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straykids-97 · 1 year

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Scarlet

“When I am dead, I hope it may be said; his sins were scarlet but his books were read.”

Yunho is a patient man, but sometimes you wear his patience thin…

Warnings: Dom!Yunho(like actually heh), use of toy(riding crop), unprotected sex, pet names/nicknames, dom/sub dynamics, smut, also soft Yunho at the end Word Count: 3.1k

You met Yunho through mutual friends. At first, you were shy, Yunho was way out of your league. All the girls wanted him, but for some reason, he never brought anyone home. He hardly afforded them much attention either. He was the perfect gentleman, always so nice.

Until he met you.

He hardly spoke around you, at first you thought he didn't like you. Then gradually, he began to open up. He was adorable, and he was so blushy when the two of you talked for longer than 10 minutes. It made you melt, it was clear that the two of you were attracted to one another. But you were too shy to say something to him, not that you needed to. Yunho knew. He always knew.

When Yunho finally asked you out, no one was shocked. You two were perfect for each other. But there was something different about Yunho, you noticed. He didn't seem to eat or sleep, and after a few months, you finally confronted him. The answer you got wasn't what you expected. In fact, you thought he was joking. But, he wasn't.

But it made sense. Why was he so alluring. Why everyone was so drawn to him? Why he was so charismatic? It was because Yunho was a vampire.

That was his deepest, darkest secret, well one of them. Perhaps his second one was that he desired control over you. He wanted complete and total submission from you, in every way possible. You knew he was ‘kinky’ but the night he dangled those keys in front of your face changed your future. You were apprehensive at first, it was a lot to take in. After all, he had quite the collection of things.

He quietly watched you from afar, observing, waiting for the moment you had a question. Yunho immediately gave you a synopsis of what you picked up, no matter what it was. Ranging from its uses of it, to where it originated from. Even before you opened your mouth, Yunho was immediately answering the question you had. He wanted to share this part of his world with you. Even if that meant waiting for you to catch up to speed. And he had all the time to wait for you. You both had a discussion about what you wanted and didn’t want, and Yunho was wholly understanding that this was all new to you. After all, he didn’t want to push you away. Yunho very rarely chose a sub, let alone a sub who knew his secret.

After a while, he learned that maybe if you had the opportunity to explore the room alone, you’d be more open and honest. Figuring that you may be more comfortable if you had the chance to explore without him around. So Yunho allowed you the keys and told you to feel free to go through everything and anything while he was gone. “Call or text me if you have any more questions.” He gave you a soft smile and left you to your own devices.

You stood in front of the dark door, fidgeting with the keys for a few moments. You bite your lip apprehensively, take a deep breath and finally unlock the door. You were greeted with the smell of wood cleaner and Yunho. His scent was all over this room; he did admit he spent a lot of time in there. You walk toward the ‘whipping wall’, as you called it. Yunho found it adorable that you were naming the things in his playroom. But he couldn’t deny the fitting name. The wall was covered by things that all hung on hooks; from canes to tickling devices, Yunho really had one of everything. You were intimidated by the more brutal-looking devices and opted to look more closely at the less lethal-looking ones.

You were most fascinated with the whips and flogs, heat filling your cheeks and neck as you run your fingers over the riding crop. Maybe Yunho would use it on you one day. The thought made your legs clench. You clear your throat, trying to rid yourself of the heat you felt suddenly. You keep moving through the room for a while and decide that you were done exploring. You leave the room and make sure to lock it. Carefully put the keys back where they belong and go to the door, texting Yunho that you were going home for the evening. He texted back immediately and told you to travel safely. He followed it with a, ‘I’ll call you as soon as I’m through with this business.’

You catch a taxicab and ask to stop by the store before heading home. You remembered that there were something’s you needed to grab before getting home, and maybe grab something for dinner while you shop. You were dropped off at a store a few blocks away from where you lived; a good thing if you couldn’t find a taxi later. But you dreaded if you didn’t.

After leisurely browsing the aisles for the list of items you needed, your phone buzzes. Yunho texted you; any kinks I should know about Princess?

You gasp to yourself, sensing your legs clench. It surprised you that even now his dominant side was prevalent. Yunho explained that it was all involuntary because of what he was and that he was just used to making women feel this way. Even if it was on accident. Nonetheless, his question caught you off guard and you think that replying to his text while in public wasn’t appropriate so you leave it alone for now. You carry on throughout the store, calming yourself and preparing for that call Yunho promised you later. Lord knows you needed it. Yunho was very convincing sometimes, and who knows what he had planned for later… You gather yourself and finally check out. Surely enough after some trying, you managed to find another taxi to make it home before it got too late.

Sighing as you walk down the hall to your apartment door, you pull your keys out and let yourself in, kicking the door closed with your heel. You release yet another sigh as you kick your shoes off, struggling with your bags as you managed to semi-safely get out of your shoes. You tread into your kitchen to put your food away, not noticing the figure sitting in your lounge chair until you hear the lamp click on.

You freeze; heart skittering to a stop. You knew that sound very well, the lamp that was beside your chair… The one you spent hours sitting by the window with a book, cuddled up as Yunho watched from the safety of the darker side of the apartment. That lamp.

Slowly turning to see who let themselves into your apartment, you only see a figure. Their face darkened, the light of the lamp positioned just right to reveal only a silhouette. They’re wearing a black dress shirt, unbuttoned enough to reveal a broad chest. Those familiar collarbones were on display for you and only you. Their lithe legs were covered by tailored slacks that squeezed their thighs deliciously. And spread just enough to make your pulse race. His feet were bare, something that he had revealed many weeks ago that he only does when he’s in his ‘space’. Yunho explained that it gave him a better grip on the floor when he was in his playroom because the floor was wooden. But the thing that held your interest was a thin, hard riding crop that slowly and rhythmically tapped his thigh. His opposing hand held his head, his scarlet eyes watching you intensely.

For a moment, neither of you says a word as you scrutinize each other. Yunho’s beautiful eyes scanned your flushed features for a while until they landed back on your face. He splits the silence with a deep drag, “Didn’t reply.” His hoarse voice rumbled, making you jump slightly. It wasn’t loud, or even stern. His words almost sounded like a cat purring, and it sent shivers down your spine. “I-I was at the store.” Your voice broke at the end, making Yunho chuckle. “Why don’t you say it now, hmm?” He smacked his thigh once; the loud sound made you jump again. He held the riding crop up to his nose, moving it down the whip part of the crop until it landed on the clap, “Or maybe this speaks enough for you…” He runs his nose back along the riding crop, inhaling where your fingers danced earlier. “You dawdled on this one longest…” He drew away, his eyes regarding you carefully. “Come here.”

You waver for a moment too long and he slowly rises to his feet. “We’re in the space…” he trails off, referring to you two, “where you don’t get to disobey me.” His voice grows deeper as he hisses the end, his teeth baring at you. Your legs become goo instantly as you sink to your knees. Your eyes fall to the ground, remembering everything Yunho expected from you when you two played. You watch his feet appear in your vision and he stops in front of you. “Hairtie?” He requests. You hold your wrist out for him to pull the elastic off of your appendage. He moves behind you and pulls your hair backward, running his hands through it before quickly and expertly braiding it. Yunho hums a song to himself that vaguely sounds like Often, by the Weekend.

He takes a deep breath and wraps the long braid around his hand and yanks your head backward to look into his scarlet eyes. You mewl, heat spreading through your belly. “Crawl to the chair.” His voice was sharp, piercing your core and making your legs shake. Somehow he always makes it sound so alluring as if he was a walking sex God. The second he drops your braid you instantly do as you were told, pausing only when you were a few feet away from the edge of your sitting chair. You sink back onto your calves and wait for your next demand.

Your heart was sprinting; Yunho could hear it. It made him want to pounce on you, devour you right then and there but he had to take his time. You were new to all of this. Quite frankly, he didn’t care for playing. He just wanted to toss you onto your couch and rip all your clothes off and-

“Take your clothes off.” Yunho ordered. You sit there, unsure if you could stand yet. “May I stand, sir?” Your voice was soft and fragile, making Yunho groan softly. “Yes. Once you are done, back to your knees babydoll.” He approved of your memory; only calling him by his preferred play names, ‘Sir’ and ‘Daddy’. Yunho moved around you to sit in the chair, spreading his legs so that you were now in between them. His scarlet eyes watch your every movement, even the rise and fall of your chest. He most enjoyed the quickening of your pulse as you shifted, realizing what you were about to do for him. He was struggling to maintain his composure...

You shudder knowing that he was observing you strip, making you feel a little self-conscious. You had never done this before, stripping for someone that is. Or really anything that Yunho had planned for you, whatever it was. But you hoped he used that crop on you. Your thoughts cause you to bite your lip, and Yunho grins like a cat, “Penny for your thoughts, baby?” You shake your head, too embarrassed to say what you were thinking. Yunho chuckles, “A loss, for certain.” He drops it and continues to eye you as your fingers make quick work of your clothes. After a few moments, just as you were about to take your panties and bra off, Yunho holds his hand up, causing you to glance at him. “Leave those…” He trails off, his eyes shamelessly racking up your body until they landed on your face. Your cheeks heat up as he sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, surely puncturing them with his sharp incisors. “Come here.” He taps between his legs with the crop, and your feet carry you to stand closer to him. “Bend over my lap.” You gasp at his demand but still obey. It was like your body was not your own, but an appendage of Yunho’s. Yunho really was struggling now. You were being so good to him. He wanted to give you the whole fucking world, even if he had to make it burn just for you.

You lean over his lap, breasts pushing up as you lean over the arm. Your ass was stuck up in the air and Yunho took full advantage of the opportunity, grabbing a handful. “If you ever feel ashamed of your body, I’ll spank it out of you. Your a damn Goddess, y/n.” He purrs. After a few seconds, a harsh slap rang out into your tranquil apartment. “Yunho!” You choke, head whipping to peer at him. A cunning, seductive grin spreads across his features as he raises his hand to deliver yet another strike, his eyes holding yours as his palm connects with the other cheek. You yelp, your mouth dropping open as your skin warms up, the interaction between the two of you making you feel fuzzy as if your body was responding to his. Yunho quirks an eyebrow as he rests the crop on your backside, “Ordinarily,” he cocks his head as his free hand holds your chin, “I would make you look away. But,” he runs the crop between your asscheeks to your soaked core, making you whine, “I want you to look at me.” He delivers a soft quick pat to your clothed clit, making you pant.

You try to close your legs but Yunho’s foot prevented you from doing that. You didn’t even notice that his leg was wrapped around yours until then. He had you pinned to his lap, and the thought of him not letting you go made your pulse race. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, “The fragrance that you emit when you get horny makes me want to fucking eat you alive, y/n.” he reopened his eyes to reveal his eyes burning a brighter scarlet. “Yunho-” you begin to say but he stops you. “Sir.” He corrects, using the crop to spank you. The sting was sharper but didn’t last as long as when he used his hand. Your legs begin to shake as he spanks you three more times. “Do you like this, Princess?” You nod frantically, panting as your core clenches around nothing. No one had ever made you feel this way. You whimper when you realize that he had stopped. You begin to think you’ve done something wrong, but what you didn’t know was that you had made him snap.

He had you on your back, pinned to your carpeted floor in seconds. He didn’t speak as he burst the buttons of his dress shirt, ripping at the seams to get it off of him. Yunho’s mouth latched to yours, his right hand holding your jaw as his other peeled his pants off. Your mind was churning, jumbled with thoughts of what he was about to do to you. Yunho and you had only had sex twice but he seemed to be holding back, but not this time. He was going to give you what you deserved and deal with the consequences later. Yunho wanted to use you. Wanted to eradicate any hope of anyone that may come after him, but the thought of anyone else with you made him growl, there would be no one else. He would ruin you so completely that there could be no one after him, ever. And now that he knew you were just like him, he knew he was fucked in more ways than one.

There was another shredding sound and your panties joined his ruined shirt a few feet away. He pulled your bra down enough to expose your breasts, making him hiss. His mouth latched around your nipple making you cry out, his teeth sinking into your flesh. But his tongue was quick to lap up the blood that spilled out, filling you with even more passion. You groaned, running your hand through his hair as he thrust into you, both of you groaning with bliss; he filled you so completely that it was as if he was made just for you, and you for him. He groaned as he began to fuck you into the floor, the sound of flesh meeting flesh was pornographic. You prayed that your neighbors couldn’t hear, not that you cared at the moment.

Yunho’s scarlet eyes met yours, agitating with hunger and desire, and he buried his face in your neck. “I could fucking mark you right now.” he moaned, “no one will want you then. You’ll be all mine. No one elses.” You wail at his words, nails digging into his back as he fucked you harder. “Mine. Mine.” he growls, baring his teeth at you, gripping your jaw. “Yours.” You blubber. Yunho’s mouth falls open and a moan emits from the back of his throat. “Say it again.” he demands, thrusts getting shallow. Your mouth falls open, feeling your orgasm getting close. “Yu.” you plead, holding his shoulders as he goes faster. “Fuck, please say it again.” Dom Yunho was gone. He didn’t care anymore. He just wanted you to say that you were his again.

“Yu, I’m- I’m all yours!” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as he grinds against you, the tip of his dick rubbing the gooey spot inside of you. “Yu!” You cry out as your shatter. You tuck your head into his neck, holding him closer as you cry into his throat. He holds you as his hips stutter and he stops, letting out a throaty groan. For a moment you stay like that, unmoving. Well, apart from the shaking of your body as you came down from your high that was, you didn’t move.

Yunho pulls away and looks at your tear-stained cheeks. His thumb catches a stray one as it rolls down your face, “Are you ok?” He questions. You nod feebly as he gazes down at you with something akin to adoration maybe even love. Yunho offers you a soft smile as he pulls away, helping you to your feet. You were feeling tired as he holds you steady, “Do you want to lie down or take a bath?” He sweeps you off your feet and awaits for you to reply. “Bath.” You reply, curling into his chest finding solace in his warm body. Yunho carries you down your hallway to your bathroom, humming something that you didn’t recognize as he enters the bathroom.

Yunho finally found what he had been looking for for nearly 300 years; someone to spend his forever with.

Taglist: @anyamaris @vibessonvibes @s3onghwaswifey @whatudowhennooneseesyou

Working on cherry as we speak! As I work most weekends, it probably won't be up until Monday :( anyway, enjoy this utter filth for now you animals <3 plz lmk if you want to be tagged!

©️straykids-97

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #yunho smut #The Red Saga #ateez drabbles #yunho imagines #yunho x reader

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undead-supernova · 5 days

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This Love is a Shrouded Mystery

Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 (TBC)

Masterlist

plot: welcome to your well-anticipated album release party! you couldn't be happier...right?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: bro there's so much angst I'm sorry, mention of smoking & alcohol

easter egg count: 20

wc: 5k

note: I made the album cover/tracklist and wrote all of the lyrics mentioned in this chapter and I'm super proud of it! Thank you for reading my hard work hehhehehehee

ALSO DO NOT REPOST THESE LYRICS ANYWHERE ! Thank yew

He hated all the tiny things.

