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targaryenrealnessdarling · 4 months

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Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader

Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!

Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici

warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting

If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.

She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.

Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.

Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.

“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”

“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.

“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”

She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”

“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”

“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”

“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”

She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.

Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.

The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.

Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.

As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.

And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.

All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.

In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.

The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.

It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.

What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.

Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.

Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.

So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.

She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.

She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.

It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.

The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.

The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.

Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.

She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.

“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.

She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.

“Not particularly, no.”

His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.

“Why's that?”

This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.

“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”

Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.

“So you're lurking about in here instead.”

He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.

He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.

“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.

She smiles lazily and shrugs.

“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”

He seems to consider her statement for a moment.

“Why come then?”

She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”

“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”

She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.

There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.

“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.

“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.

She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”

There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.

“Modern Languages.”

“Fucking hell,” he groans.

She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.

“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”

She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”

He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”

For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.

He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”

She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”

She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.

“Okay, okay, Michael.”

She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”

It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.

“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”

The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.

“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”

He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.

“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”

She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.

It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.

“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.

They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.

“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.

“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”

She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.

Was he checking me out?

As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.

“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”

He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.

“Can’t say there is.”

She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.

“And why not?”

He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”

“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”

He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.

“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”

The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.

Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.

“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”

He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”

She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.

A warmth swirls in her gut at that.

She circles the table, “what about in the past?”

He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.

“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”

The way he says it.

She wouldn't be surprised if he was…

Oh.

“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”

She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.

He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”

She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.

“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”

He seems to miss what she's trying to say.

“Have you been with a girl?”

At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.

She knows she has her answer.

“Well…I…no, I haven't…”

At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.

“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”

His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”

It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.

“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.

This isn't normal in his world.

Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”

She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”

For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.

She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.

“What if what I want is…you?”

The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.

So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.

The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.

The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.

For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.

The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.

One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.

He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.

Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.

“Shit - sorry-”

“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”

The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.

Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.

“If you don't want to-”

“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.

She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”

He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.

“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”

He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”

She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.

It's always the skinny white guys.

“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.

She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.

Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.

She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.

She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.

And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.

Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.

He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.

When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.

The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.

It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.

“Fuck-”

It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.

His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.

“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.

If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.

Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.

His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.

When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.

“Fucking hell…”

She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.

And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.

“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.

“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.

“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”

His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.

She bites back a grin.

“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”

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scoonsalicious · 16 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 19, Unfriended - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of sex, confrontation, uncovering of lies.

Word Count: 1.3k

Previously On...: Tony has a new mission for you, and everyone finds out you used to be a stripper.

A/N: CONFRONTATION TIME, BITCHES!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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You left the conference room with a better idea of what Tony was hoping you’d be able to accomplish, and you were feeling slightly optimistic for the first time all day: You actually had a chance to help women escape the hell you’d lived in for seven years, and you were going to do your damnedest to do right by them.

You hadn't gotten very far down the hallway toward the elevator when you felt the cold, vice-like grip of a vibranium hand take hold of your wrist and pull you into a storage closet.

"Jesus Christ, Barnes," you yelled, wrenching your arm out of his grasp and rubbing the skin where he'd grabbed you. "What the hell?"

"Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing." His eyes were dark. He was angry at you. Of all the fucking nerve. He had the gall to be angry at you? "What the hell, Pocket? What was that back there?"

Well, you thought, I guess this is actually happening.

"Really?" you asked, your voice calmer than you could have ever imagined it being. "Can't think of a single reason I'd be upset with you?"

"What are you talking about?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused. "We were fine this morning. Fuck, we talked about getting place of our own, for Christ's sake."

"Yeah," you said, "that's not going to be happening. Ever." He had the audacity to look hurt.

"What do you mean?" He reached for you, but you pulled away from him, trying to put as much distance between you as possible in the cramped space. "Sweetheart, talk to me. Whatever's wrong, we can figure it out together."

"How was Russia, James?" you asked, ignoring the concern in his voice. "Anything... I dunno, exciting happen over there? Twice, maybe?" You watched with a sense of sick satisfaction as all the color drained from Bucky's face and a look of panic overtook him.

"I-I don't know what you mean," he stammered.

"Please," you scoffed. "If there's one thing we can both agree on, it’s that I’m not intellectually stupid. Emotionally? Obviously. But not intellectually. Don't insult my intelligence by acting like you don't know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Whatever Carthage told you," Bucky said, trying to draw close to you again, slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, "she's lying to you."

"Oh, no worries-- Jade didn't tell me anything, so no need to follow through on your threat to kill her and make sure no one ever finds her body, which, by the way, what the actual fuck?!"

"Doll, you gotta understand," he began, but you cut him off.

“No,” you said, putting a hand up to keep the distance between you. “I’m tired of being understanding when it comes to you, James.” You watched him flinch at your use of his government name. Good. “I’m tired of giving you second chances you don’t deserve. I’m tired of your fucking lies. I am so tired of you.”

You reached into your pocket and took out his phone. “Here,” you said, shoving it into his chest, “you left this when you went to your debrief.”

Bucky clutched the phone, looking between it and you. “You… you went through it?”

“Of course I fucking did!” you seethed. “Imagine my surprise when I picked it up, planning on just pocketing it to give back to you when I next saw you, only to see a notification for a new message from Jade fucking Carthage. The girl whose number I blocked from this very phone. The girl who, you swore to me, you were never going to speak to or be alone with again. Imagine how absolutely devastating that was.”

“You weren’t supposed to read those messages,” Bucky said, his voice low and full of sorrow. “I never intended for you to see them.”

“Well, no fucking shit, Barnes,” you said, throwing your hands in the air. “Kinda defeats the point of having a secret affair if the girlfriend knows about it, doesn’t it?”

“But it wasn’t like that!” Bucky exclaimed, desperate for you to believe him. “I didn’t intend for it to happen. It was an accident! I never meant--"

"Oh, an accident? My bad; I didn't realize you'd 'accidentally' tripped and got your penis stuck in her vagina. Two fucking times." You were hit with a realization. "Was this why you didn't call me when you were supposed to? Why you never returned my messages? Were you lying about your phone dying?"

"Yes, but--"

"For fucks' sake, James!" You were shouting now. "I fucking knew something was going on between you two. I fucking KNEW it, but no, you assured me it was nothing, that I was overreacting. That you loved me. I thought I was losing my fucking mind with insecurity, and meanwhile you've been fucking her behind my back and feeding me bullshit about how much you wanted to be with me."

"Baby, no!" Tears began pooling in Bucky's eyes, but they didn't sway you. "I swear, Russia was the only time anything happened. I promise you."

"See, here's the thing: your promises don't mean shit, James," you spat. "I can't believe a word that comes out of your lying mouth. I'd ask you why, but I wouldn't believe whatever bullshit you'd tell me."

"Because I thought you were with Steve," he blurted out, as if desperately grasping for any chance at making you understand. "I saw the news articles from the gala, and I was so angry! I– I wanted to make you hurt as much as I thought you hurt me…"

His words left you momentarily speechless. "You took the word of fucking trash rag as gospel, thinking I would do that to you? That STEVE would do that to you? And before even thinking about talking it over with me, you decided the smart choice was to go balls deep in the one person who I've been begging you to stay away from for months? That you swore I didn't have to worry about?" God, he seemed so pathetic to you now. “You just made the executive decision that I was a piece of shit? I’ve been to enough therapy sessions to recognize projection when I see it.”

"I'm sorry! I know I fucked up. Please, please just tell me what I have to do to make this right. What can I do to fix this? I'll do anything. You want me to never speak to Jade again? Done."

"That's just it, James," you said, the fight leaving you. "There's nothing that you can do. This is over. We're done. I refuse to do this any longer."

"Sweetheart, please," he cried, "please, you can't mean that. Don't talk like that."

"James..."

"Stop calling me 'James'!" he sobbed. "'m not 'James,' 'm your Bucky. 'm always your Bucky."

You shook your head sadly. "'My Bucky' died the second you decided to sleep with her, and there's no bringing him back. Welcome to the consequences of your actions, James. I hope you and Carthage are happy together. You fucking deserve each other." You started for the door, but Bucky grabbed your wrist before you could grasp the handle.

"Please," he moaned, "this-- this can't be it. We can't end like this. We were supposed to be forever."

You pulled your hand out of his grasp and opened the door. "You should have thought about that before you broke my heart," you whispered. “Again.”

"I don't know how to live without you," he murmured.

"Well, you better figure out how to fucking start," you said as you made your way out the door. "When I get back from this mission, I'm moving out of the Tower. Alone." The idea had just come to you at that moment, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn't stand to live under the same roof as Bucky any longer, let alone across the hall.

"But this is your home," he pleaded. "You don't need to leave it."

"You were my home," you told him. "I don't have one anymore." And you left him standing in the open doorway of the storage closet, alone and crying.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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zenkindoflove · 23 days

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"I want what Elain wants and she wants Azriel"

Is a claim I often see e/riels use to claim why they are "pro Elain" and implying that if you ship Elain with her mate because "she clearly doesn't want him" then you are anti Elain.

So yeah this whole post is why that's bullshit.

First let's get some things straight that we all can agree are facts.

1. Elain had a crush on Azriel. It's clear by their looks and touches and her showing body language that she wanted to kiss him in the bonus chapter. It's unclear whether that crush survived post her tears over his rejection and giving the necklace back as they had no canonical interactions post solstice.

2. Elain does not want to address the bond right now and avoids Lucien. Her feelings about Lucien specifically and what she thinks about the bond are unclear.

Now that we got that out of the way, the assertion that you are the most pro Elain because you ship her with Azriel is quite a stretch. I'm sure you like Elain, as do I, but you do not hold some moral high ground because of who you ship her with.

First, let's discuss the idea that you have to support who Elain wants. People can want all kinds of people who are not right for them for a lot of reasons. It's a common experience for many to want the wrong guy. To have a crush and think they're the best and it'll all work out only to have your heart smashed by the cruel reality that they were wrong for you or didn't want you the way you did. It's also common to hate your friends' boyfriends and husbands because they're assholes despite how much they "want" them.

People's feelings change. Feelings are fickle.

In SJM's canonical world, mating bonds are not.

It makes sense that Elain, after going through her horrible rejection by the man she actually wanted and loved, Graysen, would not be ready to face what having a mate means. I'm sure it felt like infidelity to her, especially if she does desire and feel a pull towards Lucien like every other female with a mating bond has in this series. Her avoidance of Lucien can mean a lot of things, including that she wants him even if she mentally isn't ready or feels she shouldn't.

It also makes sense that she would seek out and find herself in a rebound crush with someone who is in her proximity and is low risk. Azriel doesn't come with the pressure of being her fated soulmate. He's just a dude. A dude who is pretty and paid some attention to her.

So yeah, I get why she wants him. Doesn't mean I think he is right for her.

Why isn't he right for her? To make a long post short, Azriel often undermines Elain. He diminishes her need for help when she's clearly depressed (ACOWAR), and he speaks for her and directly contradicts her wants (ACOSF, scrying). He is entitled to her without merit (the third sister line, bonus). He ignores her wishes to avoid violence and wants to kill people who are important to her (wanting Graysen killed, saying he'd kill Lucien in a blood duel - we know canonically if a mate dies it is like losing half of your soul). He thinks very little of her past his lustful fantasies (bonus chapter) and even to the point of projecting his own self-hatred when he looks at her skin (bonus chapter). Elain is symbolic for him of the thing he covets most (a mate), and his crush on her is a manifestation of his psychological need to pursue unavailable females because of his self worth (friends who will never romantically love him or a female with a mating bond). Basically they are a recipe for a toxic relationship full of avoiding real personal healing.

So yeah sorry, even if Elain wants to kiss him I'm not shipping her with someone like that just because she "wants" it. I would rather see her have a story where she discovers who she is and what being Fae means to her, which means directly addressing not only her powers (hello let her scry) but also addressing her mating bond head on by getting to know the male that she will always have a pull to, no matter if she rejects the bond or not. Elain is a fictional character with a narrative arc. Her wants now will not always stay static.

For me, as someone pro Elain, I want her to give herself a chance at a forever kind of love, one with a soul to soul connection and an eternal devotion. I want her to experience that unconditional love she so desperately craves. I don't want to read her choosing just some regular dude who will probably drop her the second his mating bond snaps anyways. She deserves a mate. Even if she doesn't know or understand that yet.

And quite frankly, I think once Elain does learn not only who Lucien is but the way he thinks about her and how devoted he is to her and only her, she will want him soon enough. I don't ship for characters' frivolous crushes in the now. I ship for their potential with the right person. The person who will see them starving and depressed and worry about their well being rather than what their powers can provide them. Who will hear their vision and cross an ocean because they believe in it. Who will fight across a battlefield just to make sure they're okay. Who will even push down their own needs and wants to give them space because that's what they want right now.

