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maybeitsalivescribbles · 1 year

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So, I wanted to make a sequel to this:

To recap if you won't read it: Amnesiac Supervillain (who wants Sidekick for their power), Bubbly Hero (who wants Sidekick to eat three meals a day), Emo Teen Sidekick (who's a mind-controller), and most importantly, a Cat.

We're good ? We're good.

***

Supervillain still didn’t have their memories back, but some things lingered. It didn’t took long to hate Hero, for example, them and their bubbly voice, their eyes that were perpetually unfocused, their way of tilting their head when they were confused (and that seemed to happen often). Something was wrong with their face. What, they couldn’t say exactly, but the whole made them want to burst out of their cell and skin them alive, just to wipe it out.

That was normal, right ?

Of course. In the case of Hero, at least, that was normal. Everyone else had to have the same opinion about them, obviously. Everything about them was conceived to be aggravating. The fact that they were trapped in a cell did nothing for their mood. The rugs, the carpeted walls, the TV, the way the room looked cheerful – all of this was wrong. In their mind there were visions of dark gloomy dungeons and they were quite sure they’d rather be there – anywhere far from that sinister, stupid cheerfulness. A cell was a cell, no matter how hard you tried to conceit that fact. (Plus, the color arrangement was very distasteful.) The only pleasure they had was singing as badly as they could in the tub that was in their tiny bathroom. The pained expressions of their guardians when they went out had been slightly entertaining, but it was nothing like before, whatever that meant.

“Do I have to see you ?” they asked Hero tiredly.

Their old foe opened their eyes wide.

“ Of course not ! But I thought it would do some good for your memory.”

They smiled in return.

“ I guess this wouldn’t hurt.”

They tried not to show their disliking too much. They weren’t sure of the consequences if they refused anything from them, so they forced themself to relax. It proved to be very difficult when Hero pulled out a picture and showed it to them.

“ This is Jellybean," they announced proudly. "Remember ? That was the kitty you kicked and that I’ve adopted.”

“I’m sorry, couldn’t we talk about our fights or something a little more... substantial ?”

Or anything that is, you know, not your stupid cat. It was definitively not a “kitty” anymore. Hell, this beast wasn’t even cute. It was a white, fat blob who gave the objective a rather grumpy look. It would have been rejected from a petting zoo.

“ I beg your pardon”, said Hero. Their voice froze all at once. “This is my little tiny perfect Jellybean who’s very soft and pretty. I cannot think of a better subject. Sometimes she even rolls on her back and it’s adorable.”

Oh well. I knew there was going to be torture involved one way or another, Supervillain thought. Putting as much sympathy as they could in their voice, they asked:

“What about your sidekick ?”

“ What about them ?”

“Last time I’ve seen them, they were wounded. I hate to think I’ve hurt them.”

On that point, they were mostly sincere. It was the kid's fault if they were there, but well, that seemed fair enough. They liked how gloomy they looked.

“They’re fine”, assured Hero. “Convalescing, that’s all. They’re a little angsty after what happened, so I’ve bought them a video game where you can kill lots of people. That’s how kids cope these days, right ? It does them some good to blow up steam.”

Supervillain sighed, resigned.

“Enlighten me about Jellybean.”

Hero grinned.

“Look ! How ! Cute ! My ! Kitty ! Is !”

Every word was punctuated by another picture brandished in front of their face. Jellybean, taking a nap on a pillow. Jellybean, drinking from a bowl. Jellybean, standing in a spot of sunlight.

Jellybean, looking at them with green eyes. Staring.

Supervillain took a step back before realizing it.

“Are you okay ?” asked Hero.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I have a headache…”

And then, a memory came. They knew before reliving it that they didn’t want to.

Supervillain was in a house. Not theirs, obviously. Not with all those damn pastels. Not with this kind of rubbish furniture. Also, they’ve just busted through the door, and it was in shambles.

So, not theirs.

Yet they’d entered like they owned the place. It seemed empty, but they knew better.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, little one !”

They pushed through a door. Sidekick was standing up against a comfy couch and they were already sweating from the effort. The blanket they had was at their feet. Behind the kid, a TV screen indicated a game over. The teen raised their hand.

“Don’t,” they squeaked. “Take another step and I will end you.”

Supervillain smiled.

“Don’t overdo it, Sidekick. The charm that blocks your powers is still working very well, as far as I can see.”

“I know what it is, you pompous asshole. I was there when you cursed me, remember ?”

Supervillain raised their hands in an appeasing gesture:

“ Now now, Sidekick, I’m not here for fighting. I want to talk.”

They looked around:

“Are you happy here ? Really happy ? You know, I see you running behind Hero and I feel sorry for you. That’s not a feeling I have everyday. You’re worth so much better than that.”

Sidekick raised a single finger in answer. Not to be deterred by such a childish gesture, Supervillain kept on with their monologue. They explained how power was good actually, that inspiring fear was even better, that the stolen money and fame didn’t hurt, and of course that the dark side had much, much better fashion. (And as Sidekick was wearing only black, surely they would agree on that one.)

“But better than that, you stop caring ! Who cares what the others think of you when they’re gonna die anyway ? This stupid Hero loves to forgive, but it’s so much more satisfying to tear an idiot apart limb by limb. I’m sure they would tell you that’s bad, but how can they say that when they've never even tried ? They’re full of prejudice, and that’s what’s wrong in our society today.”

Sidekick sneered. Supervillain was growing tired. It was a long time since they’ve tried to talk to a person to convince them, and they felt they were not given the attention – nay, the awe – they deserved. So, they switched to a more familiar and much more pleasant tactic.

“You know what ? Actions speak louder than words. I’m bringing you back to my lair and I’ll show you how you torture someone to submission, and it shall be very fun. It’s bonding activity time !”

Sidekick didn’t answer. They didn’t budge. With their fists clenched and their lips pursed, they didn’t look so well. Supervillain had to admit, they felt a little disappointed the kid wouldn’t at least try to run away.

“It’s all right if you can’t torture an innocent person by yourself”, they promised. “For the first time, I can do most of the work, you’ll relax and watch.”

And that was that. Several things happened very fast. First, Sidekick threw themself at the comically old-fashioned phone on the table near by. Second, Supervillain rushed to stop them. Third, they tripped and landed on their face. Their head had banged against something which, at first view, didn't exist. They raised their hand and tried to feel the obstacle.

Oh. That was a forcefield. A pretty powerful, one, in fact. Neither Hero nor Sidekick had this power, so they hadn’t thought to check. It was probably a gift from one of their friends. They cursed silently while Sidekick’s voice resonated in the room, slightly hysterical:

“Hero ? Supervillain is here – the bad, bad grown-up ! They said, they said...”

The old phone crackled in answer:

“Don’t worry, I’m coming over – and remember, you’re protected at home.”

With difficulty, Supervillain stood up. So, Sidekick was protected by a measly, stupid forcefield ? The whole thing held by two little crystals placed from each side of the room. Now that the surprise effect had worn off, that was pretty pathetic. Had they both thought this would hold Supervillain for long ?

Well, that just made them angry.

The forcefield shivered. Supervillain wasn't called a master of Dark, Black, Not Very Light and Absolutely Not Colorful magic for nothing. With the right formula, that thing would disappear fast. It was a matter of minutes.

Sidekick had to know that. So why that look on their face ?

“Meow.”

Supervillain froze for an instant and turned slowly.

“Meeeeeeeow”, insisted Jellybean.

The cat walked slowly towards them both. Avoiding Supervillain, they jumped at the couch to go to Sidekick, and rubbed itself against their dressing gown. The teen scratched lightly its head, keeping their eyes on the intruder.

The Dark, Black, Not Very Light and Absolutely Not Colorful sorcerer needed a couple of seconds to accept the fact that the animal had crossed the forcefield as if there was nothing. It didn’t seem affected at all. Currently it was stretching, proudly showing to the world and to Supervillain in particular what there was under its tail.

Supervillain suddenly found themself lacking of any kind of patience. Inky sparks emanated from their body and began destroying the parts of the room that weren’t protected. Paintings, photos and some shelves exploded. A pillow covered with cat fur was burnt to ashes.

Jellybean turned its head and its gaze crossed theirs. It wasn’t a pretty cat. In fact, she was a downright absolute – marvel.

No, wait, that wasn’t right.

Not only a marvel, a wonder. A pure feline jewel.

Something was wrong -

No, it wasn’t. She was perfect. She was Jellybean.

Her green eyes burned into their skull.

Could you believe that this pure perfect wonder was hungry and wanted a snack? Could you believe the wickedness of humans who weren’t rushing to humbly feed her ?

Alas, Supervillain was depressingly devoid of cat food. Useless and tormented, they fell on their knees in both a demonstration of forgiveness and an invitation to pet her.

The green eyes gave then a scornful look. If you cannot be useful to me, then despair in abject solitude, said the gaze. For I am Jellybean, and I can only bought by the finest things in life, like salmon, chicken cream soup, or maybe half a lizard.

Supervillain‘s brain was burning. They let out a single shrink of agony, and then blacked out on the floor. Only one thought had the time to cross their mind and it was -

“What the fuck ?”

They suddenly stood up in their cell, facing Hero from the other side of the bars. They were shaking.

“What is this beast ?”

Hero tilted their head:

“ I thought it was obvious. She is a perfect cat with a lot of self-confidence. Also, incidentally, a mind-controller like Sidekick. They get along like a house on fire, I have pictures of them together in my wallet if you want, they’re so precious -

“A mind-con- a goddamn mind-controller ? Do you have any idea how dangerous - ? She nearly fried my brain ! Sidekick has nothing on her ! ”

“Ah but you see, this was my place, I wasn’t here and you weren’t invited.”

“How can you bear living with such a thing ?”

“I won’t lie, it’s a budget. With your capture, I could gift her a fluffy ball with feathers. She loved the cardboard box that went with it.”

“You knew! You knew all along I’d go at your place and I’d face her!”

Hero smiled warmly to Supervillain:

“I’m so glad you remembered something ! It might be the most important thing, too !”

They kept their smile, all teeth and glint, as they leaned on and enunciated slowly:

“Don’t. Ever. Touch. My. Fucking. Kid.”

Back to Hero x Villain Masterlist

#writing snippet #(a rather long snippet actually but never mind)#heroes and villains #sidekick #supervillain #kitty cat #my writing #writeblr #original writing #writers on tumblr #hero villain community #hero x villain

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myriad-writings · 2 years

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call me - e.m.

-eddie munson x reader

-2k words

-tattoo artist eddie. bff robin. that is all. thank you :)

-warnings: excessive sexual tension, also a really mid intro but that’s whatever. also once again, not an ounce of proofreading

“It’ll be so fun!” Robin urges you, sitting cross legged on your basement floor where the two of you were having a sleepover. “Please come with me, I think you’ll actually like it.”

You snort at her, “Super fast moving needles aren’t fun, Rob, they’re actually terrifying.” She groans and makes a dramatic show of falling backwards. She had been trying to convince you for the last hour to come get a tattoo with her. She’d been wanting to get one ever since she turned 18, and thought it would be a fun best friend activity for the two of you to get one together. You, on the other hand, were freaked out by the idea of tattoos. You didn’t have anything against people that had them or anything, and you actually thought they looked super cool on most people. But you didn’t want to find out how high your pain tolerance is the hard way.

“You’re such a baby,” she pouts, and the expression looks so out of place on her that you have to laugh. “It doesn’t even have to be matching, you could get something super small!”

“Oh my god, fine, I’ll go.” You surrender, and Robin immediately sits back up with a wide grin. “If it means you’ll stop pugging me about it. I’ll get like… a flower or something.”

She blows a raspberry at your basic choice, and you throw a pillow at her face with a laugh. “I can help you come up with something more creative, don’t worry.” She assures you through giggles and you roll your eyes at her.

“Whatever, asshole. Go to bed.”

The next morning when Robin excitedly shakes you awake for breakfast, you remember your frustrated agreement to get a tattoo with her. And you knew that she wasn’t going to let you live it down.

“How are you so energetic this early in the morning?” You tease as she fixes her hair in the passenger mirror of your car. “I’m just excited that you came around. And don’t worry, I know this guy and he’s super cool. Well, not super cool but you won’t be nervous around him or anything. He’s chill and used to play D&D with the kids and he’s really nice.” Her rambling only stops when she takes a bobby pin out of her hair and holds it in her mouth for easy access, but then she’s back on her word vomit again, just slightly hindered by the pin held between her teeth. “He actually might still play, I’ll have to ask Steve. He had this club and everything for it in high school, kind of a huge nerd and outcast. But he’s so nice, I swear.” She only stops when you pull into the parking lot of the tattoo parlor, and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this guy’s name?” You ask, suddenly interested in an attempt to calm your nerves.“Eddie,” she answers easily while getting out of the car. “We met through a series of outlandish circumstances,” for once she doesn’t elaborate and just shuts the car door to punctuate her sentence. Here we go, you think to yourself.

The inside of the shop was actually a lot less intimidating than you pictured, and though it did very little to affect your nerves, you feel slightly more comfortable in the atmosphere than you imagined you would. There was some heavy metal record playing in the back of the room at a low volume, and each of the stalls was decorated to the individual artist’s taste. The exposed brick walls were lit with warm toned studio-esque light fixtures, and the hardwood floor was immaculately clean, which you took as a good sign considering the level of sterility needed for this sort of thing.

While you were taking in your surroundings, Robin was at the front counter reconnecting with who you assumed must be Eddie, the friend she had told you about mere moments before. She saw that your attention had been diverted from the interior of the building and beckoned you closer. “This is Eddie,” she introduced with a knowing smirk.

“Hey, Robin told me you were a little nervous.” The smile he gives you is so subtle, but it makes you lock your knees in fear of them going weak. You manage to offer him a small smile in return and collect your thoughts well enough to respond.

“I’ve never done this before,” you explain, and the sound of his soft laugh makes your face heat up. You can tell he isn’t laughing at you, though, and his level of understanding is actually very soothing. His level of attractiveness is what’s causing you trouble now. Robin can tell what’s got you shifting in your place, and she clears her throat to call your attention away from Eddie with that same smirk from before.

“Well you two have fun, I’ll see you on the other side,” she says in feign ominosity before going to one of the empty stalls that she was called to.

You roll your eyes at her before turning your attention back to Eddie, who seemingly hasn’t taken his eyes off you. The thought makes you shy once again, and he says, “Let’s go, princess,” before leading you back to the furthest back area, right by the record player you spotted earlier. He notices you standing awkwardly by it.

“Sorry, I can turn that down,” he offers and moves to adjust the volume dial without waiting for your response.

“No, it’s okay, I just haven’t heard this song before,” you explain, and he flashes you one of those butterfly-inducing smiles again.

“I get that a lot,” Eddie says simply before patting the leather bench in front of him. “Have a seat.” He turns his back to you and grabs a hair tie from the table in the corner, tying most of his curly hair in a low ponytail to get it out of the way. “So, what are we doing today?”

You realize when he turns back around that you’ve been staring at him, and you blank for a second before stumbling over your words to answer him. “Um, I was going to get a, uh, rose. Like this big,” holding your fingers about three inches apart to demonstrate the size. You’re suddenly embarrassed at how generic it is, but Eddie just reaches for a binder and flips through it for a second before handing it to you at an open design. “Like that?” He questions, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. You examine the design before nodding. It was surprisingly delicate in comparison to the rest of his vibe, but the style fits the charming and sweet demeanor he’s shown you so far. It’s the exact size you showed him, with fine lines that you think wouldn’t take too long to sit for if it was too painful. “Yeah, this is perfect.”

At your approval, Eddie nods and takes the binder back from you, sliding the design you both agreed on out of its page protector and tracing over it on a more transparent paper. You’re absolutely enamored with him and the way he moves, shrugging off his slightly worn demin jacket to have more freedom of mobility. The muscles in his forearms flex slightly as he sketches, bent over on his elbows to get a steady and precise outline. A few strands escape from his haphazardly done ponytail and fall around his face to frame it, prompting him to blow out the side of his mouth to get them out of the way.

By the time he stands upright again, which is only about five minutes, you’re even more flustered than before. You make a resolve with yourself that you won’t stare anymore, instead focusing on the wall so you don’t come off as a creep. This resolve proves to be even harder than you thought, because the second you commit to it, he’s asking where you want the tattoo. You point to the front of your shoulder, a few inches above your bicep if your arm was fully relaxed by your side. Then he’s cleaning the area with a rubbing alcohol wipe and applying the template he had just sketched out, much like a temporary tattoo.

The whole time, you’re holding your breath as his fingers graze your skin and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You glance back down at him, and see his tongue poking out from the side of his lips as he focuses, causing you to giggle.

The sound catches his attention and his eyes snap back up at you before realizing what you’re laughing at, and chuckling out an apology. “Sorry, it’s an unconscious habit.”

You shake your head at him. “Don’t be sorry, it’s kinda cute.” Oh my god oh my god I just said he was cute, you think, but you’re comforted by the fact you can’t get any more flustered than you already are. However, seeing his eyes avoid yours as he clears his throat as his cheeks tint almost imperceptibly pink just proves you wrong.

He talks to you about what he’s doing when he preps the ink and everything else, but your brain is elsewhere as you watch his fingers move so deftly with the tools in front of him. Then, he looks back up at you to make sure you understand, and your eyes widen in panic for a second before scrambling to confirm that you heard him (which you didn’t).

Eddie just gives you an amused chuckle before moving towards you to start the tattoo itself. “Just relax, let me know if it bothers you too much and I can stop. Okay?” You nod, actually hearing him this time and he sits down on the chair in front of the bench.

As the needle buzzes, you squeeze the edge of the leather beneath you, but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. It’s like a sting, a continuous one, but it’s not something that’s unbearable. Eddie looks up at you through his lashes as he pauses to replenish the ink. “Doing okay up there?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting used to it.” You assure, though it comes out a bit breathless. He smiles at you anyways and tells you, “You’re doing great,” before continuing. Oh, he has to know what he’s doing at this point.

The whole thing is over before you know it, and you’re actually kind of upset that you don’t get to sit this close to him anymore. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, but you’re not sure if it’s from his praise, his touch, or the needle itself. Could be a combination of all three, honestly.

