore, just sad. It was this sadness that silenced the protestations tingling on your tongue.

You swallowed down disappointment and planted one last kiss on her collarbone before lying down again, with your face mere inches from her shoulder. You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths till the heat in your head and in-between your legs was back under control.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Of course I am,” she retorted, but the tone of her voice betrayed her.

Her voice was always softer in the evening. There was a warm fondness to it that let giggles and chuckles and secrets go through almost unimpeded. Four months or so into your relationship, she had allowed herself to take off parts of her armor and hang them next to her coat after she had closed the front door to her place or yours. Weapons were set on the floor, and the weight of them replaced with the weight of your body on top of hers.

But tonight, she was using the voice which to your ears sounded like the low, threatening growl of faraway thunder. Meant to warn, to intimidate, to make you duck your head and run away.

For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching her.

“Do you want to keep on reading?” you asked eventually.

“No.”

“Should we turn off the light, then?”

“Don’t you need to get off first?”

The spite and harshness of her voice had you reeling for a second. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

“Excuse me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and glazed. “Don’t you need to get off first?”

This time, her voice wasn’t spiteful but mocking, condescending. That made it even worse.

“No,” you answered, gaze boring into hers, “I don’t need to get off first.” You paused. “Did something happen today?”

“Nothing happened today,” Wilhemina snapped.

You swallowed back anger, forced your voice to stay calm. “Then what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

With a groan you closed your eyes and rolled away from her, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp.

The darkness only increased your anger. You lay fuming with your back to her, curled in on yourself and cursing that brain of hers that was so ridiculously stubborn and scared and hurt. There was no talking to her when she was behaving like this and yet it was killing you, not knowing how to help her even after a whole year of loving her.

And what troubled you was, she had opened up to you before. Not enough times that you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand, but still. And you couldn’t begin to understand why tonight she had decided to shut you out.

You heard her shift behind you. Before you knew what you were doing, you were turning on the light again and sitting up.

“Talk to me,” you said – maybe a bit too harshly, but you couldn’t do better.

Wilhemina slowly opened her eyes to meet your gaze.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “except that if you need to get off, the bathroom –”

“What happened today?” you cut her off.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. “I told you before,” - voice slower still, and mocking, mocking so cruelly as if she were talking to a moron -, “nothing happened today.”

“I’m not turning off the light until you’ve talked to me.”

She smirked. “Suit yourself. I can sleep just fine with the light on.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

You huffed, staring down at her disbelievingly. For a minute you waited, refusing to believe she was going to end the conversation like this. But she didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. You watched the slow, regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, almost mesmerized, then groaned.

Hot-tempered, your parents had always called you. You knew they were right, and you had been successfully working on it. But tonight, something in you snapped.

You had been so patient with Wilhemina. Taken one step forward, two backwards. Braved the storm, kneeled down and extended one hand toward the terrified and the abandoned shivering in the rain. But tonight, you let the anger win.

So, with your heart pumping fire instead of blood and its smoke filling your head, you lay down on your back, spread your legs open and touched yourself.

And you started to moan. Loud, exaggerated moans, and you made a show of moving your hips so hard the bed creaked.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your wrist in fast circles that brought you no pleasure at all, “hmm,” biting your lower lip and closing your eyes; you slipped your hand lower down, and forced a finger inside. “Fuck,” you screamed, “I haven’t been fucked so good in months!”

Stop it, a voice pleaded somewhere deep inside your head. You ignored it. You bucked your hips against your hand, slid your other hand up your body to tease your nipple. As you forced another exaggerated moan out of your mouth, you increased the pace between your legs, anger making you desperate for release and increasing with every second you were denied it.

You pushed another finger inside, wincing at the pain, and rubbed harder at your clit, demanding pleasure. You tensed your muscles to help your body reach its climax; and then, finally, finally, felt pleasure build and build and sweep over you. As your body gave a few weak shakes you remembered to arch your back and to cry out, “Yes! God! I haven’t felt so good in so long!”

With a dramatic sigh you let your body fall back on the mattress and brought one hand up to your forehead. There was a drumming in your ears, and something unpleasant that nudged in your chest. You closed your eyes, feigning exhaustion, forcing your chest to heave, and waited a few seconds before you stole a glance at Wilhemina.

She hadn’t made a single noise, nor moved an inch, during your little show. She was still lying on her back, barely breathing, eyes wide open and unblinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw.

In the following silence, the smoke in your head cleared. The drumming in your ears slowed down, the tingling between your legs disappeared; but the thing in your chest grew. It grew and crushed your heart till it became hard to breathe.

You were about to say Wilhemina’s name when she slowly sat up in bed. She paused, her back to you, and reached out for her cane. Her hand was shaking.

You closed your eyes and listened to her footsteps as she fumbled about the room for a while, dropped something, picked it up; walked out. Her footsteps receded down the corridor; heels; and then, you heard the front door close.

Your flat was empty and silent when you got up at dawn the next morning. For a long moment you stood still in the middle of the room, not looking at anything in particular, dread gnawing at your insides.

You weren’t sure you could remember what had happened the night before. The pictures were too blurry. There were memories, but could they be real? You didn’t want them to be. Everything you could remember had anger and cruelty woven into it, things that had ugly faces and smiled ugly, selfish smiles.

The side of your bed where Wilhemina usually slept was unmade. You picked up her pillow, pressed it to your nose and breathed in her scent. Then you walked into your bathroom and saw with relief that her things were still there, the toothbrush and makeup products she always left at your place and whose sight you cherished every morning more than you cherished that of the rising sun.

You turned, walked into your living room. Her coat was gone, so were her shoes. There was no note on the table. In the sink still lay the two mugs you had been too lazy to wash the evening before.

On the verge of panic you picked up your phone and dialed Mutt’s number. He was a friend of a friend, and it had been thanks to him that you had first met Wilhemina all those years ago. Mutt’s idiocy and complete lack of maturity had, strangely, grown on you. You two sometimes spent drunken evenings together, watching movies and screaming at the screen every time something happened that was scientifically impossible. In the company of Mutt it was easy to be stupid, and gross, and mean. So, you thought, as you listened to the ringing tone, Mutt was the kind of person you needed right now: someone to confess your sin to without fear of being judged, for without a doubt he had, at one point in his life, done worse; someone that would give you such ridiculously bad advice you could, if you were lucky, withdraw a few crumbs of wisdom from the madness.

“The fuck, asshole,” Mutt barked into the phone, “have you seen the time?”

You closed your eyes, wincing. You could almost smell the alcohol in his voice. “Sorry, Mutt. I really need to talk to you.”

Mutt yawned, groaned, fell silent. All you could hear was the quick beating of your heart. The clamminess of your hand made the phone slippery, and your eyes were starting to sting.

“I, um,” you started. Took a breath, released it shakily. “So, possibly, I fucked up.”

There was a noise like another distorted yawn. “Babe, why am I not surprised.”

“Did something happen at work yesterday?” you asked.

“Yeah, Lily spilled her Starbucks on Jeff’s laptop and it made all the arms go ballistic –”

“I mean,” you cut him off, sniffling, “I mean with Wilhemina.”

Silence. A noise, as if Mutt was moving.

“Mutt?”

“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking. No, nothing that I can remember. Hey, did you know that –”

“Are you sure, Mutt?” you insisted. You felt the hot, wet lick of a tear as it trailed down your cheek. “Nothing that someone said that made her snap? Are you sure nothing –”

“She snaps at everyone 24/7, how am I supposed to know,” Mutt grumbled.

“I fucked up,” you sobbed into the receiver. Your body bent forward with the force of the guilt that finally washed over you. “Mutt,” you whined, “when she comes to work, could you tell her to call me?”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” Mutt said.

“Tell her to call me. Lock her up in her office or something until she agrees, Mutt, please. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N, and it’s too early for this shit. But yes, yes, ok, I will. Not the lock her up thing. I don’t want to be caned.” There was a pause, as you sniffed and sobbed, not even caring to wipe your cheeks and nose, then Mutt added tentatively: “There’s a football game tonight if you want to come over and watch it with me. Don’t call, just barge in. Goodnight.” And with that he hung up.

You called in sick at work. You spent the day pacing up and down in your flat, occasionally throwing yourself on your bed or couch to sob.

Your phone never rang. Not that y ou really expected it to. But still – you had hope.

When the hands on your clock announced 3pm, you decided you couldn’t wait anymore, and drove to Kineros. You parked your car on the sidewalk. Somehow you managed to reach Mutt and Jeff’s office before security caught up with you. They narrowed their eyes at you, but sent the security guard off.

“When I said barge in,” Mutt started, “I meant my place.”

“I’m here to see Wilhemina,” you panted. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah, but she warned her assistant not to let anyone bother her and I think –”

“I won’t be long,” you cut him off, rushing out of the room. One second later you were back. “Show me the way?”

Wilhemina didn’t look up as Mutt and you walked down the long corridor that led to her office. You scanned her figure worriedly, noting the vacant look in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the tight line that was her mouth as she typed quickly on her laptop.

“Babe,” Mutt started, “there’s –”

Wilhemina cut him off, slowly raising her head. “Do not let yourself think for a second that just because you –”

Her eyes fell on you.

Slowly, her mouth closed. You almost stopped in your tracks at the rage that ignited in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds deal with your things, then,” Mutt said with a nervous laugh, before turning on his heels. You barely registered his departure.

For a few, long, painful seconds, you stood frozen in front of Wilhemina’s desk, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt, holding Wilhemina’s burning gaze and your whole body vibrating with love and fear and regret; and then, something in your chest burst, and you lurched forward.

“Mina I –”

“I told Lily to wait for you in the room next door,” she cut you off, voice low and so terribly slow.

You blinked. “Who’s Lily?”

“Mutt and Jeff’s favorite pleasure giver. Just the kind of human scum you need, as you made very clear last night.”

“You pushed me to it,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Wilhemina heard you.

Slowly, performing the precise balance exercise she had rehearsed thousands of times before, she stood up.

“Because you refused to speak to me,” you were quick to add. “You’re a human being, Mina, not an oyster –”

“You’re so fucking eloquent,” Wilhemina taunted. “If only you could control your emotions as well as you can express yourself.”

You took yet another step forward, your stomach pressing against the edge of her desk, as you felt the familiar hot tingle which meant anger had fought its way through the crowd of all the other emotions battling inside you, and had now reached the stage.

“If only you could actually express yourself,” you spat back, refusing to lower or avert your eyes no matter how painful it was becoming to hold her gaze. It was too intense, too furious and too dark. “Why are you doing this? Why are you shutting me out all of a sudden? I feel like we’re back on day one.” You leaned towards her in exasperation – and in hope, that maybe you could still reach her. Your eyes widened in a plea, your hands closed around the edge of her desk. “What’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Wilhemina’s face closed up even more at your words. The anger in her eyes disappeared under a thick veil.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, still as terribly, terribly slowly.

“I’ll go find Lily, then,” you fumed.

“You do that.”

Wilhemina’s eyes still expressed nothing at all, and it broke your heart, for that nothing wasn’t here to hide her anger. She had no problem letting anger show. That nothing was here to hide how badly she was hurting.

It made you want to break something. Anything, but mostly the walls around her heart. To hit your fists against them and to tear them down brick by brick and to crash your way into her.

And above all the rest rose a sense of helplessness, for you had no idea how to fix this. You had shot a perfect shot, hit the center of the target, the arrow’s head tearing through the heart. And as the hunter bends over their kill, you held Wilhemina’s blank, glazed eyes, and caught a glimpse of the damage you had done.

And then, a wave of revolt. For she had hurt you, too. Had refused to let you in and spat bitter words at you.

There were just too many things happening inside of you, too big a crowd of emotions. You were boiling and you didn’t know how to cool down.

You turned on your heel and were about to storm off when the crowd suddenly held its breath. Anger had bent down and helped frustration up onto the stage.

You turned around, fists clenched and eyes stinging. “I’m sure Lily will tell me more about herself in five minutes than you ever will in five years!” you burst out.

“Then why are you still here?” Wilhemina growled lowly. “Or are you too stupid to understand how one walks? One foot aft-”

“Because I love you!” you burst out. “This past year with you has been the best in my whole goddamn life and it kills me, that you won’t let me in.” You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes against the emotion that you could feel bubbling out of you. “I want to love you but you won’t let me,” you whined.

Wilhemina didn’t reply. She turned a shade pinker, but her lips stayed tightly shut and her eyes stayed veiled as she processed your words. When finally she spoke, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“You seem to think of yourself as the victim,” she said slowly, and a flicker of anger made its way out and shone in her eyes. ”I don’t know much about being loved,” spitting out the words as if they could kill her, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt like this.”

At first you thought the words had slipped unbidden from her lips. It still surprised you when she would confess to being in pain, physically or mentally. Of course there were signs you had learnt to recognise, a clenched jaw, glazed eyes, wanton snapping, but Wilhemina rarely gave her pain a voice. Pain was shameful. It had to be ignored and never, never to be processed.

But then, as you watched her, stunned, and her body hunched up as if she wished she could disappear, and her eyes turned vulnerable, the certainty settled inside you, painful but incredibly warm. It hadn’t been an accidental push, but a voluntary jump.

There was no uprising. Anger, frustration, the stage, suddenly vanished.

Without thinking you stepped around her desk, but stopped when Wilhemina took several steps backward.

Her name left your mouth in a broken plea, but she shook her head and then all of a sudden her façade shattered.

The quiver in her voice when she spoke next made your heart ache.

“I know I cannot ask for much but I thought – I thought in a relationship at least the most basic respect –”

She trailed off, jaw and mouth still working to form words her voice refused to carry.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. All the fight in you had disappeared; all that was left was a terrible sense of dread and guilt.

“No no no, Mina I… sweetheart of course you can ask for everything, I…”

Tentatively you took a step forward. This time, Wilhemina didn’t move. She was peering at you, chin uncharacteristically tilted downward, eyes getting shinier by the second.

You held up both hands in front of you.

“I didn’t mean it,” you heard yourself say. “You’re not inadequate, I – I didn’t mean any of it, Mina. Look at me,” you added forcefully, as her eyes moved to some random thing over your shoulder and threatened to glaze over again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I got mad, and I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Certainly your last few words were what Wilhemina had been dying to hear, for her shoulders suddenly slumped. Tears pooled in her eyes that she harshly wiped away before they had time to stain, and she let out a long, trembling sigh that seemed to take her strength away with it.

A strangled, mirthless laugh burst from your lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides.

You were too scared to even dare breathe properly. Scared that Wilhemina would order you away and refuse to ever see you again, or, more likely, that she would shut you out and retreat behind her walls, pretend she was alright, that nothing had happened and that she hadn’t even felt the prickle of the needle. But her face stayed open, her eyes vulnerable as she wiped at them repeatedly in an attempt to maintain her composure.

“Will you, uh.” You shifted your weight on your feet, unable to stay still for the sight of her so unguarded made you desperate to reach out and hug her. Gather up the pieces and glue them back together. “Will you let me pick you up from work tonight? I can drive you back to your place, and we can, if you want, talk.” Your chest hurt. You leaned towards her, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can make it right, Mina, I know I can. Please let me in – I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She nodded, and when her hand came up again to wipe her eyes, tears rolled between her fingers and down her cheeks.

Without thinking you extended your hand towards her, and briefly brushed her wrist with your fingertips.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding, fingers still swiping at her face.

You peered up at her hopefully. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” you laughed, so incredibly relieved you felt like bursting into tears.

A laugh left Wilhemina’s lips, too, sad and half-strangled. She moved her arm until it met your hand. Your fingers automatically wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her skin as she swiped at her eyes.

She looked smaller, and so much younger, a little girl who felt too much and had been unwillingly shoved into an adult’s body. You wondered if this was her with her soul stripped completely naked.

You had expected high walls built higher and stronger, defensive armies gone mad with wrath at the blow you had dealt - not an open gate. What had you done to deserve it? This was so unhoped for, so dearly cherished, whatever had triggered it, be it trust or love or both.

You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude. Weren’t sure you were worthy of such a precious thing as her trust. Your hands had never held a baby bird that fragile before.

You gave her wrist a squeeze. “I’ll leave you alone now,” you whispered, “and –”

“Actually would you mind –” She cut herself short. Her gaze searched yours for a second, pleadingly, begging you to understand without her having to resort to words.

“Yes?” you breathed, body leaning closer to hers so there was no more than one inch between her and you.

Her eyes met yours again, dark and sad and something in your chest like a string attached to your heart pulled towards her, desperate to hold with healing hands and soothing warmth.

“Could you –”

Again, she bit her lip against the words she wouldn’t allow herself to utter. You searched her eyes to try and understand as frustration flicked across her face, nails digging into flesh, lips twisting; until finally she released a breath and with it burst out, terrified and angry and shaking, “Would you mind just holding me for a second?”

She winced at her own words, her nails digging deeper into her skin in disgust as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. With your heart in your throat you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

How easy it would have been to burst into tears and wail pitifully in her arms. God knew how badly you wanted to. But Wilhemina was being so brave, and you had to make it up to her for the way you had behaved, so you swallowed back your tears and forced yourself to take a deep breath to ease the ache in your chest.

You buried your face in Wilhemina’s hair, squeezing her so tight in your arms part of you was terrified you were hurting her - the other part didn’t care. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, and hers clutched the back of your shirt, her lips grazing the skin of your neck but not daring to press a kiss.

Her eyes were red and puffy when you met her gaze again. Gently you cupped her face, and dropped a kiss on each of her burning cheeks – then, tentatively, brushed your lips against hers.

A noise that was half a sob, half laughter pushed out of Wilhemina’s mouth and then her lips pressed against yours, hot and wet and needy but with a shyness to them, so hesitant, as if this was your first kiss and she was expecting rejection. You pressed your chest against hers to show her you were not going anywhere, slid your hand up her back and pushed your palm against her spine, a silent I want you, all of you. So Wilhemina nipped your lower lip, and only let herself relax when you hummed appreciatively.

You held her hand as she fought to regain her composure; straightened her shoulders, veiled her eyes, and shielded her heart. You accompanied her to the nearest bathroom, and gave her hand one last squeeze before you let go of it.

Mutt and Jeff peered up at you as you stomped into their office, collapsed into Mutt’s arms and finally let yourself burst into tears.

Mutt gave your back several awkward pats as you sobbed, clinging to him and wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. Jeff’s awkwardness was almost palpable, and when you pulled away from Mutt, still sobbing, all he could think of was to offer you some coke, and then a drink when you refused.

“No,” you whined, “no, I need to stay sober. I need to make it right.”

“Jeez, did you kill someone?” Mutt asked, with a glance in Jeff’s direction and a guffaw to hide his nervousness.

“I thought about what you asked me,” Mutt went on after a few seconds. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened yesterday.”

To kill time you went on a walk, and ended up buying a huge bouquet of roses and dahlias for Wilhemina, as well as two boxes of fancy dark chocolates, a very fluffy lilac blanket, and two bottles of Wilhemina’s favorite wine. You stacked all those gifts in the backseat of your car, and walked back into Kineros at 6:30pm sharp.

Wilhemina was waiting for you in the lobby, sitting very straight on a chair, both hands tightly wrapped around the head of her cane.

“Oh shit,” you whined, “was it 6 today?”

She nodded. You poured out apologies, which she didn’t seem to hear as she slowly pushed herself up from her chair. You fell silent when you realised she had waited half an hour for you, despite it all. Something nice fluttered in your chest.

In the car Wilhemina’s eyes fell on her gifts, then shifted to you, questioningly, and her cheeks reddened when you explained it was all for her.

The drive was awkward. You turned the radio on to fill in the silence, opened your window because the air felt too hot, fidgeted on your seat and drummed on the wheel every time you had to stop at a red light. Several times you opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Wilhemina’s hand was shaking when she opened her front door. You dumped all the gifts you had bought her on the sofa and hurried to help her out of her coat, and did she want you to make her some tea? Was she hungry? Would she rather you ran her a bath? You could make her dinner, her favorite dish, and if an ingredient was lacking you would run to the store so if she needed anything else you could buy it too, and -

“I don’t need anything, Y/N,” she cut you off, not meanly, but with a firmness to her voice and an absence of warmth that effectively made you shut up.

You stood still in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do and mind running a mile a minute. While Wilhemina tended to the flowers, you decided to fluff and rearrange the pillows on her couch, and when you were done and couldn’t find anything else to do, you hurried to her and planted yourself at a safe distance behind her as you blurted out, “Mina, I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stilled for a second over the flowers. She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge your apology.

“What I did yesterday was terrible and I don’t know how to make it up to you,” you pushed on, voice quivering but still loud, for you were determined to mend whatever you could still mend. “I - I don’t know how to apologize properly to you, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

Silence. Your body felt hot suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire within you. You ran one hand over your forehead nervously, heart drumming in your ears, peering at Wilhemina’s shoulders. Her ponytail fell neatly down her back, red frizz grazing the pale skin of her neck just below her hairline.

Silence lingered. Your eyes fell hopelessly to the floor.

“The gifts were a nice touch,” Wilhemina said.

You looked up at her, automatically took a step forward.

“Were they really? I’m so glad. I didn’t know if -”

“Nothing happened yesterday.”

You cut yourself short, mouth still open as you stared at her in surprise. From where you were standing behind her, you could only see the sharp lines of her left jaw, cheekbone and brow. She was staring fixedly at a rose, hands resting on the table on either side of the vase and supporting most of her weight.