You know what that means though. If you're pro-Elain for wanting what Elain wants, then Lucien is the most pro-Elain person there is. And why wouldn't he be? He is her mate after all, and he will do anything for her.

So yeah, that's who I want for Elain, and I think that makes me pretty pro-Elain too.

#elucien #lucien vanserra #elain archeron #pro elain #pro elain archeron #anti e/riel #anti azriel #pro elucien #elain x lucien

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kairiscorner · 9 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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heartsfromia · 2 years

Text

string you along — j. wonwoo

pairing: non-idol! wonwoo x f!reader

word count: 4,193

genre: fluff, high school romance

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, jeonghan is a menace here lol

author's notes: the setting is that both reader and wonwoo are in high school ^__^ for context: their school is holding a "fashion show" type event at the end of the week (this is common where im from, just go with the flow)

You were in a fickle.

Your thumb pressed against your lip, your teeth peeking out as it chews nervously on your nail, you were worried. You didn't think it would be that bad, your plan that is, but after you snuck a glance towards your classmate (read: crush), Wonwoo, who was sitting in the back corner of the class, a book opened on his desk as he read amidst the chaos of the class.

What was your plan? Well, it wasn't necessarily a plan you expected to make today, Gaeul had suddenly approached you in the morning as you were walking towards class.

"Did you hear about the fashion show the student council is arranging for this week?" You heard about it; it's an annual event, after a week of sports competitions, and during this time, besides the fashion show, food vendors would open around the school premises, and prizes will be distributed. This was the one week where it was expected to not do any studying—students weren't expected to bring books or stationary, and teachers were only expected to supervise the event as it goes on.

You nodded, uttering, "Yeah, I heard about it, what's up?"

Gaeul sends you a small smile, sucking in a sharp breath, "Well, you see, I'm one of the Liaison Officers for the fashion show, and I'm supposed to gather participants from each class." You knew where this was going, so you nodded, allowing her to continue explaining. "You're the only one I know from your class, so will you do it, Y/N? Join the fashion show as your class' representative?"

"Sure." Your quick response took her aback, but when she realized you agreed, she grinned, jumping in her spot as she reaches to hug you.

"Oh my gosh, thank you so much, Y/N," she thanks gleefully, pulling away, "I was so nervous you'd decline because honestly, as seniors, we're too old for this."

You chuckled, nodding in agreement, "We are, that's why I agreed because I knew no one in my class would want to join."

Gaeul nodded in understanding, before asking the question that led to your nervous breakdown. "So, who will be your partner?"

You had asked her if you could ask your classmates first, before giving her a name, but she insisted that she'll approach them and try to convince them in joining, because in her words—

"I'm very convincing," she stated, smiling as she poked at the dimple in her cheek.

"Are you sure?" You asked once again, and she nodded. You thought of the guys in your class. You knew the representatives for each class had to be a girl and boy, and there weren't too many guys in your class. There were three guys that popped into your head, those who you thought might fit as your partner for the fashion show.

There was Jeonghan; the class clown, but you knew the two of you wouldn't be able to walk down the runway without him extending his leg to trip you.

Then, there was Jihoon; quiet and reserved, but you knew he was in the school band, and he won't have time to accompany you as he practice after school every day leading up until the event.

Last, but not least, was Wonwoo; quiet and reserved, much like Jihoon, but he wasn't in the school band, instead, he was the captain of the photography club, and you were sure he wasn't going to be in charge on the event as he has juniors to do so for him.

He was a top candidate because he might not be as busy as others, and you were sure he wouldn't purposefully trip you.

Also, because this might be your only chance that you can spend an extensive amount of time with him.

So, you gave Gaeul his name, and she told you she'll approach later at lunch time. You nodded, thanking her for wanting to do that, before walking towards your friend, Mingyu's class as you still had time until the first subject starts.

"You better bring me flowers after I walk the runway this Friday," you told Mingyu as you slid into the chair beside him.

He looked at you, his brows furrowed in confusion. "You're your class' representative?"

You nodded, a satisfied smile on your face as you added, "With Wonwoo."

Mingyu's eyes immediately bulged out of his head when you stated your partner's name. "W-Wonwoo? Jeon Wonwoo?"

You furrowed, confused with his reaction. "Yeah… why?"

"You know he doesn't like those things, right?" You did, you won't lie that you almost considered his reluctance in joining those types of events because he wasn't one to be the center of attention—unlike you, you didn't mind the attention.

However, your feelings towards him outweighed that thought.

"I-I mean, yeah, but it's his senior year, he can't just, you know, not do these things before graduating," you tried to convince him. It was partially true, of course, you didn't want to admit to Mingyu that you were doing this to spend more time with your classmate, you wouldn't hear the end of it.

"It's not me you should be convincing, Y/N."

Thus, there you sat in your chair in class, frequently glancing towards Wonwoo who was now leaning against the wall behind him as he plays a video game on his phone. It was thirty minutes until lunch time, until when Gaeul comes to convince Wonwoo.

Even though you wanted to believe Gaeul could convince Wonwoo to join, you knew her efforts would be in vain. He wouldn't care enough to consider the choice. He knew it would be a waste of time, and low-key embarrassing, and thus, your second option would be someone else.

At that thought, your eyes immediately darted towards Jeonghan who was playing thumb wars with Minhyun, and you winced when Jeonghan presses at his opponents thumb, causing his friend to whimper in pain as Jeonghan maniacally laughs at his suffering (dramaticized).

If you had Jeonghan as your partner, the one person that still holds a grudge against you for eating his slice of cake during last year's class party, then you'd be on the receiving of his pranks. You couldn't handle that, you could barely handle finishing your senior year in the class with him, you can't risk it.

With a heavy sigh, and a determined look, you pushed yourself up from your chair and walked towards Wonwoo, sliding into the seat beside him. You almost reached forward to tap his arm, but stopped mid-air as you saw the focused look on his face—brows furrowed, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he furiously tapped on the screen.

He looks cute, you thought fondly, deciding to not disturb his concentration and wait for him to complete the game before you can talk to him.

Luckily for you, he was on the last round and with a smile of relief, he finally glances up, and freezes for a moment upon seeing you. He glanced towards the front of the class, in fear there was a teacher and he was too engrossed in his game to notice, but sighed in relief when he saw only the random doodles on the white board.

Looking back at you, he asked finally, "Can I help you?"

"Yes," you nodded, your lips in a smile, "be my partner for the fashion show?"

Straight to the point, Wonwoo thought, slightly amused.

"The fashion show this Friday?" He asked to make sure, and you nodded, feeling optimistic of his curiosity that it means he would agree. "And what will we be doing?"

"From backstage, walk down the runway and then back to backstage," you explained concisely, "we'll probably have a technical meeting to discuss the dress code per class, before deciding our outfit, and then there will be a rehearsal before Friday, and yeah…"

You watched as he nodded, pursing his lips in thought. What felt like hours had passed, you were on the edge of your seat waiting for his answer, only for the blood to drain to your feet as you sunk in your seat in disappointment at the utter of one word.

"Nope."

It felt like all that you worried about it was coming true, and you weren't sure what was the worst thing to face—not having Wonwoo as your partner, or having Jeonghan as your partner.

"Why not?" You asked, hoping you had masked the disappointment in your tone. You didn't, Wonwoo could hear it but didn't point it out.

"Not interested." You slumped at his short response, an exasperated sigh leaving your lips as you glance back towards your second option for a partner. This time, he was preparing his finger to flick the forehead of Chan, a loud thump echoing throughout the class, causing a shiver to rise up your spine.

Quickly, you turned back to Wonwoo, leaning forward with your arms clasped together, begging. "Please, can you be my partner? There's no one else that I can be partners with, Wonwoo."

He stayed silent, staring back at you with wide, concerned eyes. So, you took this opportunity to explain, "You're perfect to be my partner, because you're tall, good-looking, and you're not Jeonghan who is still holding a grudge against me, and I don't want to fall flat on my face if I were to walk with him, please, Wonwoo, you're my only hope."

His eyes glanced at your hands that were now placed on his shoulders, your faces barely inches apart before he reaches up, removing your hands from him and pushing you back into your chair. "I'm sorry, Y/N, I'm not interested in those things."

"But- but-" you stuttered, trying to find something you could say to convince but he shook his head, uttering another apology and pushing his glasses up, his eyes focused back on his phone as a new game starts.

There was a good minute or two where you stayed seated, staring at Wonwoo, a pout evident on your lips, before sighing, admitting defeat and returning back to your seat with heavy steps.

With another heavy sigh, you hid your face in your hands, thinking of how you're supposed to stop Gaeul from approaching Wonwoo, and to approach Jeonghan instead, and how you're going to have to ask Jeonghan to sign an agreement to not trip you or cause a scene during the fashion show to prevent you from enduring shame until the end of senior year.

"Hey, Y/N." Your head sprung up at the familiar voice, finding Gaeul entering your class and waving at you before her eyes wandered throughout your class to find Wonwoo. You tried to wave her off, subtly shaking your head as you held eye contact with her, but it was to no avail as you watched in despair, as she walked towards the reserved student in the back corner.

Biting onto your fist, you watched their exchange, without knowing what words are shared between the two, and little to no body language that was telling in which direction the conversation was going. However, you knew where it was going and pressed your hands over your face, not wanting to see her walk away, slouched and disappointed like you did.

Peeking through your fingers, Gaeul stood from across Wonwoo, walking towards the exit, however, she wasn't slouched, nor did she look disappointed, instead, she was smiling, relieved as she walked towards you, signaling an 'all good' with her hand.

All good? What does she mean by all good?

"H-how did it go?" you asked, sitting straight up, glancing back at Wonwoo who was staring at his phone.

"He said he'll do it," she reassures you, and your eyes almost bulge out of their sockets. Chuckling at your surprised look, she pats your shoulder, "Told you I was convincing."

You glanced at Wonwoo once again, and this time, you locked eyes with him, his expression flat as yours brightens up, a grateful smile etched across your lips.

Alas, you found yourself seated beside Wonwoo in the student council's meeting room, listening to the project manager as they explain the premises of the fashion show, when there were will be a dry rehearsal and dress rehearsal, what time to standby on the day of, and lastly, what we will be receiving as a thank you for becoming representatives.

You leaned to your side, to whisper to Wonwoo. "Apparently the budget for this year's fashion show rose, so they're providing us with free food." Wonwoo only nodded, lips slightly pouted as he listened with his arms crossed over his chest.

Wonwoo has barely said a word to you since the day had begun, only humming, nodding, shaking his head as a response to your questions and statements. You knew what you were getting yourself into; he didn't want to join, but when Gaeul approached him yesterday, he agreed…? You were just as confused, and you wanted to ask him about it the next day when you were asked to come join the technical meeting, but because of his lack of responses, you chickened out.

He wasn't intimidating, but you felt too bad to engage in a civil conversation with him without feeling like you're forcing him to talk to you. This entire mission of you wanting to spend more time with your crush was beginning to make you regret it.

"You guys can have your lunch now, we asked the teachers to give you an extra twenty minutes," Seungcheol stated, and everyone began to leave the room.

"Do—" You turned to find Wonwoo already making his way out the door. Sucking in a deep breath, you took long strides before gently tugging at his blazer, causing him to turn to you. "Do you want to grab lunch together?"

You were hoping for a 'sure', although expecting a 'no thanks'—anything really, as long as it was in the form of words, but he only nodded once. Mixed feelings began to rise; happy because he didn't decline your offer, however, sad because he didn't say anything.

It was decided by Wonwoo that you'd both buy something from the school's café, the taller individually reaching for a bag of chips and a bottled lemon tea, and you chose a spicy chicken mayo onigiri. Upon reaching the cashier, you reached in your pocket for money before you remembered you had left your wallet in class. With a disappointed sigh, you placed the snack back at its spot and whispered to Wonwoo, "I'll be outside." With nothing to buy, you didn't think you needed to stay inside.

You were caught by surprise when Wonwoo stood in front of you, the onigiri you put back in his hand that was extended towards you. He gestured for you to take it, but you shook your head, "I forgot my money in class."

"I didn't ask for you to pay, Y/N," he finally spoke up. "You haven't eaten today, so here, take it."

You smiled at him as a thank you, taking it from him before asking, "I'll pay you back when we get to class, Wonwoo."

"No need, Y/N," he answered, turning and walked towards class. Despite your blushing cheeks, you felt guilty because he paid for you, it's not like you didn't have any money at all, you just forgot to bring it.