Eddie gives you the spiel on tattoo aftercare and hands you a sample size of the ointment he recommends for when it starts peeling and itching. “And it will itch,” he promises. “Don’t scratch at it, or else you might peel some of it off. Can you do that for me?”

It takes everything in you to respond normally, nodding at him for what seems like the thousandth time in the past hour. “Yeah, sounds good.” He smiles and tells you that you’re all set, sending you on your way to the front of the building, where Robin is waiting for you.

She’s grinning from ear to ear as she holds her wrist out to you to show you what she got. “Show me yours!” She asks excitedly with a little bounce in her step and you move your sleeve to the side to show off the rose. “How was it?”

“Not bad at all, really,” you admit while walking out to the car. “You were right, he is super sweet.”

She grins at you, “See, I told you.” You roll your eyes at her gloating as she continues speaking.

You take the ointment out of your pocket to put in your bag, but then you catch sight of something written on the back. Robin’s words die mid-sentence as she watches you read, but you weren’t even listening. Taped on the back of the bottle is a piece of paper with Eddie’s number, and a smiley face.

Robin watches your expression flush and a smile forces its way on your features and nudges you playfully. “Well, it looks like this tattoo won’t be your last.”

#not crazy about this one #but its out there #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #tattoo artist!eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things reader

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miekasa · 3 years

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love talk

+ pairings: eren yeager + (fem) reader

+ genres and warnings: it’s not important that eren is a tattoo artist i just wanted to share bc i gave him tattoos here :’), fluff i think, smut/nsfw content, if you see a hint of eremin then no you don’t </2

+ word count: almost 2k, sickening innit luv

+ notes: yeah, still thinking about eren speaking german during sex bc he’s losing his mind hehe. i suppose this is the… softer version. might post another one later, who knows. and yes, i did almost name this pussy talk.

Unbeknownst to him, Eren Jaeger speaks three languages.

The first two are obvious, but English is his preferred language; the one you’ll find him speaking most often. It only makes sense, seeing as it’s what the overwhelming majority of people, media, and signs spew at him.

The second is more reserved; something you might assume given his name, but not know for sure unless you asked, or stuck around long enough to catch him rambling excitedly to Armin in German, with broken slang phrases of English interspersed. It’s fascinating—cute, moreover—the way he stumbles back and forth between both tongues; and the difference in tone between them. You’re not sure if your own bias is peeking through, but you’re certain Eren and Armin both sound a little… meaner in German; more sarcastic, at the very least—and you wouldn’t be surprised to find out they were talking shit the whole time.

Though, there is a special, reserved intonation to his mother tongue that shows itself when Eren’s around you. It doesn’t seem to be by choice—gone beyond comprehension that he’s forced to revert to grunted expressions and curses in a language foreign to his surroundings. You assume them to be curses; you never can confirm, and Eren seems to not even be aware of his switching in the heat of the moment, can never quite recall what he was saying to you.

There are times when he’s reduced to mere sounds, no comprehensible words between the hundreds of thousands he knows—only guttural moans, and breathy sighs, and he seems to not even be able to understand himself. You have to admit, it’s a bit of an ego boost to be able to fuck your boyfriend stupid in two languages.

And at first glance, Eren doesn’t seem like the type of guy to know about anything outside of himself. He doesn’t seem like the full-sleeve, three ear piercing, tattoo artist kinda kid; but Eren Jaeger speaks the language of pictures, of symbols, of images, that he is able to decipher and give meaning to upon creation. He’s got a penchant for art, and a vision bigger than himself, so it’s only right that he takes his knowledge and applies it in its most permanent form. The tattoos are more than a hobby for him—they’re an extension of himself, his art, his language; and his body is the only canvas fit enough to capture them.

So, here, with Eren laying on his back, chest exposed, arms bent for his hands to rest against your waist, you get to see the culmination of all the words and all the pictures, from all the languages he’s deemed important enough to find a place on his skin.

“Do all of your tattoos have a meaning?” you question, reaching your hand up to trace over the delicate waves that ride along his right collarbone.

“No,” Eren winces when you move—just enough of him to feel an ounce of friction inside of you, but not enough to give him what he wants. He wiggles himself a bit, desperate for something, “Not at all.”

It makes you chuckle, with a sort of disbelief, at both his words and his actions, “You get things tattooed on your body that don’t mean anything to you?”

Eren lets out a shaky breath, followed with a boyish smile. He blinks at you slowly, lids fluttering and hands gripping tightly at your body, “Learned that not everything has to have a deep meaning to want to keep it around,” he tells you, right palm moving to venture over your tummy, and up your sides, “Somethings you just love.”

You don’t miss the lilt in his voice on the word ‘love,’ but you play it off, rolling your eyes at his deliberately sweet affections, and then, gently, your hips, “Pretty poetic for something with no meaning.”

“Yeah, well, Armin taught me that,” Eren grits, hands fastening themselves at your hips again.

“You talk about Armin a lot when we’re in bed you know,” you taunt him, moving your fingers to trace over more of the tattoos that litter his right shoulder, “Something I should know about?”

Eren shivers at the feeling—of your fingertips on his skin, and what he swears was an intentional clench around him, “You don’t seem to mind.”

You smile at him, enjoying the contortions of his face when you run your hands down his chest, palms pressed lightly against his pelvic bone. Eren bends a knee, but does he best to remain still, and you can’t help but to chuckle. He looks pretty when he’s trying his best.

“I’m greedy,” you tell him, raising your hips, and pausing in your words as you slowly lower yourself back on to him.

“Trust me,” Eren scoffs, a façade to cover up his reddening cheeks and shaky thighs, “I know.”

He tries to move his hips up, desperate for something more; for you to fucking move, but, you keep your hips perfectly still. Instead, you reach your arms behind you, and onto Eren’s thighs, cementing them to the bed. He groans, his hands sliding down to your own thighs, fingertips digging into your flesh.

“And you called me greedy,” you huff, amused, as Eren rolls his eyes beneath you. When you’re sure he’s not going to move, you bring your arms back around, palms splayed on his stomach, “Relax. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”

“Honestly, in an ideal world, this would be happening when I was playing COD, not when I was already impossibly hard with morning wood. And with a lot less teasing on your part.”

You have to laugh—genuinely giggle—at Eren’s blunt honesty. He’s unintentionally charming; another linguistic skill he seems unaware that he’s proficient in. You can tell he doesn’t understand the source of your amusement, but the look in his eyes, the twinkle in his irises lets you know he’s too far gone to even care.

“Call it a lesson in self-control,” you say, moving your hands to his sides in time with a shallow grind of your hips, “Besides, I’m admiring you.”

Eren keeps his hands anchored on your thighs, shivering at sensitivity of his dick coupled with your hands stroking over his pecs, “Lesson fucking learning—babe, fuck, please—”

“Shh—not yet,” you coo, and reach to pull his arms off of you, leaving you with room to admire his sleeve. You take pity on him, holding his right wrist with both of your hands, before slowly beginning to bounce on him.

Eren squirms, his free hand reaching to grab at the flesh of your ass, eyes blinking open to watch his cock be buried inside of you. The relief is instant—for the both of you—immediate groans and shallow profanities slipping past your lips as you build a steady pace to ride him.

“Tell—tell me what this one means,” you question slowly, keeping your right hand around his wrist, but using your left to point to the tattoo; a stylized line art of crossed wings.

“Some shit about freedom,” Eren grunts, fingers twitching, “Fuck, babe—more, please, I’ll—”

Eren cuts himself off with a whine, and you hiss yourself, lifting your body all the way to the tip, before lowering yourself again at an agonizingly slow pace. At this rate, you can feel everything; every vein on his shaft, every twitch of his cock. You feel Eren deep inside of you, even see where the bulge outlines your tummy.

You still yourself for just a second, catching your breath, anchoring yourself on Eren. You’re pretty far gone yourself, but you want more; for yourself, and for him. You do your best to stay coherent, slowly grinding atop of him, questioning him about another tattoo on his arm, ignoring the way his palm grips at your bicep. It’s a small one, with detailed Japanese characters that you can’t understand, but appreciate anyway; it’s one of your favorites, and you ask Eren about its meaning, clenching yourself around him as punctuation to your question.

Eren sucks air between his teeth, left hand pulling back to run his fingers through his hair, a grunted word in German falling from his lips. You smirk, but let him try to answer you.

“I don’t fucken’ know,” Eren grumbles, head thrashing from side to side, “It’s really fucken’ hard to remember anything—shit—like this. S’fucking torture.”

“Hm,” you hum, not satisfied; eager for more of Eren’s love language, “Tell me something in German, instead, then.”

But Eren can only babble beneath you; sounds incoherent in either language—reduced to desperate whines and grabby hands at your thighs, waist, boobs—anything. You lean forward, letting go of Eren’s tattooed wrist, and reaching to ghost your fingers over his lips.

“Come on, Eren, you’re usually so good at it when we do this,” you taunt him, words coated in sweetness that distract you from keeping up your pace, “Just want you to talk pretty to me. Tell me something, baby.”

Eren’s eyes travel from your fingertips, up your arm, neck, and to your face. When he meets your gaze something shifts; eyes heavy with want, and bitter with dissatisfaction.

So, he reaches for your extended hand, laces your fingers together, “Something like what?”

You wrap your fingers around his, then do the same with your left hand, “Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yeah,” you affirm with a smile, finally satisfied.

Eren grunts, bending his right knee for leverage before he flips you over, hands still intertwined, but now pinned over your head, harshly pressed into the pillows below. He buries his head into the crook of your neck; licking a stripe along your collarbone, where you’d teased him minutes before. Then up, up, up, your neck to the shell of your ear, retreating downwards to suck on the skin just beneath your ear, nipping with pointed teeth.

Eren keeps his weight on you, the length of his cock sliding over your slick folds while he bites angry, red blotches into your skin—a kind of impermanent tattoo of his own making on your body. The friction is good, but not enough, and you wonder if Eren intends on teasing you as long as you’d done to him; but, he breathes heavy breaths up your neck again, before mumbling a series of foreign syllables into your ear.

He hovers over your face, satisfied by the daze in your eyes; the slight openness of your mouth. It’s you who looks dumbstruck now, a foreigner to his ministrations; and for once, he’s in control with his second tongue.

“What—what does that mean?” you finally ask, squeezing your eyes briefly when Eren teases the tip just past your entrance.

Eren chuckles, airy, gritty, and cocky all at once. He pushes his cock inside of you, balls deep, only to pull out almost all the way, before leaning forward just slightly, so that his bottom lip grazes over yours.

“It means I love you,” he whispers, hips bucking forward, “Try to remember that, ‘cause I swear I’m gonna fuck you stupid, baby.”

#aot x reader #snk x reader #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren smut #eren jaeger x reader #levi x reader #aot smut #aot imagines #snk imagines #eren fluff

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nagipops · 3 years

Text

KONOHA ELEVEN IN A ZOOM CLASS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, hinata, kiba, shino, neji, rock lee, and tenten

WARNINGS: mentions of food

NARUTO

definitely has forgotten that he was unmuted multiple times

or his camera was accidentally turned on

you could just see him sprawled on his bed with a bowl of instant ramen on his lap and a blanket wrapped around himself

EARRAPE SLURPS!! rip headphone users.

sometimes he notices that his camera’s turned on and you can see him freak out and scramble to turn it off

but he accidentally unmutes himself too and so you just hear panicked yelling

his device topples to the floor with a loud crash and he screams so loud istg

the next thing you see is naruto’s face hovering over the camera in fear just before his camera turns off and he’s muted again

the teacher is so confused?? naruto should i call an ambulance

but when he’s not eating in class, he’s sleeping in class

too busy sleeping to leave the zoom at the end of class so he’s always the last one left in the meeting besides the teacher

always asks sakura what happened during the zoom and she is FED UP

SAKURA

enters the waiting room 15 minutes before class is actually supposed to begin

spends the next 15 minutes rearranging her work area, making sure she’s prepared for the day

sits properly at her desk with her hair smoothed down and her face positioned perfectly in frame

if no one else has their camera on, she’s the only one with it on

seriously, she ALWAYS HAS IT ON

and she never leaves the screen somehow

diligently takes notes, uses the “raise hand” feature every two minutes to ask a question

sometimes it can get a bit annoying, even for the teacher

but she almost always gets perfect marks

acts like in angel in class, but after class... no promises, naruto!

SHIKAMARU

this man can barely stay awake during missions, so during a zoom? HECK NAH

shikamaru is literally me,, half asleep during lessons but somehow gets amazing grades

everyone’s either pissed at or envious of him (especially naruto)

obviously does not have his camera on

and rarely ever unmutes

uses the chat feature to answer the teacher’s questions but this man is basically asleep so its so incoherent

“shikamaru, what is a hyperbole?”

in chat: “a hyeprbole is a exsaggerayed phras,e”

teacher definitely thinks he’s cheating on tests

INO

either a) daydreaming about boys or b) checking herself out in the zoom camera OR c) secretly fuming at sakura’s know-it-all behavior

the two girls definitely compete to see who can raise their virtual hand first

"ahem, ahem- sensei? could i answer this question?"

her voice gets all sickly sweet and sakura HATES IT

the two of them totally got caught insulting each other in the private chat

100% the type of student to rewrite her notes after classes with various markers and colored pens and pretty fonts and patterns and whatnot

loves doodling flowers in her notebook during boring lessons!

CHOJI

another strong contender for the Loudest Student award!

not on purpose though, he just forgets that space bar = unmute, and plays some jumping game in another tab (like the no internet dino game!)

also,, rip headphone users

c r o n c h munch munch munch

are you kidding this man's chews are loud enough in person, but with a HEADSET?! hoo boy.

has conked out several times during class

just imagine the name Choji Akimichi with a profile picture of a bag of chips light up with the green box around it with a thunk

the teacher and class is so confused

but then you hear mumbles of "barbeque... chips... barbeque..."

and you realize that the man fell asleep onto his keyboard

he sleeps through the rest of class

HINATA

shy bb has never ONCE turned on her camera

the only time she's ever unmuted was to say "here" during attendance on the first day of school

if the teacher ever takes attendance again, she just uses the raise hand feature

what if naruto-kun thinks my voice is ugly? what if i accidentally turn on my camera? what if the teacher thinks i'm not paying attention? what if-

poor baby is too busy worrying about showing herself on zoom to actually pay attention

actually gets good grades though and her classmates wonder if she’s even there

her zoom pfp is definitely just a purple google “H”

KIBA

has the CUTEST zoom pfp hands down

it’s a selfie of him grinning cheerily with baby akamaru

100% has his camera on the whole time to show off his pup

he loves seeing everyone’s faces on screen melt and aww at the lil big doggo

sometimes akamaru just walks in front of the camera and blocks kiba from view and you just see a massive wall of white fur on screen LMAO

even though kiba’s muted, you can see him and akamaru bickering about who knows what

or even play fighting,, these two get into full on BRAWLS during class

just imagine akamaru shoves kiba into his desk and his camera crashes to the ground overturned so you see the ceiling and the occasional dog tail wagging in the corner

seriously, can the teacher ever catch a break with this class?

the answer is no.

SHINO

his zoom pfp is just a tick.

a singular tick

totally answers questions in chat with proper capitalization and punctuation

shikamaru’s improper answers tick him off

“A hyperbole is an expression that is greatly exaggerated. They are used in order to create emphasis.”

has never unmuted in his life either

he’s so unfazed by everything that goes down in class that it’s funny

if anything the slightest bit RELATED to bugs comes up during class, in 0.00238 seconds this man has an entire essay about them posted in chat, almost like he had it copied and READY to paste

everyone's definitely shocked that there’s actually a human listening behind a tick profile picture

NEJI

a very diligent note taker

seriously, this man writes like a printer; perfectly even handwriting that looks like a font, a million words per minute

everyone asks him for his notes after the zoom because they’re so neat (especially naruto, to neji’s dismay)

he gets excellent grades since he’s so organized and focused

just wishes the zoom would be over so he can work alone in peace

really hates unmuting so he often gives one-word answers in the chat

“Yes” “47” “Present” “Goodbye”

has used a zoom reaction ONCE in his life and he has never wanted to crawl into a hole and perish more

it was a complete accident,, mans was just trying to open the chat to type in his answer, but in a cruel twist of fate he clicked on the 😂 reaction

and he just sat there for ten excruciating seconds in complete and utter shock and shame for ten excruciating seconds as he prayed for it to disappear

tenten would never let him live that down

ROCK LEE

Zoom Reaction Enthusiast

😂😮👍🎉❤️ 24/7

naruto accidentally unmutes himself? 😮

choji falls asleep on his keyboard? 😂

neji answers something correctly? 👍

tenten received the highest score in class? 🎉

akamaru appears on screen? ❤️

unmutes whenever he needs to, but he thinks the little emoticons are so silly and cute

otherwise, he is EXTRA FOCUSED and EXTREMELY DETERMINED to learn all of the things

he’s the first to unmute whenever the teacher asks if the class can see the screen share, hear them correctly, etc.

never takes his eyes off the screen!! he could be missing out on important information

I FEEL LIKE,, i feel like he would totally keep his camera off when he’s muted but whenever he unmutes he would also turn his camera on

so when he says a quick “yes!” his camera turns on but before his camera can adjust properly to the light he mutes and turns his camera back off so his face is just super dark for a split second LMAOOO

tell me im wrong

TENTEN

exasperated by this entire class

thinks her and neji are the only sane ones in the class and it’s true

wants to tell sakura and ino to stop competing and just focus on learning, since they’re the only other girls in the class besides hinata

plus she’s just fed up with all the lazy boys

takes great pride in passing every assignment, test, or exam with flying colors

teachers pet, but the quieter type who stays after every zoom and sends lots of emails regarding assignments and grades and whatnot (unlike sakura and ino who rub it in the teacher’s face)

doesn’t like helping other people besides neji, girl’s got a soft spot for him since they have a mutual respect for each other

but if you’re a handsome prince, maybe she’ll help you out!

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

Text

Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately.

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.”

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I — yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have — I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken. “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

#bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader

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greywindys · 3 years

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New g mix analysis????

