#I have no memory of any form of feeling for the show until she told me about her crush

[theapangea]

I actually posted about this but I thought a fun dynamic to play with for lip and his girlfriend would be lip and a non drinker. Shes like the designated driver caregiver and the gallaghers love her because after parties they all magically wake up in their beds and lip just really values her more than life, like hes so in love its insane

A million times yes to this!! I love the idea of soft!Lip. Hope you love it!!

Soft 4 You

Lip Gallagher x reader

A/N: This is told from Lip's perspective which I think just lets us get into his head and how he feels about you. If you see any mistakes, no you didn't.

~~~

Summer in the Southside means two things - sweating your ass off during the day and partying until you black out at night. For Lip, the getting drunk off of your ass was all part of the fun, especially when he knew you were around to make sure he got home safely. 

The events of last night quickly fade away as the sunshine peeks through the makeshift curtain pinned to the wall. The whipping sound from the fan turns into a high pitch ring causing Lip to groan. His heartbeat pounding right behind his eyes as the beginning of a headache settles in. 

The feeling of his brain wanting to burst out of his skull makes him grab his pillow, placing it over his face, half covering himself from the sun and the other half suggesting that maybe death is a better way to deal with this hangover. His arm stretches out to feel around the bed, but it's empty, the presence of you long gone on this painful morning, if you could still call it morning. 

Pushing on the pillow more, the pressure lightly helping with the deadly headache. Squeezing his eyes tighter as the image of you begins to form inside his eyelids. Your smile, your voice, your laughter dancing around Lip’s head, the only solace from the raging migraine.

He wants to live inside his mind forever. The memories playfully swirl through his head as a warm, fuzzy feeling brews inside his chest. His heart beats faster just by thinking of you, the way you brighten a room, how you carry yourself, selflessly putting others before you. Caring for his siblings as if they are your own, stepping up to take the responsibility of the household on your shoulders. 

Since Lip met you, he has promised himself that he will become a better man for you. Become the partner that you deserve, striving everyday to do so. Lip wants you to have the world, hoping one day he can be the one to give it to you. 

Lip is so helplessly in love with you that he definitely doesn’t mind the fall.

The cotton mouth is too much to handle as he just lays there in his own sweat. He thinks if he waits here long enough that at some point you will show up, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, fingers rubbing over his chest, your sweet scent engulfing his nose. But sadly he can’t wait that long.

Groaning as he lifts himself onto his elbows, blinking a couple of times as his surroundings become clear, the headache throbbing more with every move. His eyes trailing along the room before seeing the tall glass of water that sits on the dresser. Smacking his lips a couple of times as he wants nothing more than to drink something. 

Pushing himself up, a small puddle of sweat lay underneath as he scoots to the edge, the bedsheet sticking to his legs as he fumbles to stand up. Using the dresser as leverage so he doesn’t fall.

The faint hint of a smile appears as he comes face to face with the water and next to it, two Advil and a little note that says ‘take these’ signed with a heart in the corner and your initial. His heart skips a beat as his fingers trace over your delicate handwriting. Barely being able to think straight because of the hangover and now you got his mind racing a million miles an hour with your love. 

Quickly raking a hand through his hair before swallowing the pills and chugging the water. Closing his eyes to allow the medicine to relieve some of his pain, knowing it will take longer than a couple of seconds. 

Tripping over himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans. Leaving his room to wobble down the hallway and descend down the stairs to the kitchen. The sound of chatter and laughter fill Lip’s head, wishing the happy sounds weren’t causing his head to pound more. Finally stopping on the bottom step as he observes the scene in front of him. 

Deb’s and Carl’s laughter fill the small room as you are telling a funny story. Your voice erupts louder as the punchline comes, sending them into fits of laughter. Their faces tell how much they enjoy having you around, the way you bring a sort of calmness to the house. Turning it into a home.

The kitchen is a bit of a mess as the grand breakfast you made - pancakes, eggs, bacon - sits on top of the stove. The dining table is messy as Lip can tell you just finished eating. Taking your time with his siblings to bond with them and get to know them on a deeper level. 

He couldn’t love you any more than in this exact moment. Without you knowing he was around. 

Lip gets pulled from his thoughts when Ian comes racing down the stairs behind him, patting Lip on the shoulder while he passes by. Prompting you to turn towards them both, a huge smile forming on your face, the kind where your eyes grow smaller and your cheeks grow bigger.

And God did that damn smile light a fire inside of him that he will let burn forever.

~~~

what did you think ??? thank you for reading !

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher #Lip Gallagher fluff #shameless x reader #shameless fanfic #theapangea

[dantakeyoman]

omg.. i need a pt 2 to the seeing you for the first time :") it was so well written!! maybe something where he keeps staring at her and not doing well to adapt until his parents scold him?? if ur too busy then no need obv, but yeah i like ut writing alot !! 🫶🫶

Neteyam Is Struggling In Learning The Metkayina Ways, So You Give Him Some Encouragement (SFW)

Part 2 of "Head Over Heels"

CW: simp Neteyam, touchy reader, Lo'ak and Kiri duo, annoyed Ao’nung, reader is lowkey kinda crazy lol ( but in a good way i swear ), i headcannon that the Sully kids use beads as a barter system of some sort, and the person with the most beads has the most bragging rights, which is why Lo’ak and Neteyam have so many in their hair ( they bet a lot), Kiri has a few, and Tuk has next to none ( she doesn’t really understand it, but still attempts to )

“Neteyam, how many times have I told you? You must breathe from here, not here,” you playfully scolded, placing your hand on his chest and stomach to show how he was doing it wrong.

Neteyam’s breath hitched, already feeling his heart rate pick up.

Shit.

You moved you hand from on top of his lungs, to on top of his heart, and sighed.

It was practically going a mile a minute, like every other time you had checked these past two weeks.

“And your heartbeat. You must calm down, Neteyam. Allow your mind to go blank, and your heart rate to slow.”

It had been the same shtick since the boy got here.

All of the other Sullys had taken to their lessons swimmingly, now able to keep up with Ao’nung and Tsireya.

But Neteyam was the only one that couldn’t quite get the breathing right.

When Ao’nung taught him how to ride an ilu, he got it almost immediately. It only took him two tries.

When Rotxo taught him some basic sign language, he got each gesture the moment it was shown to him.

So why was he having so much trouble when you showed him some simple breathing techniques?

Little did you know, the boy could to do the breathing perfectly fine.

Practicing in his free time, he had managed to get it on his own.

But in order to graduate from his lessons, he had to keep up the technique for 5 minutes, with you checking to make sure he maintained the proper form.

And that was the root of the problem.

In order to check, you had to touch him, feel up on his chest.

And that always sent his heart into a frenzy, making all memory of the technique go out the window.

You were just so...you.

Every time you got anywhere near him, everything about you would flood his senses.

Your smell, your voice, hell, just your aura in general. 

It would all cloud his mind, and leave him unable to think about anything else.

It was overwhelming, and made it so he couldn’t be anywhere near you unless he wanted to become a stuttering idiot.

Which was, obviously, impossible to avoid during your lessons.

How does Dad do this everyday?

Who knew having an angel could be so frustrating.

“Here,” you started, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I think I have one more way to help you get it.”

He watched you, intently, as you tied a large rock to a really long stalk of kelp, then tied it to your ankle.

Once it was secure, you gave him a warm smile, which practically turned him to putty.

Fuck.

“See you later,” you winked, pushing the rock in the water and jumping in after it.

Neteyam stared, confused, as he watched you sink.

What is she doing?

2 minutes go by.

Is this normal?

4 minutes go by.

Okay, something’s up.

5 minutes go by.

That’s it.

Neteyam quickly dove into the water, frantically looking around to find any sign of you.

When he couldn’t see anything, he swam deeper, turning at a large coral reef.

There was no way you could’ve disappeared. So why couldn’t he find you?

It was scaring him.

What if you drowned? What if you were attacked by a predator? What if you had been swept away by the current?

These thoughts only fueled him more. And when he made it past this giant school of fish, he saw you.

The fish had been obstructing his vision at first, but he could now see that you were floating in the water, limply, as the rock from before kept you tethered to the ground.

Without hesitation, he swam towards you, whipping out his knife and cutting off the kelp stalk, before taking you in his arms, dragging you up.

He could feel himself slowly running out of air, but he had to stay strong. He couldn’t let you drown, not like this.

Not when he could’ve saved you sooner.

“Sure, men can have angels. But only real men can protect them,” his father’s words repeated in his head, keeping him going.

He was a real man.

And he was going to be his angel’s protector.

When the two of you broke the surface, he let out a loud gasp, flopping the both of you back onto the rock, panting.

When he turned to you, you were unconscious, laying still on the stone.

“(y/n)! (y/n), are you alright?!” Neteyam frantically asked, trying to shake you awake, pressing on your chest a few times.

That seemed to do the trick because you gasped, coughing up a little bit of water as your eyes snapped open.

“For Eywa’s sake! You surely took your time,” you breathlessly laughed, looking up at the boy with a smile.

“I-...wait....YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE?!” he exclaimed, shocked.

He was absolutely befuddled. You scared him half to death, and you did it on purpose?

“I’m sorry I tricked you. But that was the only way I could see the breathing get through your thick skull,” you apologized, giving him a little flick in his temple, making his nose twitch.

It made your smile grow.

He looked cute when he was shocked.

Without warning, he pulled you into a bone crushing hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Please don’t scare me like that ever again,” he asked, his voice quiet and slightly broken.

It made you blush, and your heart wrench, at the same time.

You hadn’t thought he cared for you that much. Not to the point where he sounded like he was on the verge of tears at your death.

It made you guilty for pulling such a cruel stunt.

But it also made you feel loved, loved in a way you had never felt love before.

“I am really sorry, Neteyam,” you apologized once more, your joking tone gone.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he backed out the hug, keeping him close.

He expression turned confused, and you gave him a chaste kiss as an answer, making his eyes blow wide.

This was really happening. You were really holding him. You were really kissing him.

Eywa, please don’t let this be a dream.

You kept it short and sweet, long enough to let him feel your emotion, but short enough to make him want more.

When you pulled away, his lips chased you a little bit, mindlessly, and you giggled.

“Let’s take it slow, forest boy,” you smiled, placing a hand on his lips.

He nodded frantically, like a child being promised candy, and it made you burst into full laughter.

This boy made you feel happier than you had in a long time.

“C’mon, let’s go for a swim,” you suggested, moving your hand from his mouth and nodding towards the water.

“I’m in,” he smiled, staring at you with an enamored glint in his eye.

That’s when you remembered.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better,” you started with a smirk, turning to him and resting your hands on his chest.

His breath hitched, and his heart picked up speed yet again.

You leaned into his ear, dropping your voice to a whisper.

“You passed.”

The way you said the words made a shiver go down his spine, and a warmth spread through his body, it’s origins being your hands.

You pulled back, flashing him an innocent smile as if what you did was the most natural thing in the world.

But he knew better.

You knew exactly what you were doing to him, hiding it behind that beautiful smile and those gorgeous eyes.

Little did you know that that was making you all the more enticing.

Who knew his angel could be such a little troublemaker?

bonus !!

Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Ao’nung watched you kiss Neteyam in the distance, their ilu lessons being put on hold for the spectacle.

“Look at my bro. It’s only two weeks and he’s getting some tail in,” Lo’ak smirked, setting a reminder in his head to congratulate his brother the next time he saw him. 

“You better tell him to keep his hands to himself,” Ao’nung grumbled, turning to Kiri.

He did not find the situation as amusing as Lo’ak.

“Tell her that,” Kiri playfully scoffed, watching you move your hands down to his chest.

“Are Neteyam and (y/n) mates now?” Tuk asked, tugging on Lo’ak’s arm.

“No. But it’s only a matter of time,” he shrugged, ruffling her hair.

“Hey!” Ao’nung exclaimed, shooting the boy a sharp glare.

“I’m betting a week,” Kiri smirked, crossing her arms as she turned to her brother, holding up a satchel of beads.

“I’ll take action,” he smirked back, holding up his own.

“I hate you all,” Ao’nung groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

But in all honesty, knowing his sister, he gave it a few days.

#avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #na'vi x reader #na'vi x y/n #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam fluff #atwow x reader #atwow #metkayina

[navybrat817]

Sweet and Strong

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You stop by the parlor to drop off some treats. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Fluff, flir-ting, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Tess is a real one, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: More Hottie and Sugar from my Sin on Skin AU.❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You did your best not to let your mind wander during the work day, but Bucky hadn’t left your thoughts since he dropped you off at your place. A dopey smile formed on your face more times than you could count. The tattoo artist was your dream come true. Someone who looked like they could destroy everything in their path, but treated you with such care.

And he said yes to a date with you.

How does a man like him exist?

“Careful,” Tess said, nudging you to the side so she could take a cookie from the case. “Keep making that happy face and it’ll get stuck that way.”

“Is that a bad thing?” you smiled, making sure there were no customers looking as you typed a quick message to Bucky on your phone.

“Hope you have a good day, Hottie.”

After a moment, you cringed and put the device away. Though Bucky gave you his number after he dropped you off, you didn’t message him immediately. Waiting until today was better because enough time had passed, but was the text too casual? Not casual enough? Was it clingy to message him before you had your date?

Why am I overthinking this?

“If you’re smiling because of Bucky, it’s a very good thing. Especially after what he did to help you. I think he should get a permanent discount,” Tess said, making you raise an eyebrow when you didn’t detect a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“We talked about this,” you gently reminded her when she pouted, a look that told you she was still upset. “Please, stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

When Tess heard that Richard ambushed you after closing, she beat herself up for not being there. You assured her it wasn’t her fault that your ex showed up. She was thankful you were okay and that Bucky, and everyone else in the shop, stood up for you. She also added that if she saw Richard sniffing around the place that she’d kick him in the nuts.