The way you crinkled your nose every time The Beatles came on. How you held your acoustic guitar like it was a delicate creature. The nights he would be up late practicing, only to find you passed out with your mouth slightly ajar and snoring. The mornings he spent listening to you making little sounds in your sleep, as if you were so close to saying something but didn’t know how. Your poetry and your music and your scent and your stupid smile you got whenever you looked at him and how grateful he’d been when he first noticed.

And he really didn’t hate it at all.

He just missed you.

It was fucking torture, being away from you. He sat up, night after night, wondering what you were doing. How you felt now. If you wanted him back. If he was better off without you. If you could ever speak cordially and what that would cost.

As if he truly cared about the answer or the consequences.

Eddie just missed you.

You stared at yourself in the floor-length mirror, looking over your outfit for tonight. Trying not to suck in your stomach, trying to let yourself be the person that you wanted to be.

A spaghetti-strapped crop top with Madonna-Whore Complex stitched in white across the breasts. Short shorts just to say Fuck You. Block-heeled boots laced up to your knees. All dolled up with a diamond necklace and thin rings. A velvet choker with a broken heart pendant in the middle.

There you were, a vision in pink.

There you were, a shell of the person you used to be.

Maybe it would be better to play a role tonight.

But nothing was able to halt the worry, halt the anxiety that coursed through your veins.

That last night, with your eyes glistening with grief, you’d told him you had to go into hiding. That you needed to get away from the public eye. That he couldn’t come with you. But he’d seen pictures of you since, albeit a bit blurry, running in and out of the recording studio in New York City.

There was an edge to your outfits now, with a touch more lipstick and heavier eye shadow. Changed your hair and painted your nails anything but your usual pink. Your face, the one that once held a permanent smile for the press, now hardened. Blank expressions. No smile, no feigned light in your eyes.

It was like you were wearing some kind of armor.

It was like watching someone trying to adapt to their surroundings.

Flailing, slipping.

Trying to prove to everyone else they can do it without thinking about the consequences of their actions.

Eddie could only hope you wouldn’t let yourself drown in the process.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you said for the third time in the last ten minutes.

If anyone had a goddamn braincell, they could see that you weren’t good. But this had been the last few months for you. Doing whatever anyone asked. Staying busy. In and out of the studio so often that it became your second home. You honestly couldn’t count how many times you’d fallen asleep—you got more there than when you were home anyways.

How could you when the only thing you saw behind your eyes were crashing waves, the roar of the boat as it pulled you further and further away from the life you desperately wished you were still living? You wrote and wrote and wrote, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to figure out how to apologize. How to profess your love. How to feel any semblance of desire to say goodbye.

Your label had been shocked when you’d gotten the album done so quickly after months of producing nothing—especially calling around and getting Halsey, Lucy Dacus, and Janelle Monaé to feature. Not to mention Maisie Peters who’d actually reached out to you. It was a match made in heaven, an album stitched and woven together by the bitterest fate.

The label gladly rolled everything into production, insisting that you do as much promotion as you could. So, you were a little money machine, doing bland Instagram reels and Tiktoks, practicing your smile in between takes. You were fine to be a puppet. You’d done everything they wanted you to, right? What’s a little bit more?

What’s better than tightening the collar on your losing dog?

“Can you get that done for me, sweetie?”

“It would be so nice if you could just do this one thing.”

“You know, the fans would love it if…”

“We’d be grateful if you just…”

“You look tired.”

You turned to Este, noticing her raised eyebrow and crossed arms. The past few minutes had been spent zoning out, trying to keep yourself from thinking too hard. But it only made things worse because all you could do was remember why you were trying so hard not to think. Your friends knew better, but you hated admitting to it.

“Just trying to wake up the excitement,” you lied.

“For yourself or for the label?” Becky asked.

You glanced over at the door before back at her. “Yes.”

“You got this, okay?” Mary encouraged, rubbing your back. “You’ll feel better once you get there. You know you will.”

“Yeah, you’re right. At least you guys are here.”

“We’d never miss it.”

A pang of grief washed through you at the reminder of someone who would most definitely miss tonight.

Eddie knew what tonight was—and he could’ve sworn it was going to kill him. Nothing hurt him more than not celebrating your album release with you. He was planning to show up and support you the best he could. Show you off. Make sure you felt as celebrated as you could be because you were so amazing.

But here he was, back in Wayne’s house for the weekend. Laying low, talking to the walls as if Wayne could hear him. Screaming at the ceiling for someone to give him a reason to make sense as to why his wounds were still bleeding. Even after five months.

Bouncing his knees on the edge of the guest bed, growing more and more anxious as the night fell. Going in and out of the back porch, cigarette after cigarette. Hoping and praying that Wayne was a ghost and was able to talk to him through the windchimes hanging by the front door. Feeling sick when they hadn’t moved. Not even once.

Fuck, Eddie should be there with you. He should be by your side.

Instead, he was ashing another cigarette and reaching for the Garfield mug hanging on the wall. Poured the last few sips of Jack Daniels left on the kitchen counter. Trudged back into the guest room.

Tried not to cry.

You were trying not to cry.

The party was spectacular, with all your favorite foods laid out and cake and your favorite music and your friends and, and, and…

It was everything you could ask for from tonight, but nothing you’d actually asked for. Clara had been sneaky, making sure that you assumed the livestream started two hours before it actually did. Brought you to this fancy restaurant, all decked out in themed balloons and pictures of you. A Congratulations banner and a big bottle of champagne for you to pop.

And you were happy, you really were. But there was just something that overwhelmed you about it all, something weighing on you. Something eating at your stomach, making it nearly impossible to eat or even talk correctly.

Scott kept you grounded the most, always giving you a word or two of encouragement. For the last five months, he’d been cautious of you. You knew it even if he never said it. Him and his wife, Rebecca, made sure to offer you a place to stay when New York started to feel like a stranger. And hiding out in Tennessee was never a bad idea, ending up getting a third home near him, just outside of Nashville.

Tonight was no different. It was in the way he offered you food, asked if you needed some more water. If you looked even remotely uncomfortable, Scott was there to direct you somewhere else. Kept whispering that you were doing great. Kept reassuring you that your album was amazing. That you were amazing. That it was all going to be okay.

And it was a daydream, a surreal experience you were still getting used to after five years slowly rising into the public eye. Now here you were releasing your third album, knowing in your bones that this was your best work yet.

And everyone was being so nice.

And the party was beautiful.

And you looked beautiful.

And…

And Eddie wasn’t there.

He wasn’t anywhere these days, actually. It was like he had vanished entirely. There were no paparazzi pictures, no fan sightings. Even People Magazine had him on the front cover literally saying, “Bad Boy Eddie Munson Mysteriously Disappears from Public Eye.” You were uncertain if he’d ever be seen again. And you knew it was your fault. All of it was.

What felt the strangest was how the internet was still speculating whether or not you and Eddie broke up. It had been five months and you hadn’t told your publicist to confirm it. Didn’t even speak of it.

The most peculiar thing was…neither had Eddie. There was nothing for anyone to do but question why the two of you hadn’t been spotted in public together even once.

Maybe one day you’d feel strong enough to bury this relationship.

Today definitely wasn’t that day.

And tonight definitely wasn’t it either.

But your album was all was about Eddie.

Everyone would know it.

And you just had to hope that one person out there would listen to it for the music and not for your real-life experiences.

But you guessed that was just how things would have to be.

So, you put on a smile and told yourself to get over it.

Smile for the cameras.

Come up with every way to deflect.

Since you’d broken up, it seemed that your label had set up a livestream for the fans to listen to the album with you at the same time. Experience it together. Get to send in questions. Get to connect. Eddie thought that was sweet, knowing how much you enjoyed talking to your fans.

And he knew he shouldn’t, but he really considered hopping on.

Was it a little weird for him to tune into the listening party?

Maybe.

But he wanted to hear the album, wanted to hear the songs you’d barely shown him when you were together. You were always so shy with your music you wrote for him—which was fair. He did the same thing, keeping any and all projects about you a secret. Hell, the new record set to drop next month was done in the last five, his fingers unable to do anything other than race up and down the neck. Stuffing his pick between his lips as he wrote and wrote and wrote. Tried to write himself out of whatever this black hole was that was starting to swallow him.

And now here he was, ready to hear what you had to say.

Sighing, he grabbed his laptop.

But maybe you were better off without him.

Maybe this was all for a reason and everything just had to happen this way. It would be a nice thought, right? A nice explanation for the twisting of your gut as you set up for the livestream. Standing on a pink stage, practicing your smile one last time before the cameras got the shot juuust right. Took a step to the right to show off a poster with the album cover on it.

All you could think as they counted down from five was, I hope Eddie is watching.

When Eddie saw you, he knew he’d fucked up already.

You were radiant, always a vision in pink. Always a vision, period.

The album cover had the name “Madonna-Whore Complex” with a picture in the center of bunched up silk—pink, of course. The same color you were wearing. The same color Eddie had yearned to wrap in his arms and make breakfast for.

And when Eddie heard your voice, his stomach flipped.

“So,” you started. “Before we even get to the tracks, I wanted to kinda explain the album title. I know people got a little weird about it, which is fair.”

Eddie could tell that you absolutely did not find that fair.

“But I think that we live in a society that is so obsessed with a woman’s place. If she’s happy with herself and comfortable with her sexuality, she must be seen as a villain or a whore. There’s no room for her to be a good person or even able to truly be in love.”

Something tugged at Eddie’s chest at the sound of you mentioning being in love. If only you’d said that to him five months ago. If only those words had left your lips, he’d have gotten on his hands and knees to make you stay.

But you hadn’t.

“It seems that you cannot be one or the other. Either you’re this harlot who runs through people like it’s nothing or you must be this chaste woman who is only allowed to be idle in the corner. I think that I’ve always been put in this position, and, with the content of this album, I feel like I’m able to both be satirical about those accusations and show the vulnerability of, um.” He watched your eyes dart away nervously before coming back. “The vulnerability of how that has affected my personal life and my personal relationships.”

“Oh, and I really love the back cover,” you said with a wide grin, shifting the subject. “Especially the track list and the font and, oh my god, the people I collaborated with? Incredible artists, right? I just feel really excited for you guys to hear it in a few minutes.”

It was then that he remembered he hadn’t looked at the track list, too anxious at the thought of you referencing anything about him on there. But of course, you did. What else would this album be about? Some other guy? He knew better than to speculate anything like that.

His heart began to race as he found it all laid out for him already, his words being spat back out at him. Something True. Could You Say the Same? Acceptance Speech. Trade You for the World. Could’ve Fooled Me.

Eddie’s stomach twisted, queasy with the exact anxiety that he’d spent the last few months trying to prevent. But he couldn’t run away from this. He was already here, watching you nearly trip over your heels in real time. Reading the titles out, each one feeling like a prison cell built just for him.

Shakily, you stated, “Okay, everyone. Let’s start the album.”

Took a deep breath.

Closed your eyes.

Eddie took a deep breath.

Closed his eyes.

And listened.

“Okay, my pretty boy…now move!”

Eddie felt like he was losing his ability to breathe. Track after track, jumbled with lyrics all meant for him. All written for him. Words upon words of poetry that told him how much you missed him and how guilty you fucking felt and how you just went ahead and chose the world over him and, dear god, it was all too much for him.

Grief settled in his chest at every line that he called his favorite.

Okay, Now Stop!

“Okay, now stop!

We're dancing dirty to The Beatles and the Stones.

Okay, now stop!

You're dancing pretty asking me to lead you home."

The Bisexual Slut (featuring Halsey)

“This one boy whimpers on his knees

Twenty girls beg to finally taste me

If I’m so greedy, so damn needy

Then why does their love come so easy?”

My Body, Your Choice

“Should I base my worth off your fickle insecurities?

Take a scalpel to my skin to justify your animosity?

If I’d known my body was stained with impurity

I would’ve begged my mother to deliver me with modesty

But I wouldn’t change a goddamn thing

Fuck you, I’ll never change a thing.”

Something True

“Tell me a story, one where love always dies

Say it with finality in your glassy brown eyes

Thread the needle to weave through our fate

Knowing the outcome, you still beg me to stay.”

Madonna-Whore Complex

“My halo slipped, and my limbs are sore

But his head seems to stay in between my legs

I’m wrapped around his fingers as they choke my neck

I’m his sweetheart, his princess, his saccharine whore.”

The Mess (You Once Called Yours)

“And your fingerprints stain this house

Baby, I’m haunted by your phantom touch

Oh, now I’m screaming and pleading, growling and howling,

‘Please end this agony, my love, it’s all too much.’”

Your Residential Coward

“Guess she’ll never really let me live that down

Throwing daggers at my portrait now that I’m gone

And now that I finally see my tilted crown

It turns out I was the jester all along.”

Could You Say the Same?

“Simple questions come with simple answers

That’s why I sew my mouth shut

The moment I saw you, wild necromancer

Devotion gnawed at my gut.”

Synonymous (featuring Lucy Dacus)

“Sucking in my stomach in attempt to survive

It’s like I’m fifteen again

All crooked teeth, low self-esteem, and love-deprived

Only coping with a wilted pen.”

My Gentleman

“You’ll never let me look away, that is the cerulean dream

Could be your future wife if we let our consciousness stream

And I confess I don’t think that would be too much to hope for

So keep talking like that, let the wine pour, pour, pour.”

Acceptance Speech (featuring Janelle Monáe)

“In the modern age, a sacrifice is already made

The moment that you’ve made a choice

But, baby, the problem always chooses herself

And suddenly she has lost her voice.”

Trade You for the World

“I stood in sepia tones while you bled electric crimson

Built the motivation before I built the scene

Led the poets astray, bathed them in patient indecision

Now I sit in vignettes of truth, desire what was in between.”

Back to the Beginning

“City after city, glazed in momentary dignity,

I chased the prophecy of my becoming

And, dear god, if I could tuck my tail between my legs

I’d run us right back to the beginning.”

Could’ve Fooled Me (featuring Maisie Peters)

“And we’re dancing around each other tonight

Elevators built like confessionals

Desperate to blanket myself in transparency

I wanna say, ‘Pretty boy, you’re sensational.

We weren’t the only freaks anyhow

But how could anyone not love you then?

And how could they not love you now?’”

Eddie watched you dance and party. Vaguely answer the questions about what certain lyrics meant. Focused on the sound more than the overall meanings. Thanked everyone for giving you this celebration and how you were very grateful for this opportunity.

And, peculiarly, you were handed a new acoustic guitar, soft pink and sparkling. Your name written in calligraphy down the neck.

“Um, so since this is a special night,” you said while trying to move your white capo down to the third fret. “I wanted to play a special song that didn’t make the album. It just didn’t fit the rest of the album’s vibe, so I cut it.”

You laughed and Eddie knew he was the only one who could notice it was out of nerves. You tested the strings, making sure everything was in tune.