There were so many songs....God. But anyhow, yes. I'm ready to tackle this. The theme is once again “Tips for _____”, in this case, “Tips for 2022.” I'm going to alternate between 2D and Murdoc, as if they're in conversation. That's nearly 22 songs in total (2 of 2D's are instrumentals). I'm dying. Obligatory disclaimer that this is just for fun and obviously, shipping is dumb and will never happen. ANYHOW:

Security by Amyl and the Sniffers (Murdoc): Murdoc didn’t have to go so hard in his opener. It’s been a while, so I could be forgetting things, but is the most straightforward he’s been on these mixes. “Security, will you let me in your pub? // I’m not looking for trouble, I'm looking for love.” Tell us how you really feel. The opening verse is 2Doc in a nutshell. “Distracted you with all of my bullshit // I covered myself in distractions // Colors and patterns, you couldn't see the real me // I wanna deceive you, you're stupid, I'm fast.” Yeah, he’s been running away from 2D for over two decades now. Enough is enough!!1

150 by Porj (2D) - Hopefully, this is the right song. The only lyrics seems to be “Tell me what you want me for, me for…” Anon, I’ve only looked at 2 songs and I already know you’re correct. They’re basically talking to each other.

R&B by English Teacher (Murdoc) - “I've been writing R&B for you // I’ve been making you a tea.” Excuse me??? Murdoc literally made 2D tea. Who’s making these G-Mixes? What are you trying to do here? Also, I want to point out “Thing is, I've got a taste of what it feels like to be close enough // And I hope I can get my mind right so I can keep it up.” It’s very early to make any assumptions about what they’re going to do with Murdoc’s character, but lines like these always make me hopeful that they’re at least considering making his character more than a 2 dimensional villain.

Dark Blue by Caroline (2D) - Very little lyrics again. Just “I want it all // So tell them.” All of what? All the power? Full control of the band? (Let me have my evil!2D daydreams) All of Murdoc? Honestly, idk.

The Overload by Yard Act (Murdoc) - The return of angry activist!Murdoc. I love that Murdoc.

Strawberry by Doss (2D) - G-Mix maker, please. We were just reminiscing about the 2Doc strawberry story a few days ago. This song is more optimistic. In the artist’s words: “‘Strawberry’ feels like a pause, a punctuation between past and future moments. It’s about realizing that you are good and ok.” I picture 2D reminiscing about his relationship with Murdoc, and feeling okay because after everything, he’s still alive and inspired.

Clockwork by Lime Garden (Murdoc) - This song is about, per Lime Garden, “shedding light on the apprehension of adulthood.” Obviously, we all know Murdoc is an adult, but I’m sensing a theme here - coping with transitions in life. Murdoc, for all his terrible choices and near death experiences, is actually very risk averse in matters of relationships (platonic, romantic etc). But in his mix so far, he’s expressing a desire to commit to it, if he can; take the plunge and trust someone with all of himself *cough2dcough*. I mean, I’m not trying to sway him in one direction or another, but 2D did just say “he wants it all”….

London, I Love You but You’re Bringing Me Down by Malady (2D) - This one is weird. Activist!2D? Or at least a departure from the last song. Critical!2D, perhaps. Someone can correct me if I’m wrong, but Kong Studios is in London now, I think. Is 2D finally being more open about his fatigue with the rigamarole of touring, promotion, a constant audience, parties etc? That’s pure assumption based on personal hc, but I’m just saying.

Wet Dream by Wet Leg (Murdoc) - The artist call this song a break up song inspired by a period of time during which their ex would text them about having a dream about them. So, between 2D and Murdoc, who’s doing the dreaming and who’s doing the texting? Hmmm. I wonder if the answer is in 2D”s playlist…

YKWIM by Yot Club (2D) - Another break up song where the singer is “scared to be alone with their thoughts of what could have been and what is not.” The lyrics are very 2D ngl - “Seems like I care too much // When I'm all alone, oh no // I feel like I care too much // When no one's at home for me.” This kind of conflicts with earlier songs suggesting an more evolved 2D. But also, fair. Murdoc has always been his biggest obstacle emotionally and psychologically.

Landline by Binki (Murdoc) - “You're like a landline // Always keep my hands tied // Wonder how I like you and lie to you at the same damn time.” Literally so many of Murdoc’s songs are just like. “2D, you’re my anchor. You understand me. But I’m afraid of how real this is getting so I’m treating you like shit or running away, but I think I’m ready. Okay, maybe I’m not.” He came in so strong in the beginning!

Not Into You by Brooksie (2D) - As the title suggests: "Dude, she's just not into you, gotta move on, move on." Now, whose perspective is this from? Is it 2D trying to convince Murdoc that he's more over him than he actually is? Or is it 2D trying to convince himself to move on because Murdoc is never going to figure out his feelings, which must mean he's not as "into" 2D as he claims he is. 2D's just figured it out before him. Or is it broader...is 2D telling Murdoc he's not "into" him the way he was in P1. Sure he cares for him, but he isn't bending over backwards for him without question anymore. This is the most optimistic read, imo. 2D loves him, but his love is healthier now. he can move on if he has to.

GDP by Bob Vylan (Murdoc) - Political!Murdoc makes an appearance. Thank you Murdoc.

Anybody Else But U by poolsideconvo (2D) - I was forced to listen to this because the lyrics aren't easily google-able. It seems to be "Anybody else but you" repeated over and over. Something notable - the lyrics to the songs on 2D's mix are sparse relative to Murdoc's. My initial read is that this is reflective of how easy their relationship could be vs how hard Murdoc makes it. 2D's not incredibly complicated. He just wants to know what Murdoc wants. But Murdoc is going through a thousand different reasons to stay or go 24/7, so he can't even answer that simple questiton.

South by Wu-Lu ft Lex Amor (Murdoc) - Political!Murdoc makes his second appearance.

Jessica by Surya Sen (2D) - "Come on, Jessica // I know, I know // You're tired of the runaround." This one is also ambiguous. Who is Jessica in this situation? Murdoc? Or is this 2D talking to himself again.

Hung Up by The Mysterines (Murdoc) - I looked at the song title, and I already knew where it was going. "Will you ever come and let me know? // 'Cause you always leave me hanging me on." He literally always is, Murdoc, I stg. I also want to take this moment to ask: where exactly are the tips for 2022 in any of these songs? I don't feel like I'm getting any meaningful advice here. I feel like I'm getting unwillingly pulled into the relationship drama of two manchildren.

Rah That's a Mad Question by Barry Can't Swim (2D) - Instrumental. Thank god.

I am the Mud by Cheap Teeth (Murdoc) - No one seems to have posted the lyrics anywhere, so I had to listen again. "Your hands 'round my body. My dirty lizard body." I hear that. This sounds like a song you drink to in the pub.

Riviera by Loods (2D) - Another instrumental. Bless.

Handsome Man by Wednesday (Murdoc) - Murdoc's final song. There's a lot of Gorillaz-esque imagery in this one: "Holdin' a crossbow in a family photo," "Sending the biggest smile from Tokyo," "Whistlin' past a graveyard smash // With broken glass from a car crash." The end sounds like Murdoc has his decisiveness back. "The only reason I’m coming home // Is for my second hand handsome man." But who knows.

Intersection by Cortese (2D) - An instrumental. But I'll say something anyway. An intersection is "a place or area where two or more things (such as streets) intersect." So, while there may have been a lot of break up songs on these playlists, I think it's notable that 2D's final song is similar to Murdoc's in that there's this suggestion of meeting again, or at least crossing paths. Just something to chew on.

Anyhow, that's my liveblog. I may think of more later, but this more optimistic than I thought it would be. Overall impression is that 2D is coming into this a little more mature, but still attached to Murdoc. Murdoc thinks he's matured too, but time will tell if it's a false, transient sense of bravado. They both seem to think they'll find meet each other in the middle, some middle, eventually. But you know, they could still fail or the writers could ignore the hard work of whoever is in charge of these mixes (an unsung hero and agent of chaos).

#asks.#Anonymous #2doc #gma

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perilouswritingadventure · 2 years

Text

Six and a half beginner's writing tips

I have some experience as a submission reviewer. I’m also an avid wattpad reader, which is… a whole other can of worms, however, it also means that I’ve read a lot of amateur writing. And there are some things I’ve noticed that may help you improve.

Punctuation

Ah, yes. Punctuation, my best friend and greatest enemy all in one. This one is a pet peeve of mine.

Please, please, please end your sentences with periods and start them with capitalisation.

Commas are used for pausing points. Points in dialogue where the character takes a little breath before continueing (‘My friend, Rachel, told me about your problem.’). They’re used for summaries (‘My favorite animals are elephants, platypus’, and hummingbirds.’). They’re used to put two sentences, which could have been separate sentences, together.

A hyphen is used to connect two words. (‘That’s a real eye-opener.’)

An en dash is read as ‘to’ or ‘through’. (‘Chapters 10–12 will cover this material.’)

Lastly, an em dash is the most versatile one. This is the one you can sprinkle into your writing, using it to cut off character’s sentences, in the place of commas, or just for your style. (‘But, Anna! You can’t—!’)

Sadly, if you’re on a laptop like me, and don't see an en dash or em dash, press the hyphen button twice, or thrice ;)

Dialogue punctuation

Quick fire!

Use commas to end dialogue if you put a tag after it. (‘Hello,’ she said.)

Use a period if you don’t use a tag, or use an action! (“Hello.” or “Hello.” she waved.)

Em dashes for dialogue interrupted by an action. (“Please—” she held out her hand. “—help me.)

Commas to introduce text! (He said, “Hello.”)

If you use an exclamation mark, there’s no need to follow up with ‘he shouted’. Same goes to question marks.

If you’re using quotations within dialogue, use single tags. Or double tags, if you normally use single tags. (“And then he was all like ‘No, you have to stay in your room!’”)

Show, don’t tell

We’ve all heard this one, but how do you actually utilize it? I’ll be honest, I used to have problems with this. I still do, sometimes. You can show a character is sad, by painting a picture. ‘Her lips trembled— tears rolled down her cheeks— and her eyes were turned to the floor.’

You can also simply say: ‘She is sad.’ The trick is when you say what. If you’ve got a novel full of description only— you might bore your readers. You don’t need to describe a character brushing their teeth in the morning, unless the teeth brushing gets interrupted by alien kidnapping.

When you should always show, instead of tell, is with characterisation and relationships. You shouldn’t have to tell us that your main character is a genius, show your main character in ways that will make your readers think, ‘Wow! This character is a genius!’. Don’t say that the villain has been reformed and deserves a second chance, show us how they’ve changed. Don’t say that this character is your main character’s true love, show it.

Pacing

I’m going to talk about pacing in scenes specifically, not pacing in your entire story. I have one quick and simple tip. If you want to show the passing of time in a scene, use description. Your characters are lovingly staring into each other's eyes for an extended period of time? Describe what they see (the color of their partner’s eyes, the way their pupil extends), what they feel (their clothes scratching their back, a hand lovingly carressing their hair, their partner’s breath on their lips), maybe even what they smell. It’s a good way to make the reading actually feel like time has passed.

Descriptions

How do you make fun descriptions? Well you might have heard the expression ‘paint a picture’. You can certainly paint a picture, but what you should be doing is making your reader feel like they could step in the book. Write with all five senses. Describe tastes, smells, feelings and of course sights and sounds.

Have your character interact with the environment, and have variation between action, dialogue and description. (But! Be careful not to start every sentence with a pronoun, like ‘She smelled the red roses’!)

Have your sentences vary in length and structure. If every single one of your sentences is five words long, and uses the same build, it can get very monotonous and boring.

Formatting

I am… a fan of formatting to say the least. I use it for the aesthetic, to put emphasis on words, or simply because I feel like it fits my style. Formatting is another pet peeve of mine, so here’s a few tips!

The tip top rule! Start a new paragraph every time you change the: time, place, topic and person!

If you want to put emphasis on a word, you can use italics.

Alternatively, you put this word (or sentence) as a single paragraph. Or both. (Like the Oh moment.)

However, don’t overuse either of these last ones, it can ruin the emphasis.

The most important writing tip anyone can ever give you

Read! Read, read, read, read. A lot. And read widely. Your favorite genre and your least favorite genre. Classics and modern books. Fiction and nonfiction. There’s truly no better way to improve your writing. It’s like real life EXP books, if you're familiar with video games.

And write! Write so much. Anything that comes to mind, write it down. Write it all. If you wanna write, and don’t know what, look up prompts until you find something you like. Who cares if it’s only a rant about how bad your day has been? Who cares if it’s only a paragraph long? Just write.

I hope these were of some use! If they weren’t, then kudos to you.

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #writing tips #motivation

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collecting-stories · 4 years

Text

Sext - JJ Maybank

Request: I know you got a lot of requests already but if possible, could you do JJ x reader where the reader sends him a dirty text while they’re hanging out with the pouges?

A/N: I’ve never sent a dirty text and I’m terrible at them!!

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

JJ sat on the other end of the couch, Pope in between the two of you, Kiara, Sarah, and John B on the other couch as the five of you watched the movie Sarah had chosen for movie night. Kiara had been the first to suggest having a movie night, just the five of you relaxing, no parties, while your parents were out of town. You leaned back on the couch, looking over at JJ as he tried to jam a handful of popcorn into his mouth. Not exactly the most attractive thing in the world but you had known JJ long enough to have seen him in some fairly compromising positions. Shoving popcorn in his face wasn’t the most attractive but it wasn’t the least attractive either.

You glanced his way again as the movie continued and JJ looked over, winking at you before turning back to face forward. Though neither of you had said anything to your friends, you and JJ had been dating for a few weeks now, since he’d slept over at your house for a couple days to stay away from his own. You had both agreed not to tell anyone, at least not yet. He’d sat further away from you, seemingly on purpose, but that didn’t mean you had to sit through this boring movie without bothering him just a little bit.

You sat up a little, pulling your phone out of you back pocket. JJ was exceptionally good at dirty texts. He sent them all the time, on an almost consistent basis, and you never knew what to say back. Usually you just sat there flushed, staring at the screen until finally you just gave up and tried to start a new conversation. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be good at texting JJ like that, you thought about replying all the time, thought about being able to make him squirm the same way he made you squirm.

-I wish we were alone right now-

It was a weak start but it was something. You didn’t want to jump in wholeheartedly but you had taken some pictures a few days ago and as often as your mom sent you articles about ‘the dangers of sexting’ you’d taken them with the express desire to send them to JJ.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, seeing your name on the screen and glancing over at you curiously, before unlocking his phone to read the message. You did your best to keep yourself facing forward, watching the movie instead of being obvious and watching JJ. You wanted him to retaliate just so you could keep messaging him, go further into this moment where the two of you could exist alone while your friends sat right there, completely unaware.

-Yeah, whys that?-

Now was the real hurtle. The dirty talk part you were so bad at that you should’ve known better than to start this. It was definitely something you couldn’t finish. You tried to think of a reply that sounded even remotely sexy, everything you’d read online, and you’d done an embarrassing about of research on the topic, only felt cheesy and lame and you definitely would’ve broken up with you if you read one of those. And afterall, this was JJ, who shoved popcorn in his mouth and said dumb shit to you all the time that was arguably more embarrassing than a few texts about why you wanted him alone. You knew why. But the saying it part was hard, because despite all the dumb stuff JJ said, he could be pretty descriptive when he wanted to and it never sounded lame.

You should’ve just sent him a picture, you had a fairly decent collection, most taken Kylie Jenner style on the floor of your bedroom in front of the mirror, but now it would seem out of place, or maybe you were just over thinking things.

-cat got your tongue?-

JJ texted you again and when you looked over at him he grinned. It was that sure fire, ‘you started this’ look that he always gave you when you tried to flirt and failed miserably. You angled your phone away from Pope because if you were already embarrassed you’d be even more so with him sitting there between you, catching a glimpse of your phone as you pulled up the camera roll. You found one that didn’t quite give everything away, you sitting just so that you were covered but also naked. There were others with lingerie on but maybe you’d save them for random whenever’s. You sent it along with a promising ‘pictures worth a thousand words’ hoping that was okay.

You peeked over, watching for JJ’s reaction, smiling when he sunk down further on the couch, biting his lip.

-when did you take this-

He’d been at your house the last couple days and he definitely would’ve remembered you having a photo shoot. You didn’t answer, just sent another one. Angled again, but giving away more than the last one. He shifted again, clearly uncomfortable in a good way, as he looked over at you. This time though, you kept your eyes on the movie, phone turned over in your lap as you tried not to give him the satisfaction of your gaze.

Before he could answer, simply because you were enjoying having him be the one who was flustered and looking like he didn’t know how to proceed, you sent him the full on picture that you had been completely embarrassed to take but had resolved yourself to. You put your phone back in your lap, face down so no one could see if JJ texted you back and you glanced over, watching him open it, his whole face going red as he shifted in the seat again.

“Dude, stop moving,” Pope elbowed him, glaring at JJ. He’d been squirming in his seat since the first text you sent and he was sure he annoying everyone but he really didn’t care about anyone but you and the pictures you’d sent him.

“Sorry, sorry.” He got up hastily, phone clutched his hand so fiercely that his knuckles were white. You heard the bathroom door slam down the hall and Pope stretched out, happy to have more room now that JJ was gone.

You waited for anything. A text back, some kind of appreciative message confirming that he liked the pictures. Instead there was nothing, no reply since the first picture and even that hadn’t been anything other than a piqued interested in when the picture was taken. When more than 15 minutes passed and Kiara mentioned that JJ was still holed up in the bathroom, you offered to check on him.

“Be careful.” John B joked and you rolled your eyes as you headed down the hall. The bathroom was toward the end, far enough away that no one could see the door. You knocked, looking back down the hall as a somewhat out of breath ‘one minute’ sounded on the other side of the door.

“Jay?” You asked, ready to knock again when the door flung open and JJ pulled you inside the bathroom. You bite back a surprised yelp, knowing that alerting the others would not bode well for either of you. He let the door swing closed again as you pushed you up against the sink, lifting you so he could stand between your legs. Hands on your bare thighs and you didn’t even get a moment to breath when he started kissing you, feverish almost and you grabbed the back of his head to keep him there. It didn’t last long as he left a trail of wet kisses down your neck, doing his best not to leave any visible marks on you. “And here I was, worried you didn’t like the pictures,” you teased, slightly out of breath as you spoke.

