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#and also im set on working on the requests rn so either way the fics are getting pushed all the way back down
ynscrazylife · 2 years
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Clinging Onto You
Request: “HIII idk if your taking requests rn but I thought id put in an idea for a peter parker x stark!daughter fic where theyre in a secret relationship and they get exposed somehow? im thinking kinda angsty like he walks in to the compound all bloody or something AHH IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT but thats pretty much it but yeah! i love your stuff btw!!”
Summary: The Avengers unexpectedly find out that Tony’s daughter Y/N and Peter are dating.
Authors Note: Set during No Way Home, in an AU that everyone survived Endgame.
Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)
Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2
PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.
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Peter felt his heart practically lurch out of his body when saw Y/N falling. In a snap, he forgot about his mission, he forgot about the other Peters, he forgot about everything. The only thing concerning him was his girlfriend’s safety. It was so high up his priority list that it consumed him, and to see her safety be threatened lit a fuel he didn’t know he had.
He didn’t think, or hear, or speak when he ran and leapt, diving after her with his arm outstretched. Faster, he thought to himself, as the image of complete terror overwhelming Y/N was burned into his mind, her bone-shattering scream sure to leave his ears ringing for days.
The tips of their fingers were inches away, he was nearly there, just about to lock his tight grip on her shaky hand when bam—the wind was knocked out of him as he was thrown off to the side, too far away from Y/N for his liking.
Recovering quickly, Peter’s spider sense directed his fingers to scrape at and clutch the edge of the construction site. Using all his upper body strength, he pulled himself up and scrambled across. His eyes were wide as a bug’s as he searched the abyss of construction for his falling girlfriend, about to send a thwip of webs in her direction when he didn’t see her.
He panted. Had she fallen? Was she—?
From his position, Peter didn’t spot that the other Peter had caught Y/N with tears in his eyes about the girl he wish he could’ve caught. On the tip of a spiral of hatred and despair, his saving grace was found when Peter 3’s voice came over their shared comm system.
“Peter, Peter 1, I caught Y/N. She’s okay, just a little shaken up.”
After the initial shock were off, Peter’s influx of grief was replaced with waves of relief. His ability to breathe became easier and he felt his muscles lose their tension. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he croaked in response.
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Later on, when Peter saw the back of Green Goblin standing mere feet away from him, a desire for vengeance flashed through his eyes. He narrowed in on his target and walked towards him, arms outstretched to do something—anything—when he was stopped.
“Eh eh eh, don’t do anything too quickly,” his sneaky, drawling voice came.
Peter furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as the man slowly turned around. Then, his eyes widened, seeing the person who was with the villain. None other than the love of his life, his girlfriend Y/N, the daughter of one of the most famous heroes ever. Green Goblin had an arm around her, tightly holding her back. Fear was in her eyes as she struggled in vain.
“Let her go, Goblin,” Peter ordered in a low voice, slowing down his movements. In the back of his mind, he wondered where the other Peters were. This was very inconvenient.
He had the nerve to laugh a sick laugh and it made Peter’s blood boil with anger. “I said, let her go!” He repeated, raising his voice to yell.
Green Goblin ignored this and took a step forward, dragging Y/N along with him. “I observed your reaction when she fell, Parker. Quite distraught you were when you didn’t catch her, hmm? I’ll let her go . . . when you admit, in front of the cameras, who the daughter of Stark is to you and why you hid her from the public like your identity!” He said.
For the first time, Peter’s eyes flickered up and he noticed the cameras circling the air above them from helicopters. All news stations, most likely, broadcasting the footage to the entire globe. And, if the entire globe was seeing it, that meant the Avengers were watching, too.
(And, back at the Avengers tower, the team was watching in half-shock, half-fear. They had known that this was a fight Peter needed to do by himself, so they refrained from suiting up, but the involvement of Y/N changed it at all.)
His eyes flickered over to Y/N anxiously, who was still determined and not giving up in her fight for freedom. He couldn’t trust that Green Goblin would stay true to his word. “Why do you want me to say this?” Peter questioned.
Green Goblin pursed his lips. “Oh, Peter, I thought you were smarter than this,” he began condescendingly. “Don’t you know that my goal is to cause you as much pain as possible? You’re hiding something. You’re hiding her. And I will force it out of you, one way or another.”
When Peter hesitated, still not trusting him, Green Goblin took it a step forward. Reaching into a pocket, the young hero only saw a flash of what it was in his hand before he injected it into Y/N’s neck. Gasping, Y/N began to fight even harder, although it didn’t do anything.
“This, son, is a poison I developed. It’s quick-acting. She gets the antidote when you tell me what I want to know,” the villain threatened.
Peter’s eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, prepared to spill it all, when he caught sight of the other Peters stealthily approaching from behind Green Goblin. Within a split second, they attacked. Peter 3 pulled the man back with his webs while Peter 2 administered the cure.
At the sudden loss of his grip on her, Y/N stumbled forward. Peter leapt to catch her, wrapping his arms wound her protectively and pulling her close. “The antidote!” He yelled to Peter 2. “It’s somewhere in his pocket!”
Peter 2 jumped into action, reaching into Green Goblin’s pocket. When he grabbed the antidote, he tossed it to Peter. Peter caught it and injected into Y/N. For a split second, her eyes widened, but she soon relaxed. “Thank you,” she murmured into her boyfriend’s shoulder.
Peter squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the comfort that Y/N just being safe was bringing to him. He only opened his eyes when he felt the wind hit his face, blinking and making out the Avengers’ Quinjet arriving before all the team members stepped out. While the other Peters returned to their own universes, Tony led the team towards the embracing teenagers.
“Y/N, Peter, are you guys alright?” He asked worthily, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder.
Turning around, Y/N gladly fell into her father’s arms. Meanwhile, Peter blinked at the sudden loss of her touch. It felt like he was missing something. “I’m—I’m fine. Just cuts and bruises. But Y/N—” he began to say, as the rest of the Avengers crowded around them.
Y/N shook her head, melting back into the safety next that was her boyfriend, leaning against him. “I feel—I feel . . . I’m fine, okay? Don’t worry about me,” she mumbled into Peter’s shoulder. No one was convinced.
Before Tony could start an argument with his daughter out of concern, Natasha stepped in. “Let’s get you guys on the Quinjet. Bruce will have to check you both over just in case,” she directed softly, leading them onto the Quinjet.
Peter and Y/N stayed to the back, away from everyone else. Although Tony had wanted to join his daughter, Steve had steered him away, whispering about how they needed some space with each other to process everything. On the Quinjet, everyone took their seats. Normally Natasha and Clint would pilot, but this time they put it on autopilot. Peter and Y/N settled into seats next to each other, with Y/N wrapping both arms around one of Peter’s.
Bruce was able to clean and disinfect Peter’s cuts, but then he had to switch to Y/N. “I want to have F.R.I.D.A.Y do a medical scan and take a sample of blood just to be sure. We couldn’t really tell what happened with Goblin from the T.V, but it was obviously something,” he said.
At that, Peter looked around. Everyone — except for Tony that is, who was looking at the teens intently — averted their gaze at Bruce’s words. He had wondered if they heard what Green Goblin had said, and it was obvious by now that they had. He silently thanked them for not bringing it up, even though they wanted to.
“He poisoned me, but Peter gave me the antidote. ‘M fine,” she mumbled tiredly.
“P-poison?” Tony coughed out, his eyes wide. He wasn’t the only one shocked and concerned, but the others hid it better.
“Let’s go over to somewhere where there’s more light so we can make sure,” Bruce instructed softly, before standing up and moving to the center of the ship, where the light from the ceiling was shining down.
Y/N went to to follow him, her grip on Peter never lessening. Peter didn’t mind, he was more than happy to hold onto her. He joined them both, and thankfully FRIDAY was intelligent enough to be able to scan Y/N without needing Peter to step aside. He patiently waited for Bruce to take Y/N’s finger prick, and the couple watched as he analyzed the incoming scan.
“You seem okay, the antidote worked quickly . . . But the poison and antidote has some side effects and has weakened you. You’ll need to rest like Peter,” Bruce concluded. “I’ll analyze your blood just to make sure.”
As soon as she was given the green light, Y/N wasted no time in during around and plopping herself in her seat. Peter gladly joined her.
When the Quinjet reached the compound, everyone began organizing themselves. Natasha took it upon herself to wake the now-sleeping teenagers, who had wrapped themselves around each other. Y/N’s legs were thrown over Peter’s lap, her head resting in the crook of his neck. Peter had his arms wrapped around her, his head resting against her own.
Everyone had noticed — except Tony, that was, who was too worried about his daughter to notice anything else. However, no one said a word, wanting them to sleep. 
When Natasha approached the teens, she reached her hand out to shake Peter’s shoulder, when Y/N shifted. After a moment, she settled, but her mumbling came not long after. Natasha didn’t catch what she said, but when she moved around more, it woke Peter up.
“Wha—” Peter started to mumble himself, blinking a couple times before turning to Y/N. Recognizing the situation, he shifted, pulling Y/N closer. In response, Y/N kept moving around, but couldn’t go anywhere in Peter’s arms.
“Catch me, please,” she whispered in her sleep, making Peter’s and Natasha’s eyes widen.
“Y/N, Y/N, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up,” Peter said, his voice loud but still kind, wasting no time in gently shaking her shoulder. This got everyone’s attention, stopping what they were doing to turn to the teenagers and the Widow.
“Pe—ter, catch me!” Y/N yelled, kicking her leg out and hitting the air. She tossed and turned and Peter had to tighten his grip on her so she didn’t accidentally fall onto the ground.
“Y/N, wake up,” he repeated, pausing before ultimately cupping her cheek in his hand. The comforting touch instantly drew her from her restless sleep, and as soon as she became aware, she was looking around hurriedly. “Hey, hey, you’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Y/N relaxed, wrapping her arms around Peter and pulling herself closer to him — if that was even possible. He adjusted himself so she was sitting in his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist, head nestled into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her back, his chin on his shoulder, glancing at the other Avengers.
After a few minutes of small mumblings from Peter about how he was here for her and how she was safe, Steve cleaned his throat. “We’re ready,” he announced to the team, although it was clear who his intended target was. Everyone but Peter and Y/N had their stuff.
The team stood up, Tony and Natasha grabbing Y/N and Peter’s belongings, while Peter stood up, carrying his girlfriend. No one said a word about it until they reached the compound’s living room, where Y/N had fallen asleep and Peter had laid her carefully on the couch.
“What was that?” Tony asked, coughing. His voice was thick with emotion and hoarse.
When Peter turned around, wearing a tired, concerned, and sad expression, Tony opened his mouth to retract the question. He was about to say that it was fine, he could hear about it another time, but Peter already started talking.
“During the fight, she-she fell. I dived after her but was knocked out of the way. I assumed the worst, but one of the other Peters caught her,” he explained, averting his gaze and ultimately squeezing his eyes shut as he recalled the utter fear that ran through his blood. He let the team adjust to this for a couple seconds, since he wasn’t done speaking. “Then, Goblin must’ve grabbed her. He wanted me to . . . to admit who she is to me because he wanted to hurt me. I was reluctant, how could I trust him? So he poisoned her, but the other Peters arrived and we got the antidote for her and cured him.”
