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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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The Quiet One 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a quiet life, but your peace is fractured by a chaotic man.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, short!shy!reader

Note: have a good day.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

“So, what do you think?” Lloyd asks as he turns to you, outstretching his arms as he gestures to the endless hangers. “All yours. You got your pick.”

You stand just inside the door of the walk-in closet. The space would take up at least half your apartment alone. You cross your arms as you glance along the rows of coloured fabric hung from the walls, organized in a perfect ombre effect of shades. On the far wall, there are shelves full of shoes and accessories, along with a vanity in the centre.

“I know you’re a simple gal,” he grins, “but you don’t have to be anymore. Whatever you want, ain’t no mountain high enough and all that.”

You nod and blow out between your lips. It all still feel surreal like a nightmare. You swallow and tamp down your discomfort. You didn’t hate the life you had. Your small apartment, manageable and tame. You prefer predictability, even if some might say it’s boring.

“Erm, I dunno,” you slowly trail over to the other side of the closet.

“Well, you could pick some shoes first. That might inspire you,” he suggests as he approaches you, “you don’t need to be too fancy, you know, you always look nice.”

“Mm,” you nod,” thanks that’s...”

You let the sentence hang. This is really freaking you out. Your chest feels tight and your head is buzzing. You shudder out a breath.

“What... what am I choosing for?” You croak.

“I told you, jellybean,” he puts his arm around you and pulls you against his side, “it’s a surprise.”

He reaches to grab a hanger and holds it out at arm’s length. A blush-coloured satin dress with a bit of frill at the bottom of the skirt. It’s nothing you would choose yourself.

“Sure, that’s nice,” you say, just to appease him. What else can you do?

“Hm,” he hums, “you don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say...”

“You don’t sound very excited,” he pouts as he turns to you, his hand lingering on your hip, “none of it? I got it all for you.”

“I’ll wear it,” you sniff, “I’m sorry, I’m just... I’m... adjusting.”

You don’t know how else to explain it.

He pushes his lower lip out and narrows his eyes, “sure, sure, makes sense.” He drags his hand off your hip and steps back, keeping the dress up as he angles it before you, as if he’s imagining you in it. “This is gonna look so hot, baby.”

You do your best to stay placid. It’s harder as you heart pounds furiously. You can’t even begin to guess what he has planned but with everything he’s done and said, you know exactly what his intent is.

“You should get washed up, huh? Then get dolled up. Like I said, won’t need much of that,” he winks, “you could walk in ass-naked and I’m sure you’d stun.”

You can’t help how your mouth slants at his remark.

“Alright, jellybean, let’s get you in the tub,” he lays the dress over the velvet bench and spins back, startling you as he grabs both hips and jerks you towards him with a growl, “can I watch? I promise, I’ll try not to touch. Yet.”

You clasp onto his wrists with a yelp. He curls his lips eagerly and you repress your horror. You don’t want to antagonise. You don’t want him to get any worse than he is.

“Um, did you want... to?” You murmur.

“Fucking of course,” he urges you against him, “the things I want to do...” he smirks, “I’m quaking in my boots.”

He bows to smother you with a kiss. His mustache pokes at your uper lip and up your nose as he hums and slides his tongue across your lips. You squeeze your mouth tightly shut but he pokes through, nearly choking you as he invades. You press your hands to his chest as he locks you into his embrace.

Finally, he part and you gasp for breath. He snickers as you puff against him. Your skin is crawling as you wriggle in his hold.

“Yum,” he purrs.

He lets his arms fall away and quickly snags your hand. You let him drag you around to the door, your feet hollow as they move without a thought. Resistance is plainly not a choice.

He takes you back into the adjoining bedroom, the one you awoke in, and through another door way against the perpendicular wall. He steps to the side as he tugs you forward and releases you. Your take in the sleek black walls and black tub, the silver shower head in a monochrome booth, and the ebon marble veined with sparkling white.

“I get it, it’s going to take a lot of getting used to,” he boasts, “this is our home, sweet cheeks. Remember that. You treat it like your very own... it is. Just like me, all yours.”

You pad slowly inside, if only to keep a distance from your captor. You won’t forget what he is. He can give you all the luxurious things but you remember the days of starvation, of terror. He can’t see himself for what he is but you do.

“Face masks, body scrub, bath bomb, shower gel, bonnet, robe,” he points at the fluffy purple robe still around you, “slippers,” he flicks his finger towards the mat beside the door, “lotions, creams, everything you can dream of. Oh damn, I can call a nail tech if you want a fresh mani--”

“Uh, no thanks,” ball up your fists, hiding your short-trimmed nails, “that’s not... that’s okay.”

“Only the best for you, kitty cat,” he says.

He strides forward and you flinch out of his way. He goes to the tub and cranks it on, water splashing out from the high faucet. He flips the silver lever to put the stopper in place and backs up.

“Voila, all for you,” he declares, “I’ll just...” he looks around and backs up to sit on the fluffy cushioned stools near the wall, “sit and watch. If you need help getting your back, I got you.”

He wiggles his fingers and gives a lecherous grin. You withhold a shudder and face the basin, the water battering the bottom. You step forward and peer down into the shallows. You clutch the front of the robe and peek over in his direction but not at him.

He waits, silently. You sway, squeezing the fluffy fabric as you peer back at the water. You don’t know if you can do it. Not with him right there.

“Whatsa matter, baby, you need help?” He shifts and you jolt.

“N-no, I just...” you look down at yourself and frown.

“Ah, you’re shy. I totally get it,” he coos, “you don’t gotta be though. Your beautiful, so you should be proud. Show it off, honey.” He clucks and shakes his head, “you know that’s the thing these days, all you girls, you’re so insecure, but you trust me, sweet lips, you got nothing to be insecure about.”

Your stomach flips. You feel hazy. You try to shrug it off and drop your hands to the belt of the rob. You untie it. You’re really going to do this. Why?

Because you’re afraid? Weak? Yep.

You shed the rob and look around. You hang it on the hook behind the door and return to the tub. It’s getting deeper and deeper. You touch the bottom of your shirt and scrunch it up in your fists. Just do it quickly and get in. He can only see so much from over there.

You pull your shirt off, nothing underneath. You push your pants down quickly, your underwear rolling down inside. The skin feels cooler then and tingles across your naked skin as you latch onto the tub and swing yourself over the edge. You barely get a foot under you before you submerge your body in the water.

You sit up, legs bent, stiff on the porcelain as the water continues to rise. It’s not quite at your chest yet. If you let it fill all the way, it might touch your chin. As you watch the depth climb, you don’t notice him until he closes. You slide to the back of the tub as Lloyd cranks off the faucet.

You notice how his eyes stray to you. Your legs stay bent in front of you, blocking most of everything. You shrink down, hunching your shoulders as he searches through the ripples. He tilts his head and cracks his neck as he exhales and backs away.

“Take your time, baby,” he purrs as he rubs his chest.

He sits again and you lower your head. You’ve never been this bare in front of anyone, rarely even yourself. You’re just not comfortable without some short of shield around you. Your eyes tinge with the threat of tears. You feel like you’ve been hit across the face. This is real. Really real.

Your eyes flick up and you reach for the purple scrubby on the little black shelf. You just have to get through it. That’s what you’ve always done.

👄

You stare into the open case. You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept of make-up. When you were a teen, you had a phase, and you’ve been to enough job interviews to wield a mascara wand. Still, the amount seems excess.

There’s almost every sort of product in every shade. Some sort of tap you don’t know what to do with, highlighter, and finishing spray. It’s too much. Your look is either a bare face or nothing at all. More often the former.

You fidget with a tube of lipstick, clicking the lid up and down. This is all so strange. What are you getting ready for? And why? This isn’t your home, this isn’t your life, and yet it’s all so perfectly planned.

“Honey bunnnnnn,” Lloyd’s timbre has you dropping the stick. He strides in, flustered, holding up two ties. He’s half dressed. A pair of red velvet pants and amber satin button up. It’s not a look you would go for. “What do ya think? Which tie? Paisley or the stripes?”

You shrug and shake your head.

He clicks his tongue, “genius, baby, genius. No tie. You’re right. Just the jacket.”

Your mouth falls open and you nod, “sure, yeah.”

You look back at the vanity and huff. Your face is untouched. You sit in your robe in the walk-in closet, mulling over your misery. Self-pity is as inescapable as these walls.

“What’s up, cheeks?” He asks, “you need some help? I’m thinking you could give a bit more colour to lips but keep the rest very subtle.”

He crosses the floor and hovers behind you. You stir around in the case and take out two bottles of foundation. You’ve never really used that either but the shades are pretty close. He lays the ties down on the vanity, brushing your back as he does, and pulls back to grip your shoulders.

“I tried to guess as best I could. Don’t know much about all that but the lady in the store was a blessing,” he massages your shoulders as he talks. You’re tense as steel. “But you know, you got perfect skin so...”

“Mm,” you put the foundation back and peruse the little shelf alongside the mirror. You reach for the moisturizer. Your skin feels raw.

“I like it, au natural. Touch of cream, little lash...”

“I’ll figure it out,” you grumble. He’s kind of annoying. No, he’s really annoying. All of this is annoying.

“Right, yep, I will get out of your way,” he bends and kisses the crown of your head, “lots of time.”

He strolls out and you scowl at the mirror. Something about him is getting to you. You’re not an angry person. You’re a nice person. You don’t go out of your way to be around others but when you are, you strive to be pleasant. Or at least, out of the way.

You spread the cream over your face, watching your reflection as if it’s someone else. Where did he come from? Why? This is some cruel trick because you only ever wanted to mind your business.

You cap the bottle and put the moisturizer back. You fish out a mascara stick and brush it on your lashes then find a neutral lip colour to put on. Nothing special, just like you. Hopefully he sees that soon enough.

You pack away the case and push it to the back of the vanity. You get up and go to the velvet bench where the dress lays. He’s plucked out a few things to go with it. A gold necklace with small diamonds speckled along it and a pair of beige heels.

You peek at the door before you untie the robe. You shiver as your fingers brush your stomach. You close your eyes as you recall how he wrapped you up in a towel after your bath. His touches were more than deliberate but his intrusive gaze made you squirm more.

You pull on the lingerie tucked under the dress. A thong. You’ve never worn one of those, and a satin and lace bra with no padding. Even as you pull the dress up your figure, you feel like you’re on display. You reach back, bending your arm until your elbow throbs as you push the zipper up.

“Need some help?” Lloyd’s voice makes you wince.

You sniff, “sure.”

You hold up the bodice as he approaches. You refuse to look back at him as he nears. He tickles along your spine with a single finger before he tugs on the zipper. He pulls it up little by little, until the fabric is snug around you. His fingertips drift down your back and he spreads his hands across your ass. You gasp.

Before you can step away, his hands glide around and he grabs you by the hips. He pulls you against him and rocks with you. He inhales your scent from above and sighs.

“Jellybean...” he almost sings, “are you...untouched?”

You lock up and grab at his hands, trying to free yourself.

“Is that why you’re so shy?” He snickers and spins you around, hands going to your waits, “I’m honoured to be your first.”

You gape at him, horrified. His intent hasn’t been hard to guess but said aloud, it is all too imminent.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #the gray man #the quiet ones

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere.

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house.

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook’s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married.

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great.

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here.

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met.

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky.

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace.

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground.

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks.

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go.

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back. [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.” You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement.

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge.

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him.

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him. His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening.

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

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siconetribal · 24 days

Text

Put it on My Tab (20)

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Warning: Interview pressure, No filter

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

As always, a huge thank you and shout out to @harlequin-hangout for the amazing banners you made for me.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

An ache started at the base of the back of her head. How long had she been standing here with her neck craned back, looking up at the tall justice building that held the Gotham City Police Department. Y/N could count the number of times she had been her on one hand. This visit was not breaking that record, but she hoped this would be the only one needed. She appreciated the department as a whole, but like all places, it had rotten personalities.

And now weirdos like Dick Dick. She snorted at the little nickname she had for the detective she was working with on the claim case. “Well, I guess he really isn’t all that bad. There are weirder people in this city, like criminals with themes.” The mumbled words were hers alone to hear as she rocked her head side to side to ease the tension before walking in. The ‘enthusiastic’ receptionist barely moved when pointing to a hall of doors, she eventually found her way to the right place and was led to an interview room.

“Y/N, good morning, glad you could make it.” The young detective flashed her a swoon worthy grin. She was not sure if he was trying to charm or disarm, so she gave a small polite smile back.

“Well, it was either come or possibly have a warrant out for my arrest for fraud. As dull as everyday life can be, I like not having a noose around my neck. Plus, my boss would fire me, and I lack a sugar daddy for that luxury.” The casual shrug was in stark contrast to the wide-eyed shock that currently adorned the face of the handsome detective. His brows were so high that they were slightly covered by his bangs that swept across his forehead. “Everything ok?”

“No-yes, sorry, yes. I was just trying to figure out if that was a good morning or something else.”

“Did I forget to say good morning? Where are my manners, good morning…and now you can tack all that I said after that.” She said with a triumphant smile, taking a seat. “Have a seat, let’s get this statement down, and I’ll be out of your well-kept hair and back to grinding coffee beans and whipping up crazy drinks for overly privileged teens.” She motioned to the seat that was clearly meant for him to take.

The corners of his mouth twitched as he pulled out the chair and angled it to face her better. He was thrown off. This was good for her, a little victory for her in all this. It was only fair that he be equally thrown as she, a normal Gothomite, would feel while in a room like this. “I’m guessing your dream job isn’t being a barista.” He chuckled.

“What job could be more satisfying than slaving away in a tiny spot with a few others, a single counter keeping you from the rabid coffee-addicted zombies that come rushing in impossible demands that they don’t even know they want?” She raised a brow at him, her voice was flat and dry. He chuckled again.

“You make a valid point, working for the public is not fun.” He briefly raised his hands, palms facing her, before resting on the table again. “Shall we get started then? As you know, this meeting will be recorded. It’s nothing serious, just formality and procedure. We can stop whenever you want, you’re not under arrest or being interrogated.” He placed a tape recorder on the table between them and clicked the red button. “If you don’t have any questions, we can begin.”

“Oh, one question Dick Dick, Nightwing gave me a tip that evening, do I need to hand that over to you as part of the claim or do I just keep it as a usual tip from a customer?”

Dick Grayson sat frozen in place, the reels of the tape slowly turning as it caught all of her words. This was the second time today that this odd young woman rendered him speechless, but this time was different. He was not sure if he should be laughing at her words or at himself. She had not said anything wrong, and he knew that. It was informal, possibly derogatory to some, and very old-fashioned. It was something he never expected, and yet he knew he was at fault for forgetting he was currently speaking with the very young woman who had his usually grumpy little brother even grumpier than usual.

But did she actually say that on purpose, or was that a slip of the tongue? She was calling me Detective Grayson up until now. Did I miss something? I can see why he’s all knotted up, she really knows how to throw a guy. He watched the slow realization of her words dawning on her. Her eyes widening, her back going straight as she sat taller, and her jaw silently opening and closing until words finally started coming out. A series of apologies and reassurances that she had no ill intentions.

“Can you strike that from the record? Like erase it?”

“I can have it stricken from the transcript, yes, but not from the audio recording, no. That’s, that’s going to be staying on here forever. It’ll just be disregarded, since we’re officially marking it as struck from the record.” He swallowed the laughter that threatened to take over him as she slumped forward with her face hidden in her hands. Her words were low and muffled, but he was certain he heard a few more apologies in there before she forced herself back up and looked at him. “As for your question, a tip is a tip. You said you gave them coffee, they decided to give you a tip. It’s got nothing to do with the claim, since all that’s being asked to be covered is the restoration of the window. Now, shall we officially begin?”

As soon as the interview had concluded, Y/N was out the door before anything else could be said, mostly by her. The last thing she needed was for the detective to try to pry out anything more embarrassing from her. Her heart rammed into her chest as her mind so mercifully replayed her words and the look of horror that came across Detective Grayson’s normally jovial expression on an infinite loop. The flirtatious cop had shrunk away, and the look had to be disgusted, what else would he feel after someone called him something so utterly ridiculous. Regardless of his highly unprofessional dalliances, he never actually crossed a line with her. She, who kept it completely professional throughout the time, had blown everything up to the high heavens.

Because clearly, my mind is willing to give up the idiotic things that come to me, for free. Slapping a hand over her eyes, rubbing up and down a few times before combing her fingers through her hair. “Don’t say it, Y/N, don’t say it. If you say it, something worse will happen.” Climbing up the steps of the bus, she quickly took one of the few available seats and plugged in her earbuds. She sank into the uncomfortable seat, actively pushing the mortifying memory that would haunt her for the rest of her days, as she increased the volume. With her favorite playlist playing on shuffle, she mindlessly went through her phone and realized she was now staring at the old text conversation between her and her ‘capeless crusader’. Automatically, her thumb moved to close the screen, but the finger hesitated. It hovered between tapping back to her home screen and the input box in the chat.

Maybe he’s a bigger dumbass and thinks I’m happy he’s out of my hair? She bit her lower lip as she warred with what to do. There’s no harm in texting, right? What’s the worst that can happen? He doesn’t read or leaves me on read? He wasn’t the best at texting right away with his work schedule. Not only that, but he could be busy. She reasoned in favor of him. “What do I even text him? It’s not like I’m living an exciting life.” She grumbled when one word from the chat came into focus.

<Hey, I know this is late, but thanks again for helping me out. I let my brain just shut down and enjoy the first few days of debt-free life. The brownies you made were amazing. Didn’t peg you as the baking type. Books, bikes, and now baking? You’re a triple B threat, Boy Wounder. Are you still planning that meet up, or should I quash my hopes before they’re dashed?> She reread the message several times, tweaking the tiniest of things. It got to the point that she was getting frustrated herself and just hit the arrow to send and shoved the phone into her pocket. It was done and there was nothing more she could do except wait for would inevitably feel like an eternity or will actually be an eternity, if he decided not to reply. Nothing to worry about, but why would her mind side with logic? Today was to be a day of mental anguish, all thanks to herself.

Tags:

@vbecker10 @wordsfromshona @harlequin-hangout @harpy-space @tild3ath @gone-batty-fics @princessbl0ss0m @dakotall @antiquecultist

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icequeenbae · 5 months

Text

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.4 (fin) | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), some altercations, a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 3.7k (pt.4)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

Chapter Masterlist: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: Yesss, the time has come for the final part of the series to drop~ This is more on the fluffy side tbh, but I hope you find it to be a pleasant ending to this mini-series. As usual, please don't be shy to leave feedback in any way you prefer, I track all of your replies/ reblogs/ asks ❤️ And thank you for giving so much love to my stories, I do appreciate that a lot!!

Tags: @bbh-net @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @lavnderluv @cupreoussyzygy @byunbaek-hyun-04 @blue-rainydays

‘I can’t believe you didn’t tell me earlier!!’

Yuki was over for girl’s night, and this time, she wasn’t the only one gushing about her prosperous sex life.

‘I was waiting for test results.’

‘Huh? Test results?’

You realized that you’d just spilled all the beans you didn’t intend to spill.

‘Uh- we didn’t exactly- you know?’

‘What?’ She asked suspiciously, probably not even imagining that you could get so careless.

‘Well…’ You swirled your hand around abstractly.

‘I don’t know what that means- Wait. No, you didn’t!?’ Judging by her lit-up eyes, she guessed right. ‘You little hoe!!’

‘Look who’s talking.’

‘Yes, I’m talking. And I want to know everything. Starting with the result of that test, actually. You stupid hoe.’

Sighing, you rolled your eyes.

‘It’s negative. Thankfully… But it was really stupid of me, I know.’

‘Well, did he at least pull out on time? It’s not a safe option, but the timing is somewhat important…’

‘He did. Although he said, he’s never had sex without condoms.’

‘Damn. I should change what I said to ‘you lucky hoe’! I hope you took that test properly.’

You nodded. That was the first time you had to march into a pharmacy to get pregnancy tests. And you had no clue about how to choose out of the dozens of available options. The only reason you were able to ask for help was that you wore a mask – to save you some face, literally.

But that landed you with a few options and some instructions to follow. You had also gotten your period after your two-day sexcapade with Baekhyun, so you were pretty sure you were lucky this time. But you were still concerned with the long-term options. Something you’d left for the future discussion with your physician.

There were other things on your mind right now.

‘Actually, there’s something else that’s been bothering me.’ You mentioned reluctantly. ‘We haven’t… made it official. I mean- he hasn’t asked me yet. Is that… indicative of anything?’

The thought was bugging you daily.

The words ‘Would you be my girlfriend?’ or anything of the sort, had never left your neighbor’s mouth. And you were the one who shamelessly got drunk, ended up in his bed, made him sleep in it with you, and then… Weren’t you so very eager to jump into having sex with him?