“But I wanted to play it for you guys if that’s okay?” Laughing again, you shook your head. “I hope everyone said yes, otherwise this would be so embarrassing.”

You leaned into the microphone, glancing up at the camera as if you were making direct eye contact with Eddie and Eddie alone.

“It’s called Questionnaire.”

The chords were simple.

C, Em, Am.

F, G, C.

It rang out soft, sweet. Albeit a bit sad.

He noticed the way you chewed on your lip before you started, finding your groove.

“Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

How the fates wrap their hands around our throats, cutting off our breath?

Do you think about the way we live without sanctuary?

How there’s no guarantee when it’s over there’ll be anything left?”

Eddie felt a sickness wash over him as he heard you sing directly to him. You were right. It was different from the rest of the album.

He tried to gauge how you were feeling, knowing damn well the only way he could was through the music itself. How the change in chords matched the change in your emotions.

G, Am, F.

“Oh, oh, oh.”

Am, G, F.

“Oh, oh, oh.”

The camera pulled in closer to your face, as if they knew that Eddie was watching. Waiting. Pathetically desperate to hear what you had to say to him.

“Do you wonder if there’s any chance that this was all just a dream?

But there’s no fucking way you can’t hear me calling your name.

Do you wonder if there’s any chance we could wipe ourselves clean?

But there’s no fucking way to explain the way I’ve been claimed.”

You repeated the Ohs, belting out the last set before you changed the sound completely.

New chord patterns. New set of emotions. Harsh strumming, the sound growing louder and louder as frustration filled your voice.

“Do you know the clouds darken whenever you’re away?

Convinced myself that my storm would worsen if I’d stayed.

God, I need you now to answer my revelation.

Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

You repeated the line again, sounding angrier than before.

“Is there any dignity in self-preservation?”

The buildup faded away, the rough strumming turning light again as the chords of the verses returned. There was a small instrumental as the camera pulled out to show you on your pink throne, surrounded by the pink balloons and holographic streamers.

You were alone.

Eddie could just barely make out the tears trickling down your face as you began to strum each chord once.

“Do you think about the way we lived without sanctuary?

How we fought and you fought for me until I gave it all up?

I think about the way I live without your sanctuary.

How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

You sighed and sniffled softly before repeating it.

“How there’s no guarantee I’ll ever fall in love again.”

Despite no one being in the shot, he could hear applause coming from around the room. He could even hear Becky, Este, and Mary individually, all cheering you on.

He watched you stand, laughing off the emotions as you blotted the wetness around your eyes. “Okay, Now Stop!” started playing over the screen as people scrambled to disassemble the makeshift stage.

It occurred to Eddie then that there…had been no chorus. No hook. It was just a list of questions for him and statements for yourself. A bout of self-loathing and the guilt that he was only now starting to grasp.

And he realized that he too was crying, trying desperately to cease them with the back of his hand. And then his sleeve. And then the tissues he scrambled around the bedroom to find.

As soon as the livestream ended, Eddie pulled out his phone.

“You’re so brave for doing that,” Becky said, crushing you in a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

A broken smile met your lips. “God, everyone’s going to talk about it.”

“Let them,” Mary said with a scoff. “Who cares?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, knowing full well who you really wanted to talk about it. To hear it. To think about it.

Your phone began to vibrate in your pocket. As you pulled it out, something resembling belief in fate rushed through you.

Eddie.

You couldn’t suppress an audible gasp, taking a step back from the conversation.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” you mumbled before walking away quickly. Pressed that green button. Whispered, “Hello?”

“Oh, hey.”

His voice crawled over you in a rush of relief, an ease that had been missing for so fucking long. “Eddie, hey,” you said nervously, shocked by your own ability to say his name out loud.

“Hey, is this an okay time?”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good. What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he lied, fiddling with blanket. “I just wanted to congratulate you on the album. It’s really incredible. Your best work yet.”

“Oh, thank you, Eddie. Um, you think?”

“Hm?”

“That it’s my best work?”

“Of course it is,” he answered with a breathy chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You took your individual sound and expanded on it and made it into a high-quality concept album. And the lyrics are incredible. It’s beautiful.”

“That’s really kind of you to say. I’m really proud of it.”

“You should be.”

“Are you working on anything new?”

“Yeah, we’re actually finishing up the album now. Should be out next month if everything goes right.”

“I bet, um. I bet it’s incredible.”

Eddie’s chest tightened at your hesitation. “Each song transitions into one another. You’d think it was cool.”

“I’ll have to listen to it. If, um, if you think I should.”

Swallowing a sigh, Eddie closed his eyes and tried to focus on keeping his voice level. Keep from cracking. Keep from begging for you to come back.

“It’s only if you want to,” he replied, trying to stay neutral before moving on. “Are you doing okay? I know you get really anxious after being, like, out in the open for a while.”

“Yeah, sure I am.” He knew you were lying. “It’s just work.”

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay in case you weren’t,” he admitted.

“You know…” you trailed, pausing.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. “You didn’t have to call if you didn’t want to…”

“Ah, come on,” he said with a chuckle. “I wanted to call you, so I called. Promise.”

Anxiety began to wash over you as you bit the bullet.

“Is that everything you wanted to say?”

Why hasn’t your publicist confirmed the breakup?

Is this killing you like it’s killing me?

“Well, uh, I don’t know.”

Did you really mean what you said about never falling in love again?

Does that mean there’s a chance?

“What does that mean?” you asked. “I’m confused.”

Is this over?

Are we over?

“I think… I think that’s all I had to say.”

And there was the disappointment.

“Oh, okay.”

“Yeah, I hope you have a good night.”

“Yeah, you too.”

“Oh, hey, one last thing.”

You couldn’t help that ugly surge of hope. “Yeah?”

“Remember to take care of yourself. You matter more than anyone else does.”

“Oh,” you responded, deflating. “Yeah, I’ll try, Eddie. Take care.”

“Bye.”

“Bye,” you whispered before ending the call.

There’s nothing to say once the phone call ends. No one mentioned the breakup. No one mentioned how the album he called incredible was about him. About the love. The crash and burn. How your love still glowed inside you, bright enough for him to touch if he’d just stretch his fingertips a little further.

And yet, neither of you said a thing.

And neither of you admitted to what you knew was coming in his own album.

You found yourself mute as you shuffled into the back of the black SUV and got out of the city. Left your buzzing phone next to you, knowing that Eddie wouldn’t call you again. Knowing that everything must be over now.

If this was closure, it sure didn’t feel like it.

When you walked into your house, still empty and swirling with dust, you let the grating silence whisk you towards the wine cabinet. Got yourself the shiniest glass you had, poured the cheapest bottle you found. Sat on the back porch and looked out at the moon.

If things were different, Eddie would be here right now instead of a voice in a fucking phone. His voice, a tiny shard of glass that was surely going to rip you open and never mend itself again.

He’d sit next to you with his own glass. Comment on how nice it was to just drink the cheap stuff. Roll you a celebratory joint with dried rose petals, the way you liked it. Ask if it was okay if you spent the night out here, just looking up at the moon together.

It’d been a full year since you’d met. Five months since you last spoke. And now you were starting to fold, starting to maneuver yourselves into strangers. Even if that was the last thing Eddie wanted. Even if the mere thought of never talking again made nausea pool in his stomach.

Eddie desperately wished you were looking at the moon together.

And maybe you would feel different than you did tonight. Maybe you would’ve had a perfect night with all your accomplishments and the perfect man beside you to experience it all with.

But he wasn’t there.

And you felt so alone.

So fucking alone.

Tears streamed down your face, a burning in your chest growing with each What If that you conjured.

You were not better off without him.

He knew it the moment you told him goodbye on the island. He knew it the moment he returned to California, shutting himself off from the world. He knew it the second he called you and the second he heard you say goodbye one last time.

Eddie was not better off without you.

once again thanks to the lovely @strangergraphics for making beautiful dividers for me. it is an honor!

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar!Eddie x reader #rockstar!Eddie x you #modern!Eddie x you #boyfriend!Eddie x reader

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scoutsbabygirl · 8 months

Note

Hello! Can i request yandere sniper (or others if you want) trying to get the attention of someone really oblivious?

Have a nice day!

hi! wasn't sure if you meant in a literal way of gaining readers attention (like snapping his fingers to gain your attention). i interpreted this in more of an emotional way and wrote it that way. anyways, hope you enjoy this yandere content!

attention

it was dark inside his van. in the early hours of the morning it was pitch dark outside where mick sat at his wooden desk sharpening his kukri knife, only lamps lit up his camper.

micks eyes were painstakingly focused on the blade in his hands. too many times prior he had cut his fingers and palms on the sharp edge of the kukri. in a low tone, he muttered to himself about how unfair it was that he was surrounded by other men, unfair how you were surrounded by other men.

like many times before the blade slid just a few millimeters and it broke the skin on his forefinger just near the cuticle of his nail. mick cursed under his breath pondering why it seemed like everyone was trying to get "in his way" of you. mick had spent countless and restless nights in the cot of his van staring up at the ceiling or out of the skylight window.

he placed the knife down while he sucked the blood from out of his finger. it was a shallow cut, nothing he hadn't seen before. he sighed deeply, kicking out the chair from underneath him. he was itching to see you again and he was itching to take you away from the main base. after all, it was filled with all the other men he felt he had to compete with.

fuck. that pissed him off.

he needed to get you out of there and he needed to get all the deranged thoughts out of his head. despite it being the dead of night, he opened the caravan door then slamming it shut behind himself.

he was deadset on you. he huffed, making his way towards the main base. gun in his hand incase something were to go awry. the walk from his camper to the base was no less than a 10 minute walk and with his long and lanky legs that journey took even less time for him.

once he arrived to the base he walked around the perimeter towards your room. he knew your room was on the second floor facing the woods in the back. he turned the corner of the wooden badwater building, grazing his black gloves hand on the corner of the structure. he was careful enough not to step on any twigs or leaves on the new mexican desert that would've revealed that someone was outside. if anyone was up he would surely be caught and chased back into his van. his western style foots caused a small whirlwind of dirt and dust to kick up every step he took, only for it to drift back down onto the burnt orange dirt underneath him. a small rust colored pebble the size of a babies' palm laid still right besides feet, squatting down on his haunches he picked the little rock up. he stood up tall again and hurled the rock at your open window. a little light from your vintage club table lamp luminated the corner of your room, he assumed that you were up reading or drawing. even from outside, he heard the little clank of the pebble on your oak wood floor. a breeze of warm southern wind blew by and gave mick goosebumps, his eyes were glued on your window, watching your petite shadow dance on the walls of your room. your body came into view as you bent over to pick up the rock mick had just thrown into your room. he was studying you, trying to determine what exactly you were wearing, was it a nightgown? his eyes traced your chest slightly internally hoping to see even just a glance at your bare chest.

mick was save hidden within the shadows and the darkness of night. he stood still and as quiet as a mouse watching you move around, twisting your head around in an attempt to figure out where the damn rock came from. finally, you approached the open window, looking up at the top of the white window head down to the window sill outside that you and pyro had decorated with a new cacti and plants native to the area. mick saw you shrug in an assumption that you had finally figured out where the rock came from.

he wanted to yell out to you in a hush town for you to come outside and look at the stars with him. it was the perfect cloudless night for stargazing.

you tossed the pebble out the window, the both of you watching it tumble down until it hit the gravel floor and rolled over a few times before stopping some inches away from where it originally landed.

you lifted your arms up and shut the window, turning around and swiftly walking away.

"fuck. me." mick sighed in disappointment, pondering why he couldn't have just said your name, why he couldn't fucking talk to you. you were right there. right in front of him. all he had to do was

say.

your.

name.

defeated, his gaze shifted to the small light in your corner flick off. seems as if the random appearance of the rock in your room from nowhere didn't startle you as much as what mick hoped for. sighing, he turned on his heels back to the safe haven of his van, slinking back into the shadows of what he was loneliness he was too familiar with.

#tf2 #tf2 x reader #sniper x reader #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper #team fortress 2

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fmlyuura · 4 months

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bnha logistics dont make sense - students ver.

based on this post:

Not gonna lie, I spent a few hours trying to figure out Japan’s logistics in my mind. According to the BNHA wiki, only Todoroki, Bakugo and Midoriya were born in Musutafu, which is a fictional prefecture supposedly near Shizuoka. Besides them, only Jirou and Tokoyami live in Shizuoka. So, here is the problem: while the public transportation in Japan is good, it still is a big stretch to say that all UA students are able to commute to school-home everyday, especially when considering that the typical school day has a duration of at least 8.am till 4pm (which is the average school day without counting clubs, which aren’t so common at UA. However, if we take in consideration that the students are seen going home as the sun sets in the first season, just after the first combat lesson from All Might- early spring, going by the Japanese school calendar-, it's solid evidence that school days can go until roughly 6pm.).

Some of the first year students, like Shouji, live in Fukuoka, in the Kyushu region. The train(the public transportation train, not to be mistaken for the bullet train, which is too expensive to be taken on a regular basis) takes at least 5 hours to go from one city to the other. Kamakiri from 1-B is even worse, as he lives in Nagasaki. Just the trip from Nagasaki to Shizuoka takes approximately 7 hours by public transport and 5 by bullet train.

Uraraka, the only student who gets explicitly confirmed to be living in an apartment without her parents, was born in the Mie prefecture. A quick google search confirms that a train ticket (the fastest method between car, bus and train) takes a bit more than 2 hours on the trip (quick fun fact:a Shinkansen pass with the duration of 7 days costs 50k yen, which roughly translates to 336 dollars!)

Here the bullshit gets worse: Iida, Hagakure, Sero, and Ojiro from 1-A, Shoda, Bondo and Kaibara from 1-B are all said to be born in Tokyo prefecture, and not a single one of them is mentioned to be living without their parents or in apartments closer to UA. Iida also implies that he still lives with his parents(before the dorms, of course). The trip from Tokyo to Shizuoka is said to take around 2 hours and approximately 20 minutes, so, unless every single one of them wakes up at least 5:40 am (not even counting the time it takes to eat breakfast, wear the uniform, exit the house and walk to the station), they won’t be able to make to UA at 8:00 am.

Not to mention, of course, that Iida canonically is a big nerd who always gets to school early, so-

Assuming the heroics classes are consistent and the students leave school around 6pm, and estimating a rough timing of 10 minutes to go to the train station, and another 10-minute walk to their homes:

6.pm + 10-minute walk + 2:20 of train ride + 10-minute walk = 8:40pm

(note: Musutafu is speculated to be in the eastern region of Shizuoka, having direct connection to the sea. It means it shares borders with Kanagawa, and potentially has a direct connection with Yamanashi. Tokyo is directly north of Kanagawa, so in theory, is one of the closest prefectures geographically. It can’t be actually confirmed due to Musutafu being a pure fictional location. The rest of the students, except for the ones that live in Aichi(Yanagi, Yaoyorozu and Asui) and Nagano, which also share a direct border with Shizuoka,)

In conclusion: unless at least 80% of the first years already live in Shizuoka (or Musutafu, actually), they would have less than 10 hours to sleep, study, train, interact with family and friends and take care of their basic necessities.