Tony’s gaze fell to his daughter. “Oh my god,” he whispered, gravitating towards her and kneeling down. Reaching out to brush the hair away from her face, he looked up at Peter as he pieced the puzzle together. “Are you two in a relationship with each other?” He asked.
Peter slowly looked around at everyone in the room, all still processing what he had just revealed. “We were going to tell you,” he admitted. It was the truth.
Tony nodded, taking a deep breath before standing up. He turned to Peter and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest, Pete. You did great today,” he said.
Blinking, Peter nodded a little numbly. However, he couldn’t hide his tired, goofy smile as he let himself flop on the couch next to Y/N. He pulled his girlfriend closer to himself, knowing that it wouldn’t wake her up. Steve threw a blanket over them and the team all took their seats, beginning a quiet conversation. Closing his eyes, Peter continued to smile as he was holding Y/N and feeling her warmth, letting his team’s soft and low voices lull him to sleep.
It would take a while for them to be okay again, but they worked through it together. And now, at least, they didn’t need to hide it from the Avengers anymore. (Although they did have to deal with Sam and Bucky’s constant teasing).
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asteriismos · 2 years
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planning fics w eleanor....
these r my ideas. lmk if you want your request to have it's own fic but i may be mushing some ideas together tbh. there are literally over ten fics....... which is why i closed requests...............
for the umbrella academy.
closer series (pt3 on the way, maybe a 5 part series?)
cherry waves pt2
fic based off of "Wow, It’s been forever since I’ve been here, I used to be 🃏 anon! Can I please request Ben Hargreeves smut set during Luther and Sloane’s wedding? Like, they’ve disliked each other the whole time but decide to say fuck it and get together cause the worlds ending😭" and mixing it w "Hello. I love the closer smut. And with that would be grateful if u could write for sparrow Ben x reader where the reader is stressed and honestly exhausted and ben just fucks them to relaxation. Hehe thank u <3"
fic based off of "Can you make a smut ff where sparrow Ben gets jealous cause the reader is flirting with someone else👀? If that's alright with you ofc^^" and mixed w "idk if you're taking request rn but if you are could you maybe write ben smut where he uses his tentacles to choke you? I really like your writing!" and mixing it w "Hii!! Could I request for Sparrow! Ben x Umbrella! Reader where he had y/n back in his arms, he had no intention of letting her go again which meant fighting off the umbrella academy in order to keep her all to himself. Thankuu 🥰" and "hi <3 can you do a sparrow!ben smut where he sees that Marcus likes you and takes it upon himself to steal you from number one please ? ty !! (pls include lots of brat behaviour if you can !! and some like ‘use ur fucking words’ type stuff thank youuu <3)" AND "Hi, I loved your Ben smut so much it sent me blushing😍😍. Was wondering if you'd write another Sparrow Ben x Umbrella smut but with him using his powers and honestly just pure filth and angry sex idk I'm weak for Ben😫😫����"
fic based off of "Five x female reader, Soulmate au, Rivals to lovers, Where reader has similar powers to him and is also traveling in time ? Fluff plz"
for it
a fic based off of "hey hey! i was just wondering if i could request a fic based off of call your girlfriend by robyn? with either richie tozier or steve harrington? thank you x"
a fic based off of "hii !! would you write something with a trans ftm reader ? something with eddie or stanley ? :]"
a fic based off of "hi hi! it’s so good to see you active on here again! your account is so pretty and your writing is amazing! when you get the chance do you think you could do a stan uris x reader where him and the reader are secretly dating (i’m such a whore for the secret dating trope) and have been for about 4 or so months and one night stan is over at yn’s house and they’re probably mid makeout or smth and the other losers show up unannounced and she tells stan to hide and someone finds him? sorry if it’s too specific lol thank u vv much! :)"
a fic based off of "heyy im sorry to bother you but could you write a bill denbrough smut where they at first have like phonesex/sexting and never really talk together at school, but then they decide to have a sleepover for the first time because readers parents are like out off town and things escalate and they do it in the shower and bed? oh and he keeps praising and degrading the reader<3 i literally envy ur work ur so talented"
a fic for "hey :) could you write a bill denbrough smut with mirror sex and degrading?"
for stranger things.
a fic based off of "Hey love! I was just wondering if you could write a Steve Harrington smut that includes a lot of praise, thigh riding & orgasm control/denial? Thank you x"
i think these are all the requests ive gotten...........lol
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clownkillsyou · 3 years
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hh there was anothr sanmos fic i gave up on cuz all i could really get out of it was one (1) description of a scene but it was abt their first kiss n i thought the concept was cute........... but head empty
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the-lonelybarricade · 3 years
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Loved your latest chapter and Im so excited to see what happens under the mountain!
I was wondering if I could request a one-shot?(up to you how long and you can do it in your own time)something along the lines of:
Feyre( from either ACOWAR, ACOFAS or ACOSF) time travels back to ACOTAR, but instead of finding herself back in her human body i the spring court, she's still in her fae body and ends up trapped in velaris, having to explain to the rest of IC who she is and why she cant go free their highlord(add some mistrust from the IC)
🙈🙈Id its very similar to what youre doing rn with your other fic but, if you find the inspiration sometime could you please do this? Ive wanted to read a fic for ages were feyre rime travels and meets pre-acomaf inner circle who dont know/trust her, but Ive never found a fic like that
Thank youuu
Hi lovely anon! It makes me so happy you enjoyed my latest chapter! I’m supposed to be working on a project for uni, but I couldn’t resist gratifying my lovely friends (because you're anon and won't be notified I was getting sad at the idea of you checking my blog and not seeing me respond) <3 I’ll admit I’m a bit scatterbrained at the moment, so I hope it’s okay!
I was having trouble brainstorming a reason for Feyre getting sent back in time because I didn't want to borrow the reasoning from ACoFD. So I was vague and twisted the pre-existing rules around the Ouroboros, and ended up getting quite carried away with the story since I don’t like not giving things a happy ending (even though it’s a little cheesy, sorry)
Anyway, I hope this is what you were looking for! I know you wanted the angst of not being able to save Rhys but... I couldn't just leave my poor bat-boy behind, you know? ;)
Also if this didn't quite scratch that itch, I'm always happy to take more requests
Word count: 4,446
The Ouroboros.
It was a massive, round disc—as tall as Feyre was. Taller. And the metal around it had been fashioned after a massive serpent, the mirror held within its coils as it devoured its own tail.
Ending and beginning.
From across the room, Feyre could not see it. What lay within.
She forced herself to take a step forward. Another.
The mirror itself was black as night—yet… wholly clear.
She watched herself approach. Watched the arm she had upraised against the wind and snow, the pinched expression on her face. The exhaustion.
She stopped three feet away. She did not dare touch it.
It only showed Feyre herself. Nothing.
Feyre scanned the mirror for any signs of… something to push or touch with her magic. But there was only the devouring head of the serpent, its maw open wide, frost sparkling on its fangs.
Feyre stared and stared, but all she saw was herself. There was nothing else. Then—
Feyre woke with a gasp, sitting up in bed to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and the strange, foreboding feeling that felt draped around her shoulders like a weighted cape, pulling her down. It hadn’t been a particularly horrifying nightmare. In fact, it was perhaps of the tamer dreams she’d had in the last year.
Yet something about it clung to her, perhaps a lingering agitation that she’d yet to retrieve the mirror the Bone Carver had requested. That must be it.
The bed space beside her was cold. The sun peaking through the window was not high, it couldn’t be long past dawn. However worrisome her own dream, her mate’s must have been worse to draw him from sleep so early. Worse still for him to sneak away.
Feyre rose from the bed, reaching absently for Rhysand’s dressing robe to wrap around herself. She always loved to steal her mate’s clothes, to be wrapped in his scent.
With gentle steps, she made her way to the study, where she could only assume Rhys had sequestered himself in the lone hours of the night. She’d noticed the weary draw to his shoulders, the dark circles under his eyes. This war was weighing on him heavily, and he was nervous. Feyre wished he didn’t insist on shouldering the burden alone.
“Rhys?” Feyre called softly as she got to the study, knocking on the door before she cracked it open.
Peeking her head around the door, she was met with the sight of Rhysand’s abandoned study. The scattered papers and war maps that had become characteristic of his desk space were surprisingly missing. In fact, the whole space had been cleared away and there was a thick layer of dust on every surface as if no one had been in here in years.
Feyre frowned at the sight, and how different it had been just the day before. Where had all the dust come from? And more importantly, where was Rhys? Perhaps he’d taken a morning flight to clear his head.
Where are you, love? She called to him through the mating bond, but was met with silence.
“Who are you?”
The voice was cold and venomous. Feyre turned, coming face to face with Mor, whose face was twisted into a threatening scowl.
“Mor?” Feyre asked, confused by her friend’s cold demeanor. “What do you mean? Have you seen Rhys?”
Mor’s face turned deadly, a look Feyre had only ever seen from Mor in the Court of Nightmares. “Is that some kind of joke?” she snarled.
Then, before Feyre could process what was happening, Mor had gripped onto Feyre’s wrist and they were enveloped in darkness. They stepped into the House of Wind, into the dining room where Cassian and Azriel abruptly stood up.
“Mor?” Feyre questioned when the blonde didn’t release her steel grip. She looked to Cassian and Azriel quizzically. “Guys? What’s going on?”
Cassian crossed his arms, assessing Feyre with a hostility that put her on edge. “Who’s this, Mor?” he asked gruffly.
Feyre frowned as she watched Azriel reach for Truth-Teller.
“Is this a joke?” she asked, flitting her eyes to each of her friends. Where she sought that friendly warmth in each of their gazes she was met with hard stares, filled with distrust, ready for a brawl. She couldn’t make sense of it. Was this an act Rhys had put them up to?
“I found her in the townhouse,” Mor said. “I don’t know how she got in there. She was in Rhysand’s study.”
“And she’s wearing his dressing gown,” Azriel noted dryly. Cassian did a double glance, his eyes going wide, then narrowing with a rage Feyre had never seen from the male. Certainly never directed at her.
There was a whisper of shadow, then suddenly Azriel was behind her, Truth-Teller poised at her throat.
Feyre startled. “Azriel!” she said sharply. Even if it was a joke, Feyre couldn’t imagine Rhysand would sanction this kind of threat. And the energy in the room was off, the tension too thick. “Stand down.”
“And who are you,” he breathed in her ear, his voice coated in shadow and nightmare, “to command the Shadowsinger of the Night Court?”
“I’m your High Lady,” Feyre answered steadily, not letting Azriel’s shadows, nor cunning voice, shake her resolve. “Now, I don’t know what is going on with the three of you, or what strange joke you’re trying to pull, but you will listen to what I say. Put. Your. Knife. Down.”
“High Lady?” Cassian repeated with a snort of disbelief. “You’ve got balls, little girl.”
Truth-Teller danced across the skin of her neck, pressing lightly enough to intimidate without breaking skin. “Do you even know to whom you speak? You should be bowing before the acting Queen of the Night Court.”