Bucky assured you he wouldn’t come around and you believed him.

“I’m just sorry I didn’t see him get put in his place. Been a long time coming,” she said, a bit of mischief back in her eyes as she leaned against the counter to smile at you. “And I’m bummed I missed that kiss.”

“Why did I tell you about that?” you asked, your cheeks hot as you recalled the moment Bucky’s lip touched yours. If you closed your eyes, you could almost feel him kissing you again. The memory made your heart swell.

As if on cue, your phone went off.

“Day’s better now that I’ve heard from you, Sugar. Can’t wait for our date. Planned something special.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you reread the message and hugged the device to your chest. You weren't sure how many women Bucky dated or how many special dates he planned before you. The thought of it being a high number didn't make your stomach sink as you expected. What mattered was that the two of you were taking a chance on each other.

And even though you technically asked him out, he took the time to plan something for you. When was the last time a guy did anything remotely nice for you without expecting something in return? Why had you settled in the past for less than what you deserved?

“You told me because we’re best friends,” Tess answered with a smirk when you looked her way. “Is that him?”

“Yeah, it’s him,” you smiled, showing her the message. “I wonder what he has planned.”

“Whatever it is, you better give all the dirty details when he dicks you down. And not to be graphic, but I bet he eats pussy like-"

“Tess!" you groaned, praying the nearby customers weren’t listening. But, god, if you hadn’t thought about what he’d be like in bed. He’d be so good to you. “Let’s try and be professional.”

“Professional, my ass. I’m not the one flirting with the hunk or making eyes at him every time he steps into the shop,” she pointed out.

Fair.

“And, look, I’m not saying you have to get laid on the first date, but I am saying you have to let him in your pants at some point,” she said, laughing as you tossed a towel at her face.

You laughed, too, and wondered just how the night would go. If you put out on the first date, would he think you were easy? If you waited too long, would he move on? You were overthinking again, but you couldn't help it. You really liked him.

He likes me, too, so I must be doing something right.

“What do you get out of it if I let him in my pants?” you asked curiously.

Tess placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed. “I get to keep seeing you happy, which you have every right to be."

"Thanks," you smiled, a wave of fondness crashing over you. The two of you saw each other go through many ups and downs of life. She deserved the world and it meant a lot that she wanted that for you, too. "Is it too much if I run some treats over for him? Especially since I just texted him?"

Bringing a small selection of baked goods for Bucky and the guys would be a small way to thank them for defending you. Deep down, it was also an excuse to see him before your date. You hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"The guy has visited the shop for all of your shifts since he first came in. So, no, it isn't too much if you surprise him and send something his way. He might like it."

"I'll be quick," you promised, selecting some of the best treats from the case, including one with little hearts.

"Take your time. Jill and I can handle this," she smiled as if she sensed your giddiness. "Go treat your man."

"He isn't my man yet," you teased.

But I'm already his girl.

"Yeah, he is," Tess winked, giving you a gentle nudge. "Now go."

It didn't take you long to cross the street to the parlor and thankfully you didn't drop the box. You hoped you looked decent. Well, as much as you could during a work day. At least you had a cute apron on.

"Hi! Welcome to Sin on Skin!" Jake said as you walked through the door. "Sugar! It's you!"

You held back a laugh when his voice echoed. "Yeah, it's me," you smiled, holding up the box. "I wanted to drop these off Bucky and the rest of you, if that's okay?"

"You brought us food?!" he asked, leaning on his arms to look over the counter. "Hold on. Lemme grab him."

"You sure? If he's with a client…" you trailed off when Jake dashed away from the counter.

You took a moment to look around again, your gaze settling on an intricate flower tattoo. Seeing the place without the fear of your ex following you made it even brighter than before. Like your shop, it was expressive and inviting. Bucky likely put as much love into it as you did with yours.

"That was my first piece."

You tore your gaze away from the wall to find Bucky beside you, a dopey smile back on your face. There was only a small amount of space between you and your heart raced as you looked him over, the large man clad in his usual tight shirt and jeans. He had his hair pulled back and you resisted the urge to tuck a few strands back that came loose.

He would manage to look sexy as hell with latex gloves on.

"It's beautiful," you said honestly.

"Thanks. She's a good friend and still a client of mine. So is her husband," he smiled gently. "I'm glad you stopped by."

"Me, too," you smiled back, holding up the box in your hands. "I just wanted to say thanks again to you and the guys for sticking up for me. It isn't much, but I hope you all enjoy them."

"Oh." A slight frown formed on his face when you handed him the treats. "You know you don't have to give us these, right? We didn't do it expecting you to give us anything in return and I'm sure as hell not going to let anyone speak to you the way that prick did."

You furrowed your brows a bit, even as you nearly swooned at his protectiveness. Had you upset him? "I know I don't have to," you said, clearing your throat. Why did the thought of them defending you just for being good guys make you emotional? "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

Was this a bad idea?

You let out a breath when he smiled again. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you didn't feel obligated," he said, touching your arm. Even with the glove, the touch sent heat between your thighs. "It's a very sweet gesture, Sugar. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you said, satisfied that he wasn't unhappy with the small gift. "And I'll admit. I also stopped by because I wanted to see you before our date," you added.

"You did?" he smirked, bringing warmth to your cheeks as you nodded. "While we're admitting things to each other, I've been watching the door and hoping you'd stop in. I even dreamt about you when I took a nap."

"No, you didn't," you giggled, a sense of power and elatedness filling you that his pull to you was that strong.

"I swear. I don't think Steve will let me live that down" he chuckled. You wondered what exactly he dreamt about. Was it passionate? Intense? "Can't get you outta my mind. And, frankly, I don't want to."

Oh.

You didn't think he could make your heart beat any faster, but he continued to surprise you. There was no shame or timidness in his tone or his stare. It was steadfast and true, like he wasn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve with you. If he could be vulnerable and open with you this way, you could do the same in return.

Go big or go home, right?

"I can't stop thinking about you either," you told him, proud that your voice didn't waver.

"You can't?" he whispered and you suddenly didn't like the box between your bodies. It made him feel too far away.

"No, I can't," you whispered back, gazing into his blue eyes. "I waited to text you because I didn't want it to be too soon. And even though I don't know where you're taking me on our date, I already have the perfect sundress laid out and ready to go."

"You can text me as much as you want. I don't care what time of day," he assured you before his eyes lit up mischievously, like he knew something you didn't. "And a sundress is fucking perfect, but no asking for hints about our date"

"Not even a little one? Please?" you asked, giving him what you hoped was a cute pout. You didn't actually want him to tell you because you wanted him to surprise you, but you hoped you looked enticing.

Bucky slowly licked his lips and shook his head. If he was trying to look hot, he more than succeeded. If he wasn't, did he have any idea what that teasing motion of his tongue did to you? "I'm tempted to tell you and I'm very tempted to kiss you right now, but no. No hints. I need to stay strong."

I'm very tempted to kiss you, too.

"Fine, Hottie. I'll be good," you teased, pouting again. "For now."

Bucky moved the box beside him so he could step closer, his eyes darker than before. "You wanna be good for me?"

Yes, sir.

"Yes," you answered, leaving out the "sir" that echoed in your mind and shivering as he continued to stare. Before you could say anything more, you noticed that the shop had gone quiet. You leaned over to look past Bucky and giggled when you saw the crew staring, taking you out of the moment. Steve and Hal both had knowing smirks on their faces, but no way could they have heard your conversation. "Hope you enjoy the treats!"

"Oh, we will," Hal winked. "What about you, Bucky? You gonna enjoy your treat?"

"Get back to work!" Bucky called back before he smiled disappointedly. "Speaking of, I should, too. I think my client gave me enough of a break."

"Yeah, I need to get back," you said. You didn't want to leave Tess and Jill hanging. "I hope you have a good rest of the day."

"You, too," he said as you went to the door. "Be good for me until I see you again."

Fuck.

"Only if you're good for me," you smiled over your shoulder, catching his surprised smirk before the door shut.

You took a breath, allowing the breeze to cool you off. Maybe a cold shower would do a better job. You smiled as your phone went off, expecting a teasing text from Tess. It caught you off guard when "Mom" popped up.

Well, that can't be good if she's texting me. God, did she somehow hear about Richard? The last thing I need is a lecture.

Instead of opening the message, you tucked your phone away. You needed to get back to work and you had a date to look forward to. You wouldn't allow your mom to sour your mood because Tess was right.

You had the right to be happy.

No ruining this upcoming date, mom! Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #tattoo!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x reader #tattoo artist!bucky barnes x baker!reader #hottie and sugar #sin on skin au #tattoo!bucky barnes #tattoo artist!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #tattoo artist au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader

[starsxblazing]

Cause and Effect (Part 2)

Azriel awoke in panic as the horrible memories replayed in his mind on a constant loop. He was worried about Cassian who had been severely injured just to protect him in his compromised state. As he assumed, his brother was with Madja who was working on his shredded wings. Knowing that he was in good hands, Azriel immediately launched into the skies to check on his High Lady’s sisters.

He had been horrified in his helpless state as he watched the three of you being turned into High Fae. Only the oldest and youngest of the sisters had put up an actual fight and although it was admirable, it hadn’t done either any good. His mind was stuck on his initial thoughts of you. Your timidness and fear did nothing to cover up your beauty and he was reminded of his shock and frustration when Nesta hadn’t made a fuss about you as she had for Elain.

His mind shifted through memories further back and realized that he hadn’t seen you on his visits as they dealt with the human queens. None of them knew that Feyre had a younger sister and he wondered if it was to keep you safe but the lack of response from your sisters told him that it wasn’t the case.

To his surprise, you were the first one that he saw as he landed on the balcony. There was a half eaten plate of food that had been pushed away to make way for a book that you seemed to be unable to focus on. As soon as your eyes met his, he was unable to resist the small that he gave you. 

A sense of happiness and peace radiated off you so deeply that he could feel it all of the way across the room as he passed through the glass doors. It wasn’t until you gave him a genuine smile that shock overtook him. The warmth of a golden thread spread through him and it was all that he could do to regain his composure.

“How are you doing?” he asked in a gentle voice as he restrained himself from touching you. 

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly as you surveyed the room that you were both in. “I’m not sure how to adjust or even begin to learn what all of this means through how disorienting all of it is.”

Your words hit him like a stone to the heart, causing it to ache tremendously. You had just been traumatized and forced into a life without your consent. Not only that, it appeared as if you were left to deal with it on your own since your sisters were nowhere to be seen or heard. There were so many things that weren’t adding up but the more that he tried to figure it out, the more that his anger tried to overtake him. He forced it deep down so that he would be able to keep all of his attention on you which ended up being very easy to do.

“I could never even begin to imagine how overwhelming that it is.” Another bright smile formed on your face that had his heart warming. “I have faith in you but I’m always here if you ever want my help with anything.”

A shy smile replaced your bright, genuine one and he felt desperate to do any and everything in his power to make it return even though he wasn’t sure how to do so just yet. The only thing that he did know was that you were his mate and he wanted to follow you around like a love-sick puppy. During his eleven years of being imprisoned in his father’s keep, he had done nothing but dream about what it would be like to have someone love him unconditionally and to love them in return.

Even though he knew that mating bonds didn’t always work out, your smile that seemed to show a genuine kind heart had him hoping that it wouldn’t be the case. He didn’t deserve you, that much he already knew, but he was willing to do everything in his power to. Your eyes became stuck on the shadows resting around his shoulders while curiosity shined through your eyes. No matter how hard that he tried not to, he remembered not knowing about you sooner. When a slight frown formed on his face was when your entire mood visibly shifted and it was all that he could feel in the air around the two of you.

“I never saw you when we went to visit your sisters,” he mused quietly, hoping that you would give him a reason why.

“I was in my room. I didn’t- ” you sighed, your eyes glossing over in the process. “Nevermind. It’s not important.”

“I think it is.” He did his best to keep the anger and frustration from his voice and his shadows in check. “You shouldn’t have been excluded, especially not with something so important.”

“It was my choice.” A sad smile appeared as tears lined your eyes, the sight hurting his heart. “I wasn’t.. It’s not really important enough to be worth sharing.”

“I think-”

“What are you doing?”

Nesta’s voice from the doorway had the both of you turning to look at her, her face etched into pure icy anger. The look had you stiffening up in front of him and he took the less than a handful of steps to stand close behind you. His jaw clenched unbearably hard as he rose to his full height, his wings flaring slightly in his protective nature of you. 

Your sister, undeterred or bothered by his threatening demeanor, did nothing but continue to glare at the both of you. The female hadn’t been anywhere near the room and hadn’t seemed to care enough to have you by her side. It made him wonder what the angry interruption was about but he wasn’t given time to question it before you sighed quietly while hanging your head and shaking it slightly.

“We were just tal-”

“You don’t need to talk to her,” Nesta snapped. “She has us. Stay away from her.”

He had to force himself to relax his jaw when he noticed that you were turning to look at him. You simply glanced back at him with apologetic eyes before walking away from him. His eyes narrowed at the archway when you went in a completely different direction than your sister did. Nesta had been insistent that you had her to help you but he could already tell that it wasn’t the case.

He almost followed you but decided against it because he wasn’t sure if it would help you or not but he did know that wherever you were would be his permanent residency.

If you weren't tagged, it was because I was unable to!