Not to mention that you’d stayed at his place for two whole days, Sunday being filled by more domestic delights, and… Even more sex. It seemed like Baekhyun was focused on you and completely insatiable. You couldn’t remember doing it more than once or twice a day, so you were stunned as you realized you had gone four times. His stamina was surprisingly remarkable.

It was a relief that you had to eventually leave his apartment, for you had to work on Monday. As you ran a bath at your place, you realized how sore and exhausted you were. The fact that just a couple days prior, you got shitfaced was probably a contributing factor, but also, the amount of physical activity was very unusual for your body. Though this was a great type of exhaustion, and you had the deepest sleep that night.

But now, almost two weeks later, you were pretty anxious about how your relationship was progressing. Relaying all of the basics to your friend and asking for her opinion was supposed to make you feel better; however, she shared your concerns.

‘This is weird. So, he had time to sex you up multiple times but not ask you a simple question?’ She frowned. ‘You know how it is here, Y/N… You’re not official until you say the words.’

You knew. And that wasn’t even the only cause for your uncertainty.

‘It’s not only that, but… We haven’t really hung out since.’ You mumbled, expecting a big reaction from your friend.

‘What?! Is the bastard ghosting you??’ She rose from her seat, looking ready to burst into his apartment and give him a piece of her mind.

‘No, he um- he had to go to some distant town for a work assignment. He told me that there might not be any internet connection since they would be on some military base or something like that. He said it would last a bit over a week, and then he’ll visit his family for a few days and get in touch with me from there.’

‘So, has he?’

‘So far… No.’ You admitted.

Yuki huffed, her eyebrows knitting together angrily.

‘Yah. That seems fishy as hell. Why wouldn’t he at least send you a text? Who disappears after having someone over for the entire weekend of fucking??’

‘We weren’t doing it the entire weekend…’ You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again.

‘Come on! He didn’t ask you to be his girlfriend, disappeared on a ‘mission’ that sounds unrealistic, and hasn’t gotten back to you for almost two weeks? Wow, was I wrong about him.’

You scratched your temple, exhaling hopelessly. She just voiced everything that you thought to yourself. You kept giving him the benefit of the doubt in your head, but she was right. It was too odd for someone to vanish into thin air like this right after what had happened between the two of you. This was the hard truth, and it hit your softest, most vulnerable spot. Your heart.

‘I guess so,’ you muttered, voice a bit scratchy with the inevitable tears you held back. ‘What do I even do now, Yu? I like him a lot, which is precisely why I didn’t want to start anything…’

‘First of all, stop crying. If he decided to do this on purpose, he is a dickhead. And doesn’t even deserve to call you his girlfriend.’

She reached out her hands to wipe the stray tears off your cheeks.

‘Second… You need to grow some balls, Y/N. Don’t let people take you for granted or make you feel less than you are!’ She said in a serious tone. ‘I’ve told you this before: you shouldn’t retreat to your shell when someone attacks. You’re strong, beautiful, and an amazing person, capable of giving them hell if you need to!’

Snorting at Yuki’s passionate speech straight out of some girl power drama, you shook your head.

‘Yes, you are! Stop feeling sorry. If someone hurts you – don’t let them. I don’t mean Baekhyun exclusively. You know you’ve been in various situations lately where defending yourself was vital. Stop being a good, cautious girl who gets into her own head before saying anything. Act the way you want, and if someone is offended – it’s their problem. I’ve seen you speak your mind before, and it was damn powerful. That’s why it’s time that you do it for you.’

It wasn’t hard to guess what she was referring to. You’d been keen on staying collected on the outside and hid your emotions fairly well. You’d never let your struggles show, even when you were going through a difficult time at your previous job. You preferred crying in the restroom during lunch break to letting anyone know. You didn’t want to deal with that. Sad or angry, you processed every thought before opening your mouth and saying something, just because you knew how hot-tempered you could become if you didn’t keep your tongue in check.

However, you did let it slip sometimes, mostly when someone hurt the people you love, as opposed to you. A couple years ago, you had to pick Yuki up from a random party she was stuck at, and there was a guy who made unwanted moves on her. As you arrived at the scene, you had to search the entire house for her until you walked into the kitchen, where the bloke was trying to kiss her while she was shoving him away. You vaguely recalled what you did… grabbing his shoulder to turn him around, kneeing him in the balls without hesitation. Yuki later shared that she sobered up as she heard you swearing excessively at him. You told him everything on your mind, and he was scared to talk back. Apparently, you looked like a force of nature back then.

And although this wasn’t the first time you’d done something like this, it was mostly reserved for someone else. But now that you were contemplating your life… You found that you might’ve been missing the point all along.

‘Actually… You have a point, Yu.’

Your best friend blinked, surprised by your response. She’d been trying to get through to you many times before, and now you finally listened?

‘Why should I always be the one to swallow my pride or feel uncomfortable? I’ve always been a good girl, and where did it get me?’ You wiped your face dry. ‘I’m not gonna do a one-eighty and become a crazy bitch now, but it’s time to let go. I won’t try to reach him or wait for him at the door. If he was one of the bastards who thought I was too boring to have a relationship with, well… Fuck him then. I’m done with feeling bad about myself.’

‘Yay! That’s what I’m saying. You go, girl!’

‘I’m sure I’ll get over him in no time. Yes, we’re neighbors; it’s gonna be awkward. But why should I be the one worried about it? I’ll be sure to let him know I don’t give a shit about him and his stunts if I ever see him again.’

‘That’s the spirit, Y/N-ah! Gosh, this calls for a celebration. Where’s the champagne I brought last time?’

‘I hoped you’d ask. In the fridge.’ You chuckled.

‘Coming right up,’ she winked, already headed to the cupboard to get the glasses.

***

Friday rolled in, having you overcome the struggles of getting work done while having your head elsewhere. Your office hours were so long and miserable that you were dead set on doing your house chores and then going straight to bed tonight. Just to sleep in tomorrow, wake up completely free for the day, and order from your favorite restaurant and chill. If anyone deserved a feast, it was definitely you! Rewarding yourself for getting through the week and spending five minutes not thinking about your personal life was a great achievement in your book. Maybe not great, but a triumph.

Walking up to the entrance, you saw a tall figure there.

It didn’t seem familiar until you were a ten-second walk away. Then you realized – it was that woman. That one who broke into Baekhyun’s apartment while you were there. And the one who called him up about having dinner together at his place.

Your first instinct was to turn around and sneak through another entry point. You hated confrontation, especially in case you didn’t initiate it. At this time, all you wanted was a quiet evening, and it was about to be ruined.

Your pride, however, didn’t allow you to back down. Suddenly, your conversation with Yuki replayed in your mind. She was right; you shouldn’t let anyone treat you that way or make you feel any less. And if you had to withstand a pointless attack, you could simply fire back. With that in mind, you reached the gate.

‘You!’ The voice made you sigh and brace yourself before turning around. ‘It is you! I’ve seen you before.’

‘Congrats,’ you shrugged, ready to walk away.

She grabbed your forearm.

‘Are you going to Baekhyun again?’

‘I find it unlikely that my destination is any of your business. Let go of me.’

She gritted her teeth, squeezing your arm painfully.

‘Listen, whore. I’ve been working on him for months, and as soon as I’ve made progress, you swing by and think you’re-’

‘No, you listen, bitch.’ You ripped out of her grasp, completely fed up with this. ‘I don’t care if you think you’re entitled to have him. But let me tell you this. I live on the thirteenth floor, so if I see you there again, I’m calling the police. Stop creeping around my house and get a life.’

‘You-’

‘Is everything alright?’ You turned to the security, who most likely caught your exchange in front of the gates on CC TV and decided to come check it out.

‘Yes,’ you nodded, pressing your code in and pushing through the entrance. ‘This person is blacklisted on our building, check under Byun Baekhyun. And please make sure she doesn’t sneak in and cause more trouble.’

‘Of course.’ The guard made sure the door was appropriately locked after you.

The woman, whose name you still didn’t know, shouted profanities at your back as you walked away.

You hated confrontation, but this felt good.

Later this evening, you gladly told your best friend about it.

‘Damn, you should’ve called me as soon as you got home! This is so cool,’ she yelled as you relayed the story.

‘I wanted to clean up first. You know we talk for hours… I'm glad I did; I’m sure I’d have zero energy if I had to do it now. I’m already in bed and so sleepy.’

As if to emphasize your point, you let out a loud yawn.

‘How graceful. I am in bed too, but I wish I could see her face when you… Is there a way to get my hands on the security footage?? I’d flirt with your guards just to have a chance to see that!’

You heard someone grumble in the background.

‘I’m sure you’d love to see that footage just as much as me, Seokie,’ she teased.

‘Ew, don’t tell me you’re in bed with Hoseok right now!’

‘What if I am? Jealous?’ She asked, and you rolled your eyes.

‘Sure. I hate you lovebirds.’

‘He’s been eavesdropping on your story about that bitch you put in her place, and he looks impressed.’

‘You go, Y/N-ah!’ You heard Hoseok shout.

‘Thanks,’ you giggled, feeling at ease. ‘That’s at least one source of frustration off my shoulders.’

‘Aw, you’re still upset about that bastard going MIA on you?’

‘I’m trying not to think about it. But… Baekhyun’s either been offline everywhere or has blocked me. I just keep thinking… If it’s the former, what if something happened?’’

‘Oh ,Y/N. I hate that you’re this kind. Next time you see him, tell him off just like his stalker.’

‘I guess,’ you agreed weakly. ‘Anyways, tomorrow is a new day, and I have great plans, so I need to sleep now.’

‘By great plans you mean ordering food and wearing pajamas all day?’

‘You know me so well! Don’t bother coming over, I’m not gonna share. It’s a me-day.’

‘Ugh, what a hoe.’

‘I’m hanging up.’

You put your phone away, giggling at her goodbye growl. She always knew when to tease you to make you relax, and it was one of the reasons you considered her a great friend.

She was always there to back you up and listen to your whining, if needed. At least when you went back to being alone again, you weren’t completely alone.

***

You danced eagerly to the door, ready to pick up your order. It was afternoon, and you were hungrier than a wolf. The delivery guy had just sent you a picture of your package, so you were to simply get it at your doorstep. Which was how you preferred it – living alone as a woman could be slightly creepy, so all contacts with strangers were to be avoided. Your apartment building had great security, but… better safe than sorry.

Thinking all that, you opened the door without checking if the coast was clear. Since you were already crouched to get the package off the floor, you instantly saw a pair of legs in front of you. Male legs. Someone was standing right outside of your door.

You quickly glanced up, meeting the chocolate eyes.

And then grabbed the doorknob, trying to shut the door. But a swift foot in the doorway prevented you from doing so.

‘Whoa, wait a second, Y/N-ah!’

You still wouldn’t budge, so Baekhyun continued.

‘I know what it must’ve looked like, but let me explain. Please, Y/N. I know I fucked up.’

He tried stealing a glance at your face through the crack on the door, but you turned away.

‘Why should I listen to a single word you say?’

‘Don’t you want to know what really happened?’

Trying to make up your mind, you looked down at the package in your other hand.

‘I’ll need five minutes tops to set the table.’ You announced, letting go of the doorknob and allowing him to follow you inside. ‘Be done till then, I don’t wanna spoil my healthy appetite.’

You said that while walking towards the kitchen to get your food out. Baekhyun put something suspicious on the floor and stepped into the kitchen silently.

Expecting him to start the explanation, you huffed.

‘Your time is going to be up before you know it!’

‘I’m sorry.’ He said, voice heavy with guilt. ‘I’m sorry if I made you upset. I know we agreed that I’d stay in touch, and I didn’t. But I promise you I didn’t disappear on purpose.’

You began taking out containers of food from your delivery.

‘My phone was handed in the entire assignment because that base wouldn’t allow any devices inside but our pre-approved laptops. I was planning to text you as soon as I arrived at my family home because when I received my phone back it was dead.’

Listening to him talk, you avoided looking his way. You wanted to process his words without any additional… distractions. It was time to be rational; meeting his warm, guilty gaze again would cost you half of your battle spirit.

‘I left it to charge as soon as I got home, but…’

He made a big, almost theatrical pause.

‘But?’ You nudged, wishing to know the truth.

‘I don’t know how to say this… Uh- Siwoo wanted to take a picture of something outside just to be playful and accidentally dropped it out the window.’

It was your turn to pause. Was he kidding you with that story?? You couldn’t believe he was trying to blame all of this on a child.

Your thoughts must’ve displayed clearly on your face, so he fished his phone out of his back pocket.

It was brand new. It was evident that the model was upgraded, and the color was different, too.

‘I restored the photos from the cloud, I can show you the picture he too—’

The shiny new device was proof enough for you, and you weren’t willing to have him provide you with further evidence of his innocence. Nevertheless, you wanted to make sure he was genuine in his apology.

‘Why couldn’t you at least call our building and ask them to give me a message?’

He stood there, stupefied, for what seemed like an eternity before his expression turned into a sheepish grin.

‘I could’ve… done that?’ He mumbled, scratching the back of his head.

Clearly, the thought had never crossed his mind.

You rolled your eyes and turned to the kitchen counter. The table was set, and you only needed to get the plates. The prettier ones were reserved for the rare occasions when you had guests, so you had to reach for them.

‘Y/N…’ Baekhyun whined, sounding uncharacteristically childish in his desperation. ‘I also brought you an ‘I’m sorry’ present…’

Hearing this made you snap.

‘Why would you do that? It’s not like we’re dating!’

He was taken aback by your words.

‘What do you mean we’re not?’ He asked, completely bewildered. ‘Are you seeing someone else?’

‘No, but-’ It was your turn to mumble. ‘You never asked me…’

Baekhyun looked at you as if you were crazy. Then, his frown transformed into something else.

‘Oh god, Y/N…’ He sighed, leaning on the counter behind you with one hand. ‘I thought it was obvious. I was serious about you from the very beginning, but if you want me to say it, I will say it.’

You waited for him to finish.

‘Please be informed that I’ve considered you my girlfriend this entire time. And I know I fucked up, so… are you gonna break up with me?’

‘I’m debating it,’ you responded gruffly.

‘Y/N-ah,’ He pressed, still hovering over you while his arm inched closer and closer to your frame. ‘I’ll do anything you want to make it up to you.’

Taking in his hopeful eyes, you pointed to the kitchen cabinet.

‘I need plates.’

Following the direction of your index finger, Baekhyun looked up. He reached over you, almost hugging you with one arm, and gave you what you wanted.

‘Thank you.’

He perked up, a question in his eyes. ‘What now?’

Although you were still grumpy, your heart was beginning to warm up to him. So easily.

‘Go sit at the table. I’m hungry.’

Baekhyun’s chocolate orbs instantly lit up.

‘Does it mean you forgive me?’

The hopefulness of his tone made your façade crack.

‘You’ve mentioned a goodie bag?’ You squinted at the huge paper bag he left at the door, just to avoid crumbling right in front of him.

Baekhyun smiled cheekily.

‘It’s all yours. Babe.’

You ignored the term of endearment, turning your back on him to hide your warming cheeks.

‘Get yourself another set of chopst—’

Your boyfriend gave you an abrupt back hug.

‘B-Baekhyun?’

‘I really missed you, Y/N-ie.’ He whispered in your ear, nearly busting your eardrum with a kiss. ‘Also, my entire family wants to meet you…’

‘What?? Already?’

‘Mhm. And here you were, thinking we weren’t even dating,’ he snickered. ‘Once I got you, I’m not letting you go.’

‘You are,’ you huffed. ‘Otherwise, you’re standing between me and food. And I got an appetite, you know?’

‘I know.’ His smile tickled your neck pleasantly. ‘It’s one of the many things I love about you.’

It was impossible to turn into mush faster than you did.

Masterlist

A/N: Okaaaay, we're done with another mini-series!!! Congrats to you and I haha Thank you for following this story till the end <3 And a huge thank you to all of my lovely readers that left their comments to each installment of the series! Ily 💕

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emberfrostlovesloki · 1 year

Text

Unwanted Attention [Hotch x Reader]

Prompt: Having to travel to the middle of nowhere Ohio for a serial killer was bad enough, add to the fact that the local LEOs are looking a little too hard at JJ, Emily, and _y/n_ was seriously testing Aaron’s resolve. Lots of protective Hotch here! This is another @imagining-in-the-margins inspired fic for her Meet Cute Writing Challenge. I’m using the dialogue prompt: “Watch where you’re going!” “… You ran into me?!”

Category: Angst/comfort - (mostly comfort I think).

Word Count: 5.8K

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence (serial killer - kills via strangulation but nothing explicit) unwanted physical touch (groping of the behind and pubic area) misogyny, sexism, the U.S. police, language, brief mention of intimacy.

A/N: Hi friends! I am very pleased with this one. I love writing Hotch with righteous anger. It just looks too damn good on him. I also love the duality of this man because one moment he is ready to bite someone’s head off and the next he only has eyes for you and he’s checking in and feeling guilty. You could read this story as a standalone or as a prequel to my story, Life can be Terrible, but At Least You're In It. (linked). I want to shout out @criminalskies for hyping me up while writing this. Last, if you enjoyed reading this, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! - Levi

List with all stories

y/n = your name

_f/c_ = favorite color

_l/n_ = your last name

_y/h/c_ = yuur hair color

Walnut Creek Ohio, who on the team had heard of it? Well apart from Spencer, because apparently he’d read a United States Atlas Map one night when his insomnia was bothering him, and he had retained all the information about nearly every tiny town that existed in the States. Spencer was rambling off facts about the tiny town stating, “There are 908 residents in the town as of 2017. It’s shocking that a serial killer would target such a small community where everyone has to know everyone else.” y/n, JJ, and Reid were all at the coffee station filling up cups. y/n pulled out her _f/c_ thermos. She always made sure that anyone who wanted coffee got to go first because her reusable metal container took about half the pot. y/n had finally wisened up after Emily and Spencer kept complaining about the coffee getting lukewarm, or worse, cold while sitting on the plane. Now her coffee stayed hot for hours if need be. She had bought the teammates that relied as heavily on caffeine as she did as Holiday or birthday gifts and the thermoses were stored away in one of her closets of her apartment, ready to be taken out and wrapped at the right moment. Spencer’s comment pulled her back to the present moments and she replied, “Nothing can stop a person going bad I guess. Not even a small town.” This stopped Spencer's comments on the location of the team's most recent case, and he shifted gears to talk about the psychological development of those raised in rural environments versus those raised in urban areas. y/n continued to listen to Spencer as he spoke, even if she couldn’t always keep up with his mile-a-minute commentary. She listened because Reid was a fount of knowledge and often a comment he made and maybe didn’t even remember would be helpful later on in the case. She also listened because sometimes the other members of the team didn’t when he spoke. It wasn’t that they didn’t think that what he was saying was important, it was just that they were trying to come up with their own thoughts and theories about the case. y/n was also guilty of tuning Reid out sometimes, but when she could listen to him, she did.

y/n had always been more of a listener than one to contribute to the conversation early on. y/n felt better about talking once she had more information and that normally wasn’t until the team arrived at the case's location or even saw the first crime scene. Once y/n had the bigger picture, she was ready and able to hope in and give her thoughts. Before that time came, she would listen and think about her prior knowledge. Although it might be less exciting than guessing and formulating theories, she found that often some basic information or past cases or criminals was useful when leads dropped or the case seemed to go cold. In her process, she was thinking about the future. As she had integrated into the team full-time at the beginning, Derek teased her for writing so much down in a notebook. She highlighted any relevant information the team stated or facts that seemed relevant. Morgan had joked in good humor but as the first few cases came to a close, the whole team slowly realized that she was approaching these cases from another angle, one that proved to be highly valuable at important points.

y/n settled next to Emily at her desk and pulled her go bag from underneath the space. The sound of Aaron’s door closing caught y/n’s attention. He was wearing that maroon tie she liked so much. She hadn’t told him that yet, it felt too trivial, but she really liked that tie on him. Aaron caught her eye for a moment and there was a small twinge in her chest before they quickly, discreetly looked away. Nobody knew that they were spending time together outside of work. They had to be discreet because it was mixing work and pleasure and in a place like the FBI, that didn’t just fly. y/n was sure Hotch knew everything about the rules and consequences of breaking those rules, but he hadn’t filled her in on those details. She had looked at the employee handbook but it was all legalese and it hurt her head. If she and Aaron did become more serious, and committed, she would ask him to interpret the confusing language for her. Thankfully they weren’t having a hard time keeping their work and private lives separate, yet.