BNHA doesn’t make sense. Honestly, what the fuck.

#rant #bnha #class 1a #class1b #boku no hero academia #u.a. high school

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00towns · 8 months

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one night in a strange city

Among the most frivolous things I carried by hand to Tokyo is a University of Virginia mug, my NCT lightstick, and a huge bag of saltwater taffy, black licorice flavor removed. Among the things that get left behind that I regret the quickest are my photocard binder, my Doc Martens, and my polka-dot neoprene lunch bag. I’m not embarrassed to admit that I miss the photocard binder the most. I have so many things I want to put in it. I like that Japan has a lot of papers. There’s a sticky-note culture in offices; a note left on someone’s desk is probably more effective than an email. I keep the tiny slip of paper I get in every gacha, the sticker that the gas company man leaves with the emergency number on it, the dual-language name tag that is supposed to help us if we get lost in the train station. I tuck them into the back pocket of my bullet journal to keep them from crumpling. Without my storage binders and tins, there’s nowhere good to put them. A pile of paper memories accumulates on the low table in my apartment, and blow away every time I turn on the fan.

During class change at the senior high school I teach at, there are two identifying noises. The first is the familiar bell, ringing both at 10:49 and 10:50, the minute in between the briefest, slightest, shiniest thing. The second is the sound of dozens of chairs scraping cruelly across worn floors who wear decades of scrapes and scratches. The sound echoes across the building, including through the floor into the teacher’s room that my desk is located in, and is bizarrely the most nostalgic part of my day. They creak rhythmically over my head, and I feel like I’m missing out on something. The sound in the classroom itself, I will later learn, is deafening. In my first class after my self introduction, all the students stand up to formally say goodbye to me, but they’re not used to doing it in English, so my coworker has to prompt me. I have to say something that they can repeat after me, but really, I’m less concerned about what I will say than trying to figure out what I want to hear back.

It’s odd to be working in a high school as a recent graduate, despite the miles and miles of cultural difference between my high school experience and the experience of my students. They can tell I’m young, although I try my best not to disclose my actual age. Some things are familiar: the rush to buy snacks during break that I’ve seen in anime, the hardworking nature of Japanese employees I’ve heard about from my parent’s most irritating friends, the mountains and mountains of stacked papers they talk about in earthquake preparedness videos. Even more are universal; I watch my students fight demons to stay awake in last period, forget their gym shoes and have to do PE in socks, and excuse myself from my desk to get a cold drink when I feel my own eyes getting heavy in dragging hours of deskwarming.

There are differences, too, almost embarrassingly obvious to admit. How culturally-sensitive educator’s professional development always harps on about how Japanese kids clean the classroom every single day so there’s no need for janitors, and isn’t that amazing, their culture is just so dedicated and hardworking, but my school is surprisingly still pretty dirty. I was invited to take a nap during my lunch break if I needed one and spent the rest of the day anxious if I had looked especially haggard or sleepy. I’m embarrassed to admit that yesterday I was walking home from my local grocery store lugging a few kilos of rice uphill and caught myself dreaming that I had a car.

A coworker whose name I have failed to ask leaves a tiny mountain of individually wrapped senbei and other snacks I have yet to be able to identify or read the labels for on my desk. I have to be helped through the smallest interactions. My coworker, who I like very much, has to walk with me as I get my blood drawn and my waist measured at the school’s health checkup, takes me through the excruciating process of setting up my phone and wifi, helps me make a bank account. It’s like being a hamfisted toddler, biologically designed to only grab and hold on, wondering when I will develop the physiological ability to give and let go. I take, and take, and take.

There are always a few different inside jokes happening at once. I Google the names of different American household cleaners, followed by ‘japanese’; ‘barkeepers friend japanese’, ‘goo gone japanese’ ‘. Nothing ever turns up outside of blog posts written by white guys married to Japanese women trying to be the next big gaijin humor blog and end up just being racist. I think about writing about my time here. I think about writing about Japan. I think about writing that I’ve read about Japan. I want to stop writing about Japan. There are more than a thousand JETs across the country doing exactly what I am right now. I’m not like them, for sure, but I’m not sure I can tell you why.

The students think I’m cool because I’m an American, heads taller than most and dressed miles outside of their tight dress code. I smile, and try to talk enthusiastically about a city that I’ve never called home. I keep jokingly calling things that I have yet to get used to about Japanese culture that I have my ‘one, terrible, American idiosyncrasy’, but it’s not really one, it’s probably five, and they are starting to grate on my heart instead of my nerves in a way that I think is homesickness but I haven’t called by that name in seven other international moves, so why would I start now? My body feels like it’s all awkward angles, misshapen joints, shapes that make a soft crunching sound when pressured. Maybe the last thing I feel is cool. A teacher at the school I visit twice a week cracks a joke about how none of my students can tell that I’m not Japanese by looking at me, but he can’t tell if that would make them more or less willing to try to talk to me. I laugh, genuinely, because I can’t tell either. I’m trying my best.

The familiar has a way of making itself clear. I have one beer too many at an izakaya with a friend and fall asleep on the couch on a Tuesday without packing lunch for the next day. I’m slightly terrified I might be much less worldly than I’d like to think I am. It’s only ever one night in a strange city.

Eldar Kedem -- Walking Around

Turtle Island -- Psychic Basement

No Party for Cao Dong -- Bed

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harmonizewithechoes · 3 years

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I just need to ramble and feel better doing that in the tags so....

#there’s this tiktok trend going around where you stitch the original and talk about something your mom said to you that’s never left you #and I don’t make videos and anyway even if I did she follows me on there so I wouldn’t do this one #but mine is ‘who are you trying to impress?’#there’s no specific context because she said it multiple times #every time I spent more than 10 minutes trying to figure out what to wear #or when I asked to use my birthday money to get some makeup to try #she would ask ‘who are you trying to impress?’#and it would make me feel so stupid #and I still hear those words in my head any time I attempt to put any real effort into my appearance #any time I try to practice makeup I hear those words and end up wiping it off because I suddenly feel like a clown #any time I go to try something on in a dressing room #or when I put on a dress #or do anything other than wear a T-shirt and jeans and a sweatshirt #I cover myself up because then I don’t feel ridiculous for ‘trying to impress’ anyone #because I’m really not very pretty in the first place and makeup and clothes don’t help #no one would be impressed anyway so it’s stupid to try #having those words in my head have taken a huge toll on my self confidence over the years and I genuinely don’t know how to change that #oh and there’s another thing that comes to mind every time I see one of those videos #it’s not a specific phrase but when I was little I used to journal a lot #and my mom on a few occasions told me that she read what was in there and made fun of me for what i wrote #I was only like 6 or 7 so it wasn’t anything super important #but I can’t journal anymore because I get really embarrassed by what I write #I love owning journals and I have several pretty ones that I can’t bring myself to write in #because if someone were to read it I’d feel really stupid #I love my mom and we have a great relationship now #but things she said will stick with me forever #just.... be careful what you say to kids

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xoxo-teddybear · 3 years

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Hickeys and Revenge - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: angst, crack, swearing, fluff

Summary: Bakugou learned his lesson from his cheating prank but you weren’t satisfied quite yet. The man really almost broke you so to get back at him, you decided to pull this little masterpiece.

A/N: H/T means Hair Type!!! This is also related to this fic which you should read in order to understand the beginning of this story.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Mina. Get your ass over here, I need you to suck on my titts.”

—

You couldn’t hold your laughter as you demanded your best friend to come and give you hickeys over the phone.

Not too long ago, your lovely boyfriend, Bakugou Katsuki, decided to pull a little prank on you. It wasn’t uncommon. You were the type of couple to enjoy a laugh every now and then but there was only one rule. No cheating pranks, no breaking up pranks. That was all. However, after being on a losing streak, your boyfriend decided to pull a little prank that very much broke the rules. In the end, he was also hurt but at least you knew he wouldn’t be pulling anything stupid like that again.

After that, you both went back to normal. You guys were once again happy, loving, cuddly, all the good stuff. But something in the back of your mind knew you weren’t quite satisfied with Katsuki’s punishment. You decided you had to feed the flames just a bit more to have your revenge. This ended up with you pulling a little hickey prank.

Now you were a prank master! You were skilled, smart, creative, and maniacal. Things had to be just right when it came down to it. That is why instead of using makeup like anyone else would, you’re looking for real, authentic hickeys. Since you obviously can’t have your boyfriend be the one to give you these hickeys, it would have to be your bestie, Ashido Mina.

—

“What?!” Mina laughed on the other side of the phone.

“It’s for a prank! Remember Katsuki’s cheating prank?” You said with excitement.

“Yeah. The one where he failed miserably and you ended up breaking up with him until you figured out it was a prank and you guys got back together after 3 days.” She explained.

“Gee, thanks for the play by play of me almost walking out of my very happy relationship.” You sarcastically replied. “Anyway, as revenge, I’m gonna do a little hickey prank!”

“Revenge? Girl, were you not satisfied with him being devastated over your almost breakup?” She asked.

“It’s not enough!” You replied.

“Not enough? Honey, he locked himself in the house for days. Eijirou had to force him to bathe and eat. What do you mean not enough?” She explained.

“Awwww, my poor baby. Look, I know he went through shit but he caused it! I didn’t get any revenge. I’m feening for it.” You explained.

“Alright, alright,” Mina giggled. “I’ll be over in 10..you fucking sadist.”

“Thank you!”

—

Time had passed and you were expecting the arrival of your best friend any minute now. You figured it’d be fine for her to be over for a bit because Katsuki was out on his final patrol for the week. After that, you’d have him all to yourself since he’d be home for the rest of the day.

Finally, after waiting and waiting, a knock was heard from the front door. You ran to the wooden structure and opened it to be blessed with the pink sight.

“Hickey time!” Mina said in a sing-song voice. You both laughed as she came in and you pulled her to the couch. “Okay, how are we doing this.”

“Uh, I don’t know- fuck this is so weird!” You joked as you both laughed again. “Okay, ummm, I think I’ll take a few on my chest and then some on my neck.”

“Okay. Should we have them like, trail up. Do you want me to go and make it look like he went from here to here?” She said and pointed from your chest to your lips, to which you nodded. “Wow bitch, you’re bold, wearing a tube top and everything!”

“I know right!” You both laughed. You layed back and pulled your tube top down to reveal your bra. Before you started, you pulled out your phone and started recording. You needed proof to show Katsuki that this was the work of your best friend and not some rando. Finally, Mina leaned down as you both released giggles and she placed her lips on your left mound. “What the fuck, this is so weird!”

You both laughed and Mina pulled her lips away as she began dying. You both turned red in the face as tears filled your eyes due to all the laughing. You both finally settled and she began sucking on your boob.

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck,” was all you could say as you laughed. “Wow, oh my gosh, your lips are sooo soft! Kiri is getting a treat!” You teased as Mina pulled off to laugh again.

She finally created the first mark and pulled off as you both took a look at her work. “Holy shit! There’s a fucking hickey!” You said like a teenage girl.

“That’s a fucking hickey, all right.” Mina said, proud of what she had done.

“What the fuck? This is really good!” You laughed. “You’re so good at this, how often do you practice? Is there a hickey on Kirishima right now?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Mina laughed. You both joked around a little more as she continued to mark you. It’s safe to say the whole procedure was quite comical.

—

“Can you like..make it darker? Like suck harder.”

*Mina sucking on your neck harder*

“Yeah, yeah. Harder. Yeah.”

—

“Ow! Did you just bite me?”

“Sorry! Instinct!”

“Ow...does it look bad?”

“It looks more believable.”

“Oh.....do it again.”

—

“This is weird...it’s like..hot when Katsuki does it though.”

“Okay, can you not talk about how you like it better when your boyfriend gives you hickeys while I’m literally swallowing your neck right now?”

—

Finally, after about 20 minutes of sucking and laughing, you were finally marked with red and purple hickeys. You looked in the mirror and were stunned with the work. You turned to face your best friend and high fived her.

Encouraging her to stay for a bit, you both spent some girl time together before she had to go due to Katsuki’s arrival approaching. After saying your farewells, you shut the door and jumped in excitement.

“Shits about to get real.”

—

You sat on the couch waiting for Katsuki’s arrival. Soon enough, the sound of his car door shutting alerted you of your boyfriend’s presence. You quickly covered your hickeys with your hair and went back in your phone to appear natural. Finally, after the sound of jingling keys, your boyfriend walked through the door with his best friend.

“Hi baby!” You said with glee as you got up and went to greet Katsuki with a kiss. He happily returned the quick peck and took note of your attire.

“The hell? Why’re you wearing this?” He asked, looking down at your tube top and spandex. You rolled your eyes knowing how he was whenever you wore clothes that exposed a little more than necessary around others.

“Because I didn’t know you were bringing Kirishima over so I stayed comfy.” You explained as Katsuki held his arms around you, grumbling about how you made a fair point.

After speaking for a little bit at the doorway, Katsuki made his way over to his best friend who had already made himself comfortable in the kitchen with a beer in his hand. The two were like brothers so it wasn’t uncommon for them to act this way in each other’s homes. While the two men were in the kitchen, you made your way up to your shared bedroom. You would rather have Katsuki see the hickeys in a private setting so that your upcoming argument wouldn’t take place in front of Kirishima.

Katsuki spent about 20 minutes down there with Kirishima before deciding to check up on you. The red head was fine with waiting in the kitchen and nodded his head at his friend when he decided to check up on you.

The blonde finally walked in through the room to see you sitting criss-crossed on the bed, looking at your phone. He shut the door as he approached you and you looked up and smiled at his arrival.

“Hi.” You said as you sat up a little straighter.

“Hey.” He said as he walked over and wrapped his arms around you before picking you up to kiss you. You both held the tiniest make out session before you settled to just holding each other, with your arms wrapped around his neck.

Katsuki joined you on the bed for a bit as you both sat together while still cuddled up. “How was your day, baby?”

“It was fine I guess. Nothing really happened. I stayed home, waiting for you dummy.” You said, trying to make Mina’s markings more noticeable. He still didn’t see them though.

“Oh yeah? Waiting for me to do what?” He smirked at you.

“Shut up, you fucking horn-dog. Waiting to spend some time with you. That’s all.” You said and Katsuki jokingly pouted.

“So you didn’t want me to come home and fuck you stupid?” He asked, pulling you into his lap.

“No. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to now.” You said in a soft voice. He chuckled softly before kissing the clean side of your neck.

“Maybe after Shitty Hair leaves,” he said before picking up his little pecks again. “I’ll do you just how I want to.”

He finally shifted over to the other side of your neck where the markings remained and he finally took notice of the work Mina had done. He paused his teasing and pulled away with a confused look in his face and furrowed his brows. He licked his thumb and reached out to wipe at the mark but silently seethed when it didn’t wipe away.