You took large strides to fall in step with him, and continued your pestering, "I feel bad, Wonwoo, I'll pay you back once we get to class, I'm serious."

"I won't take your money, then."

"Then I'll hide it somewhere in your bag when you're not looking," you stated with a nonchalant shrug, causing him to chuckle lightly. Hearing his deep laugh only ignited a swarm of butterflies to invade your chest, your smile growing.

"Oh yeah, by the way—" You began, turning to face him and the two of you stopped in your place. "Since we've got our dress-code, which is Charleston—"

"Great Gatsby," he adds, and you nod.

"Yeah, do you want to go to costume place together? So we can coordinate our outfits?" You offered, your fingers tapping lightly against the wrapper of the onigiri nervously. "We can just rent it since I don't think we'll be wearing them any other time."

"When?"

"After school today?"

"I have a meeting with the photography club after school," he states, and you slouch slightly, a bit disappointed. Noticing that, he then adds, "It won't be long, so if you don't mind waiting."

"I don't mind," you beamed, the two of you resuming your walk towards class.

"How do you get home?" Wonwoo asked, tearing the bag of chips open and offering you some. You happily took a chip, tossing it into your mouth.

"I'm usually picked up by my driver," you state after swallowing the chip. "How about you?"

"I drive."

"Oh, you bring a car?" He nods. "So, do you want to follow my car after school?"

His response to your question caused you to stop immediately in your steps, eyes wide and head spinning. "How about we go together with my car?"

And so, you found yourself seated beside him in his car, the two of you still dressed in your school uniform as you navigate towards the costume store in the city. Wonwoo gave you the okay to use the AUX cord, allowing for music from your playlists to play throughout the car. Sneaking quick glances at your crush, you were surprised you were able to contain yourself in his presence—something about Wonwoo, one hand on the steering wheel and the other occasionally reaching down for a chip (yes, he bought another pack), made blood rush to your head.

The same could be said about Wonwoo as well. Besides from his very small circle, he never really hung out with any of his classmates after school hours.

He sees them five days a week, why would he need to see them after school and on a weekends? Wonwoo wouldn't say he's anti-social, simply picky over who he likes hanging out with.

Safe to say, you became an exception to him.

The two were never close, simply classmates to one another. Every now and then, you would approach him regarding something about a class, or if he wanted to join a certain event. Mundane things that never played a significant role in bringing them closer to one another. However, he knew himself that they wouldn't be more than classmates—you lived in a different world to his and you both are an unlikely pair. He never thought much to the progress of your nonexistent relationship, although, unbeknownst to him, you always did.

You would try to find topics to ask him, not wanting to look suspicious or ask him rhetorical questions, that would make you look stupid in front of him, but because he is a private person, you never really know what topic would pique his interest.

Until today.

"Oh, cool PC setup." After renting your costumes, he wanted to grab something from his house before dropping you off. "What video games do you place?"

"Uh… mainly FPS games," he answered, half-expecting you to ask what those were, but your response caught him off-guard.

"Me, too," you state excitedly, "which ones? I mainly play Valorant."

"That, CS-Go, Apex," Wonwoo lists. "Who do you main in Valorant?"

"Can you guess?" You watched his expressions twist in confusion, thinking hard and to not give a stereotypical answer to you mainly play on your Valorant games.

"Is it a Duelist?"

You shook your head, "A Controller."

"Uh… Omen?"

You grinned widely, eyes bright when you heard his answer and nodded repeatedly, "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess?" He shrugs, chuckling at your surprise, the deep chuckle causing a swarm of butterflies to flutter in your chest. The next sentence caught both of you off guard, "We should play together sometime."

It took a second for you to process his invite, and with a soft smile, you nodded, uttering, "That would be awesome."

You were ecstatic to know that there was a possibility that even after this whole fashion show thing, you could still continue to interact with Wonwoo outside of school. However, you still looked to the fashion show, even more now that Wonwoo feels comfortable to hold longer conversations with you, approach if he still had some inquiries about the event.

You seem to look forward to it too much, that you had requested your classmates to do something special for the both of you as the class' representatives of the fashion show.

Your first mistake was trusting that to your classmates, knowing well enough that a vengeful Jeonghan resided in that group.

"Y/N, Wonwoo, you're up next, alright? You're the last couple," Gaeul informed, the two of you nodding in understanding, and waited for the previous couple to come out.

"Should we lock hands or—"

"Go, go," Gaeul instructed, pushing your backs and before you could finish your sentence, Wonwoo links his arms with yours, stepping out from behind the curtains. You took a brief second, glancing down at your linked arms before up at Wonwoo who was already looking at you with a gentle smile on his lips.

'Ready?' he mouths, and you nod, plastering on a genuine smile as the two of you walked down the built-in runway, spotting your classmates at the end cheering you both on. Your eyes locked with everyone, but stopped when you spotted Jeonghan, a sinister grin on his face and immediately, you had a gut feeling that things were gonna go south.

You watched nervously as he signals for a few of his clique to get ready at the count of three, and exactly when you and Wonwoo stopped at the end, did everything unleash at the speed of light.

It took you a moment to process what happened, only finding yourself drenched from head to toe with water, and a teacher scolding Jeonghan and his friends. Everything was a blur, and before you know it, you were pulled towards backstage, gone from your side.

"What happened?" Gaeul asked, concern laced around her voice.

"Jeonghan got his revenge," you muttered, eyes still wandering around to where Wonwoo had gone. "Where's Wonwoo?"

"He's—"

"Here." You turned to find Wonwoo approaching, the suit he was wearing drenched as well, but a towel was hanging around his neck. "Are you okay?" He handed you a towel, and you thanked him, nodding.

"Are you okay?" you asked, squeezing water out of your hair before letting it hang off your shoulders. "I'm sorry for what happened."

"I think asking our classmates to do something special was a bad idea," Wonwoo states, reaching out and grabbing one end of your towel, gently rubbing your hair with it. "Especially if Jeonghan has a personal vendetta against you, Y/N."

You pouted, sighing, your shoulders slouched. "I know." Wonwoo glanced at your defeated expression, the corner of his lips twitching upwards, finding you adorable for a moment.

"I honestly thought that they'd use confetti or something, like, cut paper up, not water," you continued to rant, growing angry as Wonwoo tried to dry your hair. "I'm sorry that you had to be collateral damage to Jeonghan's grudge against me, I feel like I ruined your first experience as the center of attention."

"It was an experience, I'll give you that," he chuckles, finally letting the end of the towel fall from his hands. "But, I did have fun. I'm more worried about our costume, though."

The both of you glanced down at your drenched costumes, knowing well enough that this would put a dent in your wallet to dry clean. "Because I dragged you into this, I'll handle it."

"No."

Here we go again.

"I'm not broke, Wonwoo, I can handle it."

"Neither am I, Y/N, I'm wearing it."

"But you're here against your will."

He laughed, "I already told you I had fun."

"Even though we were publicly humiliated?" you asked, your lips pouted.

He rolled his eyes, nodding, "Yes."

You looked at him in surprise, "Really?" Again, he nods. "Well, maybe I should string you along on these things more often."

He threw his back in laughter at that statement, shaking his head as he calmed down, before uttering, "You're an idiot."

Not feeling offended at all, you only grinned wider, responding, "But I'm your idiot."

His questioning look only made you shake your head, "Let's go find clothes at lost and found to change in." Not pressing into the topic more, Wonwoo nodded, reaching up and ruffling your hair as the two of you walked to change out of your drenched clothes, mentally cursing Jeonghan because you were now cold.

But, you couldn't help but mentally thank the guy, because of this, maybe you wouldn't have been exposed to the gentle, attentive side of Wonwoo as he made sure you were changed out and comfortable, before changing himself.

And maybe, just maybe, if Jeonghan wasn't such a menace, you might've not gotten sick and Wonwoo wouldn't be in your house right now, a bowl of chicken soup in his grasp.

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #wonwoo x you #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #heartsfromia writes

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crazyexdirkfriend · 11 months

Note

Hi Tony i want to ask something of you. In fanon more often than not i see Jake becoming slightly more unhinged and unnerving as he gets older. Do you think this would hpapen canonically? Or are all these fanartsits and writers just projecting what they want from jake on jake

This isn't a hate on it by the way, I just realised the other day I see more often the idea of Jake becoming more unnerving as he gets older alongside Dirk and that i'd accepted it and I'm unsure if its canonically viable or not.

I actually think the nature of Jake is that people project what they want on to him-- be you an author, an audience, or a character within the text. It's an interesting concept because Jake is a character who is never afforded free will and even in fanfiction and transformative works made to give Jake free will, he's still a character doing an author's bidding ultimately.

There's a bit in Meat that discusses this with Calliope and Dirk iirc. Calliope wants Jake to have free will, but Dirk argues that Jake is incapable of free will. And truly, even on a metatextual level, the existence of a narrative voice renders basically everyone, but especially Jake, incapable of free will within a narrative.

I don't know if you've seen Revolutionary Girl Utena, but there's an exchange in Utena that I believe they're referencing intertextually here between Utena and Touga about Anthy. Utena insists that Anthy does not want to be the rose bride, and Anthy confirms this. But when Touga defeats Utena and takes Anthy as the rose bride himself, Anthy claims being the rose bride is all she's ever wanted. Touga then says Anthy is incapable of free will and her expressions of "wanting to be a normal girl" when with Utena were just Utena projecting her own wants on to Anthy and claiming them to be free will.

(pinch of salt, I haven't rewatched Utena in a few years, but this is how I remember the scene)

In many ways, this is what Calliope, and us as authors, do to Jake, and what in text Dirk is criticising as a concept. He's like, well I'm projecting my desires and wants on to Jake and you say that's bad but at least I'm being honest about it. I'm treating Jake like a puppet, but that's all he's ever going to be anyway.

Er. I think I've got wildly off topic from your actual question.

I think getting older in many ways is realising that being 14 is a state of mind and that's just who you occasionally are for the rest of your life. So yeah, I think ageing does come with this element of derangement. I have a lot of thoughts about Jake as effectively this ageing child star, put on a pedestal on Earth-C at 16 and it becoming insidious, exploitative.

Jake is self aware of his lack of agency on a literal level within the narrative, perhaps even of the narrative itself-- like a gilded bird cage of his own making and he probably could slip out between the bars but then who would he be, where would he go, would everyone hate him and abandon him? He'll just stay trapped, stay pretty on display, stay hurt until everyone probably leaves anyway because an audience is a very very fickle thing.

And I think that does sort of lead to an angle for me of Sunset Boulevard, tearing the yellow wallpaper, the starlet breakdown. Which is the depressing, almost Swift approach to it. And then you have the Ultimate Jake approach to it, the Snap. And yeah, I think historically Jake takes and takes and takes and bends and bends and bends and is called selfish for that and eventually that would snap anyone. If on top of that, he's aware of Dirk's actions and of the narrative, of being on display constantly even if he escapes that little bird cage, if the only way to ensure people stop fucking looking at him is to destroy the audience itself-- yes, I would accept that story as viable for his character.

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mollisangelus · 10 months

Text

Perspective Is A Fickle Thing

Dom! Alpha! Izuku x Soft! Omega! Reader

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: Izuku is super out of character right now, but bare with me, it'll get there. Everything will make sense.

TW: None!

♡———♡

You found yourself thinking about that day a lot. You talked so much, that you ended up going somewhere else to get dinner. It was just so easy, which you found surprising. You didn't like new people much. The best part was the way he even paid for it, the memory burning into your mind and causing blush to dance along your complexion quite quickly.

"It's a shame Ura couldn't come, but duty calls."

You sighed and nodded, "Yeah, she just seems to always overwork herself.."

Just then, the waiter appeared, check in hand. "I hope you both enjoyed your night, an adorable couple really. I'll be right back to grab the check." With that, he was gone before either of you could protest. Not that Izuku seemed like he was going to, his eyes on the check as he goes to grab it.

In your flustered state, you clumsily grab your small purse and dig to grab your card. It takes you a minute or so, and Izuku is confused as to what you are doing until you pull it out.

"I'll pay tip too, so don't worry!" With that, you go to place your card in there and write a note to split the cost, but Izuku is quick to stop you.

"Don't be silly, I'm paying." His hands are on yours to keep you from the check, and his eyes seem to burn in your skin. You feel the spotlight and your spine tingles. It was just like earlier. It was like you were left no room to argue, but you were awkward naturally anyways.

"Oh, okay.." you mumbled, biting on your bottom lip in nervousness.