Too stunned to properly resist, Azriel kicked his feet out to knock Feyre to her knees in front of Mor. His fingers slid into her hair, gripping it tightly to pull her head back as Truth-Teller resumed its threatening position at her throat.
“Breaking into the High Lord’s personal residence, impersonating a high position within the Night Court, lying to the Morrigan’s face,” Azriel listed, increasing the pressure of the blade with each transgression. “You throw our High Lord’s generosity and protection in his face, something we as his acting Court do not take lightly.”
“Acting court? Acting Queen?” Feyre repeated, feeling as if she’d woken to a different reality. “What are you talking about? Where’s Rhysand!?”
“We’re the ones asking the questions here,” Cassian growled.
Feyre looked to each of her friends, studying their faces. Beyond their militant expression, she could see their grief. Could smell it. She repeated, “where is Rhysand?”
She felt the snarl that rumbled through Azriel’s chest behind her, vibrating against her back. When the question was once again unanswered, Feyre abandoned all sense of patience.
Darkness exploded through the room. She heard Mor gasp as the walls of the House shook from the might of her power. Feyre folded into the shadows, winnowing out of Azriel’s grasp so she stood in the center of the three of them.
“Az, Cass, Mor, you are my friends and I do not want to hurt you. But I am also your High Lady and you will answer me this instant, where is Rhys? Where is my mate!?”
Siphons gleamed red and blue through the thick tendrils of night, illuminating the Illyrian males’ faces. Cassian’s jaw had fallen open, while Azriel was studying her through narrowed eyes, wisps of shadow surrounding him. Feyre wondered what they were whispering to him.
“Mate?” Cassian echoed, the first to break the heavy silence.
Mor took a cautious step forward, her countenance completely changed. Her pupils were blown wide, twin brown depths churning with sorrow and gentle astonishment. Azriel went rigid at Mor’s approach, but no one moved to stop her as she came face to face with Feyre.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered, taking Feyre’s left hand, eye fixed on her mating band. On the sapphire-star ring that once belonged to Rhysand’s mother.
All eyes befell the subject of Mor’s attention. Cassian swore softly in recognition.
“It’s my mating band,” Feyre answered measuredly, still puzzled that the inner circle, her family, didn’t seem to have any memory of it. Nor of her. “I won it from the Weaver, as was the task set by Rhysand’s mother. But you were all there for that. I don’t understand what’s going on. Where. Is. Rhys?”
“Under the Mountain,” Mor whispered, her voice soft and pained.
The darkness ebbed away like a receding tide. Feyre felt her heart sink as she tried to process this information. “He—What?”
“He’s been Under the Mountain for the last 50 years,” Mor said, firmer this time. “And if you were his so-called mate, you would know that.”
“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head vehemently. “No, that’s impossible. We got out. We—”
This was a nightmare. It had to be a nightmare, and she just hadn’t woken up from it.
“Amarantha’s dead,” Feyre insisted, mostly in an attempt to console the unparalleled grief and panic that were raging inside her. “She’s dead, and Rhys and I got out.”
The grim faces of her friends said otherwise. They stared at her, in unbearable mixtures of pity and horror.
“I think she’s having a mental break,” Cassian said, not unkindly. “Should we get a healer?”
“Let me show you,” Feyre said meekly, casting her magic out to tap on their mental shields.
They all tensed, clearly not aware they’d been in the presence of a daemati. Trained well by Rhys, they all cracked their shields just enough for Feyre to send her conjured memories through. She showed them going Under the Mountain as a human, winning the trials and being resurrected, falling in love with Rhys, and eventually becoming High Lady of the Night Court. In turn, the three of them pushed back their own memories, of the current state of the world. Of Rhysand sacrificing himself so that his Court and Velaris would be safe.
A sob broke out of Feyre. “How is this possible? How am I here?”
It was Azriel who immediately went for the jugular. “More importantly, if you’re here as a High Fae, how is Rhys going to get out? How do we stop Amarantha?”
Feyre fell to her knees, grief-stricken by this realization. She was no longer human. She couldn’t stride in as Tamlin’s human lover and undergo the trials. Feyre had her powers, but they were untested. Would she be able to take on the whole of Amarantha’s court?
“What do I do? How do I save him?” she whimpered, staring in mute horror at her mating band.
Mor tentatively reached forward, laying a comforting hand on Feyre’s shoulder. “Rhys sacrificed himself to keep the people he loves safe. He wouldn’t want you getting yourself killed trying to save him.”
“I have to try,” Feyre answered desperately. “Amarantha she’s…” Feyre couldn’t bring herself to say the word, rape. Not to his family, who wear his sacrifice for them like an open wound. “She’s doing unspeakable things to him. He’s suffering so much. I can’t leave him to that fate. I have to try.”
With renewed conviction, Feyre accepted Mor’s outstretched hand and picked herself to her feet. “Rhys said it himself once. Amarantha’s biggest weapon is that she keeps the High Lord’s power contained. She can’t access them herself. But I… I have access to all the High Lords’ powers. And that bitch has my mate. My wrath will be plenty to take her down.” She faced her friends, who watched her warily. “You have my word as your High Lady,” she swore to them. “The High Queen of Prythian is going to fall by the night’s end.”
⟡⟡⟡
Winter had not yet fallen in the Mortal Lands. Feyre wondered if across the world, there was a version of herself curled in a bed with her sisters, clinging to any shred of warmth and survival.
That version of Feyre was very different from the version who strode up the sloping hills of the Spring Court with Azriel by her side. Rhys would be furious that Feyre had allowed him to accompany her. Should anything go wrong, it would destroy her mate to know his family had been put in harm's way after everything he’d done to protect them. Which was why it was only Azriel who came with, the only compromise she could reach with his Inner Circle, who insisted on coming with.
Who better to sneak into the Mountain with than the very soldier who taught Feyre the art of stealth. He was the obvious choice, since Mor needed to stay to rule the Night Court and Cassian was too heavy-handed to handle such a delicate task.
Their footfall was silent. Feyre wrapped them in the shadow of Night as they winnowed through the cave network. Her heart hammered in her chest, panicked to be back in the source of so many nightmares.
But Rhysand was more important than her fear. For him, she would not falter.
With the Shadowsinger by her side, Feyre snuck through the winding tunnels until she came to a familiar passageway. They slid into a massive, dark bedroom, lit only by a few candles.
To attack Amarantha in the throne room would be too messy. Too many variables to contend with, should Amarantha have enough wit about her to use any faeries as a shield. Especially Rhysand.
After several hours of waiting, the lock on the door clicked and swung open. Darkness swirled around the room as Rhysand took in the sight of Feyre and Azriel on the bed.
Immediately, the door slammed shut.
“No,” he whispered, voice dripping with horror. “No.”
“Rhys—” Feyre started, but her mate wasn’t paying any attention to her. He was looking at Azriel as if his whole world had shattered.
“Leave,” he said, his voice cold and commanding. This was no happy reunion between brothers. This was Rhysand’s worst nightmare. “Leave this instant, you stupid fool. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have avoided detection when you passed under her wards.”
“I took down the wards,” Feyre said. They weren’t particularly strong, either. Amarantha had gotten lazy, perhaps thinking herself secure with the only spell-cleaver under her control. Or so she believed.
Rhys turned that quiet fury towards her. “And who are you?”
“Your mate,” Feyre answered steadily, tipping her chin up.
Rhysand laughed. A desperate, humorless sound. “Then you are just as foolish as my idiot brother. And you have both sealed your deaths by being here. Do you understand that?”
Feyre scratched along those familiar adamantite shields. Rhys’s eyes flickered in surprise, but otherwise he looked unruffled as he cracked a sliver open for her.
It would be unwise to underestimate me, mate.
I wouldn’t be going around boasting about such a thing, if what you claim is even true, came his icy response. And I wouldn’t count on a few party tricks to save you, either.
And what if I told you, she purred, that I possess the power of all seven High Lords?
That, at least, garnered a reaction from the stoic male. He narrowed his eyes in disbelief, studying Feyre carefully. His gaze caught on her hands, at the lace tattoos that flowed to her fingers. And the mating band she still wore.
Feyre watched those violet eyes go wide, the silver constellations dancing in astonishment at the sight of his mother’s ring.
Where did you get that?
It’s a long story, love, but you’re going to have to trust me. She lowered her mental shields completely. Have a look for yourself. I’m telling you no lies. I am your High Lady, and I am here to free my husband.
She felt those familiar talons wrap around her mind. A foolish thing to do, to give a daemati unrestricted access to her mind. And if it were anyone but Rhys, it would have been. But his touch was gentle, and he took only the information he needed.
“I don’t understand how this is possible,” he whispered, breaking the silence of the room. Azriel had been waiting patiently, but looked relieved to be included in the conversation once more. “And I hate that you’ve put yourselves in danger for this, but it could work.”
Rhys considered for a long moment, then he looked between Feyre and Azriel and said, “do it when she’s sleeping. That bitch has been playing dirty for 50 years, you might as well level the playing field to give yourselves the best chance. Let’s do it tonight. I’ll leave the door unlocked, wear her out, and signal you once she’s asleep. Her spell prevents me from harming her, but I’ll make sure she’s restrained. All you have to do is drive the ash dagger through her heart, but have your magic ready for damage control.”
⟡⟡⟡
Feyre and Azriel waited in Rhysand’s bedchambers for his signal. There was a revelry tonight, as there was every night Under the Mountain, and Rhys was expected to be in attendance. Afterwards, he’d join Amarantha in her bed and make sure she was, in his words, “thoroughly exhausted”.
It was torturous for Feyre. To know exactly what the implication in those words were, to have to use her mate’s body in such a way. She wanted to roar at the Mountain, at the Cauldron, at anything that would listen, but instead she was next to the quiet, brooding Shadowsinger, and lamented in silence.
She’d begged Rhys to reconsider, to perhaps help them stage a more physical encounter that didn’t rely on his own suffering. But he’d denied any plan but the one he’d proposed, insisting it would cause him more anguish to but Feyre and Azriel in harm's way.
So they waited the long, agonizing hours until she felt a delicate pull at her chest. She’s asleep, Rhys called. Be on your guard.
He sent her directions to Amarantha’s bedchambers. There were guards outside, but Feyre and Azriel winnowed past them, cloaked in night and shadow.
Amarantha’s bedchambers were huge. Feyre had never been inside them before, but she was unsurprised to see they provided any luxury a High Queen could wish for.
Atop a large bed of red, silken sheets, lay her mate and Amarantha, both stark naked. The smell of sex clung to the air, Rhysand and Amarantha’s scents intertwined. Feyre thought she might be sick.
Even more sickening was the sight before her, of Amarantha’s arms restrained to the headboard in cloth. A clever way for Rhys to restrain her under the guise of sex, but horrifying nonetheless, to see the proof of what they’d been up to. The female was fast asleep, so convinced of her authority that she could fall asleep tied-up and not feel vulnerable doing so. How satisfying, Feyre thought, that such arrogance would be her downfall.