Aaron felt the normal thrill of heading out to a new case. He considered the word, ‘thrill,’ thinking it wasn’t the perfect synonym for the arrival of yet another slew of murders, but it certainly wasn’t excitement either. Excitement meant something happy, something to look forward to. ‘Energized,’ his brain offered. Mentally Aaron nodded along, That would work for now. He had to be energized for this work. He wasn’t a young man anymore but there had to be a strength and calmness with him. He was the leader and even with Rossi being on the team for over a year, his agents still looked to him to make this all work. His eyes found y/n’s and there he found the look of thrill. This was still so new to her, even though she had been on the team for a while. He looked away as always, not giving into any desires that lingered when he was paying attention to his newest agent. He was grateful that y/n was professional and polite and had the utmost decorum even though outside of work they hadn’t been entirely professional. The thought of their last non-work meeting at her apartment and her heavy breathing and soft sounds on her lips, as he worked over her clothed body with his hands brought a momentatry flush to his face.

Hotch sobered as quickly as he had flushed as Dave came up beside him and said, “You ready for this?” Aaron looked over to his friend and bluntly replied, “As ready as possible, but it's still never easy.” Rossi nodded along as they both moved down the stairs and toward the parking lot. This line of work wasn’t easy. Aaron knew that every time his team left for a new case there was a chance that someone might get hurt, or even killed and no matter how good everyone was at their job, that possibility still worried him. y/n’s face popped up in his mind as he found his seat in the jet and he pushed away the thought. His relationship with her had shifted to something he wasn’t entirely sure he had under control. They hadn’t made anything official and hadn’t even said, “I love you,” yet. However, Hotch wasn’t a man who moved quickly, but as long as he and y/n had an open, honest conversation about where their feelings were headed, he wasn’t going to fight it. He had fought so many things, and people in his life that he didn’t have the desire to fight this too. Being around y/n felt good. It felt safe and he rarely got that in his life, so he was embracing it where he could. As JJ went over more of the facts and details regarding the case involving a serial killer wreaking havoc in the tiny town in Ohio, he shifted his full attention to what his media liaison was saying.

As the jet landed on the tiny airstrip, everyone got out and into the waiting SUVs. Aaron drove with Emily, Spencer, and JJ while Rossi took y/n and Derek. Spencer and Emily were discussing the need to work well with the law enforcement in the town as they were likely ingratiate into all aspects of the community. Meanwhile, JJ was preparing a statement for the media. In the other car, Derek turned from the front seat and asked, “So what are we thinking in terms of prior knowledge _y/n_?” y/n turned her gaze to Morgan’s and said, “Well strangulation is such a common signature that we’re going to have to look for something more specific to get traction here. The photos do look like this guy is strangling people from behind and the unsubs killing fit men someone who doesn't want to face what they’re really doing? Or it could be that they despise their victims so much they can’t stand to see them again, even while killing them?” Morgan nodded and elaborated on the idea that the killer might see these men as a competition of some kind. As having something the unsub lacked. This information allowed those in Rossi’s car to start to form a physical profile of the unsub. As the team made it to the small local police station, everyone got out of the parked cars and a man who appeared to be in his fifties who was balding badly came out to greet them.

Aaron stepped forward and extended his hand. The man took it and gave it a firm shake, saying, “I’m Officer Bronson. Thank you so much for you folks from coming out here.” Aaron nodded, replying, “I’m Agent, Hotchner and this is my team.” He indicated to the team, quickly introducing them. First, he gestured to JJ stating, “This is our media liaison, Jennifer Jareau.” JJ stepped forward and took the man’s slightly sweaty hand. Aaron moved through the rest of the team quickly, wanting to get the introductions over with and the real work started. He motioned to each of his agents saying, “This is David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Dr. Spencer Reid, _y/n_ _l/n_, and Emily Prentiss.” Each member nodded as Hotch said their name and Officer Bronson replied, Well welcome to Walnut Creek. I wish it was under happier circumstances. I’ll let you all get inside and out of this heat.” As the team moved into the small building, Aaron asked, “Is there a space where we can get organized and look at the evidence more easily?” Bronson nodded and led the team to a table at the back of a very small station and said, “Sorry it’s nothing fancy. I’ll have someone clean off the files and stuff off for you.” The man turned and semi-shouted, “Anderson, can you clear your junk off this table?” Anderson, a thirty-something-year-old moved around the team and got his things saying, “Sorry Chief.” Bronson looked to Aaron, almost for approval, and asked, “Will this do?” To which Hotch simply replied, “It’s fine.”

As the team settled a little y/n looked at JJ with a ‘Are you kidding me?’ expression and then looked at Anderson who was placing his numerous files on another table. JJ rolled her eyes in return. The fact that one of the officers had open files possibly containing sensitive or private data out on a table for anyone in the room to see displayed the station's lack of professionalism. The team worked up a preliminary profile and Aaron told Officer Bronson that they were ready to address his unit. Bronson called his team to the side of the room and as the officers sat down, Aaron moved forward saying, “Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you for your attention. My name is Aaron Hotchner and I’m the Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI. This is my team, and we’re here to coordinate with you to try and stop these killings as quickly as possible. If you have any questions please hold them to the end. We appreciate you working with us, and now I’ll let Derek Morgan deliver our preliminary profile to you.”

Aaron stepped aside to let Derek deliver the profile. Hotch had asked Morgan to deliver the profile because something about the officers sitting in front of him didn’t seem like they were convinced that they needed the team's help. Given the fact that Derek was the closest in age to many of the officers, and he could be just as intense as Aaron if he wanted, Aaron thought that the men would respect Morgan over someone like himself or Rossi. It helped that Morgan also looked more like the policemen now listening with unveiled trepidation about the profile. This was another part of the job that Aaron disliked. He not only had to profile the unsub but the law enforcement officers as well. His team and the local authorities had to work together due to bureaucratic rulings and sometimes the officers didn’t want the Bau's assistance. The idea that the team was ‘taking over’ or ‘standing on their turf’ often caused conflict. Aaron always tried to nip this conflict early. His team didn’t need to worry about that and quite frankly they all had better things to do. Aaron looked at the ten seated men, as he listened to Morgan. Most of the officers were looking at Derek, but one or two were consistently looking over at JJ, y/n, and Emily. Aaron clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to sigh. He could tell whatever conflict his team and this police unit were going to have would be an uphill battle.

Hotch noticed when the men he was working with paid a little too much attention to members of his team. Hotch couldn’t deny that y/n, JJ, and Emily were all beautiful, intelligent, and capable and that combination was attractive. However, that did not give these men a right to act lewdly or leer at them. As Derek wrapped up the profile, he fielded a few questions from the assembled crowd. With that, Chief Bronson dismissed his men. Aaron gathered the team and they broke into smaller units to look for any clues that might bring them closer to finding the unsub. Aaron, Spencer, and y/n were headed to the high school which was the scene of the latest killing. Rossi and Morgan were headed to the hospital to see the bodies of the victims to determine if there was more to the signature than just strangulation. Lastly, JJ and Emily were going to go to the press to provide a statement for the townspeople who were panicking and holding up the police phones making those who really needed help unable to get it.

In the evening as the team regrouped at the station, there was the kind of frantic energy they got once the case had really started. y/n had lots of thoughts and was ready to see what the rest of the team had discovered. She knew she wasn’t going to see much sleep tonight, so she moved to the break room where the coffee pots normally were in police stations. As she approached the room she began to overhear a conversation going on inside. The snippet she heard was, “So who are you picking, Blondie, Brunette, or _y/h/c_?” There was a laugh before the other man in the room began saying, “What about all three?” There was more laughter at this and as the unseen man began saying, “But if you’re really making me choose…” y/n walked quickly away before she could hear the answer. As she moved back to the team she thought, ‘These guys really have no standards.’ She felt slightly repulsed but did her best to ignore the feeling. As she stepped back to the table, and Aaron looked over at her, he could see that something was wrong. A few minutes later, when he was finished listening to Spencer’s geographic profile, Hotch moved to stand next to y/n. In a quiet volume, he asked, “Is everything okay?” y/n looked up at him. His expression had the smallest hint of worry, and she alleviated that fear by saying, “Yeah. It’s nothing.” Aaron nodded and said, “Okay. Tell me more about what you were saying to Derek about the point of impact, we might be able to get a height on the unsub with that information.” y/n nodded and jumped into the conversation. Aaron could tell that something was off about y/n, but he wouldn’t push it. He trusted her to handle things herself and if she needed to, he knew she would ask for help.

The night wore on and eventually, the team moved to the tiny hotel the town had. There were barely enough rooms to fit them all. The town was very cozy and picturesque in its quaintness. y/n thought about this as she drove Derek and Rossi to the hotel. She assumed it was a nice place to grow up in. To grow old in. y/n wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from, but she chalked it up to tiredness and the case. Because for seven men there would be no growing old here or anywhere. The sadness of that realization only made her want to solve this case more badly. There were always a lot of emotions tied to the cases they worked on, and to protect herself, she had to try and stay disconnected from the pain and hurt that the victims and the victims' families went through. But she couldn’t always hold back those emotions and now was one of those times. As everyone settled in for the night and said their goodnights, which just meant ‘I’ll be sitting up in bed reading over the same evidence as you one door down,’ Aaron walked over to y/n and said, “Goodnight, y/n.” His brief interaction with her at the precinct from earlier in the day flashed in his head. He didn’t like it when she looked upset. It made him feel nervous, so he asked, “You’d tell me if something was wrong? Wouldn’t you?” The question came out of left field and y/n blinked for a moment, not really knowing why Aaron was asking. At this point, she had sort of forgotten the rude comments being made by the officers, so she replied, “Of course I would Aaron.” At her response, Hotch infinitesimally relaxed and the two headed for the elevator together. Rossi had seen the interaction between them. He didn’t hear what they said, or that y/n had used Hotch’s first name, but he couldn't help but feel that something was there between the two agents. Perhaps it was the way Aaron leaned down a little bit to be in earshot, or the way y/n looked at his friend like nothing else around her mattered. David wouldn’t say anything yet, but he was sure he was going to start paying more attention to Aaron. Rossi wasn’t against whatever was happening between his coworkers. Aaron had had a rough few months, and he thought the man deserved some comfort.

In the morning most of the team was out hunting leads. Derek and y/n had stayed back for a minute because _y/n_ thought she had seen something new in the geographical profile. They would both head to the sight of the first body once she had looked at the board again. y/n was standing, looking at the map, engrossed in the pins Spencer had pushed into all the significant locations thus far. She just barely acknowledged when Morgan said he was going to use the men’s room. She also didn’t notice when one of the officers came up behind her. The man extended a hand and grabbed her ass giving it a squeeze. At the unwanted touch, y/n whipped around saying, “Hey!” The phrases echoed around the nearly empty office. She looked at the man, clocking his name on his badge, Monroe. There was a moment of silence before y/n incredulously said, “What was that?” Monroe gave a laugh and said, “Sorry, babe. I thought you were interested.” With that, the officer quickly left, as he noticed Derek coming back from the bathroom. Monroe nearly brushed shoulders with Morgan as they both tried to fit through the door at the same time.

When Derek got into the room, he noticed that something was off about y/n. She was standing still with a look of shock and disgust on her face. y/n tried to fix her facial features back to normal, but Morgan had seen and quickly strode into the room next to her. Derek looked her over quickly and asked, “y/n, what’s wrong?” y/n looked to the floor for a second, biting the inside of her cheek. She couldn’t really believe what had just happened. For a moment she thought about lying but knew that Morgan would keep asking until she gave in. She sighed and looked up at Morgan’s worried face, saying, “That guy just groped me.” At hearing this, Morgan turned on his heel, but Officer Monroe was halfway out the door with Officer Anderson. They were both laughing at some unheard joke. It took everything in Derek to not go over to the two men and give Monroe an unadulterated piece of his mind. However, he knew that wasn’t his place really. And he wanted to make sure y/n was okay. He turned back to _y/n_ and asked, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” y/n nodded her head no, saying, “No. I was just shocked, I guess.” Morgan nodded along and said, “It shouldn’t have happened, period. You need to tell Hotch.” y/n’s widened at the suggestion. It made sense of course. Issues like this were under his purview, but for some reason telling him about this made her hesitate. Before she could think about it too much Morgan repeated himself saying, “Hotch would want to know.” y/n put her palms up and said, “Fine, fine. I’ll tell him when he gets back.” Morgan gave her a look that made her say, “I promise I’ll tell him.” After a second of picturing that uncomfortable forthcoming conversation y/n said, “He’s gonna be so mad.” Derek could understand what y/n was saying but noted, “Maybe, but not at you, y/n.” There was another awkward silence before Derek finally said, “Do you need a few minutes, or would you like to head out?” Desperate for a distraction y/n, almost too quickly replied, “No. let’s go.”

At the supermarket where the first victim had been found. Morgan and y/n took notes and got the security footage. It seems like they had a real lead by finding the license plate of the van that had dumped the deceased man in the alleyway near the store's load bay. However, the footage was too grainy to make out. After finishing watching the video, y/n moved to call Garcia and see if she could enhance the video quality while Derek asked the security guard who had found the victim in the morning some questions. When she wrapped up her call with Garcia, y/n briefly slumped against the outside wall; closing her eyes. She tried to think about why talking to Hotch about what had happened with Monroe was bothering her so much. She knew that Derek was right. Hotch wouldn’t be mad at her, at all. Maybe it was a feeling of embarrassment? y/n’s logical side of her brain said that she didn’t need to be embarrassed. She hadn’t groped anyone, but the feeling persisted. Maybe because talking about the incident meant being vulnerable in front of Aaron which was all fine and good when they were alone in her apartment. But having to do so at work was entirely different. y/n let out a breath deciding to push all her feelings back for a moment. She would deal with it later. For now, she moved back inside the rendezvous with Morgan.

‘Later’ came as it always did. It was around five o’clock and the whole team was reconvening at the station. As the SUVs arrived one by one in the parking lot, everyone got out. y/n looked over the team. They all looked a little tired, but when didn’t they on a case? y/n felt the fatigue pull at her, but she knew she would find a second wind once she heard what everyone else had found out. She knew this unsub was here lurking in this little town, ready to kill again. She looked over to Aaron who was speaking to Emily about something. y/n desperately wanted coffee and she walked toward the front door as she got close, Officer Monroe walked out the door. His badge was off and it was clear that he was headed home for the day. y/n wondered if the man had a wife? Kids? The idea of it only made her more disgusted. As they neared each other she refused to make room for him on the sidewalk. She’d make him move aside for her. She wasn’t, however, going to look at him. y/n planted her gaze on the sidewalk. Much like Monroe’s unwanted touch that morning, she didn’t expect to walk into him full force. When she turned her face to the man he said, “Hey, watch where you’re going, sweetheart.” y/n could see that Monroe was actually enjoying this and she replied, “You ran into me!” Monroe smiled at seeing this woman like this -- uncomfortable. He had enjoyed the rush of her skin under his hands, and now he hoped for a repeat performance. Hardly thinking that there were others looking on, he quickly and forcefully placed a hand on her navel and then brushed downward. y/n stood stock still as this happened because she thought that it couldn’t possibly be happening. Not here in public, in broad daylight, in front of the whole team? It just couldn’t be happening.

Aaron was chatting with Emily about the profile as he looked over the team to see how they were doing. As he looked at Morgan, and Morgan returned his gaze with a facial expression that said, ‘We need to talk.’ Aaron gave the man a nod and Morgan looked over to y/n who was walking forward the precinct. Her shoulders seemed pulled tight under her shirt but in a way that hid that she was trying to hide her stress. He watched as she walked into one of the police officers from yesterday who had been overly enthused by y/n, Prentiss, and JJ’s presence. Aaron could barely hear the brief conversation between the two and as the word, “Sweetheart,” was thrown out, Aaron stiffened. And then it happened. He couldn’t fully see where or how far down the officer’s hand had landed because _y/n_ was blocking his view, but Aaron observed y/n stiffen, and that told him all he needed to know.

Before y/n could find her voice and tell Monroe to ‘get the fuck off of her,’ Aaron’s clear sharp voice addressed the officer like a whip. Like a wound aimed at the man who dared to touch y/n. Aaron was over to y/n in an instant. He placed a hand on her shoulder, firmly but gently pulling her frozen body back and behind him. Aaron towered over Monroe, and he felt his blood boil. Aaron let a harsh breath out and said, “If you value your job, and your pension you will get your hand Off. My. Agent.” Aaron highlighted each word that evinced his anger. Behind him, _y/n_ felt a wave of relief from being pulled out of that situation. Quickly Spencer and Emily were pulling y/n farther away from the scene, but she could distinctly hear Hotch say, “Get in your car and leave. Now.” Derek watched as Monroe slinked away to his car looking defeated and small. Spencer and Emily walked with y/n into the precinct, asking if she was okay, and the team as a whole huddled around her to make sure she was really alright. When she had reassured them, everyone except for Hotch moved away from y/n. Aaron placed a hand on her forearm and led her to a chair. She sat and let the exhaustion of the case, disgust at Monroe's actions, and the feeling of his hand on her body overwhelm her for a moment. A shiver ran through her. Aaron knelt down on one knee to be more on eye level with y/n. If his words before had meant to intimidate and accuse, his tone now was one of reassurance and comfort. Aaron spoke professionally but with a hint of something more that spoke to their relationship outside of work. He asked, “Be honest with me. Are you okay? Are you hurt or bruised?” Aaron’s voice helped still her thoughts and she assessed her body before saying softly, “I’m not in any pain.” She didn’t answer his first question because she didn’t particularly feel alright, but she knew she was safe now. Especially now that she was with Aaron. Aaron registered this and asked, “Has this happened before while we’ve been here?” y/n swallowed and replied, “Yes, this morning right after everyone headed out for the day.” Aaron gave her that look that said, “Elaborate please.” y/n bit her bottom lip, wondering how to phrase what had happened. Not finding any more polite or dignified terms, she said, “Morgan had stepped out and I was focusing on the bulletin board and he, um, came up behind me and grabbed my ass.” She could see the anger, the controlled rage fire through him again and she wanted to say something to reassure Aaron that she really was alright, even if she wasn’t. However, he stopped her as the Chief of Police entered the building. Aaron turned his head back to y/n and said, “Excuse me for a moment.” Then with a tone of reassurance, he said, “This conversation isn’t over.” Hotch stood and looked at Emily who understood that he was asking her to sit with _y/n_. Prentiss moved to sit next to y/n. When this was done, Aaron turned his attention to the officer who had just entered the building and said, “Chief Bronson, your office, now.” His intonation left no room for questions or delays and the older man nodded and walked into his cluttered office with Aaron on his heels. Once the door was closed Hotch turned and he felt the anger bubble up to the surface again. As Bronson asked, “What seems to be the problem?” The man sounded nervous.

From outside the glass-walled room, the team listened as their leader said, “One of your officers just assaulted a member of my team.” Bronson’s response was inaudible, but Hotch’s reply of, “What do I mean?” Could be heard clearly. At this, the team flinched, knowing that the man inside with Hotch was about to have his soul ripped from his body and handed back to him. Everyone listened as Aaron said, “What I mean is that just a few minutes ago, Officer Monroe had his hands on a member of my team in a private area. And that wasn’t the first time this has happened today.” Aaron took a steadying breath before continuing, “As much as I respect law enforcement and what you do, I’m highly concerned about what’s just happened. If someone under your authority thought they had the right to touch a federal agent, I fear what’s happening with normal residents of this town.” Bronson stumbled to find words and said, “Well I certainly don’t condone that behavior.” Aaron let out a harsh scoff, not truly believing the man saying, “Perhaps not, but that doesn’t change the fact that your officer felt entitled to do what he did. And I don’t think Monroe thought he was going to face any consequences, and I can only imagine that he assumed that because you’ve let him get away with behavior like this before.” After this, Hotch’s voice dropped lower so the team outside could no longer hear him. Derek said, “Well I think Officer Bronson has had his ‘Come to Jesus’ moment.’” That comment actually made y/n laugh and she felt a little better now that she could laugh at this whole situation. Hearing Aaron stand up for her like that made her feel warm inside in a comforted sort of way. Aaron finished unloading with the warning, “You’ll be receiving an ethics complaint from the Department of Justice as soon as I’m back in Quantico. You might consider cutting your losses before then.” With that, he got up and left the office.