You both ended the night with him giving you his number and driving you home, because it was much too dark and late for you to walk and take the bus. He insisted. It felt like a date, for sure, but your conversation was aimed towards business, which was obviously his goal.

It was a business date! That's right! Perfectly normal, I mean that is why you had a meeting in the first place! It just proves that it went so well!

After coming to that conclusion, you felt so light on your feet for the next week and a half, and your enthusiasm for work seemed to triple! You had so much work to do if the number 1 hero puts his faith in you! So, as you're tinkering with one of Uraraka's sidekick's gadgets that were recently crushed one day, you get a text. It was odd, you don't talk to many people, especially outside of work. Anyone in your circle would just come to you. Your curiosity wins this time, and as the cat screams, you peer at your screen. The childish name 'green boi💚' is on the notification, with 'new message' underneath. You mentally curse yourself for the high school girl butterflies, yey you're still quick to unlock your phone and read.

"Let's have dinner again, I'd like to talk about a proposition."

You freeze for a moment and your thoughts race. What does that mean? Proposition? You start to type your confusion till your stupidity hits you like a bus. A job, he wants to offer you a job. Your cheeks flare as you text back.

Quickly, you texted back, "Wow, I'm honored! Just send me when and where!" Anxious butterflies flutter in your stomach as you type, and you have to double back on words. It wasn't that big of a deal, even as you try to tell yourself that though, your omega and heart are soaring. Your nerves seem to be burning out as you bite at your lip, waiting for a response.

"I'll call you."

Then before you could make an excuse, your phone was buzzing with his contact name lighting up the screen. Shock flares through you, and you juggle your phone clumsily with your surprise.

As you struggle to keep a grip, you shakily swiped up and put the device to your ear. "H-hi..?" God, you must sound so weak right now. Not very confident business woman of you.

"Hi! I'll pick you up around 8, alright? So just send me your address. I had to call cause my hands are a bit busy at the moment." You hear movement in the background and clink of something on a table.

"O-oh, okay! You don't have to pick me up, I can walk…!" You were so quiet, so nervous. You did your best to keep the cheerful chip at the end, but your heart hammered with each stutter.

"Nonsense, I'm not making you walk in the dark." It was final.

"Are you sure?" You appreciated a gentleman, but you couldn't stand being inconvenient. Not even in the littlest ways.

"____. I'm picking you up, send me your address, okay? I have to go, I'll see you at 8." This time it really was final, the sound of a hang up in your ear.

You could have protested, could have insisted you walk, but you're immediately typing your address like you were told. Just who is this man?

A/N: can you believe I'm alive? I'll try to at least finish this before I lose hyperfocus.

#a/b/o #izuku midoria x reader #bnha izuku #bnha smut #izuku mydoria #deku midoriya #deku x y/n #dom/sub #alpha and omega #omega reader

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blueparadis · 1 year

Text

𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐃; 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐌𝐀

( 𝐜𝐰. )_ makima x demi-human!f!(dom)reader, supernatural au, slight canon typical elements, pov!shifts, pwp, 1night-stands, pinning, wlw, friends with benefits, ēxplicit sūmt, power dynamics, s/d dynamics, mention of succubus, undertones of violence and murder. 𝐰𝐜 :: 2k.

( 𝐬𝐲𝐧. )_ being an assassin in the world of devil hunters was not a walk in the park; until y/n was forced to make a deal with the demon.

( 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. )_ @6-022-10-23 OMG bunny finally it's here 😭 I'm so sorry that I made you wait for so long. I finished it earlier than expected... I tried my best to align with the ideas you gave me but can't promise much. Well, i hope you enjoy this. Ik i did >:)) | redirect to blog navigation.

Being born to a renowned family with a long chain of pure bloodlines, where the next generation is blessed with astounding abilities to surpass the previous heir, is not in everyone's stars. Those who have it, despise it and those who do not, they envy it. But neither was the case with y/n. She came from a family of trained guards. Her family was part of a small clan who were devoted to ‘leaders’. They have dedicated their life, body, and soul to their leaders and they must protect them at all costs. That is their fate. That is their purpose in life. That is why they are born.

Another lukewarm Friday night rolled in.. Y/n was humming to herself as she combed her hair. It has been ten years since her parents passed away. They were killed by a local mafia gang who claimed to be as their ‘money-lender’ and hence, y/n had to work for them to pay off the debt. But fate is such a fickle whore when it comes to enacting a perfect revenge. While the money-lender slept peacefully every night, y/n spent every night being wide awake drunk on revenge. On one such night she decided to visit the church, just to calm herself but instead came back with blood all over her tattered clothes and a demon residing inside her, a succubus. The demon insatiable with lust, and her mind hungry for vengeance. What could be more appropriate than to make a deal with a succubus to enact her perfect revenge? It was a Friday just like today when she killed all the made men of the local mafia gang along with the leader and received loads of cash from the government as a reward. Her parents must be proud of her.

“Lily, I can now braid my hair like my mother.” Y/n chimed looking at the mirror. She blinked twice and uttered, “Amen” The reflection in the mirror did not change except for her eye color. It turned red. Although there was no one in the room, she kept talking. “Well, I hate that I can't cut my hair now. It has become so long and sometimes it gets in the way.” She let her body fall on the soft mattress and exhaled deeply. “You know you cannot cut your hair.” a voice echoed in her room.

“Should we go to the parlor to color our hair?” she asked scrolling through her contact list. They were full of gang leaders from several parts of the town. “yeah. We can. I don't think it would affect our bond.” Hearing such a green signal made Y/n’s heart jump with joy. She laughed and mentioned that the first thing in the morning she would do is eat a burger from Mcdonald's and then go straight to the parlor.

Yes, being in contract with a demon came with more pros than cons or at least that is how y/n wished to see it. From the day she had a contract with the succubus, she was never alone. Lilith, in short, Lily, the succubus was always there to watch over her whether she liked it or not. Better to get along than to enrage a demon— that was the idea; she wished to follow it till the last breath of her life. And why should not she? She is now a government-aided bounty hunter who has a deal with a demon. What could possibly go wrong?

“Is this seat taken?” A woman with peach-colored hair, perfectly braided who wore a pair of formal trousers and a shirt enquired softly holding her food tray that contained a soft drink and a pack of french fries. Y/n scanned the cafeteria and found two men in black suits guarding the entrance and exit of the place. You moved to a side without responding hoping she would take the sit next to you but she did not. Instead, she sat in front of you.

“She looks tasty.” The food stuck in your throat, your cheeks warming instantly at the voice of Lily at the back of your mind. She has a habit of doing this, especially around men. Maybe y/n was too comfortable as a vessel for her. Chugging half of the water bottle you were about to ask her. . . but she shot her chance first. “You are,” She rested her chin on the back of her palms leaning over the table. “You are the one who killed a group of fifty men of a local gang a few years ago. Isn't that right?”

Bingo. Damn right. She came doing her research. Just like the people say, her presence alone is formidable. Wonder how much she knows about you? Is she aware of the fact that y/n knows the devil she is in contract with? Taking in a deep breath through your nose you tartly spoke, “And, you are the one who died quite a few times, Makima.” you took another bite from half of the burger. “quite fatal I presume yet here we are.” She cocked her head to a side, eyes almost ready to devour your presence, your soul, your spirit, and everything else around you. But you kept eating. Grabbing the napkin you left your seat exclaiming, “Yet here we are drinking, eating. chatting.” without maintaining eye contact. As you walked passed by her you heard a sharp intake of breath. Makima gasped as she felt your presence fade away. what on earth was that? it was as if two famishing comets crossing each other while destroying other celestial bodies.

That was the first time when y/n met Makima. Strange things started to occur after that, as in, you kept seeing her several times, crossing paths at local bars and restaurants. Must be work you thought and brushed it off. But one day you spotted her at a cozy bar that was adorned with neon lights in a quiet revealing dress — that is unlike her. “She’s alone.” Lilith’s voice echoed in your head.

“you think so?” you whispered lowly. “she is always with her guard dogs.”

“no, no. I meant she is lonely.” Sharing a look with Lily through the reflection of the wine glass you thought, ‘Really? How could you tell?’

“Y/n L/n we know our kind. no matter how much power we have, we are lonely. We can have anything using that power, so in the end, without it we're nothing.” You swirled your drink as she added. “she must be having one of those days.”

“Like we have periods?” you asked a little louder than usual, earning a look from the bartender. It is a good thing that you always keep the Bluetooth headphones plugged in, even if they are turned off. They saved you many times.

“Perhaps. But we sometimes get tired of it. Of our power.” what a cruel thing to say for a powerful being to a powerless creature. You gulped the rest of the drink, grabbed your purse, and left the place. You can not make the same mistake twice. You can not take another demon into your house.

A few weeks passed.

When the full moon was beaming at her brightest, the stars were celebrating her beauty, human life was being absorbed by you and Lilith was having her share of meal y/n crossed paths with Makima again. She was in her work attire. Both of you had blood splotches here and there. Without exchanging any set of words you offered her a cigarette. She took it. Puffing out a drag you blurted. “My house is nearby. I'll get you fresh set of clothes.”

“Is that so?” she asked lighting her cigarette. Part of you presumed she would be such a good girl unaware of how to light a cigarette to upload her reputation. “Fine by me.” It was a friendly walk under the full moon. She told him that she is grateful for this, might as well repay you if given a chance.

“It's fine. sooner or later I'll probably work under you. Better to appease you than to lock horns ” you said in a robotic manner like you were taught. But you did not expect Makima to laugh at this. “oh!she likes you.”

‘Lily not now. NOT. NOW.' you warned.

You showed her the bathroom and gave her a fresh set of clothes. Meanwhile, you got refreshed too. When you were out of the bathroom, in just a pair of spaghetti and shorts you noticed Makima was drying her hair with the towel. You smiled exchanging glances. You stood behind her to get a look in the mirror. Makima’s hands turned lithe, eyes focusing on your reflection as you closed the gap between her and yourself. You could feel her breath rising and falling faster than usual. All you did was stare at her a little longer and then Makima tore her eyes away. Before she could escape you clamped your palms against the edge of the dressing table. Her hands blocked her chest, in a manner of self-defense or being embarrassed. You leaned closer, closer than she expected, closer than you expected.

“you look very fresh.” leaning further to reach her petite shoulders, you whispered. “you are staying for tonight, right?”

’course she is. You felt her fingers on your boobs, lightly grazed and the next thing you knew was you had her pinned against the wall, her hands clasped above her head and another grip on yours holding her in place. Melodious moans filled the room, no resistance from her side. Warm - wet neck kisses, boobs being pressed to one another, rubbing against each other as both of you hungrily shared mind-numbing kisses.

She was trying to get rid of your hold from her wrists. At least she was trying to but it was not enough. Your lips peppering kisses on her chest overpowered her strength. Makima was in no state to use control. You broke the kiss standing inches apart from her, looking right into her galactic eyes — last chance before you devour her, a last chance to say no.

Makima was quick and straightforward. So, you expected her to be like that in bed too but she was not. All she does was work. She goes for a drink but that is not enough to blow off steam for the line of work she is in. Y/n had thought about this many times after spotting Makima in that bar. She looked every bit of you when you were human.

Carefully, getting rid of the nightgown Makima looked at you sheepishly. You smiled and guided her to the bed, hovering above her, maintaining eye contact as you inserted your hands inside her panty. Warm, wet, needy. It did not take you long to push two sets of fingers inside her while your lips worked over her areola. Her hands tried to reach your feminity but she was too lost in chasing her high. You pushed your fingers further and quickened the pace feeling her strong grip over your arms, eyes shutting, back arching as her fluids coated your hand.

Sure, Lilith fed on lust but her preys were not on women, only men. It has been a while since you had slept with someone and they were still alive. To think that, a girl like her would be a virgin was every bit of shocking it was as much as it was exciting otherwise she would not have been tired just after three rounds of orgasm. At least, you expected her to be awake for pillow talk or even sharing a smoke. Stealthily, you left the bed standing in front of the mirror in the same spaghetti and shorts but with bite marks all over your neck, and waistline.

“told you she was a virgin.”

You rolled your eyes and headed towards the bathroom grabbing your phone.

@tokyometronetwork @public-safety-network @underratedcharactercorner

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 8 months

Note

Hey I would like to request a good omens Crowley x reader angsty sad fic where they are pining over him but he loves aziraphale and they don’t want to interfere. Kind of Laufey’s song Let You Break My Heart Again vibes. Thx!!❤️

"Why couldn't I have what THEY had, [y/n]?! Maybe it's...it's all part of God's great ineffable plan! As if fallin' weren't enough...y'know? Why not allow him to walk outta my life and crawl back to the other angelss, too? Keep fuckin' me over, I suppose. This must be karma, I swear.."