JJ pulled away so he could look at you, leaning in close as his hands moved from your thighs to your ass, trying to shimmy your body into his. “Are you kidding? Fucking hell, you can send me nudes any day. In fact,” he kissed you to punctuate his new idea, you should send me like one nude every day for the rest of our lives.”

“Assuming we live for a while…I’ll probably get old and wrinkly.”

“Don’t care.” He shrugged.

“How romantic,” you teased, tapping his shoulder, “we should go back out, they’ll wonder where we are.”

“Fine.” JJ groaned, stepping away from you. While you slid off the counter, JJ finished zipping up and buttoning his shorts.

“Wait, did you come in here to-“

“My fucking gorgeous girlfriend sent me naked pics, what do you think?”

You smiled, any nervousness from before melting away as you followed JJ down the hall to where your friends were. Kiara looked over, seemingly uninterested in more than the fact that you had returned, remarking that you both missed the best part of the movie. You apologized, sitting down on Pope’s left side and pulling your legs up onto the couch. As Sarah suggested another movie, someone else’s pick this time, you looked over at JJ and he winked at you.

Taglist: @heavenlymama @vindictive-hearts @alexa-playafricabytoto @dontjinx-it @randomficsandshit @niamhobrien @strangerthanfanfiction713 @tovvaa @freckled-and-daydreaming @harleylynn @bibliophilewednesday @dpaccione @bolaurel @poguestyleskye @beautyandthebleh @under-a-canyon-moon @teamnick @stevie-buck @bijleegiregi @vitaminekabc @minigranger @just-smile-darling @obxsummer @damonsalvawhore27 @isqbella @tomzfrog @fangirlvoice @phantompogues @98starkeys @ilovejjmaybank @lemur46 @khiaraaa-in-spacee @babygal-babygal @niya-savage @divvrx @princess-of-the-fandoms @thecaptainsgingersnap @jenjie @yourprincess-maybe @wowmaybankk

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austarus · 3 years

Text

Harrison Wells (Eobard Thawne) x Reader Ballistic Confrontations (3/3)

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif belongs to me!

**If you understand what I’m referencing to in the end, well the Kudos to you. You win 85 Stardollars.

***Trigger Warning: Scars from mentioned self-harm

****Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

Word Count: 6397

Part 1 Part 2

Eobard said nothing. Instead, he disregarded your look as his gaze locked back onto Kara, as the Kryptonian woman threw him a hateful look. The futuristic genius did not care. His baby blue hues jumped back to where you stood before stepping away to the side tables. Now we proceed, the speedster mused to himself, picking up a scalpel and arranging his surgical tools. The stage needed to be set tonight. All the actors were in place, and he needed to complete his role. A delicate procedure, if you will. But he needed to be bought some time. Surely, Barry and the others would be back by now from Earth-X. He was, in essence, reluctant to cut up the Earth-38 Kryptonian for he held no malice towards her. She was just an unnecessary casualty in all this. And after all, if Barry Allen were to die it would be at his hands. Not on some tainted Earth at the firing range. You’re centuries late, Mr. Allen. As always.

You glared at your genius scientist for not cluing you in on whatever it is he had planned now. What was his plan? Play along until ‘Uh oh, it’s too late to turn back’ and ‘Oh, look. We’re doomed’? A grunt caught your attention, Kara was trying to break out of her restraints again. “Kara,” you whispered, now standing beside her. “Save your energy, please.” She eyed the restraints on you before taking a slow breath in. Kara wanted to throw her guts up, but she pushed back the bile caught in her throat.

“I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Honey, you are looking anything other than fine.”

Kara pursed her lips, feeling fatigue wash over her once more. “Where… where are the others… that were here- at the labs? Are they…?” There it was, always concerned for others when she should be concerned about herself.

“No, no they’re fine. They’re in the pipeline. Iris and Felicity-” You stopped yourself, noticing Eobard’s head snap towards you. A pang of guilt echoed in your body. “They’re being held there too,” you lied, giving her hand two small squeezes for her to indicate the lie. If he held things back from you to entertain the Earth-Xer’s with legitimate reactions, then so would you. Supergirl nodded her head subtly in understanding. You were too focused with Kara; you didn’t notice Eobard move. “You’re going to be fine; the others should be back. They wouldn’t go out just like that.” Iris, Felicity, where’s that help? Just where are you guys? You couldn’t leave if you wanted to. Not with the others lurking around. Not when there was a chance you could tip them off about Iris and Felicity, then there was Eobard. Overgirl would instantly go after him for betrayal.

“I… I really hope not. Alex-” Kara trailed off; her eyes drooping shut as her shoulders sagged. Her hand went limp in your cuffed ones.

“Kara?” You looked up to see a tube in Eobard’s hand with a syringe in it. Empty as its contents have already worked its way into Kara’s system. “What are you doing?!”

“I’ve given her a mild anesthetic,” you pursed your lips as his statement. Eobard sighed, “Not to worry, that should have her out for 30 minutes. Strong enough for a Kryptonian, but not strong enough for too long even with the red sunlight on her.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I needed to talk to you without anyone listening.” You followed how Eobard’s eyes glanced at the door. Outside stood two more Nazi guards.

“You could have just pulled me to the other room,” you whisper-yelled at him.

“No, I couldn’t have.” He crossed his arms at you, replying in his own gravely hushed tones. “I needed to keep up the image of the bad guy in front of Kara.”

“Why? Why, when she could understand that you’re not really with them? Why let her also think of you as one of those heinous monsters?”

“Because her opinion of me doesn’t matter. Not hers, not the Earth-Xers, not anyone else.” Eobard punctuated his words before taking your hands in his, placing a gentle kiss on the back of one. The intensity in his eyes never broke as he spoke once more, “Only your opinion of me matters. You matter.”

You pursed your lips, your eyes unable to leave his heated gaze. Oh, if only we weren’t in this mess. If only we had more time… Kara crossed your mind once more, the ominous thrumming noise that came from the machine that generated the red sunlight. A frown found its way onto your face. “Wait, you said 30 minutes? Shouldn’t she need time to recover from the anesthesia to be given another one?”

Eobard sighed, letting go of your hands. He crossed his arms. You weren’t going to like his answer. “No, not in this case.” Dread welled up in the pit of your stomach.

“What…”

“The General herself requested, more like ordered, me to have our Kara awake during the… transplant.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You responded slowly. Your eye slightly twitched as anger started to consume your thoughts. You wanted nothing more than to rip your friend’s doppelganger apart.

Eobard very well sensed your feelings, he always hated putting a frown on your face or seeing you upset to this extent. “Look, I don’t want to do it either,” the speedster retorted hastily as he unfurled his arms, his hands gently grabbed your shoulders, “but I can’t defy their word especially with you around.”

“Why? Am I suddenly a liability?”

“Never, but they’ll figure something is up with you here with me. Conspiring against them. You already saw how easily Oliver-X caved to his Kara regarding who you are to me.”

Technically, that’s my own damn fault, but a calculated risk to get to Eobard. I can live with the repercussions. “But that’s technically what we’re doing on the downlow, Eo.” You echoed one of the lessons he taught you years ago. “One weakness is better than none, it can be essential to creating the downfall of another.” He had mainly told you that regarding Eilling, who hadn’t ceased to stick his nose into Eobard’s lab experiments and projects. The general had eyed you as a means to get to him, but in reality you were a strength to Eobard. Not a weakness. And the speedster very well knows you can handle your own; after all, the both of you trained constantly. Pushing each other’s limits. Though where you hesitated to kill, he compensated on that, especially in the right moment. “We can have the Dark Archer on the ropes. If anything, he’s made it evident that his wife is a liability to his rational thinking.”

A proud grin ran along his handsome face. “Exactly, my little bird. But they will hurt you, even if you can hold out against them you can’t take them both on.” Even I cannot, not with where I’m at with my speed. Not with the slight dampener they have on my suit. The potential self-destruction if removed from the emblem by my own hands, is a heavy weight on my chest. If I can get rid of them, I can defuse the detonator.

“I’m not worried about me; I’m worried about you! I can’t- I can’t be the one to lose you again.” Eobard shifted his gaze away from you. “Look it’s not going to come to that.” He knew what you were suggesting. “Ok? Worst comes to worst I cause a distraction.”

“No, over my rotting corpse.”

That sounds eerily familiar.

“We don’t have a choice, if it buys us time then I’ll be damned not to try!”

“That’s why we adapt to the situation and find alternate routes to keep off their radar. I know what I’m doing.”

“Precisely. Adapting. So let me do what I can if it comes down to it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” You bit back a retort at the way he raised his voice. “Just trust me.” He wasn’t asking you to.

“Kinda hard with your track record,” You deadpanned, and Eobard just rubbed his face.

“Have I ever lied to you?”

“Is that a question you seriously want me to answer?” A small cheeky smile made its way to your face. You couldn’t help but tease him right now, of all times.

Eobard huffed out a chuckle, pulling out some white surgical clothes from a drawer. Have those always been there? “Just follow my lead, ok? Whatever happens stay on their side, whatever happens to me stay with Barry and the others.” Eobard gloved his hands while the guards re-entered the medical room along with Oliver-X and Kara-X. Speak of the devil. You pursed your lips and held a stoic expression even as Kara-X sauntered to her respective gurney, smirking widely before a violent coughing fit erupts from her. You didn’t miss how Oliver-X moved towards her, yet you averted your eyes to the protruding machines the other soldiers were bringing in for the ‘necessary’ operation. Two guards held you by the arms where you stood. You swallowed thickly as everything was being sterilized and prepped.

***

Harry caught the ball once more after it ricocheted back to him. He’d been letting his frustration out on it towards the cell wall. Something didn’t feel right. He cursed himself, knowing he should have been carrying some weapon or breaching device to have gotten away from the Dark Archer. Or any intruder for the matter of this invasion. Yes, he pushed the emergency labs alarm, but he still got whacked and dragged to the pipeline. He could have done more damage to these damned Nazi’s, but he was helpless. I should have carried my gun or my pulse rifle, what was I thinking? His hand gripped tightly at the ball as regret never left his side. I should have seen this as a possible attack. It’s a simple strategy. Divide and conquer. Yet they were all too fooled, too hasty to attack to even logically see this move by the Earth-Xers.

“Wait, Thawne’s here?” Cisco’s outburst broke the Earth-2 genius out of his thoughts. Harry cracked his neck and directed his attention back to Cisco’s squabbling from the cell near him. The Wells doppelganger was getting pretty tired about hearing of Thawne. A feeling of dread picked at his insides, his thoughts going to you and what Barry had discussed vehemently earlier.

“Yeah,” Caitlin responded. “I haven’t seen or heard from her. We only briefly got a visit from Iris and Felicity not too long ago. But they didn’t know where she was either.”

“Do you think maybe she… you know?” Cisco made an implication. “I mean, does she know?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin trailed off. “But Iris had said that she left them in the Time Vault to buy them time. Whatever that could mean.”

“Well, on the one hand, they either got to her and are holding her hostage somewhere or, on the other, she rendezvoused with Thawne and now they're going all Mengele on Kara.”

Harry rubbed his face irritably at Cisco’s words, by now you would have known. There’s a high possibility. Whether it’s from seeing Thawne face-to-face or by overhearing someone. By now, Harry’s sure, you would have made a choice. Where did you go, though?

The lights flickered in the pipeline before shutting off as Caitlin finished. A dull blue tint lit up in each individual cell as the pipeline was divulged into a dim darkness. The emergency lights were the only things on. Every person was on high alert at this point.

“Ohohoho, my girl Felicity definitely pulled that one!” Cisco chirped, making a loud clap.

Dinah tried her canary call again, but to no avail. The cell would not budge. Harry narrowed his eyes; he knew she’d try again. But Cisco had crafted these cells with Thawne cautiously for metas. Practically indestructible unless you’re a Time Wraith.

“I wouldn’t try it again if I were you.” Harry finally spoke. Dinah paused, the silence daring to be her question. “These cells are reinforced to withstand any form of meta-attacks generated within. A backup generator still supplies the power dampeners with energy to preserve the cell.” Harry looked out his cell and towards the darkness. “All we can do is wait.”

***

You took a breath, smoke and blood and electricity filled the air. Your eyes didn’t miss the rush of electricity in the distance. Red and gold, the Speedforce of the only two speedsters here. Swallowing thickly, your attention was diverted to the Waverider being chased by another. Well damn, I think someone’s having a bit too much fun. Raising an eyebrow, you watched both airborne vehicles zig-zag through the air. You hooked up your earpiece and headed for the nearest skirmish to help out. A grin plastered itself on your face when you heard Cisco on the comms arguing with Harry. I guess they’re the ones taking the Waverider for a joy ride.

You pressed the button on your communication device, “Any chance I can hop on?” You sucker punched a Nazi. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” Cisco laughed, weaving through the air as if he’s directing a Strike Fighter.

He’s totally Luke Skywalkering his way through this.

“Girl, where you been?”

“Let’s just say,” you huffed, generating electricity in your palm and slamming it into the chest of another soldier. “I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me.” In actuality, Eobard had sped you away from the Labs once Ray made a dramatic entrance to save Kara. He’d sped you to where the battle would be, at least to where the Earth-X forces would arrive from. Telling you to run and appear at an opportune moment. Meaning, go hide while the battle thickens so your disappearance doesn't bring up too many questions from your friends. “Is Iris with you?”

“Yeah, she’s in the back with Felicity, we’re still trying to maneuver in the best position possible to take down their shields.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, thinking back to her stunt with Felicity to sabotage the surgery. “So, how about that help?”

“Hmm,” Harry spoke up, pushing his glasses up. “Unless you have the capability of overloading and shutting down the entire Earth-X Waverider system without passing out, be our guest.”

“… I mean I could try.”

“No.”

You pouted, punching another soldier, this time in the nose. Someone’s particularly grumpy right now. “It’s honestly not that hard, I would just be out for a couple of days and probably on life support.” The line was quiet meaning that Harry chose to ignore your comment. Rude.

You took in a breath and reduced your being to an electrical form, traveling up some buildings to gauge the situation. Kara and Kara-X were facing off at the moment. Eobard was naturally keeping Barry busy while Oliver and Oliver-X were in an intense hand-to-hand-to-bow combat. Yeah, their fight wasn’t as impressive as the other two. You took in a breath heading back down to the fight, this time getting closer to Mick and Leo Snart, who you found to be the Earth-X resistance fighter and doppelganger to your dead ex-boyfriend.

What goes around comes around.

***

“Where were you?”

Turning back from where you sat, you sent a questioning look to Barry and pointed to yourself when no one had responded. He had specifically prompted you with the question. The look in his hazel-green eyes were distant as he leaned against the front of the Cortex desks. You recognized that look from a few years ago. The silence in the Cortex was sliced amongst the team. DeVoe was still out there, scheming. Some stopped what they were doing to gauge what would happen, others (mainly Harry) kept working away but inclined an ear in case either of you were to do something rash.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, (Y/N). You’re not that dumb.”

“Excuse me.” You narrowed your eyes at the scarlet speedster.

“Barry,” Iris whispered to him, but he shook her off as he folded his arms.

“Where were you after you left Iris and Felicity?”

Ah, of course he wouldn’t miss that. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.

“I went to go buy them some time.”

“Buy them some time or buy yourself some time? To see Eobard.”

Your heart hammered tightly in your chest, but you made no move to indicate what you had done. In a sense, you did both. You protected Iris and Felicity while keeping Eobard company.

“Why would I want to see someone who’s allied themselves to a Nazi regime on a different Earth, Barr?”

“Why wouldn’t you do anything to see the one you once loved?”

“Are you talking about me,” you tilted your head to the side, taunting him now, “or yourself?” You referenced the events that happened last year. Barry was more than aware of what you were indicating. Flashpoint. Savitar. Iris’ predicted death, HR’s sacrifice, his time remnant’s downfall. But you’ve been wanting to add kerosene to the flames. “Are you referring to your mom,” you turned your head to Iris, “or to Iris?” If looks could kill, you would have been reduced to ashes under Barry’s gaze. Cisco put down his tools and Caitlin glanced at her friends from where she sat beside Iris. Harry capped his marker but turned his eyes towards you. “Like I said, I caught some unwanted attention, and they were reluctant to release me. How is that any different from the others getting stuck in the pipeline?”

“You left Iris to defend herself.”

“Oh my god! Barry!” You rolled your eyes at his statement, deflecting your own questions. “Iris this, Iris that. Iris is a big girl with nearly perfect marksmanship as Harry. She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. I know that. She knows that. The same goes for Felicity as well. But do you know that?” Divide them, fester the idea of unreliability between those two. After all, it’s because of Barry’s decisions for Iris that everyone gets screwed over. It’s one of the reasons for the resentment and bitterness that grows within you. Only they can be happy, no one else can.

“You left Iris and Felicity while this place was crawling with Earth-Xers just to see Thawne!”

“Fucking prove it, you dickbag,” you screamed back at him, “if you’re so certain. Prove it, because contrary to your belief, I was fighting beside you and everyone else that day in the city once I managed to escape. Ask Cisco and Harry. Ask Sara. Hell, even ask Mick and Leo.”

Barry shook his head with a cruel smile, “Do you wanna know how I know?” The speedster took out his phone and started it up, showing the screen of your location. “Careful what you wish for.” Dread gripped your heart as Barry chuckled to himself. “That’s right. I chipped you, that night I pushed you against the doorframe before leaving for the warehouse fight. I chipped you. I already had Thawne chipped earlier that night. On his suit, when I landed a few hits on him. He doesn’t know or… not until recently.” Barry did a search for any pings, but there were none except for yours. “You asked me for proof, here it is.” He slid his fingers on the screen showing a timestamp and your location pinged with Eobard’s at the labs.

“This means nothing.”

“It means everything!” Barry stepped closer to you, anger in his wake. “You left us for him.”

“Yet I still fought with you guys because it was the right thing to do regardless of how I feel for him. You don’t understand nor will you want to understand. You’d rather label us as 100% on the wrong side without acknowledging that we can dwell in a gray area. The world isn’t just black and white, Barry. Or have you forgotten about your own morally gray decisions?”