Later that evening in y/n’s room, she and Aaron sat. She was sitting on the edge of the bed facing Aaron who was in the only chair in the lamplit space. This was to be a continuation of their conversation from before. y/n looked over at Hotch and saw how perturbed he looked. She felt a tug in her chest seeing him like this. He already had to deal with so much and now there was this. She started the conversation in an attempt to soothe this new hurt by saying, “Hotch, it really wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hurt me, it was just unexpected.” At her words, he dipped his head and said, “It never should have happened, y/n. He touched you without your consent twice, and I couldn’t prevent it.” y/n frowned and felt that Aaron had to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders with this job. She said, “It’s not your fault, Aaron. I know you see how they look at JJ, Em, and I.” Hotch lifted his head and placed a warm hand on her knee saying, “Of course I see, and it bothers me more than I can say. Having these men look at you is bad enough, but when one of them starts to act on those feelings, it's unconscionable.” y/n saw that she wasn’t going to make him feel any better, so instead she put her hand over his and gently rubbed over his knuckles with her thumb. She said, “I’m going to be okay Aaron. And if I’m not, I’ll let you know. Thank you for looking out for me.” Hotch let out a breath at her touch and words, simply replying, “Always, y/n. I’ll always be here.” He wanted to lean in and press his body to hers. To cover her from unwanted attention and hands. But there was still a case, and she looked tired, but he promised himself when this was solved that he would be spending a considerable amount of time either on his or her couch with y/n on his lap and his arms settled around her; as long as that was something she wanted of course.

The case wrapped up a few days later and the team headed home. On the plane ride back, y/n crashed on the couch facing Spencer. Emily, Rossi, and Morgan watched with a small amount of surprise, then a soft understanding as Hotch quietly took off his blazer and placed it over her curled, sleeping body. And when Rossi left his office and walked toward his car he stopped and made sure Aaron and y/n didn’t see him as Hotch held y/n and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As Hotch wrapped her in his arms, y/n’s hands moved to his chest, and after everything that had happened on top of the case, at least she knew that she was always safe with him.

#criminal minds #ssa aaron hotchner #aaron hotcher #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #fanfiction #reader insert #reader x hotch #angry hotch #protective hotch #derek morgan #emily prentiss #hotch blurb #comfort fic #hotch angst #i made this for you #spencer ried

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kairiscorner · 1 year

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nah, but imagine miles 1610 activating his invisibility power by accident when he's conflicted about his feelings towards you, like...

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

being spider man is both a blessing and a curse, but it becomes more of the latter when he starts disappearing into thin air whenever you're around, or at least just, quite literally, fading into the background. miles thought he could control his abilities as spider man already, he's been doing this job for a year and four months, that's 16 months. and yet, for some reason, his powers go out of whack when he's around you. like how last week, the minute he heard you call his name, he seemingly faded away into the sea of people in the hall–when really, he just turned invisible when he heard your resonant voice utter his name.

this had been happening ever since he got his powers, disappearing randomly when he sensed you approaching him or wanting to talk to him. you were none the wiser and were left thinking that maybe miles just ran off, or you mistook someone else for him.

miles didn't know why, even after all this time, he still goes invisible whenever you're around. he figured that after he took up the role of brooklyn's new spider man and beat a few criminals and bad guys, he'd be in control now of this fickle phenomenon. 'okay, just be cool.' miles reminded himself as he exhaled and looked at himself in the mirror he kept in his locker. 'be cool, miles, be cool...' he repeated as he grinned to himself, not out of pure confidence, but with nervousness and a pinch of anxiousness.

'i'm not gonna go invisible this time, i'll be cool about it, i'm not gonna let them get to me and be cool about it. cool, yeah, yeah i can be cool. gonna be cool like–' "hey miles!" you greeted him as he closed his locker door and yelped. you were confused as to why he yelped, but you figured he didn't realize you were there next to him the whole time. you turned around momentarily when one of your friends greeted you in the hall, and miles felt like he was being suffocated–he shouldn't make a sound so you wouldn't know he was there, but if he didn't respond, you'd think he flaked on you again.

you talked to miles about how you've been wondering if he would like to go with you to get some pizza, or go to an arcade, or see that one movie he's been raving about for a while now, with him desperately wanting to say yes to all of your offers right now, but not while he's like thin air right now!

'crap, please! for once, just... just turn back...!' miles begged himself as he pressed himself against his locker, with you still looking away from him, but your hand brushing against his. he breathed in deeply as he tried not to utter a single noise in response to your brief and soft touches against his fingers and hand.

"so... whaddya say miles, do you, um..." "i-i'd love to go with you." 'you dumbass, you're still invisible!' you were smiling widely and began to turn around to look at him, when miles suddenly exclaimed, "wait, look, a pelican!" "um, where?" you asked him as you looked around, confused. miles took in a deep breath and hummed the tune of his favorite song, yet, that couldn't relax him right now. nothing could relax him right now, except... except...

"miles, i think you're seeing things." you said as you turned around and faced him, with a big smile on his face as his hands was interlocked with yours. "i... i guess i am. how could a butterfly look like a pelican, right...?" he said awkwardly with a chuckle as you looked at him all flustered. "you're..." "holding your hand? yeah, sorry, i... should i stop...?" he asked with an equally flustered expression and a shaky voice. you squeezed his hand in yours and grinned up at him, causing his heartbeat to quicken just a little. "nah, i like this." you said as you walked with miles to your next class.

he's glad to finally have found a way to stop going invisible around you, though he had to admit, he never expected holding your hand would be the best way to relax him; but he could live with this.

tags !! @ii01vq @toneystank-3000 @fiannee @solecitoszn @luvstarrstruck @k4tsu3 @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf

#miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #earth 1610 miles morales x you #earth 1610 miles morales x y/n #miles morales fluff #miles 1610 #earth 1610 miles #atsv #atsv fluff #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv x you #atsv x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse fluff

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eternalbuckley · 1 year

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Insecurities. — evan buckley

SUMMARY: Reader gets insecure about their body after meeting Taylor Kelly. Buck is their to comfort them and tell them how beautiful they are.

word count: 1,166

genre: fluff, comfort | gn!reader, queer!reader, bipoc!reader and plus-size!reader friendly

warnings: a tiny bit of angst, heavy fluff, reader being insecure about their body, mention about weight lose, mention of comments from bullies, established relationship, use of pet names (babe, darling, my love), english is not my first language — if i forgot something, please let me know!

a/n: Thank you for this request anon, I'M SO SORRY tumblr deleted your request (i didn't know it would happen if you put in in your drafts.. guess i learned something new) but I still hope you'll find this story. I hope you had an amazing day as well! This topic is a very important one for me and I'm super sorry that it's so short but I still like the end result and I truly hope you'll like it. Might write more stories that are about comfort in the future soon! Enjoy reading 🫶

disclaimer: please do not repost or try and take ownership of my work or post this anywhere without my consent. do not translate my work and post it anywhere — i give you no permission to do that. i only post my stories here, so if you find my work anywhere else please let me know! reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated and welcomed!

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Why was she so beautiful? Or is? Why would he be with you? He could go back to her immediately. Or even back to anyone else he dated so far or could date.

'She is prettier than you anyway,' you kept asking yourself these questions while you were standing in front of your mirror and looking at your body.

She’s skinnier than you, why would he be with someone like you? Taylor Kelly seemed to be perfect and you thought you were not.

“She’s so gorgeous…” you mumbled to yourself with tears in your eyes.

You slowly started sobbing more and tried to ignore your insecure thoughts but they were too much. You didn’t like your body, being plus size was always something you knew most of society wouldn’t accept. ‘You have to be skinny to get men’s attention’, ‘Be pretty’, ‘Don’t be fat’, ‘If you’re plus size you’re ugly’ and so much more. It was exhausting, especially hearing comments like these in your teenage years. They always made you insecure and you ended up crying in your room many many times. You didn’t know what to do and nothing ever helped. You tried a lot of ways to lose weight and get skinnier but nothing worked. People made fun of you for that and since then you never really got over your insecurities.

How can be the world such a cruel place for something you can’t control?

You didn’t want to let stupid comments from those people ruin your life. But your insecurities came back after you recently met Taylor Kelly, one of your boyfriends, ex-girlfriends.

You knew what she looked like from seeing her on your TV but in reality, she was much more beautiful and skinnier than you. And that made you insecure. You didn’t exactly know what happened between her and Buck and why they broke up. But if you would only go after looks, she would win against you. At least that’s what you kept thinking about yourself.

Buck on the other hand was the happiest person on earth knowing he had you on his side. It has been almost two years since you officially got into a relationship and he has been the happiest since then. He always made sure to compliment you every single day. Whether it was in person or over texts but he never forgot. Not one day. He loved seeing you blushing over his compliments and genuinely being happy about his words. They let you feel better. He just didn’t know how insecure it made you meeting Taylor, not yet.

Buck came up behind you and kissed your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you and eventually noticed the tears in your eyes and your sobs.

“Babe? What’s wrong?” He turned you around and hugged you.

You snuggled up into him and hid your face in his chest without answering his question. You finally let go of your tears and cried in his arms. He whispered sweet nothings to you and rubbed your back to comfort you. He sat down with you on your shared bed and let you cry it all out. Buck always wanted to make sure that you feel loved and comfortable in his presence. But one thing that was really important to him, was to give you always the time you need. It didn’t matter for what reason. If it was just for you to get ready for a date or even giving you all the time to feel comfortable around him. He would always wait for you. Which wasn’t the easiest part for you as well but you trusted Buck with your life. You loved him and how happy he made you. How he made sure that you feel completely safe with him. You admired this side of him the most.

You eventually stopped sobbing after some time and slowly got calm. You still didn’t let go of him but he tried to ask you again about the reason for your current emotional state.

You sighed, your voice was still trembling. “Taylor Kelly…”

He furrowed his eyebrows and tried to look at you but you still hid your face in his chest. “What about her? Did she say something to you? Do I need to talk with her to leave you alone? Did she-“

“No, no,” you slightly chuckled about his protective side and turned your head to look at him. “I just- Have you seen her? She’s gorgeous, Buck. Look at how skinny she is compared to me. I’m just me and she? She’s Taylor Kelly. A beautiful and no plus-sized girl. Like… Why are you with me? You could have her or any other person that is skinnier than I am, Buck.”

Your insecurities were growing again while you were looking at your boyfriend. You saw his admiring eyes but speaking your insecurity out loud was hard. That’s probably a reason you spoke faster than usual. His eyes showed a hint of sadness, about your words. Hearing you talking about yourself in that way hurt him because he didn't want that you are hurting. Buck knew about your past and what your former classmates did and said to you, he thinks it's horrible and you would never deserve that. No one would. Bullying is one of the worst things someone can experience and seeing what this can do to people hurts him the most. Especially seeing his most important person (you) like that. Buck wished he could take away all your pain and turn it into something beautiful.

Buck kissed your forehead, “And I absolutely don’t care about this at all. I have the most beautiful person sitting in my arms right now. And let me tell you, every time I look at this person my heart swells so badly because of all the love my heart holds for that one special person. That is sitting in my arms by the way, in case I didn’t mention that already.” He took a breath. “And I love them with my entire life, no one can compare to them at all. They’re the definition of beauty.”

Tears build up in your eyes again and you kissed his jaw. Buck chuckled and nudged your nose.

“I would never want to be with Taylor or any other person just because they look different than you. I really don’t care about this, my love. I only care about you and want to spend the rest of my life with you. You’re the most beautiful and kind person I’ve ever seen and no one can ever compare to you. I love you and nothing can and will ever change that.”

He eventually softly kissed you on the lips which caused a smile on yours.

“I love you too, Buck. And I never want to lose you," your voice was still a bit weak.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. You won’t get rid of me that easily, darling.” He grinned at you and kissed your nose afterwards.

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lavendertales · 2 years

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Sweet lies: Chapter 1

pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader

summary: you return to your beloved hometown and you're set for a night out with the old gang. But the night isn't short of surprises.

word count: 3.4k

SERIES WARNINGS: former friends who were in love with each other, angst, mutual pining, tension, eventual smut, jealousy, infidelity, wrong choices, kind of arranged marriage too I guess.

A/N: I NO LONGER USE A TAGLIST! If you want to be updated on my works, click “Get notifications” on this blog! Comments & reblogs are forever appreciated 💕

gif: @uuuhshiny

series masterlist | AO3

The pleasant memories of this place are still vivid. Unchanged, unsoiled by time and the pain it carried along with it. But it’s not that easy to focus solely on the good. It never is.

There is also melancholy to be felt. Deep and sharp, soaring through you like a black veil of smoke. It’s intangible, yet it still aches. All the contradictory emotions that come with you simply standing there, gazing around, are still very much alive in your chest, as it’s the day when you left it all behind.

And you sure remember that day, clear as the sky above you, and cold as the crisp February air around you.

You were only eighteen. Still a child, barely beginning to trace out the steps on your life’s map, but it was your dream. You had the opportunity to fulfill it, and you could not miss it. You knew you’d never forgive yourself if you missed it.

After months of sending out applications, you finally received the answer you’ve been hoping for. You had been accepted into one of the most prestigious universities in the world. Cambridge University, full scholarship. Just like that, you embarked on the most wonderful adventure yet, chasing the dream of studying abroad.

But it wasn’t that easy. That much was clear.

You were, of course, going; nothing was going to break your way. You packed all of your things, mentally prepared yourself to move abroad indefinitely, perhaps for good. Yet, you found yourself utterly weakened by the idea that you had to say goodbye to your friends. It would be tough, but you knew they’d be completely supportive. You wouldn’t even have dreamt of anything else.

On your last dinner together as a group, you were joined by the Miller brothers, Will and Benny, Santiago, Rose, the only other girl amongst you, and Frankie. They all offered you their sincere congratulations and support, just as you had anticipated. Though they were saddened that you would no longer participate in their daily lives—at least not that actively—they promised to call and write to you, and to catch up as often as possible.

But each time you looked around the table and noticed Frankie’s pleading and soft glare, you began to question everything, from your decision to study abroad, to your own damn sanity.

The impact that man had on you was simply magnetic. Even now, thinking back on it, nothing ever came close to the rush you had being around him. It was a warm thrill, if that made sense. You were the best version of yourself when he was around, and before you knew it, you were hooked. Being around Frankie was the closest you’ve ever gotten to feeling love in its most flawless and pure state. He was soothing, loving and warm, everything you forgot you could be. You thought that even if you were to spend every second of every day with him, it would still not be enough. There was just something between you two that boiled right underneath the surface, simmered in unbearable heat. Unspoken, begging to be released in one way or the other. It never materialized, though. Neither of you addressed it, for one reason or the other, so you left.

There were times when you swore you had imagined that Frankie could ever reciprocate your feelings. You managed to convince yourself that it was all in your head, that your mind had fabricated what your heart desired in order to cope with the fear of rejection and loss. And you survived on that knowledge. Knowing that it was unrequited love made it easier for you to survive abroad all those years.

Ten of them, to be more precise. Ten years you’ve been gone. Well, not gone gone, but it sure felt bizarre to return after so long.

Few things have changed in town: new shops, new infrastructure, but that’s about it. Nothing really palpable to you. You can’t help but look around though while you wait for Santiago to pick you up. The people seem the same, like you’re the only one who’s aged in the past decade. You wonder how many of those people walking by had dreams, and you wonder whether they followed them or had to push them aside in survival’s favor.

Tonight, you’re meeting the old party for dinner in the same restaurant you met ten years ago. With a few exceptions, of course: Rose can’t make it, but promised to make it up to you in the following days and the Millers are bringing their girlfriends. Santiago remains single from what you know, and you couldn’t bear thinking too much about Frankie, so you were running on sheer curiosity and a “we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it” basis.

But your subconscious runs wild with questions and scenarios: is he married? Is he bringing his kids? Is he single? Is he gay now? Anything feels possible at this very moment, when all you know is fear and doubt.

“One thing’s for sure, life abroad agrees with you.”

The voice is unmistakable; you turn, being greeted by Santiago’s bright smile and open arms. You practically sink into the embrace, a lovely sensation of friendliness and home nearly overwhelming you. He hugs you tightly, sincerely, rocking you a little to the left and to the right, then he lets you go.

“You look absolutely beautiful,” he continues, eyeing you up and down.

“Save something for dinner, Santi, damn.”

“Oh, speaking of that. Something you should know.”

You don’t like his tone when he announces that; your heart drops in your stomach. Don’t think it, don’t think it, don’t think it…

“Frankie isn’t coming,” he says, and you can’t help but feel relieved in the slightest. “Something about building… something. I don’t know, honestly. Might be furniture. I think.”

“Not really surprising, but good to know.”

Santiago looks at you in a way that’s meant to make you feel sorry for what you said.

But you’re not.

“Come on. It’s been ten years.”

“I am over it, Santi, I promise. But I do think I at least get to be snarky.”

“You know what, tonight is about you. Go for it. Shall we?”

You nod, getting in the car, all while entertaining Santiago with stories from your most recent whereabouts.

But there’s a warzone happening in the back of your mind. That part of your brain can only reminisce the cruel way you and Frankie ceased to exist as friends.

You loved him. That much was true and as real as it could be. But you loved him as a friend first. He had been the most positive influence in your life, so much so that you managed to quit smoking and get straight A’s on your SATs. You spent most of your time together in the senior year of high school talking, laughing, sharing music and stories, and simply caring for each other.

Then one day, it all stopped.

He had kept in touch with you for a little while after you moved away, but conversations grew thinner and rarer, and you could tell something was wrong. He insisted that everything was fine, and a week later, he vanished from your life altogether like he was never there to begin with. No phone calls, no texts, no emails, nothing. He was gone, without ever saying goodbye.

You even thought of him as being dead. It was infinitely easier than lying awake at night trying to understand what could have been done differently, what went wrong and what could you have done to prevent the rupture from happening. Cruel and bizarre, yes, but easier to cope with.

Because losing your dearest friend wasn’t something eighteen year-old you knew how to process.

Whenever you spoke with any of the guys, you asked not to be told about Frankie other than answering the question “Is he alive and well”. The answer was always yes. He was alive and well, and that made you happy for him, but in return it made you feel bitter and alone.

That was the extent of the contact you kept with Frankie. The guys respected your wish as well and never went into details about him, so you had no clue what his life looked like now.

“Now that you moved back in town and the group is essentially back together, are you just never gonna see or talk to Frankie again?”

Santiago’s question is blunt and to the point, but it’s only natural he be curious about it. Everyone in your little party knew about your feelings for Frankie, and they all knew how devastated you were when he subtracted himself from your life.

“I don’t know,” you reply honestly. “I could.”

“Can you though? I mean, you’re bound to run into each other at some point.”

“I—I don’t know, Santi, okay? I obviously miss him, I think I might miss him forever, actually, but at the same time it’s…”

“Yeah.”

He quickly glances over at you, offering a trademark Santiago Garcia compassionate look that, oddly enough, calms you down a little.

“It’s hard,” you finish saying, heart back in your throat.

“I know. But look, neither of us is forcing you to do anything. We’re just glad to have you back and we hope things can be okay between us all.”

“I sincerely hope so too.”

“And Frankie’s part of our lives whether you like it or not, so you either gotta get over it fast and accept that, or things will be very awkward.”

“I did move on.”

“Tell that to yourself.”

You feel some anger to his remark, though not the primal kind that got you in trouble.

“It’s hard to just erase someone out of your life, someone you cared for so fucking much,” you blurt out. “Obviously not to him, he did it perfectly, but I can’t do it so easily. It’s been ten years and it still hurts to think about it.”

“If you think it’s been easy for him too, like it was a light decision to take, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

You exhale loudly, hoping that will be a good reveal of your annoyance with the situation. Luckily, Santiago is great at picking up cues, so it does not require any more effort on your part.

“I’m not saying what he did was smart,” he tells you, his voice soft and filled with regret. “Personally, I think it was idiotic. But one thing I do know, is that he was in a lot of pain for a long time after it. Which means it wasn’t easy to do.”

You make a grimace, feeling surprisingly at peace hearing that. “Good,” you say, and even you recognize how mean you sound right now. “Why should I be the only one miserable?”

Santiago chuckles, nodding his head as if to say “you two idiots are killing me”. You know that look. You’ve seen it plenty of times before. You’ve even been on the receiving end of it a few times, too.

“But things really started to pick up for him,” Santiago continued. “In the past few years, he’s really—“

“Can we not talk about him or us or anything remotely related to that tonight? I just want to have a nice dinner with you guys and not think about him. Not yet. That’s… tomorrow’s problem.”

“Alright, sure thing.”

And true to his words, he didn’t speak another word about Frankie, nor did he even mention his name. Truthfully, even that is more than capable of awakening all the feelings you had fought so long and hard to bury deep within. You know it’s only a matter of time until you’d inevitably run into Frankie again, but that is an issue for tomorrow. You don’t have to mentally prepare for it until tomorrow.

All you want to do is relax, have a nice dinner with your friends and tell yourself that you are home.

The moment you walk through the restaurant’s door, you see a fairly big table on the right, and the first figure you notice is Will’s. Being the tallest of the group, it’s virtually impossible not to spot him in crowds. He’s always played the role of the mentor among you, the quiet, yet wise one that you all came to for advice at some point in time.