“I passed a couple on the sidewalk and they laughed, and I couldn’t help but –” Her voice faltered, eyes closing in frustration. “I thought they were laughing at me.”

Quickly you closed the distance between her and you and leaned forward to take a better look at her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed.

“Because it’s so stupid,” she spat, eyes still closed, anger making her voice tremble. “It’s so fucking stupid, Y/N. I know they could have been laughing at anything, but my stupid, stupid…”A hiss, one hand coming up to press her palm against her forehead.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard yourself say. Your fingers brushed her arm, a silent question, hopeful, tentative, your skin drawn to her warmth always. And just as she had done a few hours ago, she leaned into your touch, and your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“It made me so incredibly…There was so much…” Her palm hit her forehead as a sob pushed out of her mouth. “It shouldn’t have affected me like that. I shouldn’t have let it. But there was so much… I couldn’t even bear you touching me like that,” she breathed.

“So much what?” you whispered, grazing your lips over her shoulder.

A long, shaky breath. You could almost hear the words screaming in Wilhemina’s head, pushing against the dam in her throat but not strong enough to break through it. Instead, she removed her hand from your grip, reached into her pocket, and slipped a small piece of paper into your hand.

“What’s this?” you asked.

You unfolded the piece of paper to find a phone number in Wilhemina’s handwriting.

Wilhemina sniffed, took a breath to speak. “It’s Lily’s.”

You looked up at her confusedly.

“For the days like yesterday,” Wilhemina explained. Her gaze fled yours, sad and ashamed, before meeting it again. The hand that had been touching yours mere seconds ago now wrapped around the head of her cane and dug into it. “For the nights I can’t satisfy you.”

For a moment you stared at her, unable or unwilling to process her words, while she shrank back further away from you. For a moment there was only white noise in your head.

And then something hot rose inside you, familiar and hated and too strong.

So, hold on – hold on.

“Is that what you want?” you said – too angry. You were losing control again, brain filled with smoke and it felt like you were listening to yourself speak instead of thinking the words. “You want me to fuck somebody else?”

The words boomed through the room. Louder and scarier than thunder. Wilhemina and you were left staring at each other, too small and too helpless to face something that big and that powerful.

You watched as Wilhemina’s face hardened by the second, drawbridge being raised against the assault. “Of course not,” she said.

“Then why the hell would you give this to me?” you spat, waving the piece of paper in her face.

Wilhemina fought for a second more, before her face crumpled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, arm coming up to hug herself.

The gesture made something break in you. Some of the smoke in your brain cleared out through the crack.

“You’re a blithering idiot,” you heard yourself hiss. It sounded half-convinced, but it made Wilhemina wince anyway. “If you think I’d want that,” you added.

“And you’re as stupid as you look,” Wilhemina hissed back weakly, “if you get mad at me for trying to help you.”

“I’m mad because you seem to have such a low opinion of me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I know there are human needs, which one who is in a relationship is expected to-”

“My ‘human needs’ do not control me.”

A faint, mirthless laugh. “Of course they don’t.”

“They don’t.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right.”

Silence.

The last of your anger was fizzling out. You could still feel it crackling faintly in your upper body, but the last embers were being stifled by something colder and heavier.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

Stubbornly you held Wilhemina’s gaze, trying to look mad, but your fists were unclenching, and it was sadness – it was sadness, taking over. And with it came a sudden sense of exhaustion.

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to pretend everything was alright, close your eyes and go to sleep. And in the morning the sunshine would have driven out past mistakes, selfishness and hurt, and you would get up with a happy heart and music in your head.

Your gaze wavered. You pretended to examine the piece of paper in your hand, but your vision was swimming, and the clamminess of your palm had smudged the ink. There was a shape that must have been a zero but now looked like a battered eight, and the last two numbers you couldn’t venture to guess what they had been.

You ran your thumb over those broken remnants of Wilhemina’s neat handwriting. Wondered what she had been feeling, when she had pressed the nib of her pen on paper, and had her hand shaken at all? Some people talked with their hands, Wilhemina’s had a language of their own. They would fidget and brush and grab and claw, and they would shake – and you would hold.

Always, dear Lord, always – you had promised.

You glanced up at Wilhemina again, to find her looking back at you, tears flickering their way down her cheeks.

“Should we, er.” You paused, looking down at the floor again. “Should we have dinner?”

You weren’t sure Wilhemina would play along. But when you gathered enough courage to glance up at her, she was wiping her cheeks, and she nodded.

Wilhemina disappeared into the bathroom while you cooked pasta. Your hands moved on auto-pilot, your brain too numb and too tired to think. You were dumping bits of butter into the pasta when Wilhemina emerged, hair down and body wrapped in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, thin periwinkle nightdress you had bought her a few months ago.

The fact that she had chosen this nightdress in particular made fresh tears pool in your eyes. It felt like a peace offering, an extended hand you were only too eager to hold. You placed a plate on the table in front of her, and whispered something about her looking very nice. Wilhemina acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

She played with her food until you coaxed her into actually eating some of it, and then you took your turn in the bathroom while she did the dishes.

In front of the bed you hesitated. You didn’t know whether Wilhemina wanted you in there with her, or if she’d rather you slept on the couch, or worse, if she wanted you to drive back to your place. Would she play by the rules? You eyed her as she walked around the room rearranging things and closing the shutters, and planted herself across the bed from you.

Your gazes met. You were trying your best not to chew on your lower lip. Wilhemina’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. For a few, painfully long seconds it went on like this, until Wilhemina lifted the sheet and lay down underneath it.

You waited for her to settle and then, deciding her silence was an invitation, slipped under the sheet yourself.

Wilhemina reached out and turned off the bedside light.

Hoping you could fall asleep was stupid. Every inch of you was thrumming with nervousness. You wondered if Wilhemina could feel the quick beating of your heart, so loud it seemed to make the whole bed shake.

What time was it? You had no idea. You forced yourself to lie as still as possible, with your hands folded on your chest and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. When you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you turned on your side, facing Wilhemina.

Blue light seeped through the shutters behind her. So the sun had barely set. What had Wilhemina been thinking, when she had closed the shutters and seen the light still clinging to the sky? Had she ignored it, resigned on playing pretend, that this was a happy night with bright twinkling stars in the sky and on her left the pale halo heralding the rising of the moon? That she wasn’t bleeding inside but warm, and that sleep would find her and press a kiss to her eyelids like a gentle lover.

Wilhemina’s eyes were wide open, shining in the dark. You raised a hand, hesitated.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed.

Something growled. You were not playing by the rules. In this ideal world you and Wilhemina had silently agreed to live in, there was no need for asking. Permission was always granted. Your fingers were to press against her skin freely and there was no need for checking because everything was always fine. This was how you were supposed to play. Cheaters would be kicked out of the room.

Wilhemina shifted, settled on her side, facing you. The distance between you two was small, less than the length of your hand.

She nodded.

Your fingers grazed her shoulder first, a safe place, before moving until they reached the edge of her nightdress. They jumped over her neck to land on her chin, and then spread out, cupping her cheek.

Wilhemina leaned into your touch and let out a sigh at the familiar softness and warmth of you. She made a movement as if to shift closer to you, stopped herself. For a moment you simply stroked her cheek, and then you continued your exploration of her, hand slipping down her chin to brush past her collarbone and down between her breasts.

There had been nothing sexual about your caress, but Wilhemina reached for your hand anyway and kept it still over her heart. Her eyes met yours, sad and ashamed.

“I know, baby,” you breathed. You offered her a smile you weren’t sure she could see in the dark. Laced your fingers with hers, gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

Wilhemina bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. You pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” you breathed against her skin, before pressing another kiss on it.

The thing growled again. In the ideal world you had agreed to live in, it scolded, your hand should have slipped lower and moans should already be filling the room. But in this ideal world, one more piece of Wilhemina would be breaking, and one piece of you would start to rot.

Wilhemina draped one arm over your waist, and when you felt her tentatively nudge your collarbone with her nose, before nestling her face in the crook of your neck, when you felt her shift so that her thigh pressed against yours, nightdress riding up and her skin warm and soft, you closed your eyes to block out anything that wasn’t her and you, and the space your bodies occupied.

And how it made your heart swell, the trust her actions told of. Pressing herself against you like that, and trusting that you would be true to your words, and not seek to take it further. Or was her need for affection so strong she was willing to take the risk? You decided to believe in the former.

Your hand that had been on her heart slid up her chest and underneath her nightdress to feel more of her. You buried your face in her hair.

“I don’t mind whether we make love or not,” you whispered. You cleared your throat and said it louder, in case she hadn’t heard the first time, or had refused to hear. “I really don’t. What matters to me is that you’re happy – or at least, that you feel safe.”

Your hand started tracing lazy circles on her skin. Wilhemina’s lips pushed against the skin of your neck, nose blowing hot air on it.

“If I reacted the way I did yesterday,” you pushed on, “it was only because I got mad at what you said, and because I knew you were holding something back from me.” You swallowed, drew a nervous shape across her shoulder. “Sometimes… sometimes it gets so hard for me to control my anger. It’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you so you understand what happened. I know I never should have reacted the way I did.”

You pulled away then, determined to have her look at you before you uttered the next words. You had forgotten it was very likely she wouldn’t be able to see your expression in the dark. It seemed to you honesty shone of its own light.

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet yours. You cupped her cheek and offered her a smile. It was quivering, burdened by guilt and remorse, but it was there still.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, loudly, because you felt a whisper wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to scream the words out.

Wilhemina nodded, made to hide, to bury her face in your chest but you gently held her head up so she could look at the honesty in your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from breaking down, but her chin was trembling in your palm, and soon enough you felt tears slip down between your fingers.

Angrily you pushed your forehead against hers. “You’re not inadequate,” you breathed. “You’re not inadequate. Do you hear me?” She nodded, a sob pushing out of her just as her lips caught yours so it petered out in your mouth. You kissed her back, spoke the next words between her teeth. “I don’t think I’d ever been made love to before you. It felt nice, but you… every time you as much as touch me I feel a thousand raptures. Do you hear me?”

Her tongue pushed inside your mouth, despair making her too brutal, and she was still choking on tears and sobbing into your mouth as her hands grabbed at every part of you that she could reach. You kissed her back, hands holding her waist, until she had bit and nipped your lips swollen and stolen all the air from you and you had stolen all the air from her, and you both pulled away at the same time, breathless.

You both stayed silent as you caught your breath, blowing air into each other’s mouth. One of your hands let go of her hip to swipe at her cheeks and stroke across her brow. Wilhemina sniffed, pressed her forehead against yours again, and let go of a long, hot, moist breath.

And then, because you had agreed to tell her your failing, she agreed to share her secret with you.

She held your face in her hands and tilted it so her mouth was brushing your ear, and you reached for the sheet and pulled it over your heads to hide from the game masters and because it had always been easier for Wilhemina to communicate in complete darkness. When no one could see her and her failure, and she could stop performing for there was no one to intimidate.

She described harmless things first, the color of the dress the woman had been wearing, how the man’s arm had been wrapped around her waist. He’d been wearing glasses and her hair had been tied up.

Then she said how, when she had looked up at them, they had been laughing, their heads almost touching, and how the woman’s eyes had scanned her face first, and then the man’s. And how the woman had nodded at something the man had whispered in her ear, her lips twitching with amusement.

They had passed her and they had walked on and out of her life. And she had walked on and out, too, but her steps had faltered.

And she shouldn’t have let it, she whispered in your ear, as the air beneath the sheet grew warmer, she really shouldn’t have let it, but the laughter had sunk into her and crawled all the way up and down her, hurting everywhere – except her heart. Her heart had gone numb to protect itself.

She’d carried the weight of the laughter crawling and hurting inside her and she’d carried on her day, completing all the tasks she had had to do, and then she’d driven home, taken off her coat and accepted the cup of tea you had slipped into her hands. The laughter had still been weighing her down when you’d told her about your day and she’d tried but failed to listen, and later when she’d helped you cook dinner, forced her food to stay down, let you neglect the dishes and fled to the bathroom where she’d locked the door behind her.

She had locked the door behind her, she confessed in a small voice. Because she had been craving for solitude, because your fond smiles and worried looks and tender touches had hurt her as much as the laughter had.

And then in bed you had pressed yourself against her with a renewed promise of love and tenderness and her heart had roared back to life, crying out that this was too much, that it couldn’t handle any more. It revolted against love and desired to burn itself out. It shall step through fire and burn down to ashes and it would not allow anyone to save it.

You let her speak. Your throat was too tight to let out words anyway. Until Wilhemina sniffed and said she knew there would be more nights and days like this, and that was why she had given you Lily’s phone number – at that, your voice forced its way out to growl that you would never, it would kill you and even if you could bear it, it would kill her too and that you would never allow.

Wilhemina lowered her head and sobbed.

After you two had emerged from under the sheet, you got up to get her and you some water, and opened the window to air the room. Outside it was finally night. You looked at the dark, silent street and wondered if tonight could still be saved, after all; if it could still be made into something Wilhemina and you wouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to remember.

But then, as you lingered at the window and Wilhemina called out your name, sleepy and soft, and you turned to see her lying on her side with her arms opened, you realized tonight had already been saved. So you quickly closed the window and crossed the room to her, and breathed a “Thank you” into her hair as her arms closed around you and pulled you close.

Tag list: @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers @coconutlipss @saucy-sapphic @thesupremewife @paulsonpills @vintagepaulson @billiedeansbottom @lilypadscoven @winslctrg @simpforpaulson @venablesgirl @mckennamayfairgoode @ka-s

#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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softukiyos · 3 years

Text

of last dances and goodbyes | bang chan

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦; 𝘳𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘶, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘧𝘦𝘮!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘴𝘯𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘦𝘳 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘷𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥'𝘷𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘣𝘺𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘵𝘻.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~2.1k+

𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙗𝙮: @aegrotamograine

𝙖/𝙣: 𝘩𝘪, 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘦! 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘢 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘪 𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘭𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵. 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺! >.< 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘮𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶!

A sigh of tranquility and dejection left Chan’s lips as he stood at the edge of the balcony, the mindless chatter inside the ballroom fading into the distance at he stared at up at the stars, lost in thought.

When did the night sky start to look so dull to him? As a matter of fact, when did his eyes start to lose that childlike sparkle of innocence that shielded him from the rest of the world?

“I thought you’d be hiding here, Channie.”

Just the sound of your voice pulled him back to reality, which wasn’t any less dull and heartless at the chilly sky, “You should be inside, Your Highness,” he said, a polite edge to his voice as he turned around to face you, “The birthday girl shouldn’t be missing at her own party.”

You looked as beautiful as ever, a dazzling lavender gown trailing down your body with a soft, cashmere shawl wrapped around your bare shoulders, shielding you from the cold. The jewelry adorning your neck was priceless, brilliant, and everything Chan couldn’t give you.

“You know don’t care about me, they just want to have a reason to celebrate,” you answered with an amused smile, your heels clicking against the marble floor as you walked towards him, “Besides, I’d much rather be here with you.”

In the past, those words would’ve sent Chan’s heart spiraling into arrest. He would’ve been giddy for days, even weeks. But now, the reality was crashing onto him at a mile a minute, and he could no longer ignore the impending fracture of your once inseparable relationship.

“When do you leave? For his kingdom?” He asked, unable to hide his disdain any longer as he refused to even utter his name.

Your smile fell, and Chan almost felt guilty if he wasn’t so caught up in wallowing in his own heartbreak, “Tomorrow. Minho wanted to give me time to settle in before the...you know.”

Ah, yes. Chan knew very well what you were referring to, unfortunately for his poor little soul, “You don’t have to sugarcoat it for my sake, Your Highness,” he said with a dry smile, “Your wedding to Prince Minho should be a joyous occasion.”

“If it is so joyous as you say, why do you look so solemn?” You asked, your eyes unwavering in their steadfast nature as you met his gaze, walking closer to him.

“A joyous occasion for you, Princess,” Chan corrected himself, a tightness in his jaw as he maintained his stiff smile.

You stared at him for a moment longer, almost as if studying how long Chan will continue this farce, this falsehood of a conversation that kept you so far away from even with every physical step closer you took, “You must be angry at me.”

“I wouldn’t dare be angry at a Princess--”

“Just shut up with the stupid formalities and speak to me like a real person, dammit,” you suddenly spit out with such vitriol that even Chan felt thrown aback by your anger. When you caught sight of his shocked expression, your voice cracked as your smile broke, “You’re the only person in this palace that ever truly saw me, truly cared for me, and now I’ll have to leave this place losing you, too?”

Chan felt a horrified gasp choke up in his throat as he rushed forward without hesitation as he saw your eyes sparkling dangerously under the glow of the lamps, “Princess,” he sighed, reaching to wipe your tears with his thumb before stopping himself.

He couldn’t do such careless things anymore. You were no longer the free-spirited girl he grew up with, who flirted as she wished and loved as she desired. You were an engaged Princess with a glittering diamond ring wrapped around your middle finger and a duty to the Crown you were born into.

You ignored his internal turmoil, wiping the corners of your eyes angrily, “There wasn't any other choice, and you know it. You know what kind of position they almost found us in. If I hadn't agreed to this—”

“They would've taken off my head,” Chan finished dully, almost tired of hearing it by now. He was tired of arguing, tired of still thinking himself to be free of any wrongdoing, “An execution for a knight who simply did his duty and loved his princess too much.”

Your silence was the only agreement you could bear to offer.

“I would’ve accepted it, you know,” he continued, chuckling mirthlessly as he looked up at the sky once again, “I would’ve been willing to die for you, for us.”

“But I couldn’t bear that,” you croaked out, the thought of it twisting the knife further into your weak heart as you stared at Chan, “You know I can’t bear to see you suffer for me.”

“Dying would’ve been less painful,” he finally hissed, eyes blazing as he clenched his jaw, trying to regain control again, “Dying would be less painful than seeing you marry another person.”

But at that, you only shook your head, “You’re wrong, Channie. It will hurt, I won’t doubt that it will, especially since it’s been tearing me apart the same way, but you’ll move on from me. You’ll find a pretty lady and you’ll fall head over heels for her, and you will be happy again.”

Chan felt his heart effectively splinter into tiny pieces as he reached for your face again, this time bearing to brush his fingers against your cheek tentatively, “I don’t want to move on,” he whispered as if the walls and the vines would carry his words back to the King and Queen, “My heart has been yours since the beginning, Princess—please—”

“This is the only way, Channie,” you spoke just as softly, holding his hand in your own as you gazed at him with such love and desperation, and he realized with horror that you were pressing something into his palm. The little teddy bear charm he’d given you when you went off on your first foreign trip. You’d clutched it to your chest every night, clinging onto it for comfort and imagining that you were burrowed in Chan’s strong arms again. But now, it was time to give it back to its original owner.

Just then, the next lighthearted waltz began to ring from inside the ballroom, filling your ears with a gentle music, too kind and loving for the conversation you were having. But maybe that was what you both needed. Kindness. Forgiveness. Love.

“My darling knight,” you whispered, lacing your fingers together as you leaned your forehead against his. No one was watching, and this might be your last chance to speak to him, to feel him so close against you, “Dance with me.”

Chan shook his head, being childish for once in his life. He didn't want to dance with you. He didn't want to say goodbye. He knew what was going to happen; when the waltz finished, you'd no longer be his, his love, his sweetheart.

“Please,” you asked softly, gazing at him with such sadness and love that it was all Chan could do to not burst into tears, “Please let me leave tomorrow knowing that I was loved by someone. Please let me show you how much I love you.”

Slowly, he reached for your hand, and with an arm around your waist, the two of you swayed gently to the music wafting out from the ballroom, thinking and looking at no one but each other. Chan was the first person you ever danced with, the person whose toes you’d stepped on an unholy amount of times and the first person you’d thrown a temper tantrum at when you screwed up the footwork for the fourth time in a row.

And you, you were Chan’s first and only love. He stood by your side since he was only seven years old, a homeless orphan taken in by one of the royal knights under your father’s command. Since the moment he’d met you, cheeks puffed out with indignation as you walked around with the king, he’d been enamoured by your spirit, vowing to safeguard it for as long as he was physically capable.

It had only been a matter of time better the two of you fell in love.

As the music swelled in the present, Chan felt his inhibitions slowly ebb away with the music. He lifted you into the air, a smile creeping onto his lips as you began to smile. Giggles were exchanged as you purposely stepped on his toes.

“Hey,” he said pointedly, eyeing you, “I know you don’t do that on accident anymore.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said with an innocent expression before the two of you dissolved into giggles once more and continued to dance, spinning and twirling to your hearts content.

Chan found himself smiling as he haphazardly spun with you, twisting both of your arms and making you laugh. You found yourself smacking his chest more than a few times as he added cheeky dips and twirls that would’ve made your dance teacher faint in abject horror.

The two of you danced and danced until, like a painful pinch to your skin, the music ended as suddenly as it began, and the clumsy yet heart-wrenchingly endearing waltz was over. Chan felt his bright smile morph into something more peaceful as he held your waist, held you close as his heart pounded. Could you feel it? Probably, and if you couldn’t feel it you’d still know anyway. He could tell that you knew, just from the way you looked at him, so unrestrained and filled to the brim with love that you could never express with words or actions. It was always in your eyes.