Sparks crackled in the air, whether it was from you or Barry, no one could tell. Harry took a subtle step towards you from where he stood at the glass board a few feet beside you. He was the only one that can calm you down from this, maybe Iris too, but most definitely he himself. But Harry wasn’t quick enough because the Cortex monitors went haywire while the room darkened. You and Barry were nowhere in the room.

“Barry!” Iris screamed a second after he had sped you away.

***

Eobard raked a hand through his dark locks, analyzing the future article again. He fiddled with his rightful Reverse Flash emblem in his hands, his fingers tracing over the single lightning bolt. It took the genius a full day to extract the SS emblem from his suit, but with your help he was able to detonate it a safe distance away in some open fields. While the people of Central City slept and you had assured Eobard that the Labs were vacant, the speedster had rushed into his old office and compiled all the documents he needed to keep out of Barry’s hands. He’s honestly surprised Team Flash hadn’t rifled thus far into the records he kept. The only things missing were speed theories and the equation escalation to the Speed Formula. Although, he had solved that issue for Barry two years ago when he had traveled back in time for an answer on getting faster.

Still such a naïve child, not at all like the Flash from my future. Arranging some papers together on his new office desk, without meaning to Eobard had knocked over a picture frame. The breaking of glass caught his attention, craning his neck to see the fallen frame. The frame held a picture of you and him from before the Particle Accelerator exploded around Christmas. Before you had known his secret. But now the frame was adorned with a fierce crack through you. Eobard’s mouth went dry, knowing that superstitions were just superstitions, but he couldn’t exactly place the rush of fear welling in his body.

“Gideon, pull up (Y/N)’s location.” Eobard pulled his glasses off smoothly as the AI did as told. She was at the labs. “Access the live feed cameras.” Gideon pulled up holo-images 8x8 of what seemed to be a further escalating scene between you and Barry through STAR Labs. Gritting his teeth, Eobard summoned his suit and launched himself forward into it. The Negative Speedforce fueled by his anger and hate pumped dangerously in his veins.

Barry Allen will regret the day he dared to lay a hand on you.

***

“You’re a traitor!”

“Speak for yourself.” You grunted against the wall, your electric blade dissipating in your hand. It was getting harder to breathe, to keep up with his movements. With speedsters, you preferred long-range combat, but you had to make due at times. “You’re the one who betrayed everyone first for your own selfish desires. Flashpoint, the cause of so much pain and misery. In the end, there was so much collateral damage, and you were the cause of so many lives lost.”

“Flashpoint should have wiped you away. You should have been thankful. We helped you,” Barry fumed, pressing his forearm harder against your throat. “We stood by you.”

“They stood by me.” You tried channeling your electricity, even to siphon off a lick of his in order to produce a dagger, but to no avail. Only sparks flickered from the tips of your fingers, “You couldn’t stand the sight of me when you brought me in.” You had no grievances towards anyone else other than Barry. Not Iris, not Caitlin, not Joe, not Cisco. Certainly not Ralph simply because he’s new. And not towards Harry and Jesse. Iris and Caitlin were the two people who kept you the most grounded to the world for they understood the loss of a loved one and the process of moving on.

“You’re damn right I couldn’t. I was wrong to have let you stay around after Iris and Caitlin rehabilitated you.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make, now, was it?”

“You’re a monster just like Thawne. You’re not a hero.”

You simply spit blood in Barry’s face. “I’m neither thief nor hero.” You were kind of enjoying pushing his buttons, releasing all those pent-up emotions and frustration over the years. Wiping his face clean with his sleeve, the speedster sped you out of the room, throwing punches and kicks at you. He had run you through the entirety of STAR Labs. You siphoned off passing energy from computers and lightbulbs to throw at him Palpatine-style when there was distance between you two, but there was only so much you could do in your current condition. You were getting tired; you couldn’t keep up. Every burst of electricity that burned him had drained you. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You healed fast, but he healed much faster.

“Barry, stop! You’re going to kill her.” Iris shouted with a gun in her hand, the others piling into the room. Cisco threw a wave blast at Barry and Frost aimed a couple of icicles his way, but the speedster had dodged them. The scarlet speedster tossed you to the ground like a bag of peanuts before turning to the others. You skidded to the side, breathing in deeply then coughed up some blood into your fist. Blood continued to trickle from the side of your face and sweat glistened on your skin. You could feel your cheek swell as well as an ache form in your chest, maybe a few cracked ribs. Could potentially puncture your lungs if this didn’t end soon.

“And why shouldn’t I? For all we know, she could be spying on us for Thawne.”

“Barry killing her won’t solve anything,” Harry shot at him with his pulse rifle to create some distance between you two before training it on you. “It’ll just make things worse.” You met his eyes, and you could see the disappointment in them. A tinge of guilt hit you, but you pushed past it as you stood on unsteady feet. Your body felt like it was made of lead, but you continued on. If this is how things are to be, then so be it.. You leaned against the wall, cradling your damaged ribcage, as Harry continued. “Regardless of her actions, she did keep Iris and Felicity safe in her own way, she still stood by us.” You were finding it extremely hard to breathe, to stay conscious. Your breathing slowed, the noise in the room between Team Flash was reduced to murmuring to your ears. Did I burst an eardrum too?

“Are you kidding me, Wells? How can you say that when-”

You blinked before collapsing onto the ground, a streak of red had filled your vision. Eobard pinned Barry to the wall, his hand squeezing at his throat while red hot anger filled his vision. “Good to see you again so soon, Flash,” the yellow speedster drawled with a rough grin in his distorted voice. “It seems like you overstepped your boundaries.” Eobard kicked Barry in the ribs and landed a few speed punches, the scarlet speedster already exhausted from his fight with you. “Isn’t this position nostalgic?” Barry was clawing at Eobard’s firm grip, suspending the young hero in the air against the wall as he had done years ago.

“I- had a feeling... you’d show up, Thawne,”

Licking your bloodied lips, you groaned as you leaned up with hoarseness in your voice, “Eo, don’t.” The man in yellow stopped, slowly turning his quaking gaze towards you. You held his gaze for as long as you could get the message through to him. “Enough.” Eobard retracted a fist that was to make contact on Barry’s face, but not before squeezing the scarlet speedsters throat tightly and throwing him towards the upper part of the speed lab. Eobard took off his cowl and generated his speed to be by your side, eyeing every cut and bruise on your broken skin. Your eyes drooped shut when he brushed the back of his gloved hand against your unwounded cheek. His eyes softened, but his insides clenched. Iris and Caitlin had run to where Barry laid while Harry and Cisco monitored Eobard with caution as he gently scooped you in his strong arms.

Standing up with your limp form, the speedster disregarded Cisco, yet glared coldly at his supposed doppelganger. The future genius then turned to them and spoke, “My love for her is what stopped me this time. Next time,” his eyes landed on Barry, “you won’t be so lucky. Lay a hand on her again and I won’t hesitate to end your miserable life, Flash.” His eyes flashed red as they met Barry’s for the last time before taking his leave in a wake of red electricity.

***

Eobard stopped his vibrational intimidation once he made it to your temporary home, Gideon had already prepared the necessary diagnostic tests that would need to be conducted to assess your health. Laying you on the gurney gently, he kissed your forehead before proceeding. The speedster had cleaned you up, replacing your burnt clothes and scrubbing the dried remnants of blood on your skin. His heart shattered. His blood turned to ice. Eobard’s baby blues scanned every part of your marred skin. Lines that tallied up right after another, scars that were too stubborn to heal correctly as if trying to serve as a reminder. Eobard’s mouth had dried as his thumb made featherlight touches before injecting the needle into the correct vein. The speedster opened his mouth and closed it, but he could not register any other emotion other than anger and guilt. His thoughts funneled fluidly, emphasizing that one certain cause that led to this escalation. His death had been the cost of your mental and physical state.

Never again. The speedster peppered kisses along your arms as all the implied images ran through his mind. A tear slipped out. It fell from his face onto the scarred tissue. My love. He needed to get back to work. With classical music dancing in the background, Eobard conducted a blood transfusion in order to replace the blood you had lost as well as administering IV fluids. He had to steal the materials from a hospital nearby in Keystone. They won’t be missing it.

“According to my current readings, copious amounts of stress have been exuded onto her heart allowing her to retain a constant distressed state.” Gideon rattled on as Eobard sat next to you with a sleeve rolled up. He glanced over at you as the AI continued. “The X-ray scans have also been completed. She’s suffering trauma in her ribcage, a few cracked ribs, however none are broken. CT results also conclude a mild concussion.”

She’s lucky her lungs hadn’t been punctured. His hate for Barry Allen grew with every second that you laid unconscious.

“How long until a full recovery?”

“Physically it could take up to 3-6 weeks regarding her ribs. The mild concussion will take approximately almost a week and a half. Her heart might take longer. Therefore, she must avoid extraneous activity.”

“Such as using her powers and so on.”

“Yes. Shall I assist you with anything else today, Professor Thawne?”

Eobard ran his fingers over his lips before taking his glasses off and throwing them onto the side of a nearby table. “Keep tabs on Barry Allen’s movements, I want to be alerted if he comes near Keystone or has any intention of it.” The AI nodded before shuttering away into the plinth. Yes, the speedster had been smart to chip him, something Eobard had easily gotten rid of. But to chip you as well, Thawne cursed himself for not seeing it coming. Too preoccupied with the timeline and it’s malleability. “Hopefully DeVoe will keep him away long enough.”

***

Your eyelids felt like they had been cemented shut, the stinging smell of antiseptic slapped you right in the face. Am I dead or in a hospital? A groan left your lips, your throat dry as a desert and craving any drips of water. I hope I’m not in a hospital, I hate those places. The nice thing was that a light wasn’t blinding you, at the very least not piercing through the darkness supplied by your shut eyelids. It was oddly soothing. Your mind finally processed the dull ache residing in your bones, the softness beneath you and the slight chill in the air. Maybe I am dead. Taking one slow breath in, your blood vessels throbbed louder with each fluid pumped through and the humming of machines finally registered to your ears. You didn’t want to open your eyes; you were content with just laying here.

“…” You frowned, the sound of mumbling coming to you. Who was that? “Gi… ru-… I-.” Death, perhaps? You twitched your fingers, a numb sensation set in both your arms. If I’m dead, how can I still feel? It took a moment for your brain to catch you up on how you’d been reduced to such a state. Barry… killed me? No, that’s- Eo was… You shakily formed a fist only to feel something cool against your skin. Felt like another hand. Not bony. Maybe Death gave the appearance of a human for us to pass.

“Mm,” you tried clearing your throat, but it hurt each time, inducing a coughing fit. Blinking wearily, you looked around, your vision blurry until it settled on the being the hand had belonged to. “Mm, I…”

“Shh,” the deep voice cooed. You could hear much more clearly now but couldn’t make out the image of the being. “I have some water for you,” you felt a straw tap your lips. “Drink up.”

Why is Death being so kind to me? I thought Death was swift. You drank a sip at a time before pulling back and shutting your eyes once more. The somatosensory neurons on your arms brushed against some coarse material. A blanket? That same cool touch caressed your cheek. You blinked your eyes open a few times, dizziness ensnaring your mind, but your eyes met icy blue ones. “Eo?”

“I’m here,” he whispered in a gentle tone, standing up from where he sat next to you.

“I’m not dead.”

“No, you’re very much alive”

“Barry, he…”

“I’ve dealt with him. He won’t ever hurt you again.” You watched as he kissed your bandaged hands, each finger receiving a kiss. Cracking your neck, your realized he had changed you into fresh clothes. The scent of faint lavender hung onto the fabric.

“How long was I out?”

“Two weeks.”

It hurt your head when your eyes bugged out. You patted your temples lightly. “Two weeks? What- I-I need to get back. They were going to confront DeVoe. Harry and-”

“No,” Eobard pressed his palm against your shoulder when you tried to sit up abruptly, “You need to rest. Screw Team Flash. For once, just let them be so you can recover.” The speedster did not ask for what had happened to you, knowing the implications in his mind were too strong to be false. Rather, he’d make sure it would not occur a second time

“It’s not that simple, Eo.”

“It really is,” the yellow speedster sighed to himself, rubbing his face. You gestured to the water, and he handed the cup to you. “You’re in no condition to go back there, not after what happened. Your powers and your fight did a number on you. I-…. Your heart stopped a couple of times.” You almost choked on your sip. “I had to jumpstart your heart and keep it going.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For worrying you.” For being a liability that Barry can use.

“Don’t. This,” he gestured with his hands between you and him, “is not something to apologize for. Ever. If anything, it was smart of him to use you for bait as I had used Iris and Eddie.” You pressed your lips into a thin line as your mind started to wander.

“So, we wait?”

Eobard nodded as you ran a hand through you knotted hair. Need to brush that out asap. “We wait until it’s time to strike.”

“Until it’s time for you to strike. I’m remaining neutral in whatever it is between you and Barry in the future. Even if he might not see it that way.” Tipping the scales, balancing good and evil natures in the forces of the world. That’s what He told me my role in the multiverse is along with...

“I know, my love.” I don’t know how to break this to her. “But until then, rest.” If I ask her to come with me, would what I orchestrate then work?

“Eobard.”

“Hm?” Eobard knew he needed to go back to sort a few things out. Chances of getting caught were roughly 30-70, but not zero.

You shifted over to make room for him, patted the spot next to you. “Stay.”

Or would she become collateral damage?

“Always.” The speedster leaned down to kiss your lips before moving in beside you. You laid your head on his chest, minding the slight tremors of pain. Eobard kissed the top of your head and you shut your eyes. You’d go to the ends of the multiverse for him, but you’d also protect your friends. Being at odds with Barry wouldn’t stop you. He just needed to learn to live with your choices as everyone else has had to live with his.

Eobard’s mind ran through every scenario, deciding it’s best to tell you what he intends to do. He’d rather you decide for yourself what to do. The negative speedster respected the position you held onto. Neutrality wasn’t always an easy feat, but he admired your devotion towards him and the ones you love. Eobard was just selfish enough to only want and care for you. He didn’t need anyone else. He certainly didn’t need camaraderie. Tomorrow, he’d tell you. Tomorrow, he’d make sure to take the first step towards ensuring the future.

Betrayal is a fickle thing, Barry Allen. A lesson you will learn again.

109 notes · View notes

laurensprentiss · 3 years

Text

Jouska [Hotch x Reader]

Chapter 13:

Gif credit: @hqtchner

A/N: I toyed with several ideas for this one, but I wanted the reader to be strong in her own right which is why this takes the direction it does.

Warnings: Strong depictions of violence, assault, blood, vomiting. Graphic injury, choking, gun violence.

———

“What you remember saves you.” - W.S Merwin

———

“You don’t like what I’ve done with the place?”

“Jordan.” You breathe. “What did you do?”

His jaw sets. His expression goes from glee to fury and he’s next to you in a flash, nose to nose, dragging your head back by the hair on the nape of your neck. A wince escapes your mouth when the pulling sends a sting up your scalp.

“What do you mean, what did I do? Isn’t it obvious?” He sneers, punctuating his words with another pull of your hair.

You cry out in pain, your neck straining. The rabid look in his eyes and his bared teeth send shivers down your spine.

He continues, “I made sure you were going to stay all...mine.” He whispers, releasing his grip, smoothing the top of your head. “Isn’t it sweet? I did it all so I could have you all to myself… and instead of thanking me, you’re acting like you’re above me. Like you always do. Maybe I need to teach you how to be grateful-”

“I’ll be grateful.” You offer in a quick breath. “I mean- I am. I am grateful. I was just so…” You swallow thickly, tearing your eyes away from the pictures, “Surprised that you did all this. For me.” You fight the tears pricking your eyes.

“You mean that?”

You swallow the bile rising in your throat. “Yes. I do.”

“Good. Y’know all I ever wanted was us to be together? When you broke up with me, I admit, I was angry. I thought you were fucking somebody else.” He paces the length of the room and that’s when your gaze falls to the gun he has tucked into the waistband of his jeans. “But I realised you couldn’t possibly.”

You brace yourself when his gaze falls to his handiwork on the walls.

“But then…” He inhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I saw you with him.” His volume rises steadily. “I send you gifts, I send you letters, I give you clues, I even draw blood for you and you repay me by parading around another man?!”

You cry out when he delivers a blow to the left side of your face, a crack resounding in the room. Your skin blisters red hot where he strikes you, you swear he’s torn open some skin on your cheek. It sends your head spinning, you figure you’re already nursing a concussion, this just makes it worse.

“That’s not-”

“Don’t you interrupt me.” He spits, his face close enough for you to smell the bourbon on his breath. “You had him come to my house today, try to scare me? He thinks he’s a big powerful man, FBI… that badge doesn’t mean shit, he doesn’t know who I am.”

“Jordan-”

“What was it about him anyway? You could’ve had me, you know, we could’ve been a dynasty.” He’s grandstanding. Always did have a problem with his fragile ego. He turns his back to you, scanning the pictures on the wall. “He’ll get what’s coming to him. I’m having it taken care of.” He mutters.

Your blood runs cold. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, sweetheart. You’re not stupid, you couldn’t possible have thought that I’d let him live?”

Your heart skips. The ‘other guy’ that was to be taken care of - Hotch.

“Jordan, no. It wasn’t like that, I swear.” He turns slowly, rage behind his eyes that’s only thinly veiled by a psychotic smile. “There’s nothing between us! Please don’t do this. I’m begging you, don’t do this.” You plead.

“Why do you care?”

“-What?”

“Why… do you… care?” His eyes are fanatical, nostrils flared. “If nothing happened between you, why do you care what happens to him?”

You know why now.

“Because I don’t want anyone to die! Him, Emily, anybody! I don’t want anyone to get hurt.” You stutter through your sobs. “Please don’t do this.”

“You don’t want him to die? How stupid do you think I am?” He grabs the back of your head and directs you to a picture of you and Hotch on the gazebo - the day you’d met. “You look at him like that because he’s a friend?” He spits.

He’s right, though - that’s the thing.

You don’t know how you didn’t realise sooner, how you didn’t see it sooner. Maybe it’s because you couldn’t see your own face when you were around him, but the way you look at him, your smile.

You don’t think you’ve looked at anybody like that before.

Tears roll down your cheeks now, eyes welling over.