He’s the first one to remark you, too, and he smiles instantly, standing up to greet you. Then off goes Benny with his exuberant personality, excited like a loyal dog reunited with a friend. They both reach to hug you, patting your back and squeezing you gently into their arms.

“Long time, no see!” Benny exclaims. “And it is quite the sight, might I add.”

“First Santi, now you… I’m on fire tonight, huh?” you laugh.

“Here, have a seat,” Will encourages you, pulling a chair for you.

“Thanks.”

“This is Mia, my girlfriend.”

The girl named Mia extends a hand to you, smiling politely at you as you introduce yourself. She’s a beauty indeed; luscious, brown curls cascading down her bare shoulders, a red dress fitting her body, and when she smiles at Will, her eyes sparkle in a truly mesmerizing way. She even seems to be on the quieter side, which matches Will’s persona to a T.

“And this is Emily, my hot-shot girlfriend,” Benny says.

The other girl named Emily shakes your hand and smiles all the same. She’s just as beautiful as Mia: red hair, green eyes, stunning dress and lips so full even you’d spend all day kissing them.

“We’ve heard so much about you,” Mia says. “The guys sung your praises a lot.”

“You really shouldn’t talk so much about other girls, you guys,” you tell them, menu in hand. “Especially not when your girlfriends could be models.”

Both girls giggle, but it’s not one of those fake laughs that you can spot from a mile away. They seem genuinely flattered and nice.

“Em did model for a while a few years back,” Benny gloats, wrapping his arm around her.

“Benny, come on.”

“What? I can’t brag about my incredibly sexy girlfriend?”

“You are, we can all hear you,” Santiago says under his breath, his vulture eyes locked on the menu.

Will chuckles and moves his glare on you.

“We heard you studied at Cambridge, is that right?” Mia asks you.

“Yes. I was lucky enough to get a full scholarship there for the Arts program.”

“Oh, what did you study?”

“Business Management.”

“So you know she really means business.”

Everyone giggles at Benny’s words and gets ready to order. Meanwhile, Will’s gaze never leaves your figure. He’s on your left, one seat over Santiago, so he gets a pretty good view at your creased brow.

“Did Pope tell you?” he asks suddenly, and you realize seconds later he’s addressing you.

“Tell me what?”

“About—Frankie.”

He falters, like the name is some forbidden cuss word neither is supposed to say.

“Oh. Yeah, he—he did mention that he couldn’t make it tonight.”

Will makes a grimace, exchanging a look with Santiago that makes you feel left out of whatever little secret they got going on. But then you begin to suspect maybe that’s not what Will meant at all.

You’re in no mood to discuss anything Frankie-related tonight, so you let it slide.

“Yeah, he couldn’t make it tonight,” Benny agrees. “Too bad. It would’ve been nice to have all of us here.”

“Mhm.”

You add nothing else after the hum, and the guys don’t ask anything else, much to the girls’ curiosity. But when the waiter asks for your order, you all place it without second thoughts.

Although you highly doubt you’ve heard the last about Frankie this evening.

“How long have you and the bros been together, ladies?” you ask.

“Well, Benny and I just had our one year anniversary a couple of weeks ago, and Will and Mia have been together for… what, five months?”

Will nods, stroking Mia’s hand. “Six month anniversary coming up soon,” Mia gushes. “What about you and Santi?”

You and Santiago look at each other in somewhat of a panic, then you both start to laugh, just as your drinks are being brought before you.

“We’re not together,” you laugh. “Nope. Not a chance. No. No, no, no.”

“Four no’s? Really?” Santiago asks. “Punch me in the face, it’ll hurt less.”

You pat him gently on the arm, which steals a smile from him.

“I’m sorry,” Mia apologizes. “I heard about you and the other guy from the group and I assumed—“

“No, no.”

“That’s—not me.”

Silence intervenes again, with Benny clearing his throat out loud, thus capturing everyone’s attention as he leans in to whisper to Mia, “No, that wasn’t Santiago, that was… Frankie.”

“Oh, that’s right, Frankie!”

“Okay, let’s clear the air. I had a fallout with Frankie ten years ago, and we haven’t spoken since, but that’s about it. No need to walk on eggshells around me, no need to act like his name is some ancient-long curse that cannot be spoken out loud. It’s okay.”

“Dully noted,” Benny says, sipping from his beer. “So what was his excuse for tonight?”

Everyone turns to Santiago, expecting an answer, with the exception of you. You slowly nurse your wine, finding the table cloth much more interesting than pretending to care about that man.

Except you still do, and it’s tearing you inside in ways you could never even describe.

“Something about building furniture, I guess,” Santiago finally replies. “He’s been quite into remodeling lately.”

“Oh, cause of—“

“Benny.”

Will’s voice is firm, yet low and menacing enough for his little brother to receive the message. But of course, that only captures your curiosity and interest alike, raising more questions rather than silencing them.

“Because of what?”

“We haven’t told him you’re back in town yet,” Will announces, seemingly taking it upon himself to be the spokesperson. “We weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him either.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “I know this is a bit awkward and uncomfortable, but… it’ll be fine.”

“Doubt it,” Benny whispers strictly to Emily, who playfully slaps his shoulder.

“We’re gonna run into each other at some point and we’re gonna have to talk. But until then, I just want to celebrate my return with my dearest friends.”

“Here, here!”

The sound of glasses clinking fills the salon and you all emerge into conversations over dinner. You immediately bond with the girls, discovering more and more about them, and thinking how perfect they are for their respective partners. Then again, either of the Miller brothers would be a great catch.

“So what really brings you back here?” Mia asks you after a while.

“I scored a position as editor at a publication in town. I’ve done business and everything related to it, but I’ve always loved writing, so when this came up… I couldn’t pass it. Especially since it’s in my hometown.”

“I think it’s so great you’re back,” Emily says with a fond smile. “Your whole life is here, your family and friends… you’re living your dream, basically!”

“Almost, yes.”

You don’t tell them how you’re always going to miss a piece of yourself from this very town.

You don’t tell them how much you missed and loathed this place at the same time.

You don’t tell them how you’ve felt incomplete for years, bruised and deceived, unfairly so.

Instead, you finish your meal and your wine and excuse yourself to go to the restroom, trying to organize your thoughts and not let them spiral out of control.

But that takes a turn for the worst.

You freeze on your way to the restroom, in the middle of the restaurant. The face you’re met with is unmistakable, both that of a ghost and of a friend. You can practically feel the color draining from your face and your limbs going cold. You can’t move; you feel frozen in space and time, like there is nothing but the two of you and like no time has passed, but also like an eternity did. Every contradictory sensation you could possibly fathom, it’s right there in your body, swallowing you whole.

Then, a whisper of your name brings you back to earth. Completely shook, you can only murmur one word. The one word you’ve tried so hard to forget.

“Frankie.”

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales fic #frankie morales angst #francisco morales #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales x you #francisco morales fanfiction #francisco morales fic #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fic #sweet lies series

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wsdanon · 5 months

Note

hmmm mike and felps bonding perhaps? For wip game?

okay you know what you can have my whole wip for this fic \o/! i'll put it under the cut--it's supposed to end with mike helping felps dye his hair and them talking about things other than just pac but pac is a focal point of this first bit here

(context is: this is a few years after fuga where they've met up again and are on good terms, but it's maybe still a little shaky)

since this is a solid amount of words despite being a wip, reblogs are appreciated \o/

"Would you keep a secret from Pac for me?" Felps asks.

"No." Mike doesn't even need to think about it. "Probably not."

"Hm. Okay." Felps nods to himself, like this is what he expected. "Would you… not tell him something for me, then?"

This makes Mike set down what he was messing with. He turns to Felps. Who looks nervous.

"What do you mean?"

"Like… if he doesn't ask, you don't tell?"

Mike does have to think about this one. He draws his consideration away from where his and Pac's thoughts usually mingle, and Pac sends him a curious feeling, but doesn't prod.

"Sure." He settles on, turning back to his project. "But keep in mind, he'll probably ask."

"Okay."

Felps doesn't say anything else. But he doesn't leave, either. Mike looks up at him again.

"So… were you going to tell me something?" He prods, and Felps sighs defeatedly.

"Yeah, okay." Another sigh. "I really like Pac."

"Well, I'd hope so." Mike frowns. "I thought we were all friends at this point."

"We are." Felps confirms, as he rests his chin on his palm--his elbow propped up on the table. And his expression is troubled, but there's something else to it--a combination Mike sees on Pac frequently. Things click into place. "But I really like Pac."

"Oh, you mean romantically?"

"Yeah." Felps shifts his hand in an attempt to cover his face, but his blush still shines through. Mostly because Mike is looking for it. "I think so."

"Huh. You know, I thought you and Cell were--" Mike cuts himself off as the embarrassment on Felps' face quickly disappears and gives way to disinterested surprise. His eyebrows raise, while his hand shifts again--falling into a thoughtful position. Mike continues, "Well, I guess I'm the last person who should be making those kinds of assumptions, huh?"

"We are kind of like you and Pac." Felps agrees.

But he doesn't sound committed to the idea, so Mike silently disagrees. Besides, no one can be like him and Pac--they literally share a brain.

"So, you and Cell aren't dating, and you like Pac romantically." Mike recaps.

"I think so?"

The question in his response has Mike briefly looking down at his project in despair. He's not getting this done any time soon.

Pac prods at him, confused, and Mike waves him off. He wants to at least try to honour Felps' request, and that means he can't have Pac stumbling across his thoughts right now in an attempt to see if he's okay.

"Why did you come to me for this?" Mike asks. "I'm shit with romance."

"And you think Cell would be better?"

"Okay, good point." Then he frowns. "Wait, hold on. Wasn't Cell exes with some of the guys in prison? JV and Guaxinim, at least, right?"

"Mike," Felps says with a tone that he's about to say something obvious, "I'm not going to tell Cell I'm into his ex."

"Pac and Cell aren't…" He trails off. Even with the link between them now, Mike isn't sure what Pac and Cell are, let alone what they aren't. Which is mostly because their relationship is so confusing Pac himself isn't even sure. "Whatever, that's not the point. I just don't know what you expect me to do."

"Nothing." Felps picks at the peeling paint on the table absently. "I just wanted to tell someone."

Felps seems kind of in despair, too, right now. So, Mike forgives him for interrupting his workflow, and attempts to throw him a bone.

"Look, I'll try and keep this from getting to Pac." Mike offers. "But, like…" He taps at his head.

"Yeah, I get it." Felps smiles at him. "Thanks."

There's a high chance that Felps becomes Pac's crush for the month, and Mike can do a bit of matchmaking. Or, equally as likely, someone else will catch Felps' eye and it won't matter anymore. Either way, Mike would say he only has a month tops to keep his promise.

Which is… manageable. Maybe. He doesn't try to keep things from Pac often.

"If Pac started dating me… would I be dating you, too?" Felps asks, drawing little lines with his finger on the table to demonstrate the connection.

And the honest answer is yeah, probably. For all intents and purposes. But people don't always really like that answer.

"I mean… kinda? If you're okay with that?" Mike shrugs. "I don't know, man, it wouldn't be the same thing."

"That sounds cool."

And he sounds genuine. Mike goes back to his project, but he doesn't get too into it in case Felps wants to continue the conversation.

"Can I paint your nails?" Felps asks.

And, okay, not what he was expecting.

"I'm kind of doing something." Mike says, gesturing to the project. "Maybe, uh… later?"

"I have green."

Felps pulls out a bottle of nail polish, and sets it on the table between them. Mike stares at it. It is indeed green--a nice bright green.

"Okay, sure."

"Nice!"

Mike moves his project to the side, and holds his hands out. Felps' hands are warm. The nail polish isn't.

He's quick in his movements, but focused fully on his task. Mike lets his fingers be moved for better angles, and shakes his hand to dry it when Felps starts on the other.

"So, what are you making?" Felps asks.

"Something to help with the mobility for Pac's prosthesis." He wants to gesture around and explain the mechanics, but he doesn't think Felps would get it, and his nail polish is still too wet for him to feel comfortable touching things. "Once I get this right, I'll probably try to open up shop for custom orders. Then hopefully we won't need to rob banks for more money."

"Aw." Felps pouts. "But robbing banks is fun."

"Weren't you a cop?"

"I was a prison guard." Felps shrugs. "And that was just so I could hang out with Cell after he got arrested."

Mike laughs.

"And then he killed you."

Felps' hands twitch like a mostly contained flinch.

"It wasn't my favourite time with him, no."

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

"It wasn't my favourite time with him, either."

This time Felps laughs.

"No, I guess not."

He finishes up the last nail, and packs the polish away. Mike kind of misses the casual intimacy of it, but shakes his hands out to try and dry the nail polish quicker.

"You know, Pac falls for people pretty easily." Mike says. "If you flirt with him, he'll probably reciprocate."

"Oh, thank you, but I don't really mind." Felps shrugs. "I just like being around him."

"Me too."

And this is where I got to \o/ I've had this written up for ages, but I've never had time and motivation to go back and finish it oops. hope you enjoyed!

#wsd/f.ics #wsd/w.ips #wsd/a.non #wsd/a.sks

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elixirfromthestars · 1 year

Text

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I

You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back.

Eventually, you would have to face him.

Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope.

You didn’t dare do either.

Instead, you typed something short and to the point. A quick, “ I did. Goodnight, Bucky.”

You haven’t had a good night’s sleep since.

“ Y/n, where are you? I was supposed to be having lunch with Steve today,” Natasha’s voice was suddenly coming from your living room. “ You didn’t answer my calls again. What is going on?” You rose from your bed and walked in the direction of her voice, slightly thinking you were sleep-deprived to the point of hearing things. You were wrong when you were met with her questioning eyes.

“ Well, you look terrible.”

If this were anyone else, and not your best friend of over a decade, you would have felt embarrassed at the state of not only yourself but your apartment as well. There were used dishes littering your coffee table and clothing items spread across the floor. As for your state, it was Wednesday and the last time you showered was before the date with Bucky. Since then, you had been wearing a blue set of satin pajamas that now held strains of evidence of all the takeout you had been eating since. You didn’t need a mirror to see the tragic state of your hair.

“ I told you, I’m sick. You shouldn’t have come. I’m going to get you sick too,” you tried to sound as convincing as possible, throwing in a couple of fake coughs and straining your voice to make it sound hoarse. You cursed yourself from the past in your head for giving Natasha a key to your apartment.

“ You almost had me there, Y/n. Unfortunately, for you, the squad showed up at our office to brief us on a new case, and guess who was staring at your empty desk the entire time like a wounded puppy?” You couldn't meet her eyes when she spoke and instead plopped yourself down on your couch. Natasha stood on the other side of it, staring at you with her arms crossed.

“ I think I messed up, Nat.”

“ You think? He practically ran out of the room once the debriefing was over. What the hell happened on Saturday?” She made her way over to you, sitting on the couch across from you. She was waiting for an answer, but it felt as though your throat was closing up.

It’s not that you didn’t want to tell her. It’s more like you physically couldn’t. As if some invisible force was preventing you from speaking aloud the thoughts that had been driving you crazy these past few days. They would surely cement themselves into reality if someone, but yourself, heard them.

Thankfully, this was Natasha sitting across from you. She knows you better than anyone else and knows exactly how to handle you in situations like this. You of course know her just as well, so you were not surprised when she called off of work and grabbed a bottle of wine with a pair of glasses, from your cupboard, for the two of you.

“ There’s no way I’m leaving before getting to the bottom of this.”

After a few sips, the words started to pour out of you faster than Natasha could pour more wine into your glass. Any hindrance or hesitation—gone like that—with a bit of liquid courage in your system. Natasha didn’t say a word nor did she interrupt you at any point. She let you speak until you had spilled everything. You even handed her your phone so she could read the messages Bucky had sent—the ones you didn’t have the courage to read yourself. She scrolled through them, taking a sip of her wine here and there. She was uncharacteristically quiet, and you found yourself biting the inside of your cheek in anticipation. Whenever you gossiped over your usual bad dates she would be filling the silence with laughter and snarky comments. However, this was not just another date. This was a date with Bucky. This means that, as you feared, everything was different.

“ Y/n, I say this with all the love and respect I have for you, but what the fuck did you do?” She raised her voice slightly, confusion etched into her face. You chugged the rest of the wine in your glass to prepare yourself for the conversion you were about to have.

“ Look, I know what it looks like, but I have a good reason.”

“ What it looks like to me is that for months you’ve been complaining about bad dates and sucky men, only to finally go on a good date with a man you clearly have feelings for, and you go and mess it up?”

“ Bucky is not just any guy, Nat. It’s Bucky as in our friend Bucky, who happens to also be our coworker. If we end up being something more to each other and then we break up, it’ll mess up the friendship all of us have. I can’t risk that. I can’t ask you, Sam, or Steve to pick sides when something like that happens. It’s better off this way,” you argued, gripping the wine glass a little too tightly, trying to regain control of your emotions. You didn’t have the energy to cry in front of Natasha while trying to plead your case.

Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in.

“ Even if that’s true, it can’t happen. Too much would change and it would complicate things.”

“ Things always change and you’re the one making things complicated. Y/n, please look at me,” you turned to her, meeting her gaze, “ I don’t care what Prosecutor L/n wants or thinks is right. The only thing that matters is what Y/n wants. This job can’t become our entire life, we are allowed to live outside of it. Let yourself fall in love and be happy.” Her words tugged at your chest as you took her advice into consideration. Nevertheless, your fear of what could happen could not be swayed.

“ It’s not easy to separate that part of my life. Being a prosecutor is a part of me—a huge part of me. I can’t just set that aside. Nat, I know you mean well, but I think things are better the way they are now. I’ll go back to work tomorrow. I promise things will continue as they always have,” you put your wine glass down on the coffee table, an ill feeling bubbling within your stomach. Natasha let out a defeated sigh, “If that’s what you really want, then I’ll respect that. But I have to tell you that whatever it is you're really scared of, it’s making you let go of possibly one of the best things that could have ever happened to you.” This time her words made your heart sink in disappointment knowing what you were giving up.

She didn’t stay long after that. You chatted about work, the new case, and other frivolous things. Your mind, however, was elsewhere the entire time. Like a broken record, it repeated her words and Bucky’s over and over, almost as if to torture you. When she left, you ended up cleaning your entire apartment to distract yourself from your thoughts. It had never been so spotless.

The next day, you went to work to prove to Natasha, and to yourself, that everything was okay. Nothing had to change and everyone could operate as usual. What you didn’t expect was to be called into the Brooklyn precinct on your first day back. You managed to skim through a few files on your way there to get caught up on the case. Which thankfully, hadn’t really started until today.

You took a deep breath stepping out of the precinct elevator. Walking down the hallway, you were mere moments away from seeing Bucky again and your nerves were uncontrollable. You told yourself it was best to act professionally towards him, but you knew that was easier said than done.

As soon as you walked through the precinct entrance, your eyes scanned the entire room. Your heart skipped a beat when you noticed Bucky in the conference area, looking over evidence with Detective Maria Hill and Detective Sharon Carter. His back was facing you, so he hadn’t noticed you yet. On the other side of the room, Steve was with Sam, having a conversation with what looked like to be the suspect’s attorney. Now you understood why you were called in.

“ Counselor Murdock, back to lose another case?” You asked teasingly. He smiled, a slight chuckle escaping him, “ Not this time. Although, if this goes to court I’m happy it's you prosecuting this case. You’re the only prosecutor whose voice I like hearing throughout the trial. If anything I’m looking forward to it.” Murdock gave you a cheeky grin, being flirtatious as always. You laughed it off, used to him being this way since your law school days.

“ I think it’s time we move things along. Have you spoken to your client yet?”

“ Not yet. I arrived a few moments before you did.”

“ Well then, you should go inside and speak to him. The detectives will join you momentarily. I hope we can have full cooperation.”

“ No promises,” he shrugged, a smug look on his face. Once he entered the interrogation room you turned to Steve and Sam, “ You shouldn’t leave them in there too long before they decide not to cooperate. What do we have on the suspect?”

“ Not much. The suspect, Quentin Beck, was the victim's boyfriend and the last person to see her alive. Her body was found under a bridge not too far from their shared apartment. Initially, she was a Jane Doe found with no possessions on her until we ran her fingerprints and found she was arrested prior for a misdemeanor. He says she went out with her friends and never came home. He filed a police report a week ago,” Sam explained.

“ Sounds like there’s not much to go on. Getting a warrant for the apartment wouldn’t be hard, but the evidence would be too circumstantial. She lives there so, of course, her DNA would be everywhere,” your brain went into prosecutor mode, sifting through mental files of any possible charges.