Feyre warded the room, putting up a shield of darkness so that no sound would break through to alert the guards. Rhys watched their approach warily from where he perched beside Amarantha, so still Feyre was convinced he held his breath.
He wouldn’t risk moving to wake her up, which terrified Feyre. Should something go wrong, her mate would be susceptible to Amarantha’s wrath. Naked, vulnerable, and completely under her control. It was such a dangerous game they were playing.
The room was as quiet and still as the bewitching hours of the night, their footsteps silent as they picked across the room. Azriel held the ash dagger. If Rhys could not kill Amarantha, his brother wanted to do it on his behalf. Meanwhile, Feyre summoned tendrils of night that carefully wrapped around Amarantha’s legs, slithering up her body like a snake, ready to constrict and restrain.
The female stirred in her sleep, perhaps feeling the ghostlike touch of Feyre’s magic. But she did not wake. Not as Azriel raised the dagger over her chest, and not as he plunged it down.
Amarantha’s eyes shot open as the dagger pierced her chest. She let out a shriek of agony and ire, moving to claw at her attacker. She raged against the restraints, spewing obscenities until they died at her lips as the blade sunk into her heart.
Rhysand’s chest was heaving as he watched the female still, then slump. He looked from her dead body, to Azriel and Feyre.
Feyre’s heart sank as she watched her mate process that it was truly over. There wasn’t a trace of elation in his eyes at being liberated, but she understood why. Rhys would finally be returning home, but as a much different man than the one he had been. He’d survived, but not unscathed, and he’d need time to process this.
Feyre came to him, reached towards her mate with the hand that bore his mother’s ring. Rhys looked to it, then up to her. His eyes were clouded with sorrow, with a melancholy she could only hope to chip away at in time. But she could see stirring beneath it was a breath of hope, perhaps the first he’d allowed himself in a long time.
“Let’s go home, Rhys,” she said gently.
Slowly, Rhysand nodded, moving to grasp her hand. She felt him jolt at the touch and, as she glanced at him questioningly, she saw his lips part in wonder.
I suppose you weren’t lying about being my mate, he whispered, the words a sensual brush in her mind. Thank you for coming to rescue me, High Lady.
Feyre grasped onto Azriel, and together the three of them stepped into darkness.
Then, they were above the House of Wind, tumbling through the night sky. Feyre unfurled her wings before Rhys could move to catch them, worried that her mate would struggle after 50 years without flight.
Both males stared in astonishment at the sight. Rhysand’s eyes danced in awe as Feyre, albeit clumsily, carried them to the training ring on the roof.
Rhys snapped his own wings open as they landed. Feyre watched him tilt his head back in rapture as he felt the wind against his wings for the first time in decades. Then he opened his eyes, his expression shifting to reverence as he beheld the night sky.
“I was beginning to think I’d never see it again,” he whispered, his voice a heartbreaking blend of exaltation and disbelief. “And for this gift… for my salvation to be courtesy of my mate and of my brother… I’m a bit overwhelmed,” he admitted sheepishly.
Feyre hesitated. If this was the Rhysand from before, the one to which she was mated and married, she would come to comfort him. But this version of Rhys had only just been freed from enslavement, and she didn’t know what he needed.
As though sensing her hesitation, Rhys cast his eyes back to the sky. “I know they’re all waiting for me downstairs, but I’d like a little bit of time with the stars. Will you let them know, Az?”
Azriel nodded, though he seemed conflicted. His reunion with his brother was perhaps not as merry as the male had expected. But right now, she knew the Inner Circle would hardly deny Rhys anything. Perhaps for a long while yet. So Azriel headed downstairs to inform their friends, who were sure to be anxiously awaiting their arrival.
Rhysand regarded Feyre carefully once the two of them were alone. “Mate and High Lady,” he mused. “You seem to wear many hats.”
“You forgot ‘wife’,” Feyre said lightly.
“Yes, and ‘Salvation’, ‘Queen Killer’, ‘Most Beautiful Female in Prythian’, it seems there’s many things I could call you. Could we start with your name, perchance?”
Feyre was shocked. She’d assumed he’d taken such information out of her mind earlier, but it seems he’d been even more respectful than she’d expected.
“Feyre,” she answered. “My name is Feyre.”
He looked wonderstruck. “Feyre,” he repeated, testing the name on his lips. A gentle smile curled at the corners of his mouth, the first she’d seen from him yet. He extended his hand towards her. “Would you like to watch the stars with me, Feyre?”
It was an offer she couldn’t refuse. Her hand found his with all the casual grace of a dancer, as if it were a routine they’d been perfecting their whole lives. Their fingers interlocked and as one, they stared up at the dazzling night sky.
This reality wasn’t perfect, Feyre thought. This Rhys was different from her own, and he still had a lot of healing to do. But if she could be there for him, to help him in a ways she hadn’t before, then she would be grateful to the strange eddies of the Cauldron for bringing her here. For allowing her to end his torment early. For giving them this extra time.
She watched a shooting star dart across the sky and smiled as it passed. There was nothing she could wish for except that her mate find peace in all that he’d endured the last half century.
His deep, velvety voice cut through the silence. “Do you often wish on stars, Feyre?”
She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was watching her with a heart-wrenching wistfulness.
“Only when I have a wish worthy of the stars.”
“And do you?”
Feyre looked to the northernmost star, which shined brightest in the sky. “I wished for a light in the darkness,” she told him. “I don’t think the stars would ever begrudge such a wish.”
Rhysand nodded solemnly. “It’s true that they would be begrudging themselves in doing so. But I see no need for you to wish for such a thing.”
Feyre looked to him. He was still watching her, but something in him had shifted. He was smiling at her gently, that lingering sadness already receding. “Why’s that?” she asked cautiously.
That gentle smile widened, showing off his brilliant teeth. “Why, Feyre, to find such a thing, all you’d need to do is look in a mirror.”
51 notes · View notes
cole-grey-writes · 3 years
Text
Brown Hair Braided
Universe: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Timeline: Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Character(s): Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes
Pairing(s): Stucky x Male Reader
Warning(s): tooth rotting fluff
Request: Hi king!! Your writing is amazing! I’d love to request a cuddly stucky x boyfriend reader. Bonus points for extra snuggly long haired Bucky and Steve and the reader playing with his hair.
A/n: WOW so sorry this took me a while to get up. I was busy with online classes and homework, all that shit. and if anyone is interested to know, i finished applying to my first college (yeah cutting it suuuper short but fuck im a procrastinator). I really hope you enjoy this fic. Keep sending in your requests, i really like writing for you guys!
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You sit at the desk that sits in your bedroom, doing some last minute paperwork before the weekend. You’re startled from your focus and analytical thoughts when you get a frantic text from one of your boyfriends, Steve. You smile.
It's been a couple years since you had started going out with Steve but it still feels like you two were in the honeymoon phase. Steve brings a smile to your face at even the slightest mention of him. Although, you’re a little confused as to why Steve didn’t just call you. It’s what he usually prefers to converse with you while you are away from each other, Steve having told you it had something to do with liking to hear your voice. You chose not to dig further to spare Steve’s already tomato red face from exploding.
You turn away from your computer and small stack of papers, picking up your phone just as the screen lights up with another text.
Steve [5:23 p.m.]    Y/N Y/N Y/N
Steve [5:23 p.m.]    HEY
Steve [5:24 p.m.]    ANSWER
You snort, wondering what Steve seems so excited about.
You [5:24 p.m.]    what
Steve [5:23 p.m.]    BUCK IS COMING HOME
You’re immediately sitting up straight, smile spreading even wider. You now understand why Steve had chosen to text you, probably embarrassed to start loudly squealing over their boyfriend coming home while in his place of work.
Bucky was your other boyfriend, something you wouldn’t have believed if you were to bring it up with your past self. This is mostly due to the almost palpable tension between the two of you when you and Bucky officially met about a year prior.
You, Steve, Sam, and occasionally Natasha, had been trailing after Bucky all over Europe for a few months. Bucky must have been slowly rebuilding himself during that time because he had suddenly stopped running right before you were going to hit the four (4) month mark.
You didn’t understand where all the awkwardness had been coming from. For all you knew, you were just looking for Steve’s childhood best friend, one of the only people to still remain from Steve’s old life. That was, until Sam and Natasha started making offhand comments about how deep Steve and Bucky’s friendship seemed to run (you honestly didn’t and don’t blame either of them for the new wave of insecurities that flooded your mind, you and Steve having agreed to keep the relationship, which you started only a few weeks before the reveal of HYDRA’s secret operations inside SHIELD, you started a secret until you two became more comfortable).
Everything made sense after that. It was understandable that you and Bucky had a fragile relationship in the beginning. And it really was only in the beginning. It didn’t take long before you and Bucky started bonding over your shared love for Steve and it didn’t take long after that before something started forming between the three of.
You [5:25 p.m.]    !!!!!
You [5:26 p.m.]    OMG
You [5:26 p.m.]    REALLY?!?
Steve [5:26 p.m.]    YES!
Steve [5:26 p.m.]    we need to hurry he’s on the way home rn
You [5:26 p.m.]    oH UM
You [5:27 p.m.]    i’m home rn
You [5:27 p.m.]    i can set up everything here
Steve [5:27 p.m.]    good!!
Steve [5:27 p.m.]    i can get dinner and dessert on my way home
You [5:27 p.m.]    perfect
Steve [5:28 p.m.]    ok 123 brEAK
You snort at Steve’s comedic antics as you push yourself away from your desk and away from your work. You know that you'll have to finish those at some point before monday. You’ll most likely be doing it late sunday night due to the fact that you’re going to be completely preoccupied with your boyfriends all weekend because it's been a few weeks since all three of you have been together.
This is obviously due to your hectic work schedules, Steve stuck with what was left of SHIELD, unofficially of course, doing top secret secret agent missions. Bucky had joined him in that soon after he was cleared for it. You, on the other hand, have a very typical and boring office job, a job that has become very demanding as of late with your boss giving out extra paperwork around your floor.
But, you don’t have to worry about that at the moment, you remind yourself. That thought spurs you into moving around your apartment, an apartment that you’ve been sharing with your boyfriends for a couple of months now. You note this fact with a small surge of glee inside your head as you rush to your closet where you keep all your blankets at.
You pull out the blankets you have, which is quite a lot, a fact you’re slightly embarrassed to admit. You’ve accumulated a bunch of them throughout your entire life, some as gifts from your friends and family and others from your lack of self control during the fall and winter time of the blatant holiday themes are anything to go by. You’re pretty sure your old baby blankets are boxed up somewhere, likely under your bed.
You pile the load of blankets high in your arms, so much so that you can’t see where you’re going if you don’t walk sideways as you make your way towards the living room. The living room where everything is going to happen.
Dropping the mountain of blankets on the couch unceremoniously, you immediately start to arrange them all around the couch. You bunch and ball the blankets around the back of the couch, trying to form a cocoon out of them so that you, Steve, and Bucky can remain warm no matter where or how any of you sit while you watch movie after movie throughout the rest of the night.
