#is my anxiety an echo of what my parents have / gave me or would i be jittery always -- would it be in the same way? etc

[risingoftime]

AGAINST ALL ODDS | CORIOLANUS SNOW X PLINTH!READER | CHAPTER THREE

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TW - descriptions of death (Sejanus) & hanging/strangulation, night terrors.

Sejanus' trembling body materialized before you upon the wooden platform amidst the grim presence of the hanging tree. His once robust body now appeared frail and bruised, bearing the unmistakable marks of beatings, and starvation seemed to have drained the vitality from his once vibrant frame. He stood, a testament to the hellish spectacle the Capitolites had subjected him to be. Sejanus struggled to hold back tears; his voice desperately cried your name, yet no sound would escape his arid lips. An invisible force rooted you to the spot, rendering your limbs motionless despite your earnest efforts to break free from this immobilizing grip to reach Sejanus. 

The peacekeepers marched steadily past you, and a chilling lull descended, punctuated by the haunting sight of Sejanus standing at the precipice of his fate. They tightened and adjusted the noose around his vulnerable neck with methodical precision. Fear etched deep into his widened eyes, the anticipation of what awaited him palpable. The weight of the moment bore down upon you, beads of sweat tracing a trail along the nape of your neck as a surge of nausea threatened to release. The harsh finality of the situation washed over your being.

Sejanus resignedly mouthed a sorrowful apology, his wordless cry cutting through the heavy air. And then, an irreversible shift transpired with breathtaking swiftness. The ground beneath him gave way, dissolving into oblivion, the sickening sound of his neck snapping searing into your consciousness, an unshakeable echo of his death.

Your eyes snapped open to see Tigris pinning your arms onto the mattress. Blinking against the dim sunlight, you managed to stammer, "Tigris? Why are you in my room?" your voice came out hoarse.

The worry in her eyes was unmistakable. She loosened her hold on you slowly until she let go of your arms completely, her hands slightly trembling.

"Your screams... I heard them from downstairs," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was bringing your dress in, and I feared...I was scared something terrible had happened to you." She paused, swallowing hard. "Then, I found you... sleeping, but your body thrashing in the sheets as if you were trying to escape something. Are you okay? Has this happened before?"

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her silhouette outlined by the soft glow of the sunlight peering in from your window. It made Tigris's blonde hair look like a halo on her head. However, her gaze didn't waver from you, the anxiety written plainly on her face, promising not to leave until she was sure you were safe. Seeing Tigris in this state made you sad. You didn't mean to let anyone else see you like this. 

"Just a nightmare, that's all. It used to happen every night since-" Cutting yourself off, It was difficult to say his name, not after what you had just seen. "I only get like this when I'm stressed." Tigris still didn't appear convinced by your response. Your nightgown stuck to your skin from the sheen of sweat on your body. You couldn't imagine how horrible you looked and felt in front of Tigris. Suddenly, painfully aware of yourself, you pulled the sheets above you as an act of modesty. 

"Where's Ma?" you asked. 

"She stepped out to run last-minute errands for the event tonight. She called me to help you get ready and, well, you know the rest." You half-expected Tigris to leave, respecting your privacy. But she pressed on. "I used to have dreams like yours when my parents died during the rebellion. It took me a while to cope with their death. I still struggle sometimes. You can talk to me, you know? You're my family too now." 

With a comforting pat on your thigh, Tigris rose from the bed. "I'll give you some space to freshen up. Meet me downstairs whenever you're ready." Her words stayed with you as the bedroom door closed with a faint thud, plunging you back into reality.

Today is your birthday, the day of your wedding shower— another reminder of your upcoming marriage to Coriolanus. The date was impending faster than you had hoped, and there was no sign of it stopping. Young marriages weren't uncommon in Panem post-war, but you had naively hoped for more time before earning the title of someone's wife. More time, much like you had wished for Sejanus. His life was taken from him at eighteen, the same age you were now. That's when it struck you: Sejanus won't see you off to get married, nor would he be there to watch over your kids and be the fun uncle you know he would be. 