"Crowley.." You began, only to stop as the demon on the other end of the line continued his drunken sorrowful ramblings.

He was still clearly hurting, and you were his only company left.

The only one who knew about him and Aziraphale and everything they've done together for the past 6,000 years.

You've been around for a thousand or so, not aligned with Heaven nor Hell, but living as a simple immortal being.

However, only very recently have you learned that they've in fact known each other since the very dawn of Creation.

So their history goes way back.

It's no secret that Crowley's been pining after the angel all these years, forced to pretend he hates him just because he was on the "opposite side".

But he was sick of doing all of that, and finally got the courage to tell him how he really felt. He begged him to stay, to stop taking sides, and to think about just them for once.

In the end, Aziraphale still chose the side that shunned him for conspiring with a demon, halting Armageddon, and hiding Gabriel on Earth...all because he was offered a higher position of power and couldn't so easily let go of Heaven.

Not as easily as Crowley could. He couldn't understand that, or why Gabriel and Beelzebub could go off together and they couldn't.

Now you were here, having to comfort the very same demon that you've fallen in love with yourself.

It felt like such a selfish desire, knowing that you haven't lived nearly as long as either of them. You weren't there at the beginning of Everything. You weren't there at the Garden of Eden.

You could never fully understand their deep-rooted bond.

There's no way he would ever see you in a remotely similar light.

Even still, the heart wants what it wants..even if it's unobtainable.

"Listen, Crowley.." You tried speaking again. "I'm next in line, do you want anything?"

Perhaps that was rather poorly worded, as you heard a sniffle and what sounded like him holding back a sob. "I just want him to come back.." His voice broke.

There was that feeling again, constricting your human heart with pain.

It was such a fickle organ, you often thought. It kept people alive, yet when put through emotional toil..it felt like it was killing them, and they wanted nothing more than to rip it out of their chest to be rid of the pain.

But right in this moment, you felt like that because deep down...you wish he instead said that he wanted-

"W-Wait..you're..at that café 'cross the bookshop, right?" You heard Crowley mumble. "I'll get the usual..assuming she remembers. Actually...don't bother-"

"It's fine, Crow. It'll be my treat. I'm getting something, too...not that we actually need it. But we both enjoy it, right?"

"...right." He chuckled depressingly. "Fine. I'll be outside."

That was a surprise, although when you briefly glanced outside the window of Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death, you noticed the Bentley parked next to the sidewalk. You sighed, hanging up the phone before you stepped up to the register, smiling at Nina.

"Hello, Nina. I'll have my usual..and Mr. Crowley's, too. Six espresso shots, was it? And one of those [favorite flavor] pies, pretty please." You pointed to the menu.

"On it." She nodded, already getting to work on your order. "You know, I haven't seen that chap around in a while. How's he holding up? I heard he took it pretty hard."

"Yeah." You muttered, recalling how you've talked to her about your own feelings for Crowley.

You weren't expecting a human to solve the relationship woes of immortal beings when she herself was going through her own issues.

She worried that her and Maggie's little "intervention" caused the demon and angel to split up, but you didn't blame her. And neither did Crowley, although he was torn between wishing he didn't kiss Aziraphale and wondering if he'd regret not doing that at all.

He hasn't been back at the coffee shop since.

"Well, do you plan to tell him anytime soon?"

You nearly choked on your own spit. "N-Nina...I..I can't just do that. He clearly doesn't see me that way. He talks about him every day and night. I've stayed up past midnight consoling him, letting him stay with me the moment I learned he's sleeping outta his car. But...it's him he loves, not me. And I can't interfere with that..it would be wrong."

"Then...what's your plan from here?" She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"..I'm not sure anymore. I guess hope that one day..I'll stop falling in love with him. Maybe his angel will come back and everything will be as it was."

"Sounds like wishful thinking at this point, but I'm sure things will work out. Maybe he'll move on."

"I doubt it, but time will tell."

"Right." After finishing the drinks, she set them down into a cupholder, before giving you the pie as well. You paid and bid her farewell before heading out of the café and to the Bentley.

Inside, you saw Crowley sulking, lost in thought until you knocked on the passenger's window. He sat up with a start, fixing his glasses when he realized it was you. "S-Sorry."

The door opened, and you slid inside, passing him the tall cup with tons of espresso shots. "It's okay. So..where did you wanna go today?"

"I was thinkin'..St. James Park. Feel like I've been neglecting the ducks for far too long."

You blinked. 'Wasn't that..his and Aziraphale's thing-?'

"Yeah, I know..it...was our thing." He responded as though he read your mind. "'s just..been so lonely without him to chatter to. I hate siting all alone on that bench. But it's not like I can just walk Upstairs and tell him to screw all of them, right?"

"Sadly..no." Shaking your head, you glanced over your shoulder at the plants he's shoved into his backseat. Closest to you was a venus fly trap that had spots and other flaws, looking rather frail and wilted and sad.

Not too different from how its owner felt.

You smiled sadly and stroked the top of its head with your thumb, feeling it cease its trembles. Its mouth closed as it seemed to...purr?

How cute.

"Well would ya look at that...ya even treat the bloody things the same as he did.."

You tensed, looking back to Crowley and frowning upon seeing the tears sliding down his cheeks. But he was quick to wipe them away once you noticed them, yet a sniffle still managed to escape him.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to keep doing stuff that reminds you of him.." You set a hand on his back. "Do you...want me to drive?"

"No, it's fine.." He shook his head, sniffling loudly one last time before he managed to pull himself together. "Let's just..go."

You nodded, taking a sip of your coffee and a small bite of your pie, before you reached for the radio-

However, you forgot that the Bentley was sentient, instead turning it on for you and playing a song that nearly made you choke once again.

"--All I've had is coffee and leftover pie. It's no wonder why. Ooooh, still you take up all my mind. I don't even think that you care like I do. I should stop, Heaven knows I've tried..."

Even Crowley froze as he listened to the lyrics.

And not because it wasn't a Queen song.

"One day, I will stop falling in love with you."

Neither of you spoke a word, instead staring at the dashboard with looks of sadness upon your faces. You thought he would've changed the song by now, but...when you looked over, you could see his glasses now resting on the bridge of his nose.

His golden irises have almost completely taken over the whites of his eyes.

What little you saw of them..

Were growing redder and glossier.

"Some day, someone will like me like I like you."

You felt your own eyes start to sting, too, so you looked away and opted to pet the venus fly trap that was nuzzling your hand, clearly asking for more much-needed affection.

Sentient plants were easy to comfort.

If only your demon friend could be the same way..

If only you could show him that you wished to be more than just friends..but this simply wasn't your place to tell him that.

Not here, not now...and possibly not ever. For as long as you lived on this mortal plane.

All you could hope was that one day, the feeling will pass.

If Aziraphale came back, things might be better. You wished the idiot would at least check in with you both once in a while so you knew he was alive.

If that's the last time you hear from him, well....you weren't sure if Crowley would ever want to try loving again after what he's suffered through. He poured his heart out, only for it to get broken and stomped on before being left all alone on Earth.

He couldn't go through that again.

And you didn't wanna say anything about how you felt for the centuries you've known him. He could very well perceive that as you trying to replace him and ruin this friendship.

The wounds in his heart are still clearly fresh..and they likely will be for a long, long time.

For now, you'll just be by his side and be mindful. Perhaps he'll eventually realize how you felt about him...but you doubt it.

"Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie. Pretend we are more than friends. Then of course, I'll let you break my heart again-"

Crowley's hand suddenly shot towards the button, the car filling with an abrupt silence as he shut off the music. Then he switched between several Queen songs, eyebrows furrowed as none of them seemed to suit his current mood.

If Queen didn't make him happy anymore...he was seriously in emotional distraught.

But eventually he settled for "Somebody to Love", and you smiled, wiping your eyes as you leaned back in the seat. "Good choice."

He nodded absentmindedly, before finally driving off to the park after adjusting his glasses.

No further words were exchanged. You didn't even scold him for speeding down the tightly-knitted roads of London. That's the last thing he needed right now.

Especially since you picked up that habit from Aziraphale.

But even as Freddie's voice reverberated through the Bentley, you two couldn't stop thinking about the lyrics of Laufey's song and what it meant to both of you.

Yet the people it reminded you of...were completely different.

#ough i listened to this song on repeat while editing this </3 #hurts like a bish #clanask #good omens x reader #good omens 2 spoilers #crowley x reader #ineffable husbands #immortal reader #angst

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pix3lplays · 3 months

Note

I'm laughing so hard at the idea that Duke Inferno/Ifrit is like a Rapidash where it'll only burn you if it doesn't trust you, and because of course he trusts no one, everyone gets burned.

Except you, dear reader. And he doesn't like that. He found out by accident, and you hadn't been aware. Maybe you were serving him, panicked like everyone else, fixing fire-resistant clothing or polishing his horns (he'd make people do it under threat of death and then laugh when they get burned, I 100% believe he's a sadist).

So he might be cruel, keep you around to toy with as a pet, a "mild curiosity." But one he never lets get close to him after his discovery. He might suspect you're a spy or assassin. The more time passes, the less likely it seems, especially since you honestly show fear when he pops out of nowhere. And it keeps on like that.

Until one, fateful day, where he wants to see just how close he can really get. Maybe it's just to test you, see if you're like him, created perhaps but not knowing. So he can get more utility out of you (if you are like him). Was the Stellarion put inside you by a creator as fickle as his (it was hinted the genius society is responsible for the Duke). All those thoughts/considerations.

He has to see if it's a fluke. I don't know if he'd terrorize you and blindfold you while he experiments, like hey can you touch his face (you'd only feel something akin to smooth metal)? Can you touch the flames on his neck (they'd feel soft to you, some energy pushback but like the surface of water)? What ARE you?? And you wouldn't know what you're touching, until it hurts (I think he might hold a heated pad to you and turn it up until you're uncomfortable just to see if you're only resistant to HIS energy or if it's all heat transference).

I can't imagine his reaction when he realizes it's just because some part of him feels something other than disdain for you.

It's trust. Not trust as in "I know you're too weak to do anything," but instead "I know you on a deeper level and I don't know how else to describe it." It would baffle him, I think. And it might be awhile before he figures out what to do with you!

Cw! Power-imbalance, sadist Duke Inferno, pet human dynamic, physical abuse (burning reader)

Ooooh okay Delightful…

Duke Inferno is a Rapidash oh my gosh I love that take you’re so right-

And yes sadist Duke Inferno is something I will push. It would suck to be his personal assistant before he realized he actually liked you.

You’re getting burned ALL THE TIME, and he’s SO mean too…he sees those quaint little fireproof gloves you bought for yourself and he banned you from wearing them.

His little pet human…you wonder what the heck he gets out of leaving your hands and lower arms all burned and blistered but he gets some sort of sick satisfaction from hurting you.

Sorry I’m a bit off topic going with this whole personal assistant route but…the first time you touch him and it doesn’t burn you?? The way you both don’t even know what to think. You have no idea he doesn’t burn people he trusts, so what the heck are you supposed to think??

But he knows to an extent, it’s just never happened to him until now. Yeah, this requires some experimentation.

The thought of him actually trusting you disturbs him so badly that he’d rather experiment on you instead of just accepting that he might trust you.

I think he’d be. Pretty mad when it dawns on him that he literally just trusts you and therefore can’t hurt you so easily and entertainingly anymore.

He won’t tell you why he’s unable to burn you now but you’re certainly not complaining. You can actually straighten his clothes or polish his horns without worrying about getting Literally BURNED with FIRE.

You don’t say anything about it. You don’t want to upset him, and you’re smart enough to know mentioning it will make him mad.

He’s not stupid though. He knows you’re wondering. But he’s not going to give you the satisfaction of telling you.

It’s so confusing because like you said he literally doesn’t know how to handle it or what to do with you. He takes away some of your privileges in the mansion. And then gives them back and adds privileges. You’re like literally WHAT is going on.

Maybe it somehow comes up while you’re dealing with his kids and they explain it to you.

Literally what are you supposed to do with that information?? You can’t bring it up to him. He’ll get MAD.

So you’re just constantly dancing around it when you’re with him, avoiding any mention of it, pretending you don’t even notice he’s not able to hurt you anymore.

You’re always by his side now, not really having a clue that he’s constantly just keeping an eye on you.

Maybe he becomes a little protective over you in a way.

He’s the only one who’s allowed to treat you poorly. Anyone else treats you badly? No one will find their body.