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover @cleverzonkwombatsludge @alessiazeni @rhenysz @ladespedidas @meritxellao @candyjaypoppins @carnationworld @mulansaucey @why4anne @tsibba01 @sassyangel16 @aetherl0l @wallacewillow0773638 @cherryinsalemverse @lupinswolfsbanes @amysangel @ayme301 @sassyslytherinshai @zeroangelo13 @sirens-and-moonflowers @evye47 @starcrossedsan @impossibelle @landofpetrichor @tuggboatfishin @dr4g0ngirl @one-big-fangirl @mistyheart @ang-taylorsversion @youngblood199456 @anuttellaa @thestartitaness @fxckmiup

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar

[natalievoncatte]

This was it, the moment of truth. The plan was going flawlessly, and in a few minutes, Lena would have what she needed to complete and launch Non Nocere. She was about to save the world.

(You mean your master plan, Lex’s voice snickered in her head)

Lena shook it away, as she had so many times already. When Kara glanced at her, Lena played it off as the cold. She was, after all, standing outside in the actual Arctic, brutally aware of how underdressed she was even in a heavy woolen coat and doubled up leggings.

Even here at the roof of the world, Kara was gorgeous. The sunlight glared off the ice and yet it only seemed to make her more radiant, her sun kissed skin practically glowing, blue eyes the color of the sea darkened by a distant storm.

“I’ll never understand why your cousin built this place here,” said Lena.

“He didn’t. There was an ancient Kryptonian outpost here from long, long ago, when my people were more expansionist. They abandoned any plans to colonize other solar systems thousands of years ago.”

Lena looked at her, damning her own curiosity. Kara, for her part, looked far away.

“Why?” said Lena.

“They decided they’d done enough damage to their own world.”

Lena blinked. Turning away, Kara inserted the key into the locking mechanism and unleashed a series of heavy grinding sounds as the doors parted.

Within, it was warmer.

(At last I walk these hallowed halls, a conquerer)

Not by much, though.

Lena drew in a breath and looked around, allowing herself a moment of unrepentant awe. The ceiling arched high overhead where the crystalline walls joined to form a peak, giving the Fortress of Solitude the air of a great cathedral. This gave a reference to the statue of a handsome man and beautiful woman, pressed side by side with joined hands and expressions of fear and hope as they gazed off into some distant star.

“That’s Jor-El and Lara, my aunt and uncle.”

Superman’s parents, Lena thought.

“Don’t your family have statues?”

“Kal-El created the memorial,” said Kara. “He didn’t know about my family until I told him.”

Lena huffed.

“I have a hologram of my mother,” said Kara. “It’s really just a computer interface. She doesn’t… I remember them in my own way.”

Kara cleared her throat, and Lena saw tears welling up in her eyes. A twist of pain turned in her stomach and her hand fell on Kara’s shoulder.

(That’s it. Play to her emotions. Use them like she used yours.)

“I hate this place,” Kara whispered.

Lena pulled her hand back.

“Why?”

“I thought I’d be excited to show you. There’s just so much I’ve always wanted to share, but this place is a tomb. When I’m in here, it’s like home, but not. It’s just a reminder of everything I’ve lost, and it makes me feel sick how much I want to go back.”

“Of course you want to go back,” said Lena. “It was your home.”

Kara let out a low, shuddering breath.

“It was, but it’s not anymore. I’ve lived on Earth now longer than I did on Krypton.”

She was looking up at the statues, or past them, perhaps. Lena couldn’t help but study her profile, the curve of her jaw and the soft lines of her face. How could someone who could crush coal into diamonds with her hands and kill with a glance be so angelic?

(Such an innocent face to hide such betrayal)

Lena swallowed, trying to still herself and tamp down the sympathy she felt.

“I envy him.”

“Who?”

“Superman. My cousin. He’s so lucky. He only gets the good part, the blessing from my uncle and the special heritage. For him, this place is joyful. It’s the answer to all his questions and full of strange wonders and joys. He tries to mourn them but how can he mourn something he’s never known?”

“I’m sure it must be sad for him, wondering what they were like.”

“He never knew them to disappoint him, either. It want his father that created Medusa. Sometimes I just wish I could forget it all. This place reminds me I don’t really have a home.”

Lena turned to her sharply.

Kara sighed. “My home is still out there. Argo, I mean. It’s basically a new Krypton. I could go if I wanted. Kal is there with…” she trailed off.

“Lois,” Lena added. “I pieced it together pretty quickly after you told me your identity. He’s Clark Kent, isn’t he?”

“You’ve always been too smart,” said Kara, and she sounded so genuine, so admiring, that it made Lena briefly wish she didn’t have to do this. That it had been real.

“I can’t go back there. I can’t be part of that society anymore, where people don’t get any choices in what they do, or…” Kara looked directly at Lena, dragging out the pause a beat too long. “Who they love.”

“What do you mean?”

“On Krypton, we had what I guess you’d call arranged marriages.”

“So you’d never have been able to be with Mon-El.”

“I wouldn’t have been allowed to choose him, no,” said Kara, “though thinking back, really thinking about it, I don’t think I would have in the end.”

Lena looked at Kara, who still stared up.

“Why?”

“We were only together because…” she let out a long sigh. “Because I don’t have a home anymore, not really. I can’t go back to my own people and I don’t belong here.”

“Of course you have a home, Kara,” said Lena, lightly touching Kara’s arm.

“You’d don’t know what it’s like,” said Kara, choking back a small sob. “No matter what path I take I have to kill part of myself. I can’t be Kryptonian and human, no matter how hard I try. The Kryptonian side keeps taking things away from me. I can never be my whole self with someone.”

Lena swallowed.

“Just look what it did to us,” said Kara, turning to Lena. “I almost lost you because of it, because of the lies I let myself tell.”

“Kara,” Lena lied, “I’ve forgiven you. We don’t have to re-litigate this.”

“Maybe you have, but I’ve never apologized to you properly. I’ve just been trying to smooth it over and fill in the cracks and I know how hard you’ve tried but it’s not enough for me to just let you do all the work.”

“Kara…”

“I was such an asshole,” Kara said, and Lena blinked. In any other circumstances, she’d have made a joke and chided Kara for her unusual profanity.

“I mean about the Kryptonite, but about other things, too. I shouldn’t have treated you one way while I was in the suit and another way when I wasn’t.”

“I’m still not sure which one was real,” Lena blurted.

(No! No, what are you doing? You have to make her think all is forgiven so she’ll take you to the armory!)

“They both were,” said Kara. “I was angry about the Kryptonite, and I was scared. I admit it, Lena. As much as I trusted you then and I trust you now, I didn’t know what to think. My best friend was making a poison that only hurts me.”

“I didn’t know it was you,” said Lena. “If I’d known…”

Kara swallowed.

“I know.”

“If I’d known, I would have come to you about Sam. I would have come to you about a lot of things, Kara.”

Kara tried to blink back tears and failed. Something about seeing her cry openly while wearing the suit made her seem so small and delicate.

“I wish I could be human,” said Kara. “I wish I could just be the person you thought I was and we could just be us.”

(Us? Lex snarled. You’re nothing more than a dog to her, that can be put down when she’s done with you!)

Lena’s throat tightened and tears stung her eyes.

“You know, when I was fighting Red Daugher, Lex’s clone of me…”

Lena looked at her sharply.

“I… I couldn’t beat her. I was losing. She… she killed me. My heart stopped. I was gone.”

Lena choked out a soft sob, unable to restrain it.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I knew I couldn’t go. I had so much to stay for. I don’t know how I did it but I dragged myself back from the other side, I just… I thought of Alex and J’onn and all my friends and everything I have to live for, everything here, on Earth, my home. Even that wasn’t enough.”

“What was?”

“You,” said Kara. “I couldn’t go without making amends with you, or at least trying. You’re my lodestar. I’ll always come back to you eventually.”

(She’s just trying to keep you in line. It’s a lie. It’s always a lie, she’s all lies!)

“I’m glad. I need someone around to safe me from assassination attempt number 547,” said Lena. The joke turned to sand in her throat, her voice on the edge of breaking.

“I’ve spent weeks trying to think of a magic combination of words that will make it better, but there isn’t one, is there? I can only tell you how sorry I am that I did what I did and promise I never will again. I’m so sorry I hurt you. It’s the worse thing I’ve ever done.”

“Kara…”

(Just let her trust you. You’re almost here. Myriad is here. The answer is here. Fuck her sentimental bullshit. She-)

Kara slowly reached out and caressed the back of her fingers against Lena’s tear-stained cheek.

“It’s crazy how dying made me realize so many things.”

“Like what?”

“All the things I never knew I wanted to do, until I knew I’d never do them.”

Lena swallowed, hard, fighting the urge to lean into her hand and press the warm skin to her own.

“Like what?”

Kara leaned in, filling Lena’a space, and Lena was acutely aware that she was the only warmth in this frozen place. Kara’s other arm swept around her, Kara’s fingers spread wide across Lena’s back.

“Is this okay?”

(No! NO NO NO!)

“Yes.”

(You can’t do this! You killed me, Lena! You killed your only brother for her and she’s a liar and a-)

Kara kissed Lena the way she did everything: Fully and completely. As Kara drew them together, Lena tipped back just a touch, as Kara seemed to tower over her, surrounding her in a warm embrace. Their lips met softly, chastely. Lena felt like she was in middle school again. It was as if she’d been rewound back to before her first clumsy, lip-pinching kiss in a boarding school bathroom.

She wasn’t sure whether it was Kara who deeepened the kiss, or her. In the end, it didn’t matter. Kara escalated by degrees, pausing as if to murmur an apology at any moment. Lena grasped her like was the only solace in a raging storm, feeling those steel cable muscles flexing beneath her suit.

Then she squeaked in Lena’s mouth when Lena grabbed a handful of ass, and Lena giggled.

“Do you want this too?” said Kara.

(You killed me!)

Yes, Lex, and I would again.

“Yes,” Lena admitted, and it was as if some great heavy weight had fallen from her shoulders.

She threw herself into Kara, shivering.

“It’s cold in here.”

Kara pulled Lena tight, wrapping them both in her cape.

“Let’s get what we came for and go home.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #alternate take on 5x8 #ficlet #alternate take on tremors #yet another first kiss #yet another love confession #the abyss gazes also #the abyss sees you’re a dumbass #idiots in love #lena luthor is secretly soft #Kara is openly soft #softcorp #people don’t scheme to conquer the world because they’re just friends

[anianurst]

Dreams Do Come True

Summary: days go by, and Yuji's dreams stop. restless by your absence, Yuji decides to confide in his teacher

A/n: the final part of this mini-series :( im happy that it's received so much love <3 thank youuuuu

Warning(s): mentions of death, puke, mental breakdown, spoilers for jjk season two (episode 17)

It's quiet without you. Not a peaceful quiet but an unsettling one. One that fills your lungs and sits and you struggle to breathe. You hadn't appeared since Yuji was awakened from his last dream with you. Night after night, he goes to bed with bated breaths, hoping you'll appear and he can again relish in your devoted love.

But that doesn't happen. A day goes by, then another, and before he knows it, two weeks pass by with no appearance of you. It's noticeable to everyone that something has been irking Yuji. He smiled a little less and always responded with short answers.

The more noticeable change was the absence of the curse within him. Now that he thinks about it, Yuji doesn't remember Sukuna appearing or talking to him ever since you had appeared in his dreams. The king of curses had been quiet and seemingly lurking in the depths of his soul.

There was one moment that Yuji remembers (more like his body remembers). The moment that you had left with Uraume, he remembered a deep pull from the bottom of his soul. A rough tug that told him he needed to go to you now. The sharp pull then fizzled out as his body turned the opposite way.

"So, what's bothering you, Yuji?" Satoru asks, his bright blue eyes filled with curiosity hidden behind his trademark blindfold. Yuji jolts from the sudden question as he looks up from his phone. An unsure feeling fills his stomach before he sighs and confides in his teacher.

"There's this girl."

"Oh?" There's a teasing tone as Satoru smirks. Yuji's cheeks flare up as he quickly shakes his head.

"It's not how you think it is," he says. "I don't know her." Okay, now Yuji's just talking nonsense, Satoru thinks. "She started showing up in my dreams a while ago, but she hasn't appeared in a like long time."

"Oh?" Satoru says, and it's different this time. He's intrigued by Yuji's confession.

"It's like I know her, but I don't at the same time," Yuji adds. Satoru hums and runs a hand through his snow-like hair. A second passes before he snaps his fingers and makes finger guns at his student.

"You don't know her, but someone else does," Satoru concludes, and Yuji's eyebrows furrow. Why is his teacher always speaking in a metaphorical way? It isn't until Yuji feels something shift on his cheek. A single eye surfaces underneath the teen's left cheek and glares at the white-haired male, warning him not to dig any deeper.

23:14, Dogenzaka, In Front of Shibuya 109

Your lips are parted in awe as you stare at the crater of destruction before you. Even now, in modern times, Sukuna's destruction has always left you breathless, in awe of the beautiful chaos left behind.

A gust of wind comes from behind you, and you turn to look. 'He looks different,' you think, your eyes meeting four ruby-red ones that have always sent warmth through your body.

As he steps towards you, a smirk makes its way to Sukuna's face. A single hand (he has two arms instead of four. a fact that makes you question if you like this change) caresses your face, and you snuggle into the warmth of your lover's hand.

"Be sure to savor this, brat," is all Sukuna mutters as his red eyes give way to brown ones. His hand falls from your cheek, and Yuji's eyes are wide in horror.

He takes in your captivating form, smiling at him and the mass destruction behind you. His hands come up to clutch at his face as shaky breaths leave his lips. Memories of Sukuna's destruction fill his mind, and he falls to his knees.