You silently wept in bed, overcome by grief. This day was meant to be filled with happiness; it was anything else but that. You felt shame, aggressively wiping away the tears that poured from your eyes like a waterfall. You knew wallowing in bed would solve nothing. Yet, facing the world with red, swollen eyes filled you with dread. It would be an unspoken confession of your struggles, a silent admission of your turmoil. And you couldn’t have that. Ma would need you to keep it together. She’s already lost one of her children. 

Mustering your remaining energy, you got ready and adorned yourself with makeup before descending the stairs to join Tigris. In front of you, an awe-inspiring dark crimson red dress adorned a mannequin. The tulle gown exuded a celestial aura like the night sky had woven into every stitch. Handcrafted with meticulous attention to detail, shimmering pearls embellished the fabric, creating a mesmerizing constellation effect. The dress's form-fitting bodice gracefully accentuated the mannequin's curves before cascading outwards from the waist. Its sheer beauty left you speechless, your mouth agape in disbelief.

Turning to Tigris, you asked, "Did you make this?" Tigris smiled widely and nodded. 

"I hope that you like it. The pearls are handsewn and thoroughly placed to sparkle with your every move." Tigris says. "Come and hurry and put it on! I can't wait to see it on my muse." Tigris didn't show any distress cues from earlier or fawn over your every move. She offered a place of comfort as you stripped down to your undergarments and stepped into the gown. It fit like a glove, which was impressive, considering Tigris hadn't taken your measurements. Her eye for detail is astounding. The corset of the dress pushed your breasts up, giving the impression that you had more cleavage and a smaller waist.  As you gazed at your reflection, a gasp escaped your lips in awe of the masterpiece Tigris had created. "If I were to die in this dress, I would die a happy woman," you whispered. The sight of you was truly intoxicating, and in this dress, you felt a sense of confidence and accomplishment immersed around you. The person who stood before the mirror embodied a timeless beauty. You could envision yourself as someone suitable to be seen on the arm of Coriolanus Snow, the young man rumoured to be the next ruler of the Capitol. Without another thought, you brought Tigris into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She held you closer with her warm embrace. An excited shriek pulled you apart to find Ma with Coriolanus. 

"Oh gosh! My beautiful baby girl is all grown up."

Coriolanus exhaled in surprise at your appearance. His eyes trailed from your face down to the heels that you wore. It was one of the rare times that Coriolanus was genuinely speechless. Tigris cleared her throat, “So… what do you think?” Coriolanus finally pulled himself out of his entrapped daze and faked a cough to hide his lust-filled expression. But it was too late. You have already seen it.

"You look beautiful." Coriolanus wore a suit in a similar shade to your dress. Tigris must've tailored his outfit to cater to yours. “Tigris, You've outdone yourself,” he said.  From the outside eye, you were well suited for each other and made a good-looking couple. It would be easy to fall into the fantasy you have been presented with. Yet it didn’t change that it was all a fallacy; Coriolanus had only agreed to marry you for the money. It was damn easy to forget all of this when Coriolanus flashed you his dazzling smile and wrapped his arm around yours to escort you out of the penthouse to your wedding shower and birthday party.

Coriolanus whispered to your ear, “And before I forget, Happy Birthday.”

𓇢𓆸

The event was hosted in an extravagant lounge. There were rows and rows of velvet red sectionals and opulent jade banquettes. The lighting around the room was soft and illuminated the lush plants and countless influential figures of Panem that filled the space. Your name and Coriolanus’s were etched on a banner for all guests to view. Your parents had invited almost everyone that you’ve known. The Dolittle family socialized with Dr. Volumnia Gaul over a glass of champagne. While Eris Dankworth and her family kept to themselves, overseeing and judging the festivities that took place. Some of the University and Academy professors were in attendance as well. President Ravinstill could be seen at the far corner, seated at a private table with his wife. He was the man who'd granted our departure from the Districts when your father sided with the President by providing munitions to the Capitol. The President wore his prewar military uniform like a badge of honour. The gall of it all made you feel unsettled. 