He smooths over your hair, straightening out his own shirt. “I will make it quick though. Humane. I owe him that much.”

“What?”

“I owe him. How do you think you got here?” When you can’t formulate the words he continues, “Hm, let me spell it out for you.” He continues his rapid pacing, fingers compulsively scratching his neck. “We break up, you betray me, so I leave the country. I come back, try to get you back, you betray me, again. FBI man comes into the picture, his girlfriend feels neglected, said girlfriend then conveniently runs into me at a bar after an argument, confides in me and starts sleeping with me. She’s a real peach, though. Total Type-A, wouldn’t let me fuck her raw.” He adds, rolling his eyes.

You feel nauseous.

You wonder if Hotch knows.

He goes on, “I fuck her, she tells me everything I want to know. Including the fact that she thought he was cheating on her.” He laughs bitterly. “I thought we might have had something when you called me a few months ago, remember that? That was a good time.” Your stomach turns when you think back to the worst mistake you’d ever made. “But then you stopped taking my calls, I put two together from there, figured you were fucking him. I knew then that he had to die.” He rolls his eyes.

His smile reveals a row of eerily straight teeth but there’s nothing behind his eyes except a sick kind of glee.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear to you, he never touched me.” You plead with him, desperately. You reckon with the fact that if you couldn’t regain control of this situation, Hotch would die. “Look, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“I swear. Anything. Just call it off, please.” He considers your statement for a moment, kneeling down between your knees again. He makes a point to flash you his gun, the silver glinting, before reaching for a switchblade that’s tucked into his back pocket. You flinch when he brings it purposely closer to you but he cuts you free.

“I’m going to test you. Stay here with me. You run, I kill him.” He lays the knife flat against your bruised cheek, “Then I kill you.” He whispers. You wince when the sharp edge breaks a thin layer of skin and you feel a warm trail of blood on your cheek.

You nod desperately, agreeing. “I swear. I’ll do anything, just call it off.”

Just as he finishes cutting you free, his phone vibrates against the wooden table under the window. He excuses himself, face lighting up for a moment. You try your best to hear, but the voice on the other end is indistinguishable.

Jordan’s responses are short.

“Fitz.”

“Hello?” He presses the phone closer to his ear. “Lawrence? It’s done?” He smiles at the response from the other side.

“30 minutes.” He hangs up and rattles off a quick text message before setting the phone down again.

He sighs, concealing his unhinged glee when he turns to look at you. “Bad news babe.” He says tutting, knowingly with a disturbing smile. “I know I said I’d call it off but,” he waves the phone in the air, “it’s already done. Your friend, Aaron?”

Oh please, no. Don’t say it.

“He’s dead.”

———

Once the first bang reverberates in the nurses’ station, time seems to move in slow motion. McCall yells for everybody to get down, cocking his gun. Panic erupts for a moment before everybody falls to the ground, the first shot already fired.

Where it comes from, who fires first, it isn’t clear, the whole thing in reality is over in a matter of seconds but time still seems to stop.

Now, McCall kneels over a dead body, hyper-aware of eyes on him, “He’s gone.” He whispers.

A hand grips his shoulder from behind as he stares down at the corpse in front of him laying in a pool of blood, three bullet holes in the chest.

His ears still ring.

“Hey. Emily’s fine. I had two cops posted outside her door.” He turns to find Hotch, who can’t tear his eyes away from Officer Lawrence’s dead body in front of them.

They’re about to let medical personnel clear out the area and wheel him away in a body bag when Hotch spots something in Lawrence’s scrub pockets.

“Wait! Hold it a sec?” He asks, retrieving a piece of paper and cellphone from Lawrence. They make their way back to Emily’s hospital room in unison.

McCall looks at him, puzzled. “You okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“That was the first person you ever shot, right? He’s dead. You’re allowed to not be okay.”

“I’m fine - I need to focus. I need to get her back.” He’d be lying if he said his hands weren’t trembling but he has more pressing matters on his hand. The need to get you back safe and sound outweighs any personal conflict for him. He unfolds the piece of paper, muttering aloud a series of numbers. “It’s a phone number. What’d you wanna bet it’s Jordan?” He does a double take when he sees his own name written in capital letters on the other side of the paper, passing it to McCall.

“Some vendetta, hm? He was sent to kill you.” McCall takes the phone from Hotch and starts to dial when Hotch places a stalling arm on his.

“Wait.”

He dials Garcia’s number deftly, asks her to search for a location on the number before they call it, but to his disappointment, it’s a prepaid. He then has Garcia set up a track and trace before he lets McCall dial the number.

“Ready, Garcia?”

The phone rings three times before it’s answered, Jordan’s voice curt and straight to the point, assuming it’s Lawrence. Hotch can hear Garcia’s typing and beeping but when McCall doesn’t say anything, Jordan takes matters into his own hands.

“It’s done?” Jordan asks outright.

“Yes.” McCall replies with little inflection, keeping his voice even so as to not arouse suspicion. Jordan gives McCall a time - 30 minutes, before snapping the phone shut.

McCall tries the number again, but it’s dead. Destroyed.

“Garcia, anything?” Hotch asks desperately.

“No, sir, it was barely long enough to triangulate the call, I’m sorry.”

“Keep searching, Garcia, we need this address. Look for something in isolation, out of the way. It’s gotta mean something to him.”

“Yes, sir. Typing as we speak.”

Hotch rubs an exasperated hand over his beard, “Y’know the media can’t get wind of this, if he has access to a TV or radio and sees I’m alive? He’ll kill her.” He shudders as the words leave his mouth, making way for the possibility that he does not want to reckon with.

You might already be dead.

He dials quickly “Chief Barnes? I need a favour.”

———

He’s been pacing the length of Emily’s hospital room for the past twenty minutes, waiting for Chief Barnes to call in every favour he can to keep the media at bay so they can keep up the charade. He increases the TV volume opposite Emily’s bed when he sees a news report flash across the scene.

“Good evening, everybody. We come to you live tonight with some breaking news.”

He braces himself. Did Barnes manage to cover the hit on him?

“The daughters of two US Ambassadors have reportedly been involved in what appears to be a multi-car collision in the Virginia countryside, earlier tonight.”

Two pictures appear side by side of you and Emily.

“The daughter of Ambassador Prentiss was rushed to hospital earlier tonight and remains in critical condition at Bridgepoint Hospital after sustaining multiple injuries. The daughter of the US Ambassador to France however, is reported to be missing. The Ambassador himself is reportedly unaware of his daughter’s condition, presumed to be en-route to Paris tonight. Three people were pronounced dead at the scene, including Metro PD officers Evan Matthews and Howard Denton.”

He waits anxiously for any mention of his own name or Jordan, Lawrence, but the anchor passes over to the correspondent.

He sighs in relief, just as his phone rings.

“Garcia?”

“I think I finally have a location on Fitzgerald. I checked for any and all properties under Senator Fitzgerald’s name, his second and third wives, his spawn’s name, even the Fitzgerald Family Trust. Nada.” She pauses for breath. “So. I dug down deeper. I searched instead for any properties under Sloan Marie Fitzgerald - still nothing. But then I chanced a search under her maiden name, Hamilton, and wouldn’t you know - the Hamilton family had a cabin between Rock Creek Park and Montgomery County. The late Mrs. Fitzgerald would take him to said cabin most summers before she died.”

“Alright, good work. Send us-”

“I'm not even going to let you finish that sentence, because it’s quite frankly insulting. Coordinates are on their way to you now, Sirs.”

Hotch huffs a laugh, it’s the most he can muster right now. He knows he owes Garcia a massive bouquet of flowers after all this is over.

He grabs McCall by his jacket. “Suit up. We’ve got an address.”

———

‘He’s dead.’

The onset of shock and unmistakable rise of nausea had caused you to retch violently and empty the contents of your stomach into the nearest toilet.

Your legs had given out then, and you’re now planted on a dusty armchair, finding yourself staring into nothingness, your body still stinging with the shock and injuries you’d sustained.

It’s all you’ve done for the past fourty something minutes. The blood stays rushing in your ears, and the pounding in your head is unrelenting. You haven’t said a word since, your body’s energy drained. You’re almost catatonic, unable to even shed a few tears for Hotch’s death.

He’s dead. He’s dead because of you.

You think back to the first time you met, he’d been so bright eyed and optimistic. Disarming. You think about the way he’d told you about his hopes and dreams, his plans for the future as a profiler. He’d had so much to live for. All of that had been ripped away from him because he’d gotten involved in your case. It was your fault he was dead.

And you didn’t know how you were going to make it out of this. Your limbs feel like concrete - fatigue, shock and grief make it hard to formulate any kind of rational thought. Jordan’s hand comes to smooth the top of your head once again, but the gesture is far from comforting or loving.

“It’s okay. You’ll see in time, this was for the best. This way, there aren’t any distractions.” He whispers. He’s been pacing the length of the cabin, repeatedly checking his second burner as though he’s awaiting some news.

He resumes his pacing when you finally break your silence, your voice hoarse.

“You killed a man.” You whisper.

“What’s that?”

“You killed a man.” You sob quietly. “You had someone killed, that doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“Oh I did more than just have your little lover killed. I made sure your father and that Prentiss bitch were taken care of too.”

Your vision tunnels, a high-pitched whine penetrating your skull. You feel like the ground has just been ripped from under you, like you’re falling. You can feel your heart shatter, the splintering fragments of your life piercing your skin.

“My father? He’s not here. He’s-”

He glances at his watch. “-On his way to Paris?” You feel the bile rising again. “I know. Like I said, I’m having it all taken care of. They’re all dead, babe - or will be, soon.” He brings a hand to your face, brushing his thumb over your cut. “Don’t you see? I did it so I could have you all to myself.”

The glee in his voice provokes something in you, a rage you’ve never felt before. You figure you have nothing else to lose, everything and everyone you ever loved is dead, you’d either fight and die quicker, or you’d stay and die slowly.

In a move that stuns even you, you spit on Jordan’s face and bring your hand up to strike him notwithstanding the piercing pain in your ribs. The flat of your palm makes sharp contact with his bearded cheek. The sound echoes in the room, and your own hand stings from the force, but a minute satisfaction settles into your bones.

He takes a minute to steady himself, but when he turns to look at you, his eyes flash with something you’ve never seen in a person before. In one fell swoop, he drags you to stand by your hair, pushing you into a glass frame against the wall.

The glass shatters, puncturing the skin on your cheek and forearm where you bear the brunt of the impact. He lands two blows to your stomach, causing you to keel over, winding you. The pain blooms to your already bruised ribs, your breaths ragged. He grabs you then by the throat, pinning you against the wall, your breaths coming short and constricted.

He shakes you against the wall, his hand tight around your throat, cutting off your air. “You ever pull something like that again, I’ll kill you in ways you couldn’t possibly imagine.” He growls in a low voice. “Do you understand me?” You can feel the blood pumping in your face, your eyes starting to bulge.

You drive your knee into his crotch with all the force you can muster, exactly like Hotch had taught you. You then go for his shin that only gives you mere seconds to grab your breath when he lets you go in pain.

You fall with him, knees giving out when you gasp for breath, and when you see him charging towards you again, you reach to your right for a dusty glass vase that sits on a single table. You manage to get yourself back on your feet right as he’s about to make contact with you again, the butt of the vase smashing into his skull.

He cries out in pain as he falls to the ground again on all fours, blood streaming down his face. A gash on his forehead seeps blood and several pieces of glass are embedded in his face.

You’re still trying to catch your own breath when you spot the silver glint of his 9mm catch the light in his back pocket.

This is your chance.

You half-crawl, half-run to him, landing a violent kick to his stomach to strike him down. You grab the gun from his back pocket, stumbling a little from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, your hands trembling. You check the magazine and load it as fast as your hands will allow.

You grip the Beretta just as Hotch had taught you, wrapping your dominant hand around the magazine, your index finger parallel to the chamber. Your other hand wraps around your dominant, as you stand over him.

“Get up.” You snarl. “Get up, NOW!” You order him through your coughs.

He turns around slowly, slipping twice on his way up, groaning with the exertion. His face mirrors your own, a gash on his lip and forehead, blood streaming down his cheek.

He chuckles darkly, revealing a set of shark-like teeth that are covered in his blood. “Oh… you think you’re hot shit. You even know how to use that thing? Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

Your body aches feverishly and you swear you could pass out at any minute, vision blurry. You can feel your grip loosening and you’re trying to centre yourself when Jordan takes advantage of your momentary slip.

He lunges for you in a flash, knife in hand.

———

“We’re about a mile out, I want sirens and lights off. He can’t know we’re coming.” Hotch says into his radio. He’s watching the road ahead as they get deeper into the woods, the off-road terrain making it hard to keep control of the SUV.

They’re backed up at rear by three MPD police cars, Chief Fuller’s attempt at making nice with Hotch after their earlier altercation.

He swallows thickly, his mouth like cotton. He knows he can’t afford one wrong move, not here. Not with you. He needs to get you back. He made a promise to Emily.

He’ll die trying.

He keeps a firm grip on your chain, rubbing it one last time for steady luck before tucking it into his shirt pocket.

A clearing of trees reveals another path to them. It leads off into the distance, to a small wooden cabin around 80 feet away. It’s illuminated by amber light emanating from a single window.

“Alright, guys. Nice and slow, headlights off, we’re gonna dismount now. Everybody out.” He whispers into the comms once they clear another 50 feet.

Leaves rustle underneath their feet as they stealthily approach the cabin, guns cocked. Hotch has three cops flanking him and McCall brings up the rear, covering the back exit.

They’re almost at the entrance when a loud bang resounds from inside, and Hotch short circuits, his knuckles white around his glock.

Inside the cabin, you send Jordan flying with a shot to his shoulder, the smell of gun smoke burning your nostrils. Your hands tremble violently, your mind temporarily blanking - you feel like you’re swimming. Your ears ring from the noise, a high-pitched whine piercing your brain.

There’s another bang almost immediately after Jordan stumbles backwards but you’re sure you only fired one shot.

Jordan’s body in front of you is your only focal point, so much so that it’s only when you see McCall and two cops approach him writhing on the floor that you come back into your body.

You realise the second bang had been them kicking down the front door. Your hands on the Beretta loosen just slightly and you let out a deep exhale. The voices in the room are still swimming as your brain slowly catches up.

“Grab her.” McCall’s voice calls out. He shouts into the comms that he needs medics, and suddenly there’s a distinct feeling of a hand on your wrist and a body next to you. You reassure yourself that Jordan is on the ground so you let your hands fall limp, dropping the gun and it falls to the ground with a sharp clack. Your eyes are still trained on McCall pressing on Jordan’s wound.

“Hey, hey, hey. Look at me.” The voice cuts through your still-ringing ears.

You know that voice.

You’d know that voice anywhere.

Your heart thunders, and your lips start to tremble as you try to reconcile everything you thought was reality with what’s really in front of you.

You turn slowly to find an achingly familiar pair of warm hazel eyes.

He’s alive.

“Aaron?” You sob. You reach out for him but he catches you before you can stumble, his arms steady around your waist. He whispers into your hair, bringing a protective hand up to cradle your head as you sob into his chest.

“It’s okay. I got you. I told you I’d come for you.”

His voice is the last thing you hear before you black out, your body finally offering you some well-earned reprieve.

———

Tags: @oreogutz @andromedasstarship @galacticnerd-78 @izzyl13 @bananabucky @crying-river @purpledragonturtles @gabbysblogthingy @archiveofadragon @yoshigguk @acidicbloody @jeor @ivebeenthinkingboutu @bauslut @averyhotchner @vashanatasha @hotchwhore15 @pjmjams @slxtherinchxser

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Anniversary (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 1,5 k

Summary: Claire and Ethan celebrate their anniversary.

Warnings: Alcohol, tiny allusion to the adult situations, the rest is so fluffy I’m gonna die.

A/N: You may ask yourself “Does Perrie have any self control when it comes to fics?”. And the answer is ‘no’. Always a ‘no’.

It was a rare sight, two doctors walking home from work at noon. Their hands were full. Literally. After leaving the hospital, they stopped by the store to get everything they’d need for the next two days and they got a little too excited on their shopping spree. Two bags of food, swinging slightly from Ethan’s right hand, and a bottle of expensive wine, held tightly in Claire’s left. Fingers of their unoccupied hands were tangled loosely, and they walked closely together, not wanting to take up too much space on the sidewalk.

“How did Naveen even pull this off?” she asked, turning her head towards him slightly.

“I think we have your friends to thank. They volunteered to take our patients, not even Bloom could argue with that.”

“They’re your friends too, you know?” Claire teased, pressing a kiss to his arm. The gesture made him smile thoughtfully.

“I… suppose can agree with that.”

The apartment was bright when they walked in, curtains pushed back to let in the sunlight. Claire left the wine on the counter, stretching her arms above her head with a broken sigh. Meanwhile Ethan, even though he still held two heavy bags, watched her with wonder. She fit right into the picture of his home, like she’s always been there. He wanted her to be there – all the time.

He set the bags down in the kitchen, then turned towards the cabinet to grab two glasses. The burgundy liquid set a shadow, tinting the white marble red. Ethan passed his girlfriend a glass, smirking at her surprised expression.

“It’s noon.” Claire argued, eyeing him suspiciously as she accepted the drink.

“It’s happy hour somewhere.” He shot back, taking a slow step towards her. “And besides, it’s our anniversary – we have to start celebrating sometime.”

They clinked their glasses, taking a sip. Claire eyed him, her finger tracing the rim of her glass, which she set down on the table, humming under her breath. Climbing onto the tips of her toes, she pressed her palms to his cheeks and kissed him gingerly.

“Happy anniversary.” She whispered against his lips, giving him a vivid smile. Ethan couldn’t fight a smile of his own if he wanted to – and he didn’t, because he was happy like he’s never been before.

Brushing his thumbs up and down the column of her neck, he whispered right back. “Happy anniversary.”

Slowly, the day progressed. Two people moved around the apartment together with the comfort of a pair that’s been doing this for years. When the time came for them to begin cooking dinner, Ethan immediately sat her down on the counter, having assumed that she’d want to watch.

She didn’t.