A groan leaves him as he empties his stomach onto the ground before him. Tears start falling from his eyes as he screams his lungs out. Chants of 'die' and 'only me' fill the air as you continue smiling at him.

His cries die down in volume while you kneel down, your traditional, thin kimono becoming stained with his puke. Your welcoming arms wrap around his shoulders as you pull his figure into yours, your neck becoming damp with his tears.

"Welcome home, my love."

taglist: @aish777 @chuuberrysworld @reigenation @shegetsburned @destroyer-of-za-warudo @darkcowboypirate @cunisna @reverrieee @hotpossumjam @nnasv @sunshinesetsstuff @smolgojo

#sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #yuji x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk spoilers #jjk x reader #sukuna ryomen #itadori yuuji x reader #yuji itadori

[band--psycho]

Fred Weasley x Reader-Just Friends

Inspired by the song Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello

This is a lot longer than I had originally planned, but I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Warnings:Smut/Teasing (18+)

“Earth to Y/n,” my friend Lucy snapped her fingers in front of my face, knocking me out of my daydream.

“Sorry,” I mumbled an apology, taking a mouthful of my food to try and act normal, as well as distract myself from the thoughts that were racing through my head. 

“Where’d you go?” My other friend, Charlotte, questioned; eyebrows raised quizzically. 

“She was probably thinking about Fred Weasley” Lucy teased with a small smirk, seeing straight through my act. 

“Why would I be thinking about Fred?” I countered, trying to keep my tone neutral so that Lucy would think that she was wrong. 

Lucy shook her head briefly before taking a bite of her toast; she knew how close Fred and I were, but we were just friends. Though the look that was showing in her eyes when they meet mine, said that she wasn't fooled by answer, especially when her eyes glanced down at the hickey on my neck that I had tried so hard to cover, “You know why, or were you with someone else last night?” 

Damn it.

Last night.

The memories flashed in my brain like a dream. 

The way Freds hands explored every inch of my body; the way his smirk grew on his face when I moaned his name as he pounded into me, his lips, the fiery lust burning in his eyes…

The way he made me feel a way no one else ever had. 

A small scoff left my lips,as I tried to ignore the dampness forming in my panties just at the mere thought of last night, “Fred and I are just friends.”

Just friends. 

That’s all we were. 

That’s all we were. I kept mentally repeating that to myself, reminding myself of what we were. 

Last night was the first time we’d slept together, and maybe if that was it then reminding myself that we were just friends wouldn’t be so hard.

But it wasn’t just about last night; it was about how he’d been toward me since the school year started, and how I had been with him.  

The many times we’d almost kissed; in the library, in the common room, down by the boathouse. The way our eyes lingered on one another just a few seconds too long for friends…and the way that no matter how many times I told myself to put some distance between us, I never could. 

Because I wanted more; I had since the first time we almost kissed.

I wanted him. 

I wanted to be his. 

I wondered if I would have still felt this way had I been sorted into Slytherin; would we have even been friends? Would we have even acknowledged each other? Or would we just be strangers to one another? 

Part of me thought that that would be easier; for our paths to have never crossed. 

My family hated him and his family; and if they got wind that I had feelings for him..well it wouldn’t be good, for either of us. 

Charlotte opened her mouth slightly, as if she was about to ask a question, but before she could I heard footsteps walking behind me; that’s when I saw who it was.

Fred. 

I spent the rest of the morning unable to shift the ache in my chest. 

Fred and I are just friends; those words kept replaying in my head. 

I didn’t want that. 

I didn’t want to just be ‘friends’ with him; but maybe this was for the best. 

I just needed to make sure nothing else happened between us; I just needed to keep my distance from him. 

Thankfully, Fred and I didn’t really have many classes together until tomorrow, so I could at least avoid him for the rest of the day. 

Care of Magical Creatures was my last class for today, and despite the chill in the air I decided to wander into the forest; mainly so that I didn’t have to see Fred but also so I could clear my head and avoid any more questions from my friends.

But my mind couldn’t help but think about last night…

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this, love?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over mine as he slowly thrusted a finger inside of me, “How long I’ve wanted you.”

He’d been teasing me for what felt like hours, first with his fingers, then his tongue, then both until he finally started fucking me with his cock. 

I practically jumped out of my skin when I felt one hand cover my mouth as the other pulled on my waist. 

I was going to scream, that was until I saw a flash of ginger hair, followed by an all too familiar voice, “It’s just me, love.”

“Fred, what are you doing?” I snapped, the adrenaline still burning in my veins. 

“You’ve been avoiding me,” his words weren’t a question, they were a statement. 

I could see the hurt lingering in his eyes as the words left his lips, and it hurt like hell, seeing him sad because of what I’d done. 

But it was for the best; that’s what I kept telling myself, yes this was painful, but nowhere near as painful as if things continued between us.  

I didn’t answer his statement. 

I just began walking away. 

Distance. That’s what we needed, what was best for us. 

And that’s what I had to put between us.

Though I didn’t get very far before his hand was wrapped around my wrist and I was pushed up against a tree, his other hand next to my shoulder, barricading me against the tree. 

The chill that once floated in the air was all but eradicated in that moment; all that I could feel was the heat radiating between the two of us. 

“So we’re just friends, huh?” 

His tone was darker than a few moments ago; and I could see the anger flickering in his eyes.

“Just friends?” he repeated, his lips inches from mine. 

Oh how I wanted to kiss him. 

To just say fuck everything as close the distance between us. 

I was hanging onto the last strands of the rational side of my mind when I nodded and said “Just friends,” though my voice was certainly not as confident as I had intended, 

“You sure about that, love?” 

I was trying to think of an answer, and then the hand that was next to me on my thigh.

I let out a quivering breath as I felt his hand go higher and higher, until he was so close to the place I craved him. 

I was soaked, I knew that already. 

I was a mess and he’d barely done anything to me yet and yet all I craved was for more.

His lips, his hands, they were making it impossible for me to think clearly. 

I glanced up into his eyes and I saw the same glint as last night; he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and he was loving it.

“You say we’re just friends,” he continued, his voice low and barely above a whisper, “but friends don’t know the way you taste..” 

A small whimper left my lips before I could stop it, which only made a smug smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“And you, love,” he continued, pressing his body closer to mine, so that I could feel just how hard he was, “taste fucking divine,”

All rationality had left my mind as I finally closed the distance, crashing my lips onto his; my free hand tugging at his ginger locks in an attempt to deepen the kiss. 

“Just friends?” Fred chuckled breathlessly before lightly pecking my lips,

“Meet me tonight at our usual spot” 

I couldn’t help but frown at his words.

I needed him. 

Now. 

I needed to be fucked and the denial he had just given me made my pussy ache with pure desire.

Another chuckle left his lips as his hand softly caressed my cheek, “I’ll give you what you want, baby, don’t worry.” 

And with that he released my wrist and walked away from me, leaving me a breathless, wet, needy mess against the tree.

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @gloryekaterina @yn-ymn-yln@darthwheezely @jamie-lee666 @megaprincesscakes @skyofficialxx @beeroses @amaryllis23 @aboukie @munsinner @little-diable @girl-next-door-writes @the-chaotic-cow @camilyb @justreadingficsdontmindme @malfoys-demigod @misshale21 @msmarvelknight @it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream @invisible-ninja @meteora-fc @howlingmadlady @daedreams @jazzyllemmon @realandloud @alexxavicry @onyourgoddamnleft @annajona @myaloveee @instabull @simonsbluee @pappydaddy @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley smut #harry potter era imagine #harry potter era imagines #hp fred weasley

[thestarstoasun]

Will and Naomi Solace don't normally celebrate Easter considering the whole she slept with a Greek god, had a demigod child but could only tell her small-town religious family that she had a one nightstand and got pregnant thing. She had been told they still loved her but was still publicly shamed and shunned until she got famous for her music.

Will didn't think his grandparents, uncles, or aunts deserved his mom in their lives after what they put her through, but he figured if she could forgive them, he could too. Except they didn't know he was bisexual. They didn't know about Nico. Will had been all too willing to tell his sweet, loving, adoring mother about his boyfriend. He made sure Nico knew when he first brought it up that there was no rush, and just like when it came to everything, he was willing to wait forever. (Nico had actually stared at him in disbelief, and with the oh-so-noticeable red splashing across his pale skin muttered a quiet, "Idiota". Will didn't need to be fluent in Italian to know /that one/, even when he first heard it.)

Introducing Nico to his mother was a mistake, not because of any homophobia or monster attacks, but just how much they both love to embarrass him. His mother shares stories and shows pictures (which Will panics about because technology and demigods don't mix well) of a much younger and embarrassing Will, and by the look in Nico's eyes Will knows he is never living it down. In return, his mother learns of his embarrassing flirting in the middle of a war.

The memory was nice now, a year and a half later, especially since Will was currently on the verge of an entire mental breakdown. Being back in Texas had that effect on him. At camp, he locked away all panic, grief, loss, suffering in order to run the infirmary and be strong for his siblings, but here, he had no infirmary and no siblings. He could honestly care less of what these people thought of him - Lee's opinion had mattered, Michael's opinion had mattered, His mama's opinion matters, Nico's feelings and opinion matters. Hades, he cares more for Apollo's opinion than these people, and he was still struggling with his own complicated feelings towards his father - not that they ever showed outwardly.

Will was more worried that these people that shared blood with him would shame his and Nico's relationship and upset his boyfriend. Nico had suffered so much pain and suffering already, especially when it came to his sexuality and accepting that there wasn't anything wrong with himself for loving boys. Will was so proud of how far Nico had come and felt sick to his stomach at being an indirect cause of a relapse.

"You worry too much," The words sounded so beautiful that they must have been spoken by an angel. (They weren't, they were spoken by none other than Nico Di Angelo, but what can he say, he is Apollo's son. It is in his nature to be dramatic at least sometimes.)

"I don't think I worry enough. I mean, there is jus' so much that could go wrong. Mama-" Will shot Nico, who was failing to hide a wide smile, a curious expression unknowingly tilting his head slightly to the right. "What's so amusin' about this?"

"I think I finally understand what Lou Ellen meant when she called you a dog." Will stared blankly absolutely stunned out of his panic, his lips formed a small pout that was absolutely not adorable. Nico got up from where he sat comfortably on Will's bed and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's waist, resting his head on Will's shoulder. "Breathe. I'm already prepared to ditch this dinner and shadow-travel us both and your mother out somewhere nice at the slightest sign of trouble. Catholic guilt is a bitch, but I am done letting it, Gods, or anyone control my life."

Will felt both relieved and worried. Nico had learned so much about his boundaries with his powers over the last year, but it didn't mean Will didn't worry. "Is that why-?"

"Yes, that is why I slept so much today, il mio sole. Even before we left camp you were doing that nervous thing where you wrap bandages around your wrist. I figured something was bothering you and it had to do with our vacation. You love your mom, so it was obviously this dinner. I'm from the 30s, not an idiot, William, amore mio."

Will couldn't help but gently remove Nico's arm's from around him and sweep the boy off his feet. This frustrating, self-destructive, annoyingly attractive, smartass paid way too much attention to a simple healer such as himself, but Will couldn't imagine his life without Nico in it anymore. The half-hearted glare he received filled him with so much warmth and made him smile so wide it hurt, which in turn caused Nico to turn away to hide the slight upturn of his own lips.

#I honestly wrote this to cope with how awful my easter was #Should I continue this? Suffering and pain is always fun ig #will solace has daddy issues #its not canon #I just know that he does #will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #pjo #heroes of olympus #the sun and the star #percy jackon and the olympians #naomi solace #riordanverse #trials of apollo

[renecdote]

inertia

“Eddie.” He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie. “Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please— For BTHB: vehicular accident

[Read on AO3]

More than anything, Buck remembers the noise: the roar of the engine, a car horn, the squeal of tires, his heart pounding in his ears. Sirens, minutes and seconds later, and someone cursing at him before they got there, “you should look where you’re fucking going, fucking asshole motorbike riders—”

He knows that it hurt, his jeans shredded over bloody skin, his lip split, his arm broken in two places, every inch of him bruised and aching. He knows that it hurt because of course it did, it was probably agonising right up until the morphine kicked in, but he doesn’t remember the pain.

He wonders, now, how he ever could have forgotten it.

****

Eddie reaches out, fiddling with the radio until he finds a station he likes, then turning the volume up just one digit, as if that makes any kind of difference.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

Buck shoots him a grin. “I told you: it’s a surprise.”

Eddie huffs, the same way he did the first four times he asked and got the same answer. “I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t,” Buck laughs. “You just want everyone to think you hate surprises because you get embarrassingly gooey about them.”

The flash of a passing streetlight shows Eddie’s face cast in exaggerated affront. “Gooey,” he repeats. “I don’t—I’m not gooey, Buck.”

He is. Buck has the photos and videos to prove it.

“Don’t worry, Eds,” he says. “I think you’re cute when you’re gooey.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he turns his head and rubs at his cheek in a way that means he’s probably hiding a pleased little smile. It’s still new: making Eddie smile like that. Going on dates. Holding hands, and sneaking kisses in-between the engines, and waking up wrapped around each other. Buck wishes he could hit pause on every moment between them, just so he can live in it a little bit longer.

He slows down for a yellow light, coming to a stop as it turns red.

“Can you at least give me a clue?” Eddie tries.

“Nope,” Buck laughs. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Eddie grumbles.

The light turns green.

Buck accelerates into the intersection.

Eddie’s eyes widen in alarm, a shout forming but never making it past his lips, his hand half raised like he can—what?