Which reminds you, it’s not possible to have a movie night without any movies.
turning to the small movie rack that sits next to the TV, you waste no time at all in picking out any movies that catch your eye which are quite a few movies, a good number of which are Steve and Bucky’s favorites. You set the, rather large, stack of movies next to the couch blanket fort so they’re out and ready to pick through whenever.
You’re left with a small clean up after that. You clear off the coffee table for when Steve gets home with the food, picking up leftover coffee mugs (courtesy of Steve) and rinsing them before sticking them in the dishwasher for you to deal with later. Then, you move the books lying around the living room to the miniature bookshelf in your bedroom before gathering all the drawing paper and well used pencils (also courtesy of Steve) and placing those on the left bedside table, the side Steve likes to sleep on when he’s not in the middle.
You wander around the apartment after that, looking for anything else to clean while you wait for Steve to arrive. It takes less time than you think it should have, which is surprising, so surprising that you almost think someone is politely breaking in when you hear the sound of the door clicking open and closed.
You head out of your bedroom where you were perusing a book, something you could distract yourself with, when you heard. You walk into the kitchen to see Steve already unpacking the food, clearly having rushed home.
You’re not able to hold back your smile upon seeing your boyfriend for the first time in weeks. “Need any help?” you wonder, your appearance catching Steve’s attention. He turns towards you, it being quite obvious that Steve is as excited to see you as you are to see him if the wide smile that spreads across his face in seconds is anything to go by.
Steve pauses in his unpacking to lean towards as you approach him swiftly, so he can pull you into a warm kiss. You and Steve feel each other smile during the kiss, making you two smile even harder. “Help would be great,” Steve tells you after you separate. He resumes unpacking the food from the plastic bag it was put into.
You identify the logo on the bag now that you’re so close and it’s clear that the food is from Bucky’s favorite burger place. You take note of the food as you help Steve set everything out on the counter. There’s three (3) different to-go boxes, no doubt filled with favorite menu items. You also spot three (3) medium sized milkshakes sitting in the cup container.
“Dessert?”
“It’s in the fridge,” Steve informs you.
Making a sound of interest and curiosity, you ask, “What is it?”
Steve smirks and raises his eyebrows. “Went to the store and got one of those ice cream cakes Buck likes.”
“Well,” you start, “that will certainly be a nice treat for later.”
You and Steve share a smile as you both grab the food and milkshakes so you can bring it to the living room. The living room where you plan to have dinner and a show with your two wonderful super-soldier boyfriends.
Afterwards, you and Steve resign yourselves to standing around the kitchen, catching up on the last few weeks. You and Steve are ready to happily greet Bucky once the time comes that he opens the door.
It feels like time drags on and on while you two are waiting so you’re very much thankful when you finally hear the turning of the doorknob. You and Steve separate from where you had been wrapped around each other, turning and shouting Bucky’s name in excitement. Just as he walks through the door, Bucky is all bashful as soon as he sees his two boyfriends greet him with spread arms and wide smiles.
You look him up and down for the first time in quite awhile, Bucky just as gorgeous as he always was. He clearly showered and changed beforehand if the damp hair and sweatpants are anything to go by.
Bucky drops the gym bag, obviously filled with his dirty and possibly damaged suit, on the floor. He stretches his arms out, resting each hand on the back of your and Steve’s necks so he can pull you both in close to give each of you a kiss on the lips.
“Welcome home.”
“Welcome home indeed,” Bucky rumbles back, a heart-eye look sweeping across his face. You’re one of the two people on earth that gets to receive that look, not that you mean to brag or anything.
“I’ll take your bag and put it in our room,” Steve tells Bucky. Bucky thanks him before he pulls Steve into another kiss. It’s something you feel there’s going to be a lot of for the rest of the evening, which you look forward to.
Steve takes Bucky’s gym bag from him before walking off so he can do exactly as he said, leaving you and your other boyfriend by yourselves in the kitchen. Once Steve is out of reach, you feel Bucky’s hand move from the back of your neck to your waist, which allows him to pull you in close. He presses you against his chest so he can engage in a deep reunion kiss. It’s been a long time since you’ve last felt his lips against yours which is why you allow yourself to indulge.
You have to force yourself to take a step back. “Not that I'm not enjoying this, because I 100 percent am, but…” you trail off as you take Bucky’s hand in yours, ”we should go to the living room for your first surprise.”
“First surprise?” Bucky’s tone lilts in clear interest, eyebrows raising. It’s almost as if he’s joking but you’re able to tell that Bucky’s genuinely looking forward to what you and Steve have prepared for him.
“We haven’t seen each other properly in weeks. There’s a lot to catch up on.”
“Well, I am definitely looking forward to it. Lead the way, doll,” Bucky instructs you, causing you to chuckle before you turn away from him in order for him to lead him into the living room.
You present the done up living room with wide open arms and an enthusiastic ‘ta-da’ and it seems that if Bucky’s smile could get bigger, it probably would. He surveys your and Steve’s work before he turns back towards you and also Steve, who has just rejoined you and Bucky. “What do you think, Buck?”
“You know what I think, Stevie baby,” Bucky tells him, grabbing one of each of your and Steve’s hands. “I absolutely love it.”
Changing the subject a little, you say, “Well, pick a seat because none of us are moving for anything other than changing the movie and getting dessert.”
Bucky hums, his voice lifting up high at the end. “Dessert, huh?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve dismisses before his boyfriend could get any ideas. “You have to finish your dinner first.”
Bucky nods eagerly, not in any way bothered by being withheld dessert, before he takes his seat in the middle of the couch. He clearly wants to have his boyfriends cuddled up on either side of him.
“So, what do you want to watch first?” you question while you scoot the pile of movies closer to Bucky, who doesn’t take any time at all to begin picking out the movie he wants. And as it turns out, it’s a horror movie called The Apparition.
While he takes it from the pile, Bucky comments, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one fo these.”
“Horror movie, huh?” Steve jokes. “Trying to be our knight in shining armor while we cower behind you in fear?” you laugh alongside your boyfriends.
You settle back on the couch once you’ve taken the movie from Bucky and put it in the DVD player, which begins to play shortly after. You and your boyfriends snuggle into each other’s sides, feet pulled close to your bodies as you all munch on your food.
Well, it’s more like Steve and Bucky are eating their food. At the moment, you were less interested in your food and more interested in Bucky. Your boyfriend was distracting in general, both of them were. But it’s the smooth brown waves of Bucky’s hair that’s distracting you specifically. It looks so soft, especially so after Bucky’s washed it, and you just want to run your fingers through it, play with it for hours.
Your eyes wander down to your wrist as you continue to think about your boyfriend’s long hair, eyes catching on the little black band around your wrist. It’s a hair tie, one that you and Steve always have wrapped around your wrists for this precise reason. For tying up Bucky’s hair when he needs or wants to. It’s a habit to keep hair ties on your person constantly, originating right around the time Bucky was cleared to go on missions. He had decided that he wanted to keep his hair long, at least for the time being, so as the length of Bucky’s hair grew larger so did the need for hair ties at any given time.
You glance between Bucky’s hair and the hair tie, your self control wearing thin. After only a few seconds, you’re not able to help yourself from reaching your hand out to your boyfriend’s beautiful brown hair. You weave your fingers through a few strands is all it takes for your desire to skyrocket.
Tangling both of your hands to Bucky’s hair, you feel him pause in his eating but you pay it no mind as you begin to languidly braid his hair. It’s not long before another pair of hands join yours. Looking over, you spot a giddy Steve on the other side of Bucky. It appears as if your thoughts have rubbed off on him because he grabs the other half of Bucky’s hair so he can braid it alongside you.
Bucky chuckles, clearly amused. “You two are ridiculous.” Although, you wonder if Bucky can really blame you.
“Your hair is really beautiful, though,” Steve adds. Bucky doesn’t say anything in response, not that it matters. The blush that highlights his cheeks for the next five minutes is telling enough.
You and Steve share knowing looks as you both continue to braid your boyfriend’s hair, permanent smiles stretching across your faces.
(NOT MY GIF)
Main Blog // Other Side Blog
((NO ONE HAS MY PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE EVEN WITH CREDIT))
200 notes · View notes
marauder-exe · 4 years
Text
Sick of it- Aaron Hotchner x Reader
Request: I’m not sure if you’re taking requests rn...but I would love to see a fic with hotch where maybe he has feelings for the reader who’s in her 20s and she gets injured on the job, leaving her deaf. She’s able to continue working with the BAU but can’t do any extensive field work. She just gets sick of everybody questioning her capability of doing her job.   Sorry if that’s too much lol 🤷🏻‍♀️🤦🏻‍♀️ Word Count: 1.1k
Warnings: bomb explosion, loss of hearing, angsty but happy ending kinda.
A/N: Welcome back to: Reid loves cliffhangers (in actuality she can just never finish fics)
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“Hotch I've told you I'm fine, We got everyone, we detonated all the bombs. Morgan and I are doing a last clearing of the scene, then we’ll be on our way back” You spoke into the phone while continuing to search the area. “Okay, I just-” He hesitated. He couldn't let you know about his feelings. “Your one of the greatest agents this team has ever had, we need you.” He decided to say instead. He always covered his feelings with business. He sighed on the other end of the phone. “Thank you, Aaron” He could've sworn his heart skipped a beat every time you called him Aaron. “i am fine though I prom-” Your words were soon cut short when an ear-splitting explosion echoed through the receiver, quickly followed by a scream of your name from Morgan. His heart dropped. There was a deathly silence. “(Y/N)! Morgan! Whats going on?” His heart clenched at the thought of anything happening to you. He had gained feelings for you around year ago. You had been transferred from Interpol, and quickly proved to the team that you where everything you got cracked up to be. The day he realised it, he felt so guilty. You were 24, he had feelings for a 24 year old. You where old enough to be his daughter. He couldn't do that to Hailey. He tried to repress his feelings. Push so much stuff down on top of them, so he couldn't feel them any more. It never worked though. He turned around to the startled faces of his team, confused by his shout. “Hotch? Whats wrong?” JJ asked, taking in his pale face. “Its-Its (Y/N). i-i heard an explosion and then Morgan shouting her name and then-and then nothing” He dropped the phone he was holding, as if the shock had just knocked him back into action. He ran from the small police room that the team had set up into his jeep. Turning it on, ignoring the shouts of his team, he sped off down the street. “JJ, update the sheriff, me and Reid will go after him” Emily said, loading into her jeep.