“What?” You questioned and Katsuki gently took you off his lap before standing up to pace around a bit. You walked to Katsuki in a “confused” manner before he stopped you.

“Uhhh...hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on.” He ran his hand through his hair, like he usually did in stressful situations, before looking at you.

“Uh, what- what is that? On your Uh-“ he said and tapped his neck. You went to your vanity mirror before turning to face him again. “Is that a hickey?”

‘Showtime’ you thought to yourself. “N-no. No, it’s not a hickey-“

“Then what is it?” He eagerly questioned with fear and anger laced in his voice.

“I don’t know, I was running and I fell and-“

“And what? You fell and got bruises?” He said looking at your neck and chest. He walked to you and pulled down your shirt to reveal the hickeys Mina left on your mid-chest. Katsuki shook his head and backed up, more pissed off than before. “No. No- you don’t fucking fall and get bruises on your neck and chest like that. So is it a fucking hickey?”

“No, no it’s not a hickey I swear.” You said softly, walking up to hug him but he gently stepped out of your hold. “Babe, babe-“

“Mm, no that’s definitely a fucking hickey.” He said as he chewed on his lower lip. “S’a fucking hickey.”

“No it’s not, I was using the H/T iron and I guess I burned myself-”

“Your hair is naturally H/T. Why would you need to use a H/T iron?” He said. You were stunned in silence but wanted to smile, appreciating the fact that your boyfriend knew you so well.

“Y/N are you fucking serious?!” He said, raising his voice a bit to show his anger.

“It’s not a hickey! I swear!” You said and walked to the mirror and he followed you.

“You’re fucking lying! ‘Cuz you don’t fucking get hickeys on your chest and titts randomly.” He said as you turned to walk to him, causing him to step back.

“I- I was using makeup and-“

“I swiped at it already, it’s not fucking coming off!”

“No I was like, I was fighting-“

“Fighting with what?!”

“I don’t know I just-“

“No, no! Stop! Can you stop coming towards me right now? You’re fucking lying to me and making up excuses. Those are fucking hickeys.” He said at a good distance away as tears began to fill his eyes. “Are you serious, Y/N?”

“....I’m sorry.” You quietly said. Your apology pushed his tears to flow as he dropped his head back and used his hands to wipe away his tears.

“You’re sorry? You’re not fucking sorry! You’re a fucking hoe that cheated on me while I was away. Are you fucking serious?” He said looking at you with teary eyes and a red nose. “Hurry the fuck up and just say you cheated on me!”

“No!” You whined. Katsuki laughed and rolled his neck as he wiped more tears before taking some random thing and throwing it at the wall, creating a loud sound.

“The fuck is wrong with you?! Did I do something wrong?! Tell me!” He said, shouting at you.

“No! You didn’t do anything!” You said, standing still.

“I must’ve done something! Or what? Are you just a slut that likes fucking attention? Is that why you’re okay being dressed like that around Kirishima?” He asked with an angry voice as he looked at your attire once more. He watched as you shook your head ‘no’ before his eyes dropped down to the markings on your upper body.

“Why would you do this?!” He said with a cracked voice as he openly cried now and walked to you. “I fucking love you Y/N! How could you do this to me? We’ve been together for years! I spent years of my life with you and you do this?!”

After seeing his tears and hearing his broken voice, you decided this was enough.

“Katsuki...” you softly said as you reached out for his arm. You expected the argument to go on longer but Katsuki seemed like he was heartbroken and done as he tried to walk away from your touch. “No, no Katsuki wait!”

“Get off of me.” He said trying to shake you off but you lightened your voice and coated it with giggles to assure him.

“No wait! Baby it’s a prank! It’s a prank I swear!” You said standing in front of him, pushing him deeper into the room. He turned around to avoid you but you only clung to his back. “Mina did it! Mina came and did it!”

“Baby, I swear!” You said, turning him around and keeping his front facing you

“KIRISHIMA!” He called out and soon enough, the red head came in, cautious of what was going on.

“What happened?” Kirishima softly asked in confusion. A quiet silence filled the room and all that could be heard was your boyfriend’s heavy breathing.

“I’m shaking right now.” The blonde said in your hold.

“Why?” Kirishima asked, looking to you.

“He thinks I cheated on him because I have hickeys but Mina came over earlier and did it.” You said as the red head walked into the room.

Silence filled the room once more as Kirishima inspected the scene. He looked at your hickeys, to your face, to Katsuki’s shaking body and teary eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“You don’t believe me?” You asked him.

“Not really. I want to but why would Mina come and give you hickeys on your chest and neck?” The red head said with his hands in his pockets and head tilted to the side.

“I swear she did it, I have the footage.” You said pulling out your phone.

“No- no, this is fucking dumb. I guess we’re over.” Katsuki said and began walking to the door but you quickly pulled up the video and jumped on him. He wouldn’t turn and so you put the video in front of his face as he began to watch, alongside Kirishima.

After finishing the video, Katsuki crouched down to the ground and allowed his head to drop as he gave a relieved sigh. You laughed at him and began to hug his shoulders as Kirishima laughed in the back.

“I’m sorry baby!” You said. Bakugou surprised you with tears of joy and a smile as he quickly turned to give you a hug while he stood up and assaulted your face in quick pecks.

“Alright, well how the fuck do we get rid of these Mina marks?” Katsuki asked, wiping at your neck.

“You could do it with a cold spoon.” Kirishima interjected causing you and Katsuki to settle.

“Oh..oh yeah, you would know.” You both simultaneously said and laughed at him. The red head blushed and turned to the same shade as his hair before coming up with a comeback.

“You guys are just weird!” Kirishima embarrassingly joked before walking out of the room, laughing and going back down to his beer.

Bakugou held you in his arms and swayed you as you allowed him to kiss your face. “I’m sorry~”

“Baby, that’s so messed up!” He laughed out with a sigh as he placed his head to your own. “I almost fucking left you!”

“I know, you were so mad.” You said in a sad but laughing voice as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “But that’s what you get! Now you know how I felt when you fucking pranked me last time.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I get it, this is why we don’t pull these types of pranks.” He said.

“Exactly.” You pecked his nose before continuing. “I’m sorry.” You whispered before he placed a long and hot kiss on your lips. He picked you up as you wrapped your legs around his torso while your arms tightened around his neck.

“Aww, I feel so bad!” You whimpered as you tucked your head into his neck. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. You’re my girl.” He said with his husky voice.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

You pulled your head back to peck his lips and he did the same and kissed you back. You both went in for more small pecks before you pulled away the slightest bit to make fun of him.

“You got praaaannkkkeeddd!” You said before laughing again, to which he rolled his eyes and flopped onto the bed with you in his hold.

“I’m gonna get you back.” He said with determination in his eyes.

“You’re gonna get me back?” You questioned.

“Yup.”

“No!” You giggled out.

“Mhm. I’m probably gonna cut your hair this time. Maybe throw all your makeup out the window, I don’t know.” He threatened.

“Those aren’t pranks! Those’ll actually do damage!” You said.

“Mhm!” He agreed and you both just laughed some more. You made it up to him with apology cuddles in bed for the next half hour before you both remembered you had a guest in your house. Katsuki quickly got up once he realized his friend was still in his house and went to kick the red head out.

“Why’re you making him leave?” You asked as Katsuki stood at the bedroom exit.

“Because apology cuddles aren’t enough. You’re making it up to me in another way.” He said with a wink and smirk before walking out the door. You laughed and sighed before flopping down on the bed with a blush. With his leave, you mentally began to prepare yourself for the hours of rough make-up sex that was to come.

Tag list: @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight

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achillieus · 3 years

Text

we’re fools (bucky barnes x reader)

summary: for all bucky barnes knows, he hates clichés. and this thing between you two, happens to be the biggest one.

(enemies to lovers trope or i watched the society on netflix recently and based this entirely on harry bingham and cassandra pressman)

pairing: college au!bucky x reader

warnings: alcohol, a lot of sexual references, but also a lot of fluff, bucky and reader are in love, also bucky gets cheesy and he hates it

(other parts) (masterlist)

part 3/3:

Bucky thinks he fell in love on a Tuesday.

“This year, I’m gonna ask Peggy Carter out.” It’s the first day of their third semester and Steve is putting his black baseball cap in his perfect hair, checking his reflection on his phone screen. One of the freshman girls winks at him and he shyly half smiles.

Usually, Bucky would tease him about it, but now he’s attention is wholly on something else. Someone else.

A girl at the other end of the hall, holding a paper juice box, wearing a gaudy denim dress that stops right before her knees.

He’s certain he hasn’t seen her before and judging by the adrift look on her face he deduces she’s in her first year. Is she pretty? He can’t decide. She’s definitely something. And if he stares at her a bit longer than socially acceptable, well let’s say, it’s completely unintended.

“Buck, did you hear what I said?” Steve says at one point and Bucky isn’t sure for how long he has been lost in her figure.

“Yeah sure.” The girl starts walking at their direction -it must be your lucky day, Bucky-, clutching the golden heart jewel around her neck. She’s looking at the doors, she’s looking at the big campus map they have on the wall. She’s looking everywhere but at him and it’s almost offensive considering the amount of time he spent looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” And then she’s there standing a few steps behind Steve. Almost hidden behind his colossal demeanor. “I can’t seem to find the Admission Office.”

A small nervous laugh escapes her lips and Bucky watches the little wrinkles around her eyes, the subtle blush on her cheeks. She doesn’t look pretty. No. She looks consuming.

“Admission office is on the left, doll”. He replies a little too fast. He had to beat Steve. He had to talk to her.

She smiles at him and somehow, along that smile, Bucky thinks he fell in love. With you.

(bucky barnes has been in love with you for 563 days)

“Did you just kiss me?”

His voice is barely a whisper and his vision is blurry and it’s weird because suddenly he realizes how scared he’s of you. Of the power you have on him. An alarming craving. Every addiction he can’t control combined. Bucky isn’t afraid of many things, not exactly. But he’s afraid that you’ll take his heart and break it, if you want to. And he’s more afraid that he’ll just allow you to. He wonders, for the split of a second, if you have any idea how everything changed when your lips met his. How something inside of him shifted.

“I’m sorry,” You finally answer and he needs a moment to compose himself, “I’m so sorry I just thought-”

“Shut up, I’d died if you hadn’t kissed me.”

“What?”

It’s innocent and terribly oblivious, the way you ask him that and he half smiles, almost touches your palm before his mind stops racing. Ignores the alcohol in his body. Reminds him that he’s Bucky Barnes, that he’s clever and brilliant and a little bit narcissistic and that he doesn’t do love. Not anymore. And that people adore him for that. And that he needs to uphold it. At least try to.

“I’m not repeating that soppy thing I said,” He drawls and smirks, his teeth gleaming in the fluorescent light of the hall. He has his mask back on. He’s playing his part again. And then he takes a quick step, opens his door and turns around, swift motions and hard grips and suddenly your spine hits the walls of his room. “But you can repeat that sexy thing you did with your tongue.”

Bucky isn’t stupid. He knows he’d perish and wither in a blast if you asked him to, yet he would never admit that. At least not so fast. And specially not to you. He has built his persona so carefully, wore it like an armor, it has become a second skin.

His chapped lips scratch soft against your neck, his hands play with the end of your dress and you observe the way his orbs are colored darker now. He knows what he’s doing. It’s a show he’s practiced. His touch is sharp, like a razor, cuts through your epidermis, comes close to your veins and the muscles of your heart.

And you’re ready to close your eyes, savor every minute of it, offer yourself like an altar and let him wipe the rationality out of you, but the moment his fingers find the wet silk between your legs there’s pain and your throat dries out instantly.

“Bucky, wait.”

“What’s wrong doll?”

“Can we stop?”

There’s the cruel split of a moment where the anxiety inside of you flares up dangerously and you fill like on the edge of a cliff, like falling and it’s horrible. And then you see his body relax, breathing a sigh of relief and laughing.

“Thank God you asked.”

“Barnes,” you hit him with your elbow, “You’re doing wonders for my self esteem right now!”

“You’re an idiot,” he replies with a grimace, “It’s just that I’m drunk and I prefer if I’m not drunk when we have sex. I want to remember the whole thing.”

A strange sensation tingles somewhere between your ribs and your stomach, something so pure and new, and it raises goosebumps all over you. And you smile at him.

And somehow along that smile, Bucky’s mask starts to fall.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt within your first month in college, is a year older than you, a proud boy that always asks the right questions and always gives the right answers, with charms and wits of a living god.

Bucky Barnes, you learnt the night you kissed him in the narrow aisle, may have a sharp tongue but he also has the sweetest lips, soft and liqueur like.

Bucky Barnes, you learn some days later, doesn’t want many people to know about you two, and sits three tables away during lunch.

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Your mind is racing with dozens of hurtful possibilities, some more or less, and Bucky looks at you, eyes widen and surprised.

“Why would I be embarrassed of you?”

“I don’t know,” you take the tea cup in your hands, drink and stay silent for a while, observe the way he’s fidgeting with his fingers, “Why else would you avoid me whenever there’s someone else but Sam around?”

It takes some time before he walks closer, sits next to you by his bedframe and touches your hand, your skin freezing under his.

“I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

Your heart almost stops, because Bucky is never scared, and his answer feels strangely heavy and bitter from his lips when he says, “I just don’t want anyone to ruin this.”

He doesn’t smile, doesn’t even smirk like he usually does, just stares at you with narrow eyes and a quick breath.

“Bucky, I hate it to break it to you,” you say, a glint of amusement in your voice, “But I don’t think others care that much about us.”

You cup his face in your hands, guide him backwards, his back hitting the pillow and it’s the first time he has no choice but to comply.

“And even if they do,” you breath in, wet your lips and tease the corner of his mouth with your finger, “It’s not our problem.”

Bucky grabs the back of your neck, shifts even closer to you, his heart not missing a beat. And when you kiss him, he smiles. And somehow along that smile, Bucky becomes more of himself.

It goes like this;

People read it in his eyes. How his gaze never leaves you even while you’re writing a test and he needs to concentrate, how he looks mesmerized when you braid your hair while scanning the textbook in front of you. How he could find you even in the middle of the biggest crowd.

People see it in your reactions. How your fingers always wrap around his wrist, almost instinctively, before he leaves, and you kiss him one time on the lips, and then one more on the cheek. How your voice changes as soon as he enters the room. How you’d know he’s here even without looking.

You really have to try to be oblivious to love.

(text messages between classes)

(10:26 AM) bucky: hey does taylor swift have to be playing in the background when we have sex

(10:27 AM) you: it’s not even noon bucky what the hell

(10:27 AM) bucky: i went through your spotify and APPARENTLY you have a “🍆🍆🍆” playlist

(10:27 AM) bucky: and it’s just taylor swift and hozier???