“ Could you get us a warrant for his car? If he transported the body there has to be some evidence left inside. This guy thinks he’s clever. Never seen someone so calm and indifferent to the death of their loved one. I got a feeling he killed her,” Sam continued.

You shook your head,“ Unfortunately, I need something more than just feelings to convict. I don’t think we have enough evidence to get a judge to sign off on a warrant. You’d have to get him to talk more and spill something. If she went out with her friends then maybe they know something. You can question their neighbors or tenant to see if there were any prior domestic disturbances, but for now, that’s all. We need more to go on than pure speculation.”

“ Carter, Barnes, Hill!” Steve called the rest of the squad over and you tensed up knowing he was approaching. It was easy to stay focused on the job when he wasn’t close. You couldn’t look at him and instead directed your attention to the suspect inside the interrogation room. He looked like the average white male, sort of handsome if you squinted hard enough. However, if this job had taught you anything, looks can be deceiving.

“ Hill, I want you in the interrogation room with me. You’re best with the clever ones. Wilson, Carter, go back to the apartment complex and question the tenant, the neighbors they have nearby, and even the one directly underneath their apartment. Maybe they can tell us if they were as happy as a couple as he said they were. Barnes, I need you to investigate her social media and see if any of her friends posted this alleged outing. Find a way to contact them and ask them what they know. Counselor, I would like it if you stayed to watch over the interrogation. You know how to handle Murdock better than any of us,” Steve turned to you once he was done giving his orders. You faced him, getting a glimpse of Bucky from the corner of your eye. You felt his stare on you the entire time Steve was talking.

“ Of course,” your response was brief, and the tone of your voice was weak. Bucky’s intense stare was clouding your senses. The room suddenly felt smaller, and you wanted to ask Steve who had cranked up the heat.

Steve shot Bucky a quick glance before directing his attention back to you. By the look on his face, you knew he was putting two and two together. All of your friends here were detectives. You wouldn’t put it past them to figure it out. Your clothes suddenly felt two sizes too small.

“ Okay, everyone knows what they have to do. We’ll regroup around noon. If you end up with any new leads you want to pursue, call in and let me know first,” Steve gave the last of his instructions, sending everyone off. It took him a second, but Bucky walked away to his desk, which was thankfully the furthest from you. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. Nothings changed. You repeated these words over and over in your head, to remind yourself—no, to convince yourself they were true. Which was hard when Bucky was staring holes into the back of your head. You could see him vaguely behind you through the reflective surface of the two-way mirror. It took everything within you not to turn around and lock eyes with him.

After watching the interrogation for about forty minutes, you ended up with the same conclusion as Sam. Quentin Beck was guilty—he had to be. There was no proof yet, only the gut feeling you and Sam had felt, however, you knew deep down he had killed his girlfriend. As you listened to him speak you realized he was the kind of man who with one look made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. His eyes were the muddiest shade of blue, lifeless and cold. You didn't believe for a second he was ever in love with the victim. There was a moment you could have sworn he look through the two-way mirror right at you. You hated how intimidated you felt at that moment.

If it was the last thing you did, you would make sure this man would rot behind bars for the rest of his life.

Nothing new was learned from the interrogation. Steve and Maria came out of there, letting the hard look on their faces fall into defeat. Anytime they almost caught Quentin slipping up, Murdock was there to save him.

“ Counselor, I think it's time you take a turn. Murdock is giving us a run for our money,” Maria suggested, glaring at the two men inside the room.

“ She won’t have to. Look,” Bucky rushed over to where the three of you were, tablet in hand, to show you all something, “ See these videos? The victim's friends sent me these from the night they all went out. The suspect dropped her off and picked her up from the outing. He’s lying about her never going home. And see this?”

Bucky’s hand slid back and forth on the screen showing two screenshots of two different cars with two different license plates. You were too engrossed with the wickedness of the details you hadn’t noticed Bucky was standing next to you until his arm brushed up against yours.

“ They’re two different cars, that bastard. He picked her up in a different car than the one he dropped her off in. What car did he drive here?” Maria’s teeth were gritted. “ I checked the cameras and there’s a match for the first car he drove parked next to Carter’s,” Bucky showed another screenshot of the same car as the first, parked in the precinct parking lot.

“ Counselor, is this enough to get us a warrant?” Steve asked you.

You considered the evidence before speaking, “ This is more than enough to get a warrant on both cars. Although, it’s better if you send all of this to Romanoff. She’s closer to the judge’s chambers and can get you a warrant faster than I can. If you stall him long enough, you’ll have the warrant and the crime scene unit here to investigate the car before your time to question him is up. We don’t want him erasing any evidence,” you suggested.

Steve agreed, “Barnes, call Prosecutor Romanoff and give her all the information you have to get that warrant. Hill, go back in there and give him another round of questioning, maybe some paperwork to file. I have to make a few calls before I go back in. Counselor, I think we’ll be okay for now, but I’d appreciate it if you could deliver the warrant to Murdock himself. Something tells me if you give it to him, he’ll go easier on countering it.”

You nodded your head in agreement, feeling Bucky step away from you and shooting you one last glance before going back to his desk and doing as ordered. Maria went ahead and reluctantly made her way back into the interrogation room. Steve was standing there quietly, a pensive look on his face. There was clearly something on his mind, and you dreaded knowing exactly what it was.

“ You and Bucky, is everything okay between you two?”

“ Everything’s fine.”

“ Things don’t seem fine.”

“ They are. It’s all fine. Everything’s fine.”

The look Steve gave you let you know he wasn’t believing a word you said. However, he didn’t push it, merely sending you a sympathetic smile with kind eyes that made you want to confess everything. Steve wasn’t Natasha though. Steve was Bucky’s best friend and you didn’t deserve to be consoled by him—only hated. You broke his best friend’s heart and if he didn’t know, he would know soon enough.

Maybe Natasha was right. Maybe things always change anyways.

But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that.

You had to be okay with that.

“ Anyway, you have Captain duties to get to, and I have a lot of work to catch up on after the whole fair—flu thing,” you cleared your throat, stopping yourself from saying anything else. If Steve had noticed your slip-up, he didn’t acknowledge it. You let him know you would be back to hand the physical warrant to Murdock. You then excused yourself to make a quick getaway out of the precinct.

You speed walked out into the hallway that led to the elevator. You knew it was a comical sight how fast you were booking it out of there, but you didn’t care. You begged Natasha in your head to keep Bucky on the phone just long enough for you to slip out.

Unfortunately, for you, the phone call was already over.

You heard his footsteps before his voice, “Y/n, we need to talk.”

“ Sorry, Bucky, I can’t right now. I’m behind on paperwork and I need to get to the office as soon as possible,” you dismissed him, thankful the elevator doors were already open. A few officers were getting off, giving you the chance to quickly slip in without waiting.

Bucky, however, was also quick and moved his hand in between the elevator doors so it wouldn't close, “ You can’t even give me a minute? I don’t even deserve that?” The pain and disbelief in his voice were unbearable to hear. You stared at his feet, not being able to meet the eyes you knew would match the emotions in his voice.

“ Bucky, I really can’t talk right now.”

“ You can, you just don’t want to talk to me. You can’t even look at me.”

The tone in his voice froze you in your spot. It was foreign and angry. Bucky had never directed that kind of tone your way. A tone you could only associate with hatred. Something you had previously established was okay. If all your friends could hate you for hurting Bucky, then Bucky had every right to hate you for hurting him. He deserved so much more than you. He deserved to be with someone who wasn’t so conflicted about being with him. Maybe if he hated you too, everything would be much easier to get through.

Before you could respond or Bucky could say anything else, another group of officers stepped into the elevator, causing Bucky to remove his hand. The officers sent you quizzical looks as one of them pressed the ground-level button setting the elevator in motion. You were shakily gripping your briefcase, watching Bucky’s feet disappear as the elevator doors closed.

It’s okay Bucky, you can hate me. You thought to yourself, as though somehow being able to transmit this to him.

The next few weeks were agonizing. You and Bucky avoided each other at all costs throughout the entire case. If he came by the office he was never alone and all his questions were addressed to Natasha. He wouldn’t so much as glance your way and you understood why he was so hurt when you wouldn’t even look at him in the elevator. To have somebody who meant the world to you, who made you feel seen, act like you no longer existed was as if you were dead to them.

Maybe you were to him now.

The last time he ever spoke to you was after Quentin was arraigned and his bail was posted. Natasha made you go to the precinct to collect copies of witness statements. You were annoyed, knowing Steve or any other detective could have sent those copies digitally or even faxed them. It wasn’t until you arrived at the precinct and saw only Bucky was around that you realized this was a setup.

“ Hey...I came to get the copies of witness statements Nat called in earlier saying we needed,” your voice was stiff as you stood awkwardly by Bucky’s desk. He had been typing away at his computer before you approached him, and wasn’t showing any signs of stopping at your arrival.

He clenched his jaw, nodding slowly, getting up from his desk and going into Steve’s office. You took a step forward only to stop yourself, knowing it wasn’t a good idea to follow him in. He clearly wasn’t in a good mood at the sight of your presence.

He came out of the office moments later with a stack of manila folders in his hands. He handed them to you, “ Here, this should be everything you need.” His tone was distant and professional. You grabbed them, the apprehensive tension between you two threatening to suffocate you. You managed to mutter out a small thank you before leaving.

Neither of you looked at the other during that last interaction.

Steve, Sam, and Natasha tried talking to you about the situation—well more like Steve and Sam tried talking to you, and Natasha lectured you—but, you never gave them any real answers or explanations. You knew where they were coming from, but any brainpower you had left was dedicated to the case. You poured every waking hour into it to distract yourself from everything else. This worked incredibly, although it also brought on a foreboding feeling for when the case was over. Once you reached the finish line, it would be hard to ignore the obstacles on the other side of it.

This was the complete opposite of making things easier for you. In his absence, you realized how much you truly missed him and how comfortable you had gotten with his usual presence. This was the first case where you didn’t have late nights working on paperwork, and days going out to the field together to investigate. Natasha and you typically did your work separately which made it easy for Bucky, in previous cases, to come in and partner up with you at any opportunity.

You especially felt his absence when it came to rehearsing your opening remarks for Quentin Beck’s trial. You always did this with Bucky, but now he wasn’t here to give you pointers and reassuring words. He wasn’t here to comfort you and let you know you were going to do great. There was a moment when you were a click away from calling him the night before the trial but decided against it knowing how unfair that was to him.

No, instead, you had your bedroom wall staring back at you as you practiced your opening speech.

This was the loneliest you had ever felt.

On the day of the trial, you went over your notes with Natasha before it commenced. You dotted all your i’s and crossed all your t’s. You couldn’t afford to let Quentin Beck slip through the laws of justice over a technicality. He had murdered his girlfriend out of spite and jealousy, and thanks to the best detective team in Brooklyn, you had all the evidence to prove it.

Your opening went smoothly. The jury was immediately entranced by your persuasiveness—you even saw a few of them cry. This was good. As long as you continued to show them the monster Quentin Beck was, the easier and faster they would convict him.

Like any other trial, you and Natasha spilt the witnesses in half. Natasha was better at intimidating anyone on the stand, while your strong suit lay in appealing to the jury. Any emotionally packed moment was one you delivered. Any moment someone needed to be put in their place, there Natasha was. That is how the rest of the trial went.

When Quentin Beck was put on the stand, the tension in the room became palpable. Already the jury hated him, and his nonchalant demeanor did nothing to help. His eyes would glance over the room and every time his eyes met yours, you had to do everything in your power not to visibly shiver. After the brutality of the evidence of the victim’s murder was discovered his eyes became to you nothing short of haunting. In them lay a storm that was waiting to ensnare you and drown you. You couldn’t shake the discomfort they brought you when it was time to give the closing arguments.

You were good at thinking on your feet, so closing remarks always came effortlessly to you. It’s the same as always working on homicide cases. Humanize the victim as much as possible to the jury. Remind them the victim was a daughter, a cousin, a friend, and to many others so much more than that. Remind them the defendant was a cold-blooded killer. The one to act as the judge, jury, and executioner to the victim. Matt was trying to get a third-degree murder charge, while you and Natasha were gunning for first-degree.

The entire trial is important to the jury. They have countless notes to look back on and read over to refresh their memories. However, it's the closing statements that always stick with them the most since it'll be the last they hear from either side. You were great at closing the case, but you had to admit, Matt was damn good at it as well.

You made a dire mistake upon giving the final speech. In a moment of accusation, you pointed to the defendant, and let those same lifeless eyes intimidate you for a split second. It was quick, and yet that was all it took to feel like you were drowning again. To play this fear off you took an emotional pause to gain your grounding. To anyone who didn’t know you, this was a moment of silence for them to reflect on the tragedy of this crime. Anyone who knew you though knew this was a moment for you to catch your breath.

Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park.

The jury didn't take long to deliberate. The guilty verdict came back in record time.

“ Always a pleasure losing to you, Counselor L/n,” you heard Matt say behind you as he approached you after the trial. Natasha was a few feet away talking to Steve and the rest of the detectives. No doubt planning the usual celebration after a successful case.

“ You know, when you say it like that you make it sound like you lose on purpose,” you countered teasingly, packing up your stuff. Your goal was to sneak out of the courthouse as quickly and as quietly as possible.

He chuckled, “Never. Ever since law school you and I have gone back and forth with wins and losses. Maybe more losses on my part than wins.” This brought an amused grin to your face,“ So you admit I’ve always been a better lawyer than you?” This made you both laugh. After the last few weeks of feeling as though the world was crumbling down on you, it felt nice to bicker playfully with an old friend. It certainly made the air easier to breathe.

“ Walk me out?” You asked him. In response, he extended his arm out for you to grab onto to ‘guide him gracefully out of the building,’ as he put it. You rolled your eyes knowing very well he could navigate the courthouse halls better than you. Nevertheless, you linked your arm with his and walked out amongst the crowd of those who had attended the trial. As you were leaving you could've sworn a pair of eyes were on you. However, not wanting to confirm who those eyes belonged to, you ignored them and walked out of the courthouse with Matt. You continued to talk about the past and reminisce the days filled with bar exam study sessions and research essays on the fundamental principles of the jury selection process.

Outside, Matt helped you into a taxi, saying goodbye before parting ways. You were heading home wanting nothing more than to give yourself a long bath and maybe a nice nap. Anything to wind down from the stressful trial. Your usual method of stress relief after a trial was a fun night out with your friends, but of course this time it would be different.

You were getting fed up with different.

Your mind wandered back to Bucky’s encouragement during your closing. Even after everything Bucky was still caring and looking out for you. Guilt and shame were once more having a fight within you to see who could feast off of you more. Before you could lose yourself to these emotions, a call interrupted them.

“ You’re not coming are you.”

“ I will. I’ll take a taxi later.”

“ You can lie to everyone, Y/n. Even to yourself, but you can’t lie to me.”

She was right as usual.

“ I can’t go, Nat. I have tons of stuff to do. I have to prepare some final motions and other paperwork.”

You wished the ground would swallow you at this very moment.

“ You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?”

Again, she was right as usual, hanging up on you as you arrived outside your home feeling your world start to crumble again. Any sense of normalcy Matt had given you gone with one phone call.

The rest of your afternoon into the evening was spent giving yourself lots of self-care which consisted of a warm bath and shopping online for things you absolutely did not need. Anything to help you feel better. You tried convincing yourself it was okay for things to be different now. It was hard to pretend you didn’t care when in reality you cared way too much.

As midnight approached, you poured yourself a glass of wine to celebrate your trial win. “ Congratulations on another win, Prosecutor L/n,” you mustered as much fake enthusiasm as you could, and attempted to take a celebratory sip of wine, but found yourself fighting off tears instead.

Correction, this was the loneliest you had ever felt.

Your pity party was cut short by a knock on your door. You looked over at the time, fifteen minutes till midnight, and wondered who it could be. You knew at least it wasn’t Natasha since she would've just let herself in with her spare key.

You tiptoed over to your door and checked the peephole almost knocking your head against it in shock. Bucky was on the other side holding something in his hands. Your hand shot out to the doorknob, rattling it for a second, but you couldn't find the strength to open it. As a prosecutor, confrontation naturally comes to you. You found yourself surprised to know this wasn’t the case with Bucky. To face him and your actions these past few weeks was more anxiety-inducing than when you took the bar exam many years ago. Which was saying something since you threw up twice the morning of your bar exam.

At this point, you didn’t open the door not because you didn't want to, but because you physically couldn't. Your sweaty palms had a hard time twisting the lock off the door.

“ Y/n, you don't have to open the door, but please just listen.”

His voice was hesitant and slightly muffled on the other side. He seemed to be walking on eggshells around you and wanted to choose his words carefully. You didn’t blame him as you avoided him as much as he had avoided you. You more so than him if you were honest.

“Okay,” you whispered loud enough for him to hear. There was so much more you wanted to say, but once again in the presence of Bucky, you were rendered speechless.

There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke,“ Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing,“ I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.”

Your hand on the doorknob tightened as you blinked a few years away. You wanted to tell him that despite how it all ended that day was from a handful of days where you experienced the beauty of romance. To recognize it as such made your chest ache with longing, but it was the truth. It was cliche and yet, it was the first time you understood what it meant to feel sparks when kissing someone. It was a foreign sensation you wished the universe would give you the chance to feel again.

This and so much more were the things you wanted to say to the wonderful man on the other side. You were hesitant, however, to speak, afraid even one syllable would sound incomprehensible with the emotions you were trying to keep in control. Instead, you rested your head on the door and tried to calm down your racing heart. Maybe if you managed to do that you could say something—anything, to ease the pain for both of you.

There was rustling on the other side of the door and you wondered what he was doing. “ Today, when I saw how you were able to smile and laugh around Murdock, it reminded me of how we used to be. And I realize we might not have that again, but I’ll try to get back to a place like that. All I ask is for you to be patient with me because what I feel for you isn’t something that leaves from one day to the next, but to respect your wishes I’ll try. It’ll kill me, but I’ll try.”

Bucky’s words ripped your heart right out of your chest. If he said anything after that you wouldn’t know, your mind was no longer in the moment. It was racing a mile a minute grappling with what you wanted and what you thought you wanted. You tried convincing yourself for weeks that all you wanted was to go back to normal with Bucky. To have his friendship in your life because that would be enough. It wasn’t until he said he’d try his best to get rid of his feelings for you that you realized being just friends was never going to be enough—not anymore.

You stepped away from your door when the realization hit. What you felt towards him now was entirely different than the small crush you had on him when you first met. In all this time of getting to know him, he had wedged his way into your heart and found a permanent spot there. There was only one word that could summarize why in his absence it felt like a part of you was missing—it was love.

You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes.

You got a taste of what it was like to be lovers with him and you knew no matter what you tried to do, nobody else could satiate what Bucky had awakened. A part of you was still scared of what could happen if things went south, but the fear of closing that door of being something more with Bucky was greater than the consequences that could happen in the case of a conflict of interest. You felt immensely stupid for not realizing this sooner.

Before your mind drove you any crazier, your body took charge and swung your door open. Bucky was used to your incoherences, so at least he would be able to string together some parts of what was about to spill from your mouth.

This was cut short as you were met with no one on the other side of the doorway. Bucky was gone. He must have said goodbye and you didn’t hear it over the back and forth in your head.

You took a deep breath surprisingly relieved. As much as you would love to chase after him in your pajamas at midnight in the Brooklyn streets, you didn’t want to seem like a mad woman. Instead, you used this as an opportunity to collect your thoughts and prepare yourself for pouring out your heart to Bucky tomorrow. He had done the same, and you rejected him. There was a possibility you had to prepare yourself for him to do the same. You felt as though he had every right to after how you treated him.

Before you closed the door, you noticed there were two things on the ground Bucky must have left for you. One, a bag of takeout from your favorite restaurant which made you realize you completely forgot about dinner, and two, the teddy bear from the night of the fair. Your heart burst at the sight. You bent down and grabbed the teddy bear delicately as if it were a small child and hugged it.

It smelled like funnel cake and a happier time.

You brought in the takeout, never letting go of the bear. You couldn’t tell if the empty feeling in your stomach was from your lack of eating dinner, or from the guilt that was still making its home there over your treatment of Bucky. He deserved so much better and maybe he had realized that.

Maybe that’s why he said he’d get rid of his feelings for you.

You shook the doubt away, exhaustion taking over your body. You put the takeout in the fridge, not having the appetite for anything right now. You decided you would wake up early in the morning and make Bucky some freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. He loves when you bake a batch and bring them down to the precinct. He always said they were his favorite—now if that was because you made them or they actually were his favorite, there was no way to know.

The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court.

You fell asleep that night with the teddy bear in your arms.