His gaze fell to your soft lips and his heart skipped a beat. He wished he could kiss you, he wanted to kiss you. If he didn’t now, he’d never get the chance again.

It must’ve been his lucky day, because you seemed to be thinking the same thing. Like clockwork, the two of you fell into each other’s embrace as Chan shifted, pressing you against the marble railing of the balcony as his broad shoulders shielded you from the windows and any other nosy onlookers.

“Princess,” he murmured, his nose almost brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered closed, being pulled towards your knight as if an invisible force was pushing you forward.

“Dearest!”

A shrill voice called from the door to the balcony, and the two of you froze in fear, your hands stopping from where they’d crept up to Chan’s neck. The man reacted immediately, moving away from you as if burned, even though the two of you were behind a few well placed bushes that there was no way she could see either of you.

It hurt you more than you could explain, even though you were the one who had to reap what you’d sowed.

“Yes, mother?” You called in response, fixing your hair as you stayed hidden from her piercing gaze.

“Are you done stargazing? Your fiancé is looking for you!”

Chan flinched as if he’d been physically slapped. Ah, yes. The moment was so blissful for a few minutes that he’d almost forgotten the current situation. He wasn’t supposed to be even a feet near you, and you were supposed to be carted off to your husband’s kingdom at dawn.

You sucked in a breath, throwing Chan a pained glance before answering, “Can it wait?”

“I don’t think it can, dearest. He’s already postponed the toast for quite a while to give you the space you wanted!” Even from a distance, you could hear your mother’s sharp exasperation, “Can’t you just come in? Don’t make a fuss, Y/N.”

Chan wanted you to say no, to scoff right at your mother’s face and stick your tongue out before running away petulantly. That was what the little you would’ve done, and Chan was always the one that had to pick up the pieces, bowing profusely to your parents before following you.

But unfortunately for the both of you, those times had passed, and you were no longer the immature little girl he’d grown up with. He could see it in the way you straightened your posture almost imperceptibly, the way your gaze towards him grew sad. You were going back in to your fiancé, your future.

With one last squeeze of his hand, you pulled away from him and headed back into the ballroom, turning your back on your past, your childhood that was filled with nothing but innocence and Chan--so much Channie this, Channie that.

And as Chan stood alone in the shadows, out of sight and out of your life, he let out a bitter chuckled, clutching the little charm so tightly in his fist that he was afraid it might crack.

He didn’t even get to kiss you one last time.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids reactions #stray kids x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #skz x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan blurbs #stray kids blurbs #stray kids angst #stray kids fluff #dream type: drabbles

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heyheyloki · 4 years

Text

Why Stop Now

Summary: Reid starts getting jealous when witnesses start to hit on the reader.

Spencer Reid x M!Reader

Word Count: 2677

The case before the BAU team was getting tedious, to say the least. It was one of those cases that needs witnesses to actually get a step ahead of the unsub who left basically no evidence behind. It was surely pissing off the team, but it pissed you off the most. You were someone who needed control, someone who couldn’t stand the taunts of others. That was profiled about you when you first joined, but you didn’t have a probably showing that side of you off at times. So, at that point it was just a simple fact that surrounded your complex personality.

“This shit sucks,” You hissed out as you slammed your hands against the table, looking at the pictures of the victims. Searching eyes hoping, praying that you had for once missed something. “This is seriously pissing me off.”

“You know you didn’t miss anything. I don’t know why you’re looking at them.” A voice called out from behind you. The footsteps they took now clear as day as you watched Spencer Reid come to your side.

“You’re only going to stress yourself out.” He said in a sweet, mellow tone that made you take in a few deep breaths.

“I know,” you uttered out before turning to him. One hand still on the table to hold your weight. “I just want to help these girls and I can’t do that until I find more things out about our unsub.”

Reid’s face leaned to the side a bit. A small frown on his lips as he stared at you with soft, kind eyes. “I know you do, but you aren’t going to get anything more from them.”

You press your lips together, frustrated at the situation before you. “So what? I have to wait for another woman to die to catch this son of a bitch?

Reid looks down for a moment before saying softly, “Well, we have another witnesses in here, Hotch asked me to come find you.”

“Again?” You asked in a groan. “Please don’t tell me they’re gonna make goggly eyes more at me than actually answer the questions.”

“That’s why Hotch asked me to get you. He wants you to ask them some questions.” Reid informed you. “I’ll stay with you, if you want.”

You gave a soft smile at the taller male before you pressed your hand against his shoulder, rolling it down before making soft motions with your thumb against his chest. “You’re sweet. I appreciate it, Spence.”

He nodded his head, grabbing your hand that flushed against him. He squeezed it a few times as you watched the most faint blush you’ve seen on him appear against his pale cheeks. It was heart-warming that you were still able to make him blush the way he does by such a simple expression of affection, especially since you’ve been together for a little more than a couple of months now.

“It’s no problem.” He stated before quickly leaning in and planting a soft kiss against your cheek. A giggle immediately coming from your chest as soon as you felt his hot lips against your cool skin. In all honestly, physical contact at work between the two of you was never a thing. Even by if it was just the two of you at yours or Spence’s place, the most you guys did was a kiss here or a few cuddles there. And honestly, you had to make the moves a couple of times given Spencer and his issue with physical contact. He did get used to your touch fairly quickly though, and he enjoyed it.

When you both approached the witnesses that was sitting near your desk, she looked you up and down, the look in her orbs pure lust. She was a short woman with voluptuous build. She wore a simple white crop top, sporting high waist jeans. It was obvious what kinda aura she gave off. It was both responsible, yet at the same time, someone who liked to have fun.

The ends of her lips quickly churning up at the side of you. Her legs quickly crossed over one another, her mouth slightly open as she chewed her gum.

Spence immediately read her like a book, but he tried not to show his growing irritation. He knew you were good-looking, and he knew people would look. Though, it was just annoying at how much it was happening at one day. Especially at work.

“Hello, ma’am.” You said with a smile before introducing yourself. Your hand then gesturing to your boyfriend before saying, “And this is Doctor Spencer Reid. We’ll be taking your statements today.”

The lady didn’t respond at first, but instead take in your handsome features for a moment before saying, “You can take a lot more then just my statement, baby.”

You gave a soft chuckle as you cupped the back of your neck. It did catch you a bit off guard, but not so much any more since this has been happening for around three hours now. You did, for some reason unknown to you, look over at Spence. The look in his eyes made you frown. It wasn’t anger, but rather, extreme discomfort.

“Right,” you hummed out before sitting on the edge of your desk. Spence taking a step to move closer to your side.

“Can you take me from the beginning? What did you see?” You asked in a stern toning, telling her not to play around anymore.

Her eyes played with yours for a moment before agreeing to answer your questions. It was okay at first, she didn’t seem all that distracted like the others before with your presence, but after getting mid-way into her story, her hand started to dance along your desk. It was obvious how close it was getting to your thigh, both to Spencer and you.

It was like a spider trying to go after its prey. Overall, it was uncomfortable, but you knew you had to focus on her story before even thinking about her hand. It’s one thing if it was just approaching, but another if it actually touches you.

“I mean, the dude was weird, sure, but I didn’t think he’d be kidnapping and killin’ girls, yanno?” She asked, her fingers creeping their way across on your outter thigh.

Your body flinched on instinct for just a moment before you immediately moved your leg, now standing up next to Spence. You could see the small disappointment in her face, but you could honestly care less. You got her story, so now you were finished. At least, that’s what you thought.

“Thanks again, ma’am.” You stated with a kind smile for Hotchner’s sake. You then took out your card that held your number and name, moving it in her direction as you said, “If you think of anything else, doesn’t hesitate to call.”

She gazed at the card for a second before taking it. And while normal people would take it right away, she held on and swiftly moved her hand to touch your own. Her thumb moving in circle, suggestive movement along the top of your hand. You didn’t know if she caught on that you already were taken and trying to do it discreetly since the card was in the way, or just doing it for the fun of it.

“Believe me, sugar, you’ll get a call from me.” She stated in a seductive tone. “You don’t mind some calls at, well, before bedtime, right?”

Then, she did that and it was like everything stopped. Both for Spence and you.

She smirked.

It was one of those smirks that really made something turn within you that was pure fear mixed with uneasiness. The uneasiness coming from your wonder on how Spence was doing. You knew he had trust in you, as you did him. Though, even you would break under all this reckless flirting. Especially at the work place where it was unprofessional to engage in public displays of affection.

“No, sorry, ma’am.” You stated sternly. Your face devoid of any sweetness you might have shown before. “Please, just anything related to this case and nothing else.”

You watched carefully as a bitter sense took her over before she stood up abruptly and said, “Fine.”

And with that, she left. Honestly, you felt so relived that you let out a deep sigh from your lips, unaware of how much air you kept built up in your lungs.

“Glad that’s over,” you huffed out. Your body turning to face Spence, your mouth hanging out a bit to speak once more. Though, when you saw his face, it was like your veins became invaded with ice. You couldn’t move, and if you did, you felt like you’d break.

His eyes blasted directly into yours, almost completely shutting down your sharp-mouthed tongue that got you into trouble with Hotch frequently. They didn’t carry anger, nor sadness. It was something that made your chest tighten, knees completely weak. It made your heart skip a beat, almost breaking a rib with how hard it pounded for that split moment.

“Spence?” You mumbled out. “Something wrong?”

“They kept making passes at you,” he uttered out. His voice barely even audible.

“They did.” You stated. You didn’t know where this was going.

“And I was right here. Right in front of them. Next to you. It was like they didn’t even care if they were making a move on you while I was around.” Spence ranted on, his tone of voice growing more and more irritated as he went one.

“Spence, I don’t think she even knew I was dating someone. Much less having that person be standing right next to me.” You explained kindly. You get how he felt, you did. So, you just planned on trying to make him feel better in any way you could.

Though, as you were about to step forward and maybe grab his hand to reassure him that everything was still alright, he moved first. His tall figure stood right in front of you, barely even a foot away. His face slowly inching towards you despite where you both were.

“Come with me for a second,” he whispered, his hand slowly moving down your arm, that feeling alone causing goosebumps to graze your skin before he held your hand within his.

“Okay.” You agreed, wondering what you were even doing.

He didn’t even have a smile perk up on his lips when you agreed, but instead stared you up and down. Slowly, carefully his eyes traveled your body. You shied your head away as you let Spence lead you into the changing rooms the officers use in the morning after their shift was over.

You noticed Spence make sure no one was inside before his long, slender fingers locked the door. You couldn’t help but remain still, trying to wrap your head around his sudden change in demeanor. You knew he was jealous, it was obvious to anyone. But it was odd at the same time since he was never one to start much of anything, still, in the end when he backed you into the lockers, you weren’t complaining much.

“Spence, you sure?” You mumbled under your breath as you flickered your eyes between his own and those soft lips that slowly approached yours.

He didn’t answer you with words, but instead gave you answer when he pressed his lips against your own. You were quick to wrap your arms around his neck, taking one of your hands and lacing it through his long, curly locks and the other resting on the base of his jaw. You thought it would be a few sweet kisses and than back to work, maybe even some jealous words, but the moment he started to play with the end of your shirt you knew this was going in a completely different direction.

To keep his lips to yours you moved your hand that rested on his jaw over to his own, guiding his hand under your clothes. You groaned into the kiss at the sudden chill that ran up your spine when your hot skin collided with his rather chilly fingertips. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that made you desire more.

When he got the hint that you were okay with his touch, you noticed how quick the atmosphere changed. Within mere seconds he started to push himself more against you, giving you little room to escape with your back flat against the lockers and him on you as well.

Spencer’s hand start to slide more up your body, feeling every inch of you that he desired. His touch was both full of affection yet the lust you noticed as well was undeniable. It was as if he revealed something that he had kept hidden within himself for a long time now, and you were happy that he felt like he could share that side of himself with you.

Though, as the sinful urges started to start showing their true colors, the need for air started to dominate. When Spencer unlocked his lips from your own, your breath got stuck in your throat. The look in his eyes was nothing to just brush off as passion. It was like something darker took over, something that he needed to chain down almost all the time. His chestnut orbs held a film over them that was swirling with red, as well as a need that only you could fulfill.

In a swift movement, Spence’s head moved lower, his lips aiming at something different this time around. A soft gasp escaped past you when you felt his lips latch onto your neck, kissing, biting, and sucking at your skin. It felt good, so good that you suddenly moved one of your legs up and wrapped it around his hips. His free hand that wasn’t exploding your body gripped onto your thigh, holding it in place.

The more he ravished you, the louder you got. At first it was simple heavy breathing but you swore he was aiming at all of the weak spots on your neck and collarbones that turned you into a mess before him. Though, you didn’t think you were so loud for him to suddenly growl, “Try to keep quiet. We don’t want to get caught.”

Your eyes widened a bit before you leaned your head to the side shyly. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not like I don’t enjoy hearing you,” he mumbled, his words peaking with more embarrassment than a pure teasing tone.

You nodded, your hands moving down his back and gripping hard onto his shirt as you allowed yourself to be swallowed up by the pleasure he was giving you. You really don’t remember how much time passed, maybe a few minutes, maybe ten. Still, by the time both of you calmed down and made sure to get your fill from the other, someone started to knock on the locked door.

Both of you two looked at each other, some fear running through your orbs before hearing the familiar voice of Derek Morgan say, “If you two don’t hurry up, Hotch will find out and get mad.”

“Shit,” you groaned as you tried your hardest to flatten out your now disheveled shirt.

“Sorry about that,” Spence said shyly as he scratched the back of his head, wondering if he should try to help you or not.

You let out a deep sigh before planting a soft kiss on Spence’s cheek, his face heating up in a mere seconds. “It’s okay. C’mon, we should get back to work.”

“Right..” His voice trailed off in a shy manner, his fingers lacing with yours once more as he returned the favor. This time, placing a soft and chaste kiss upon your lips. It was full of love and affection, something that made you hum lovingly into.

“Hopefully we don’t get anymore witnesses.” You groaned as you walked ahead, flattening your hair.

Spence couldn’t help but laugh at your words before following behind you back into the professional setting. Luckily for the both of you, Hotch never found out, or he made it seem like he had no idea. Still, you had your doubts since Morgan and Garcia were almost relentless in teasing your boyfriend and you for a straight week.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x male reader #male reader #x male reader

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

Arranged hearts ch.1

Kylo Ren x reader

Requested by anon “Can I request a fluff kylo ren x reader where they are already married (bc she was forced, but she accepted) and she has a secret that she hasn’t told kylo, and that is she has the darksaber and she’s force sensitive, and so one day someone comes up to the reader and challenges her so they can have the saber, she accepts and kylo is forced to watch and she wins and I don’t know what happens in end you can decide.”

A/N- Let me know what you thought...I really liked this request and I think this could be a nice series :)

Warning- Violence, some fluff, talks of blood, swearing, angst

———-

There had been secrets you had withheld from Kylo Ren. Important secrets that you didn’t plan on sharing with him because of the dilemma you were forced to be put into.

Not like marrying him has been much of a problem. At first he was intimidating, he was a big man, dressed in overly dark clothes with a cracked lightsaber in hand, and a dark reputation. But once you were at his side, living in his star destroyer, he was quiet, he let you have your own space and didn’t pester you.

Kylo, like you, never wanted to get married. You both didn’t want this forced life, but you had to live it.

But it’s because of your reserved life that you fell into the problem you did.

A knock sounded on your door and you hesitated to open it, you knew exactly who it was, he was the only one whoever came to your door. So you walked towards the door, but stopped as you let your hand hover over the control board and talked to him from behind the door. “Leave! I don’t want to talk to you.”

There's a moment of silence outside the door, it lets you believe that he had walked away, but then his fist pounds on the door and you prove yourself wrong. “Open the door, y/n!”

You drop your hand back to your side and shake your head even if you knew he couldn’t see it. “No, go away!”

“I’ll ask one more time before I force this door open. So open it, or I will!”

You hesitate again and rest your forehead on the door, clenching your fist and letting out a deep sigh. You drop your eyes to the ground and see his shadow peeking through the doorway creak. You have the growing urge to walk off and see if he’d actually do it, but at the last minute you decide to go easy on him. “You could ask nicer!”

You hear Kylo’s frustrated sigh outside the door, but he nonetheless decides to play along with you through gritted teeth. “Open. The. Door. Please.”

Pushing yourself away from the door, you push a single button to open the door, seeing his tall looming figure stiffly standing before you with an upset scowl on his features. You cross your arms over your chest and raise a brow to question his intentions. “What do you want? I'm busy.”

“You lied,” he sneered bitterly, stomping towards you and making you step back so his chest won’t collide with yours. “Your family, and you lied to me.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and narrowed your gaze on his dark eyes, feeling his anger radiate off him like strong waves, but not knowing what it was he was accusing you about. “What are you talking about?”

“The Darksaber you possess, the fact that you’re force-sensitive.” He seethed.

You scoff at his comment and instead of continuing to back away, you stand your ground and pierce your gaze into him. “Why do you think I was forced to come to this hell of a place? To leave my life behind and marry a man I hate?! It’s obvious that I’m force sensitive, I never lied, you’ve just never taken your time to get to know me. Or know why I, out of all the other eligible women in my clan, was chosen to marry you.” You frustratedly point at his chest.

Kylo swallows thickly and simply keeps his eyes on you without a word to be shared. Letting you ask once again for his intentions. “Are you here for something, or are you here just to piss me off?”

Kylo clenches his jaw and finally tears his eyes away from you to answer. “A Mandalorian is looking for you. To challenge you for that darksaber.”

You hum in comprehension and shove past him to pull out a big silver case from under the bed. You place it onto top of the bed and throw the lid open to reveal the darksaber hilt on top of your black Mandalorian armor. Feeling chills travel down your spine at the feeling of the cold metal under your fingertips, feeling your breath hitch at how strange it felt to look at the armor that you once used to wear it with pride often.

Now you don’t wear it. Now you see it and feel sad at the life you had to leave behind. Your eyes drift to the darksaber and you feel the same way.

Even then...with your current feelings, you couldn’t let yourself lose the Darksaber. For as long as you could, you’ll stay a warrior. No one was going to take that from you. No matter where you were.

“Tell them I’ll be challenging them,” you tell Kylo over your shoulder as you take out your armor. You look back to what you’re doing and expect him to move out the door, but he only steps towards you and snatch’s the armor from your hand to place it back and swiftly turn you around.

“Do you have a death wish? You won’t be doing anything.”

You pull your wrist away from his grip and scoff as you turn back to start putting on the armor, feeling his presence and hearing his heavy breaths behind you. And that makes you groan and snap at him in a less venomous tone. “You have that little faith in my skill as a Mandalorian?” You turn on your heels to sit back on the edge of your bed and begin placing the armor on your legs. “Or am I to believe that you’re worried for my well-being?” You quirk your eyebrow and smirk as he only manages to part his lips in disbelief. “Go….please.”

He hesitates for a moment as he mentally debates with himself, but he listens nonetheless and leaves you to prepare for the fight that awaited you. That made your stomach knot tightly together. That made every move you made, every step you took feel heavy, as if something was weighing you down. When you finally came to a stop in front of the needed room, the realization hit you that much harder, just as the rush of adrenaline shot through your blood. You extended your hands out and barely touched the door before you paused and drew in a deep shaky breath that you released as you pushed the doors open.

When you step inside the room, there in the middle of the arena was the Mandalorian in the blue armor that was looking for you; their attention on Kylo and his knights as they were in the room too.

“I heard you're looking for me.” You make yourself known to the Mandalorian, instantly gaining their attention and seeing them turn to face you.

“Yes, or really the object currently in your possession.” They say in a deep, soft voice modified by their helmet. “It belongs to me.”

You express a feigned chuckle and slowly walk to the edge of the arena, stopping to shake your head and add, “it belongs to the champion that rightfully earned it.”

“What use do you have of it from here? You can’t rule Mandalore from here,” they point out as they slowly make their way towards you, whilst they lift their hands to pull off their helmet and reveal a beautiful, tan, round faced woman, with dark brown eyes. “You can’t lead a squadron of your own people into battle. It’s better off with me.”

You lift your hands to pull off your own helmet and then use a gloved hand to pull out the Darksaber hilt and show it to her, with a glowering gaze set on her. “I guess this fight will determine that, right?”

“Right,” she agreed confidently, looking behind her to briefly glance at the man glaring at her. “You remember the rules right?” She questioned as she looked back at you. “No one can step in to help you. Just a one on one fight to determine the champion.”

“Right.” You agree bluntly before you continue for her. “The loser is determined if they’re killed, or if I’m disarmed, and or if either one of us falls off the arena.”

“Right.” She nods, wrapping her hand around the hilt whilst she puts her helmet at the same time you do too. You then proceed to pull the hilt away from her to both move to the middle of the arena.

Before rise the arena, you look at Kylo to warn him of one rule he needed to follow. “Whatever happens, don't step in.” Without waiting for a response you weren’t going to get, you look back to the Mandalorian in front of you to use the force to lift the arena a couple feet off the floor, uncovering the transparisteel above your heads and around you to show the red and orange hued nebula the ship was slowly passing. You can’t help admire it for a couple seconds before you look back at your opponent and step back to get in a fighting stance.