(10:27 AM) bucky: who the hell wants to have sex with a taylor swift song playing

(10:28 AM) you: I’m gonna kill you

(10:28 AM) bucky: nah <3

It’s surprisingly easy, dating Bucky Barnes, and by the end of the first month, you feel at home, at ease. He talks a lot, way more than you expected him to, he shares his favorites, the way he always underlines quotes he likes in the books he’s reading or how he never eats anything that has soy in it. He shows you everything about him, not just who he is, but who he’s ever been. And it’s beautiful.

And you observe how he breathes easier now, smiles more. He doesn’t keep his guard up, doesn’t flinch when nobody’s looking at him.

He thinks it’s weird.

He thinks it’s weird, because kissing has always been an act of foreplay to him and he never paid much attention, but now, with you, he could spend his whole life kissing you.

But when you start pulling at the buttons of his black expensive shirt, well, it’s not like he’s complaining. He presses his body against yours, his hands almost shaking, his fingers burying in your hair, slowly tugging.

“Bucky,” You breath in his neck, “I may be bad at this.”

“What?” He whispers as he leaves wet trails all the way to your chest.

“I haven’t done this before, so I may be bad at it.”

He stares right at your lips, notices your sweet cherry scent mixing with the sharp notes of his aftershave, touches the spot under your eyes and smiles.

“Guess we’ll have to do it over and over again then.” He’s half laughing, half kissing your shoulder and you can feel your cheeks flush and your entire being tighten.

And then his cold fingertips draw circles on your inner thighs and you close your eyes, and Bucky forgets how to breath.

“I probably sound like a fool but, I’m in love with you.”

You didn’t plan on saying it that early, but he’s here, warm and glistening and in your arms and you can’t go another minute without hearing the words out loud.

“And I probably sound competitive but, I’ve been in love with you since God knows when.”

(AH IT’S FINISHED BUT YAY THEY’RE IN LOVE)

tagging: @tonystankschild @osterfieldshollandgirl @roguesthetic @buckyjms @ohladymacbeth

#i had one of the worst months but hello hello i am back #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #college au #au!bucky barnes #college au!bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #hassandra #fools

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 10)

(Okay- I'm not going to lie, I took a little bit of sadistic joy at everyone's outrage and devastation over the previous chapter. But only because I know what's coming. I promise we'll have a happy ending. Anyway. Start with part 1 on tumblr or jump over to AO3 to read the whole thing, if you like.)

-----------------

Harry woke up smiling.

This was not something that had ever happened to him prior to the last week, but now the bed smelled like Draco, and the sun was slipping in through the curtains and warming his face, and Harry was free.

He'd never been this happy in his life.

Rolling over, he reached out, patting the bed and trying to find his lover's body so he could drag him over and kiss him awake.

When his searching turned up empty, Harry opened one eye to look at the empty space next to him. He frowned and cast a wandless tempus: 10:37. Harry blinked and summoned his wand and recast: 10:37.

That was strange, he never slept that late. Although, he supposed it explained why Draco was already up and out of bed, probably already out in his workshop working on whatever potion he'd been brewing the past week or so.

After a good stretch and pulling his hair up into a messy bun on top of his head, Harry made his way to the kitchen and over to the coffee pot. He frowned again when he found it empty and turned to head outside and make sure Draco was alright.

Before he'd gotten more than a few steps, his eyes caught on a piece of parchment and a familiar hawthorn wand laying on top of the island. "No," he whispered, heart freezing in his chest.

(Read more below the cut)

He picked up the letter off the island with a trembling hand and read

Dearest Harry, How can I even begin to tell you all that you mean to me? A less cowardly man than I would have found a way to say it to your face, but we both know that bravery is more your department. You've given me so much, Harry. I could never have imagined falling in love, never imagined that someone might love me in return. But that's why I had to do this, you see that don't you? Not because I don't love you but because I do. I love you with every fiber of my being, with all that I am, and you are mine, Harry. And I couldn't let you pay the price for my sins. I couldn't let you give up everything for me. Granger helped me draw up a contract with the Minister himself, you three certainly have a lot of friends in high places. In exchange for me, they're clearing you of all charges. Don't be angry with her; she just wants what is best for you, as well you must know by this point in your friendship. I know you're hurting right now, love. I know that this is breaking your big, perfect, beautiful heart; it's breaking the pathetic, shriveled excuse of a heart that I have, too. But it will pass, my darling, if you let it. So please, for me, let it go. Let me go. Be happy, be in love, live whatever life you want. Travel. Go to the States and do whatever muggle thing you wanted to do. You deserve the best life. Please know that I will spend the rest of my life grateful for you. And I will never forget the time when you were mine. You are, without exception, the best thing that has ever happened to me. Forever yours, Draco

Harry stared at the parchment in his hand, trailing trembling fingers over Draco's elegant script as his eyes blurred and his breathing came too fast. He clenched the letter to his chest, gasping against the ache of his heart expanding to accommodate the sadness and the sense of loss.

Without another thought he apparated straight into Ron and Hermione's kitchen.

"We thought you might show up at some point," Ron's voice said behind him.

Harry whipped around to see them both sitting at the table, "What the fuck did you do?" he asked, voice low and dangerous.

Hermione sighed, "What he asked us to."

"Why?" he asked before the enormity of this situation hit him all over, the realization that he'd never see Draco again stealing the air from his lungs. He bent forward, putting his hands on his knees, "I can't breathe," he managed, trying to suck breath into his lungs and failing.

Ron was at his side in an instant, easing him onto the floor as Hermione appeared in front of him, "let your head drop between your knees. Focus on a slow inhale, slow exhale," she said and Harry tried to sync up his breathing with hers until his heart stopped racing.

He leaned his head back against the wall and scrubbed his hands over his face. "He's gone," he whispered. Then he opened his eyes and looked at them, "How could you let this happen?"

Hermione looked down at her hands, "Draco reached out to me the day after the trial. He said he couldn't trap you, couldn't force you to live a life on the run again."

"And that he couldn't bear the thought of you getting caught," Ron added.

"We wouldn't have gotten caught," he said derisively.

Hermione shook her head, "Maybe not but what about every other person in your life, Harry? You would have spent the rest of your life separated from them."

"We miss you, mate," Ron added.

He shook his head and swiped angrily at the tears in his eyes, "Then we could have figured something out. It had only been a week!" he protested. "Just one week, we could have-" he broke off and covered his mouth. After a heart beat, he stood up, "I can't be here right now. I can't-" he shook his head, "I can't do this."

"Harry-" Hermione started.

"He asked me not to be mad at you," he said, "but I'm-" he broke off, his hands trembling as he tried to open the door. "I need-" he tried again before simply giving up and walking out the door. He needed Draco.

"Harry!" Ron called behind him but he just kept walking.

He'd come back. He'd forgive them. He knew he would, he just needed a little time.

-------------

However, leaving was actually a seemingly bad idea.

In the 30 minutes after he left the house, he learned that part of the "deal" that Draco had struck with Kingsley involved the Ministry being able to tell whatever lies they wanted to about Draco. Some papers claimed that it had been a love potion, some claimed it was a cursed object, some claimed he'd been imperiused.

Harry stood in front of a newsstand, seething as he read the headlines. How could they have let this happen? How could Draco have signed a contract that allowed for this?

And then he saw it: The Quibbler. Draco and Harry were on the front page, just like every other newspaper, but the article was titled, "From the Wrinkspurts: They're in Love". The world tilted, righting itself slightly as a plan started to form in the back of his mind.

He looked up at the man running the stand who'd been just staring at him, "I need one of everything," he said. "I don't have any money but I'll bring-"

"They're yours," the man interrupted, grabbing papers from all the different piles. He even tossed on one for gardening and one for cooking.

"Err," Harry, "Not those ones," he said, nudging the two irrelevant ones away. "Just the ones about me," he added, "At the risk of sounding self centered."

"Whatever you want, mate," the man said. "They're yours."

"Thanks," Harry said, grabbing the stack of them and concentrating so he could apparate through the Ministry's wards because he simply didn't give a fuck anymore.

There was a sound vaguely like glass shattering as Harry popped up in front of the secretary's desk outside of Kingsley's office. She shrieked and a coffee cup went flying, breaking when it hit the ground.

"I'm here to see Kingsley," he said simply.

A hand fluttered up to cover her heart, "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Potter, but he's in a meeting."

"Interrupt it," he said. "I guarantee what I have to say is more important."

"I can't just-"

"Look," Harry interrupted. "Just go and ask him. If he tells you to send me away, that's fine, I'll go."

She appeared to consider this for a moment, then she stood up and made her way to the door, knocking and slipping in.

A moment later she reappeared, "Would you mind waiting for just one moment?" she asked, gesturing to the chairs across from her desk. "He'll be right with you."

It was barely two minutes before three people came hurrying out of the room, avoiding Harry's gaze.

Kingsley followed, "Harry," he greeted, "Please come in."

Harry stood up and followed Kingsley in, not allowing himself to feel inferior because of the sweatpants and t-shirt he was still wearing.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"Let Draco Malfoy go," he replied.

Kingsley raised an eyebrow, "You know as well as I do that we're not going to do that. It's not possible."

"I thought you might say that," he replied as he started tossing magazines one by one onto the man's desk. "But you really ought to have told them all the same story."

"What?" the man asked with a laugh, "Why? Why should that matter?"

"Because it's going to make the Ministry look even more incompetent when I tell all of them the truth."

He shrugged, "It's of little concern, it won't matter."

"See, that's where you're wrong," Harry replied. "Because I'm not just going to tell them the truth about Draco Malfoy and his heinous treatment by Ministry officials prior to his trial. I am going to tell them everything and I'm going to watch the Ministry burn."

"Harry, be reasonable," he said. "So you tell everyone your story about finding Malfoy in the Department of Mysteries, garner a little sympathy because he was a teenager and now you're in love," he continued. "But it doesn't take much to drag his name through the mud again. To remind people that he tried to kill Dumbledore, to remind them of the cabinet that let death eaters into Hogwarts, to remind people of the lives that were lost because of him."

Harry's veins burned with rage and it was all he could do to keep himself from lashing out.

Kingsley shook his head, "Do what you must, but your story will never be enough."

He let out a humorless chuckle and leaned forward, bracing his fist on the desk, "I got into the Department of Mysteries within a matter of months. Do you really believe that the only information I got was about Draco Malfoy?"

"You'll be prosecuted, if you disclose any information you obtained illegally" he replied steadily.

"I am Harry fucking Potter," he said with a growl. "If you try to prosecute me, you will have an uprising on your hands. Especially after everything I'm going to expose. So good luck with that, I'll enjoy watching this burn even faster," he said, gesturing to the space around them.

"Harry," he said, "You must know that what you're asking of me simply isn't possible," a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.

The corner of Harry's mouth ticked up, "I'm going to win," he said. "And we both know it." He turned, leaving the magazines spread across his desk. "The only question is how much do you want to see burn before it happens." When he reached the door he called over his shoulder, "I'm holding a press conference tomorrow at six." He looked back at the other man, "You have until then to get him released."

On his way out he cast a patronus that he was sending to Azkaban with a simple message. I'm getting you out.

-----------------------

Okay, friends. There will be at least one more part of this fic (maybe two) but this is getting too long. <3

Part 9 | Part 11

#veritaserum prompt fic #part 10 #drarry #harry is so fed up with the ministry #drarry ficlet #100 drarry drabbles in 100 days #drarry fic #idiots in love #facing problems head on #love #forgiveness #almost to the end #happy ending coming

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well-its-not-human-anymore · 3 years

Note

Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him. But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt headcanons #tmnt x reader #writing blog #writing requests #askbox #ask response #tmnt leonardo #tmnt donatello #tmnt raphael #tmnt michelangelo

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writings-of-a-hufflepuff · 3 years

Text

Prompt List #10 - Plus Size/Fat character

For the sake of this prompt list Character A is always plus size/fat. I mostly made this because I think we need more plus size reader inserts and character fics. For those who want to write them but aren’t sure of ideas, don’t know where to start I figured this might be worth while.

I’d love to see more people create plus size/fat character specific prompt lists tbh.

All my Prompt Lists

Character A is grabbed/physically assaulted as a joke/way of laughing at their body. Character B is the one person who steps in.

“I’m too heavy...baby…”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

Character B digging their fingers into Character A’s hips, soft waist, stomach, sides etc. enjoying the tactile nature of their partner.

+ (You may like to add to this) Character A pulling away from Character B due to feeling self-conscious/uncomfortable with Character B touching those parts of them they’re usually admonished for.

Character A is forced into wearing something tighter than normal, maybe they haven’t had time to do their laundry and it’s the only thing they have left, or it’s a last minute formal event and the only dress they have is something they bought and never felt confident wearing. Character B is there to remind them every step of the way how lovely they are.

“Has it ever occurred to you that I find all of you attractive? That i’m not ignoring anything, not picking and choosing parts of you that I like and ignoring those that I dislike? That I like all of you?”

Character A walks past a mirror and feels unusually (or not) self-conscious, it puts a damper on their mood. Character B takes note and aims to correct this.

Victorian AU: Character A has spent their life being told they’re unmarriable, unlikely to find a spouse because of their size, that they don’t fit the mold. Character B has a few choice words for Character A’s parents and a proposal.

Victorian AU: Character B soothing the marks left on Character A’s skin from wearing an ill fitting corset in an attempt to conform to societal expectation. Lots of tender love and care.

Character A decides to wear a swimsuit to the beach/pool for the first time in years, they’re self-conscious but trying not to show it. Character B is just there hyping Character A up, showering them in love and appreciation because damn!

Character A is confident, feeling it, has worked so hard on their body confidence. Character B isn’t quite there yet with their own. Character A is here to remind Character B that they are wonderful, lovely, deserve to feel confident and good in their body.

Character B is proudly showing off their partner Character A, not afraid to show everyone how much they love them.

(You could add this) Character B is asked why they’d even be with Character A, derogatory comments are made about Character A’s size. Character B is not having it. This is their baby and they love them.

“I don’t want you to hide from me. I don’t want you to feel like you have to, ever.”

“I love you for you, for all of you. I don’t think you’d be pretty if you were smaller, I don’t think you’d look better if you lost a few pounds. You’re all I want and all I need, just as you are.”

Character B takes comfort in just cuddling with Character A. In resting their head against Character A’s soft stomach, wrapping their arms around their waist/hips.

Character A has begun distancing themselves from Character B as their insecurities take over and they worry Character B is bored of them or no longer attracted to them. Character B is determined to set the record straight

“I’m not asking you to compete with anyone, you don’t need to. You’re the best person for me, the only person for me. I think you’re the most beautiful/handsome/attractive/etc. Person i’ve ever met. I don’t want them. I don’t want anybody else.”

Soft kisses to the soft rolls of a soft stomach

Soft kisses to the soft dips and curves of hips and love handles

“I love your double chin. I love your round cheeks. I love you. I love how your cheeks dimple when you laugh.”

Kisses to stretch marks, trailing fingers over the marks in Character A’s skin.

“You’re so soft.”