Buck never even sees the crash coming.

****

The Jeep is still registered in Maddie’s name. That’s Buck’s first thought when the tires skid on the icy road, adrenaline suddenly pumping hard and fast as he grips the wheel. He’s going to end up wrapped around a tree, the Jeep totalled, and it’s going to be Maddie’s problem because the car is still registered in her name.

He has a sudden flash of memory: his mom standing in the doorway, yelling at him not to run, snow cold and wet soaking through the mesh in his sneakers as he ran to the bus stop down the road. She never came with him. It was always Maddie who held his hand while they walked, heavy backpacks bouncing on their shoulders, but his mom stood in the doorway of their house and watched until the doors of the school bus closed behind them.

Buck wonders who will tell his parents that he’s dead. Wonders how they’ll react. They’ll probably be glad, he thinks. And then he feels like an asshole for thinking that. (But can’t stop thinking it.)

The Jeep is slipping, slipping, slipping.

Buck fights the gut-reaction to twist the wheel hard, arms locked tight as he holds it steady, foot off the gas, braking carefully, carefully, carefully.

The road around him is dark. Empty. The Jeep’s headlights reflect off a sign: ICE in bold letters below the squiggly black lines of a skidding car. Hysterical, adrenaline-tinged laughter bubbles in Buck’s chest. Too little too late, he thinks. He turns the wheel left and the back of the car swings to the right and—

Another hundred yards and he would have been sinking into an icy river. Would have been dead, probably, pulled out in his Jeep hours or days later, his body cold and blue. He’s lucky, really, that the snowbank got to him first.

****

His ears are ringing.

There’s a little voice in the back of his head—the same voice that points out emergency exits and fire extinguishers whenever he goes somewhere new—that reminds him that it’s normal, that it probably just means the airbags deployed. But it’s hard to hear anything through the ringing, including the voice in his own head. Buck fights against the disorientation, the pain, the starbursts of light in his vision, the high-pitched whine in his ears and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He wonders, for three disoriented seconds, whether he’s back in the tsunami: turned around and upside down, caught in a whirlpool beyond his control, can’t win, can’t breathe, can’t swim.

But there’s blood in his mouth.

There’s blood in his mouth, and he clawed his way out of that ocean, clawed at the muddy ground, and Eddie got shot in the street in broad daylight, and—

“Eddie.”

He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie.

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please—

Something touches him.

Someone.

Hand on his thigh, squeezing, pulling his focus. Eddie. Buck’s right shoulder is throbbing—dislocated, maybe, minimum four weeks off work, light duty for another month—and he wants nothing more than to hold Eddie’s hand, to tangle their fingers together and squeeze (I’m okay, we’re okay, it’s gonna be okay), but the angle is all wrong and he can’t get his left arm across his body to do it.

His neck hurts, too—everything hurts—and that little first responder voice is still in the back of his head—don’t move, wait for the paramedics—but he turns his head anyway, searching for Eddie in the darkness.

There you are, Eddie’s smile seems to say.

Blue and red blur across Buck’s vision, pain streaking through his head, and he has to close his eyes against the rush of nausea it brings.

Eddie’s hand squeezes his leg again. Stay awake, maybe. Or I’ve got you, we’re okay.

Buck never should have closed his eyes. Can’t get them open again. Red-blue-Eddie-pain flash behind his eyelids.

He’s unconscious again before the firefighters pull them out.

****

Buck doesn’t remember most of the truck bombing. He watched the news clip twice after he got home from the hospital, pieced together all the comments people made until they formed some kind of coherent picture, guessed at the rest of it from everything else he’s seen on the job. He knows Eddie held his hand. Knows he was trapped there for almost thirty minutes before they got him out. Knows that it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t remember all the details. The night is all blurred colours, and fear, and the strangest feeling of being weighed down and floating at the same time.

It felt like that in the hospital afterwards too, the cast on his leg bulky and heavy, a weight more than physical, and the painkillers cushioning his mind from all of it.

“You’re lucky,” a doctor told him, scrawling notes on his chart. “Most people don’t walk away from something like that.”

Buck laughed, short and brittle, halfway to a sob. “I’m not walking, doc. I can’t even stand.”

“Yet.” The doctor had the nerve to smile as he said it. “We’ll get you there.”

Buck was only thinking about getting back to work, then.

Now he wakes up in the hospital and he’s back there for one half-conscious moment, his leg his first thought, panic washing through him, his breath sticking in his chest. A doctor leans over him, mouth moving as they ask him muffled questions, his ears aching, head aching, everything aching.

“Don’t take my leg,” Buck begs, his own voice echoing in his chest.

The lights are bright and the doctor is still talking, maybe to him, maybe to someone else, but it doesn’t matter. Buck can’t hear them anyway.

He slips back under.

Wakes up again minutes or hours later to find someone else beside the bed. Short-cropped brown hair, but the wrong shade. The wrong face attached to it. A question catches in the back of Buck’s throat—Eddie? Is Eddie okay?—and comes out as a groan, pain waking up with the rest of him, his body stiff and sore at the slightest movement.

Bobby’s head snaps up, one hand going for the call button, the other for Buck’s arm. “Hey. Hey, easy, kid, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital.”

Buck blinks and finds his lashes sticking together, tears welling up before he even knows why he feels like crying.

“Eddie is okay too,” Bobby adds, reading it on his face. “He’s better off than you are—mostly superficial cuts and bruises, possible cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, whiplash—they’re just keeping an eye on him until they can run some more tests to be sure.”

It should be a relief, hearing it from Bobby, but Buck knows the vice around his chest isn’t going to ease fully until he can see Eddie for himself. Maybe not even then, honestly, since it’s at least half from the broken ribs he’s nursing.

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says, and it’s hard to tell through the fog of painkillers, but it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as Buck.

****

The wave comes fast and hard, knocking the breath out of him, sending him tumbling. Buck tries to hold onto his surfboard, but it slips away from him, the cord velcroed to his ankle the only thing tethering them together while the ocean does it’s best to tear them apart.

He gets his head above the surface, gets one gasping breath of air, and then the board pops up and slams into his jaw. He goes under. Comes back up coughing and spluttering, his face throbbing. He doesn’t get a full breath in this time before another waves lifts him up and then bowls over him. It’s easier not to fight it. Easier to hold his breath and let it take him.

A hand around his bicep drags him back up. Drags him into the shallows and then further, onto the damp edge of the beach.

“Jesus, Buckley,” Andy exclaims, halfway to nervous, adrenaline-fueled laughter. “I really thought you were dead for a minute there.”

Buck grins, tired and squinting against the bright San Diego sun, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, right? He’s supposed to laugh and shake this off and get right back out there.

“I wasn’t worried,” he lies, and Andy does laugh this time.

“You’re a crazy sonuvabitch, you know that?” he says. Then he’s twisting, turning to yell at someone behind him, “He’s fine, Lila! The asshole says he wasn’t even worried!”

Lila kisses Buck later, her purple nails biting in at his hips, beer heavy on both their breaths. A fire crackles in the backyard and party music thrums in the walls of the house when she says, “I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you, Evan.”

Buck’s chest feels tight, his stomach bubbly, his jaw bruised and aching, but he holds Lila close and kisses her back, gives her everything she wants, even when being kissed on the cheek and left to zip up his pants afterwards feels just like that surfboard popping up out of the water to smack him in the face. It’s supposed to hurt after all. Being wanted. Being loved. It always hurts. Isn’t that how he knows that it’s real?

****

“You’re like a car crash, Buckley,” Jai tells him. “It’s all fast and fun until we end up wrapped around a tree.”

****

“You need to be more careful,” his mother snaps, as close as she has ever come to sounding like she cares. “You’re going to get someone killed one of these days.”

****

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says.

Gonna be fine gonna be fine gonna be fine.

****

Buck is awake when Eddie sneaks into the hospital room.

Half-awake.

Morning light is pressing in insistently behind the blinds someone pulled down over the window and there’s an itch right near the IV port in his elbow that he’s trying not to think about. Buck’s eyes are closed, but he listens to the shuffle of feet on the linoleum, the plastic groan of the chair beside the bed and the quiet, familiar sigh as his boyfriend settles into it. All he has wanted since finding himself in the hospital is to see Eddie, but now that Eddie is here, Buck doesn’t think he’s ready to face him.

His elbow itches. Buck tires not to grimace.

Eddie reaches out and takes his hand, warmth curling around Buck’s cold fingers. “I know you’re awake,” he says, thumb moving on the back of Buck’s hand.

Slowly, Buck opens his eyes, painkillers cushioning the ache in his neck as he turns his head on the pillow. He has to blink a few times before the room comes into focus: tired eyes, short-cropped hair, right shade of brown this time.

“Hey,” Eddie smiles. “There you are.”

Eddie looks—okay. A little bruised, a little battered, but okay. Buck takes a shaky breath and feels it fill up his lungs for the first time since that car slammed into them. Hey, he thinks, and then he opens his mouth and what comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

A watery laugh; the kind that means something isn’t really funny but the only options are to laugh or cry. “I shouldn’t be surprised that those are your first words,” Eddie says, and his smile is watery too but it’s also—fond. So fond it hurts to look at. “This wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

Buck knows that. Logically, he knows that. But.

“I’m still sorry.”

Eddie lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles, holding Buck there against his lips as he answers, “I know.”

“You’re okay?” Buck asks—needs to ask—blinking through the tears in his eyes. “Bobby said you broke your wrist.”

Eddie lifts his left arm up to show off the cast. “Clean break, no surgery required. One fractured rib. Whiplash. The rest of it is just cuts and bruises.”

Buck has to bite his lip so he doesn’t apologise again.

“We’re okay, Buck,” Eddie adds, soft and steady, and Buck knew they were, he thought he did, but hearing the words puts a lump in his throat anyway.

“The light was green,” he says, and he’d been sure, so sure, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was distracted. He knows he can be a reckless driver, but Eddie was in the car and he was smiling and Buck would never—

“The other driver went straight through the red,” Eddie confirms, soothing his doubts as easily as he caresses Buck’s hand with his thumb. “Bobby said it was a heat attack. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Buck thinks about that sign in Wisconsin: ICE. He wonders whether they’ve moved it, put the warning somewhere earlier on the road. Wonders whether it would have made any difference, seeing that sign before the tires started skidding.

He wants to ask if the other driver made it, but he’s not sure he actually wants to know.

“‘M still not telling you where we were going,” he says instead, fighting against the droop of his eyes. “Being t-boned doesn’t get you out of the surprise.”

“It wasn’t a steakhouse, was it?” Eddie asks.

A laugh catches Buck by surprise, spasming through his bruised chest, and he breaks off with a groaning, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, squeezing his hand. “How’s your pain? Do you need more painkillers?”

“‘S’okay,” Buck answers, shifting and feeling all the ways his body protests. “I’ve had worse.”

Edie shakes his head. That’s not a measure of pain, Evan, Maddie would say. Buck can see it on Eddie’s face too, but he just says, “Okay. Why don’t you get some rest?”

He shifts up, slowly and painfully, leaning forward until he can kiss Buck’s forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. Buck curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, holding him there to kiss him again. Eddie relaxes into it, kissing back easily, his weight a comfortable heaviness against Buck’s tired body.

“I love you,” he murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck smiles. “I love you too.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

It hurts to shake his head, but Buck does it anyway. “No, you should go home—you should see Chris—”

Eddie stops him with another kiss. “Chris told me I have to stay with you. Pepa is looking after him, he’s okay.”

That lump is back in Buck’s throat, harder to breathe around this time. He’s not sure what he did to deserve the Diaz boys. He isn’t sure that he does deserve them, half the time, but here they are anyway. They want him—they love him—and it doesn’t hurt. That’s how Buck knows it’s real.

When he sleeps, he dreams of driving across a frozen lake, Eddie smiling in the passenger seat and Christopher laughing in the back. The sunlight is bright and clear and he thinks there’s a monster chasing them under the ice, threatening to break through and drag them into the murky depths, but it never catches them.

****

Buck’s arm flies out on instinct, pressing Christopher back into the seat while the car jerks to a sudden stop.

“Whoa.” Christopher’s eyes are wide behind his glasses. “That was close.”

Buck’s heart is racing in his chest, his hands shaking with the frissons of adrenaline running through his body. He breathes a shaky laugh, more relief than amusement. “Too close. Don’t tell your dad.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “As if you aren’t going to tell him as soon as we get home.”

The kid has a point, but.

“Maybe I’ve decided to start keeping secrets.”

“About almost being in a car crash?” Chris asks skeptically.

The car in front of them inches forward and Buck lets the gap grow before he eases his own accelerator down.

“Almost is the key word there,” he tells Chris, lighter than he feels. He’s still jittery, hyperaware of every sound, every glint of sunlight on metal that might be a car about to t-bone them or rear-end them or cause an accident in a million other ways. Buck knows car accidents. He knows what it’s like to cause them, to get caught in them, to respond to them. He knows that, statistically, it’s likely Chris will be in some kind of accident at some point in his life. He really, really doesn’t want to be the reason that happens though.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, attention back on his phone, completely unconcerned, “LA has one of the highest accident rates in the country so it probably wouldn’t even be your fault.”

Buck frowns. “Why do you know that?”

“You and dad were in a car accident last year,” Chris shrugs, like the answer should have been obvious. “I looked it up.”

Eddie isn’t in the car with them, but Buck can hear his voice clear as day in his head: he gets that from you, you know.

“Okay,” he says, “definitely don’t tell your dad you’ve been reading about car crash statistics. You know what he was like with the Zodiac killer stuff.”

Chris grins. “He was so mad at you.”