Your thumb hovers over the activation button, and your eyes watch as she pulls out two beskar made swords, and a foot slides forward. You smirk and ignite the darksaber, showing off the buzzing black and white blade while the hues casted on your dark visor. Neither of you move, your fingers just tighten around your hilts and your visors burn into each other.

It’s not until she becomes desperate that she makes the first move, flipping both swords in her hands and lunging at you at full speed, missing nonetheless as you throw your head back and slide under her swing, and swiftly turn around on your heels to face her. She hastily proceeds to continue her fight, running at you while you stood to your given height and met her halfway, swinging your darksaber to clash the blade on her own; not hesitating to try and push each other back, trying to get either of one closer to the edge, but not gaining any ground and ending up tied.

Instead she continues to pull back and tries to catch you off guard by swinging her blades hastily at you, each time getting met with a loud clash as the blades hit, each time getting closer to the edge. She doesn’t take long to notice that last fact though, and uses her leg to kick you back, moving quickly thereafter to hurl another kick at your chest that sends you another foot back. The Mandalorian doesn’t fret and swings at your throat, but her blade misses by inch as you use the force to push her back.

“I won this Darksaber rightfully last time,” you share with a growl, “I’ll do it again.” You easily flip the hilt in your hand and try to stab the unprotected part of her stomach, but she’s quick and flips to the side, swinging her feet to sweep you off your feet and then crawl to go on top of you and pin both of your hands down to the ground.

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” she snaps, pulling away one hand to pull a dagger from her sheath hidden in her belt. “That Darksaber belongs to me.”

You shoot her a pointed gaze and scoff. “Mandalore has a great ruler on the throne, I’m not going to let a wannabe Queen destroy the peace we took so long to fight for.”

“You don’t know what our people need,” she hisses as she stabs the silver dagger on your side, causing your grip to loosen and a pained groan to escape.

“Fuck,” you sneer, hissing again as she pulls out the blade and then tries to snatch the Darksaber; only feeling the hilt brush her fingertips before you reinforce your grip and swing the blade over the front of her helmet, using the force to then throw her off of you and send her crashing to the ground a few feet away.

When you try to stand up blinding pain shoots at your side, but you shake it off. You have to. So instead you ignore the throbbing and the bleeding and stride towards her, seeing her jump to her feet and sprint at you, using her jetpack to gain momentum off the ground and fly directly towards you. As shes inches from you, she gets a hold of your collar and manages to lift you inches off the ground, dragging your feet on the floor and trying to literally throw you off stage.

Albeit before she could attempt such foolish action, you flip your Darksaber to hold it with a backhand hold and swing to gash the unprotected part of her stomach, feeling her hand let go seconds before she dropped to the ground because of the pain. Not like it stops her from fighting back as you try to get up, grabbing the back of your neck and slamming your head the ground, repeating her action until you throw your hand up and snatch her hand away, trying to stand up, but feeling her hands wrap around your ankles and use what strength she had to pull you back down.

The Mandalorian then crawls on top of you to try and use her other dagger to slash your throat, but you throw your fist to the side to punch her throat, lifting your legs to flip her overhead and then hastily get on top of her to bring the Darksaber hilt over throat—“try anything and you’ll die.”

She tilts her head and snickers, “don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” Without a moment to spare, or feeling bad for herself, she copies your move and uses her legs to flip you over. Only you flipped over the edge of the arena, barely managing to use your free hand to hang on by the edge—“You were a good opponent, so the story will be worth telling. I’ll do you justice.”

You clench your jaw at the feeling of her fingernails digging into your wrist, and then slide to hold you by your fingertips. She cockily lifts her helmet above her lips to show off her smirk, but it’s in that moment that you surprise her by swinging forward to then flip back onto the stage once you can.

The Mandalorian looks back at you, she flips over, but that’s when you pounce on her and step on her wound to lean forward and shoot her a remark. “You were a good opponent.”

The Mandalorian wants to let out a pained scream, but holds herself back and expresses a groan instead, trying to reach for her dagger, but missing by hair as you grab her by the throat and dangle her in the air, above the ground below before you stab her jet pack and let go so she could hit the floor, and you could be the winner.

The light of the nebula passes, leaving the room dark as you use the force to reconnect the arena to the ground, seeing once the white lights turned on, Kylo looking at you with no readable expression on his face. His knights on the other hand appear to be more proud of your win as they clapped for you. Before you could walk to them though, you walk to the Mandalorian and offer heryour hand to help her up. She takes it and offers you a stiff but understanding nod.

“There's a medical wing just down the hall, go, they’ll help with your wound.”

She nods stiffly again and congratulates you in Mando’a before she does as you say, leaving you alone with the Knights and Kylo.

You remove your helmet, and deactivate the saber to hang it back on your side and offer them a small smirk before you add a comment, “I accept praises, and I’m free to help any of you train. I'm here everyday.” You smirk wider. “I also will fight anyone who challenges me, but don’t expect me to play nice.” You slide your eyes over to meet Kylos dark and attentive ones, before you sigh and turn to leave the room to patch yourself up. Not at all expecting him to follow so close behind.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room,” you answer him while you grip onto your wound. “I need to clean this wound.” You intend to just leave that as it is, but then you have the urge to add more as your guilt begins to weigh you down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t say the truth before,” you continue, glancing to the side to see him fall by your side and look at you as you apologized to him for the first time. “My family was going to say something, but I told them I would, and I obviously never did...I’m sorry.” You take a turn towards your room, wait for the doors to open to walk in and make a beeline towards your first aid equipment, hearing Kylo stop in the middle of the room and surprisingly speaking up to apologize.

“I...should’ve talked to you too.”

You swallow thickly and after you pull out the first aid, you turn to meet his gaze and offer him a faint smile. “We’re both at fault.”

He nods stiffly and he shifts to turn away and leave, but he instead hesitates, turning his head back to look at you and part his lips to hesitate briefly again before he spoke up in a quieter voice. “Can I help you?”

You look at the first aid in your hands and glance at your wound before your eyes bounce back to him and you nod slowly. “Yeah...sure.” You guide him to your bathroom and set everything down so he could help you, watching him wash his hands as you took off your armor and peeled off your shirt to show the wound, hissing slightly as the material of the shirt swept past the bleeding area.

“I think” he continued as he turned off the faucet and stepped towards you. “You did good, fighting that other Mandalorian. Your fighting skills surprised me.”

You scoff and feel your lips twitch. “That’s because you’ve never seen me fight.”

“That’s true,” he agreed while he closed the gap between you and got out the needed supplies to begin and stitch your wounds. “Maybe you could come train with me,” his dark eyes lift to meet yours and he swallows thickly before he looks away again. “If you want.”

You draw in a small breath and stay silent for a brief moment before you hold back your smile as you answer. “Sure, that sounds nice.”

Their was still some part of you that felt disgusted at the thought of being trapped in this piece of sky trash, of having to suffer through this arranged marriage for the alliance of your clan and the first order, but maybe...just maybe there was a flicker of hope within your heart that ignited the thought that Kylo and you could work this out and be a real couple. One that really appreciated each other...that loved each other.

It needed to work that way, for both of your sakes.

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

i have been laughing for like an hour at that one post about Macaque with hiccups so. what if like. drabble about that with idk prompts number 9 and 72 i guess???

Anon, you have NO IDEA how much I loved this post by @animemoonprincess , I have been wanting to write something using this idea for so long. I just wanted to write silly goofy "Mac can't control his powers when he has hiccups" fic for a while and this was so much fun!

How long have you been standing there?/Don’t you dare.

"And... how long as this been going on?" Pigsy asked, torn between shaking his head in disbelief and worry and holding back laughter at the sight before him. He honestly felt kinda bad for wanting to laugh, but after all the stunts the immortal monkey had put himself and his friends through... he allowed himself a few chuckles.

"Three-hic-HOURS!" Macaque snapped, laying flat on his chest and gripping the sides of the table in front of him with a scowl. "I can't take i-hic-it anymore, you have to have some-hic-thing to make them STOP!"

Each hiccup made Macaque's tail bristle and fluff up, as if each one startled him, and made his glamor glitch awkwardly. If that was the best way to put it.

"Mac, you look miserable," Mei said, holding back her own laughter as she looked up something on her phone.

"I am," he said, uncharacteristic honest for the moment... but then again, it wasn't like he could hide this fact.

"Don't I know that feeling," MK offered in solidarity, patting the immortal monkey on the back and wincing when another stronger hiccup made Macaque jump.

They had all wondered why he was wearing a cloak and avoiding them for the last hour when he finally showed his face, only hearing the hiccups coming from him and seeing the way he jumped ever so slightly with them. He'd stayed as close to light as much as he could, very unusual for himself, and tried to just go about what his initial mission was (which was apparently getting some ice water in the hopes it would help alleviate his symptoms).

And then he has hiccuped just a little too hard at the wrong moment and managed to fall through Sandy's shadow and into the lower levels of the drone ship.

To say they were all grateful the ship wasn't flying at the moment and that he was on the upper level was an understatement... even if he would have survived the fall. Being immortal the way he was.

Right now he was in the ship's kitchen with the rest of their little group (minus Wukong who had seemingly vanished to... wherever it was he liked to hide), gripping the table as stated before to presumably not fall through a misplaced shadow again in the overly brought room, and looking... well...

He was blue. Literally, his hair had turned blue. Then he hiccuped and it became an odd shade that looked like his own mixed with stripes of Wukong's hair color. His eye that had a glamor over it changed color every other hiccup as well, and so did the color of his outfit (though he didn't normally have a glamor over that he couldn't control what glamors were put up or taken down it seemed).

The next hiccup was followed by a soft whimper of frustration as his two ears became six before their eyes. And that... made Pigsy pause.

"Does this hurt you?" Sandy took the initiative to ask, raising an eyebrow of concern.

Whatever laugher was about to bubble up from the group surrounding Macaque paused instantly once he brought up the possibility. MK in particular paused, a look of realization and slight guilt dawning on his face.

"No..." Macaque started slowly, seeming to think over his next words carefully before he sighed in defeat and face planted into the table. "But -hic-... it is very -hic- uncomfortable," the other admitted after, his ears changing color from completely normal to a rainbow on either side. "Imagine feeling the -hic- chest spasms but in what-hic-ever part of your body changes. And it's -hic- really tiring to have my -hic- powers activate like this."

Well... that was actually moderately concerning. Not dangerous sounding, exactly, but Pigsy could imagine how much this was affecting the other when the last hiccup made whatever glamor over the dark circles under his eyes fade away. They all knew that Macaque was hardly sleeping but this...

"Well," Mei said cheerily, jumping up from her seat and waving her phone. "I have a few idea on how we can get rid of these that are less dangerous than finding a rare flower that blooms under very specific circumstances. What have you tried already?"

To say they had been unsuccessful was an understement. They’d tried nearly everything they could think of.

Macaque had tried holding his breathe again, breathing exercises, drinking the ice water he had left his room to get. Sandy had suggested compressing his chest with his knees, but that hadn't worked either. Pigsy had brought him some ice to chew on with much the same result.

Mei's idea of eating a lemon slice or swallowing a spoonful of sugar, while creative, were even less well received when they did not work. There were other methods she found online that she immediately vetoed, no one wanted to anger the immortal by attempting to tickle them away (not after his snarled "Don’t you dare.")

MK's attempt at scaring them away was... laughable. Literally, instead of scaring Macaque the young man just sent him into a fit of laughter that only seemed to make him both even more exhausted and grateful for the short bit of amusement.

"Well now what?" Tang asked, checking off each attempt on a sheet of paper. "We've tried almost everything."

Macaque hiccuped again, groaning in exhaustion and covering one of his eyes with his cloak hood up to hide... whatever was on his face he didn't want anyone to see. No one said anything about it, the sight of the other making them just feel too bad for him to push the issue for the moment.

"Maybe if I pass out from -hic- exhaustion they'll stop," he almost slurred, leaning even harder against the table. He had been dealing with this for 4 hours with little to no relief sight. He looked awful. "Just let me pass -hic- out."

"No way!" Pigsy said firmly, helping Mei look up more cures on her phone. "What if they don't stop? You could fall through the floor again and we are not having-!"

Pigsy never got to finish that sentence because one second Macaque was alone at the table looking miserable.

The next Wukong was standing behind him and jabbed two of his fingers on either side of his neck.

"WHAT THE HELL!?" Macaque snapped after a yell of pain, breathing heavy as he clutched his chest and glowered at the Monkey King. "How long have you been standing there, Wukong!?"

"Only long enough to know that all of you didn't see me," Wukong said with a smirk, gesturing with his hand to the other immortal. "Hmn... sounds... awful quiet now... don't you think?"

Macaque paused, a look of confusion crossing his face before he realized... he wasn't hiccuping anymore. He stayed quiet for a moment, everyone did...

And no sound came aside from everyone's breathing.

"That actually worked!" MK shouted in relief, moving to hug Macaque in his excitement before realizing who he was hugging and letting go with an awkward chuckle.

"I know it's been centuries," Wukong said, face softening with a sad smile as his words continued. "But I remembered that worked for you... back then. You could have asked me for help, Mango."

"... yeah... thanks, Peaches," Macaque said slowly, looking at him with an almost suspicious gaze for a moment before he frowned oddly and stood to wander off. "I'm... going back to bed."

The group watched Macaque make his way to the hallway, movements slow and sluggish from his odd endeavor.

"Sleep well!" Mei suddenly shouted after him. "You deserve some rest after that!"

He paused just long enough to nod before heading on his way.

"You gonna explain any of that, Peaches?" Pigsy asked, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. "The heck did you do anyway?"

"Compressed his wind pipe and scared him half to death," Wukong answered with a shrug. "It was the only thing that worked when we were... friends. And no, I don't want to explain. Not until he wants to."

No one said anything to that, just nodded in silent agreement.

When Macaque woke up the glamors were back up and where they used to be... except, Pigsy noted, whatever had originally been concealing the dark circles under his eyes.

He also noted how when Mei asked how he sleept he sounded more honest than he had since joining them.

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #gen fic #humor fic #BUT THEN FEELS #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #mei #long xiaojiao #sandy #pigsy #tang

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years.

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person.

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.)

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him.

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms.

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自己的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness.

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself.

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date.

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe.

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before.

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak -

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position.

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks).

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers.

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then.

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear.

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much.

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!!

Sound Effects

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do?

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left.

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring?

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys.

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date.

#tears of themis #xia yan #luke pearce #rambles #this whole thing is kinda messy so kudos if you made it through

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

The Falcon and the Newlyweds

Summary: After Steve travels back in time to reunite you and Bucky, he retires as Captain America, but you’re just getting started. (aka exactly like TFATWS but better?)

A/N: All credits to original owners/writers of TFATWS series. Added details/characters and minor storyline changes are of my own imagination.

Word Count: 6.2k

And away, and away we go!

Episode 5

When Sam suggested the three of you go find John, you shook your head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t want to,” you whispered.

“Doll, we’re afraid we’re gonna hurt him, too,” Bucky admitted.

You still continued to shake your head. “I-I’m not worried about us… I-”

“Oh…” Bucky said in sad realization. “Oh, doll. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He lost control, and I think even he knows that. He’s still the idiot we hate. And yeah, by the looks of it he managed to snag a vial of the serum, which makes him like me now.” Bucky shuddered at the thought. “But someone needs to find him.”

“I don’t want to…”

“That’s okay. Sam and I can go. We can take you back to the apartment, and then Sam and I can go.”

“No. Bucky you can’t go.”

“I’m not letting Sam go by himself.”

You looked over at Sam, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Look, Y/N. I know you saw an ugly side to John. I get that fear. Okay? I do. Buck used to scare me the way John just scared you. But Buck’s right. Someone has to find him, and it’s better if we do it. And look, throughout all of this, have Buck and I ever let you get close to getting hurt?”

“No…”

“Exactly. And if it makes you feel better, Buck and I will do the talking. Just come with us so we know you’re not alone. Please?”

“Okay,” you finally nodded. “But please don’t fight him if you don’t have to.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, much less agree with it,” Bucky tried to joke. “Sam, you still got Sharon tracking him?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

~~~

Sam led the way to a building that was closed off for construction, easily locating John inside. “Walker,” Sam started.

“You guys should see a medic,” John interrupted. “You don’t look so good.” Long gone was the high and mighty tone he usually addressed you all with. His tone was also void of any attitude or malice. It was chilling to see him looking and sounding so void.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam started again, as John started to walk past you all.

“What?” he scoffed, the attitude and raised voice coming out. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky said simply, keeping his own tone calm to not anger the other man, and cause another outburst of rage. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Sage advice from one previously unhinged super soldier to a currently unhinged one.

“I’m not like you,” John insisted.

Bucky gave a sad shake of his head, and you gripped his hand in yours reassuringly. If John didn’t want to listen to someone who’d been where’d he’d been, and under much worse conditions, that was on John, not Bucky.

“Listen,” Sam stepped in. “It was the heat of the battle, okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. John, you gotta give me the shield, man.”

Slow realization swept across John’s face. “Oh… so that’s what this is. You almost got me. I should’ve known when she didn’t have any smartmouthed remarks for me.” His gaze swept over you, chillingly so.

“Mistakes happen,” you said, your voice quiet. “Let them help you so this doesn’t get worse.”

“You don’t wanna do this,” John said, his attention back on Bucky and Sam.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky responded.

There was a momentary pause as Bucky and Sam looked at each other, and nodded. In a swift movement, Bucky guided you backwards with his arm, then advanced on John with Sam.

Two against one, you watched as Bucky and Sam tried to outfight John, punches and kicks flying in every direction, vibranium fist colliding with vibranium shield. You pressed yourself against a wall, making yourself as small as possible, heart hammering in your chest as you watched the scene unfold.

Any fear you had turned to blood boiling rage when John chucked the shield, nailing Bucky in the chest as sending him crashing backwards as John advanced, Sam lying on the floor from a hit he’d taken.

“Why are you making me do this?!” you heard John scream as he pressed the shield into Bucky, pinning him between the metal and construction vehicle. He grabbed the shield that Bucky had a firm grip on, throwing Bucky sideways across the warehouse.

Seeing red, you quietly reached down to pull out a knife. Aside from the shootout in Madripoor, you never needed to use any of the weapons strategically placed throughout your suit. And despite everything, you didn’t actually want to shoot John, mostly at the risk of missing and hitting either Bucky or Sam. But while John wasn’t exactly in stabbing range, and you weren’t all that amped to get into stabbing range, you could throw it.

With a slow breath, you adjusted the sharp steel in your hand. You took aim, chucking the knife with as much accuracy and force as you could, watching as the blade hurled end over end before sinking into John’s upper thigh, at the very convenient time that Sam flew straight into him. “This isn’t you, John,” Sam breathed heavily as both men stood face to face.

“We could’ve been a team…”

Not liking the way John didn’t appear ready to give up, Sam launched a rope that locked into the shield, engaging in a weirdly combative game of tug of war.

John lost his grip, and the rope came loose, the shield clattering against the ground. If you were fast enough, you could reach out and snag it. But with Bucky still on the ground himself, Sam holding back John for you didn’t inspire much confidence. Especially when both men dove for the shield themselves. But when Sam tackled John away from grabbing it, both men rolling further away from you, and the shield, you took your chance.

“I. Am. Captain America!” John screamed as he pinned Sam down, ripping Sam’s wings off his suit.

“No, you’re not!” you said, charging into John with the shield with all your might. John’s body rolled off Sam’s, and yours rolled with the shield, clinging on to it for all you were worth as you and John both staggered to your feet. “Shit,” you breathed with a happy grin. “That was cool!” Then, your eyes went wide, before you screwed them shut, raising the shield the block John advancing on you. “SHIT!” you screamed, bracing for impact.

The impact however, never came as Bucky jumped into action at the sound of your voice, raining blows down on John. “Don’t! You! Fuckin’! Touch! Her!” Each yelled word was a new hit, as Bucky fought John away from you.

“It’s mine,” John panted like a child who was being forced to share his favorite toy against his will.

“It’s over, John,” Sam told him.

“It’s mine!” John snarled, taking a swing at Bucky.

Bucky blocked it, grabbing the back of John’s neck with his vibranium hand, and punching him in the face with his other hand. “Y/N, shield!” Sam ordered.

Not needing to be told twice, you tossed Sam the shield as Bucky picked up John, and slammed him into the shield, the force of the impact sending all three men crashing to the floor in a chorus of groaned grunts of pain, the shield lying uselessly on the ground once more.

Bucky was the first to recover, grabbing the shield, and rising to his feet. Wordlessly, he walked over to Sam, dropping it next to him. The look on Bucky’s face said more than his mouth ever could, the anger that he had helped Sam get a shield he’d given up so easily needing no reason to be physically voiced. “C’mon, doll,” he said simply, turning and walking out of the building, leaving John and Sam where they lay.

“We’re not gonna leave Sam here, are we?” you asked in a whisper, jogging to keep up with your husband.

“Right now? Yes.”

“Bucky… It’s been a long day. And I know you still have your issues about Sam and the shield, and what it all means to you. But it’s Sam. He’s our friend, and partner whether you want him to be, or not.”

“I know,” Bucky answered you through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m only leaving him for right now. Now, let’s talk about you, and what you did.”

You sighed. “What? Are you gonna yell at me about how I should have kept my distance? How you and Sam told me not to engage with John, and how I didn’t even want to go in there in the first place, so I’m completely batshit for doing what I did? That I could have gotten hurt, or worse? I know all that, Bucky. So please, spare me the lecture.”

“That was half of it, yes…” he admitted. “But what you did was also incredibly smart, and got Sam the shield.”

You shrugged. “I just got mad, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but it got Sam the shield. And it potentially saved us too. John was… That’s not a fight I’m eager to have again, that’s for damn sure. Between that fight and the one earlier… Knowing that you’re okay, and Sam probably physically feels worse than I do right now is really the only thing helping me feel somewhat okay right now.”

“Well, let’s get back to the apartment, and I’ll patch you up like old times.”

Bucky smiled fondly at long buried memories. “Mmm. Nurse Y/N. I always liked her.”