Character B is kind of obsessed with Character A’s butt

Soulmate AU: It’s terrifying having a soulmate, growing up to believe that they’ll reject you, that your body will disgust them. Character A is petrified of meeting their soulmate, scared they’ll be rejected, that they won’t be attractive enough. The moment they meet Character B those fears are washed away.

“I love your stomach, have I ever told you that?”

Character A gets dressed up for the first time, Character B is a little bit starstruck

Character A takes Character B with them to go clothes shopping. Character B is having the time of their life seeing all the different outfits.

Alternatively, Character A can’t find anything that fits right/they feel good in and is getting really down. Character be is here to save the day and change their perception.

1980s/70s/60s/90s AU: Character A (fem. presenting) works in a male dominated office, she is constantly dealing with the day to day sexist comments added to that are the comments about their body/shape/size. Character B usually works out of office, but for the first time they’re in house long enough to notice. They decide to put a stop to it.

Mob/Mafia AU: Character A isn’t what people expect a mob boss's favourite gal/guy/person to be like, too sweet, too soft, too big. But that doesn’t change the fact that they’re the favourite and no one can say a bad word about them.

Character A has been in past abusive relationships where they’re shamed for what they eat. Character B is here to make sure they eat what they want and don’t feel bad about it, they refuse to let Character A fall into self-destructive patterns.

Character A is soft, sweet, runs a bakery, (massively cliché i know), character B is rough around the edges but melts around character A.

“I’m not like other girls/guys/people you’ve dated. I...look at me? I don’t look anything like them. How can you...I don’t...I don’t understand why you’d want to date me?”

“I’m not your type.” “Who says?”

Character A poses for Character B nude for a life drawing session

Character B is always drawing character A in their sketchbook when they’re not looking. Character A finds the sketches.

Character B tries to write poetry about Character A, it’s bad, but it’s also sweet.

“I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to be hidden away like some sort of dirty little secret. I can’t… I won’t.”

#plus size #plus size reader #fat reader #writing prompt #writing prompts #prompt list #prompt lists #writing prompt list #writing prompt lists

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bqstqnbruin · 3 years

Note

Can I request number 80 and 81 with Mathew Barzal?

Happy blurb weekend!

Shoutout, yet again because I am the worst, to @slapshot-to-the-heart for coming up with this idea

Tagging: @besthockeyfics @glassdanse @calgarycanuck @nhlboyshavemyhart88 @stlbluesbrat21 @dembenchboys @heybarzy @gotpucks @annedub @zigzagsandzebras @stars-canucks @beauvibaby

80. “What was your childhood like?”

81. “You looked so cute when you were little.”

Word Count: 840

___________________________

Meeting your boyfriend’s parents was terrifying. Meeting your boyfriend’s parents by flying to the other side of the continent was something that you were dreading, not knowing the area well enough to even know where you could run to in the event that they hated you.

“Ok, you need to give me the rundown. What do I need to know?” you turn to Mat while you were waiting to get off the plane. Granted, this was a conversation you could have had during the 10 hours it took you to get from New York to Vancouver, but here you were having it now instead.

“What do you want to know, I feel like you already know everything,” Mat shrugs, handing you your carry on.

“What was your childhood like? Anything.”

“Uh, close with my parents, close with my sister, pretty normal, I guess.”

You sigh, wishing Mat could give you a little more. “People with normal childhoods don’t go on to be professional hockey players, bubs.”

He didn’t hear you, both of you going out to meet his parents and sister who were apparently already at the airport waiting for you. They immediately jumped into conversation with you, you trying your best to keep up as they asked you question after question, Mat also piping in with his own answers about what he knew about you.

By the time you got back to his house, you were exhausted. Somehow, the simple act of his parents and sister playing a round of 20 questions about your life tired you out more than it should have, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep.

The next morning, you were awake before Mathew, heading down to the kitchen at the smell of pancakes and coffee being made by his mom.

“How’d you sleep last night?” she asks you, sliding a cup of coffee over to you.

“Fine. I’ve never heard Mat snore like that before,” you tell her, taking a sip of the coffee.

“You two haven’t spent a night together before?” she asks.

You were thankful her back was turned to you, the heat rushing to your cheeks and an obviously panicked expression because of what she was insinuating on your face. “Um, we have,” you sheepishly admit, “He’s just never snored like that before.”

“Oh he used to snore all the time when he slept in that bed of his. Every night when he was little we could tell if he was still awake or if he was watching some sort of hockey video based on the chainsaw he sounded like,” his mom tells you, laughing along with you.

“What was he like when he was little?” you ask, figuring she would tell you more than he would.

“A terror,” she says, point blank. “Come watch this, I have something I think you’ll like.” She leaves the kitchen for a few minutes, you left alone making the pancakes for everyone else before they wake up. “This is what Mathew was like.”

She turns off the stove, putting down a photo album in front of you. It looked like it was from before Liana was born, just Mat in the photos. There were pictures of him in skates, wearing a helmet that was too big for him and a stick that was taller than him in his hands. One picture was him sitting in a high chair, what looked to be pasta sauce all over his face with a bowl held over his hand, the other, dirty little hand reaching towards whoever had a camera. Another photo was him sitting on the ground, his face red and scrunched as he was throwing a temper tantrum, what was either a puck or a rock in his hands, but you couldn’t tell.

His mom laughed as she looked over your shoulder at that one. “He was mad we told him that he couldn’t eat it.”

“What’s going on?” Mat asks, standing in the doorway of the kitchen, clearly having just woken up by the way he was rubbing his eyes.

“Your mom was showing me some old baby pictures,” you tell him as he groans at the prospect of you seeing whatever else was in that album. “You were so cute when you were little.”

“Oh yeah?” he asks, his hands snaking their way around your waist. Mat rested his head on your shoulder, slowly rocking back and forth as he kissed your cheek. “What about now?”

“You’re pretty cute now, too,” you tell him, holding his face with one hand and giving him a kiss.

“Should I leave you two alone?” his mom asks you, interrupting the moment you probably shouldn’t have been happening with her smiling at you like that.

“No, I need to see what else is in this album,” you say.

“There’s a few of him taking a bath,” she tells you, sliding it closer to her to find the pictures.

“Ok, no. That’s enough,” Mat protests, taking you back upstairs, you and his mother laughing despite his clear annoyance.

#mat barzal #mat barzal imagines #blurb weekend 521 #new york islanders #new york islanders imagines

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kyuuppi · 3 years

Text

vegetable stew

Pairing: Kenma x Reader (f)

Contents: hurt/comfort; angst and fluff; body dysmorphia; eating disorder (negative thoughts, fat shaming, insecurity, mentions of starvation)

Word Count: 2.1k

Kenma has always been observant.

It was a large part of his success as a setter and even now his keen observational skills contribute to his career as a professional gamer. He tends to notice things others don’t and lately that means noticing how you’ve changed.

The more he thinks about it the more difficult it is to pinpoint the exact starting point of your behavior. Haven’t you always preferred baggy clothing?

He remembers the pretty blue sweater you used to treasure back in high school, wearing it every chance you got as soon as the weather report hinted at anything lower than 10°C. He loved that sweater too—not just because of the cute sweater paws it gave you or how it almost completely covered the shorts you wore beneath, offering an unobstructed view of your shapely thighs—but instead he relished in the way it seemed to make you feel. The confidence and joy in your expression was clear as day when you wore your favorite outfits and early on in your relationship he had quickly learned that somehow your happiness was synonymous to his own.

Hence Kenma’s current frustrations in seeing that spark of joy and self-confidence gradually diminishing in the past several weeks.

Although that particular sweater had long since left your wardrobe within the first few years of university, as well-loved and worn out as it was, the more recent favorites of yours have also seemed to have gone lately. It had been a while since you had worn the short yellow polka dot dress you had been so eager to show Kenma the first day you got back from the mall with your roommates. Every pair of shorts and colorful tennis skirts had also left your weekly rotation, leaving behind only dull sweatshirts with childhood cartoon characters and baggy joggers.

Objectively, Kenma hardly cared about what you wore. If fastening a potato sack around your form made you happy, Kenma wouldn’t bat an eye—the problem stemmed from the fact these clothes didn’t make you happy. Moreover, the bland clothing brought with them their own slew of behavioral changes.

You no longer wished to go out and you avoided taking pictures of yourself, your social media suffering from an obvious lack of cheeky selfies or “outfit of the day” posts as of late. However, the most concerning change of all was your refusal to eat.

Kenma had a habit of forgetting to eat himself. He rarely felt the mild twinges of hunger, his attention generally hyper-focused on something else whether it was a game, a video needing editing, or a class project he had pushed off for far too long. It was only when his own stomach growling would startle him or the hunger pains got unbearable that he would acknowledge the human requirement of sustenance (not that the instant ramen in his cabinets provided much nutrients anyhow).

You were much more in tune with your body and, unlike him, you looked forward to eating; scheduled your days around it, even.

Your mornings began with a balanced breakfast—a meal Kenma was rarely even awake in time for—followed by a generous lunch break in which you would intentionally put everything on pause. Regardless of how much work you had to do you always made time to put everything down and have a decent lunch. It was good for your soul, you would say. A time to live in the moment and relieve yourself of stress.

For dinner you often made it a point to eat with others, whether it was going to a rowdy Korean BBQ with some friends or a dinner date at home with just him, you enjoyed sharing a meal surrounded by the people you love. On top of it all, you frequently had snacks: small bags of crackers, slices of fruit, or a few cookies you made yourself.

You loved cooking almost as much as you loved eating; most of the times he invited you over you brought a large bag with you filled to the brim with ingredients he wouldn’t have a clue what to do with. You would chastise him about his awful eating habits, grimacing at the ramen and chip wrappers overflowing in the kitchen trash can before you diligently prepare a meal for you both, healthy and flavorful, full of the vegetables he hadn’t had since the last time he went home to visit his mom.

You made him look forward to meal times too, if only to see the way you light up when he compliments your cooking or the pure bliss when you take the first bite of your favorite side dish. Eating with you became one of his favorite parts of the day.

And so that last time you made him dinner—a steaming plate of curry with shrimp tempura—the normally delicious food suddenly turned sour on his tongue when he realized you had only made him dinner.

“I’m just not very hungry today,” you had assured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Foolishly, he hadn’t said anything at the time.

Maybe you had a large lunch, maybe you had a stomach ache, maybe you just didn’t want curry today—at that point in time he had no reason to think there was something seriously wrong. He had no reason to think you were starving yourself.

It wasn’t until weeks later when all the evidence stacked up, the many different signs piecing themselves together like a puzzle until it was impossible not to see the picture, even if a few were still missing.

Your baggy clothing, your refusal to eat anything, your off-handed comments about how the female characters in whatever fighting game he was playing had such nice figures—it became crystal clear what you were doing and it made him feel sick.

Kenma doesn’t generally care about others’ looks; he tends to worry more on how he is perceived than how he perceives others but he is confident that he rather likes your body as it is. He would rather die than admit how often he finds his gaze wandering when your legs are bare or how his eyes naturally trace the curve of your waist down to the width of your hips his fingers twitch to touch—he has had many thoughts about your body, none of which have ever been negative.

Even so, he doesn’t mind if you want to change yourself. He isn’t foolish enough to think he has the right to dictate how you decide to present yourself to this world, but he refuses to allow the reason for your change to be one that stems from low self-esteem or insecurity.

When you step into Kenma’s apartment, weary from a long day of classes and the extra hours spent at the gym, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by the scent of some type of stew, warm and hearty. Your stomach clenches longingly but you quickly reprimand yourself—you already reached your tiny caloric limit for the day.

You have hardly made it into the living room when Kenma comes out from the kitchen, dyed hair tied in a low bun but messy, several strands poking out and sticking across his sweaty forehead. A dark blue apron is tied around his waist and his right hand holds a ladle, the perfect image of a frazzled housewife. If you weren’t so shocked by the scene you would have laughed.

“Welcome back,” he greets softly.

“Are you...cooking something?”

Kenma looks slightly embarrassed by your incredulous tone but not offended. In all the years you have known Kenma you have never seen him in the kitchen for longer than the three minutes required to heat up a bowl of noodles. Him slaving away in front of the stove for a bowl of homemade soup is nearly unfathomable to you.

“Vegetable stew...it’s my mom’s recipe,” your boyfriend explains sheepishly.

The mental image of Kenma shyly FaceTiming his mother as she patiently walks him through chopping up carrots and mixing spices makes your lips twitch upwards and you make your way past him to curiously survey his work.

“You didn’t have to go through the effort, I could have cooked you something, y’know,” you comment as you lean over the large pot on the stove.

The contents are a rich brown color with hints of potatoes, carrots, and onions peaking out. You’re gifted another pang of hunger and you quickly step back as if it would prevent you from falling into temptation.

Kenma quietly slips into the kitchen directly behind you, his chest nearly brushing your arm as he speaks.

“It's okay, I wanted to cook for us this time.”

You freeze.

Immediately, you break into a cold sweat, the prospect of eating sending you into a state of anxiety. You can’t eat—you don’t deserve to eat. Not when your arms are so flabby, your waist so undefined, your inner thighs so close to each other—

“I appreciate it,” you start.

Your voice sounds unnaturally high even to your own ears.

“But I’m not hungry—I had a really big lunch.”

Turning, you try to offer him an apologetic smile but his face looks off. His lips are pulled into a slight frown and his eyes seem to be looking through you, as if he knows you’re lying.

“Y/n...I don’t like what you’re doing.”

You attempt to laugh but it comes out hollow.

“I’m not doing anything bad, just dieting a bit.”

“I think you’re being a little extreme.”

You huff, starting to feel defensive. You don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

“Kenma, I’m totally fine, I promise.”

“I’m worried about you,” he insists.

“I’m telling you there’s nothing to worry about, I’m being safe.”

“Skipping meals isn’t healthy.”

“Kenma, being this fat isn’t healthy!”

The words escape before you can think to stop them and you can already feel the shame pricking at your eyes as you turn away. You don’t want to see your boyfriend’s look of disgust once he realizes you’re right, once he realizes how fat and unattractive his girlfriend is. Kenma is skinny, he deserves a petite girlfriend who is just as tiny, a girl with slender legs that look cute in shorts and a stomach that lays flat regardless of the time of day. He deserves the sexy girls in his video games, in shape from years of training and perfected suited for tight leather bikini tops.

You don’t realize you’re shaking until Kenma wraps his arms around your shoulders, burying his face into the side of your neck. He lets out a shuttered sigh and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s crying as well.

“I love you,” he murmurs against your skin, “and I don’t like seeing you hurting yourself. If you want to lose weight, I’ll help you. We can make healthy foods together and eat them together and exercise together—just please stop skipping meals.”

Your throat feels like it's stuffed with cotton so you can only nod in agreement, raising one hand to weakly wipe at the hot tears staining your cheeks.