You observed Coriolanus closely, gripped by his ability to captivate everyone around him with his calm demeanour and impeccable manners. Whenever he engaged in conversation, his eyes would light up as if each person he spoke to had just said the wittiest remark he had ever heard. It was awe-inspiring to witness. A part of you was taken aback. This side of him was rarely revealed in your presence. The Coriolanus you grew to know had disappeared. This one was fun-loving and easygoing. It was a version of him that made you reconsider if he was all bad, like you initially thought. 

"Must I say Coriolanus, you've snagged yourself quite the catch? Miss Plinth appears to be Sejanus's better half." Dr. Volumnia Gaul smiled much too widely after her comment. She had a sneaky habit of appearing when she was least anticipated. It made whatever she had to say sound ingenuine and cunning. Your spine stiffened at the mention of Sejanus from his former professor. Coriolanus rubbed small circles on your lower back, a meek attempt to distract you. He returned Dr. Gaul's smile. Before you could devise your retort, Coriolanus replied, "Thank you, it'll be an honour to call her my wife." He looked upon you with a glint in his eye, something that you hadn't noticed before, admiration or possession? It was hard to decipher. His gaze travelled down to your exposed breasts, and the desire on Coriolanus's face made you feel feverish. Undeniably, a new side of Coriolanus was in front of you. 

"Fate is a funny thing, isn't it Coriolanus? The Plinth family lost a son, to soon gain another." She smirked as if she knew something you didn't, "I'm curious to see how this union will be fair in the future. Best wishes to the both of you." And with that, she departed to refill her glass of champagne. Coriolanus kept his hand around your waist. His hold on you was unshakeable, and his face turned straight. 

"Are you alright? What was that all about?" You asked. 

"Nothing, Dr. Gaul is quite peculiar in how she expresses herself." His glare didn't wander from her figure as she walked through the crowd of guests. 

"So I've heard, Sejanus would talk about her briefly after class and in his letters." 

"Letters?" Coriolanus faced you incredulously. The thought of Sejanus sending his younger sister letters during his time in District 12 hadn't crossed his mind. 

Suddenly, the lights were cut, and the crowd gasped in shock. In the distance, you could see Ma and your father holding a cake with eighteen lit candles making their way to the booth you sat at. Everyone erupted in song, singing You Happy Birthday and began to gather around. 

"Make a wish, Honey," Ma said. Your father flagged down the hired photographers with box-like cameras that appeared chunky and heavy to the eye. Flashing lights surrounded you as they fired shots at your every move until the last candle was blown out. You could see Romulus standing beside his brother with a big grin. The similarities were uncanny. He shook a blue velour box and mouthed, "I got you a present." Eris Dankworth stood not too far behind them and watched the moment unravel. 

“How about a kiss from the soon-to-be newlyweds?” Eris yelled out with a sickening sneer on her lips. She couldn’t help herself. “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” she began the chant amongst the guests. Anyone would think she did it all in good faith and fun. But you knew. It was a reminder of the conversation that took place in front of the Academy. 

With all eyes on you, there was little option but to comply. It would be odd not to. 

“Well, Mr. Snow,” you shyly peeked up through your wispy lashes, and Coriolanus stood tall, towering over you with his height. "Let's give them a run for their money." He softly nestled your face in his hands, his touch both consoling and electrifying. You sensed a slight tremor in his hands from anticipation. As his plush lips met yours, the kiss began tentatively, as if you were exploring unknown territory. Coriolanus pulled you in closer, pressing your bodies together until there was no space between you. Not knowing where to place your arms, you instinctively wrapped them around his neck, cultivating deeper access and connection. An unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body, igniting a desire you hadn't experienced before. Nerves fluttered in your stomach. This was your first kiss. Your first kiss is with Coriolanus Snow, and damn was it a good kiss. It was unclear who moved away first, but looking at your Ma, you could see her with clutched pearls. 