~~~

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam reported over breakfast the next morning. “But so far, they only found her followers. They’ve searched a camp nearby, and just like the last camp they searched, nothing. She’s gone. We’ll never find her.”

“Hey, you got your sleeve back,” Torres’ voice chirped as he walked into the living room, and you wondered briefly where he’d come from, but you figured he probably arrived when Sam did, and given him the full run down of the GRC’s movements, much like Sam was giving you and Bucky now. Torres pointed at Bucky’s left jacket sleeve, once again reattached to the jacket he was wearing. “No? Yeah… okay then…” Torres said to no one in particular as Bucky stood there in silence, with his trademark stoic stare.

Still silent, and clearly still angry with Sam, Bucky turned on his heel to exit the room. “Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam wondered.

“Alright, good to know you survived,” Torres chipped again in a goodbye of sorts as Bucky stalked off down the hallway.

“He’ll come around,” you said as a half-assed apology for Bucky. “He’s… ya know. So, what else do we need to know about the Karli situation? Or the John one?”

Sam shrugged, looking over at Torres. “What’s our next steps?”

“Captain America killing a foreign national in public? It’s kinda like a big deal. Like international incident big. Folks higher up on the payroll are all over it now. So, unfortunately…”

“They’re taking jurisdiction,” Sam guessed.

“Yeah,” Torres nodded, his attention falling to a duffle bag at Sam’s feet that contained the snapped wings of his suit. “What happened to these?”

“So is there anything we can do?” you asked as Torres started examining the duffle bag.

“Not really. As I was telling Sam, they’ve cordoned off the whole camp, and Karli’s a ghost. After what went down, she’s laying extra low. Like under underground.”

“That’s why it makes sense for us to get involved,” Sam said. “The longer we let her regroup, the harder it’s gonna be to find her.”

“She’s got people helping her from all over the world, on all platforms,” Torres pointed out. “She’s really, really good at this thing.” He ran his hands carefully over the splintered wings. “How’d these break?”

“John,” you answered while Sam sighed, taking in all the information Torres was providing.

“Anyways,” Torres went on, “all we can do now is sit tight, and just chill. Sometimes there’s nothing to do, until there’s something to do.”

“That’s bizarrely wise,” Sam said with a small laugh.

“It means we can train,” you interjected. “Be prepared for whatever comes next.”

“The lady has a point,” Torres agreed with you, his eyes flickering longingly to the shield that lay on the table, remnants of the blood John had splattered on his now gone.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam nodded with a smile, looking at you. “Find your husband, and let’s get to work.”

Thankfully, all you had to do was turn your head, finding Bucky stalking back down the hallway with both yours and his suitcases in hand. “B- Oh, hey. We going somewhere?”

“Home. Well. Sam is. You and I are making a pit stop first.”

“So you finally found Zemo?” was Sam’s guess.

“I have an idea of where he might be, yeah.”

“You know, sometimes you still scare me Buck. The staring. The eerily calm voice. It’s creepy, man.”

“You wanna get to work, or not, Sam?”

~~~

The pit stop ended up being Sokovia, Bucky giving you a full rundown as to why he figured Zemo would be there on the flight over. He also told you of the plan he had. And sure enough, as the two of you walked up to the memorial site, Zemo was standing in front of it, his back facing you.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said as you and Bucky got within earshot. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky deadpanned, finger clicking the safety of the gun he had ready at his side.

Zemo turned towards you both, unthreatened by Bucky’s action as his attention focused on you. “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned you and Sam, but you wouldn’t listen. Just as stubborn as Steve was, the two of you.” His gaze shifted to Bucky. “But you. They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere. And there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Bucky answered, his face conveying no evidence of whether or not that statement was actually true. “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled at what he believed to be the naivety of Bucky’s words. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”

The gun in Bucky’s hand clicked again as he loaded what you knew to be nothing, but Zemo rightfully assumed to be a bullet into the chamber, raising his hand, the barrel of the gun mere inches from Zemo’s forehead. Zemo went pale, but kept his composure calm, even nodding at Bucky like he was giving the man permission to pull the trigger.

You watched as Zemo sucked in his breath while Bucky pressed ever so lightly on the trigger. But all that came out of the gun was an empty clicking sound. Eyes still locked on Zemo, Bucky opened his other hand, the bullets clattering to the ground.

Silently, the Dora Milaje walked up, surrounding Zemo. “Ladies,” he greeted, before addressing Bucky one last time. “I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye James. It was nice getting to know you, Mrs. Barnes.”

Two of the Dora Milaje escorted Zemo away, while the third talked briefly with Bucky about their own plans for Zemo. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf,” she added as a small warning.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. Then, “Hey. I may have another favor to ask of you.”

~~~

After your visit with Zemo, you and Bucky headed home.

“Buck said you got a few good ones in on that new Cap guy. Good for you,” Steve smiled proudly.

“I did okay, I guess. Got out better than Bucky and Sam, that’s for sure,” you shrugged in modesty. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Yeah, he got back a few days ago. But just as soon as he stopped by, he was gone again. Something about seeing the old man in Baltimore?”

“Bradley,” you and Bucky said in unison. “He’s uh… like you and me,” Bucky added as an extra explanation when Steve cocked his head in confusion. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, if that was a few days ago, where’s Sam now?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “My guess? He went home to see his sister in Louisiana. You guys still not talking after what happened?”

You looked at Bucky, and shook your head. “No. Bucky won’t say it, but he’s still never forgiven Sam for giving up the shield in the first place. And now he’s even more mad he had to help Sam get it back, because-”

“None of this would have happened if he hadn’t given it up in the first place,” you and Steve gave your best Bucky impression together.

“1.) I don’t sound like that. And 2.) I’m right. None of this would have happened if Sam had kept the shield. Not the shit with Walker anyway.”

“But Sam’s still family. And we’re still Avengers. And we still have a job to finish with Karli,” you pointed out.

“What? So you want to go to Louisiana and find Sam?” Bucky asked you.

“That would be a start.”

“Doll, we just got home. Don’t you wanna be home for a bit?”

“Not when there’s still work to be done. And you and Sam gotta put this whole mess behind you once and for all, because all Riga proved was that it takes all three of us working together to take down John.”

“And that barely worked,” he reminded you.

“Which is also why we all need to train together. Not you training me here while Sam does God knows what in Louisiana. We need to be an actual team here, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Alright. I’ll book us a flight first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Why not book it right now?”

Bucky looked at Steve, clearing his throat before leaning in close to your ear. “Because of reasons I can’t say in front of your brother, doll.”

Your eyes went wide and your cheeks turned bright red at Bucky’s insinuation while Steve clapped his hands loudly together. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

~~~

You’re sure we’re in the right place?” you asked Bucky as you approached a dock crowded with people and supplies.

Bucky only nodded as he climbed in the back of a truck lifting a huge pallet with ease at the same time you heard Sam’s voice wonder “How do we get it off the truck?”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said as he set the pallet aside, turning to see Sam’s shocked expression.

“Surprise,” you grinned, waggling your fingers in a wave at Sam.

Sam stepped around the truck to get closer to you and Bucky, the shock on his face now a questioning look.

Bucky set a suitcase down on the bed of the truck. “Just dropping this off. Sign for it, and we’ll go.”

“Bucky,” you hissed under your breath. This was not part of your plan at all.

“I called in a favor from the Wakandans,” Bucky explained to Sam.

Before Sam could say anything in response, or you could berate Bucky under your breath again, a pipe started hissing loudly, and a woman was rushing over. “Sam!”

Sam wasted no time in rushing over to assess what the damage to the pipe was and how to go about fixing it, grabbing a nearby wrench as the woman looked at you and Bucky.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

“Hi,” she smiled back.

Bucky sighed, watching what Sam was doing before going over. “Hold on, hold on. You gotta go up.” He took the wrench from Sam, pushing him out of the way, quickly tightening to the loose bolt on the pipe until it stopped hissing.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?” Sam asked as Bucky set the wrench aside.

Bucky thought about it for a second, looking at the vibranium appendage. “Well, I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed. So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it,” Sam nodded.

“It’s nice,” Bucky complimented. “You want any help?”

Sam looked at Bucky, sighing deeply. “Yeah…”

You and the woman looked over at Bucky and Sam, rolling your eyes. “Men…” you muttered. Then, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Sarah,” she smiled back. “Friends of Sam’s, I take it?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, her eyes roaming over Bucky. “And who are you?”

“I’m Bucky,” he grinned charmingly at her.

Sam punched him in the right arm as hard as he could.

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?!” Bucky growled, rubbing at his arm.

“What is it with you and people’s sisters, man? How did Steve not beat your ass?”

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she looked at you, yours and Bucky’s name clicking in familiarity. “Oh!” she said, a hand covering her mouth as she looked at you, “I’m so sorry!”

You howled with laughter as Sam hit Bucky in the arm some more. “Seriously?! How did Steve not obliterate your ass?”

“He was like a foot shorter and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Bucky shrugged. “Now will you stop hitting me? Doll!” He turned to you with puppy dog eyes to help him. “Weren’t you the one saying I needed to learn to be friendlier to people?”

“Friendlier, not flirtier,” you clarified, tears rolling down your cheeks from how hard you were still laughing. “Now help Sam with the damn boat, Sergeant Charmer.”

It was an interesting morning watching Bucky and Sam work on the boat, while you helped Sarah in the house making meals. “It’s probably a good thing Bucky’s from another time,” she commented as she caught you staring dreamily out the window for the millionth time.

“How do you mean?”

“A man that looks like that, and knows it? In today’s society? Not usually a good mix.”

“Oh, those types have always existed,” you said with a small chuckle. “Bucky and Steve used to fight them quite a bit.”

“And you? Having to fight off the hoards of women that no doubt threw themselves at a man like that?”

You laughed again. “Very rare occurrences. Bucky is, uh… attentive that way, I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky to have a husband like Bucky. Men like that are hard to come by, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Funny thing is, if you ask Bucky, he’d say he’s the lucky one.”

“Well, lunch is about done if you wanna bring these plates out to them for me.”

You thanked her, loading the plates up in your arms before walking outside and over to where Bucky and Sam were. “Lunch time!” you called out.

Both of their heads swiveled in your direction, Bucky clutching at his heart dramatically. “Oh, a woman after my own heart.”

“Sarah made lunch, I just helped,” you told him, handing him a plate.

Sam snickered, taking his own plate from you, “Thanks for helping her,” he told you, then in a louder voice that was almost a shout, “Thank you, Sarah!”

“You think Karli’s gonna throw in the towel?” Bucky asked, as you all took a spot and dug into your lunch.

Sam shook his head as he swallowed his bite of food. “I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Any idea on how to stop her?”

“I got Torres working on something.”

“Well, Zemo says there’s only one way.”

You all said nothing for a minute, eating your lunch and thinking quietly to yourselves before Bucky broke the silence. “Well. Y/N and I gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Gonna get a hotel room for the night. Crash, ya know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well, there’s two of us. We don’t wanna impose, or anything. I really just came to give you that,” Bucky nodded at the suitcase the Wakandans have given him for Sam.

Sam snorted. “Like Y/N didn’t all but march your ass on the plane to get here. So just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt-” Sam rambled.

“Okay,” Bucky cut him off with a chuckle. “I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

You and Sam laughed too, before Sam pointed at Bucky, “But don’t flirt with my sister.”

“Why would I do that?”

Sam looked at you, “He doesn’t get it, does he?”

You shook your head, “He never really did.”

“What don’t I get?”

“It’s how you interact with women in general, Bucky. They find you charming,” you explained. “Niceness is mistaken as interest.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“Just keep the charm around my sister in check, or I’ll help Y/N cut you up, and feed you to the fish.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

~~~

That night, instead of a hotel, you and Bucky slept in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house, while Sam offered to take the couch.

Both of you awoke to the sounds of Sarah’s sons making a ruckus down the hall, and Sam’s tired call out of “Hey!”

You rolled on your side, to find Bucky already looking at you with a smile on his face. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” you asked, kissing his nose.

His shoulders shrugged. “Something about this is nice. Waking up next to you in a house. Sound of kids.”

You gasped softly in a teasing manner. “James Barnes, are you saying you want a quiet domestic life?”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “You knew that was what I wanted. What our lives were supposed to be like when I got home. You wanted the same thing too, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I still do. I just didn’t know you still did, given how much everything’s changed.”

“For a while I didn’t. My focus was… elsewhere. But it’s been something that’s been on my mind again since you’ve been back. But I wanted to give us both time to adjust. Catch up for lost time, just me and you. And then… ya know. But yeah. This,” he twirled a finger about the room, and the sounds of the house coming alive, “is still something I want.”

“Well, it’s still something I want, too.”

His kiss was heavy with need as his lips crashed into yours. “God, I love you.”

~~~

The shield bit deeply into the tree Sam hurled it at. “Son of a b-” he muttered, dashing over to wedge it free.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Bucky told him.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Sam repeated in a mocking tone.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I got an idea.”

The idea ended up being taking rubber mats to bound around the trees, Sam giving it a test once they were done. The shield bounced off the mat, flying straight back to Sam who caught it with ease. “Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “That’s way better.”

“How’s the shield part feel?” you asked.

“That part feels weird.” He launched it again, the shield ricocheting off one mat into another before Bucky caught it. “The legacy of that shield,” Sam continued, “is complicated to say the least.”

“When Steve told us what he was planning, I don’t think any of us really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we?” Bucky spoke up.

You and Sam shared a look, Sam jerking a thumb at you, “Well, I understood. And so did she. But glad you’re finally catching up.”

Bucky sighed, “Fine. I didn’t understand. Point is, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” He lifted the arm the shield was on towards Sam for Sam to take.

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, taking the shield.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault,” Bucky went on to say. “I get it. It’s just… that shield… For a while it was the closest thing I had to a family. Or it was a huge part in me getting my family back anyway. Because if Steve never took it up in the first place… Well, when you retired it, it felt like giving up. Made me question everything. Like first Steve retired. Then you retired the shield. Everything that saved me was done. Like I was nothing but a completed mission.”

You and Sam stayed quiet, letting Bucky spill out the confession he now found the words to express. But after a long enough pause on Bucky’s end, you reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I know both Steve, and the shield mean a lot to you. But it doesn’t define you, Bucky,” you told him softly. “You are not who you are because of Steve. He might have helped, but he is not the reason. You are. You’re the one who put in the work.”

“She’s right,” Sam agreed with you. “You gotta stop looking at other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you, you still having those nightmares?”

“All the time,” Bucky nodded. “It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love? You wanna climb out of that hell you’re in, keep doing the work.”

“I’ve been making my amends.”

Sam scoffed. “No. You weren’t amending, you were avenging. And teaching Y/N in the process. You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier because you thought it would bring you closure. But if it actually was, then your nightmares wouldn’t be happening. At least not with the frequency they still do.”

Bucky looked at you, both of you thinking about Yori back home. “You’re not allowed to talk to Sam anymore if you’re gonna blab everything I tell you to him.”

You smiled, knowing he was only teasing. “We’re a team, Bucky. Looking out for each other is what we do.”

Bucky shook his head. “Definitely not a team.”

“Nope,” Sam agreed with Bucky.

“We’re not that good,” Bucky laughed.

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed again.

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And uh… partners?”

“Coworkers.”

“But, we’re also a couple guys with a mutual friend.”

“But the friend’s now gone,” Sam pointed out.

“So we’re a couple of guys.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

You snorted at their boyish back and forth antics. “The word you’re looking for is ‘family’ actually,” you interjected.

“Just uh… call us when you have a lead on Karli, and we’ll be there,” Bucky told Sam.

“Yep. And uh, thanks for the help. Meant a lot.”

“Course,” Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder, and you and Sam gave each other a quick hug. “C’mon, doll. We got a flight to catch.”

~~~

Back home with no idea for how long, you and Bucky set to work on a more rigorous training for you.

Mornings quickly became filled with drilling you in various hand-to-hand combat techniques in which Bucky barely broke a sweat, and you ended up drenched in enough of your own for the both of you.

While you relished in your morning routine with Bucky, it was the afternoons you found particularly interesting after you came out of the bedroom to find Bucky sitting in front of his laptop. “Whatcha looking at?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you peered at the house listings on the computer screen.

“Domestic dreaming,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he patted the sofa cushion next to him for you to join him.

“Oh, so when you said you still wanted this, you meant you wanted it now,” you teased as you moved around him to take the offered seat.

He shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Thanks to Stark, everyone that’s still around is pretty well off. And I forget when exactly, but at some point Steve and I were able to get our GI funds.”

“That’s nice,” you noted, now understanding why finances had never seemed to be an issue despite neither of you actually working.

“Yeah. And I figured raising a family in a shoebox apartment isn’t part of that domestic dream. So…”

“So here we are,” you supplied.

“So here we are,” he repeated with a nod. “Oh, this one looks nice,” he said, clicking on one of the options.

“It is,” you agreed, watching as Bucky clicked through the pictures of the 3 bedroom home. “Big enough to raise a family. Small enough to not be obnoxious.”

“Mhm,” Bucky murmured, the mouse hovering over the link to schedule a viewing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned.

After that, it wasn’t uncommon for yours and Bucky’s afternoons to be filled with meeting with realtors and attending open houses, weighing all your options in the evenings. And with the type of dedication Bucky had towards house hunting, it wasn’t long at all until you found a place you both fell in love with.

“C’mon, doll,” he roused you one morning like he always did. “Gotta go train.”

Normally you bounded out of bed, excited for a new day of training exercises, but today you swatted a hand at him, batting him away. “No,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up over your head, and turning away from him, the action making your stomach roll. You let out a long, low groan.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice taking on a note of concern. Hands pulled the blanket from your face, before he was feeling your forehead, checking for any unusual warmth. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” he noted with a frown.

“Gonna be sick,” you announced, springing from bed and racing for the bathroom.

Bucky followed worriedly, one hand pulling your hair out of your face, the other rubbing soothingly at your back as you dry-heaved into the toilet. “Okay, no training today. We do have the meeting with the realtor later to sign the last of the papers and get the keys. But I can ask Steve to come keep you company while I go do that if you’re not up for it.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and rising shakily to your feet. “You don’t have to bother Steve. It’s just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, let me at least help you back to bed, and make you some breakfast, okay?”

“Fine,” you conceded, letting him support your weight as he led you back to bed. “But I’m not hungry,” you told him as you pulled the blanket close around you in bed.

“Not hungry, or worried you’ll be sick if you eat?” he questioned the validity of your statement.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “At least try to eat some toast for me? Maybe having something in your stomach will help.”

“If you get it to me before I fall back asleep, I’ll try,” was your compromise.

Quickly, Bucky raced into the kitchen, as you closed your eyes wondering why you suddenly felt so miserable. When you’d been sick in the past, there’d always been signs leading up to it. But this sickness had caught you completely off guard.

“Gotta sit up for me, doll,” Bucky’s voice had you opening your eyes again, spotting him standing next to you with a plate in his hand.

You groaned, sitting up against the headboard and taking a begrudging bite of the toast.

He chuckled again. “I forgot how stubborn you get when you’re sick. Way more than you normally are.”

“Not sure how not wanting to vomit toast, and wanting to sleep makes me stubborn, but okay,” you said, taking another slow bite.

“Aren’t there usually signs before you get sick? I thought there used to be signs.”

“There are signs. Or there’s supposed to be. I dunno what the heck is happening.”

His brows pulled together in curious confusion. “You’re not…” his eyes shifted to look at your stomach pointedly. “Are you?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion, before you shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe?”

“Shit…”

“Would it be bad if I was?”

“No!” he rushed. “God no. Just…”

“We talked about all of this back in the forties, it became irrelevant for decades, and now that we started talking about the possibility of it all again, it’s all happening at once.”

“And we still have the Karli situation, yeah. But it’s fine. It’s more than fine. Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy?”

“Please?”

Ten minutes later, Bucky held you tight as you waited on the test lying on the bathroom counter with wide and tearful eyes. “Holy shit…” you both breathed in unison, as a small plus sign appeared in the result window. “Holy shit!”

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inyourwildestdreamslove · 3 years

Text

Tell Me No Secrets: Chapter 9

Pairing: Steve Harrington X Reader X Billy Hargrove

Begins in Season 2.

Summary: You thought you escaped the world of science experiments and torture when you walk out of that lab. However, high school has other plans, somehow you end up as unlikely friends and love interests to the two most desired boys in school. Not to mention monsters from another dimension and a little girl named El from your past that just won’t seem to leave you alone. Maybe that lab wasn’t as bad as you thought, at least there people left you alone.