The wait was horrendous. It was perhaps the longest wait of his life. Or at least it felt like it. He sat in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, his knee bouncing rhythmically. He was surrounded by the team, it was clear him and Morgan were the most affected though. Morgan having been there when the bomb went off. He thought about everything. The time you shared together. All the days off that were sent together. The laughs that were shared. The tears that were shed. He thought of it all. He also thought about how he didn't tell you. Didn't admit his feelings for you. And no you might die thinking that no one loves you. It was bitter torture, watching the doctors walk in and out of the waiting room, none of them for you. Until finally, a young male doctor approached the team. “uh, Mr Hotchner?” He asked towards him. His head shot up as he immediately walked over to the doctor. “Thats me” “Shes stable. But she did suffer extensive injuries, im aware the bomb was directly next to her?” He nodded. “Shes lucky she survived, but he did. There wont be much permanent damage. Although we don't know to what extent, we imagine she suffered massive hearing loss. We've assessed her and right now she cannot hear anything, she's completely deaf. We don't know if that will improve in the future” The young man informed Hotch. His stomach dropped. He couldn't believe he let this happen. It was all his fault. He let you go. He didn't even come with you to the scene. He could've stopped it. He completely derailed your life. You where 24. You had so much more that you could do. “You can visit her now, she's lucid so she should be fine” The team sprang up to go to your room. They carefully entered the room, hoping not to startle you, Although you already looked panicked. They assumed the doctor told you about your condition. Your head perked up when you saw your team coming through the door. Tears still streamed down your face as Hotch rushed over to you. “Hotch-Hotch, im deaf, im not- im not gonna be able to my job i-” You sobbed as he cradled your face into his hands. He knew you knew sign language but he didn't. He looked around as his teams sad faces. Prentiss looked at him. “I- I know sign language” Emily stepped forward next to your bed, and began explaining everything.
“I can do my job Hotch! Just because I cant hear any more doesn't mean im less able than anyone else out there” You snapped, gesturing to the room full of profilers. It had been a hard 6 months. You had recovered perfectly well, you hearing, not as much. You weren't aloud to do field work any more. You were constantly stuck doing paperwork, or in some stuffy police room. An ignorant comment from a police officer on your recent case had caused you to snap. “i know you can” He tried. Since the explosion, you had mastered lip reading, as well as gotten a hearing aid, as it was more convenient. “So why! Why has everyone been baby-ing me for the past months? Im so sick of everyone, even people I don't know, treating me like im unable to do the job Ive been working for my entire life! Im sick of it” You burst out, glad for the soundproof room. “No one is babying you” He returned. You scoffed and raised your eyebrows. “no ones been babying me? Okay. Dont act stupid Hotch. You see the way everyone acts around me. Constantly stepping on eggshells. I may of lost my hearing but I still have my profiling skills. Even you Big bad boss Hotchner has gone soft, something I never thought id see” “I haven't gone soft” He insisted. He had gone soft. Well he had always been soft for you, but now he showed it. “No? So whats all of it for? The driving me home, checking my place everyday, bringing me take out, making me dinner, bringing Jack around more often, Whats that for then?” You threw your arms around angrily. He was gonna say it. He couldn't stop it. “Its because I love you! I recognised you need help, now I finally have an excuse to do everything ive wanted to do for the last year.” He snapped back. He couldn't believe he had just said that. And by the look on your face, you couldn't believe it either. “What?” You whispered, heart race speeding up.
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satoruvt · 3 years
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fanfic writer tag game <3
helloooo <3 thank u for tagging me @hannie-dul-set this is so cute lol
ummmm! i think i will tag. @leejuyeeon and @seokmingiggles !! and as always anyone else who wants to <33
peum ~
1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?
omg lets see if i can do this in order. i think the first fandom i ever wrote fanfic for was creepypasta LMAOO and then... fairy tail? then 5 seconds of summer, then maybe it 2017?? voltron legendary defender, detroit become human, monster prom and mystic messenger kind of overlapped, the arcana !!! then my hero academia, haikyuu, a Little bit of demon slayer... i think thats it lol
2. what fandoms are you currently writing for?
seventeen is all for rn, but i’m thinking of also writing for mha again and adding jjk!!
3. how long have you been writing?
oh wow for like... probably around 6 years? maybe 6 and a half
4. on which platforms do you post your stories?
rn just tumblr, i used to post more actively on ao3 but i havent since i started writing for kpop
5. what is your favourite genre to write?
ahhh like !!! comfort fics!!! i think theres something really sweet in those unspoken feelings during moments you think you’ll never forget... the idea of being with someone and you’re just so sure they’re your favorite person, and then warmth that comes with that realization... wahh
6. are you a pantser or a planner?
oh it depends i think. for longer fics i like to plan them out, but i really wing it with like timestamps or shorter ones
7. one shot or multi-chapter?
ONE SHOTS. my god i fucking suck at multi-chapter shit LMAOO ive only done 1 series like that and it was so rough for me lol
8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?
hm how do i explain this... anything that makes sense? however long it takes for it to feel like the chapter/fic is summed up or completed. i used to worry about word counts a lot but now i rarely pay attention to them, both in reading and writing
9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?
if we’re talking about multi-chaptered, then the color of you wins at 17k !! in terms of one shots, it’s for now; forever at 9k!
10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?
oh boy. i think... anything from the last like. 8 months? my svt stuff for sure!! i went a while without writing in between like january-late november 2020, and i was worried that my writing would suffer a lot... it took a sec for me to get back into the groove of things but i’m feeling happier than ever with the stuff i write now. i feel like ive matured about the way i approach my own writing and ideas, and how i do everything, and my fics make me really proud. ive started writing within different aus that i hadnt touched before, or talking about different feelings or ideas, etc... i really feel like ive grown with this most recent burst lol, and i love working on them! i get so hyped up when im in the middle of writing or even planning, im just so excited to share all of it hehe
11. favorite request you've have written and why (if any?)
ah its been so long since ive worked with requests that i cant remember anything LOL
12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?
yes. it is comfort and content. it is the feeling of love. it is holding hands on a walk in the middle of spring and smelling flowers. it is the sound of leaves when a gust of wind blows past. it is looking into ur lovers eyes and feeling nothing but pure fondness
13. current number of wips?
fuck like somewhere around 20 probably
14. three things you have noticed about your own writing?
i really like repetition (specifically in sentences if that makes sense??), LOTS of unspoken things (even if i picture a fic with an established relationship, i dont say it within the fic; and especially concerning romantic feelings, i love when things go unsaid and are FELT full force), i think a lot of detailed rambling... i really like to try and describe emotions and stuff in the most abstract and obscure ways lol i feel like it makes things a little more palpable and honest
15. a quote you like from a published story
im gonna do a few. Lol. firstly this long one from pretend people can unlearn:
“Are you…” Jeonghan starts, and when you look at him, his eyes are still on the city in front of you. “Are you ever afraid that we’ll fall out of love?”
It never occurred to you that this was love. It’s not like the love you’ve experienced in the past, not even close. But maybe… maybe that’s why you never leave, why you hold yourself back from certain arguments like it might fix everything. Maybe love is the reason why Jeonghan still seems to believe in you. Why he promises he’ll be the best thing for you despite always breaking that promise.
(Is it love, a voice in your head questions, or is it longing?)
It takes you a while to respond. “I don’t know,” you end up saying, because you really don’t. Jeonghan turns his head and looks at you, and you half expect him to start an argument in the middle of night, out on the street like this. It wouldn’t be the first time. “Would that… be okay?”
“I don’t know,” Jeonghan answers, just like you. His voice is soft. You want to reach for his hand just to hold it. “You’re still…”
He pauses, like he’s trying to find the right word. You let him take his time, for once, instead of accusing him of the worst. “I’m still?”
“Everything,” he tells you. He looks so sad and you reach out for him because it’s the only thing you can offer. You think the worst thing about your relationship with Jeonghan is that you will always believe him when he gets like this, just like you’ll believe him when he takes it back in the heat of a fight.
next is from like there isn’t something missing <3
But you’re crying into his chest because it’s not you, and it’s not him. Seungcheol wonders if it was always meant to be like this, if the two of you were always meant to part or if something… if something just went wrong, somewhere. A bump that did a bit more damage than either of you thought.
He tries not to think about it now. Tears fill his own eyes as he presses a kiss to your hair because he loved you. He truly did.
“I was so lucky to love you,” he murmurs, voice a cracked whisper. “I’m so happy I got the chance.”
When Seungcheol wakes up the next morning in an empty bed, he’s not surprised. But the Post-It note that’s dressed in your handwriting…
Well. It’s over.
and this last one from only for you, i will dance !!
“This will always be our own time,” he says. “We’ll meet here.”
You know. He says it every time. It never fails to make your heart soar.
“Our thirteenth month,” you say, just like every time. Chan smiles.
He kisses you so strong you feel yourself falling.
16. a quote from an unpublished story
ahh ok ill do a few here too!!! one is something ive begun writing, the other is one that i’ve just been working on planning out <3
Smoke blows past somebody else’s lips and partially obstructs Wonwoo’s view of you.
He hasn’t been to a party like this in a long time. It’s elegant, more of a gala than anything. He can’t remember who threw it or for what reason. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes, watching you make conversation with the partygoers. They all have old money to throw around, the symbolism stitched into their suit jackets and red-rimmed heels; remnants of it left on tables and in the contents of expensive cigars.
You play them like you are one of them, tell them the right things with a silver tongue. Wonwoo always watches, plays the part of an observer. It’s impressive, the way you float around the room like it’s nothing.
Wonwoo observes; Wonwoo knows things.
and the second one...
"you don't know me," you respond. your voice carries no bite, just a fact, and joshua knows this
"i want to," he says after a second. "if you'll let me."
and he's asking permission to be your friend, to be close to you, something so tender and strangely polite
it makes you feel almost sad
"don't expect too much," you say, a little teasing. joshua only smiles
17. space for you to say something to your readers
wahhh thank you all so much!!! when i first got into writing for kpop it was a lot different mostly because i think... i was writing stuff for different anime before, and i had built up a big following because of that and my works always did like, really exceptional in terms of notes and feedback and such, and getting into kpop... has been rough on that end 💀 but i appreciate your support thus far, even if it’s small... i’m still working towards a standard that i have for myself!!! so please be patient with me, thank you for the support !!
also please find it in yourself to leave lil comments or any sort of feedback... please..... PLEASE... any creator ever understands this struggle please always try to do this!!! for me and for any other creator you follow and enjoy content from <333
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amoristt · 6 years
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Not My Boyfriend | Nathan x Reader
disclaimer: i know nathan is not a good person. i am not putting a blanket over his actions in this fic. i, the writer, understand he’s not an innocent character and has made many terrible choices. im just answering people’s requests, please dont put me under the fire for it.
thank you.
Anonymous asked:  CAN YOU DO NATHAN X READER (FLUFF 15) PLEASE! ;U; AND MAYBE A FLUFFY KISS TOO!
sure thing! this was a lot of fun to write :3 hope you guys like it! the prompt is, “He’s not my boyfriend!”
reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)!
story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!
Not My Boyfriend
A bird landing inches away from you was a softly lived moment. Fingers that were previously punching numbers into a calculator froze. You barely moved to look up from your homework, all those menacing papers sprawled haphazardly over the wooden picnic table, as to not scare it. It was small, barely larger than the palm of your hand. It’s eyes were beady and unexpecting, it’s wings tucked safely against its fat little body. It hopped from one spot to another, occasionally leaning forward to tilt it’s little head at your calculous. If not for the lack of color in it’s eyes you’d have thought it was confused by your scribbled text.