Alright I’ve ran out of things to say but yeah.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Duke Inferno #Duke Inferno x reader #Hsr Duke Inferno x reader #honkai star rail Duke Inferno x reader

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d1xonss · 5 days

Text

Desert Rose

Chapter 45 ~ All Good things Must come to an End

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Rose

✧ Era : Season 4

✧ Word Count : 5.8k

In this chapter ~ After living in the newfound community for six whole months, things seem to still be going strong. Relationships had been built, responsibilities had been taken care of, and for the most part, everyone was happy. Though...it can't always stay that way forever.

The smell of cooking meat and eggs filled my senses as I allowed my mind wander for the fifth time that morning alone. Time was a fickle thing, always somehow getting away from me in the end as it was always hard to keep track of and catch. But I couldn't help but try and count the days, knowing that sometime in the upcoming dates would mark six whole months since our community first started. And it still to this day couldn't be more perfect.

I found myself to be very content with where I was in life right now, I was happy, only growing closer with the people we surrounded ourselves with. Though I knew if my past self could see me now, she would be screaming at me. Like I'm talking absolutely losing her shit screaming at me, knowing how much I couldn't trust people in the beginning. But allowing myself out of my shell was probably the best thing that could've ever happened to me. I had never had a family like this before, and I found that I tried to cherish it whenever I got the chance, especially recently.

"Oh, careful it's going to burn!" Carol's somewhat panicked voice spoke up from beside me.

I snapped out of it in an instant, "Shit," I quietly cursed and took the meat off of the makeshift stove, waving my hand over it to get rid of the smoke as it fizzled down.

She peeked around me for a moment and smiled to herself, "You saved it." she said in slight relief before laughing lightly, "What's got you so distracted?"

I glanced over at her as I began to plate the cooked breakfast, "All good things, I promise. I was just...thinking about how far we've come. How happy I am."

Her smile got wider, "We have come pretty far, huh?" she asked while wrapping an arm around my shoulders, looking out to all the people chatting and doing their own thing beyond where we stood.

"We're lucky." I stated as I finished scooping up the food.

She looked back over at me, "Yeah, we are. Couldn't imagine it working out any better than this," she agreed as she gave my shoulder a squeeze, before pulling away to go back to her own pan, "Who's that plate for?"

"Rick." I stated, "I know if I don't give this to him, he won't eat anything at all. I'll just be a sec, you got it handled?" I asked knowingly.

Her only response was to give me a certain look as I laughed to myself, grabbing the plate and heading down to where I knew Rick would be busying himself this morning. These days he seemed to be constantly staying down near the gates, managing the crops we had planted and taking care of the animals we somehow managed to find. In my opinion he didn't really give himself a break and was overworking to the max.

Getting up at the ass crack of dawn just to get a head start on feeding the pigs and checking the vegetables, it's something that he didn't need to be doing. And he knew it too. But he was too stubborn to slow down or take it easy, so I just let him be.

I spotted him in the distance as I slowly walked down the small hill, heading towards the grass to see him filling up the water in the stables. His arms shook slightly as he lifted the weight of the gallons of water, sweat dripping off his forehead as he tried to wipe it on the sleeve of his shirt.

"Hey, Old McDonald!" I yelled to get his attention.

He whipped his head towards me, and a smile broke out onto his face as he squinted his eyes from the blinding sun behind my head, "Yeah, Rosie?" he asked.

I made my way closer to him and let out a small breath, holding out the plate, "Breakfast." I said simply.

"No, I can't, my hands are filthy." he said while looking down at the dirt and mud that was coated everywhere along his palms, under his fingernails.

I frowned, "Okay." I said while grabbing some of the meat in my hand and holding it up towards his face.

He raised an eyebrow, "What are you doing?"

"You said your hands are filthy, but you need to eat...so eat." I said while holding my hand closer to his mouth, dangling the meat from my grasp.

"I'll eat later." he replied.

My eyes narrowed as I wasn't budging and he only sighed in response, slowly opening his mouth anyway. I smiled in victory and dropped the meat in his mouth, listening in as he informed me of the things that needed to be adjusted down here in the fields. It was quite the boring topic of choice, but I only wanted to make sure he actually ate something seeing as he was baking in the hot sun constantly.

Though there were times we had to speak a little louder because of the walkers piled up along the fence, snarling and banging on the flimsy barrier, making too much damn noise. There were a lot of them, and although we had people clearing them every day, they still seemed to be a problem. It had never been an issue before now, but I figured with the amount of noise and people we had behind the gates, it only drew more of them closer.

Suddenly, Rick and I seemed to momentarily stop our conversation when we heard a pair footsteps approaching, the two of us turning around to see Carl coming our way rather quickly like he was late.

He smiled at me before looking towards his dad, "You didn't wake me up." he spoke a little out of breath.

"Cause I knew you were up all night reading comics with a flashlight." he stated with a raised eyebrow.

Both boys then slowly looked toward me knowingly. Carl had a smirk on his face while Rick didn't look the least bit amused as I held my hands up in surrender, "What the hell are you looking at me for?"

"You're the one who got him the comics Ro." Rick stated with a tilt of his head.

"Hey," I said pointing at him, "Michonne got him some of those comics too, why don't you yell at her."

He tried to suppress a chuckle, "Well, she's not here, so you're the only one I can blame right now."

I placed a hand over my heart in mock offense, "Well, that's hurtful." I stated, causing them both to laugh, "You know what, I should've let you starve." I said while placing the paper plate on the thick wooden fence.

"Now that's hurtful." Rick stated, his tone still dripping with sarcasm.

I just raised my hands again with a smirk on my face, "Enjoy your father son bonding time." I winked before backing away.

However, Carl caught my arm before I could get too far, leaning in to whisper in my ear, "Can you still get me some more on your next run?"

I gave him a pointed look, "Just don't tell your dad and we're good." I warned.

He gave me a smile and nodded excitedly, all while letting go of my arm so I could make my way back up towards the prison. As I slowly approached Carol's station again, a few people were quick to notice my presence, greeting me with praises and smiles on their faces. I managed to be as polite as I could considering how early it was, but the attention Daryl and I were getting was only getting worse.

After I went out with him on that hunt just a few weeks ago, I've been getting out more frequently to help out, and to say the people in the community were grateful would be an understatement. Everywhere we went, we would get stopped to talk, or just a simple thank you as we walked by. We both weren't used to the amount of attention, but I tried my best to hide it. I simply smiled at all the good morning's being thrown my way as I approached Carol again to help her finish up.

"Still aren't getting used to it huh?" she smirked, not taking her eyes off the food in front of her.

It's like she read my goddamn mind.

I sighed, "I don't think I'll ever get used to it." I admitted, "But the funny thing is, Daryl's a lot more awkward than I am so it's worth it to see him squirm a little."

She looked up, "Oh, speak of the devil."

I followed her line of sight once she spoke to see the man himself making his way over to us. There of course were a few greetings as he passed by and I almost busted out laughing at his facial expressions. He didn't know how to respond, giving only a simple nod as he passed through the group of people. Though I felt a big grin spread to my face as I saw his eyes light up when he caught sight of me, his pace picking up the smallest bit.

"Mornin." he drawled, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

"Hey, Daryl!" a woman greeted as she passed the three of us.

He pulled away from me and looked over to the woman who said it, only to look back at me with wide eyes and an annoyed look to his face, "This still happenin to you?"

"Worse." I responded, "Just wait for it." I said while briefly holding up my pointer finger.

Not a second later, a teenage boy passed us in a slight rush, "Goodmorning Rose!" he still managed to call out.

I smiled in response before it quickly dropped again as I looked back at Daryl with the same look he gave me earlier, hearing him chuckle at me as he leaned over the small stove. "Smells good." he commented while looking to see the food we were making.

"Goodmorning Dixons!" a man yelled as he walked by.

Carol looked up to see our faces and laughed lightly to herself, "Just so you know, I liked you two first."

Daryl scoffed a little, "Stop." he muttered, tossing some of the meat in his mouth before continuing, "Ya know, Rick brought a lot of them in too. Wasn't just us."

"Not recently," she responded, "Give the strangers sanctuary, keeping people fed, you're going to have to learn to live with the love." she then turned to look at me, "Even you." she smirked.

"Hey, I'm trying here. Just don't like the attention, it makes me feel...itchy."

"Itchy?" she questioned.

I paused for a moment before nodding more confidently, "Yeah."

"Right," she said before taking the meat off of the stovetop again, "Anyway, I need to show you both something quick, Patrick would you mind taking over?" she asked a teenage boy who was standing too far away from us.

"Yes ma'am." he said politely.

I began to move around the grill, walking towards Daryl who snaked an arm around my waist. I glanced up at him and saw him take the bowl he was eating out of, putting the rim of it up to his mouth to get a huge bite of meat. My brows furrowed, and when he looked down at me and caught me staring, he opened his mouth full of food.

I scrunched up my face, "Gross." I muttered, trying to hold back a chuckle while lightly pushing his face away from me.

"Yer gross." he retorted.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "I swear, I'm married to a child." I laughed.

He gave me a cheeky smile and began to chew to say something else, but the kid, Patrick, cleared his throat suddenly as if to get our attention. The two of us turned to look at him, and he immediately got flustered and nervous when just making eye contact.

"Uh...Mr. and Mrs. Dixon? I just um...wanted to thank you for bringing the deer's back yesterday. I mean... it was a real treat, and I would be honored to shake your hands."

Daryl and I seemed to share some kind of look. I couldn't tell if it was one of humor or one of dread, but either way I had to bite back another laugh as I pulled away from Daryl's grasp, shaking his hand with a small smile.

Daryl, however, wasn't as polite.

As I backed away from Patrick, he looked at me as if he needed confirmation to which I just nodded. But I clearly didn't know what was coming. He then one by one, licked his fingers clean from the meat and used that same hand to shake his firmly. I pressed my lips together to suppress a laugh that threatened to escape as I saw the look on the poor kid's face. Daryl gave him a smug smile before letting go and placing his arm back around my waist so we could follow behind Carol.

I had to wait for a moment or two so we were far enough away, before I couldn't help but laugh quietly to myself. "What?" Daryl asked almost instantly with a small smirk of his own.

I only shook my head, "That was terrible."

"Ah, but ya thought it was funny." he pointed out, giving my side a small squeeze, as if it was his goal to get me to laugh all along.

I rolled my eyes playfully in response as we continued to walk, feeling him place a small kiss on the side of my head. We followed the woman until she suddenly stopped while looking out at the closest fence, the walkers still surrounding it and trying to get through. From an outsider's perspective, it seemed like we were hardly making a dent when in reality we had people out there taking care of them constantly.

"About today," she started, "I don't know if we're gonna be able to spare a lot of people for the run." she said as she gestured to the amount of people already working on clearing the walkers.

"We won't need too many." I reassured, "Plus that place is good to go, we're going to clear it today."

"Yeah," she nodded, "The thing is, we had a pretty big build up overnight. Dozens more towards tower three, and it's getting as bad as last month. They don't spread out anymore."

Daryl spoke up, "With more of us sittin here, we're drawin more of 'em out. Ya get enough of those damn fence-clingers, they start to herd up."

"Pushing against the fences again," I voiced my thoughts out loud, "That had been a bitch to deal with these past few weeks."

"Yeah, it has," Carol agreed, "It's manageable, but unless we get ahead of it, not for long." she spoke before looking towards Daryl, "Sorry pookie." she said before sending a knowing wink my way.

I smiled to myself as I tried not to show too much of a reaction at the nickname Carol had recently given him. Her sole purpose was to get on his nerves and it worked every time without fail, and I personally thought it was hilarious. He scoffed in response, pushing her arm lightly as she walked away from us to go back and finish up whatever she was cooking for the time being. The moment she was out of earshot, I started to laugh quietly to myself.

When my eyes finally moved back up to his face, he was already glaring at me, "Aw pookie." I said while poking his cheek lightly.

He sighed and stood there for a moment as a few beats of silence passed, before he quickly picked me up in one swift motion and tossed me over his shoulder. A small squeal escaped me because of how fast everything happened, feeling him begin to spin me around to I would get dizzy. My protests meant nothing to him as I tried to smack him in order for him to put me back down, but that only seemed to edge him on further, chuckling to himself at his own actions.

"Put me down!" I yelled as my stomach hurt from laughter.

"Quit callin me that." he countered back, beginning to spin me the other way.

My breath caught in my throat as I felt all the blood rushing to my head, "Okay, okay, I give." I spoke slightly out of breath.

He then slowly stopped spinning and carefully lowered himself to put me back down onto my feet. I felt myself sway a little to try and catch my balance, but the whole world was still spinning around me in a nauseating way. He let out another laugh as he placed both of his hands on my arms to help steady me.