Masterlist

Chapter 9: The Captured

The trees are a blur as the car roars forward. The bewildered and angry faces of Dustin and Steve in the rearview mirror sparks a twinge of guilt. It’s better this way though, they don’t need to be involved. It’s bad enough that Max and Billy are involved. Groaning as the two men in the car pull out behind Billy but in front of Steve. You can feel how startled Steve is and his growing panic as he realizes what’s happening.

Billy glances behind him and growls out, “Friends of yours?”

“Something like that…” you say absentmindedly as you assess the situation behind you.

Realizing that they have far more information than you would like punches you in the gut as town quickly approaches.

You make a decision.

“Pull over.”

The order hangs in the air.

“Are you crazy?!” Max yells, pulling herself forward in the seat, “They’ll catch you!”

“That’s the point,” you say emotionlessly as you regard her.

“No!”

“What is going on here!?” Billy yells angrily beside you.

“They’re going to take her!” Max screams turning to Billy, “You can’t stop! She’s going to give herself up to save us!”

“Fuck that,” Billy says as he revs the engine and makes an abrupt turn to the right. The car behind you all skids but makes the turn at the last minute.

“You need to let me do this,” you say calmly.

“Like Hell I do!” he says rage in his voice.

You huff in annoyance, “They will succeed, if not today, someday.”

“Then it’s not going to be today,” Billy says, taking another abrupt turn trying to throw them off your trail.

“You need to let me do this,” you say matter of factly.

The alleyway you find yourselves in is a dead end. Billy curses and slams his hands on the steering wheel as you get out of the car.

“No!” Max yells as you exit the car, Billy reaching for you a moment too late.

You turn to the men, each of them pointing a gun at you. Steve pulls up behind them a moment later and grabs his bat from the back seat.

“Steve… Don’t…” you murmur tiredly.

“They can’t have you!” Steve yells.

“It’s okay…” you soothe them.

“So you’re coming quietly?” questions one of the men.

“Yes.”

“Good choice,” the other murmurs as he pulls the trigger.

The panic from those around you is palpable as you fall to the floor the dart sticking out of your neck. Steve and Billy make to run towards you before they turn to the men and to rush them.

With the last of your strength your message echoes in their minds, “Don’t forget…”

***

Horror fills them as they watch her fall to the ground. Her eyes roll back into her head and everything goes silent before the rush of rage brings everyone snapping back to reality. Billy pulls back and punches the nearest man as a tranquilizer dart flies towards him. Steve falls next his bat rolling uselessly to the side. Max and Dustin panic and scream as they rush to Steve and Billy.

Max whips around in just enough time to see the two men haul her up and throw her limp body in the back seat of the car. Methodically, as if kidnapping is second nature to these monsters, they move Steve’s car. Dustin is struggling to pull Steve out of the way.

Max cries out in sadness, feeling helpless, as her friend vanished from sight around the bend. She’s left with her unconscious brother and a panicking Dustin.

“What do we do!?” Yells Dustin snapping Max from her shock.

“I don’t know!” She yells back, anger masking her fear.

“We have to do something!” Dustin yells as he paces back and forth. He would periodically rake his fingers through his hair.

“Like what!?” Max screeches back fists flying to her side in rage and frustration.

With no small amount of effort the two preteens drag their older and heavier brother figures into Billy’s car. The two young men are slumped together unceremoniously in the back seat as Max takes the wheel of Billy’s car.

“Are you sure about this?” Dustin asks, hesitation clear in his voice. The memory of the last time Max drove clear in his mind.

“Zoomer. Remember?,” She says pointing at herself in confidence, “Besides, you didn’t die last time,” she says flipping her hair over her shoulder.

“It was dark last time! No one was on the road! It’s the middle of the morning!” Dustin argues crossing his arms.

“Stop being such a baby! It’ll be fine!” She exclaims, frustration seeping into her voice.

With that, she starts up the car and nervously pulls out onto the road. Slowly the preteens make their way to the police station. Not without many near misses and loud honks of other drivers.

The preteens jump from the vehicle and rush into the police station yelling for Hopper as they do so.

“What are you two doing here? Why aren’t you in school?” Hopper asks in bewilderment coming out of his office. The receptionist unable to control the duo before her.

“They took (Name)!” Both Max and Dustin yell in a panic turning towards the confused chief of police.

***

When you wake up you are strapped to a chair with a helmet over your head. Your head is completely silent for the first time in your life, and if you weren’t concerned with figuring a way out of this, you would be enjoying it more. The room is dark save for the single fluorescent light in the very center of the room. There are one-way windows on one side of the room and you can practically feel the eyes of the people on the other side.

A man that you recognize from your childhood enters the room and regards you as a science experiment. He’s wearing a brown suit with a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He hasn’t changed much except for the now graying hair on his balding head.

“Three… How have you been? You are quite the sneaky little thing aren’t you?” he asks conversationally as he sits down across from you at the table.

Your answer is an emotionless gaze. You can feel yourself retreating back into your mind as the man in front of you regards you the same way as so many years ago. Like an experiment, as if you are less than him.

“Where have you been hiding all this time, hmmm? With Melanie Snow perhaps?” he quips pulling the cigarette from his lips. The smell burns your nostrils as he releases a puff of smoke.

You feel your chest constrict as he mentions her name.

“I see you’ve made friends with a Steve Harrington? A Dustin Henderson? A Maxine Mayfield? A William Hargrove?”

“They aren’t my friends, they are annoyances,” you answer monotonously.

“Annoyances?” he sounds almost amused.

“Yes… If it wasn’t for them your lackeys would be dead,” you spit the words at the man fire in your eyes as you regard him coolly.

“Dead, you say? You would do that?” he asks leaning forward on his elbows.

“I’m not a child anymore,” your voice is ice.

“No… I suppose not… However, we will be picking up where we left off. Perhaps we will see the results that we want after all this time.”

With that, he gets up and leaves the room. You keep your mind calm and clear as you access the situation you are in.

It’s not long before a couple of men in white come into the room and push you from the chair. Their handling is far rougher than it should be as you walk down the hallway. You can hear the cries of a few children, but you keep your face void of any emotion. The room they take you to is the same one from your childhood. You see the number three on the wall and suppress a shudder. You are shoved inside, but before the door is shut you turn to the man behind you and lock eyes with him.

“You know… cheating on your wife when she’s pregnant with your child is disgusting.”

The look on his face as the door closes is priceless.

***

“We have to help her!” yells Dustin as he paces the living room floor of (Name)’s house.

“Can Elle find her?” questions Steve his hand in his hair as he sits on the couch.

“Damnit!” curses Billy as he punches the arm of the chair he’s in, “What good is this?”

Steve and Billy had woken up in a panic upon realizing what happened. They had given their statement to Hopper, who had been very displeased that Max had driven to the police station while the boys were unconscious, but that’s a talk for another day. They went to break the news to Melanie which is how they found themselves setting up camp in the Snow living room.

“Hey just calm down man! We’re going to figure something out!” Clenching his teeth against the pain in his head. The tranquilizer making his head pound with the leftover drugs still coursing through him.

“Well, what can this Elle girl do?” he rounds on him anger radiating off of his person.

“More than you!” yells Dustin.

“Hey! Yelling about everything isn’t going to solve this!” yells Max.

“She’s right…” laments Melanie, “She’s going to have to get herself out of this.”

“But Elle can-” Dustin begins.

“She would be putting herself in danger!” Hopper interrupts, “You don’t know how they found her, they could do the same to Elle.”

“We can’t just do nothing!” yells Billy as he stands up from his seat and takes a step towards Hopper.

“I’m not risking Elle being found. That doesn’t mean we aren’t going to do anything.” Hopper holds his stare until Billy backs down.

“Why do you care anyway?” Dustin asks looking over at Billy in confusion.

“Why do I-?” he looks angrily at Dustin, “Because-” He trails off looking unsure of himself for just a moment before his anger covers it up. “None of your business twerp!”

“Will everyone just calm down?” Yells Hopper trying to maintain peace.

“How?! How are we supposed to do that?” Asks Dustin shaking his head in frustration.

“Can someone just do something?!” screeches Melanie before she collapses to the floor crying.

Everyone is silent as they regard her, each of them thinking the same thing...

‘But what can we do?’

***

The next few days you sit quietly in your old room listening. Your powers while not entirely snuffed out are muffled and it isn’t long until the helmet is replaced with another stronger one. You don’t mind as much they think you do as you feign sleep all the while listening.

It’s in sleep that you feel him though. He’s frantic and angry and feels very alone.

You can’t blame yourself for this. You say calmly regarding him.

His eyes widen when he sees you sitting there on his bed.

“You got out?!” he says getting up and coming towards you.

No… I am still there…

“How are you able to…?”

We have a connection Billy… Perhaps it’s our emotions that bind us… We understand hurt better than most…

“You let them take you!” he explodes, “You could have fought them! We could have fought them! Max is… Max is really upset! And damn Harrington! He- Damn it!” He yells angrily picking up a can of hairspray and throwing it against the wall.

It had to happen…

“No, it didn’t! I could have… done something... protected you…” He sits down on the bed defeated, his elbows resting on his knees.

You’re silent for a moment, ‘There are bigger things at play than you understand. They would not stop and I had to think of more than just myself…’

“Bullshit.”

Tell them not to worry…

“Not to worry?!” he yells, “You’ve been captured by some freak show scientists, and no one is supposed to worry?!” he jumps up from the bed and towers over you breathing heavily in his rage.

You regard him silently with the same patience that you always have.

Trust me…

With that, you vanish from his mind. Blinking you are abruptly woken up by the sound of a little metal flap swinging as food is shoved into your cell. You sigh as you glare at the hard bread and porridge that is sitting in the bowl. It’s important that you keep your strength up though it’s imperative to your plan. You pick up the tray and begin to eat.

***

“What do you mean you saw her?” Steve asks, disbelief clear in his voice. He hadn’t been sure what to think when Billy asked to meet him behind the school, but this wasn’t what he expected.

“I told you! I saw her okay?! I don’t get it either!” Billy yells all while trying to keep his voice down. He doesn’t need anyone seeing him and Harrington talking behind the school, too many questions.

“But why did you see her and not me? I’m her friend!” Steve says defensively and maybe a little jealously. Why were you talking to Billy and not him?

“I’m her friend too! You aren’t the only one!”

“Yeah right! What have you ever done for her huh?”

“She-” Billy looks away from Steve. He can’t know…

“She what?” Steve presses, voice going lower in a warning.

“None of your business! Look, I just wanted to know if that makes any sense to you!”

“I mean… she’s special… you know…” Steve says uncertainty clear in his voice.

“Yeah, I know she is…” Billy says remembering the day you casually told him you were going to help him.

“So what do we do?” Steve asks.

“She said to trust her…” Billy says trailing off in thought.

“If she contacts you again see if she knows where she is. We’re going to get her back,” Steve says with finality. “Truce?” he asks holding his hand out to Billy.

Billy regards it for a moment before he nods, “Truce.”

The two young men clasp hands in a firm handshake, both trying to have a tighter grip as they shake on it.

“What are you trying to do? Break my hand?!” Steve yells.

“You’re such a wuss Harrington!” Billy laughs as he pulls back.

“Wuss?! You face a Demogorgon and tell me who the wuss is!”

“What the fuck is a Demogorgon?”

“You have a lot to learn Hargrove. A lot.”

***

You feel yourself growing stronger every day. And among the quiet in your mind, you’ve noticed something else. You can tap into emotions and you spend the next few days wreaking havoc on the workers of the lab. You cause anger outbursts, crying spells, and lust to run rampant. Papers are thrown to the floor in a rage and balled up in fits of uncertainty. You plant lies in their minds with the simplest of sentences. If you didn’t know any better you would say you’re having fun.

“It seems we’ve underestimated you…” Carl Watt says from his position in front of you. He adjusts the button on his ugly suit jacket as he sits down before you.

You just regard him blankly as silence rings throughout the room.

“You have caused quite a few problems for us. Are you having fun?” he asks patiently as if speaking to his six-year-old daughter who made a mess in the kitchen.

You gaze down at the steel table in front of you, eyes unseeing as you creep in his mind.

“If you don’t cooperate there will be consequences.”

Again you are silent at his threat.

“After all we wouldn’t want anything to happen to your friends would we?”

You fight the reaction. The flinch. The twitch. The way your mind screams at the man before you in rage. You give him nothing as you continue to gaze down at the table, the silence stretching long and cold in the sterile room.

“You think you’re fooling anyone? Teenage girls are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Emotions. Boys. Attention. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

You finally raise your head to look squarely in his eyes, your own void of any emotion as you regard him.

“You think you’re fooling anyone?” You mimic, “Men are so easy. You all have the same weakness. Power. Lust. Control. You are not nearly as complex as you believe you are.”

Carl looks enraged as his fist flies onto the table. Instead of flinching as he wanted, you merely tilt your head to one side and regard him in boredom.

“And you said teenage girls are emotional. You should really have better control than that,” you say calmly.

“Get her out of here,” he says through clenched teeth.

Walking back to your cell you sense it suddenly. A tickle in your mind. You snap your head to the side and hear it plain as day.

They know.

They found it.

The door. The door. The door!

There is panic in the words and in the mind.

He’s fourteen with dark hair and wild green eyes. You remember him vaguely from when you were here before.

Show!

You collapse as the boy enters your mind and you are thrown into a dream.

Billy is in a car accident. He’s pulled into a void. The screams are too much.

You try to pull away from him. To break away from his hold on you.

Bait.

The creature that fills the sky is terrifying. Black and everywhere. It fills your mind and you know in your heart that this isn’t over. That the Upside Down is beating at the door.

Wait…

You gasp as you are thrown back into your head. The haunted green eyes of the boy down the hall filling your vision.

“Get up!” yells the guard.

You are kicked roughly in the side as you double over again. The other reaches down and grabs your hair dragging you up to your feet.

“Not so tough without your powers are you?” spits the guard.

You blink and reorient yourself before you wipe the blood from your nose. You can feel him at the edge of your conscience.

Bad men… bad…

‘Yes…’ you think to him, ‘Bad men…’

Out?

He pauses for a breath as you are thrown back into your cell.

Out out out???

‘Soon.’

The thought seems to soothe him as his mind quiets and he drifts off to sleep. Vaguely, you wonder if he even knows how to talk. His mind is less fragmented than you originally thought though. You can use that to your advantage.

***

Billy opens his eyes to see you standing before him.

I need you to be ready.

“For what?” he asks instantly alert and sitting up, “Ready for what?”

The moment I expose them…

“What do you need us to do?”

The old base is where I’m being kept. Elle knows where. I will need a distraction in precisely three days’ time. You need to listen very carefully to my instructions. In a glass bottle mix carbon disulfide, phosphorus, and sulfur with a metal lid. This solution is highly flammable if exposed to air.

“What do you want us to do with that?”

I want to burn this place to the ground.

Notes:

I know! Such a long time coming! Concentrating has been difficult even with inspiration for this story! The next chapter will probably be the final chapter for this story, but never fear! I'll begin work on "I'll Tell You No Lies" the sequel to this story set in S3 of Stranger Things! There may be a little short in between this story and that one because I have such affection for this weird triangle between MC, Billy, and Steve. Please drop a comment to tell me your thoughts!

#Billy Hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #steve harrington x reader x billy hargrove #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harington imagine #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things series #stranger things reader insert #stranger things fandom #love triangle #healing #i'm fixing this #you're welcome

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Breathe (This love pt. 5)

Bucky x Reader

Set during Endgame

Look out for: Stubborn dad Thor, and 40s Bucky.

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Previous Chapter

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None of you thought it was going to end that way.

When Carol, a new friend of yours, found Tony in space with one of Thanos’ daughters, there was a spark of hope within you. But when your adoptive father chopped the titan’s head off out of rage, you knew you had to go back to the people who might be able tell you what’s next.

To visitors, the Norns’ cave felt eerie. But stepping in it for the first time after Thor took you under his care, it still felt like home. You could already feel the Norns’ presence despite not being submerged in the pool of water.

You smile at the memory of how they have the reputation of being cruel and torturous to anyone they possess, when they have never been less than gentle to you. Dipping your right leg first, you instantly felt how they made the water warmer. Walking into the middle, you waited for them to enter your consciousness.

Taking a deep breath, you laid yourself back and relaxed enough for your body to start floating on water. Then you felt them.

“We’ve been expecting you, child.” Your voice blended with theirs once they spoke up.

I’ve been meaning to visit you. I’m sorry I didn’t go sooner. You replied in your thoughts.

“You feel... broken.”

A titan got hold of the stones and snapped the universe’s population in half. I- I lost most of my family.

“We know. And now you’re here because your heart cannot rest.”

What can you tell me?

“There is a man...”

Of course, there is. You caught yourself thinking. There was a pang in your chest when you remembered how amused you were when one of your Midgardian friends rolled her eyes and said that phrase.

“Now is not the time, Y/N.” They snapped at you.

Sorry. Please continue.

“The man is stuck in a realm in Midgard, and he’s on his way.”

There is a realm within the Midgard realm? Confusion laced your thoughts.

“But remember child, it is not until resentment within your family is put aside, that you would have even an ounce of chance to fix everything.” You think back to how Stark still isn’t speaking to anyone of you. Yiu haven’t heard from him for years now.

How can I fix us?

“You can’t meddle in this one Y/N. It is only with time that the rough patch would heal.” you sighed in frustration but found yourself agreeing. If it’s for the best, then you’ll let time take its course.

“Now, you are banned from leaving the cave until you tell us about this Bucky that’s plaguing your mind.”

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When you were first introduced you as Thor’s adopted daughter to the Asgardians, they were polite but you could feel that they were still unsure of you. But with spending time with helping them fish and being patient enough to teach them the Midgardian lifestyle, they now treated you as their own princess despite not being of royal blood. But since Thanos, Thor has been more distant – leaving responsibilities to you and Val.

For five years, you tried to appear as if you were doing better than most. And after taking time to just wallow in sadness for a while, you finally started visiting Nat and Steve from time to time. You were glad to hear that Steve was going to therapy, and you know he means well when he drops hints that you should go with him and join his sessions, but you always gave lame excuses, and often diverted away from any topic that would involve Bucky.

Nat however, has never been one to shy away from calling you out. “I know there’s a part of you that still blames yourself for not bending his blood and brains out.” she once confronted you when you were lounging on the couch, day drinking and eating sandwiches. You sat up and gave her a sad smile, your eyes tearing up.

“Damn it Nat, I came here to drink, not to get therapy from you.” you chuckled, grimacing at how forced it sounded.

“But it was never your fault. Believe me when I say that we all blamed ourselves at some point.” She continued, and your eyes teared up.

In the last five years you thought no one could see that you’ve been beating yourself up for not getting to where Steve and Thor were sooner. You thought that maybe if you had, you would’ve stopped Thanos, and half of the world, including Bucky, would still be here.

“Sometimes I wake up thinking I’m still in Wakanda, and that this has all been a nightmare.” you breathed out, feeling yourself about to break down for the first time. “I can’t find myself to stop waiting for him even if I don’t know if we could ever bring everybody back.” you finally admitted.

“Y/N -”

“Nat, the worst part is that I never got to tell him I love him. I know he knew and didn’t feel the same way. But I still wish I got to.” tears were starting to spill from your eyes, and Natasha was quick to get the drink from your hand before it spilled, and take you in her arms for comfort.

If you were to be completely honest, half the reason you go out of your way to visit Nat and Steve, was so you could also visit The Smithsonian Institution, and just... look at him. You’ve read what was written about him over and over, but it wasn’t enough to replace the yearning that you have inside.

In your sleep you can sometimes still see him just seconds before the blip. On other nights, it’s just the image of him sleeping soundly – his lips parted slightly, and his breathing getting steadier by the minute, the crease between his brows relaxed, and his hair pushed and tied at the back after you offered to - a sight you’ve engraved in your mind after many nights of comforting him following a nightmare.

“He loved you too, Y/N”. Steve spoke out from the doorway, seeing your state. “Maybe not like the way you do, but I know he does. And today I went out for a walk and -”

“Steve, if you’re about to tell her to look on the bright side, I’m about to hit you on the head with a PeanutButter sandwich.” Nat cut him off.

But then everyone’s attention snapped to Nat’s desk, where a notification pinged. It says that someone was outside. Sliding on the call, there was a man outside, asking if anyone was at home. You know you’ve seen his face before, and after he finally said his name, you remembered who he is.

“Is this an old message?” Steve asked after a few seconds in shock.

“It’s the front gate.”

--------

“I’ll do it too.” You spoke up to the group.

The team was going to have two tests – one where it would be a quick time on wherever the test subject would want to go, and if it’s successful, the second would leave the test subject longer in the timeline they choose. And you just volunteered yourself right after Clint.

“No, I forbid you.” Thor spoke up from his seat. Everybody turned their attention to him in surprise. All along they thought he was asleep because he had sunglasses on and was unresponsive.

“Fa-”

He stood abruptly and came closer to you. “This is non-negotiable, Y/N. I’ve already lost enough; I can’t lose you too." Your eyes welled with tears in surprise. For the last five years he’s managed to shut everyone out including you – leading you to believe that he doesn’t care anymore and just hasn’t kicked you out, out of honor.

“We’ll let you both talk first.” You heard Steve say in a low voice, ushering everyone else out of the room.