“Me too,” You breathed, and just that little sound scared it away. You watched it go all the way until it disappeared behind a hefty building, red with bricks and green with vines creeping up the edges. A disinterested sigh passed your lips, your mind bored and exhausted from grinding it’s gears all day. It was noon and you were halfway done with your work, but there was still a small pile of papers that demanded your attention. Even the sight of them made your headache worsen, the pulsing racing in between your temples.
Spring break had come to a sorrowful end. Goodbye sleeping in, goodbye staying out late, and hello school life once again. The eraser of your pencil tapped against your lips idly, fingers itching to do anything than continue writing. You missed summer vacation so much it felt like it was a dull ache in the pit of your chest.
Surviving winter was hard for a summer lover like you, and you spent most of your christmas and winter breaks holed up in your dorm once you came back from visiting family. You weren’t alone there of course, either with your few select friends or your boyfriend, but you’d rather have died than went outside in the snow and freezing cold.
You smiled at the memory, though. You hated winter but staying inside wasn’t bad. Watching movies wrapped in blankets, the taste of hot cocoa on your tongue, the feeling of an arm slung over your shoulder. Half of the time you were never even focused on the movie playing, too caught up in the lips pressed against your own, the hand tugging through your hair, the taste of him.
Nathan Prescott.
Kissing Nathan outside of a party was like spotting the wildest rose, beautiful but distant. Never outside the walls of your dorm did he trace the shape of your jaw, kiss at your collar bones, or let his palms glide down the valley of your back. With soft background noise and a blanket he let himself feel you wherever he pleased, and you welcomed it. He himself wasn’t too much of a fan of the feeling, sometimes recoiling when you touched at him, but he couldn’t get enough of the feeling of your skin. Even subconsciously his hands would drift as close at they could, briskly grazing you.
Outside, however, was another story. In solitude he was never the iron-clad, hard headed asshole his reputation so easily displayed him out to be. He was sarcastic, sharp, and he was far from sickly sweet, but he wasn’t Arcadia Bays’ infamous Nathan Prescott. He was your Nathan. He was your Nathan that kissed you on your shoulders but also laughed when you fell off the bed. He was your Nathan that took photos of you, made you look like an angel, but he also was your Nathan that would sometimes draw devil horns on them.
In the winter he was your Nathan that snuck into your room and brought you cocoa, and in the summer he would ‘accidentally’ lose the key he stole from you in order to lock you outside for the day.
He had many sides to him, sides that no one would get to know, but he wasn’t evil. Devious, almost annoyingly so at times, but never… Malicious. Of course he could be, and you knew that. He could be the most volatile person to walk the halls of Blackwell should he want to, but when it came to you he would sneak along the hallways, slip into your room quiet as a mouse uninvited just because he ‘felt like it’. Truth be told, he missed you.
In your back pocket your phone vibrated, making you realize you’d drifted deeper into thought than you had intended. Without even looking at the notification you were already smiling- you knew who it was. Sure enough when you retrieved the device his name lit up clear as day, ‘yorkie’. It was a teasing remark you’d called him once while comparing him to dogs, and you settled on yorkie because they’re small but act like demons. He wasn’t too thrilled over the choice but you thought it was funniest shit, so you ran with it. 
When you learned your relationship with Nathan would have to be hidden from the school, you chose the first nickname that came into your head for his contact.
‘where r u?’
Before typing out your reply you gave a quick look-see around, making sure it was just you at the lonesome, miniature park. When it was first built it was overflowing with kids, but soon parents learned that 2 swings, a merry go round, and a few picnic tables wouldn’t suffice for entertainment. Without the shrill cries of toddlers and kids, you’d found it made an excellent study spot.
‘park. catching up on some hw rn.’ You leaned forward, elbows resting on the scratchy wooden surface. ‘why :0? anything up?
He replied almost instantly, a simple ‘nah. dont go anywhere, im gunna b there soon.’
‘wouldnt dream of it. see u soon’
You set the phone to the side and sighed, looking down at both your finished and unfinished work. It taunted you, and you swore it sounded like they were laughing when a warm breeze sent a few pieces fluttering. Drained, you started to gather all of the worksheets up, stacking them atop each other and then scooting them down the table. It almost physically hurt when you grabbed an unfinished sheet, the words ‘chemistry’ causing you to inwardly groan in defeat. With all this work you cursed your past self for not doing it bit by bit over break in order to avoid a situation like this.
By the time Nathan arrived, hands shoved in his pockets and his head ducked down like a stalking cat, you had gone through 2 more sheets and your headache had doubled. You waved a worn-out hello when he came into your view, and he took a look at your current state of being and shook his head.
“Seriously?” He scoffed, hopping onto the seat beside you. “You’re actually doing this all?”
“Course I am,” You added one more sheet to the finished pile. “I do want to get good grades, you know.”
Nathan leaned on one arm, his angular chin propped by an even more angular hand. “Just cheat like everyone else.”
“The last time you suggest that I failed entirely.” Although you tried to sound scolding, all that came out was an airy chuckle.  He rolled his eyes and his hand fell, his other coming up to join beside it. You grinned at him. “Is this too boring for you or something?”
“Actually?” he jumped up and sat on top of the picnic table rather than on the seat. With a look of almost disgust he read over the last sheet you’d finished. “Yeah, this is boring as fuck. What’s with the stack?”
A moan of anguish found it’s way out. “I was stupid and decided to procrastinate until last minute.”
“Why ever would you do that?” Nathan hummed, not looking up from your worksheet even when a knowing, sly grin took over his lips. You fought the urge to smack his knee.
“Not funny,” your pencil drew light circles at the corner of your paper. “This is seriously stressing me out.”
“So take a break then,” Nathan hopped down beside you again, his nimble fingers snatching the pencil right from your fingers. You wanted to argue, reach out and grab it, but you lacked the energy and motivation. Bad move, you learned, because the minute he stole your pencil he started writing crude phrases on the wood.
As he wrote you laughed, clicking your tongue and shaking your head. “You know kids see this shit, right?”
“Yeah, so?” He draw two circles beside each other and you rolled your eyes before he finished the piece. “Not like they know what it means anyways.”
“Yes but the parents do.”
“Oh no,” He leaned back again to admire his ugly work. “I’m so scared of little Tommy and his deadbeat, soccer mom.”
“Give me that back.” You swiped your pencil back now that he was finished, but the thought of returning to your work was a heavy one. Once again you cursed at your past self for thinking this would somehow all work out in the end. In the corner of your eyes you saw Nathan start to fidget with something he pulled from his pocket, and at that point you were desperate for something to gain your attention. “What’s that?”
He looked up at you briefly before turning back down to his item, then he set it out in front of him. It was a small camera it seemed, and cheaper than the rest of his devices, and it looked to be an instant camera along with that.
“I thought you were more into computer developed shots?”
Nathan used his sleeve to wipe at the camera's lens, then he shrugged. “I am, and believe me I wouldn’t be using his hipster piece of shit if I didn’t have to.”
Leaning forward you watched him toy around with the buttons. “So what’s it for then?”
“Photos, duh.” You shoved playfully at his shoulder and he smirked teasingly. “It’s something about the lighting I guess. Got a tip from a friend that instant cameras take the best candid shots.”
“Better candids, huh?” Slowly you reached out and grabbed at the camera, and Nathan surprisingly let you. Probably because he had little regard for the items’ safety- he could just get a new one. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.” In an instant you’d reached the camera out, facing it towards you and Nathan, and he rolled his eyes but slung his arm around you none the less. However, unfortunately, he put up his middle finger as well.
Still, you took the shot, and for a moment a light blinded you. Then the picture developed and slid out from the bottom, your fingers reaching out to snatch the pic and then shake it quickly. It was warm like freshly printed paper, and if not for the fact that Nathan’s middle finger was up it would have been a pretty light hearted and sweet image, something you’d hang up in your room.
“Don’t show that to anyone,” Nathan said, and it was disheartening to know why. He tried to sound teasing, the words playing a jesting ‘i look bad there’, but it was deeper.
Your relationship was a secret to the outside community, a spectacle only you and him could observe. Sometimes it was okay, as it made you feel special. Only you knew the things you and him did behind closed doors, only you knew the feeling of the pads of his fingers trailing over your goosebump riddled skin. Only you knew the softness of his lips, the sharp angles of his jaw, and how dewy-eyed he got when you woke up beside each other. Other times a shallow and cold feeling tugged at your chest. Albeit never questioning why he chose to keep everyone in the dark, you knew he had his reasons and you weren’t going to pressure him on them. But… You still wondered. A million ideas would race through your head at night. Why, why why. However your qualms were quick to be distinguished when he’d show up at your dorm and find his way under your blankets, his body lean but radiating like a furnace.
The picture was still warm against your fingertips, and you smiled down at it. “Why not?” You playfully whined, both seriously and teasingly. “You look so cute here.”
Nathan rolled his eyes and tried to grab at the picture but you were too quick, leaning away from him and taking the photo of out his reach. He tried again, this time leaning over you in the process, but you got up and rose your eyebrows.
“Don’t make me chase you,” He narrowed his eyes, but they were anything but angry. He was enjoying himself. “We both know how that always ends up.” Waving the photo tauntingly in the air, he started to get up from his seat. The moment his feet touched ground you jumped, running left then right while knowing he was hot on your trail.
It was always so jarring how much faster he was than you. In seconds he was grasping at your shoulders, fingers catching the fabric, and you were turned to face him. Thanks to your speed you almost fell backwards but you caught his shoulders, managing to regain your footing. He was grabbing at the image and you kept it held close, a laugh rising at the feeling of his fingers poking at your skin. His footing faltered and you took it as a moment to make your gleeful escape, but he caught your wrist and stopped you from going too far. Although fast, he lacked endurance, and he was out of breath as he  wrapped his arms around your waist to stop you from going anywhere. You swatted at his chest and squirmed, but found yourself trapped.
“Photo, now.” He demanded with a grin in knowing he had you caught.
You opened your mouth to tell him never, but another voice halted you.
“What’s all this?”
In that moment both yours and Nathan’s blood ran cold. He was so quick to let you go, the force making you stumble before you stilled and stared at the two figures approaching with wide, fearful eyes. Nathan seemed more irritated than afraid like you, and his hands balled into fists. God damn it, his eyes said, and you felt your stomach drop at the thought of him being upset over the fact that he’d been caught messing around with you.
Two teens, Blackwell students by the looks of their jackets, were close now. Your stomach churned when you recognized the speakers short brown hair, his red jacket that mimicked Nathan’s. Logan Robertson. Beside him you recognized Zachary, a slightly nicer but still equally malicious football player.
You and Nathan traded looks in knowing full well where this was going.
“You and ___?” Logan started in a taunting tone. “Never thought you for the type to go for the underdogs.”
Zachary leaned his head back to laugh before he spoke up too. “Gotta say it’s smart, Nate. The nobodies are so easy to pick up.”
The words hurt but you didn’t dare argue back. Your relationship was a secret, and it would be the end of the world if those two morons found out about it. With sand in your throat you swallowed down your pride, remembering the fact that yours and Nathan’s relationship was at stakes. He meant too much for you to lose just because two dickheads wanted to cause drama.