They’re at a standstill again. Buck takes the opportunity to throw Chris a betrayed look. “I seem to remember him being pretty mad at you too, kid.”

He can feel himself relaxing, heart rate coming down and tension draining out his shoulders. Chris is fine. They’re both fine. Another fifteen minutes and they’ll be home. He flicks on the indicator then checks his blind spot twice before changing lanes as the traffic breaks out of the bottleneck and starts moving again. The blue Toyota they almost ran into turns into another street and disappears.

“So,” an impish smile in his peripheral vision, “if I’m keeping secrets from dad, does that mean we can have ice cream for dinner?”

Buck laughs. “Nice try.”

The engine is a steady rumble, its vibration passing through the wheel and up his arms, settling in his chest. Christopher reaches out and skips to the next song on the driving playlist. Sunlight glints off a stop sign. Somewhere behind them, a car honks. 

Buck breathes in. Breathes out.

They make it home in thirteen minutes.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Don't care if it sounds cold. It is, what it is.

Bucky x POC!Reader, Ex!Steve x POC!Reader

Wordcount: 1394

Summary:

Steve returns 3 years after he left for the past. Wanting the life he had with you before back without consequence. Too bad you’ve moved on with someone he least expected.

Warnings:

Angst and Feels, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers Feels, Hurt Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Protective Bucky Barnes, Exes, Sad and Sweet, Sweet Bucky Barnes, Moving On, Lovers to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Abandonment, Domestic Avengers

Notes:

Hello Heathens! Woke up feeling angsty, with a mighty need to finish this dialogue heavy drabble I started last week. Happy reading!

You’re preparing lunch in your modest kitchen, singing and dancing along to the music flowing from your bluetooth speaker, when there’s a knock on the door. Knowing Bucky can easily hear it and you're currently preoccupied you leave him the task of answering it. You listen to the door opening and murmurs of speech for a couple moments before it closes again and two sets of footsteps can be heard heading your way.

“Sam, what have I told you about at least texting before you come over.” You look up from the island, expecting to find a grinning Falcon before you but are caught off guard by the imposing form standing under the archway. “Steven?”

“Hey, doll.” He takes a step forward as you close your eyes, shaking your head to relieve you from the vivid hallucination that is taking up space in your home. It isn’t until Bucky places his cool metal hand on top of yours, giving it a squeeze, that you dare to open them again. 

“What are you doing here? And most importantly why ? You went after your happily ever after. You shouldn't be here.”  You blurt out, disbelief showing on your face. Bucky without hesitation makes his way to your side of the island, showing his support and making sure to be within arms reach if you need him. 

“It wasn’t quite as happy as I imagined it would be.” You watch his adams apple bob as he swallows. “All I wanted for so long was to have a do over with Peggy. So the first chance I had to fulfill that dream, I took it.” He places his hands on the island. “It was good at the beginning, but I couldn’t get you out of my head.” He locks eyes with you. “We barely spent any time together after a while. She was always working. Trying to better the world, leaving me alone with my memories of you. I found myself seeking out pieces of you in her. They always fell short. No one loved me like you. I wanted that back. So I decided I needed to come home.”

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, tears brimming your eyes as you hand Steve a dose of painful truths. "What we had was special Steven. I'll admit that. But it wasn't enough for you. I wasnt enough for you. Your head was always full of the what ifs. Your heart was never fully mine to begin with. I thought that as time went on, that my portion was growing in size. How wrong was I to believe such things.” A lone tear falls from your eyes. 

“I'm a firm believer of actions speaking louder than words. You leaving me behind for a chance with her that day was all the reality I needed. It broke me. You broke me. Honestly if it weren't for Bucky, Sam and Clint’s family I don’t think I would have had the will to endure all that pain. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I wanted to not exist so I wouldn't have to feel the pain of being abandoned for a ghost of your past. I was real, Steve. I was there. I gave you the pieces of me I hadn't shared with anyone else before and you took all of that for granted. And now you're back and expect that love to still remain intact.” 

Your heartache seeps through your words, coating it in poisonous barbs, to protect what remains of the vulnerable organ. Bucky, your lover and loyal protector, moves in closer, wrapping his flesh arm around your waist, grounding you. “You have got to be kidding me. Even if I wasnt with Bucky, I wouldn’t take you back. Not after 3 years and having to rebuild myself. My standards have changed and you don’t meet them anymore.”

It’s as if your words delivered a swift punch to the gut for him as he lashes out with vitriol lacing his tongue. “And he does? My best friend. I always knew you had feelings for her. You couldn't wait to swoop in as soon as I was gone could you.” He has a white knuckle grip on the marble as he stares down the man he’s always trusted with his life.

Bucky just nods his head in disbelief as he replies. “I'm the bad guy, Steve, really?” He pulls you in closer to his side, done with the niceties. “If you must know. We didn't even broach anything near romantic until almost a year after you left us BOTH behind.” 

He clenches his jaw as he gets that possessive glint in his eyes and you know he’s not going to hold back. “When it finally happened, a natural progression if you will, there was no turning back. She became mine, as I became hers. It was fucking magical. She always came for me. On my fingers. On my tongue. Clamped tight around my cock like a vice. Squeezing the life out of me.” He husks, ghosting his metal fingers across your collarbone. “I helped her forget about the pain you caused when you left her behind for the past. I gave her an outlet for that agony. We sank into the darkness of our loneliness together. Don’t tell me that didnt mean something. Don’t be that daft Rogers. Our love for each other is bone deep.”

Steve stares at the both of you, a loss for words.

“Mama” comes over the monitor sitting behind you on the counter. You turn to see your daughter standing in her crib having woken from her nap. She continues on trying to get your attention, “Mama”, “Dada” the only words you can make out from the babble.

“I’ll get her.” Bucky kisses your temple and proceeds down the hall.

“You have a baby?” Steve chokes. “How old?”

“She’s 15 months old.” You state.

“So, she’s not mine.” He whispers out.

“Not a chance pal. She’s all mine.” Bucky beams as he walks back into the kitchen, your daughter Amara on his hip.

“You never wanted kids with me Steve. Certainly not towards the end. Why would you think she was yours?” You ask.

“Wishful thinking I guess.” He looks over at the sweet cherub face cuddling up against her fathers chest. “She’s beautiful.”

“Bug, want to say hello?” Bucky asks his daughter, a hand running up and down her back.

The toddler eyes Steve and squeaks out a “Hi.”

“Hello sweetness. You look just like your Mama, but with your Dada’s eyes. Such a lucky girl.” You watch as his shoulders slump. “I screwed up royally. I acted before thinking, once again, and look at what it cost me. Everything I ever really wanted was always right here with you and now I’m going to have to watch it from the sidelines instead of being the one to share them with you.” A lone tear rolls down his cheek. 

He wipes it away. “I know it’s not much, especially now. But for what it’s worth, I’m Sorry. Truly and deeply.”

“I know you are Steve.” You reassure him.

“We both do.” Bucky adds.

“I don’t hold it against you, ya know.” You impart, placing a hand on his. “If you didn't put me through all of that pain I never would have ended up here, with a life I never could have dreamt of. It’s not perfect, but that’s the point. It works for us and we’re happy. This home is full of so much love and communication. I had to be knocked down to know what I really needed in life. The things I wouldn't settle for. The things I deserved. I hope you can find that one day Steve. I really do.”

“Thanks, doll. I’m pretty sure that ship has officially sailed for me though.” He straightens himself out, Captain persona put back in place.

You give Bucky a look as he places Amara in her highchair. You can’t leave Steve in this state. No matter the pain he caused all of you, there is still love in your heart for him. “Stevie, would you like to stay for lunch?”

“I know Bug would love to get to know her Uncle Stevie.” Bucky states.

You watch a small smile emerge on his face. “I would enjoy that very much.”

#poc reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #light angst #ex steve rogers

[teacasket]

betty

genre: angst with a happy ending au: high school au warnings: swearing word count: 0.6k   pairing: gn!reader x lee minho song: betty by taylor swift mini series: cruel summer // august // betty // cardigan // the 1 a/n: the reader in this is not the same reader as cruel summer and august. this reader is minho’s ex and is also featured in cardigan.

I’M ONLY SEVENTEEN, I DON’T KNOW ANYTHING.

There’s an unfamiliar blue car parked underneath the maple tree in front of your house, and Minho sharply inhales as he drives past it. Up until three months ago, that was his spot. At every single party you hosted, his car would be parked there. It didn’t matter if he showed up late; all of your friends knew that the maple tree was reserved for Minho. Boyfriend privileges.

He misses them. He misses you, of course, but as he scans the block for any open space, he really misses being your boyfriend.

He heard about your back-to-school party secondhand from Dahyun of all people, the same person who told you what happened in the summer. You didn’t send him an invite, but why would you? It still stings though. He should have been helping you set up for the party.

Buying stupid gold balloons that spell out “SENIORS.” Dumping chips into a bowl and sneaking in his favorite songs onto the party playlist. Kissing you whenever you purse your lips in contemplation. Just like last year.

He finally finds a parking spot near the end of the block. What will he say to you? The speech he planned suddenly feels wrong, and he can’t craft another one in the time it will take for me to reach your house. What does he say? How will you take it? Lost in thought, he swings his car keys around his index finger, nearly dropping them when he realizes that he’s standing on your porch. Muscle memory, he assumes. He has stood in this place so many times before.

The porch light is on, as if you expected his arrival, and two moths flutter around the glass. Muffled music and laughter can be heard through the walls. Before he can think about it any longer, he rings the door bell.

Cursed as he is, Dahyun answers the door. She blinks twice before shouting into the house, “Minho is here!”

Almost immediately, you appear in the doorway, a crowd backing you like an army. Your cardigan hangs off of one shoulder, and you hastily pull it back up as you take in the sight of him.

“Hi,” you say, your fingers limply waving hello. “What are you doing here?”

“Can we talk?”

“What do you want to talk about?”

He doesn’t want to do this in front of an audience, but you cling to the threshold for support. Three of your close friends huddle behind you, metaphorical teeth and claws bared.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, meekly. His shame increases tenfold as dozens of eyes bore into him. “I fucked up, and I don’t know how to fix it or how to make it up to you, but I want to. Tell me what I need to do, and I’ll do it. I’ll spend my whole life making it up to you if I have to. Please. You’re the only one for me. It’s only ever been you.”

“I know.”

Then you step onto the porch and kiss him.

He doesn’t care that everyone is watching or that Dahyun will tell the entire school on Monday. Normally he would, but the feeling of your lips on his again is better than he dreamed it. When you draw back, a shy, soft smile forms. His hands find yours.

“Let’s go for a drive?” you suggest.

“What about your party?”

You glance back at your guests, some of whom are recording with their phones. Your smile turns mischievous and God, he’s missed you. “They can handle it. C’mon.”

The walk to his car is long, but the drive is short because, at the next streetlight, he pulls over to pull you in for a longer kiss.

BUT I KNOW I MISS YOU.

#stray kids #skz #lee know #lee minho #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee know scenarios #lee minho scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho fluff #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee know angst #lee minho angst #stray kids au #skz au #non idol au #high school au

[missingmark]

― old habits die hard pt.1

Despite feeling your old crush on Matt return, you still offer to help him with his nail-biting problem. Old habits die hard, you guess.

‧₊˚ matt x fem!reader

‧₊˚ warnings: it's mentioned that the reader has painted nails & wore a dress to prom, slight angst, reader thinks she has a one-sided crush

‧₊˚ word count: 1.2k

‧₊˚ masterlist - (part 1.5) | part 2 | part 3

You liked to think that moments like this were reserved just for you and Matt alone. The soft blankets covering your bodies on his bed, a movie running in the back that you had both forgotten about, and your full attention on him.

His voice was calm and barely above a whisper as he rambled on about the video they filmed just a few hours prior.

When they had come back from filming, you were still sound asleep on Matt's bed. An abandoned homework still opened on your laptop as the yelling and laughing of the brothers announced them back home.

You got up to greet them and watched their faces light up at the sight of you still being here, nick quickly running over to you to give you a side hug before dashing past you to bring you something from his room while Chris walked past u towards the kitchen, giving you a quick peck on the side of your head as his form of acknowledgement

Matt's way of greeting you had always been a bit different, though.

You watched his shoulders relax at the sight of you, he let out a sigh that sounded tired but in a way that told you he was just exhausted from doing something he enjoyed putting his energy to.

His hand would find themselves slowly pulling at the material of your sweater into his arms. His face buried into your neck as he sought out the much awaited peave and comfort he could only find in your arms.

You hugged him back just as tight.

"Okay, you two. Get a room," Nick mumbled as he came back downstairs, an object in bus hand that you couldn't quite make out due to some of Matt's locks still blocking your view.

Much to his dismay, Nick peeled his brother off of you, pushing you towards the couch to show you what he had found.

"No way," you giggled, delicately takiny the framed photo that Nick wanted to show you from him.

You remembered that night so clearly, tracking your fingers over the picture you could almost feel the satin material of the dress you had worn that night. You're smiling, the genuine joy radiating off of your face too strong for you to try and nitpick a flaw of you.

You thought back to the dreadful day at the mall you and the triplets had spent months earlier to pick that dress. The way you instantly decided on the one that Matt seemed to have liked the most. His eyes lingering on the straps to the cut of it before finding their way back to your face, giving you a shy smile.

That picture was taken just minutes after he had first seen you wear it.

"You look beautiful," he said.

You smiled at the memory, giggling inside as you remembered your old crush on Matt.

"Look at the big ass zit Chris had that day," Matt pointed out, pulling you out of your thoughts and taking the picture from your hands.