Your idea to wake up early in the morning to bake cookies was a good one—if you hadn't overslept. In the midst of Bucky’s surprise visit, and writing him an apology, you forgot to charge your phone and set your alarm. So instead of waking up at six as you intended, you woke up at ten. Thankfully, since you just ended a big case there was no urgency to be at the office bright and early in the morning. Even though a bit rushed, you still baked the cookies and got ready as usual. Although, this morning you noticed you felt a bit more self-conscious about your appearance.

What does one wear to confess your feelings to someone you already rejected?

Is there an outfit that conveys I’m sorry, better than you ever could?

You wouldn't know.

You were able to charge your phone halfway before heading out. You packed the cookies in a red tupperware container sticking a post-it note at the top that read: For Bucky <;3. You gave the teddy bear a goodbye wave as you exited.

You decided against taking the subway today and got a lift from a taxi instead. You sent Bucky a quick text to let him know you needed to talk to him and if you could meet up with him at the park closest to the precinct. You knew his lunch break was coming up, so you hoped you could talk to him then.

As soon as you sent the text your phone rang, your heart skipping a beat. There’s no way Bucky read that message that quickly.

You were right. It wasn’t Bucky calling you, it was Natasha.

“ Hey, Nat. Sorry, I overslept, but I’m close to the offic—”

“ Y/n, where are you?” There was a hint of panic in her voice.

“ Heading to the office...” you trailed off an uneasiness crawling its way up your spine.

“ Tell the driver to go to Stark Hospital. There’s been an accident.”

You froze,“ Natasha, are you okay? Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“ It’s not me, it’s Bucky. He was in a car accident.”

The cookie container fell from your lap. You don’t know how you managed to find your voice to tell the driver to take you to Stark Hospital, but you did. A few blocks away there was a traffic jam, and the desperation to see Bucky and make sure he was okay was more than you or the driver could bare. You paid the driver and rushed out of the taxi, maneuvering your way through the rest of the cars until you reached the sidewalk. You continued to run from there.

Three blocks away.

Bucky was fine. He had to be fine.

Two blocks away.

Please, Bucky, for the love of everything, please be fine.

One block away.

Bucky, I can’t live without you, so please be fine.

Out of breath and barely able to see from the tears obstructing your vision, you made your way into the emergency room. You looked around the waiting room but saw no familiar faces. A nurse noticed you and came over.

“ Ma’am, who are you looking for?”

“ James Buchanan Barnes.”

“ He’s in the back in room seven, I have to first—wait, you can’t just go in.”

The nurse tried to stop you, but you must have looked at her like the world was ending because her features softened,“ Ma’am, I have to get you an approved visitor's pass. We can’t just have anyone back there.”

“ Screw the visitor’s pass, that's my fiancé you have back there. I have to see him,” you lied hiding your left hand in your bag in the process, moving past the nurse. You knew she was just doing her job, but the hopelessness you felt at that moment made you desperate.

Despite the nurse's protests, you marched your way into the back of the emergency room where all the patients were. You located room number seven and bolted straight to it, pushing the door open. Bucky was sitting on top of a hospital bed, his left arm in a sling, and his face scattered with a few cuts. He jumped back startled by your entrance. Relief overtook your features, finding yourself able to breathe again.

“ I am so sorry for the intrusion sir, but your fiancé was worried and insisted on seeing you.”

You froze in your spot, sheepishly, at the nurse’s words. Right, you told the nurse you were Bucky’s fiancé. Bucky bit his lip amused, “She was, was she? Of course, my doll was,” he extended his right hand toward you inviting you into his arms. You walked over to him timidly, as the nurse excused herself closing the door behind her.

When you heard the door close you embraced him tightly. He winced and you pulled away quickly, “ Oh—sorry, Bucky.” He shook his head, grinning giddily, “ Don’t apologize, I’m feeling better already.” Unamused, you scanned his injuries, “ Are you really? What happened?” At your question, Bucky explained how he and Sam were pursuing a suspect who rammed his car against theirs to stop them from catching him. Sam caught up to him on foot, since the car had been damaged, but Bucky had received the brunt of the hit and that’s how he ended up with a fractured arm and bruised ribs.

“ I’ll lock him up you know. He assaulted an officer, he evaded arrest, and who knows how many traffic violations he committed,” the more you spoke the more upset you became. You didn’t realize you were crying until Bucky wiped the tears from your face, and spoke softly to you, “ I know you will, you’re the best at that. I see it’s true, though. My fiancé was worried about me.” A look of endearment was on his face while yours was flushed with embarrassment. Although you didn’t bother to correct him, wanting to forget you ever said that to the nurse.

“ Well, I was worried. I thought, maybe—no, I don’t even want to say what I thought. I’m just glad you're okay. I actually wanted to talk to you, and say I was sorry and give you, oh no,” you looked down at your empty hands, no tupperware of homemade cookies in sight.

“ The taxi,” you gasped.

“ Give me…a taxi?” Bucky was looking at you delightedly, holding in his laughter.

“ Not a taxi, cookies.”

“Cookies?”

“ Yes, I baked cookies to give to you as an apology. I also had this whole speech prepared that I can’t remember right now. I wanted to say I’m so sorry for everything. For being so stupid and not talking it through with you since the beginning. For turning you down before even really giving us a chance. For letting my fear of what could happen, take control of this situation instead of taking control of it myself and handling it properly,” you were rambling on and on causing Bucky to chuckle before grimacing at the pain, his bruised ribs not appreciating his sense of humor.

“ Now, was this apology decided before or after you found out about my car accident.”

“ Before. Why?”

“ Well I thought maybe all I needed to do was get pummeled by a car to see your pretty face again,” he joked, causing you to laugh,” Shut up, it’s the painkillers talking isn’t it?”

“ God, I missed seeing you smile at me, doll,” he was looking at you like he had won the lottery.

“ There’s something I missed too,” you said sincerely thinking back to how empty you felt without Bucky in your life. You looked down at his injured arm, but he used his good one to lift your chin to look at him. His eyes twinkled, catching on to what you were saying, “ Does this mean I can give up on trying to get rid of my feelings for you?”

You nodded, not knowing what words were enough to convey how you felt. Instead, you decided to show him through your actions—so you kissed him. There they were again, those damn sparks only Bucky could make you experience.

He pulled you in by your waist with his free hand, so you were standing in between his legs. He reciprocated the kiss just as intensely as you had given it. Your hands reached up to cradle his head and pull him in closer—if that was even possible. This time there was no fear and no hesitation as you lost yourselves in the emotions you had been holding back for weeks.

The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind.

✧༺♡༻∞　　∞༺♡༻✧

Lovelies who asked to be tagged: @enchantedbarnes @sebsgirl71479 @xcaptain-winterx @marvel-wifey-86

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messrmoonyy · 1 year

Note

I just read your nsfw Headcannons for Tess and all I have to say is. Give. Me. The. Alley. Thing. Now. And no one gets hurt

The art of jealousy

Tess Servopoulos x Fem!reader

A/N- this request has been sat in my inbox since I first posted those Headcannons. Which was. A long time ago. I’m sorry. So here it is finally. Also the Headcannons being referred too are right here for anyone that wants to read them. Tess POV cause I really am loving giving a look into her head. I only proofread this once cause Tuesdays are becoming ever so slightly stressful for me so I just wasn’t vibing. So. Anyways. Enjoy.

Warnings- Tess lmao. Possessiveness, jealousy, she’s a lil rough at times but reader likes that, smut: fingering ( reader receiving), sex in a public place, choking, degradation

Word count- 3.8K

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated <3

If Tess was one thing, it was being possessive of shit that was hers. Maybe that was just a side affect- as it were- of the post outbreak world. No one had much that they could truly call theirs anymore. Tess had actually always found it quite interesting how attached people could be to their things. She’d never been the material type. Even pre outbreak she’d never been one for expensive jewellery, flashy cars or designer clothes. And she’d never really understood people’s obsession with it.

Material items took on new forms now. People these days valued things like boots. Or ration cards. Family photos they’d managed to hold onto for all this time. At least they were more practical now she guessed. But still, she wasn’t really one to be overly attached to things.

People too fell under that bracket. She straight up refused to let herself get attached to anyone once the outbreak hit. After losing her entire family within the first week of the outbreak she’d vowed to never let herself get close to anyone again.

And then you’d come along.

She hadn’t meant to fall in love with you. Fuck she’d actually ignored you for several months when she realised she might actually be feeling something for you. But you were persistent. And beautiful. And it was unbelievably irritating but you had a knack at kicking down the walls she’d built up over the years. Brick. By brick. And she had learnt that maybe she did have a possessive streak in her after all.

Because there was truly nothing she despised more than watching someone else flirting with you. And it happened a lot which wasn’t at all surprising. The majority of people she surrounded herself with knew not to mess around when it came to you. They knew that you were off limits. But occasionally someone new would poll their way into the underground scene of Boston, some attempt to establish themselves on the black market, and thoroughly piss her off.

Jealousy crept up on her more frequently than not, she couldn’t help it. She just didn’t like it. Seeing you around someone else.

She knew you weren’t about to run off with some random fuck who thought he could win you round with some ration cards. She had you wrapped tightly around her little finger, just as you had her. But still. It pissed her off.

“ are you hoping if you stare at the back of his head long enough he’ll just drop down dead? “ Joel’s southern drawl hit her ears and she flashed him an irritated look, before looking back over at you. You’d been striking up a deal with someone for over 10 minutes, some new fucker clearly bartering you down for the cost of some pills. But he was being too… touchy.

You were no stranger to flirting your way through deals and Tess had always been surprised at just how much you could raise the prices in trades just by simply… existing. Being a woman in the current climate had never been particularly great. And learning to use what you had to for your own advantages was vital.

‘ men think they’re getting something and they’ll be putty in your hands ‘ that’s what you had said once. And she wasn’t exactly against it, hell she was guilty of doing it herself. But it didn’t change how infuriating it was.

“ you know she won’t do shit. You got that girl eating out of the god damn palm of your hand “ Joel said with a laugh, chewing at a chunk of his rationed beef jerky and eyeing the hand of cards he was holding. Though Tess had long since lost interest in the game they were playing “ ask her to beg at your fuckin feet and she’d do it. Then again, you’d probably do it for her too “ A small smirk pulled at her lips with that. She knew it was true, of course. She trusted you whole heartedly, knowing you had zero interest in anyone else. Especially men. And no one on the entire planet could turn her head.

You were just as infatuated with her as she was with you. It was a mutual obsession that was no where close to burning out.

“ I know “

“ then drop the miserable look on your damn face and play your turn “ she rolled her eyes and took her eyes off of you for a few moments, looking back down at the cards in front of her. She played a card without even really looking at it, her eyes soon trailing back over to you again “ you are making this too damn easy for me “

She didn’t grant him with a response, eyes narrowing as she watched you exchange a half bag of pills for a wad of cards. Clearly more than you’d usually have sold them for, but her small proud smile didn’t last long.

The man stepped closer to you, head bowed as he said something in your ear. You gave a clearly over exaggerated laugh, arm on his shoulder. And she was certain she saw your eyes flick in her direction.

She huffed a laugh, sitting back in her chair and shaking her head in mild disbelief

“ the little shit “ Joel’s eyes drifted over to you too, his brow furrowed as they both watched you flirt with the man.

“ Jesus Christ “ Joel muttered, clearly thinking the same thing Tess was. You were doing it on purpose. Pushing her buttons “ don’t rise to it. It’s what she wants “

“ I know what she fuckin wants “ she narrowed her eyes, watching you across the courtyard as she attempted to continue the game with Joel.

“ hey Tess. How you doin? I was wondering if you had an- “ the sound of one of her customers filled her ears as she kept her eyes trained on you.

“ not now “ she said with a wave of her hand, not even looking up to see who was stood there

“ but- “

“ not. Now “

“ okay okay. That’s cool. Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow? Cool cool “ Joel sighed as the man shuffled off sheepishly

“ you’re forfeiting sales now? Will you just go talk to her “ she was tapping her fingers against the table impatiently now. Jealousy and anger swimming in her veins in a dangerous cocktail.

You were always the same. A fucking brat. Pissing her off to get your own way. And she knew exactly what you were trying to get out of her. Piss her off, wind her up, drive her insane so that the second you both got home she’d pin you down against the closest surface and remind you exactly who was in charge for as long as it took for the message to sink in.

But she was in no mood to wait until you got home. If you needed a little reminder of just who wore the trousers in your relationship, she’d remind you. And she’d remind you sooner rather than later.

One more gentle touch of your hand to the man’s chest followed by a glance in her direction was the last nail in the coffin. And she was tossing her cards down on the table.

“ Tess- “ she was up and out of her metal chair before he could finish his sentence, crossing the courtyard in purposeful strides, someone hopping out of her path as she went.

“ are you fuckin done? “ she asked in a low voice as she reached you, throwing a glare towards the man seemed confused at her sudden appearance

“ oh hi Tess “ you said innocently “ everything okay? “ the man took a step back, eyes widening as he looked between the two of you

“ you’re?- I didn’t know- “ she quite enjoyed watching people crumble under the weight of her reputation. Especially men.

“ if you have any idea what’s good for you, you’ll take your pills. And fuck off” she turned to you then “ and you. Come with me “ she walked off before waiting for a response from either of you, making a beeline for the back alley leading out of the courtyard. No one would bother her down there, the only entrance that lead from that way was the one from anyone coming from outside the wall. Which wasn’t very often.

She didn’t have to look behind her to know you’d be following. Even when you were in the mood to piss her off you were still desperate to please.

So she waited a few moments and then you appeared, strolling into the alley like you didn’t have a single care in the world. And she was reaching the limits of her patience.

She grabbed you by the wrist and pushed you back against the wall, hiding effectively behind a stack of wooden crates.

“ you okay Tess? You seem a little tense today “ god you were infuriating. She laughed and shook her head, trapping you against the wall with a hand resting beside your head.

“ the fuck was that back there? Huh? “ confusion twisted into your features, but the smirk tugging at your lips gave it away that you weren’t even remotely confused by her question. You knew exactly what you’d done “ you think it’s funny? “

“ I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“ oh you don’t? “

“ I was just making a trade. You’re a little scary you know, the new ones always prefer to come to me. You should smile a little more “ you reached up and poked at her face lightly “ I think you scared my customer away “

“ good. He needs to keep his fuckin hands to himself “

“ shame. He was quite nice “ the little monster that lived in her chest was trying to claw its way out, a pointless feeling of jealousy threatening to overwhelm her. It truly was pointless. She knew you were toying with her. You were playing her like a violin, messing with her to get what you wanted.

“ wanna go back out to him? Be my fuckin guest “ she knew you wouldn’t. Knew she had you exactly where you wanted to be. Though a small part of her did wonder if you would. Just to piss her off a little more.

“ you should know by now I’m not into the nice type “ she exhaled shortly through her nose and gave a small nod. She knew. Tess was not one for softness and romance. Yeah, from time to time it would slip out. But that’s not what you wanted from her. It’s why you worked together so well.

Her fingers brushed over the exposed skin of your neck, almost annoyed at the lack of purple and red marks she found. Maybe that was why the fucker back there had been so willing and accepting to your loaded advances. How could she have been so careless. To let her possessive marks vanish. Her clear silent brand that you were spoken for.

“ you don’t think I’m nice? “

“ there’s different meanings to different people “ she couldn’t help herself and dropped her head down to your neck, the blank expanse of your skin frustrating her. You tilted your head to give her access to more of you, attacking the blank canvas of flesh with her teeth “ see. Nice girls don’t behave like this. You taught me that “ she laughed against your skin, biting a little harder than she really needed to. Just to hear the delicious sound it would draw from you.

She knew she wasn’t nice. Not in the conventional sense. But you didn’t want nice. You didn’t want a cosy and warm relationship, soft forehead kisses and vanilla sex, cruising along in life and abiding by the rules.

You wanted her. You wanted the way she was rough, she was all teeth and bruises and hair pulls. She threw you around and left you wrecked for anyone else but her. And she knew that was how you were. She knew that was what you wanted. What you needed. Needing some kind of reminder that you were real, that the fucked up mess of the world around you wasnt a nightmare. You needed her to bring you back to life. And she was more than happy to oblige.

“ so what? You gonna take me home? “ she didn’t quite know when exactly she had decided she wasn’t going to take you home. The idea had arisen quite suddenly and she’d decided to act on it just as fast, quite certain she didn’t actually have it in her to take you all the way home. Not when she was so wound up.

That paired with the smugness still interlacing between the syllables of your words… she had a point to prove.

“ no “ you gave her a confused look and now it was her turn to smirk “ you act like that and think you get to choose if we go home or not? Gotta be fuckin kiddin me baby “ she leant in close to your face, her hand moving up and applying pressure to your throat. She felt your breath stutter, your fingers wrapping around her wrist. Not so cocky anymore.

“ Tess someone might- “

“ what? You were okay with behaving like some common fuckin whore out there in front of everyone, but not here for me? Breaking my fuckin heart “ she liked the way you seemed to lose all of your cockiness in an instant. She practically watched it drain from your features.

“ I wasn’t doing shit I was working “ Tess quirked a brow and smiled, fingers moving to unbutton your jeans. The second her fingers slipped into your underwear and she felt how wet you were, her smile grew. She wondered if you knew how much she truly loved how easy it was to make you wet. How much it turned her on just to have you so willingly at her mercy, how much you so clearly wanted to be used by her even if you attempted to deny it.

“ I’m not stupid. I know what you were doing. You think I didn’t know this is what you wanted? “ a soft moan slipped past your lips as she dragged your arousal up and slowly circled your clit “ you wet for me or that fucker back there? Huh? “

“ what do you fuckin think? “ Tess raised her eyebrows and shook her head, not the biggest fan of your tone of voice. Your breath hitched as she set herself into a steady rhythm, losing your cool and cocky demeanour as she worked you into a mess. It never took her long. She could read you like a book and knew how and where to touch you to have you melting in minutes.

“ the attitude on you sweetheart “ she increased the speed of her fingers, applied more pressure to your neck. She watched the way your eyes fluttered closed, loving the way the light headed bliss washed over you “ that’s it baby, can’t talk back now can you “

Your eyes fell onto hers as she slipped two fingers into you, not bothering to ease you into it with one. You were wet enough for it, she knew.

“ fuck- “

“ you think you’re so powerful don’t you? Thinking you can fuck around like that? Look at you now “ she kept her voice low, in that tone that she knew you loved. That made your velvety walls flutter against the fingers she was thrusting in and out of you roughly “ do you think they all know back there? That you’re back here with me getting fucked like a little slut? Do you? “

You whimpered out an answer your nails digging painfully into the skin of her wrist

“ I’m sorry “ your whimpers and whines were cute but she found it mildly funny that you thought they would make her go easy on you. She was only getting started.

“ not good enough “ her thumb applied pressure to your clit and you moaned loudly at the feeling “ acting like you’re so big. So bad. But who’s the one getting fucked in an alley? What do you think they’d say if they saw you now? Saw you a pathetic mess having your cunt stretched out by my fingers? Hmm? “

“ I- I said I’m sorry. I’m- fuck “

“ you should be. I look after you, I take care of you. And yet you behave like that? Such a spoiled little brat. You want more? I bet you want more don’t you “ your moans were increasing in pitch and she was a little cautious of being caught, but she was far too preoccupied by you to care completely. By the own arousal pooling in her belly, she didn’t need to be touched to get off. Watching you fall apart at her hands was enough

“ yes. Yes. More “ you begged. She loved hearing you beg.

“ greedy girl “ she glanced down at her hand that was hidden in your jeans and smiled, adjusting the slightly awkward angle and carefully adding a third finger to the mix. You winced at the new stretch and she gave you a moment before continuing her movements.

“ fuck Tess “ the sounds falling from your mouth mixed with the sopping sound of your cunt stretching around her fingers was almost too distracting, fighting the urge to stop and take you home so she could fuck you properly.

You were getting louder, even when she stifled your sounds for a moment with a more firm grip on your throat. When she could feel your pulse hammering beneath her finger tips.

“ nice and quiet. Or do you want them all to hear you? Is that what you want? “ it’s what she wanted. Deep down. A part of her desperately wanted people to hear, to remind everyone and anyone that thought they had a chance with you to back off. But a louder part of her was yelling at her, that she didn’t want anyone finding you both there. So you’d have to quiet down “ quiet “ she warned.

She sighed in mild annoyance when you didn’t listen.

“ sorry I- I can’t- “ so she clamped her hand down over your mouth and shook her head in disappointment. Though internally she was unbelievably fucking smug, very much getting off on the fact that you couldn’t control yourself. Because of her. You were a whimpering, shuddering wreck because of her.