Coriolanus chuckled silently beside you, "Wow, I didn't think you had it in you, Miss Plinth. You're just full of surprises." Your elbow connected with his ribs, although this didn't stop him from laughing. Amid your embarrassment that your parents had seen you practically make out with your fiancee, you excused yourself to go to the powder room. If you found Eris alone, you would surely give her a piece of your mind. You were navigating through the crowd with mindless “thank you’s,” and the half-assed hugs were beginning to get on your last nerve. You just needed a quiet moment to yourself. Someone followed behind and caught your hand as you freed yourself through the exit doors to the restrooms. 

“Hey, I’ve been trying to get you alone all evening. It's like chasing a rabbit in a hay field,” Romulus said, slightly panting like he’d just run a marathon. He appeared strikingly handsome in his tailored midnight blue suit, a perfect complement to his dark hair and captivating features.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s unbefitting of a lady to be seen alone with a man who isn’t to be her husband, especially with the wedding date around the corner,” you said.

“Oh, please don’t tell me you’re letting Dankworth get to you,” Romulus wrinkled his nose when he uttered her name as if he smelled something horrid. “Besides, I like you better when you're defiant. It keeps things interesting in this dull place.”  

You rolled your eyes at his statement. Of course, he did. That was before. When you could afford to do whatever you pleased and live your day as your own. "What do you want, Rome?" you asked. He didn't track you down to chat. 

"Geez, did that kiss get your panties in a twist too?" Romulus snickered. You shoved him and snorted at his mortifying question. Romulus always knew how to make you laugh. 

"Oh God, please shut up! What was I supposed to do?" 

"I don't know, give the guy a peck, maybe?" Romulus's smile widened at your reaction, and he rummaged through his pocket to pull out the blue velour jewelry box from earlier. "Besides, if you didn't run out of there so quickly, I wouldn't be able to give this to you." He placed the present in your hands gently, like a delicate flower. 

"Rome, you didn't have to get me a gift-" 

"I know, but I wanted to. Open it." He nodded towards the box, motioning you to untie the bow that was wrapped around it. 

Inside held a beautiful gold locket necklace that looked like it had cost a fortune. Intricate swirl patterns were engraved into the locket, with hearts nestled beside each other. When you opened it, your favourite picture of you and Sejanus was inside. Romulus had taken the photo of the two of you that day in the sun. You wore a childlike grin in the photograph while Sejanus slung his arm over your shoulder, sporting a crooked smile. His pure essence is captured eternally, frozen in time just for you. This was the Sejanus that you remembered. Your eyes welled up with tears, and your throat became tight, making expressing your overwhelming gratitude to Romulus nearly impossible.

Romulus knew this and seemed prepared. He offered you his handkerchief. "Would you like me to help you put it on?" he asked. You nodded, as words still escaped you while you dabbed the corner of your eyes, careful not to smudge your makeup. Romulus lifted the necklace, and it glinted in the light. Turning your back, he clasped the locket around your neck, which lay flat between your collarbones. A piece of Sejanus will always be near. 

"I think this is one of the best gifts I've ever received." you sniffled. 

"Even better than the horse your father bought you as a kid?" Of course, Romulus would try to crack a joke. 

"Even better." You took Romulus into your arms, holding him close and snugly, "thank you, Rome."

"Romulus, we need to stop meeting like this!" Coriolanus exclaimed with no humour behind the mirth in his voice. Peering over Romulus's shoulder, you could see him close the doors to the lounge behind him.

"Meeting like what?" Romulus asked. 

"With you, all over my fiancee." Coriolanus scowled at Romulus, tracking his every move with his glare. 