"You shut up with that haircut, I don't wanna hear a thing from you," Chris mumbled.

"You gonna sleep in my room tonight? We can watch that movie we didn't fin-"

"No, all their stuffs already in my room also your room reeks," Matt protested, taking both you and the framed picture with him.

Nick, for once, didn't try to argue, knowing he wouldn't win when it came to you.

―

When the two of you were laying in bed, Matt had a tendency to start talking about anything that came to mind, occasionally he'd glance at you, making sure you were still paying attention to which you would give his hand an appreciative squeeze. After filming all day with his brothers, you knew Matt needed you to just give him your undevided attention, letting him speak freely without any interruption.

Until you started to hear his words turn into an incoherent mumble, the sound of biting making your head shoot up to look at him.

"Hey!" You spoke up for the first time in a while, slapping his hand away from his mouth and giving him a scolding look.

Matt had always asked you to stop him if you ever caught him biting his nails and despite your much appreciated effort, his habit didn't seem to fade.

"Im sorry," he apologized, the genuine guilt written on his face pulled at your heart strings.

"Don't be sorry," you murmured, "it's not your fault, 'kay?"

"I know, it's just," he leaned his head back a bit, a low groan escaping him, "I don't know, it doesn't bother me in itself, it bothers me more that I can't stop."

You understood. Sitting up a bit, you turned towards him.

"Hey, don't be upset, you just have to find something to do instead of biting your nails, you know? Like every time you get the urge to bite them, you can just play with my nails instead."

He hesitated, but reached for your hand nonetheless. You had just recently gotten your nails done and even when the two of you were still in school he had always had a strange fascination with them.

"...can I bite them?" He mumbled.

"I'd rather you wouldn't," you replied, skeptically.

"Can I rip-" he started to play with the edge of your long nails.

"Noooo," you protested again, pulling your hand away and shielding it with your other in front of your chest.

He smiled apologetically.

"Okay, okay, I was just kidding. C'mon, give it back."

He reached for your hand again, this time carefully tracing the glossy lair of nail polish with his thumb while the rest of his fingers held your hand up in his.

"You better not make me regret this, Matt. If you rip off one of my nails, I'll shave your head."

He ignored your threat, at this point way too entranced by you, the form of your fingers and the softness of your skin. The texture of the design felt fun under his fingertips, and he traced it almost subconsciously.

There was something weird and familiar bubbling up in your chest at the sight of him treating you so delicately. He looked up at you, a grateful smile graced his features as he leaned back down, placed your hand on his, and continued to trace your fingers with his others.

His eyes were back on the movie, leaving you to stare at his side profile with a thousand thoughts running through your head all at once.

At first, you felt warm, giddy, your stomach turning and your cheeks reddening and then an indescribable cold shiver, and the urge to scream into a pillow bubbled up inside you.

The TV illuminated his side profile, the small smile he had while watching. The way your hand seemed to fit so perfectly in his.

"Not this again," you scolded as his fingers tried to rip at one of your nails again.

He just smiled a bit, a slight hint of mischief behind his eyes.

"Don't be scared, I would never hurt you, would I?" He grinned.

You sighed. You were going to hold him to those words.

I wrote this in a daze 😨😨😨 anyway part two coming out soon (someone teach me how to write one shots I can't be controlled)

Next part will be in Matt's pov btw maybe? Who knows. But I have an idea where I want this to go. I think.

Anyway

Hope you enjoyed, luv u <3

#matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #fanfic #fanfiction #missingmark #sturniolo triplets x reader #sturniolo triplets x you #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturniolo triplets fanfiction

[bookshelf-in-progress]

Daughter of the House of Dreams: A Fragment

Author's Note: This is the opening to a long-abandoned "Sleeping Beauty" retelling that I no longer plan to write, but I still like it as a piece of prose, and it sparked my enduring interest in second-person narration, so it feels relevant, and why should long-dead authors be the only ones who get to have their unfinished fragments published?

If you ever travel to Monetta City, be sure to visit Faraway Lane. Walk past the glittering new shops, and the shoppers in their bright silk dresses and top hats, and you'll find a cozy stone shop at the end of the street. This shop isn't grand and mighty like the other shops. It won't sniff and turn you away if your clothes aren't the latest fashion. It's a grandmotherly old shop that shakes its head at the prancing and preening of the younger shops, and invites you in instead. It holds no wares in its windows; it hardly has windows at all. But it has a warm and wide wooden door, with a shingle hanging above—Alessia Day, maker of dreams.

Don't ponder the sign's message too long—it means exactly what it says. Just slip inside, shut the door behind you, and look. Don't breathe too deeply, unless you want a week of crazy dreams, but allow yourself one gasp of astonishment. You won't be able to stop yourself. No living person has failed to feel awe toward the rows and rows of shelves, longer than streets and taller than palaces, filled to bursting with glass bottles in such bright colors that the dresses in the other shops' windows would weep in envy. Some bottles are the size of thumbnails. Most fit comfortably in the palm. Some are as large as breadboxes or steamer trunks or carriage horses, but the shelves manage to fit them all. And each bottle is filled to the brim with dreams.

If you don't understand, ask Alessia Day. You'll find her at a counter half a mile from the door, polishing bottles and humming a song you've heard but can't remember. She's an old woman now, and proud of it, but squint your eyes and start to daydream, and you'll see her as I remember her—a willow-wand girl with shining brown hair and eyes that sparkle with half-formed jokes.

Tell this girl how pretty she is (she'll laugh and call you crazy) and ask about her dreams. She'll tell you of her stock and sell you any dream you ask for—daydreams and pipe dreams, dreams of love, dreams of adventure, dreams of loved ones lost and loved ones found and people you've never met but wish you had. She'll show you dreams of lush and perfect islands, dreams where fishes fly through the air, and dreams where people swim the seas with fishes' tails. She'll pull down dreams that last a second but linger a lifetime, dreams that fill a month of stormy nights, dreams that fade on waking and dreams that drown out memories. If you let her, she'll talk of dreams until you drift off, and she'll bottle up your dream while you doze.

But if you're smart (I know you are) you'll step to the counter with a clear glass bottle, empty of everything but air, and ask for her story instead. She'd distill it in a dream for you, and be glad to do it—I once saw her whip it up in half a minute, and I'll bet she's even faster now. Buy the dream, but don't drink it right away. You won't be ready for it. Linger in the shop a while. Hear the story first from Alessia Day's lips, in that voice of hers that's sweeter than singing.

You won't believe half of it, but when you stagger from the shop and wander the empty, starlit streets, you'll ponder over passages until you stumble into bed at sunrise. And when you wake, the world will be different—you'll see tiny footprints on the windowsills, know things about the shadows on the walls, tip your hat to creatures in the corner of your eye, and realize there is another color no one else can see. You'll laugh and call it your imagination, but every second Tuesday, you'll start to wonder if the old woman was right, if the things she told you were true.

If you drink the dream she made, you'll know. I'll understand if you don't—some things are easier not to know. But if you do, and dream through her story, come to my house and ring the bell. My man will let you in—he'll know you by the wonder on your face. He'll bring you to my study, set you in my oldest, softest chair, and get us both settled with a steaming pot of tea. Then, once you've finished babbling, I'll close my eyes and tell you my part in the tale.

#the bookshelf progresses #i had completely forgotten the story that this was supposed to be the prologue to #then over the weekend i found the plot summary again #it was actually pretty cool #it was about this girl whose family served as the most prestigious dream-makers in the nation #because they provide dreams to the famed cursed and sleeping princess #and then she discovers that the princess could have been woken a bunch of times over the century #but her family prevented it because they didn't want to lose their cash cow #and then of course she has to find a way to break the curse #i don't know why i thought having this random dude as narrator was the way to go #(unless the story morphed a lot between initial idea and whatever story i intended to write with this prologue) #he was probably in the prince role #and would marry the princess while remaining friends with alessia #beyond that i have no clue what i was going for #(also i don't think i would do the 'he teams up with this girl and marries someone else' plot if i did it today #because i hate marian halcombe situations where the hero develops a strong dynamic with his adventure partner #only to for some inexplicable reason marry someone pretty and boring) #anyway today's a day where i want to write and don't really have time to #so i'm just posting this instead

[little-big-boo-and-a-rat]

¡Spoilers for Clarence's Godheim route!

"You are a beautiful tragedy," Cael whispers, brushing the bangs away from her face, "Ready to unfold."

She stares at him with a mixture of fear and fury. They are alone in a void of white. Nobody can help her, and she doesn't attempt to escape.

His silver hair sways with the wind.

It hurts. His gentle indifference hurts.

His immaculate armor is unstained with the deaths of Godheim, yet she knows their despair is embedded in its gleam.

She thinks she might hate him.

(She thinks she does not.)

The cold is burning her face, shattering any semblance of familiarity in this scene.

She wishes his eyes would show any trace of remorse or pain for his actions. Any guilt at the misery he brought in this land.

Cael pretends he wants to get her back home safely, but she remembers how many times she lost herself in the freezing tundra, meeting her demise at the kisses of the Glacial butterflies.

What a liar.

His deep, infinite abyss eyes look at her shaking form, unwavering.

"I know it is unfair," he continues, as if he could read her mind, "The point of life is to grow through this unjust world. You may accuse and resent me, but you are making your own choices at the end of the day. Free."

"I am choosing my own Hell," she barks bitterly.

Cael shakes his head. His eyes seem to glitter.

"You are leading yourself through Hell to reach Paradise." he corrects.

"And yet you try to stop me."

Something flashes in his gaze.

She recalls thinking Cael is akin to a porcelain doll. Perfect in and out. Never too much, never too less. Emotions locked away to never affect his mission.

But this is somehow wrong, isn't it ? If he doesn't care, then why did he come to her ? Why is he allowing her to live and love and lose and disrupt his plan and always keep watching gently over her ? Why are his eyes, those profound amethysts that never seem to start and never to end, flickering like the moon's reflection on raging waters ?

Perhaps she's as much a liar as he is. Because the man standing before her, never getting mad, ready to accept every inch of her wrath, is anything but indifferent.

"Fate is cruel," she whispers.

Cael smiles. It feels like praise. It feels a little bit like himself.

"This is why humans are the most magnificent beings to dare to defy it with their inextinguishable hearts."

She breathes in deeply. Cael's hand leaves her hair. His armor becomes one with the snow. He looks like a ghost, a fantastical creature from another realm. He takes a step backward, gaze holding hers, yet inexorably disappearing.

"You are a beautiful tragedy," he repeats, "I can only hope your genre changes before it is too late."

She watches him blend with the scenery. He is like rain, she thinks, whenever you believe to reach it it fades in your grasp. She wonders if she will ever understand Cael.

She is rightfully bitter at him.

Somehow, she finds she does not blame him.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

"You are a beautiful tragedy," she whispers, holding Clarence's face in her hands with the gentleness of one carrying a unique treasure, "Who has unfolded all of its pages."

The Archmage blinks slowly, like a cat. Resting against the maple tree, he is barely awake. Even as she kneels, cradling his jaw, his sapphire eyes droop and fight against sleep. She is losing him. She can see the end of their journey coming near.

She refuses it. The stars may have repeatedly told her the truth, she prays until the end. She knows it will never come close to being enough. Thoughts don't change the world. Only actions can.

All they can do is travel the universe to the twilight of their story.

All they can do is bathe in each other's warmth and speak fragments of their beings. She longs for those memories to fill his dreams the day Clarence falls asleep forever.

With another slow blink, he raises his hand. Carefully, he picks a stray maple leaf from her hair. She almost cries at the gesture.

"Know," she continues, voice breaking, "That the stars are testimonies to your epilogue."

Clarence hums. He lets her speak her part. When silence stretches on, he breathes softly.

"I do not care for the stars," he says, putting the leaf on her knee, "I survived because of you. I fought for you. Truly, your gaze upon my story is enough. I do not need more."

And isn't it the worst thing in the world ? For the man she cares for in more ways than one, for whom she unknowingly traveled in time again and again and again and again for until she found him at last. The truth. The cold, soul-wrenching truth.

"You are a beautiful tragedy," she says, tears dripping down her chin, "And those never have happy endings."

His eyes are soft. Understanding. He isn't pleading for hope nor salvation, because he is aware he can never obtain neither. Her fingertips tremble. Her guts hold the guilt of sharing a piece of herself like never before, shaping one of the most precious bond of her existence, with the one she cannot save.

"I'm sorry," she chokes.

"I think," he starts, a small smile on his lips - so wise and so old and so lonely already - "It is time for the fairytale to go home."

And today, tragedy wears blue.

#Spotify #SoundCloud #for all time #game #lovebrush chronicles #otome #clarence #archmage clarence #writing #i cried doing this #cael #little painter #godheim #im living my life wondering why did it have to end this way #Clarence Clayden

[storiesforallfandoms]

putting it to better use ~ bucky barnes;marvel

word count: 2826

request?: yes!

“Can you write Bucky and his girlfriend have a steamy reunion after she got back from a mission and he puts his new metal arm from walk and a to good use”

description: when she returns from a mission to find her boyfriend has been deprogrammed and given a new arm, they decide to put it to better use than its original intent

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (choking, unprotected sex, pet names (doll)

masterlist (one, two)

When you left on your most recent mission, your boyfriend was still cryogenically frozen. You didn’t really have any intentions of returning to Wakanda for a while, figuring that Bucky would likely be asleep for some time.

So when you received a call from Shuri telling you that Bucky was starting his deprogramming and she was sure it wouldn’t take long for it to work, you wanted to jump on the first plane back to Wakanda right away.