"Ya know, I don't really know why I married you. Yer kinda annoying." he joked as he flicked the tip of my nose gently.

My mouth dropped at his words in mock offense, "Well, you're no saint Daryl Dixon, plus there's plenty of other people around here." I gestured to the group around us.

He pretended to look around, scrunching up his face in through for a moment before looking back at me, "Nah...none of 'em are you." he said sweetly before placing a soft kiss on my lips.

I smiled into the kiss, pulling away briefly to mumble, "Damn right." before bringing him in again. He brought his hands to the side of my face and deepened the kiss, feeling his lip slightly upturning into a smirk. But he pulled away before either one of us could get too carried away, leaving a few lingering pecks in the process.

"Alright, we gotta stop or we're gonna be late for that run." he huffed.

I nodded my head in silent agreement, knowing that was nothing but the truth. We headed back towards the cars where a few others were gathering their things, getting a few vehicles ready to head out. Daryl parted from me to pull his bike up closer, leaving me to load the bed of the pickup truck, filling it as much as I could with a few weapons and supplies. Though my eyes glanced up once I saw some movement heading toward me, seeing Tyreese breaking away from his sister before heading my way to place a few things in the back alongside me.

"You're coming along too?" I questioned with a smile on my face.

He shrugged, "Yeah, I figured why not. It's been a while since I've been on a run, and plus you know it's gonna be entertaining when you're going."

I gently pushed his arm, "Oh whatever." I muttered and he smiled at me, before making his way back over to Sasha.

My gaze followed him for only a moment before something to the left pulled my attention away. Zach and Beth stood off to the side, talking quietly with each other before he came along with the rest of us. It was the first time he was coming with us to a place like this, his very first time on a run really and I understood completely why he wanted to see her again before we headed out. Although it seemed like she didn't see the big deal behind it as I watched her shrug it off, feeling Daryl come back next to me to witness the end of the conversation.

She kissed him once more before fully walking away, "Aren't you gonna say goodbye?" he asked.

"Nope!" she yelled over her shoulder, smiling brightly as she passed me, "Bye, Ro."

I nodded to her with a small smile, "It's like a damn romance novel." Daryl grumbled out loud as he zipped up his bag, causing me to hit his arm lightly to get him to stop talking.

But the kid's head snapped over towards him as he clearly heard his hushed words, "Oh you're one to talk." he clapped back.

Daryl glared pointedly at him, pulling away from the truck to approach him and Zach's eyes widened, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he quickly stuttered out before speed walking in the other direction.

Daryl watched him scurry away for a moment before turning back towards me with a smug smile on his face, "Be nice." I scolded lightly with a roll of my eyes, shutting the bed of the truck with a slam.

He shook his head, "Nah, I only like bein nice to you."

I sighed as I placed my hands on my hips, "Okay... then just be civil." I offered.

He scoffed, "Even that's pushin it."

"Daryl." I warned.

"Rosie." he mocked.

I narrowed my eyes at him, "Like I said, a child. I'm married to a child."

"Oh, but ya love me anyways." he said with a goofy grin.

His smile only made me smile, "Yeah, I guess I do." I admitted as I walked over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, "Like a damn romance novel." I whispered with a smirk before walking back towards the others to finally get the show on the road.

Once we got the okay from everyone, Daryl hopped on his bike and held out a hand to help me on the back of it like always. We made our way towards the front gate in a formed line with the cars trailing behind us, and that's when I noticed Rick and Carl were talking with a familiar face. I smiled to myself when I saw Michonne, knowing she must've just gotten back from a run.

To this day she was still looking for The Governor and hasn't given up yet. It honestly broke my heart seeing how much she wanted to find and put an end to him, staying out for longer periods of time now only to come back for a day or two, before she was leaving again. But I supposed it only made me cherish the times when she was here before she disappeared all over again.

The loud rumble of the motorcycle approaching seemed to catch both of their attention as Daryl barely had a chance to slow the thing to a stop before I was quickly hopping off to greet her. She smiled brightly the moment she caught my eye.

"Well, well, look who's back." I said while quickly wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug.

She gave me a gentle squeeze, "It's good to be back." she confirmed, pulling away to wrap an arm around my shoulder and looked towards Daryl, "Didn't find him." she said simply while looking back and forth between the two of us.

"Glad to see you in one piece." Daryl nodded.

She smiled slightly and continued, "I'm thinking of looking over near Macon...it's worth a shot."

"Seventy miles of walkers, ya might run into a few unneighborly types. Is it?" Daryl asked with squinted eyes.

She didn't respond right away, not knowing for sure if all the things she was putting herself through was truly worth it. It must've been a constant conflict in her mind.

I found myself speaking up again to fill the silence after a moment, knowing she didn't need to decide right now. "We're heading out to check the Big Spot a couple miles from here, the one we were talking about. Just to see." I informed Rick.

"Yeah, I got to go out and check the snares. I don't want to lose whatever we catch to the walkers." he replied.

My eyes glanced back to Michonne who still had her arm wrapped around me, bumping her hip with mine to grab her attention, "Why don't you come with us?" I asked.

She smiled down at me and nodded, "Alright...I'll go."

Carl then spoke up for the first time with a slight frown on his face, "But you just got here." he complained.

"And I'll be back." she assured, letting go of me and making her way back to one of the cars with her bag still crossed over her shoulders.

I made eye contact with the kid and noticed the new comic books clutched tightly in his hands, smirking to myself, "I'll keep an eye out." I spoke quietly to him as I gestured to what was in his arms.

He smiled at me and nodded eagerly before I turned back around to hop on the back of Daryl's bike again. As I adjusted myself on the back, placing my hands around his middle, I looked up to Rick as he gave me a small smile, "Stay safe." he said, receiving a nod from us in return.

Daryl started his bike back up, watching as Rick jogged a little towards the gates to open them up for us. I tried to ignore the snarls of the walkers around us once we made it outside the safety of the prison. It seemed like they've tripled, and the groups only kept getting bigger. Their dead eyes followed us as we quickly drove past them, attempting to reach out for us slowly before we were just out of reach.

I rested my chin on Daryl's shoulder and closed my eyes as the wind hit my face and blew my hair wildly behind me. He took one of his hands and gave my thigh a squeeze before putting it back on the handle, revving his engine a bit as the vehicles behind us stayed close. I smiled at his actions and placed a kiss on his shoulder before closing my eyes again, trying to relax for this longer ride ahead of us.

After driving down the long and windy roads we finally made it to the Big Spot, quickly grabbing the weapons we needed from the back of the truck to check out the oddly quiet place. Each of us stayed silent as we made it up to the large double doors of the place, trying to pinpoint the number of walkers in the area. The parking lot was completely trashed, tents and tarps were set up all around as we silently weaved through them, double checking our surroundings.

Once we got up to the door, Daryl peered into one of the big windows before banging his elbow against it loudly to see how many of them were inside. You could barely see though the glass with how dirty it had become over the months.

"Just give it a second." he said to all of us, leaning his head against the building to try and listen for them as he sat propped up near the glass.

I walked over to the other window just a few feet away and attempted to glance inside, seeing nothing as I moved to put my ear up to it to try and listen for any walkers as well, but I couldn't hear a thing. The building was quite large, knowing that there could be a fair amount inside that we would have to clear out before anything.

I absentmindedly walked back towards where the rest of them were waiting, sitting myself down on the edge of the window. Daryl scooted a bit closer to me the moment I sat down, feeling him giving my leg a light tap as we waited for any kind of noise coming from inside.

Zach then came around the corner, "Okay, I think I got it." he announced.

Michonne tilted her head a bit as she stepped closer as well, "Got what?"

I nodded towards the man, "Zach's been trying to guess what Daryl did before the outbreak."

"He's been tryin to guess for like six weeks." Daryl muttered to me, though Zach still heard him clearly.

"Yeah, I'm pacing myself." he said in defense while taking a seat on the other side of me, "One shot a day."

Daryl nodded over to him, "Alright, shoot."

"Well, the way you are at the prison, you being on the council. You being able to track, you're helping people but you're still being kind of...surly."

I snorted which earned a light nudge from Daryl as Zach continued, "Okay, big swing here...homicide cop." he spoke confidently.

Michonne instantly began to laugh somewhat loudly to herself upon hearing the assumption, and Daryl squinted his eyes at her, "What's so funny?"

"Nothing," she shook her head, "Makes perfect sense."

Daryl then cleared his throat as he nodded, "Actually the man's right; undercover."

My head whipped over in his direction with a shocked expression, using my job as a copout so he could mess with the kid a little bit more. He only gave me a pointed look as if to say play along and I rolled my eyes, but didn't say anything as I let the man have his fun.

"Come on, really?" Zach excitedly said.

"Yep...I mean I don't like ta talk about it cause...it's a lot of heavy shit, ya know?" he said before turning his head to hide the small smirk growing on his face.

"Really?" Zach asked again.

"Mhm, that's where I met this lovely lady right here." he continued on as he wrapped his arm around me, "Went through a lot together, only brought us closer."

I couldn't help but scoff at the amount of bullshit coming out of his mouth, but I still didn't say a thing. Though at this point Daryl's voice was dripping with obvious sarcasm and Zach caught on after a moment and sighed to himself.

"Okay, I'll just keep guessing I guess." he muttered.

"Yeah, you keep doin that." Daryl replied.

I knocked Zach's foot with mine as I got his attention, "Hey, if it makes you feel better, not everything that came out of his mouth was a load of shit." He seemed to perk up at that. "I was actually an undercover cop."

"No shit?" he asked.

"No shit." I confirmed.

That seemed to lift his spirits a little, "What's your most badass story?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but that's when a walker finally made its way towards the window as it clawed at the glass, signaling that it was time to head in. I glanced back and forth between him and the people beginning to make their way towards the entrance.

"Maybe some other time." I suggested and he nodded in return.

I hopped off and headed towards the front door along with everyone else, trailing behind Sasha and Tyreese as they began to go over the things we needed to look out for. "You ready to do this detective?" I asked Daryl, nudging his arm as I passed by.

He scoffed but nodded anyway, "Let's get this done."

We easily took out the walkers that piled up towards the front quickly and quietly, Sasha grabbing a hold of a cart as she voiced the main things to grab on our imaginary list. I followed her actions as I grabbed a shopping cart as well, slowly making my way through the isles to grab the things I needed the most. Some new clothes, flashlights, batteries, I even found some new arrows that were practically brand new, nearly shining in the sunlight with how perfect they were.

Though I seemed to stop in my tracks when I turned around a sharp corner, spotting something that made me visibly freeze. There was a small section in the women's hygiene that were packed full of pregnancy tests. They seemed to be untouched. collecting dust as I stared at them, biting my lip in though while eyed them intently, debating if I should grab a few or not. I mean, mistakes happen every day.

Eventually I just shook my head as I made up my mind, grabbing a couple in my hands and placing them in my jacket pocket. I knew for a fact that there was absolutely no way, but it was nice to have a few on hand just in case I ever got a scare. My fear of the unknown was worse than practically anything else.

Though I suddenly heard some hurried footsteps approaching from right behind me rather quickly. Almost too quickly. The sound causing me to practically throw myself away from the shelf as I whipped around to see who it was.

Glenn stopped dead in his tracks with confusion written all over his face, scanning me before glancing over towards what I was standing right in front of. His eyes got wide as he connected the jots in his head, his mouth falling open as he began to frantically point between me and the wall of tests.

I immediately shook my head and went up to him, "No, no, stop, I'm- I'm not-"

"Then why the hell did you jump out of your skin when I walked around the corner? Does Daryl know? How far along do you think you are?" he asked hurriedly.

I couldn't tell if he was excited, completely panicked, or both. But regardless what he thought was not true in the slightest, causing me to shake my head again, "Glenn honey, I'm not pregnant. I just...I don't know, just figured it was nice to have a few just in case, you know? I swear on my life, I'm not, you don't need to freak out." I finished with a somewhat nervous laugh.

He then sighed in obvious relief, "God Ro, don't do that."

"You're the one jumping to conclusions." I spoke.

He chuckled lightly, "Yeah...yeah, I guess so."

Though I calmed his nerves the smallest bit, I could still clearly see that there was something else bothering him. Something that caused him to freak out the way that he did, similar to how he acted when he found out Lori was pregnant way back on the farm. The thought caused me to stare at him for a moment, knowing something wasn't completely right.

Then, as if reading my mind, he asked quietly, "Can I...have one of those?"