Almost immediately, she jumped onto the floor, scratching his forearm with her nails as she declared that she wanted to help. They divided tasks and got to work, sipping on their wine. Claire got through her tasks without a hitch, wandering over to Ethan to look into the pot. The strong aroma of spices wafted over them, filling the room with warmth and comfort.

She stood on the tips of her toes and brushed her lips against the shell of his ear. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

Wordlessly, Ethan watched her walk away from his side, a hint of a smile present in his eyes. Not for the first time, he realized that not having her in his life wasn’t an option anymore. He simply had to have her by his side, nothing less would do.

The sun illuminated her, bringing out the freckles on her face. Amplifying the highs and lows of her strands of hair that brushed the skin of her neck with every move she made. She was glowing – his very own ray of light.

As soon as their dinner was on its way to be done and could be left unsupervised for a moment, he joined her by the sink. His arms wrapped around her, their bodies fitting like two puzzle pieces. The feeling of familiarity came back with a breathtaking force, squeezing his heart.

In that moment, he felt invincible. In that moment, he felt like everything was possible. Because she made him see that everything was possible.

In that moment, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore.

“I love you.” he muttered into her ear, barely above a whisper – the moment too fragile to break with anything louder than that. Claire didn’t freeze in his arms, just slowly grabbed the towel to dry her hands, then turned around in his arms so she could face him.

Her eyes were shining with emotions so powerful that he felt as though she put all this force into his heart and made it beat again, faster than before. Ethan smiled – a blinding and beautiful smile that he kept hidden from all but her. He leaned down, pressing their foreheads together so he could remain in their little personal bubble, his eyes never losing hers.

“I love you.” he repeated a bit louder, voice full of certainty and faith. His hand cupped her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone so softly, it seemed as though he was scared she’d break. But she wouldn’t, he knew she wouldn’t.

“Ethan…” she whispered as her hands traveled up his back and onto his shoulder blades, her words shaky but filled to the brim with affection. It felt right, like they were finally in the right place, at the right time. Everything coming together to form a perfect picture. Her green eyes stared into his blue ones, searching for any sign of fear. She found nothing but love.

“I love you.” once more, he said it, his lips brushing against hers as he did. Now that he started saying it, he couldn’t stop. He would never stop – as long as she wanted him around, he’d always tell her just that.

“I love you too.” Claire mused, tilting her head upwards, their lips meeting in a breathtaking kiss. Their bodies were already close, so much so that they didn’t think they could get any closer. Still, his arms, looped around her waist, tightened their hold, hauling her onto him with enthusiasm she’s seen in him only a handful of times before. With a giggle, she threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled her nose against his.

“Again.” he bit her lip playfully, voice deep and velvety.

“I love you.”

“Again.”

“I. Love. You.” she punctuated every muse of a word with a kiss, leaning back against the counter and pulling him onto her.

Ethan’s hands grabbed her hips, using them as leverage to hoist her up onto the counter. Claire shrieked in surprise, laughing at his carefree behavior. Standing between her legs, he kissed her again, taking a deep breath of relief. There was nothing that could potentially stop him from losing himself in her.

Except for the insisting sound of the pot that demanded their attention.

With a disappointed sigh, he let her go, rushing to check on their food. She observed him, amused, but didn’t dare to move a muscle. Seconds later, he returned to her arms, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Not the best time?”

“I’m afraid so. But think about it this way.” she giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “We have two days before we have to go back to work. And I already told everyone to not contact us until then.”

“They’ll all think we didn’t leave the bed for two days.” Ethan argued halfheartedly, his lips now pressing soft kisses to the juncture between her neck and shoulder. A shiver ran down her spine at the sensation.

“Will they be wrong?”

“Absolutely not.”

It was far later in the afternoon when they finished dinner and retired to the couch for some much-needed rest. For the past hour or so, the screen of the TV was occupied by some show neither knew the title of. Neither could also say what the show was about, as they very much preferred talking to each other and finishing the bottle of wine they bought.

Claire stood up and headed towards the kitchen to grab a second one from his liquor cabinet, just lightly tipsy. She returned not long after, placing both the wine and the bottle opener on the table, then turned towards her boyfriend with a smirk full of mischief.

She extended her hand wordlessly, wiggling her fingers. He eyed her palm, then her, suspicious of her sudden idea, but found nothing that stopped him from joining her in the middle of his living room.

His own movements were slightly off balanced as he himself was intoxicated, but nevertheless, his arms embraced her and pulled her closer, holding her gently as they began to sway. Claire pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“There’s no music.” He pointed out, looking down at her with a crooked grin. The light of the late afternoon enhanced the features of her face, giving her green eyes a golden hue. She hugged him tighter.

“I don’t need music.” Claire muttered, kissing his jaw and snaking her hand up towards the back of his neck.

“Then it’s perfect.” Nodding, he let her guide his head a bit lower so that their foreheads would touch. With a smile, he added. “Because I don’t need it either.”

Notes

Once again, thank you so much for being here, every single one of you. It’s a privilege to be able to create for you, I can’t stress this enough <3

Time to go back to my corner and cry some more. Or write smut, who knows. Well, I do, but that’s beside the point.

Tagging separately

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices #ethan x mc

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thedisguisedaltruism · 3 years

Text

fond stares, vast place, loud heartbeats

genre: fluff, best friends to lovers, concert au

pairing: wonwoo/gn reader

summary: wonwoo hates the crowds, but he has to save up all his energy since you’re taking him as your concert buddy for taylor swift’s 1989 tour. little did he know, he will soon realize that he was actually in love with you, thanks to taylor and her wicked songwriting.

word count: 2,192

a/n: dumping this shit because too much feels for you are in love live :((

2015

“Wons, turn it up, turn it up!”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but snort from your excitement to see your longtime idol live. You worked hard to save enough so you could see Taylor Swift since then, and now you’re about to witness your turning point in life.

...together with your best friend, not to mention how he loathes crowds.

I Know Places is currently playing on the car stereo and you're warming up as you hit the high note in the chorus, dramatically pressing your chest with eyes shut. Wonwoo takes his final turn as you finally arrive at the stadium.

"Missed the note there, my friend." He teases. You could care less from his assed remarks because your mind's been in euphoria since you woke up from a power nap a few hours ago.

Outside the venue has already gathered a big crowd, and you patiently wait for your best friend who's double-checking the doors if they're surely closed.

Wonwoo has been your best friend for five years, and being grateful to have him is an understatement as he has witnessed your ups and downs in college. He knows that apart from your family and him, Taylor and her music has already played such a great role from adolescence until adulthood.

As a sucker for books, Wonwoo was undoubtedly impressed by Taylor's songwriting prowess since he listens to your discussions during the free time about the lyric analyses that you read across the internet, and you usually play her live performances whenever you pull off all-nighters that's why he agreed to be your concert buddy because he wants to see the person who could give rainbows to the person he likes.

Yes. The person he likes.

Wonwoo thought being in a Taylor Swift concert is not bad at all. It's like having a big crowd of best friends gathering in one huge place to have fun with their most talented best friend. Everyone's perfectly singing along to every lyric, breathing to each punctuation, and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Honestly speaking, he was having fun, and boy, he could sing along to a few songs while waving with his light-up bracelet.

Aside from being fascinated by the live performances, he would sometimes steal glances at you, making him amused by your kaleidoscope of emotions you've shown from the past eight performances. Sometimes you'd turn to him just to sing while holding your chest, and go back to screaming how much you love Taylor Swift.

After the succeeding crowd-jumping performances, Taylor comes out with her black Gibson acoustic guitar to perform an acoustic version of her song just like the old days. The crowd has once again roared, and you scoot close to Wonwoo to whisper that Taylor's going to sing your favorite song from 1989.

He knows the story behind it. You told him on your graduating year at the rooftop of your college building while chugging an energy drink just to keep yourself awake from pulling off an all-nighter for your thesis, it was about Taylor’s known actress friend falling in love with her producer on this album—someone with the name Jack—if he could still guess correctly.

Taylor has already ascended for a clearer sight of crowds from the top seats, instructing everyone to sing back the specific words. Wonwoo watches you hugging yourself while craning your neck so you could see Taylor from above.

One look, dark room

Meant just for you

Time moved too fast

You play it back

Buttons on a coat

Light-hearted joke

No proof, not much

But you saw enough

You and Wonwoo first met at the same elective during college freshman year. You were sitting near the door, sparing the next seat with your bag since someone from your class politely asked you to but unfortunately, she never came back and it was perfectly timed that Wonwoo immediately spotted the vacant seat beside you, exhausted from running before he gets late (yes, in a goddamn first day of class).

He learned that you’re taking up creative writing that’s why said elective was important for your course. He told you that he was taking up computer science, but he still needs to take the elective.

...and then, your friendship started.

You have friends, but they’re few for your liking because socializing is exhausting. Wonwoo, on the other hand, despised being exhausted around people and that’s the reason why both of you became friends quickly. Reading was Wonwoo’s stress escape and yours was binge-watching k-dramas and reality shows.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

You are in love

Since both of you chose to live in dormitories at college, sometimes you’d walk together around the university park late at night and talk about stuff happening in your life outside academics. One time, you told him how you’re pissed at your family’s insights about coming out since they happened to share once about how your cousin came out at a family gathering and the next moment, he was already in the hot seat. You told Wonwoo that you wished you were there to end all of your religious hypocrite relatives.

Wonwoo, within the years of friendship, was never the type to initiate a conversation, but he’s an excellent listener. He could watch you talk about Taylor Swift, the perennial hate for your Major professor who’s academia-obsessed since she sets a standard too high for her liking while her class is on the brink of dropping out, and how you were fascinated about him staying up all night for computer games and still ace programming exams.

Suddenly, the crowd started to roar out of the blue, making him shake his head from spacing out. Still standing, much to his surprise since he hates getting tired, he realized that he’s just watching you being helplessly in awe at Taylor Swift no matter how neck-stiffening it is, how your eyes sparkled with bliss just like the days when you talk with him about the things you love.

And then he felt the pace of his heartbeat quickened.

The crowd was already singing along with excitement—he has no idea what kind of reason it is—but he remains watching you like you were excruciatingly hard to reach, despite how you could hear his loud heartbeat if this was an empty place.

One night he wakes

Strange look on his face

Pauses, then says “You're my best friend”

And you knew what it was

He is in love

You screamed you’re my best friend at the top of your lungs together with other sixty thousand people at Taylor despite how your best friend, who’s silently watching beside you, couldn’t calm himself down unnoticed.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You can see it with the lights out, lights out

You are in love, true love

Suddenly, you turn to Wonwoo as Taylor does her guitar break before singing the bridge, and you were surprised to see him just staring at you instead of watching Taylor from up above and tell you how skilled she was at playing guitar. The way he’s looking at you wasn’t even judging, teasing, or the usual antics that he does.

He’s just looking at you fondly and you thought maybe, he’s extremely happy that you get to see your longtime idol live after all these years and you deserved it so much.

...except that your tentative guess is incorrect.

“She’s really good, isn’t she?” you yelled at him proudly while pointing at Taylor with emphasis.

Your best friend could only nod and gesture at you to look back on your idol.

And so it goes

You two are dancing in a snow globe, 'round and 'round

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown

And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

And why I've spent my whole life tryin' to put it into words

That made Wonwoo look up to Taylor Swift in an instant and judged her as he could so. As Taylor stopped, the crowd screamed once again, but nothing is deafening as his heartbeat while watching you cheer in chorus.

He didn’t know if he should feel betrayed, because you were his partner during graduation ball and you were just having the best time of your lives because fuck it, despite being anxious about what’s to come after the graduation, both of you were so happy to have been able to survive despite the shit hole life your university has given.

He also happened to frame a picture of you in his office peacefully sitting beside the stacks of scratch papers for software development. He secretly requested for its original copy at the official student publication of your university during that one major event as he saw it on Facebook.

He realized that he’s in love with you after all this time.

Much to his misfortune, you suddenly looked at him again and your eyes met that he couldn’t look away, but this time it was replaced with worry. You caught him twice, and knowing Wonwoo, he’s not usually vocal when it comes to express his discomfort.

You gently hold Wonwoo’s hand. “Are you having a bad feeling? We could go out if you want to,” you whispered just audible enough for him to hear.

And that’s how he lost it.

It took him another deep breath to sink in that you chose his well-being over your once-in-a-lifetime moment with your idol.

Like… holy shit, he was so lucky to have you in his life and he thought this time, he wants to step out of his shell and gather the courage to tell you how much you mean to his life. He’s had enough secretly pining over you for years.

But first, he wants you to be happy and enjoy your time with Taylor. He shakes his head no and holds your shoulders to turn to Taylor who’s now descending for the next performance.

“I can’t believe she’s real, what the hell, she was fucking real, Wonwoo.” you sighed. “Oh my god.”

You couldn’t stop wiping your face after spacing out which made Wonwoo chuckle. After the concert and almost a painful hour of waiting to get out of the stadium, you mutually agreed to stop by the nearest convenience store.

Although you only bought a coffee and went back inside Wonwoo’s car.

“Me too.” Wonwoo whispers. That made you remember what happened during You Are In Love performance. You looked at him and tapped his shoulder.

“You looked unwell this evening. Were you honestly okay, Wons?” you ask.

He only blinked in response.

It took Wonwoo a few seconds to gather up his courage. Now that it’s only the two of you alone, he thought he must let it out.

“Yeah, I was just overwhelmed. You don’t have to worry.” he jokes, his attention remained at the store. He could see from his peripherals how your eyebrows furrowed, obviously not convinced enough by his excuse.

“What you told me about Taylor the first time you introduced her to me was...true,” he sighed deeply. “She sings what we couldn’t put into words.”

For someone like Wonwoo whose eloquence is something to look up to, you were confused by what he meant.

Wonwoo turns to face you and takes your icy palms to wrap them with his large, slender, and warm ones.

“I love you.” He says, straightly looking into your eyes.

Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Please don’t joke around!” You hit his shoulder, but all he does is let out a burst of breathy laughter.

But honestly, your heart skipped a beat after hearing his sudden confession.

Tracing circles on your hand, Wonwoo smiles at your bewildered expression. “You were wondering if I was having a bad time? No, it’s all Taylor’s fault for making me confess to you tonight. That took me a long time I guess.”

“Wait, what?”

“I love you and Taylor made me realize that I should confess before it gets too late.”

You looked up at Wonwoo while pulling your hand from his gentle hold and laughed. It was unbelievable how both of you have been painfully oblivious despite being helplessly pining towards each other.

It was your best friend’s turn to get puzzled so you took the time advantage to confess.

“Idiot, I liked you too, ever since we first met.” sounding bashful, you looked away hoping that you didn’t sound like an idiot. So much irony for making fun of your best friend a few moments ago. “I have no idea that you felt deeper than I thought I have.”

Even if you already knew how Wonwoo’s mind works for five years, he is always full of surprises.

Or maybe he was so happy tonight that he kissed your hand and never let go of it as he started driving you home.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fluff #svt fluff #svt scenarios #svt au #DOOD MY FUCKEN HEART I CANT #stream ready to love everyone #lf: heaven's cloud stans #kpop fiction #kiwistories

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gohyuck · 4 years

Text

pairing: best friend!mark x reader; some neighbor!jaemin x reader

genre: university!au, angst, slight smut

word count: 4.7k

warnings: unrequited love ft. oblivious mark, sex that ends in crying, general heartbreak because what else would it be

playlist recs: heather - conan gray, cayendo - frank ocean, i found - amber run, fools - troye sivan, from here - kafka tamura, drive safe - rich brian

I still remember Third of December Me in your sweater You said it looked better On me, than it did you Only if you knew How much I liked you

“I fucking hate frats,” You grumble, dabbing furiously at the front of your shirt with a crumpled napkin. There’s red - remnants of what you think must be jungle juice - scattered across the yellow cloth of your top, and you just know it’ll remain stained for eternity. “This cost, like, ten bucks at Walmart! I don’t have that kind of money to throw away, you know.”

“That’s just an hour’s worth of wages from the bookstore.” Mark, your best friend, points out, handing you another napkin when you exhaust the one in your hand. There’s mirth in his eyes and the threat of a laugh underlying his tone, but the warning glare you throw at him has him putting his hands up in surrender instead of making fun of you.

“God,” It’s only when someone pushes past you, opening the door behind you to get inside the cursed party house you’d been so quick to rush out of, that you realize just how cold it is outside. The warmth emanating from the inside of the house you feel against your back is short-lived as the door slams shut, but the damage is done: you’re already hyper-aware of what you don’t have. “God, it’s freezing, what the hell?”

“This is literally an end-of-semester party,” Mark, ever perspicacious, points out, adding insult to your injury without a second thought. “It’s early December. Be glad it isn’t snowing.”

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You only whine in response, ignoring everything your friend has said. The night hasn’t gone your way, and if Mark wasn’t here with you you wouldn’t have come at all. Unluckily for you, Mark Lee is popular amongst fraternity circles on account of being Jaehyun Jung’s hometown neighbor and friend, so you find yourself attending parties intermittently. If you could say no to Mark, maybe you wouldn’t smell vaguely of vodka and artificially flavored fruit punch right now.

“I’m in a t-shirt,” You repeat, ignoring any and all thoughts of your best friend you’re having, as always. “And it’s wet which is making me even colder. I hate it here.”

Mark only rolls his eyes, though you’re surprised to see him shrug off his windbreaker before pulling his black sweater over his head to reveal a thin white shirt. He hands it to you wordlessly before pulling his jacket back on and zipping it up, and when you only stare at the piece of clothing he’s given you, he has the audacity to laugh.

“I’m tired of your complaining,” He explains when your gaze meets his, though he jovially knocks his shoulder against yours when your eyes narrow momentarily. “And besides, you always look better in it than I do. Before you ask, I’m not cold anyways, so it’s all good.”

You don’t miss the comment about you looking better in it than he does. For a moment, just a moment before you pull the proverbial wool over your eyes and black polyester over your head, you imagine that he actually means it. He does let you borrow it an awful lot, after all: it’s in your dresser half as often as it’s in his.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” You huff out a lie, putting an arm through before pulling the rest of the sweater on. You’re immediately met with Mark’s cologne, and you pull his sleeves over your hands into sweater paws on habit. His clothes are always just a little long on you. “You’re like a human furnace.”