“That’s not-- We aren’t-” You stumbled over your words as you frantically tried to find out a way to explain what they had seen. Carefully you hid the photo behind your back. “We were just-”
Logan snickered. “We were- We were just- we- we- we- Spit it out, sister!”
“Studying!” Your tongue felt heavy. Nathan rose a brow and you squeezed your eyes shut at the vague and thin lie.
Zachary crossed his arms, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. “Bullshit. We all know Nathan Prescott doesn’t study.”
“Yes the fuck I do!” He chided, seeming personally offended by the jocks statement. “I study all the damn time, which is what you two lemmings should be doing too.”
“Since when do you care about class? You hardly even bother to show up half the time.” Logan said, and you swallowed thickly at the scene starting to play out in front of you. Logan’s eyes found you and he scoffed. “Don’t tell me ___’s the type of person to force her boyfriend into being good.”
Heat rose to your cheeks. They knew. They knew, they knew, they knew, and yours and Nathan’s relationship was as good as over. Your chest felt like it was concaving and you acted out as quickly as your racing brain could allow you too.
“He’s not my boyfriend!” You blurted. It was loud and forced, but it left all three of them stunned for a moment.
Among of all them, Nathan seemed the most taken aback.
You didn’t stay long enough for them to poke more at your words, pivoting off your heel and barreling straight for your papers. From the wind a few had blown from your pile and you carelessly grabbed at them, shoving and crumpling them into your bag. Nathan was saying something from where he stood but you weren't listening, already slinging your bag over your shoulder and taking your leave.
Suddenly the photo you still held in your hand felt like it weighed a ton.
It was a few hours until you managed the courage to text him again.
Though now riddled with a bad memory you were right back at the park, this time without the anchor of your school bag or the headache from equations. No, all you had with you was your phone, your wallet, and that damn photo. You’d forgotten that on the way home you shoved it into your pocket and upon returning to the park to relax, it crossed your mind again. Although planning to spend some time alone, the sight of you and him happy together made you do something you’d been thinking about for months.
Step one of your emotionally drenched plan was to invite him to the park, and it was an invite he took without argument. Something felt off in his text, it felt… careful, like he knew exactly what was coming. A storm brewed in your gut.
The wait for him to show up was a relentless one, and the whole time you considered the idea of backing out, but it seemed fate would have it otherwise because when you picked your phone up to text him ‘nevermind’ you saw the photo again. It sat on your lap like a brand, and you set your phone back down beside you and groaned. This could be the end or a very fruitful beginning.
Step two was put into motion when he arrived, spotting you on the merry go round where he took a seat beside you. He was smooth in his motions, much more thoughtful than he was earlier. The way he glanced side to side before approaching you did not go unnoticed.
With the hours that passed the sun fell, and now that it was early in the evening everything was saturated in a brilliant gold thanks to the setting sun. If not for the ton of bricks that rolled around in your stomach you would have appreciated the scenery a bit more, but the nausea welling in your throat couldn’t be overridden by pretty clouds or the golden hour.
“What’s up?” He asked, breaking the silence you formed unawarely. He was anxious with his words, like he was expecting some life changing news on your behalf.
You shrugged casually despite the raging fire in your head. The last thing you wanted to do was rile him up. “I just,” The sand formed in your throat again and you almost gagged on it. “Wanted to talk about something.”
“Earlier?”
Lips pressed into a tight line, you nodded glumly. He made a noise of distress and leaned back, his gaze unset and unfocused.
“Look, they’re assholes, but I don’t think they’re gonna go telling everyone shit about me and you.”
“That’s not it,” You shook your head and pressed your hand against your throbbing temple. “The thing is, I don’t care if people know.”
“You seem pretty fucked up about it, though.”
“That’s because I know you wanted to keep it some big secret.”
Nathan took note of your words, eyeing you with knit brows. “I don’t want us to be some ‘big secret’, that’s just kind of how it has to go.”
“Why?” Your hands fell against your lap and you frowned up at him, but he wasn’t looking. “Why do we have to keep everything to ourselves?”
“Why does it matter so much?” He finally looked down at you, his expression tight, his jaw leveled. “What we’re doing is working out just fucking fine, isn’t it?”
You sighed. “Yeah, yeah it’s working.”
“Then what's the big issue?”
“It just-” you ran a hand through your hair roughly, trying to find the right words. “I don’t see why we can’t tell anyone! I mean yeah it’s fine, we’re working, but just- tell me why it’s so important that no one knows.”
“Because you'd fucking hate it if everyone knew!” His voice held so many emotions, but the two most prominent was the obvious anger and the less obvious worry. “Believe me, ___ if people found out you were involved with me you’d run for the fucking hills.”
You blinked at him, lips parted. “Why would I leave you?”
“Are you serious?” He looked down at his lap. “God, you’d get attacked. Maybe not physically but fuck, you’d get ripped into. Do you want to end up like me?”
Your gaze lowered to your legs, the photograph on your lap. “You seem to handle it just fine.”
“If you call drinking and starting fights ‘just fine’ then hell yeah I’m doing great.” He picked at his pants absently. “Never better.”
“Nathan,” You looked up at him. “I don’t care what people say about me. The years almost over, highschool drama is highschool drama. It doesn’t matter in the real world.”
Nathan groaned, rubbing his cheeks with his hands in stress. “It goes way further than that.”
“So what then?” That heat rose to your cheeks but it wasn’t accompanied by the fluttering of your heart. No, it was anger, a sinking and hot stone that ground against your bones. “We just date in the shadows where everythings nice and fucking cozy?”
“What’s wrong with that!”
“Everything!” Now it was your turn to rub at your face, irritated and huffy. “I don’t want to have to constantly feel like I’m being watched when I’m with you! I don’t want to have to worry about seen all the time, and I sure as hell don’t want to keep feeling like you’re ashamed to be with me!” You were talking so quickly, so fervently, you forgot to think before you spoke. You blurted out a thought that had eating away at you, and he gaped at you for it.
“You think I’m ashamed of you?” He asked, voice low and hissing. “That’s what you think this is about?”
You swallowed thickly and tried to eat the lump forming in your throat. “Sometimes.”
Nathan’s features softened, and he leaned back to look up at the sky. “___, that’s not… Shit, that’s not what this is about.” He sighed. “I just don’t want you to get all hurt because some hipster bitch won’t leave you alone. The thought of you going off and leaving me because of drama sucks.”
“I wouldn’t leave you over that.” You croaked. “I wouldn’t.”
“It’s easy to say that now.” He said, mostly to himself, but you responded anyways.
“I wouldn’t leave you over pointless shit, Nathan.” Using your sleeves you wiped roughly at your eyes. “I just want to- I just wanna be able to do shit with you outside my room is all.”
“What can we do outside your room that we can’t inside?”
You shrugged. “It’s different outside.” Through the ever growing blurriness of your vision, you looked up at him.
Nathan’s eyes seemed farther away, facing into the trees that surrounded the dingy little park. His silence was deafening and fear crept under your skin, made your face heat up in anxiety. You felt like you’d screwed up pretty badly, like you’d ruined something. The lack of an answer, even if it was just an irritated sigh, made you antsy. When your lips parted to speak up he beat you to it.
“If you can handle it,” He started, closing his eyes, giving in. “Then sure, whatever.”
You blinked at him slowly, processing. The thought of being open with him made your chest feel like it was filled with cotton. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. If you really don’t care then…” His eyes opened, and they were almost golden with the setting sun's reflection. “Then I don’t either.”
A smarter part of you knew that you shouldn’t be as starstruck as you were. Being with Nathan had a price, and it was a damaging one. It was easy to claim that you didn’t mind some harassment here and there since you were alone, safe with him, but what would happen when you were alone? You weren’t the strongest, you weren’t the fastest. You didn’t want to use Nathan’s name as a shield, either. If some asshole decided to make your day hell then you were stuck.
But, a dumber, romantic part of you, didn’t care. So much of you wanted to touch him, fingers longing to lock and intertwine with his own. Nathan was bony and uncomfortable yet your heart stuttered at hugging him, leaning against him, lying beside him. He was so closed off and guarded that when he finally did open up bits of himself you greedily couldn’t get enough.
“Good,” you breathed. Words tumbled against the tip of your tongue but they couldn’t take shape, your lips moving to try and force another sentence out. That same dry and full feeling returned and it was a miracle you could even speak at all when you asked, “Can I kiss you?”
Nathan was caught off guard. You could see it in his eyes, the way they zeroed in on you before shifting back to nothing in particular. Beneath you the merrygoround creaked as it barely moved. When he looked at you, uncertain, you swallowed thickly and readied yourself to apologize. However, you didn’t need to. He nodded once and ducked beneath the railing, and you met him halfway with your heart thudding in your chest.
It was a quick kiss, chaste and rather plain, but it was more than enough. He molded against you perfectly in those few seconds, his eyes closed and shoulders relaxed. Before it ended your fingers twitched to reach out and grab some part of him, hold him close, but he broke away before you managed to. Albeit having kissed before, this one felt different. You and Nathan had been lip locked for hours on end it seemed sometimes, wrapped around one another to the point where you had no idea where you started and he ended. However this wasn’t like those times. This kiss was shy and sensitive, and when you finally opened your eyes he wasn’t looking at you anymore.
“How was that?” He asked suddenly, his sentence rushed and wavery. You smiled and reached out to gently take the fabric of his jacket in your hand.
“Again.”
Once more Nathan looked down at you but his previous expression was gone, his qualms away with it. Oddly affectionate, warm even, a sight that you’d come to know but didn’t get to see quite often. He ducked under the bar again and just like before you met him halfway, your lips meeting more intense than they had before. This kiss you recognized. It was the type of kiss you felt when he was in a calmer state of mind, usually met when he’d just woken up from a long nap, or when he decided to get loving during a night in your dorm.
It was tender, and softer than anything you’d even known. He didn’t pull away moments later this time- if anything he deepened the kiss with a tilt of his head in the process. You fisted his jacket and tried to scoot closer to him, but found you were separated from the railing placed in between your bodies.
When you and him broke apart the last thing on your mind was the fact that you were still out in the open, able to be seen by whomever happened to be around. Instead you were focused on the light dusting of pink on his cheeks, and the way that his eyes darted from your own to something else in timidity. You realized that as much as this was new to you, it was even more new to him. He’d probably never had a public relationship before, not one that worked out anyways.
You grinned, a giggling laugh slipping past your lips. He scoffed at your bubbliness and rolled his eyes, shifting back onto his side of the railing and shaking his head. Still you saw beyond the action, taking mental note of the way his lips seemed to make an effort as to not curl up into a smile.  
Shards of the sun leaked through the trees, now fat with leaves as they should be, and they painted the side of his face. The merry go round creaked again as it slowly spun, your shoes lightly digging into the wood chips on the ground. Nathans hand rested close to your own, and it felt like he was wordlessly inviting you. Tentatively, as if reaching out to pet an animal, you brushed your fingers along his scarred knuckles and felt them twitch. He didn’t move his hand away like he used to when you’d accidentally brush yours against his own. Those moments stung, and now this would be the bandage.
The ride stopped drifting in circles, you watched the treelines beside Nathan, and you held his hand.
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