Thor grunted and moved away back to his seat, still wearing his glasses, while you stayed standing, leaning in the corner. Taking a long hard look at him, you understood where he was coming from. But you also knew getting things right would be the only way to possibly get him back up again. And it was a risk you were willing to take.

“There was a time when I believed you were dead.” You started talking, regardless of not knowing if he was listening. “I jumped right into anger out of guilt, and as I was ruthlessly destroying those outriders, I thought I was gonna have to stay feeling that way forever. Just plain angry.” You chuckled and pushed yourself from the wall.

“But there was a moment where that anger was replaced by worry and fright. It was when Bucky was getting too overwhelmed by the creatures’ attacks. Yes, I almost got pierced like a kebab right after, but it was also the moment I realized that I preferred feeling any other emotions than blinding anger. I don’t want you feeling that way forever too.”

“I’m not angry.” he snapped, standing up once again to get closer to you.

“Yes, you are. But above all you’re hurting.” you stood your ground in front of him.

“I am definitely NOT hurting.” He sarcastically answered.

“Really? Then take those glasses off. Let me see those definitely not bloodshot eyes.” you smiled gently up at him, crossing your arms in front of your chest, when he snorted at you. “Don’t think I didn’t hear you sniffling and trying to hide it by pretend-drinking that empty can of beer earlier.”

“gods, why are daughters so annoyingly observant.” He muttered, finally throwing the empty can of beer somewhere in the room. You can see that the team was back just right outside the glass door. You gave them an assuring smile, and faced him again.

“Well?”

“If it works on Clint, then fine.” He groaned, and you couldn’t help but tackle him out of gratitude.

--------

Clint was on the ground once he returned, and Nat rushed to his side to check on him.

“Hey, look at me.” she asked him, and he turned to look at everyone. His eyes were teary, but it wasn’t from sadness.

It was hope.

“It worked!”

--------

“Now, Y/N. This time you’re going to be there for a longer period, okay? Use your powers if defense is necessary.” Banner instructed you. You were now standing at the center of the machine in your suit. But only Nat and Steve knew what you had under it. It was their idea.

“Are you ready?” This time, Nat was behind the controller with Banner to overlook it. You gave her a small smile and a nod.

“Wait, where are you going anyway?” You heard Scott asked out loud, as Nat input the year. You looked over to where Steve was standing and he was also grinning.

“Say hi to him for me.” you heard him say before you felt yourself shrunk. And you were in.

--------

You made it out of a tent, now out of your suit and left with the old nurse’s uniform you were wearing under it earlier. Everybody else was too distracted, cheering on Steve because he just brought back with him the soldiers from Hydra’s base.

You tried to calm your nerves, just realizing that the people around you were now most likely dead from your timeline. How many of them survived the war, and how many of their grandchildren have you befriended? And how many of those grandchildren were also taken by the blip?

When the crowd was starting to disperse and most of the people were trying to get back to their tasks, you found yourself roaming around, a little lost, trying to figure out where the medical tent is.

“Steve, I told you I feel fine.” you froze when you heard his voice a little far behind you.

“It’s better to make sure, Buck.” you heard Steve insist. You still couldn’t will your legs to keep walking. “And even if you are, you need rest. Just let me find you a...”

shit

“...nurse! Hey, ma’am!” You weren’t sure if you were the one Steve was calling out. Turning around slowly, your breath hitched when you finally faced them. Bucky’s own face went from annoyed to entranced in a second. He was staring at you with the very same pair of orbs you’ve been missing. Only that in this timeline, they still held a glint of playfulness and innocence in them.

You cleared your own throat when you realized it’s been a few seconds since anyone said anything. “Uh, what can I do for you, S- Captain?” you gave them a smile, trying not to chuckle from almost calling him by his first name.

“You know what, Steve, I am feeling a little funny.” Bucky nudged him with his elbow. And you turned your attention to him.

“Right. Uh, allow me to assist you, Sargeant.” you walked slowly towards him, feeling like your heart was going to jump out of your chest.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Steve muttered to him.

He put his arm around your shoulder for support as you start walking to what you hope was the medical tent. It was only then you realized that it was left arm. Your hand shakingly reached for his wrist, careful not to go for the hand, as if you were just making sure that you would be able to help him hold himself up.

“So... what’s your name?” He started trying to make small talk.

“Y/N” you answered, trying to mask your nervousness.

“I’m James. But you can call me Bucky.” Hearing him introduce himself in such a confident manner struck you deeply. You know that after this, he wouldn’t be able to know who he is for decades to come.

You almost wanted to warn him.

“Are you okay?” He asked in concern after being met with silence.

“Yes, sir. I’m just a tad nervous. I’m kinda new here.” you gave him a tight smile.

“Please call me by my name. And lucky for you, I’m the easiest patient you’ll ever tend to, doll. All I need is some company while on bed rest.” He gave you a boyish smile.

“You got yourself a deal, James.” you found yourself returning the smile.

Entering what was thankfully the medical tent, you helped him settle down on one of the beds. There were only about 3-5 other patients, and they were all being tend to already.

“I’m kind of curious, why did you decide to serve?” he gave you a sheepish smile.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything wrong with you, soldier?” you asked him first, and he responded with a small shake of his head. Smiling, you came up with a believable answer. “My dad was a high-ranking officer, but something happened, and they lost a lot of people. And now he’s back home wallowing in guilt. I decided to serve in behalf of him, so now I’m here.” you bit the inside of your cheek. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

James was looking at you in awe, and he took your hand in his left one and gave it a light squeeze. “You don’t have a man waiting on you back home?” you could hear he was almost hesitant to ask.

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill. How would you be able to say something so heart wrenching?

“Bu... He was among those who didn’t make it.” you cleared your throat to compose yourself. This was all too much.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” he didn’t know what to say. He almost kicked himself for having a tinge of relief in knowing that you weren’t committed to anyone.

“He wasn’t really mine... I was in love, yes. And he knew but just didn’t really feel the same. And I never resented him for it. I just wish I was brave enough to really tell him before he...” you choked up and apologized to him, but there was no judgement behind his eyes.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t want for you to be filled with regrets every time you remember him. I know I wouldn’t.” He gave you an assuring smile, squeezing your hand in comfort as the tears finally run down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry for crying. Now they’re gonna think you were being mean to me.” you gave him a sad smile.

“Steve will lecture me about manners for sure.” He chuckled.

“He still does it.” You thoughtlessly blurted out, earning a confused look from him. “I- I’ve heard some people saying he’s been super righteous even way before he became the Captain America.” you sheepishly smiled, hoping he believed you.

“Yeah. Always been a punk.” He replied, but you could hear adoration lace his voice.

“I think I should leave you to actually get some rest.” You knew it was time to go.

He nodded and smiled at you. “You're the most beautiful nurse I’ve ever seen. I don't think most of us wouldn’t mind if your face is what will be the last thing we’ll see.”

“Yeah, there is definitely something wrong with you. Get some sleep, soldier.” you turned and was already near the way out, when he spoke up.

“We’re going on a raid tomorrow. Will I get to see you when we come back?”

You felt your heart drop. You knew what was about to happen to him.

You turned to face his way and walked back to him where he was now sitting up on the bed.

“James, you’re a strong man. You’re going to be okay.” eventually.

“Thank you, angel.”

It was your turn to give his left hand a squeeze. And bringing it up, you gave it a small kiss before gently dropping it back to him.

“I’ll wait for you to come back, Buck.” you smiled, and quickly left the tent before you completely break down.

It was time go back.

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@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit

@tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul

Today is a great day. Fearless (Taylor's Version) + New TFATWS episode.

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amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines · 3 years

Text

Cheryl//maple syrup

Request: Can you do the secret and sins when Veronica comments on the Cheryl’s twincest and the reader defends Cheryl even though the reader kinda diss likes Cheryl.

hey! how is everyone? i hope you’re all well and good! i may have slightly cheated a bit and copy and pasted a previously written out bit from another request where they’re playing secrets and sins. but that’s only because i didn’t see the point in writing the same dialogue again. anywayyyy enjoy!

It seems that whenever Cheryl Blossom arrives at a party, the party atmosphere disappears. Maybe it’s her grating personality or overbearing need to be liked, whatever it is, within ten minutes of her and Chuck gate crashing Jughead’s unwanted birthday party, there’s already tension.

Which is not made any better by the suggestion of secrets & sins. Your friends are gathered in a circle in the living room, while you sit off to the side. You want to eavesdrop, but you don’t want to reveal your deepest, darkest secrets, not to your best friends and definitely not to Cheryl.

It’s clear everyone that’s been roped into this stupid game doesn’t want to be there. Betty shifts in her seat uncomfortably and stares at you with pleading eyes. You shoot her an unsure smile back before taking a sip of your drink and she drops your gaze, glancing at Archie before staring down at the floor.

Cheryl is the only one that looks like she’s enjoying herself, but you’re not surprised. Chaos and the chance to get dirt on everyone so she can control them even more than she already does is what Cheryl lives for.

You glare at the red-head, who’s smiling brightly as she looks around at her victims and when her eyes land on you, her eyes narrow and the smile is replaced by a smirk.

“What’s wrong Y/n? Did nobody pick you to be on their team?” She asks, her bright red lips forming a perfect pout and you can’t help but stare at them for a few seconds longer than you should. You feel your face heat up and look away, blaming the alcohol for the affects you’re feeling and refusing to believe that you’ve just thought of Cheryl Blossom as attractive.

A shiver runs up your spine at the thought and you lips pull into a pout as you stare down at the now empty cup in your hands. You scratch at the plastic and listen to the mumbles and whispers of the teenagers stood and sat around you.

Whoever isn’t partaking in Secrets and Sins, have gathered around to watch and judge, and you can’t help but lean in a little closer, they may be some of your closest friends, but you can’t help wanting to know what they’ve been hiding from one another...you’re only human and at least you’re not as bad as Cheryl.

Cheryl lives of rumours. Like Gretchen Wieners with smaller and redder hair.

“What the hell is Secrets and Sins?” Jughead asks, all eyes on Cheryl as she moves around in a circle, eyeing everyone suspiciously as she starts to explain the rules.

“Its a variation on Truth or Dare…in which we own our truths by telling it like it is. I’ll start the game with…Veronica Lodge.” She smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“Naturally.” Veronica sighs and you pat her shoulder.

“Let’s begin with the day you and your mob wife of a mother came to town for a so-called fresh start.” She says, her eyes filled with accusations and anger before she’s even gotten to her question.

You really don’t know why so many people like her, well you do, it’s because she’s rich and she bullies people into being her friend because she’s unable to make them any other way.

She’s snobby, spoilt and just plain mean, but that doesn’t stop you from sometimes staring at her for longer than you want to and definitely should.

“Tell us Veronica, what’s so fresh about defiling Archie Andrews in a closet?”

“That was your doing.” She replies confused, her arms crossed defensively against her chest.

“Moving on to dear Daddy Lodge…” She interrupts, getting more and more angry by the second. “Isn’t it true that your father, from prison, illegally purchased the drive-in land? Which makes me wonder, what else is he doing behind bars?” She continues and you glance to your side at Joaquin, who shares a very suspicious look with FP

“Well, I can’t speak for my father…but I can think of someone with a very dirty secret. Specifically, Cheryl killing her very own brother.” The tension in the room shifts and your eyes widen.

As much as you dislike Cheryl, you know how close her and Jason were and you knew how much it hurt and how she’s still hurting now because of his death. You’ve seen her crying underneath the bleachers after school, you see how her eyes are a little more dull than they used to be. They don’t sparkle as much when she talks and when she’s not spreading hate, she’s just not saying anything at all.

She smiles less when with her friends, and sometimes you think the only reason she’s horrible to people is so she can feel something. But that doesn’t excuse it and so you shake your head and earn a few confused looks as you try to stop yourself from defending Cheryl Majorie Blossom.

“Everyone knows how much I loved my brother.” Cheryl defends herself.

“Exactly.” Veronica replies. “But did you love him, maybe in ways that a sister shouldn’t love a brother?” She continues and you watch as Cheryl becomes more and more upset. “And as you got older, Jason started to think it was strange, unnatural. So he chose Polly over you. So you shot him between the eyes with one of your father’s many hunting rifles.”

Her shoulders slump a little and her bottom lip quivers as she looks around the room helplessly. The confident look she usually has, has slipped off like a mask, revealing a very sad girl underneath and suddenly you find yourself standing up.

“That’s enough Veronica.” You say, surprising everyone, including Cheryl. “Just leave her alone, it’s not worth it.” You add quietly and slowly sit back down again.

Veronica hold her hands up in defence and you force a smile before going back to picking at the plastic of your cup.

“I don’t need you to defend me.” Cheryl seethes, her eyes full of hatred as she looks at you, and for some reason it stings. You’re used to her not liking you, but her hating you, hurts you for some unknown reason and you have to take a few deep breaths in order to stop the ache in your chest.

“This game is sick.” Dilton adds and Cheryl uses the distraction to wipe away the tears on her cheek. “I wanna go next.” He adds making everyone look at him.

“Thats the spirit, Doiley. What secrets do you have to reveal to us?” Chuck grins.

“I saw Ms. Grundy’s car by Sweetwater River the day Jason went missing.” He says and everyone gasps. People mumble and whisper around you and Cheryl stares straight at Dilton, her eyes narrow. “I told Betty and Jughead, and then Ms. Grundy quit her job and left Riverdale, like, two days later. And let’s not forget that Archie was also at Sweetwater River that morning.”

“Oh, my God.” Cheryl whips her head round to look at Archie. “Colour me shocked. Archie Andrews, is that why you became a mediocre musician overnight? Because you and Ms. Four-Eyes were pulling a Mary Kay Letourneau?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t get in the gutter with them.” Veronica mutters while glaring at Cheryl.

“Wait, what? Andrews was banging a teacher?” Chuck asks, his tone a mix of surprise and impressed and you roll your eyes at him. “I wish I would’ve known. I would have added you and Ms. Grundy to the book of conquests.”

“Classy, Chuck, as always.”

“Wait a second.” Cheryl interrupts. “That also explains why Archie can’t seem to keep a girlfriend to save his life. He’s got serious mommy issues. Anything to say for yourself Arch? Were you a victim or a perpetrator?”

“Dilton Doiley plays with guns.” Betty tries to change the subject but she’s immediately shut down.

“Big whoop, Betty. So Doiley’s a psychopath. Everyone knows that.”

“Well, I guess it’s my turn now. Boy, do I have a twisted secret to reveal, starring Betty Cooper.”

“Leave her the hell alone, Chuck.” Archie threatens.

“Shut up, Andrews.” He replies. “Look, you may get a free peep show every night, but you do not know her. Hell, Betty doesn’t even know herself. Everybody knows why I got suspended, but what you don’t know...she dressed up like a hooker, in a God-awful black wig, drugged me, handcuffed me in the Jacuzzi, and well, I almost drowned until she got me to say what she wanted to hear. And then she really lost it. She actually thought she was Polly. But, hey, you knew all about this right, Jughead?” He asks. For a second, the question hangs in the air, everyone trying to figure out what to say next and how to process what they’ve just been told.

But then Jughead leaps forward at punches Chuck in face causing all hell to break loose. Everyone stands and FP shoves races forward to grab Chuck and throw him outside.

While everyone else follows them outside, eagerly awaiting a fight, you stay back and watch as Cheryl disappears upstairs, quietly sniffling as she goes. You look at the front door and then at the stairs and sigh, knowing that this is not gonna end well. She’s gonna insult you and tell you to leave her alone, but at least you can say you tried to help and then you won’t feel bad.

So you glance at the door one more time and pray that at least one person is filming whatever is happening out there, before wandering up the stairs in search for Cheryl.

The slight scent of maple syrup and the sound of faint cries coming from the bathroom lets you know where she’s hiding and you quietly creep along the slightly creaky floorboards, trying to remember which ones to avoid after years of practice when sneaking into Archie’s room in order to break him out.

You stop outside of the bathroom, light coming out of the cracks of the door and your hand hovers over the handle.

“Whoever is out there, go away.” She sniffles and you roll your eyes.

Turning on your heel, you start to walk away, but then you hear her sob and it makes you freeze.

You let out a quiet groan and curse the side of you that can’t leave people that are crying alone, before making your way back to the bathroom and slowly opening the door.

The first thing you see as you duck your hear around the door is Cheryl sat on the side of the bath. Her hands gripping the edges so hard that her knuckles have turned white. He hair has fallen in front of her face and you watch as she her shoulder shake and tears drip onto the bath mat.

“Cheryl?” You whisper and she looks up, her eyes wide as she quickly scrambles to wipe away the tears that have ruined her makeup. “Are you okay?” You ask and walk into the room. You close the door behind you and lean against it and her expression hardens.

“I’m having the best time.” She deadpans and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God is she stubborn.

“Look, I know we’re not exactly best friends. Most of the time, I don’t really like to be around you-”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” She asks and you shrug.

“But you know that if you need someone to talk to that won’t judge you or really know anything about you, you can. I’ll just sit and listen and you can cry or rant or I dunno. Just, know you’re not alone. You may not get along with everyone in this town, but we will all be here for you if you need us, all you have to do is ask.” You say honestly but anxiously while playing with your fingers.

She looks at you surprised, her lips part as if she’s going to say something and you’re sure she’s going to tell you to shut up and leave her alone, but instead she says thank you and you feel yourself relax a little.

“It’s okay.” You nod. “And for the record, what Veronica said was out of line. Everyone knows how much Jason meant to you and for her to say that is just wrong. We all know you loved your brother...a normal amount.” You add the last bit quietly and she stares at you for a few seconds before a smile twitches at her lips. “Would you like me to leave you alone now?” You ask and she shakes her head. You look around the small bathroom, trying to figure out the best place to sit and she moves along a little so you can sit beside her. “Would you like me to sit with you until you feel better?” You ask and she nods slowly, her lip wobbling again.

You sit beside her, place a gentle hand over hers and the two of you fall into a slightly awkward but not as bad as you thought it would be, silence.

After ten minutes, Cheryl stands and makes her way over to the mirror. She swipes her fingers under her eyes to try and get rid of her ruined mascara before messing with her hair to try and get it back to looking like normal.

“Do I look okay?” She turns to you and stands with her arms by her side. Your breath hitches when you look at her and you wonder how she looks so pretty even in the most unflattering light that is Archie Andrews’ bathroom.

You stand in front of her and slowly tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and you watch as she takes a shaky breath.

“Can I?” You ask, your fingers centimetres away from her cheek and she nods slowly, her eyes locked with yours and you feel yourself growing warm from the intensity. “There.” You smile once you’ve wiped a bit of mascara away from her cheek.

She grabs her bag and pulls her lipstick from it, but when she goes to apply it, her hands shake and you take it from her gently.

Your lips darts out between your tongue as you concentrate on keeping the lipstick in the lines, and you can feel her warm breath on your cheek.

“There!” You smile proudly once your finished, but she grabs your arm before you can pull away properly as her lips connect with yours in an almost frantic kiss.

You gasp a little and then relax and kiss back just as frantically, but she pulls away after a few seconds and the two of you stare at each other wide-eyed and breathless.

“Your lipstick’s ruined.” You whisper and her lips curl into a smile.

“Worth it.” She replies before pulling you close to her and kissing you again.

support my writing! if you want!

#cheryl blossom #cheryl blossom imagine #cheryl blossom x you #cheryl blossom x y/n #cheryl #cheryl imagine #cheryl x reader #cheryl x you #cheryl x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

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omg-imagine · 3 years

Text

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif??

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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Johnny Silverhand Tags: @silverse @overheardatthecontinental @meshlababy @ataraxydreams @ineedpeetalikehekneadsbread @savsselfinserts @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @donakamark

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#johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand #cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand fanfic

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supercorpkid · 3 years

Text

How to lash out – A Luthor’s guide.

Supercorp, Kara Danvers x Daughter!Reader, Lena Luthor x Daughter!Reader

Word count: 3000.

“Stop that, young lady!” Lena’s tone is harsh. You roll your eyes. This isn’t the first time she said that on the drive home. It is also not the first time you rolled your eyes at her today, and probably won’t be the last.

“Oh, come on! You have got to be kidding me.” You go inside the house trying to lose her. “I can’t roll my eyes, or sigh. What else can’t I do now since you’re controlling my every move?”

“Be disrespectful!” Her voice comes from not very far, so you know she’s following you.

“What’s going on?” Kara asks, getting up from the couch when you both enter the living room.

“Mom’s being impossible!” You huff and Lena closes her eyes, really exasperated.

“That’s it! You’re grounded! Go to your room right now!” Lena speaks a little louder and Kara furrows her brows at the whole interaction. It’s not that you and Lena never fight, but there’s usually less yelling, from both parts.

“Why am I not surprised at that?” You ask ironically. “Oh yeah, because that’s your only way to deal with things! Ya boring!”

“Hey!” Kara intervenes and you roll your eyes again. You’ve been rolling your eyes so much tonight, it’s starting to hurt.

“You don’t even know what’s going on and you’re already taking her side!” You cross your arms and harden your features. You’re ready to give them attitude. “Like always.”

“I thought I told you to go to your room, young lady!” Lena says pinching the bridge of her nose and you grunt in response. Rao, you hate the way she says ‘young lady’.

“Why don’t you send me away for good?” Those are your last words before closing your bedroom door so hard you almost broke it in half.