My eyes widened in surprise, "Oh my God, Maggie-"

"I- I don't know, but she's late and uh...we're both kind of freaking out." he admitted, "I was supposed to keep my mouth shut since she didn't want anyone to panic...but when was the last time I ever kept my mouth shut." he finished with a forced laugh.

I nodded silently in understanding, wordlessly handing him one from out of my pockets as he muttered a small "thanks." I didn't know what to say to help ease his mind, I didn't know if there was anything that I could say. But I knew I had to say something.

"Hey, listen...neither of you know what's going to happen. But just know that...everything's going to be okay, and I'm right here for whenever you need me." I finished with a smile.

"But how can you know that? I mean...with what happened to Lori-"

"Don't." I quickly interrupted him, "She didn't have Hershel...and she had to have an emergency c-section. And clearly, I didn't know the first thing about that so... she-"

He shook his head as he realized what he had just said, stopping me from continuing as he placed a hand on my shoulder, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I shouldn't have brought that up, I'm sorry."

I shook my head, "It's okay," I assured, "But please just trust me on this. Everything's going to be fine."

He looked at me for a moment, before nodding with a small smile, "Okay." he whispered.

However, seconds after the words left his mouth, we heard the sound of glass breaking. The sounds that followed were even worse. A loud crash echoed throughout the entire store, followed by a painful and terrified scream. Glenn and I just looked at each other for a brief second before taking off towards the commotion, and I hoped it wasn't as bad as it sounded. But then again, all good things must come to an end.

~ Thanks for reading!

Taglist - @justareader95 @hayley1998 @ryoujoking @sipsthecoffee @winterassassin1804 @marsmallow433 @catlalice @writingstreetspirit

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softlyspector · 2 years

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can you do prompt 11 with jake lockley pls 💗

"did you bring a jacket?" / "no" / "here, take mine." + Jake Lockley

a/n: something about jake that just drives me up a wall i stg.

"Y'know," you poke Jake in the side, "you really didn't have to come with me, Lockley."

"And let you handle this alone, hermosa? Nah." He shrugs his shoulder, reaching up with his free hand to pull his hat down over his eyes. "Someone's gotta do the heavy lifting.”

You roll your eyes, sneaking a glance at Jake from the corner of your eye. "I would manage just fine. I'm not that delicate," you snort, squeezing his bicep where your hand is tucked into his elbow. "They're just pumpkins."

Jake winkles his nose, glancing down at the wet grass you're walking through, yellowed and tramped down from the many feet that walked the path from the car park to the pumpkin patch before you, a layer of rusted brown leaves sticking up in clumps. "Don't I know it. Could have just went to the store."

"And where's the fun in that?" You pinch him gently. "Steven would have come with me you know. If you didn't want to."

Jake frowns at you, his shoulders stiffening just a little as his expression freezes carefully in place. "Oh yeah? I thought you wanted to surprise him."

"I do. Could have surprised him with a pumpkin patch trip," you say, not sure what to make of his reaction.

"Got him wrapped around your finger, huh."

It isn't a question, and the mood between your sours just a bit. There's a bite of something in his voice that you can't quite put your finger on. But it's icy, and it makes your chest contract.

It's always like this with you and Jake, fine one moment, sticky with something unsaid the next. But you're never quite sure what the unsaid thing is.

You decide not to answer, pressing your lips together, feeling once again like you were in Jake's way, like he barely liked you, only tolerated you for the sake of his alters.

The irritation in your belly curdles into melancholy. You don't have the energy to keep up with Jake's moods, but you do knock his hand out of the way when he tries to pay at the wooden entry stand.

He stares at you as you hand over your own money, the person manning the standing handing back your change without comment, eyes flicking between the two of you.

You just smile, take your change and the two baskets you paid for and move along, not waiting to see if Jake will follow you.

He does, but he doesn't speak to you. Jake follows a couple feet behind you, collar of his jacket popped up around his ears, cap pulled low over his eyes so you can see his gaze.

The strained feeling clawing at your chest only grows, until you can't really enjoy the outing at all, until you feel like you can't really breathe. You find yourself walking blindly past rows and rows of pumpkins until you reach the back of the patch and meet the start of the apple orchard.

You stare confusedly at the trees for a moment, the scent of apple and wet leaf spinning through the air.

Pumpkins.

You are here for pumpkins.

But if you turn Jake will be at your back, like a wraith, lurking, waiting to hit you with little bolts of unexpected hurt.

Got him wrapped around your finger, huh.

Yeah, you get it. He doesn't think you're good enough for Steven, but then why come along at all? Why offer to help you?

Pumpkins.

You are here for pumpkins.

You will decorate that damn flat no matter what Jake wants.

You will carve pumpkins with Steven, and probably even Marc if you could convince him, and Jake Lockley's distaste of you, his fickle nature when it came to you will not stop you.

When you turn, Jake is watching you, one brow lifted as he stuffs gloved hands into his jacket pockets. "You passed all the pumpkins," he says.

"I wanted to look at all of them first," you lift your chin.

He smirks at you, "Last I checked pumpkins don't grow on trees." He nods to the apple trees behind you.

"Oh? Silly me," you snark. "Sorry, I know I'm keeping you from better things, even though you offered to come."

You step around him, squishing through the wet, marshy patch again. The damp chill of the day is starting to weigh on you, and you shiver as you march ahead of Jake, actually looking at the pumpkins as you pass them this time, baskets swinging by your side.

You find a couple of little ones that will make nice decorations until you have to turn them into some kind of soup.

Jake rolls out the two big ones you choose without comment and deposits them into the baskets where you sat them on the ground. He stands guard over your stash while you look for a third. When you carry it back and set it carefully in your basket alongside the little ones, you shiver and wrap your arms around you middle.

"Okay," you start, eager to be back in the warmth of the car, eager to go back to the flat and decorate and put as much space between yourself and Jake as you can, "I think we can go-,"

"Three."

You glance away from the pumpkins and up at Jake, furrowing your brow at the expression on his face, confused, focused, wounded. "What?" You ask dumbly.

"Three big ones," he gestures to them like you can't see that there are three pumpkins. "Did you - there's an extra one."

"Extra?" You chirp, glancing down. "No, there are supposed to be three." You point at each one in turn, "Me, Steven, Marc."

"Marc?"

"Yeah," you say, curling your arms around yourself again, clutching at your ribs against the cold. "Marc pretends he hates this kind of stuff but I know he'll pout if I don't get him one to carve."

Jake blinks at you, that hurt expression flickering over his face again. "Yeah," he eventually agrees. "He would." You stand there in the cold as the autumn wind picks up, shivering, not able to piece together why something in your chest is twisting in knots, why Jake looks like you kicked him, like you kicked him on purpose.

"Jake-,"

"Are you cold?"

"What?"

He mutters something under his breath, the fiery lick of Spanish curling off his tongue. "Did you bring a jacket?"

"No," you answer. "It's fine, let's just go-,"

But Jake is already stepping closer to you, shrugging out of his jacket to wrap around you shoulders. It’s a nice weight against you, the smell of the leather infused with something sharp and smoky emanating from the fabric. "You can take mine," he says, adjusting it around you until he's satisfied. "The car is going to be cold now too. Can't let their girl catch cold, I'll never hear the end of it."

And there it is, that sharp little barb again. Like you were a weight and a problem and something nasty on the bottom of his shoe. You step back, out of his grip and yank the coat off your shoulders. "I'm not going anywhere, you know," you snap, holding his jacket back out to him. "So you might as well stop."

Jake doesn’t say anything for a moment, surprise flickering over his face. "I know you aren't goin' anywhere, querida."

You don't ask what that word means, even though you can feel the question fluttering around the back of your throat. "Then can you either...can you make up your mind about me?" He blinks again, like he doesn't know what you're talking about. "I'm not going anywhere, Jake. And you clearly don't think I'm...you don't think I'm good enough for them."

Jake takes the jacket, swings it around your shoulders again, and tugs you close. "Ay, Dios mío, you're as blind and hardheaded as Marc sometimes." You frown and open your mouth when he continues, "I don’t want you to go anywhere. You're more than good enough. And I've already made my mind up about you."

You don't feel like you can’t breathe, a light mist starting to pepper down over you. "Oh. You have?"

"Mhm," he tilts closer to you, hands still fisted in the collar of the jacket. "Long time ago actually."

You cycle back through your memories, casting Jake's comments in another light, another tone. Maybe you misread him. He wasn't irritated, he was jealous and trying to hide it. Lonely, and trying to hide it. Hurt, and trying so desperately to hide it.

"Oh," you say again, unable to look away from his eyes. "I didn't know."

"I know," he says, "It's okay. It's better this way."

His breath ghosts over your lips, warm where the air around you is sharply, stingingly cold. The scent of him like rain and smoke and mint. You step closer to him, tipping your face up into his. "Jake, would you like a pumpkin?" Before he can answer, you continue, a torrent of words spilling out, "We can carve it together and we can decorate together and it can be a little present for Marc and Steven. Together. Me and you."

Jake tips his forehead down against yours. "Yeah," he says, the statement heavier than it should be. "I want my own fuckin' pumpkin, mi vida."

You lock your fingers through his, the soft leather of the glove comforting against your skin. "Okay."

The twitch of a smile lifts his lips, and Jake cups his free hand against the back of your neck before he kisses you.

#jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon knight #moon knight drabble

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scoonsalicious · 4 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 741

Previously On...: Steve made some confessions.

A/N: Finally, resolutions!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You sat there, staring off into space for several moments. You couldn’t believe that had just happened. Was there no end to the number of times a super soldier would betray you?

Bucky cleared his throat after a few silent minutes. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone now, doll,” he said. “‘M sure I’m one of the last people you want to see right now.”

He made to leave, but you called him back. “Buck, no,” you said. He turned around and looked at you quixotically. “Stay. We’re not done.”

He swallowed, then nodded, coming back to sit in the armchair next to your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he said.

“Did you mean what you said,” you asked, looking up at him. “Back in Atlantic City? When you said you were self-sabotaging?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, as if that was the last topic of conversation he expected you to bring up right now. “When, uh… when you broke things off, for good, after Russia, I started seeing Raynor a lot more frequently. Like, two hours a day, every day,” he offered. “I needed to understand why I kept ruining things, especially when you make me so damned happy. It didn’t make sense to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, didn’t make much sense to me, either,” you told him with a smirk, but he didn’t catch it.

“She told me, and I’m paraphrasin’ here, that, despite all the progress I’ve made, I still haven’t forgiven myself for the things I’ve done as the Winter Soldier,” he said, fidgeting with his metal fingers. “And, because I haven’t forgiven myself, I can’t see myself as being worth being loved, being happy. So, I did things, behaved in ways that proved I shouldn’t be. Like a, uh… ‘self-fulfilling prophecy,’ she said.

“She said that I created a loop, a cycle, where I kept makin’ fucked up decisions because I kept expectin’ to fuck up,” he continued. “Like, of course I hurt you, because I was scared of hurting you, if that makes sense? She said Carthage was like a mirror. When I sought validation from her, I was really seeking it from myself. I don’t necessarily know if I buy that,” he chuckled humorously. “Feels like it lets me off the hook too easily, but the doc seems to think it makes sense.”

You nodded, considering his words. “I thought you said she was a shitty quack,” you said after a moment. Bucky looked at you questioningly. “I did.”

“Sounds to me like you owe her a ‘thank you,’” you said, smiling at him. “What did she tell you to do about it?”

Bucky shrugged. “She called me a fucking dumbass, to start. Told me real love isn’t about whether or not you think you’re worthy of someone; it’s about working to be worthy of someone, to keep striving to be the best version of yourself for them. She said I needed to learn how to be honest, with you, and myself, to let you know when I’m struggling, to open up so we can help each other carry our burdens, and not hide mine away because I’m afraid.”

“She sounds a lot smarter than you’ve ever given her credit for,” you teased gently.

Bucky snorted. “Never let her hear you say that,” he said. “I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he said, after a moment of silence. You nodded. “Did you mean what you said, in front of Carthage, that you wished we could start fresh? Build something new? Something better?”

You nodded again. “With my whole heart,” you told him.

Bucky seemed to take a moment to contemplate your words before he stuck out his hand. “‘M Bucky,” he said.

You scoffed playfully. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Bucky’?” you asked with a grin.

“I dunno,” he said with an answering grin of his own. “What the hell kind of name is Pocket?”

You grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him to you, slotting your mouth over his and feeling his smile against your lips. “POCKET!” you heard Tony shout from behind the closed door. “He’s been in there long enough! The people demand to know! What the ‘F’ Is It?”

You and Bucky broke apart from your kiss, foreheads pressed together as you both laughed. Yeah, you thought with a smile, the two of you were going to be okay.

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