The two of you stand like that, huddled in the middle of the kitchen, for several long minutes until the last of your tears have gone before Kenma gently pushes you to sit down at the coffee table. He prepares two steaming bowls full of vegetable stew for you both and you silently eat as Kenma tells you how low calorie the broth is and how many nutrients his mom said were in the vegetables he used. He tells you about a new fitness game on the Nintendo Switch that you two can play together. By the time you finish your meals, Kenma has already promised to wake up early to go jogging around the neighborhood together even though you know he absolutely hates waking up early and exercising when he doesn’t have to.

Your chest aches with how much he loves you, how far he’s willing to go just if he thinks it will help you and make you happy.

A small part of your mind begs you not to listen. It insists you’ll be fat forever if you don’t starve yourself; no pain, no gain. But the more rational part of you gazes into those soft golden eyes, filled with concern and love as he rambles on about the best sources of protein—all stuff he had learned from his professional volleyball player friend Hinata—and you know your answer.

Kenma loves you, he would do anything to see you happy and healthy and you would do anything to please him.

You love him more than you hate yourself.

#kozume kenma #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #kenma x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #kenma imagine #kenma scenario #kenma x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader

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wheresmybuckyhoes · 3 years

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Summary: You are forced to go on a mission with Bucky, someone you don’t really get along with. What happens when hydra men get their hands on you?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, blood, violence, drinking, mentions of drugging, references to rape, angst

Well this was longer than I intended. I maaaay write a smutty part 2 if enough people like this, but I hope you firstly just enjoy this little thing I thought of. Love you x

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me’ you groan as you open the suit door to reveal a beautiful room of crimson and black, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of roses wafting through the air. You narrow your eyes, taking in the black marble bathtub, the double shower heads, the ornate fireplace and finally - the source of your anger - the king sized double bed, a bed frame delicately covered in carvings of flowers, dusted in a fading gold.

‘I’m calling Tony’ you seethed, a bratty undertone to your voice as you direct it at the man stood at the doorway, noticing a subtle eye roll adorn his face. The phone rings as you pace around the room, heavy footsteps cushioned by the soft carpet beneath you. Meanwhile Bucky moved to place your bags down on the dresser beneath the window, getting one of the straps caught between the plates on his arm, cursing under his breath as he begins to aggressively pull and twist.

Unsurprisingly, the phone continues to ring until you hear a voice from the other end say ‘Tony Stark is unavailable right now, please leave a message after the bee...’, before angrily pressing the red button on your phone to hang up. ‘Fuck. I am not sharing a bed with you, Barnes. I already hate you enough, no need to make it worse’ you warn him as you toss your phone onto the bed and run your fingers through your hair, a small action which you tend to do when stressed.

‘Obviously not doll’ Bucky breathed as he finally freed the bag from between the plates of his vibranium arm, trying to play it off so you wouldn’t laugh at him. You sighed in relief, a hand on your chest as you turn to look at him.‘Oh thank the gods. I’m sure you’ll be fine on the floor so...’ you started before Bucky held up a hand to shut you up. ‘We won’t be sharing a bed because you’ he explained, poking his metal finger lightly in your chest as he smiled down on you, ‘...will be sleeping on the floor’.

Your mouth fell slightly open, not from surprise though. You knew going on this mission was going to take a lot out of you. You and Bucky were sent on this mission by Tony and Bruce to attend one of those fancy rich people auctions as a fake couple. Your task was to intercept a small branch of hydra trying to sell illegal weapons on the black market. Natasha sniffed them out weeks ago, but she had to go help mother fucking Clint with some shit. I don’t know, or care. It’s Clint. Anyway, Tony promised he would book you a room with 2 separate beds, as you had specifically requested, but looks like the literal billionaire couldn’t even sort that one out.

‘You must be joking’ you snapped back in annoyance, glaring into his crystalline blue eyes which sparkled not so innocently with mischief. ‘Do I look like it?’ he replied, a smirk playing on his annoyingly perfect lips. ‘Do you really think I’m going to sleep on the floor?’ you questioned furiously, gazing upon Bucky with hatred by now. ‘I’d rather you not sleep here at all. That way I wouldn’t even have to look at your face’ he answers carelessly, shooting you a sarcastic smile. You rolled your eyes with an exaggerated flare, glaring at him before shoving past him to grab your bag. ‘Fine. You win this time Bucky. See you at the auction at 9’ you spoke calmly, making sure to bump into him roughly as you made your way over to the door. ‘Wait y/n I didn’t mean...’ you heard his deep voice grumble as you slammed the door as hard as you could. Now, how to get a new room?

——————————(<>)———————————

Pushing the door to your new room open, you were faced with a small single bed, a cramped bathroom and an old desk. It was still quite fancy compared to the hotels you stayed in as a child, but it was nothing compared to the room Bucky had forced you out of. Not really worth flashing that worker in the lobby for, but at least you got the room for free.

It was already 7:50 in the afternoon, and you had little over an hour before you had to be there. You flicked on the lights, and unzipped your bag. You were to wear a silky black dress with a low cut V, a slit down the side to reveal one of your legs and a skirt that fell elegantly to the floor, more than long enough to cover up the knife which will be strapped to your thigh. You spent almost all your time on making your hair and makeup look perfect, giving yourself just under 10 minutes to pull on the dress and a pair of strappy black heels. You lost your shit trying to reach the zipper at the back of the dress, furiously pulling up your thigh holster and sliding in your sharpest knife. You stormed out of the room, racing up the stairs in those heels like a queen to bitch boy’s room. You pounded on it with a clenched fist.

‘Open up’ you yelled through the door. It opened up fast enough, to reveal Bucky standing there in a black suit, in the process of doing up his tie, filling it out perfectly with his bulging muscles, smelling like heaven. Not that he looked good or anything. Definitely not hot. Nope. Bucky sort of stumbled over himself as you brushed past him, gesturing for him to shut the door with your manicured hand. As he spun back around after shutting the door, you caught his eyes trailing over your figure, subtly wide in surprise. ‘Eyes up here boy, I thought you didn’t want to have to look at me’ you whistled, pointing with your fingers. ‘Zip me up. Quickly’ you demanded, turning around.

There was a short pause before you felt Bucky’s warm breath tickle the back of your neck as his cold metal fingers gently brushed against your lower back. He zipped you up carefully, taking your hair in his flesh hand and pulling it gently to the side, sending shivers up and down your spine. God his touch made your skin burn. Before he could say anything else, you reached over to grab his knife, tossing it swiftly so it missed his head by an inch, tip landing firmly in the wooden doorframe. ‘Let’s go’ you motioned with your head, leaving Bucky with his mouth open, eyes burning into your back as he watched you leave, speechless.

You arrived at the auction just in time, showing your passes to the security guards positioned either side of the grand entrance. The knife was digging into your leg, but there was nothing you could currently do about it. You and Bucky swiftly entered, observing and mapping out the area in your heads in case a quick getaway was needed. There was the main stage, with strange looking items laid out across it, including what looked like the stolen tech Nat had described to you. There was the bar, with important looking business men sat beside it ordering drinks and talking about money and sex. There were relatively few women, but those who were present were dressed to the nines. Pearls, diamonds and emeralds sparkled tauntingly from their necks and ears, with dresses that cost more than your entire wardrobe.

You pushed down the tang of jealousy you felt as you thought about how easy these people had it. They can buy anything they want, do anything they want, and be anyone they want. Pulling your thoughts back down to earth, you gently reached out a hand to Bucky’s firm shoulder, pushing slightly so he would lean down to your height. He was pretty fucking tall, after all. ‘I’ll take the bar, that prick gives me hydra vibes. You go do what your good at and be a fuckboy, and try to get something useful out of the ladies. Double tap your earpiece if you’re in danger’ you whispered into his ear, plastering on a fake ass smile to make it seem to anyone watching like you’re just sharing something wonderful with your husband. Being so close to him made you feel all warm and tingly, and it made you slightly nervous. Little did you know, as much as Bucky had an affect on you, he was affected by you just as much if not even more.

You both went in opposite directions. Rubbing your hand up the suspicious looking man’s arm, you turned on your flirty charm and began working. ‘What’s a handsome man like you doing without a girl on your arm’ you drawled, noticing the man gesture quickly with a nod of his head for the man beside him to kindly fuck off. You sat down on the barstool, moving your hand to play with your hair. Men fell for that shit every time. ‘Waiting for someone like you’ the man flirted back, leaning in slightly making you want to cringe. ‘Oh please, I bet every women in here has gone up to you already, Mr...’ you trailed off, trying the most basic trick to getting a name. ‘Please darling, call me Eric’ he replied quickly, eagerly. ‘Let me buy you a drink. A body like yours should be treated with the upmost respect’ he spoke, as more off a demand than a question. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat at the mention of your body, internally screaming at how little respect he seemed to have for women.

As the man turned to the bartender, you quickly spun your head around to try and look for Bucky. Mother fucker had 3 girls all over him. What do you care though, your not actually married and he can do whatever he wants. If the bitch boy wants to fuck them, who cares? Not you, that’s for sure. You keep telling yourself that. You shook your head, turning your attention to the man who was now holding 2 glasses of rosé. You actually really loved rosé, so at least the drink might be nice. As he tapped his glass against yours to produce a satisfying clink, you brought the thin glass to your painted lips. The rosé was delicious and you hummed contently, but there was a slightly salty taste to it. Must be an older brand. You drank and talked with the man for a few more minutes, asking him about his job and his family. You thought you were getting somewhere valuable when you suddenly felt your head start to spin. What the fuck. You knew you were a lightweight, but not like this. You felt your mouth go dry as you looked up at the man. The bitch was smiling.

‘W...what did you do to me?’ you slurred, feeling your mind cloud and your muscles weaken with every passing second. ‘It’s ok gorgeous, it will wear of when I’m done with you. Let’s take you somewhere more private, hm? the man’s voice echoed in your ear as he gripped you roughly by the waist and started moving with you by his side to the door. That’s going to bruise. You tried to move your arm to press your earpiece signalling Bucky for help, but your arm felt weird and tired, and you couldn’t bring yourself to lift it up that high. Instead, you opted for trying to reach for your knife but the man who was sat beside the other previously caught your wrist aggressively and smirked, the 2 men sharing a god awful look. It made you want to crawl inside your skin and die. It was at that moment that it dawned upon you what exactly they wanted to do with you, with your body. You had to escape, except you couldn’t. It was too late. You were outnumbered and could feel your consciousness slipping. You don’t remember much beyond that point. A gun branded with the hydra symbol. An explosion. The taste of blood in your mouth. Cold metal on your shoulder. Shouting, screaming, crying. Black.

———————————(<>)——————————

Your eyes shot open, a head splitting migraine crushing your skull. What the fuck happened, and where the fuck were you? You felt something warm behind you, holding you close and breathing slowly. It smelt heavenly. You took a moment, taking a few slow, deep breaths as you tried to calm yourself down. You pulled the blanket off of your body to reveal a human arm curled securely around your waist, your dress still hugging your body, but the knife was gone. Your mind was still foggy, and you were confused as to why a man’s arm was grasping you. Something snapped in you as some memory of what those men tried to do came back to you, and you felt tears blur your already clouded vision.

Pulling the arm off, you pushed yourself up slowly, turning to look at what was beside you. Your eyes softened when you saw who it was. Bucky was lying beside you in the bed in the original suit, still wearing his suit and loosened tie. He looked so beautiful and peaceful like this. Your look quickly turned to one of concern as you noticed his suit was covered in fresh blood, a few cuts and grazes sprinkled across his handsome face. Your gut twisted and you felt sick as you felt the pain which Bucky must have felt receiving those. Fucking empathy. You reached out mindlessly to run your finger over one of the deeper cuts, but a metal arm flew to catch your wrist in an instant, his eyes shooting open.

‘Oh my god you’re up, you scared me y/n’ he said as his face instantly relaxed and he moved his arm from your wrist to your cheek, brushing away a tear you hadn’t noticed had fallen. ‘What the fuck happened Bucky?’ you asked, hand moving to your head in pain. ‘Shit does it hurt? Are you ok? How do you feel?’ he tried to ask but you wanted answers. Why was he being so nice? You softly batted away his arm and turned to face him in the bed. He sat up. ‘What happened, Bucky’ you asked, sternly this time.

‘Those hydra fuckers must have drugged you or something. I saw them trying to touch you, carrying you out of the room, you looked like you were dead, y/n. I set of a small explosion, nothing dangerous, just enough to get all the civilians shitting their pants and running out, but the building started to collapse. When I got to you they tried to shoot me, the gunshots went of right by your ear. Might explain the headache. I got you out though, thank the gods’ he explained, genuine concern in his eyes.

‘Where are they now?’ you asked trying to get out of bed but feeling another wave of dizziness hit you like a truck. You sat down. Bucky looked down and twiddled your knife between his fingers. ‘Dead’ he replied softly. ‘I killed most of them. I couldn’t get the one who spiked your drink. The blood isn’t mine’. Your hand flew to your mouth automatically. Obviously you had killed before, it wasn’t the death that shocked you. It was the fact he had risked his life like that just to save someone he claimed to hate so much.

‘Why?’ you blurted out, reaching out a hand to tilt his head up gently to look at you. Your heart was skipping every other beat. ‘I don’t know what I would have done if something would have happened to you, y/n’ he replied simply, eyes lingering on your lips as yours lingered on his. ‘They were going to...’ you whispered, before Bucky reached a flesh hand out to cup the side of your face, quickly whispering back ‘I know doll, I know. I was never going to let them do that to you’. ‘But I thought you hated me?’ you sighed, watching conflicting emotions dance in his eyes. You didn’t notice how you held your breath, or how dry your throat was, or how your headache seemingly disappears as your lips finally brushed against the winter soldier’s when he pulled you in, answering your question.

It was so gently, his metal hand sliding down to your waist and pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your hands around his neck as you moved to straddle his lap, feeling his tongue swipe your bottom lip. You opened your mouth to let him in, moaning gently at the feeling of your tongue brushing against his. You kissed him with passion, and he kissed you with longing, both emotions mixing together and causing a comforting warmth to spread all over your body. He pulled away. You frowned. ‘Why’d you stop?’ Bucky laughed lightly and you felt the vibrations from his voice travel through you pleasantly. ‘We still have work to do’ he replied simply, pulling that dazzling smile of his you so rarely saw. ‘I still hate you Bucky’ you mumbled in annoyance.

He lifted you of him with ease, holding you up kindly and making sure you could stand on your own. You wobbled a bit on those 4 inch fucking heels he hadn’t bothered to remove from your feet, but gained your balance and reached for your knife that lay dangerously on the bed. Bucky began to walk to the door. ‘Wait...we aren’t gonna talk about...’ you didn’t finish your sentence, as Bucky had turned around and interrupted smugly ‘about you wanting to fuck me? Later doll, we have shit to do now’. It was his turn to leave, and your turn to watch him walk out. ‘Fucking wanker’ you muttered under your breath as you followed. ‘I heard that’ he shouted from outside the room. It was time to kill the fucker who dared to drug you.

#bucky barnes #fanfic #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #smut #bucky x reader #avengers fanfiction #hydra #captain america #the winter soldier #marvel angst #black widow #tony stark

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