She wondered if she should have planned this a little more thoroughly before executing it. If she could’ve roped Joel into dragging the man you had been flirting with down that alley too. Forced him to watch. Get a couple of hits in to really cement the fact. That you were hers. No one else’s. You weren’t to be touched. Or looked at. Or even thought about but anyone but her.

In an ideal world where she didn’t act on impulse and actually planned that exact moment, that’s what would have happened. Maybe she’d have even taken you some place more secluded. Where she didn’t have to force you to be quiet, where she could let you be loud. Let that bastards ears be filled with you moaning her name. The wet sounds of your cunt soaking her fingers.

He’d never get to have you like that. He’d never get to feel the way you clenched on her fingers, the way your inner walls were so soft. No one would. Only her.

But maybe that was for another time. In that moment she was quite pleased with herself, pleased with the way she had you whimpering into her one hand and dripping all over the other.

She wished you could see how pathetic you looked there for her, squirming in her hold, eyes rolling to the back of your head as she pushed you closer the edge. Her hand across your mouth, neck covered in fresh hickeys, your arms grazing against the brick wall.

“ I don’t want you acting like that anymore. You understand me? “ she curled her fingers as she said it, pressing at the spot she knew sent you spiralling. That she knew would render you unable to respond, that gave you that wonderful blank look in your eyes when all you could think about was her. Exactly as she wanted you. You nodded your head, eyes falling closed “ I can’t have you showing me up like that again“

She couldn’t. She didn’t need people seeing you treat her like a pushover, so easily able to walk all over her. She was in charge. She had the control. You were hers

“ who do you belong to? “ she asked you, moving her hand down from your mouth and gripping at your chin “ who? “

“ you “ you said breathlessly, your chest heaving and grip on her wrist tightening. She knew you well enough to know when you were almost there, recognised the sounds. The look in your eyes. The way you tightened around her fingers.

“ say it again”

“ fuck- “ she was a little cautious of how loud you were being again but she wanted to hear you say it, needed you to say her name and feed the jealous creature sitting in her chest.

“ say it or I swear I will leave you here like this “ she threatened “ say my name baby “

“ Tess “ you gasped, voice high and breathy “ Tess. You I belong to you please- “ she smiled and gave a small nod.

“ that’s my girl “ she moved her hand back over your mouth as you came, whining loudly even muffled by her fingers “ you fuckin remember that yeah? You’re mine “ she said against your ear as she worked you through it, coming over her fingers “ all mine “ she kept going, only withdrawing her fingers when you slumped against her. Legs shaking and chest heaving as you caught your breath.

She dropped her hand from your mouth, eyes scanning your face and an overwhelming smugness settling over her at your fucked out appearance.

“ did I make myself clear? “ she asked quietly, thumb brushing over your lips.

“ crystal “ she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth before letting you go and taking a step back, running a hand through her hair as she looked at her handiwork. It was clear as day what had just happened and she took great pride in the fact that you would walk back into that courtyard, and everyone would know. Bruises were blooming on your throat, your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen from your teeth sinking into them, hair dishevelled.

“ I’ll let you get back to work then shall I? “ she said with a smile as if it were the most normal thing.

“ you fuckin kidding me? “ she shrugged and leant forward to press a kiss to your cheek “ just keep your hands to yourself this time “ then she stepped back and made her way back to Joel, almost sauntering her way back to the table where he was still sat.

The cat who had gotten the cream.

“ you are fuckin unbelievable “ he muttered with a shake of his head as she sat back in her chair, arms folded over her chest and eyes locked on the entrance to the alleyway waiting for you to appear.

“ deal me some new cards Texas “ he shook his head with a sigh but gathered up the cards again as you re appeared. You had tried to make yourself look more presentable by the looks of things, but even if people could excuse the flushed look of your cheeks or the glazed look in your eyes. There was no escaping the freshly bloomed artwork she’d left on your neck.

She’d like to see anyone try it on with you now.

#tess servopoulos #tess servopoulos x reader #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fanfiction #smut #x you #x reader #other characters for exposure:#Joel miller #Ellie Williams #tlou hbo #Anna torv

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mlmxreader · 2 years

Text

My Ghost | Tyler Durden x m!reader

Anonymous asked: Hey it's me again :)

So i wanted to request a more angsty fic whit Tyler Durden and an M!reader whit the prompt "Tell me you love me".

I was thinking about the story taking place in the months where Tyler disappears (whit the presumption he's actually real y'know) and the reader looking for him everywhere only to stumble in him in a dark alley behind a bar and confronting him about leaving and unresolved feelings.

Thank you sm dude

-🐊

summary: Tyler is many many things, you just didn’t think he could be a ghost.

tws: swearing, smoking, Tyler being an asshole in general, mentions of sex

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

You guessed that you should have seen it coming a long while ago, you guessed you should have known that the day would come when Tyler would no longer be with you, would no longer want to be around you and would abandon you in favour of the next hot thing that caught his eye; you just weren’t expecting it to be so sudden. It was like he had never even been with you in the first place, everything in your home felt like it had been untouched by the sinful grace of Tyler Durden.

The chair where he usually piled up his clothes when he stayed over was barren and empty. The table that he usually left littered with Red Bull cans and Starbucks coffee cups was a wasteland of nothing but dust. His smell no longer lingered in your bed, sheets seemingly freshly washed. His bottles of cologne and pots of hair gels didn’t haunt the bathroom. His coats weren’t chucked on the sofa. It was as if Tyler never even existed, never even entered your life. You knew you should have seen it coming, you just didn’t expect it to be so fucking sudden; you thought he would at least tell you goodbye.

But you probably weren’t important enough for that.

For a while, you were looking everywhere for him, just to ask what you could have done differently, just to ask what you could have done to make him stay; you could have sworn you spent more time searching for him than anything else. Every day after work, you would go out looking for him in the usual areas; checking to see if he still haunted them, hopeful but knowing you probably wouldn’t so much as hear a ghostly whisper of his name.

Tyler Durden was a ghost.

You were out with Jean one night, gossiping about your boss Patrick over a few drinks and talking about what a fucking vile cunt he was; although you didn’t want to admit it, you were appreciative of something to take your mind away from Tyler. You knew you were a fool for doing so, but you missed him; you wanted him to take you back, call you his boyfriend once more. But it had been at least a month, and if you were going to find him again, you would have by now. She caught you looking around more than a handful of times, and took it upon herself to change the subject.

“You should put yourself out there,” Jean told you with a shrug. “You’re a handsome, funny, smart guy, (y/n) - anyone would be lucky to have you. Fuck Tyler.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “I know, I know… maybe I’m an idiot.”

She shook her head, clenching her jaw. “Don’t you dare say anything like that again. You are so fucking smart, don’t tear yourself down over some guy.”

You sighed, downing the rest of your drink before you took another look around. “I need a cigarette - you wanna come with?”

“No, I’m good,” Jean gave you a soft smile. “Just… think about what I told you, yeah?”

“Alright,” you kissed her cheek before you left.

You weren’t going to stray far from the pub, but you had every intention of wandering around a little as you smoked your cigarette; trying to drum it into yourself that you were better than that, you were better than the ghost, you were a handsome, funny, smart guy and you certainly could have done better than Tyler. You didn’t need him, you could move on and find someone better, someone who wouldn’t just suddenly up and leave.

But then, in a dark alley behind the nightclub that stood opposite the pub, you could have sworn you saw the outline of the ghost you were chasing after; hunched over wearing a red leather jacket, red leather sunglasses to match. No asshole would be caught dead wearing those sunglasses at that time of night; but then, he was no ordinary asshole.

“Tyler!”

He looked up, grinning. “Oh, hey, baby.”

You marched over, and the second you were close enough, you smacked him; it made him laugh as he recoiled. “You fucking prick! You absolute fucking stupid cunt!”

“Woah,” Tyler grinned, putting his arm around your waist until you pushed him back. “Puppy finally got his bite as well as his bark, huh?”

You shook your head, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket as you brought him closer. “You fucking left me.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged. Nonchalant.

“You broke my heart.”

“Shit happens.”

“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you spat. “I looked for you, I asked for you - no one heard so much as a fucking flea fart.”

Tyler smiled smugly. “Couldn’t get me out of your head, huh?”

“Fuck you,” your vision was going blurry with tears. “Fuck you!”

“Look at you,” he chuckled. “You couldn’t stay away from me.”

“I fucking hate you,” you whispered. “I despise you.”

Gently, Tyler grasped your chin between his forefinger and thumb, holding you in place as he easily took control, grinning so fucking smugly that you wanted to just smash his face against the nearest surface. “Tell me you love me.”

You were ashamed of it, but you couldn’t stop yourself, “I… I still love you.”

“Good boy,” he whispered. “What’re you doing out so late?”

“I was drinking with Jean,” you murmured.

“Jean,” Tyler scoffed. “Y’know, she only hangs out with you because she wants to fuck you instead of her Yuppie scum boss… even then that’s only because he won’t.”

“No, she doesn’t,” you huffed. “Jean loves me, we’re thick as thieves!”

“Trust me,” Tyler gently dragged his thumb along your bottom lip. “She wants to fuck you.”

“You’re projecting.”

“Not tonight,” he chuckled, letting go of you and laying his arm across your shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll go drink with you both.”

“Tyler-”

“I’ll buy your drinks,” he reassured, shaking his head. “And, uh, for the record? I’m gonna take you home with me later, too.”

“I haven’t forgiven you.”

“Never said you did,” he shrugged. “But we’ll get there eventually… this is just round two.”

“You’re an ass,” you murmured, smiling for a moment. “I hate you… and we’re going back to my place, not yours.”

#mlem writes #tyler durden x reader #Tyler Durden imagine #Tyler Durden #fight club fanfic #fight club x reader #fight club imagine #fight club #brad pitt x reader #brad pitt imagine #brad pitt fanfic #brad pitt

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katareyoudrilling · 2 years

Text

Construction Corner (AU Joel Miller x Female Reader) Episode 3: The Moreno Family

Fandom: The Last of Us/Pedro Pascal

Pairing: TV Host Joel Miller x divorced Female Reader

Summary: Joel and Reader go on a date!

Word count: 2.2k

Rating: Explicit (18+ only. NO MINORS)

Content Warnings: Alternate Universe, cameos galore, inaccuracies about tv show production, filming, and construction, f masturbation, heavy petting (I guess?)

A/N: Extreme weather and a resulting internet outage kept me from posting this earlier today, but it gave me time to make sure that it’s just how I want. I hope you enjoy! Reader is divorced and in her late 30s but is otherwise a blank slate. Big thank you to @wheresarizona and @just-here-for-the-moment for the help!

Comments and reblogs very much appreciated!

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Just a little more…

You like that?

So good for me…

Let me hear you…

You wake up with a gasp, sweaty and tangled in your sheets, the heel of your right hand pressed against your center. You are on the verge of coming from the hottest, filthiest sex dream you’ve ever had… starring one Joel Miller. You debate what to do about the throbbing between your legs. Take care of it or hope it goes away? Your hips grind against your hand of their own accord, your body apparently deciding for you.

Relaxing your legs, you begin circling your clit. It doesn’t take long until you’re throwing your head back as your pussy pulses around nothing.

“What the fuck?” you pant, lying limp on the bed after. Joel’s confession seems to have flipped a switch inside you. It has been an interesting couple of days, to say the least. A part of you that has lain dormant for a long time has suddenly come back to life.

If your body lights up at just the memory of him kissing your hand, what will it do when he kisses your mouth? Or lower? You whimper into your pillow as heat pools in your belly once again.

He asked you to take your time to make sure you were ready and you’ve been thinking of little else since that conversation. On paper, it feels fast. Your divorce is only a few months old. But, in reality, your marriage was over long before.

You have lived enough life to know you can trust your gut. You appreciate that he gave you time, but you know what you want.

You glance at your alarm clock. You’re due on set in an hour, just enough time for a much needed cold shower before you head out.

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

You can hear the voiceover in your head as you watch the B-roll the crew shot last week…

When single dad, Marcus, and his daughter, Missy, aren’t busy with work and school, they love watching movies and cooking dinner together. Marcus seemingly does it all… but he could use some help on his DIY project.

On the screen, Marcus and Missy throw a frisbee and set the table. Marcus looks over Missy’s shoulder while she does homework, and she snuggles next to him on the couch.

These two are perfect for Construction Corner.

Their project isn’t a big one – a pretty standard bathroom remodel gone awry – which means the shooting schedule is packed into just two days, with another Austin shoot scheduled for the rest of the week.

Hopefully Marcus is ready for the fan mail that’s about to come his way… there is going to be A LOT of it. An attractive single dad is HGTV catnip. God knows Joel gets an astronomical amount. At first, the network sent it to him, but he quickly asked that they stop. He just couldn’t handle that much attention.

You wonder what he would think of what you did this morning… waking up to thoughts of him and getting yourself off. Embarrassment heats your skin, and you fan yourself with your notebook to cool down. Then another thought occurs to you… what if he liked the idea? That has you fanning yourself even more.

“Hey, lady!” Your dirty thoughts are interrupted by a friendly voice nearby.

“Marlene! Hi! I didn’t know you were visiting today.” You wrap your friend up in a big hug. One of the best parts about shoot days in Austin were that friends often came to set to visit. Marlene works for the local PBS station that first aired Construction Corner. Since the show moved to HGTV, you haven’t seen nearly as much of her.

“I thought we would stop by to say hello.” Just then, Marlene’s adopted daughter, Ellie, a precocious 8-year-old, spies Joel near the craft services table.

“Jooooooeeeellll!” She squeals as she runs over to him and leaps into his arms.

“Hello, darlin’,” he laughs as he gives her a hug. “You got a joke for me?”

“Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?” she asks seriously.

“I dunno, why did the monkey fall out of the tree?” he replies, just as seriously.

“Cuz it was dead,” Ellie replies dryly.

“Ellie!” Joel barks out a surprised laugh. “What’s your mama lettin’ you watch?” He looks over to Marlene, who smiles and shrugs. “Want to go look at the tools?” Ellie nods enthusiastically, and the two of them set off together, but not before Joel looks back at you and winks.

“What was that?” Marlene turns to you in confusion.

“Oh… well…”

“Spill.”

“It’s just that… we might… start seeing each other,” you mumble.

“Lady! That’s great!” She pulls you into another hug.

“You think so? It’s all very new.”

“Of course, I think so! You deserve the very best, and Joel is one of the best men I know.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that. It’s a little weird, with work and all… but I really want to,” you admit with a whine.

“It’s not like either of you actually works for the other. Go for it!”

“I think I will,” you smile to yourself. Joel and Ellie are making their way back to you. Ellie is chattering excitedly about something while Joel nods along.

“Well, we’d better take off,” Marlene takes Ellie’s hand. “It was great to see you both!”

After another round of hugs and whispered promises to tell her everything, Marlene and Ellie make their way back to their car, leaving you and Joel standing together for the first time since your hotel room last week.

“Hi,” he ventures, tentatively.

“Hi,” you reply, biting your lip. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last week.”

“Is that right?” the low rasp of his voice sends a swoop of pleasure to your belly.

“I think I’d like to go on that date you offered.”

Joel’s eyes crinkle as he breaks into a slow grin. “How about tomorrow? I’ll pick you up at 7.”

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

“What we’re gonna do next is caulk around the new countertop,” Joel explains to Marcus and Missy as you listen over the monitor. “I’m gonna show you a trick to make sure it’s nice and neat, not like what was in here before.” Marcus looks sheepish. “It’s ok, it’s trickier than it looks. The pros do this all day and make it look easy. But we’re gonna use tape.” Joel holds up a roll of blue painter's tape and then starts lining it up carefully on either side of where the caulk line will be.

He hands two rolls of tape to Marcus and Missy and lets them do the rest. Once they’ve finished, he continues, “You’ll lay your line of caulk, smooth it with your finger, then remove the tape and have a straight and even line. Ready?” Joel hands the caulk gun to Marcus.

Marcus takes it from him solemnly and does as Joel explained. Joel nods his approval as Marcus pulls off the tape, leaving a perfectly caulked vanity.

“See how nice that looks? Don’t be a hero. Use the tape,” Joel says, patting Marcus on the back.

“Hear that, Dad?” Missy interjects.

“I heard him,” Marcus laughs and hip-checks his daughter. Joel smiles at them proudly, another job complete.

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

You open your door to a very handsome man.

Joel has cleaned up since the shoot this afternoon. He replaced his worn work jeans with dark, crisp ones that hug his hips. Instead of a t-shirt, he wears a button-down with the collar open and the sleeves rolled up. His hair is stylishly mussed. Knowing him, it probably just does that on its own.

His warm brown eyes skate up your body, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you reply, shy under his gaze. You opted for a sundress since the fall evening was still rather warm, the fabric brushing softly over your skin.

Joel reaches for your hand and leads you to his truck, opening the door for you to climb in. He circles the front and gets in his door as you settle yourself in the seat.

“I made us a reservation at Fonda San Miguel, if that’s alright?”

“Joel, that’s my favorite restaurant! It sounds wonderful.” You reach over and squeeze his arm. He smiles happily as he puts the truck into gear.

“Thought I remembered somethin’ like that,” he says casually as he turns out of your parking lot, and your heart squeezes.

Dinner passes in a blur of delicious food and lively conversation. Fonda San Miguel’s eclectic backdrop is perfect for a relaxed yet special first date.

You and Joel know each other well, so there isn’t the awkwardness of most first dates, but there’s still a lot you don’t know about each other’s histories.

Over bacon wrapped shrimp with jalapeño and cheese, you fill him in on your marriage and divorce, how you’ve realized that you’ve been lonely for a long time.

While digging into Cochinita Pibil, he tells you how he had never dreamed that he would be able to provide a college education for Sarah, how his dreams are so much bigger now, how he wants to do good in the world.

Between bites of a shared Tres Leches Cake, you agree that this feels right and exciting. Your eyes lock over the table.

On the drive back to your apartment, words begin to fail as anticipation builds between you.

Joel gets out of the truck first and opens your door. He holds your hand as you lower yourself out of the cab.

You’ve barely touched tonight – only chaste hands over the table – but now your body is just inches away from his, and you sway towards him. He moves his hand to your waist.

“Can I kiss you?” he rasps with an edge of desperation.

You nod eagerly, and he closes the short distance between you. His plush lips brush gently against yours – exploring, tasting. He cradles your jaw in his strong hands as he delves into your mouth, urging you to open for him. You grasp his hips to hold yourself steady.

The heat of his body warms you through your thin sundress and you can’t get enough. Your hands roam over his muscled back and down his firm biceps. His mouth on yours is warm… soft… insistent. After an eternity, and far too soon, he breaks the kiss.

“Would you like to come inside for a drink?” you blurt out and he nods at you with heavy-lidded eyes.

You lead him into your apartment and into the tiny kitchen. The door has barely closed behind him when he spins you up against the counter and dives back into your mouth. His hands roam more freely this time, digging into your hip bones and sliding up your ribs, nudging at the swell of your breasts.

You press into his front and are rewarded with the hard line of his erection against your stomach. You moan and grind into him even more.

“You’re gonna kill me with the sounds you make, sweetheart,” Joel growls, nipping at your neck, hands moving lower over your ass. With a hand under each thigh, he hoists you up onto the counter. Your knees frame his slim hips. You pull him towards you with your heels, craving friction against your center.

His hands dip under the hem of your skirt. They skate up your bare thighs until his thumbs brush the edge of your underwear – calloused fingertips on silky skin.

“Please, Joel,” you beg between wet, desperate kisses. He complies and slips his thumb under, cursing raggedly when he finds your slippery folds.

You rock your hips into his hand as he kisses down your neck and across your collarbone all the while circling your clit. You come undone with a gasp of his name and slump against his chest.

Joel holds you firmly against him as he drags his mouth across your temple, your forehead, and finally back to your lips for slow, languid kisses as your breathing evens out.

“I should go,” he rumbles against your mouth.

“But… no... what about you?” you look up at him in hazy confusion.

“I’ll be ok,” he assures you before dragging his thumb down your cheek and pulling at your lower lip. “It’s getting late… and I want to take my time with you.” A shiver runs up your spine at the promise in his words.

“Don’t go, please,” you whisper, looking up at him.

“Sweetheart, I know, I’m sorry,” he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his strong arms around you, “but we have to be on set so early tomorrow. We don’t have time tonight for what I have planned for you.” He pulls back and lifts your chin to look you in the eye. “I promise, I’ll make it worth the wait.”

You whimper and his eyes flash with want. But he’s a patient man – a man who does things the right way – so, he helps you down from the counter and kisses you deeply at the door one last time before heading out into the night.

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

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A/N: for anyone not familiar, this episode’s cameo is from the movie “We Can Be Heroes”

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#construction corner #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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