Man, you’re livid. You haven’t been this mad at Lena for a while. She was being very understanding with you these past months, in fact, you can’t even remember the last time you two had a fight. But now the great mother Luthor is back again. It’s like that sometimes. Sometimes she just gets so Luthor is hard not to fight with her.

You hear a knock on the door and you don’t even have to look to the other side to know it’s not Lena. You let out an exasperated sigh.

“What, momma?” Is your opening line.

“Hey!” Kara complains while she opens the door and looks at you so mad, you’re turning red, on the other side of the room. “Do you care to explain what happened?”

“She-she, uh.” You grunt. “She is so unreasonable!”

“That doesn’t explain anything.”

“What do you want me to say? She is wrong!” You yell and Kara takes a deep breath.

“Ok, listen, I want to know your side of the story, but I’m only going to talk to you when you stop yelling.”

“Oh yeah, mhm, do that. Turn this on me. Rao, you know what? You’re both so predictable!” You’re so angry you can’t stop yelling.

“I’m going to let you breathe a little. We’ll talk in the morning.” Kara leaves again and your hand goes to the closest thing to you. Before you realize, there is a picture frame flying full speed to the door. There’s a loud crashing sound when it hits the floor and you see glass flying everywhere. Kara opens the door again; she was probably not far away.

She looks at the broken picture frame and bends down to pick it up. It’s ironic, because you didn’t look at the picture before throwing it and breaking it. But it’s only when Kara’s face turns into a frown, you realize what picture it was. The three of you are on the beach on your last family vacation.

“Clean it up.”

She closes the door again, taking only the picture with her and you sit on the floor. Tears are streaming down your face, but you’re not sad. You’re just so mad you can’t help but cry.

Morning comes. You roll on your bed. You don’t want to get up. You don’t want to do anything. Usually after a good night of sleep, you wake up feeling guilty for all the yelling and by now you would probably be apologizing to Lena. She would forgive you; you would hug it out and things would go back to normal by night. But you didn’t have a good night of sleep, and you definitely don’t feel like apologizing.

“Kid, time to go to school.” Kara knocks on your door, but she doesn’t go inside. It’s just a wake-up call, you know it. You grunt and turn to the other side.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to go school, you’re so mad. And they are so annoying.

“What are you doing?” Lena opens the door of your room, making a very loud noise, a few minutes later. “You’re going to be late.”

“I have super speed.” You mumble not wanting to give her the satisfaction of being right, but you look at your clock and you have five minutes to go to school or you’ll be late.

“What you have is a bad attitude and I’m sick of it. Get up, get dressed, and go to school. And I better not have to say this again.”

“Or what?” You mumble again, kind of wishing she couldn’t hear you, kind of wishing you hadn’t said it, but unable to stop yourself.

“Oh, you didn’t!” Lena looks at your face and you haven’t seen her this upset in a long time. Maybe the last time was when you burnt down the Christmas tree at Gramm’s house on a dare. “Now!”

You stay in bed.

“I’m so sick of your sighs, and rolling eyes, and your freaking irony all the time!” Lena gets closer to you so she can use her threatening tone. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you better respect me, or I’ll make you.”

You push the blanket to the side and get up from the bed. You leave Lena behind with hair flying all over her face when, after using your super speed, you get ready in two seconds and leave for school. If she wasn’t already pissed, she would be after that.

When school is over, you don’t go to your lab at L Corp, that’s what started the fight in the first place. You go to Jamie’s house so you can vent about your mom being the worst. That’s when Lena calls you.

“Where are you?” That’s really the first thing she says.

“I think you know the answer. Don’t you have a GPS on me?”

“Go home, you’re grounded.”

“See, I knew you knew.”

“Let me make this clear for you. You’re allowed to go to school, training, and home. If you’re not in one of these places, I’ll add another week to your punishment. Starting now.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but I can. Two weeks now, and if you’re not home in five minutes, I’ll make it three. Oh, and don’t forget that I do have a GPS on you.”

“Rao, you’re the wors-'' Before you finish, she hangs up the phone. You’re glad she didn’t let you finish that word. You go home, because even though you’ve been acting insane, you’re not really crazy. Lena might not have super powers, but she has a lot of power.

Kara is the first one to get home. It’s usually like this, but you can’t help but feel that Lena is stretching her time at work because, just like you, she doesn’t want to come home and deal with all of this.

“Are you ready to talk now?” Kara asks turning the TV off, even though you were watching it. You look at her, already annoyed.

“I really doubt she hasn’t told you everything by now.” You cross your arms and fall further into the couch.

“She has. But you accused me of taking her side without knowing the full story. So, now I want to hear your side.”

“Pulitzer prize awardee, everybody.” You bitch grin and Kara breathes heavily.

“Why are you so mad she went to your lab? What were you making in there that she couldn’t see?” Kara raises an eyebrow at you.

“Nothing! Don’t you get it? That’s not the point!” You cross your arms.

“What’s the point then?”

“She doesn’t trust me.”

“Baby, that’s not true.”

“Really? Are you sure? She put a GPS on grandmother’s necklace! How are you not livid about that? It's a family heirloom and she just tampered it to know my every move.”

“Just as a precaution. She doesn’t use it.” Kara says and you scoff.

“She just used it today!” You take a deep breath and cover your face with your hands so Kara doesn’t see a tear falling. “It’s not about what’s in the lab. Did I ever hide one of my inventions from you two?”

“No.”

“Did I ever hide anything from you two?”

“The dog.” She says with a playful smile, making you frown. “Just kidding, I know you haven’t.”

“It’s just… Every time I walk in there, someone immediately calls her to let her know that. Why? Does she think I’m going full Luthor and that I’m designing a destruction weapon so I can take over the world or something?”

“Baby, no.” Kara sits on the couch next to you. She squeezes your knee gently. “She just wants to be around you. You know, you’re really cool, we just want to be with you all the time.”

“And we are with each other all the time!” You say feeling the anger coming back. You push it down again. “Momma, I’m 15! Most people from my class don’t even talk to their parents anymore. But I’m here, around you guys, all the time! Family Fridays? Aunt Alex’s house every Saturday? Training? L Corp? Home? Isn’t that enough?”

“Well, like I said, you’re really cool.” She says with a smile and let a chuckle out.

“I just want you guys to trust me.” You let your head fall. “I gave you a place to go when you need to be alone, I gave her a lead box so she could hide things from us. And she can’t even give me privacy?”

“Ok. Yeah. I hear you.” Kara holds your head to her chest and you can hear her heartbeat without having to use your super hearing. It’s extremely calming. “Listen, I think you have a point. It’s just, you’re being very aggressive. Maybe you could dial back a little and just talk to her?”

“She didn’t dial back. She didn’t even let me vent to Jamie today. She said I’m only allowed to go home, and school and training.” You can’t hold the tears any longer. “And now she’ll use the necklace against me.”

You and Kara look at the direction of the front door at the same time. Lena walks in, takes off her shoes, and goes to the kitchen. You follow her every move. She fills a glass with whiskey and you look at Kara knowing that’s not a good sign. She drinks so fast you’re surprised she didn’t spill any of it. She fills another glass, grabs her shoes from the ground and makes her way to the living room.

“Go to your room.” She says as soon as she walks in.

“Actually, I…”

“Just do as I say. Trust me, you do not want to get on my bad side right now.”

She’s right. You don’t. So, you silently get up and go to your room. You’re not even inside yet, when you hear Kara (this time without the super hearing).

“That was really harsh. She was about to apologize.” Kara says and Lena scoffs.

“She wasn’t. And I found out what she was making in the lab.” And just like that, you’re mad again.

“Wait, you went through her stuff?”

“You mean my stuff? I’m the one paying for it, I’m the one who gave her the lab, aren’t I?”

“Lena, that's a violation of privacy! You gave her the lab, that means its hers.”

“She’s making a mind wiper, Kara!” You roll your eyes. It’s not a mind wiper. For someone so smart, you can’t believe she’s being so dumb.

“Well, she must have her reasons. We have to trust her.”

“You want to trust a fifteen-year-old girl with a mind wiper?” Lena asks and Kara stands up, upset.

“No Lena.” You should’ve known. They always take each other's sides. “I want to trust our daughter with whatever it is that she is making.”

You didn’t see that coming. You go inside your bedroom and grab your notes. You run back to the living room before Kara leaves, and you throw your notes on the table in front of Lena. You stay on the other side of the room, and you don’t say a word. You see it’s Kara who reaches out to the notebook first.

“It’s called an ‘unwelcome thoughts blocker’.” Kara looks at the drawings and the calculation. “I don’t understand what it is, but the name is not catchy.”

She gives the notebook to Lena, who looks down at it, and then looks at you. She puts her hand on her forehead and focuses on the calculations. She doesn’t say anything for a while and Kara looks at you, curiously.

“When we went on vacation, mom asked me how I turned off my brain so I could enjoy it.” You’re explaining to Kara, because you remember that she was sleeping while this was going on. Lena looks at you too, but you ignore her gaze. “I had the idea of a device that could help you shut off unwelcome thoughts. That way, it could help you focus on something without distractions, or stop bad thoughts that could lead to panic attacks, nightmares, and maybe even suicide.”

“Wow. That’s incredible, little one!” It’s Kara’s reaction. You look back at Lena before she can express any emotion.

“I guess this proves you don’t trust me.” A single tear falls from your eye, and you turn on your heels and go to your bedroom.

“I wanted to believe she was wrong about this trust issue you’re having, but then you went through her stuff and accused her of something very severe.” You hear Kara’s voice coming from behind you. “You know how I feel about you drinking like this, but since you made your choice, I’ll leave you to it.”

Kara sneaks in your bedroom, and lays in bed with you. You two don’t talk for a few minutes, until she lets out a sigh and grabs your laptop on the desk.

“I’ve heard about a TV show where they cover other people’ songs. Do you want to watch it?” She turns the laptop on, and you agree with your head. “I think it’s called Glee.”

You and Kara watch it until you fall asleep. You’re glad she took your side. You’re aware you’ve been acting like a little brat with Lena, but the fact she doesn’t trust you for absolutely no reason at all was really hard.

“Kara.” You hear Lena’s voice and you open one eye, so she doesn’t see you’re up. Your momma is sleeping and drooling next to you. And it’s morning already. “Hey. Wake up.”

“Huh?” Kara wakes up confused. It’s clear she didn’t want to sleep in your bedroom as she looks around to finally realize where she is.

“Can I speak to our daughter, please?” Lena asks and you take a deep breath. Kara doesn’t say anything. She puts your laptop back on the desk, and leaves your bedroom. Lena sits on your bed next to you, and pulls you in so you can lay your head on her lap. She then plays with your hair. “Do you want to keep pretending you’re asleep while I talk?”

“Yeah.”

“Ok.” She chuckles. “I’m sorry. You were right.”

“That’s a first.” You mumble and you can hear her smiling.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything, right?” Lena takes a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff, it’s just that your reaction scared me so much. I know you’re so much better than me, but you did exactly what I used to do with Lillian when I didn’t want her to see something.”

“You’re not Lillian and we don’t have the same relationship you two have. You don’t have to control me like she did with you.”

“I know, baby.” Lena says. “You’re right again.”

“Well, that’s the second time in less than two minutes. We should stop it before it becomes a habit.” You say making her laugh again, and this time you also smile. “I’m sorry I was rude. I shouldn’t have aggravated the situation. I felt cornered and I lashed out. That was awful.”

“It was painful. We both lashed out in the worst way possible.”

“We’re Luthors, after all.” You feel a kiss on the top of your head.

“We’re Luthor-Danvers. We might get upset, but we know how to recognize our mistakes and apologize.” You hold her leg and her hands go back to your hair. “So, I’m really sorry, babygirl. The lab is yours, and I’m only going in when you invite me. How does that sound?”

“You can go in anytime. Just maybe don’t make Aly call you every time I show up at L Corp? And, maybe, don’t use the necklace’s GPS unless you have reasons to believe something’s wrong?”

“I promise.”

“And I promise I’ll be more respectful.” You look at her and she is about to open her mouth when you add. “I’ll dial back the rolling eyes and the irony.”

“Great.” She strokes your cheek. “The invention is amazing. You are amazing. I’m really proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

“I love you, babygirl.” Lena smiles at you and you can’t help but do the same.

“I love you, mom.”

#supergirl #kara danvers #supercorp #kara x lena #lena luthor #supercorp fanfic #supercorpfamily #kara x reader #lena x reader #supercorp daughter #reader insert

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bluerosewritings · 3 years

Text

Every Rose Has Its Thorns | Overblot!Riddle x Reader

You charged through the rose maze, cursing how loud your footsteps were. You'd heard Heartslabyul students talk about how insanely hard it was to even get halfway through the maze, but you never thought it would be this bad. Why, out of everything you could have done, did you think it would be a good idea to run into here?

Everything had gone so wrong. All you'd wanted was to help Ace and Deuce get out of their punishment - and if solving that with a duel meant helping the other students, great! There's no way it could end up worse than what happened in the Dwarf Mines, right?

You envied your past self's innocence.

In a weird way, you blamed yourself. If you hadn't opened your mouth, Riddle wouldn't have retaliated, so Ace wouldn't have decked his dorm leader in the face, someone wouldn't have thrown that egg at Riddle, Riddle wouldn't have freaked out and started beheading everyone, and he wouldn't have turned into... that. With that... thing hovering behind him like some sort of cruel puppeteer, looking way too familiar to whatever had tried to hurt you and your friends in the Dwarf Mines. Had you always been this unlucky?

Crowley had barely been able to say a thing before Riddle had cast Off With Your Head on the headmaster, then on Trey, Cater, and whatever poor souls that hadn't yet escaped Heartslabyul, tying them up with rose bush roots. Once again, you'd been the only one without a collar - maybe it was because of your lack of magic, maybe it was because you were from another world, you didn't know. You didn't hang around to find out - once Grim's yells at you to hurry up and get out of there snapped you out of your horrified trance, you bolted. Unfortunately, Riddle had noticed your sudden departure and chased after you, screaming your name.

You'd ducked into the Rose Maze hoping to shake him off. You wished you hadn't - all that you'd accomplished was getting yourself lost. Riddle's voiced seemed to be getting closer and closer by the minute, too.

"(y/n)!" Speak of the devil. The sudden shock of his voice nearly made you trip. "Come out this instant! Do you want your punishment to be even more severe!?"

Shaking off his words (or were you literally shaking?), you turned the corner. There seemed to be more and more roses as you went on - maybe a sign you were nearing the exit? Hoping so, you followed the blood-red flowers.

"(y/n)! I'm saying this for your own benefit! Tell me where you are, now! (y/n)!"

The leaves seemed to be disappearing under the red petals. A war between the two pieces of nature, two things that should be living in harmony instead being tainted by greed and ruining their peace. You had to be nearly out.

"(y/n)!!"

There were barely any leaves left now.

One last turn. One last turn and you should be--

Stuck. The roses didn't lead to the end of the maze at all. They led to the center of it.

A statue of the Queen of Hearts, like the one in the school among the other Great Seven, seemed to mock you with her smug expression. Now that you got a good look at her, she looked eerily similar to the specter haunting Riddle. Of course she did.

"So this is where you've been."

You turned so fast you fell over. Your mind couldn't even register the pain from your new cuts as you stared up in terror at the twisted form of Riddle. The boy himself seemed to be conflicted on whether to look at you with sympathy or smirk.

He settled on disappointment. "If you'd have just answered me earlier, you wouldn't be in such a sad state now, would you? Good grief."

Though he approached you at a normal pace, even that was enough to send a shiver down your spine. Desperately you tried to push yourself off the ground. Only it didn't work - you looked down to see yourself literally rooted to the floor. Following the root's path, you saw they were coming from the two rose bushes levitating by Riddle's side. No surprise there.

Out of options, you looked up at this new version of Riddle looming over you. Trying not to let your fear show, you glared at him. The look only caused Riddle's eyebrow to twitch before his emotions exploded forth.

"Don't look at your Queen that way! Change your expression immediately!"

"W-Why should I?"

"You...!" Blood rushed to Riddle's face. "Ever since I met you, everything you've done...! Causing a disturbance at the entrance ceremony, encouraging Ace and Deuce's idiotic behaviour, even managing to turn Cater and Trey against me...! I should despise every single part of you! So why...!?"

Before you could ask what he meant, the rose roots shot their way up your back, repositioning themselves so they pushed you upwards. You had no time to react - not that you could do much, your hands were still restricted, now bound together - as Riddle tangled his fingers in your hair and forced his lips on yours.

It took you a second to process what he was doing. Once you realised, you begun trying to wriggle your way out of his grip. Unfortunately, this only annoyed Riddle further - he tugged at your hair, causing you to yelp. Riddle took the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Any cries of protest went ignored.

You weren't sure how long the kiss lasted, but when Riddle finally pulled away you wasted no time gasping for air. There was a metallic taste invading your mouth. Your first thought was that it was blood but you couldn't raise your hand to check.

Riddle kept your foreheads touching, his hand still in your hair to keep you from moving away. You thought you were the only one that was dealing with a lack of air, but it seemed that Riddle's power up couldn't keep him from panting.

"Why...?" Riddle looked you in the eyes. The dark intensity scared you. It was a mix of anger, regret, confusion... and something else that somehow scared you even more.

"Why did I have to fall for someone like you...?"

Love.

Somehow the ferocity of the first kiss hadn't made it click for you. Now, however, the rush of fear gave you the strength to fling your head back and crash it onto Riddle's.

Only your foreheads were connected but it was enough. Riddle yelled in pain and let go of you. You fell on to the floor but were quick to get up as the pain was distracting Riddle from his control spell.

"(y/n)...! HOW DARE YOU!?"

You make it to the other side of the Queen of Hearts statue before roots burst out of the ground and latch on to your ankles. Caught mid-run, the sudden stop causes your to fall face-forward onto the floor. More roots appear to take advantage of the opportunity, latching themselves around you, binding you to the ground.

You couldn't turn your head, but you could feel Riddle approaching, glaring at your back. You weren't sure what was worse; the foreboding sense of darkness from Riddle's stares or the crushing feeling from the roots.

By the time Riddle was standing in front of you, black dots were decorating your vision. Tears were dripping out your eyes as you were unable to stop them. The unknown anxiety from what Riddle would do made breathing even harder. Riddle gritted his teeth, still nursing his head.

"Why do you insist on being so disobedient!?" Riddle growled. "Is it just because it's me!? You have no problem listening to those first-year ruler breakers! Is it them? Did they influence you? It has to be! It's their fault!"

"No...!" You croaked out.

Every word Riddle spoke caused the roots to become tighter. The tears fell even harder as you gasped for air like a fish out of water.

"No? Look at yourself!" Riddle scoffed. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd just followed my rules! I should have approached you from the start... I should've seen what leaving you alone would do. Damn it!"

"Pl...ease...!" You could barely make out Riddle's words. A dull ringing was going off in your ears, making it hard for you to focus.

"You had so much potential, right from the beginning, even if the mirror said you were magic-less, I saw it!" Riddle continued to scold himself, unaware of your desperation. "I should've told Crowley to place you in Heartslabyul, where I could've kept you on the right track... instead you had to become a rule-breaker! Why!?"

"I'm... sorry...!" You cried out.

The words caught Riddle's ears. He finally turned to you, realising what he'd caused. Gears turned in his head before he finally spoke.

"You're sorry, what?" He tried.

"I... I'm sorry, my Queen...! Riddle...!"

Instantly, the pressure was released. The sudden rush of oxygen to your lungs made you choke. Even though the roots were off you, you stayed laying on the ground, not wanting to push Riddle into doing that again.

"(y/n)." You looked up. "Come here."

Riddle stiffly opened his arms, as if embarrassed by the act. You hesitated, unsure if it was a trap. Riddle frowned.

"(y/n). Come here, now."

Out of options, you slowly pushed yourself off the floor. You still hadn't completely recovered, so you more stumbled than walked into Riddle's arms. It didn't seem to matter - the second you hit his chest, his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight against him. The similarity to what had happened not long ago earlier caused you to tremble. Riddle didn't seem to notice.

"Thank goodness." Riddle sighed in relief, burying his face into the crook of your neck. "You're not too far gone... you just need to properly learn the rules... that's a relief..."

The smile you felt caused your skin to crawl. Riddle began tracing kisses up your neck, across your jawline then connecting your lips again.

The kiss was softer this time, a chaste one that would've made your heart race if the situation wasn't so, so wrong. Even so, the fear of angering whatever you were kissing made you lightly press back. The monster in Riddle's form pulled back slowly, a child-like smile on its face.

One hand came away from your waist and ghosted against your neck. It sighed before you felt a wisp of magic circling your neck. While you couldn't see it, you felt the new accessory adorning your neck - a black choker with a red heart outlined with gold at the front; with no clasp to take it off.

Riddle hummed in approval, happy at the sight. He wasn't as pleased when he saw the look in your eyes - a poorly concealed fear at what he'd done. He sighed, giving you a quick kiss before leaning you into his neck now instead. He raked his fingers through your hair in a soothing manner.

"I'm doing this for your benefit." He explained. "It's my fault for letting you hang around bad influences, but it's okay now. I'll make things right for you. You'll be following the rules perfectly in no time."

Riddle placed a kiss on your forehead and leaned next to your ear. He pressed a finger against the heart of your choker.

"You will, or it's off with your head."

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts x you #overblot

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