The mission felt like it was taking much longer than usual, but finally you found yourself on the way back to the secret country where your boyfriend was hiding.

T’Challa and Shuri were waiting for you as you stepped off the plane. Normally, considering their royal status, you would bow a little or show some form of respect, but you only had one thing on your mind in that moment. You stepped off the plane and immediately asked, “Where’s Bucky?”

The royal siblings shared a knowing smile before Shuri said, “Follow me.”

She was telling you about Bucky’s deprogramming process, but you weren’t listening. You were distracted as you came closer and closer to Bucky’s hut. Your heart was beating so loud it was the only thing you could hear. You were almost certain this was all a dream and you were going to wake up back in your New York apartment, with Bucky still frozen all the way in Wakanda and no news on taking away his brainwashing.

You snapped out of your thoughts as you ran into Shuri. “Shit, sorry.”

She was smiling at you. “You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

You gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Shuri chuckled. “Don’t be. I understand you have other things on your mind.

“Shuri, I can’t thank you enough for helping him. I can’t thank all of you enough for all you’ve done.”

“No thank you is necessary. Truly, (Y/N), we’re just glad to have helped.”

At that moment, three children came running out of the hut, giggling as they ran up to Shuri.

“Are you playing around with that man again?” she asked, wrapping an arm around one of the children who hugged her.

Your eyes wandered to the hut as a familiar figure exited, draped in traditional Wakandan wear and a blue sling wrapped around his still missing right arm. Your heart did summersaults in your chest as his eyes met yours.

“(Y/N),” he spoke.

You snapped out of your trance and ran to him. He picked you up with one arm, holding you effortlessly with his Super Soldier strength. You pressed a desperate kiss to his lips, longing to feel his kiss after so long. You had almost forgotten the audience both of you had until Shuri cleared her throat.

You felt your face heating up with embarrassment as Bucky placed you back on the ground.

“I think we should leave them alone to catch up,” Shuri told the boys. To you, she added, “You know where to find us if you need anything.”

Bucky thanked Shuri again as he wrapped his arm around you. The four Wakandans left and Bucky brought you to the edge of the lake that his hut was overlooking. You both sat down facing each other and you could still hardly believe he was really here.

He still looked tired and worn, as he had the day he decided to go back on ice. You couldn’t imagine what he had gone through to try to get rid of the Hydra brainwashing, or the awful memories that he was now stuck with despite having been saved from that life. But in his eyes you could also see the relief at the fact that he no longer had to worry about accidentally being triggered and going rogue again. He was finally, truly free.

“I missed you,” you said, not sure what else to say to break the silence.

A small smile formed on his face. “I missed you, too. I thought you’d be back long ago.”

“I had a mission.” You chuckled a little. “Bad timing for Fury to decide I should get back into the field.”

“Tell Fury you’re out of the field for a while. I don’t plan on letting you go anywhere again any time soon.”

Your body felt fuzzy and light as he cupped your chin and leaned forward to kiss you again. You placed your hands on his shoulders, which was when you remembered that he was still one arm short. You pulled away from the kiss the gaze at the blue fabric over where his metal arm used to connect with his flesh.

“Shuri said she’s designing me a new one,” he replied to your unanswered question. “She wanted to make sure that I was fully deprogrammed before she gave me another indestructible death machine.”

You chuckled. “Probably for the best then. Any idea when you’ll be getting it?”

He shrugged. “She said she’ll have it soon, but I know she’s busy. She’s kind of royalty around here.”

Your hand slowly ran over the material wrapped around him up to his stubbly face. You cupped his cheek in your hand and he leaned into your touch. You had never seen Bucky look so carefree.

“I missed you,” he repeated.

“I’m here, now.”

He turned his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “And I’m not letting you go again.”

~~~~~~

Shuri and T’Challa came down to the hut a few days later with a large black box. They set it down and allowed Bucky the honor of opening it. Inside was his new metal arm; a sleek black color with gold in the crevices.

Shuri took the sling from over his arm, revealing the metal in his shoulder had been designed in a way that they could easily attach his new arm. She lifted the arm with some difficulty - not that she was going to let it show too much in front of her brother and two visitors - before it locked into the base of Bucky’s shoulder and attached itself. Bucky jolted slightly from the force, then took a moment to move and test the new arm.

“You are whole again, Sergeant Barnes,” Shuri said with a small smile.

“How does it feel?” you asked him.

“Feels easier to move,” he said. “Hydra had some access to the old one sometimes. They could lock it up on me, or it would lock up on its own. This one feels more free.”

Free. It felt nice to keep using that word.

“Nothing is connected to this new arm,” T’Challa assured him. “It is all yours to do whatever you want with.”

Bucky was looking down at his hand, opening and closing it into a fist a few times. You could see a hint of a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Thank you,” he said.

“It is our pleasure,” T’Challa responded. “You are both free to stay here as long as you wish as well. I understand going back to America after...after your past may come with some less than ideal circumstances, but here you will be free to live however you wish. The same goes for you, Miss. (Y/L/N). You are both our guests as long as you’d wish.”

“We really appreciate that, T’Challa,” you said. “If there’s anything we can ever do for you as well, please let us know.”

T’Challa chuckled. “Not to sound full of myself, but I am the king here. I do not think there is much either of you can do for me.”

You smiled at him. “Okay, touché. Call it a polite offer, then.”

The two left after making sure the arm was working fine. You watched Bucky as he continued to move it. He looked over at you and you smiled back at him.

“Congrats on the new arm.”

He chuckled. “Thanks. It’s nice to have two of them again. You don’t realize how necessary two arms are until you’re forced to do things with just one.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, playfully. “I think everyone knows how important two arms are, honey.”

He gave you a stern yet playful look. “Watch it, doll, or I’ll have to put this arm to use soon.”

His threat caused a fire to ignite inside of you. It had been a very long time since you and Bucky were intimate. You didn’t want to push him into it if he wasn’t ready, but there’d be no harm in testing the waters, right?

You moved to the edge of the bed where you had been sitting and gazed up at him, trying to look innocent as you did. “Maybe I want you to put it to use.”

His eyes widened and you could see his pupils dilating. You couldn’t help but smirk as he took a step closer. He started extending his hand towards you, but hesitated. You could see through his lust that he was debating on whether or not it would be a good idea to manhandle you with the metal arm. Before all of this, when you had both first gotten together, he would refuse to touch you with it in fear that he’d hurt you by accident, or he’d go into his Winter Soldier mode without warning and do worse than hurting you.

But you trusted now that he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew he would stop himself if he did. He wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. He was just Bucky; your Bucky.

You reached out and took his hand in yours, guiding it the rest of the way to wrap around your throat. You gasped at the feeling of the cool metal connecting with your throat.

Bucky’s breathing hitched. He seemed to hesitate again, but next thing you knew his metal fingers were tightening around your throat and he kissed you feverishly. You placed one hand on the back of his head, running it through his long brown locks. You tugged lightly at the back of his head, causing him to groan against your lips.

He pushed you down onto the bed and climbed over you. His hand was still firm around your neck, squeezing it just enough that you were feeling lightheaded. From where he was straddling you, you could feel his erection brushing against you.

“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” he admitted. “Ever since I woke up and Shuri told me they had called you, I’ve been thinking about having you underneath me again.”

You groaned as Bucky grounded his hips against yours, building friction between the two of you. You had been wearing a sundress that Queen Ramonda had given you when you arrived in Wakanda again, and Bucky made quick work of pulling up the dress so he could tease you through your panties. He let go of your throat only to move his fingers between your legs. Even through the cloth of your panties you could feel the cool of the metal, a sensation that made you feel even more turned on than before.

“I can tell you’ve been waiting for this, too,” he said. “The minute I made my threat I could smell your arousal. I guess having heightened senses really does come in handy sometimes.”

He had began rubbing slow circles into your clit. You whimpered as he pulled the straps of the sundress down, allowing your breasts to come free. He lowered his head to one breast, taking your nipple in his mouth as he kneaded at the other. You were writhing beneath him in pleasure. You hadn’t felt this good in such a long time. It had been so long since the two of you were intimate. You could feel desperate tears welling in your eyes, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside of you again after all these years.

“Please,” you whimpered.

He pulled himself from your breast and looked up at you. “What was that, doll?”

“Please,” you repeated. “God, please Bucky, I need to feel you inside of me. It’s been so long.”

He smirked at you. “Well, since you’re asking so nicely.”

You had to stop yourself from reaching out to him as he pulled away from you completely. You watched as he undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. He hadn’t been wearing anything underneath, so his erection sprang free immediately. It had been so long you had almost forgotten how big he was.

Almost.

He climbed back up on the bed and pushed your dress up around your hips. He pulled your panties to the side with one hand and lined himself up with your entrance. He looked up at you, almost like he was waiting for you to give him the okay. As a response, you bucked your hips upwards, pushing the tip of him through your folds. You both gasped at the contact. Bucky rocked his hips forward, completely filling you with his length.

He propped himself up on his elbows, pressing his body against yours but not completely laying down on you as to not crush you. You looked up into his steel blue eyes and found yourself easily getting lost in them. You ran your hands under his shirt and over the hot skin on his back. When he pulled out and thrusted into you again, your hands instinctively clawed at his back.

“Fuck,” he groaned, lowering his head to your neck. “You feel so fucking tight and warm. God, I’ve missed this pussy.”

He pepper kisses along your neck as he continued with his slow pacing. With every thrust inwards, his pelvis grinded against your clit and his dick poked at your G-spot. You really weren’t sure how long you were going to last like this.

When you and Bucky had been intimate before, he was always very cautious. Your whole relationship he had been cautious. He never wanted to hurt you and was always afraid he would by accident. And, while he was still being gentle now, he also seemed much less cautious. He was grounding his hips into you desperately, he was letting his hands wander and grab wherever he wanted on your body, his lips were harsh against your neck and every so often he’d nip at the sensitive skin as well.

It was like he was fucking you for the first time all over again, for the both of you.

As you predicted, it wasn’t long until you could feel yourself nearing your climax. “Fuck, Bucky. I-I’m close.”

“Please cum on my dick, doll,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me feel you let go around me.”

You called out his name in ecstasy as the wave of pleasure hit you. It wasn’t long afterwards that you could hear Bucky grunt and his dick twitch inside of you, signaling that he was nearing his end as well. You brought your hips up to meet his thrusts a few times before you felt him spilling himself inside of you.

He laid on top of you for a while, his head buried in your neck and your hands idly trailing up and down his back. The sun was shining in through the window, making things feel extra warm inside the small hut. You were almost reluctant to let him go, but you knew eventually he would have to so you could clean yourselves up.

When he did get up, there was a hint of a smile on his face and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“So,” you said, “what do you think of the new arm?”

He chuckled. “It’s definitely an improvement over the old one, I can tell you that.”

You watched him as he got up to put his pants back on and grab a cloth so you could both clean yourselves. When he caught your gaze, he raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“You seem so...happy,” you said. “Like genuinely happy. I love seeing you like this.”

He smiled as he sat next to you on the bed again. “I still have nightmares and I know the memories of what they made me do will haunt me for a very long time, but I’m trying to focus on the positives, like the fact that it’s finally over. I don’t have to worry about that anymore. I have you with me now, and I won’t ever leave you again. I plan on building a new life, whether it’s here or I go back to New York, but it’ll be a life with you either way. It’s hard to feel down when I keep thinking about that.”

You had always wanted a future with Bucky, but hearing him say it out loud made your heart race with excitement.

You leaned forward and lightly kissed him on the lips. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, doll.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #imagine #one shot #smut #request #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[themetalvirus]

thinking about shadow and surge. surge shows up and shadow's like. wanna talk. and she goes i'm sick of talking and baps her fists together with electricity and shadow just doesnt move, maintains measured eye contact, narrows his eyes at her. and shes like (exaggerated sigh) (giant exaggerated arms down movement)

shadow has dealt with memories that arent his own, has gone from doing what others told him to forging his own path, and has Medical Trauma. hes seriously the best fit for actually talking with her about what she's going through and how to move forward. shadow DOES have a past, and surge has none, which is where they chafe (on surge's end anyway). but being stuck on that "past" and "doing what you're told to do instead of forming your own identity" stuff is exactly the kind of thing shadow has dealt with and overcome so he could provide some guidance.

i think he would stress that he isnt telling her what to do and the decisions she makes in her personal life arent of his concern, but if she continues to be violent, he will intervene. he isn't like (specifically idw) sonic, wanting her to have freedom of choice no matter what without consequences. there will be consequences for wrong decisions and he will see to that. he wants her to make the right ones, but knows he has no control or real say over whether she does or not, and has no interest in forcing ideas on her that she isn't interested in (he's gone through that before).

he also sees himself in her and identifies with her anguish surrounding her identity. i think he would try to express that it's okay to not know what you really want (aside from killing sonic lol), but it's important to search for what that is, to embark on that journey instead of following existing self destructive patterns

surge, of course, is not immediately receptive to any of that shit and is frustrated that people keep trying to give her life advice, but she senses something different about this particular guy and doesnt resort to fisticuffs. she'd stress that she really does have a helpless fixation on killing sonic and feels as though she can't have peace and will never have peace until he's dead so she can finally fulfill that one "prime directive" and move on with her life. the conversation makes her think, though. she didn't really think about the "after" piece, what she would do. she starts to think about it, but it's difficult, hazy, and she isn't sure where to begin. the conversation doesn't fix her but it does plant seeds, give her stuff to think about for later. she peaces out and shadow feels like hes done his good deed for the day and needs a nap. surge goes back to wherever shes nesting with kit and has a lot of thinky time

#exoticbutterstxt