“Whatever dude,” Mark rolls his eyes again, though there’s fondness evident in them. “Come on - I’ll walk you back to your place.” He loops his arm through yours in a way you’ve gotten dangerously used to, dragging you away from the Nu Kappa Theta house.

He keeps his word, leaving you right in front of your door. When you go to take off his sweater, he stops you, telling you that there’s no rush to get it back to him. A quick hug and a short goodbye later, Mark is walking down the hallway, hands shoved into his jeans’ pockets. You watch as he gets to the stairwell, so desperately wanting him to turn back.

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t - you aren’t Heather. You fall asleep in his sweater hours later, still drowning in his cologne. Come morning, you fold it neatly and place it in the bottom drawer of your dresser, out of sight and out of mind.

But I watch your eyes, as she walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

You still remember the first time you’d seen her. It was mundane, really - she’d sat next to you during your first Computing class of the semester, and you’d introduced yourself to her and found her to be a sweet girl, the kind of girl people like being around. There wasn’t anything past that - the two of you went on with your lives, sometimes making idle conversation in class. You hadn’t thought much of your meeting with her until later.

Far more importantly, frankly, you remember the first time Mark had seen her, even if he doesn’t remember it himself. You’d been lounging under a tree, Mark’s back against the bark while you had your head in his lap. He’d been rambling on and on about something Donghyuck had said during their intramural dance team’s practice when he’d stopped speaking mid-sentence, forcing you to turn your head to see where his eyes were leading him.

Heather, in a pleated skirt and a beige sweater over a pristine white button down. She’d looked positively radiant while standing in the grass and laughing with friends, the sun shining brightly directly behind her. Mark, feeling your eyes looking up at his slack-jawed expression, had unfrozen eventually, raising a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck out of embarrassment. He’d been about to launch back into his story - this time likely punctuated by glances over at the other girl - when you’d interrupted him before he could begin.

“Her name’s Heather,” You’d told him, mentally kicking yourself even as you spoke. Who tells the love of their life the name of someone they’re obviously ogling? You hate the value you place on your friendship with Mark almost as much as you hate the fact that you’re in love with him. “She’s in one of my classes. She’s really nice, if you’re into that.”

“Of course I am,” Mark had muttered then, ears burning red. “Why wouldn’t I be into nice people?”

“You spend all your time hanging with me and Hyuck.” You’d pointed out, reaching a hand up to poke at his chin. He’d flicked your fingers away from him, though he’d immediately grabbed your hand right after, holding it tight for a moment on impulse and as if to show you he’d never really hurt you.

You’d wished the constant Mark-inflicted ache you’d felt - feel, still - was physical.

“You’re nice, dude,” Mark had insisted then, finally looking down at you. You’d felt suddenly insecure then, realizing that the angle you were at wasn’t the most flattering. There was no way you could compete to Heather, not with your disheveled hair and eyes that pierced through Mark like arrows. You’d wrapped your arms around yourself in insecurity and Mark had thought nothing of it, only continuing to speak. “You’re nice enough, at least, when you aren’t kicking my ass. Hyuck is… a thought best left for another day.”

You’d laughed then, and Mark had responded in kind. The rest of your break between classes had been spent like that: talking and laughing with your favorite person, irreplaceable by all accounts.

If he hadn’t chanced glances at Heather throughout it, you might’ve been able to consider that he found you irreplaceable in the same way you found him.

Mark hadn’t been subtle then.

He isn’t subtle now.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were Heather

Mark asks for the sweater back the day before you leave for winter break. Your flatmate is staying back - has research to work on through Christmas - so you’re free to visit your parents back home, and although you dread all the questions you’ll be asked, you can’t help but feel the slightest bit excited.

“I’ll drop by and pick it up before I head out, then,” Mark says, voice still warm as ever even as the phone makes him sound the slightest bit tinny. “What time is good for you?”

“I’ll be at the bus stop by 5,” You respond, phone between your shoulder and your ear and heart between your mouth and your chest as you pull his polyester sweater out of your dryer. “Come by any time before then.”

He drops past your place a little before 4, eyes sparkling when he tells you that Heather only lives about a half an hour away from him, so he’s taking her with him on his drive home. You muster the brightest smile you can when you tell him how wonderful that is, all while handing back the sweater that smells like your own detergent for now but you’re sure will soon smell like Heather’s perfume.

A week after seeing Heather for the first time, Mark had, by chance, joined your university’s Literature Club, not knowing that the girl who’d stolen his breath was a member. He’d had the same sparkle in his eyes when he’d regaled his first conversation with her to you, talking for ages about her opinions on The Picture of Dorian Gray and Slaughterhouse-Five. They’d clicked immediately, in his words. Two fitting puzzle pieces.

You’d bawled like a baby into your flatmate’s arms once your best friend had left your apartment that night, feeling entitled to the tears after so many hours of half real (you truly were happy for him) and half fake (you truly were sad for yourself) smiles.

It’s been three months since then. Heather and Mark aren’t dating just yet, but they’re an inevitability. You remind yourself of that after Mark leaves, sweater in hand and a promise to text you once he gets home sliding off his tongue.

He messages you a picture - a selfie of him and a smiling Heather - five hours later, a ‘we’re home safe!’ text accompanying it. It isn’t a surprise to you that she’s wearing the black polyester sweater in the photo, but it still stings nonetheless.

Mark had said you look better in the sweater than he does. Heather looks far better in it than you do.

When you reach your own home, you’re not alarmed to see Jaemin, your next-door neighbor who’s home from his own school for break, sitting at your kitchen counter and eating grapes out of a plastic bowl. His parents and your parents are great friends, and you’ve always gotten along fairly well with him. His hair is dyed a light blue, gelled back slightly to show his forehead, and he smiles the same cheeky smile he’s had since his sophomore year of high school at you. Jaemin’s always been breathtakingly handsome, always been as good looking as he is just good. He’d been a decent friend to you when you’d lived here, close enough to tell secrets to but not so close that he’d reveal them to anyone.

Jaemin had been your first kiss way back when, had been your first time barely after that, and you allow yourself to see the purely sexual tension that still exists between the two of you. You feel nothing but friendship - maybe just acquaintanceship - for him, and he for you. It’s perfect.

When both sets of parents go out for dinner, unable to drag the two of you out with them, you pull Jaemin up the stairs to your childhood bedroom to ride him frantically as if you’ll never feel this good again. He coaxes not one but two orgasms from you, cool hands roaming your body and nails raking gently over your thighs. Jaemin fucks up into you when you can’t move any longer, when your thighs shake from overwork, and he doesn’t complain, not once.

He pulls you down to him, bites your shoulder hard when he cums, spilling into the condom he’d managed to get on in the rush to be inside of you. When you don’t pull off of him afterwards, instead only beginning to sob quietly into his shoulder, he’s kind enough to run his hands over the span of your back to soothe you.

“That bad, huh?” He jokes, not letting you go. His hands are warm now. You shake your head adamantly even as you know he’s kidding before muttering a ‘it’s not you, it’s Mark’ into his skin.

“Did you just ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ me?” Jaemin questions, this time more confused than anything. You shake your head again, your tears glistening against his collarbone as you pull away enough to look him in the eyes.

“Mark. It’s Mark,” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. You’ve never voiced it aloud before - that it’s Mark. That it might just always be Mark. Jaemin’s okay, though - Jaemin won’t tell. How could he? He doesn’t even know Mark.

Your childhood neighbor stares at you, though not unkindly, for a long moment before nodding slowly in understanding and pulling you into his chest once more for a tight embrace. He doesn’t ask any questions - you assume he just gets it.

Jaemin manages to finger you to one more climax like that, with you curled up in his lap and your head against his chest. He murmurs sweet nothings that really mean nothing into your ear as he does, and you find that you could get used to this. You won’t, but you could. When you cum again, you only whimper and moan, incapable of forming words.

Mark’s name is on the tip of your tongue, and even though Jaemin would understand if you say it, you don’t. You can’t tempt yourself with a reality that isn’t available for you. It would be too cruel.

By the time your parents and Jaemin’s parents get back home, you’re wearing a sweatshirt you hadn’t been wearing earlier, mainly to hide Jaemin’s bite mark. You hug your neighbor goodbye, and he whispers a ‘it’ll be okay’ into your neck before pulling away, giving you a soft version of his devilish grin and waving before leaving with his mom and dad.

Maybe it will be okay someday, but for now, God, how you wish you were Heather.

You only text Mark back right before you go to bed, a quick ‘damn, guess i’ll have to hire a better hitman next time. for you, not for heather, she’s lovely’ before you rest. Is she at his house, her head against his chest as they talk about books or movies or whatever they talk about? Or is she on her way home right now, wishing for more time with Mark?

Your sleep is dreamless that night, despite the thoughts of Mark and Heather, Heather and Mark that run through your mind constantly. It’s the one stroke of luck you have.

Watch as she stands with Her holding your hand Put your arm 'round her shoulder Now I'm getting colder

You sleep with Jaemin intermittently during your break, finding quite quickly that he’s very willing to solely be a receptacle of your pent-up urges catalyzing. It’s hard to have sex with people at school because you’re always aware that Mark could be waiting at your apartment with food when you get back, or that he could be texting you while you’re getting laid. With Jaemin, you can truly push Mark out of your mind, if only just for a moment.

It’s good that you find a momentary respite in your childhood neighbor, because once you’re back on campus, it feels like the universe is purposefully tugging your stars out of their alignments just to torture you.

The weather still leaves much to desire, and although it isn’t as cold as it had been in December, you still carry a hoodie around with you wherever you go. They’re easy to pull over long-sleeved shirts and sweaters; after all, Heather’s always pulling Mark’s favorite forest green hoodie over the familiar black sweater that she wears.

Before, it had just been you, Mark, and occasionally Hyuck getting together and hanging out. At restaurants, you and Mark would sit on the same side, sharing appetizers while Hyuck actively guarded his food from your roaming hands. Now, when you go out to eat, you sit beside Donghyuck, Heather right across from you with her perfect smile and kind eyes while Mark sits right beside her, leaning back with his arm thrown over the booth behind her easily.

She’s genuine: when she asks about your hobbies, your likes, your dislikes, she truly wants to know. It’s good of her: after all, you’re one of the most important people in Mark’s life. You figure she must know that, the closer she gets to your best friend, the closer she should get to you.

You appreciate it. You also hate it.

When Heather gets up mid-lunch to go to the bathroom, parting from the three of you for the moment with a dazzling grin and an airy laugh that makes Mark visibly redden, the boy she’s wooing turns to you and your other friend, eyes full of hope. Donghyuck arches an eyebrow even as he knows what the other man is about to say.

“Man, isn’t she literally the best? There’s something between us, right? I should ask her out?” Mark’s running a hand through his hair as he speaks, a nervous habit he’s had the whole time you’ve known him (freshman year Intro to Film, he’d spilled his cold coffee all over you and panic-offered you his black sweater to wear as a cover-up and, the rest, as they say, is history).

“She’s on the higher end of the cool spectrum, yes there’s something, and it’s your life, dude, I can’t tell you who to date or not date.” Donghyuck responds before you can, and you catch him darting his eyes over at you in mild concern as he speaks. You haven’t told him about how you feel about Mark, but you’re sure he’s known for some time. He’s nothing if not deductive.

Mark rolls his eyes, mutters something about Hyuck always being the bare minimum amount of helpful, and then looks you directly in your eyes, waiting for your verdict. In that moment you know that he’ll seriously consider whatever you say, that if you don’t like Heather, he’ll do his best to dislike her too. Friendship above all else.

The word friendship leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, even if you value it so highly.

“Ask her out,” You finally say, the corners of your mouth quirking up together. The smile you wear doesn’t reach your eyes, but Mark’s too elated to notice. Under the table, Hyuck gently rests a warm hand against your knee for a split second, a show of ‘I’m here’ that you’re grateful for.

Before you can continue speaking - what would you even say? - Heather is sliding back into her seat, back from the bathroom. You can’t very well talk about her while she’s there, so you close your mouth inconspicuously, watching as Mark puts his arm around her shoulders rather than against the booth this time, pulling her just a little closer to his side.

You’re wearing two layers of clothing, but the air suddenly feels freezing. Donghyuck casually hands you a fry off his own plate, not keeping his food all to himself for the first time ever.

You accept it, even though it’s cold by now. Bleakness added upon bleakness changes nothing.

But how could I hate her? She's such an angel But then again, kinda Wish she were dead, as she Walks by What a sight for sore eyes Brighter than a blue sky She's got you mesmerized While I die

He asks Heather out a week later with a bouquet of flowers you help him pick our just hours before his trek to her apartment. Donghyuck comes over the night of your florist trip - your flatmate had left for a trip the night earlier, leaving you a tub of ice cream and a pile of 80s movies as a placeholder for human comfort - and holds you for hours, not saying anything as you sob through The Breakfast Club and Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and Stand & Deliver.

“I w- I wish she didn’t exist,” You hiccup into your friend’s shirt as he rests his chin on top of your head. “And then I feel awful because she’s just so nice. She’s always so nice. He likes her because she’s so nice.”

“It hurts worse when they’re nice, especially when you’re also nice,” He murmurs into your hair, pulling you closer into his chest. “Because then you can’t plot ways to get revenge without ending up being the asshole.”

“The jilted ex,” You agree, though it only causes you to cry harder. “Except I’m - I’m not even an ex.”

“Someday, you’ll be glad that you aren’t one of his exes.” Donghyuck assures you, and you know he’s right so you say nothing else, only wrapping your arms tighter around him. The healing process for your heartbreak starts then, as you stain your friend’s thin shirt with your tears and he rubs soothing circles into your back. Your heart might just sew itself back together.

The single stitch holding the halves of your heart together rips easily when Mark brings breakfast to your doorstep the next morning, obvious hickies dotting his collarbone once he pulls off his white pullover. The sight alone makes you feel like your lungs are airless and will forever remain so, and you realize that you’ll have to start healing all over again.

Still, you welcome your best friend into your apartment for breakfast like you do every Sunday morning, right before he goes to Church. Mark’s bought bagels today, from the café at the end of the block, and once he’s prayed like he always does before eating he spreads strawberry cream cheese all over one half of his bagel while talking about how well his ask had gone and thanking you for your floral expertise.

“I just thought they looked pretty,” You shrug, mentally begging for him to stop relating you to any aspect of his relationship. “No need to thank me.”

“I’ll always thank you, dude,” Mark says with ease, licking cream cheese off of his thumb. “You’re my best friend.” With this, he finishes off his breakfast, stands up from his chair at your breakfast nook, and wears his pullover again.

“Gotta pick Heather up, she said she wants to come to Church with me,” Mark says, and your heart twinges at how quickly she’s been introduced to the more intimate aspects of his life. You say nothing, only smile and nod, and Mark thinks nothing of it. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“We literally have a class together.” You scoff, doing your best to banter with Mark like you always do. He rolls his eyes at your statement, though his grin never falls from his lips.

“I’ll see you,” Is all he says, before leaning in and pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. He’s halfway out your door before he turns back - turns back like you’d always wished for him to - and calls your name.

“Yes?”

“You really did do me a favor by helping me with the flowers,” Mark says, giving you the most grateful smile you’ve ever witnessed. “She said the bouquet had all her favorites. I don’t know how you do it. You’re a lifesaver. Love you!”

With that, he’s out the door, and you can only watch as it slams shut behind him, trapping in his last two words as they curl around you like currents, pushing you deeper into the water that’s drowning you. It’s platonic, of course it is, it always has been. Still, you believe that if you never hear those two words together again, you might be all the better.

The bouquet had all of your favorites, too.

You need to stop wishing you were Heather.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better I wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather Wish I were Heather

It’s a little less than three months later when you’re out shopping by yourself at the local mall, in desperate need for some winter clothes before the next year’s winter starts. Everything’s on sale now, and you’re not one to pay extra money for no reason at all. You’re sitting through a rack of jackets when your phone vibrates, and you fish it out of your pocket to find that Mark has texted you four images, accompanied with a message asking ‘which one should I post O.o’.

They’re all of Heather in that black polyester sweater - the one you used to wear often - at an ice skating rink, and you assume Mark’s just gotten home from a date. She’s grinning brightly at the camera in the first picture while finishing tying up her skates. In the second one, her back is to the camera and her head is turned to the side, her hand holding onto Mark’s as she leads them across the rink. She’s looking right at the camera in the third one as well, eyebrows raised sportingly as she sips hot chocolate from a styrofoam cup.

You tell Mark to go with the fourth one: a candid of her just stepping on to the rink, eyes wide but smile even wider. Her head is turned, though she can’t see that her side profile is being captured. She’s beautiful without effort in a way you refuse to find in the mirror, and you know the fact that Mark has even taken a picture of Heather without her posing means he wants to cherish every memory with her. It’s sweet, and you tell him so.

You pocket your phone before reading his response, doing your best not to let his earnestness affect you. Mark is a good man, and Heather is a good woman. They’re good for each other, and you’re good for both of them as a friend.

As you turn around to inspect another set of for-sale winter clothes, this time on a table rather than a rack, you realize that, over the past few months, you truly have done your best to try and move on. It had been slow at first, yes, but by throwing yourself into your studies, taking time for yourself, and hanging out more with Hyuck and your other friends - though not less with Mark - has done you good. The ache has weakened, the stinging has stopped, for the most part. You’ve killed almost all of your Mark-related hangups or fixations, almost all of them except…

You rest your palm on top of a light blue sweater - cotton, not polyester - and run your thumb over it, exhaling slowly and blowing air out through your barely-parted lips as you do. It’s pretty, and your size, and you’re in need of one, and the one sweater you used to wear the most isn’t available to you anymore.

Jaemin’s words from months ago echo in your mind: ‘it’ll be okay’. You grab the sweater and make your way to the cashier’s counter, suddenly not needing to buy anything else anymore.

The breath of air you take upon leaving the mall, sweater in bag in hand, feels like the first one you’ve taken in a while. As you settle into your car and turn the ignition key, placing your purchase on your passenger’s seat, you’re hit with a realization that you didn’t think you’d ever have.

It’s all okay...

And you’re starting to no longer wish you were Heather.

Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half, as pretty You gave her your sweater It's just polyester, but you like her better Wish I were..

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