"He wasn't-" 

"I wasn't all over her, Coriolanus, don't be dramatic. I was merely giving her a birthday gift, and I didn't know that was a crime." Romulus raised both his hands in mockery as if he would be arrested. Your heartbeat began to pick up in pace. Little did Romulus know the severity of consequences that might lay ahead of him for taunting Coriolanus, even more so now that Coriolanus had seen Romulus holding you in his arms not too long after kissing him.

Coriolanus hid his malicious intent almost too well, "I know a couple of people who would beg to differ." There was a hidden meaning behind his choice of words. "I simply just came out to let my fiancee know that her parents are looking for her to make a toast before the guests begin to leave." Coriolanus turned to face you, making direct contact with the heart-shaped locket that embellished your chest. It made you feel naked under his scrutiny. 

"Yes, I'll be right there to join you soon. I want to say goodbye to Romulus. He was just leaving." 

Romulus caught on quickly about what you were hinting at and agreed, "Yes, I was. The only reason I came was to drop off her gift." He gestured towards the box in your hands and smirked. 

"Safe travels," Coriolanus muttered under his breath and turned to enter the lounge, but not before calling over his shoulder, "Please be quick. I'd hate to keep your parents waiting." 

When Coriolanus was out of sight, you hit Romulus upside his head. "Idiot! Why do you keep trying to get a rise out of him?" Romulus knew better. Coriolanus was not the type to engage in direct conflict. He would skillfully maneuver himself like a serpent, slithering to strike his opponents from behind when they least expect it. 

"You can't possibly believe that he'll make good on his threat." As suspected, Romulus didn't take it seriously when you told him about what Coriolanus said to you if he were to touch you. It would help if you had been wiser and not caught up in the moment. Getting caught up with Rome was a stupid mistake. 

"I don't know. But I'd rather not find out now. All I can do is hope that Coriolanus was bluffing." 

“The idea of you marrying him doesn't sit right with me. What do you even like about Coriolanus anyways?” Romulus sounded frustrated and perplexed, his hazel eyes filled with concern. 

Like was a strong word. You tolerated Coriolanus when needed. Still, the only things that you observed of him were from afar and through your brother until now.  

Sejanus was quite the optimist when he was ready. Coriolanus had always shown indifference towards us, the Plinths. He did not agree with my classmates' taunting but did not wholly disagree. Remaining neutral meant nothing to you, especially if said boy was Sejanus’s friend. What type of friend was he? An opportunist? Yes, for sure. But Coriolanus did not show much proof of friendship other than the tattered photograph he kept of them during the games and the letters Sejanus had written about Coriolanus to you. If you hadn't known any better, you would've called it a naive school crush that Sejanus had. Pa always chose to pay no heed to what displeased him, and Sejanus publicly grieving his childhood first love, Marcus, was undoubtedly one of them. 

Yet, you couldn't deny the chemistry you shared during the kiss. There was the possibility of growing to be fond of Coriolanus. This was likely at a different rate than your relationship was going. 

"I don't have to like Coriolanus," you sighed. 

"Well, you at least have to if you're going to spend the rest of your life with him," Romulus argued. 

"Rome, please, I don’t want to talk about this, not on my birthday." Your head began to pound from the onset of stress that returned to your body. One night, that's all you wanted. Romulus could see the tension rise within you and apologized. 

“I’m sorry; I didn't intend to damper the mood. Enjoy the rest of your night, and we’ll talk tomorrow.” Romulus surprised you by planting a small kiss on your forehead and departing shortly after. To see him leave so soon left a pit in your stomach. It was an unpleasant feeling. The more pressing concern was still present: would Romulus survive the wrath of Coriolanus?

𓇢𓆸

That question kept you up at night. The rest of the party was a success, although Coriolanus was in quite a sour mood for the rest of the event until we were escorted home. He'd returned to his usual self, only uttering a sentence in your direction if needed. After finding you in Romulus's arms, you partially expected him to be more brash towards you. It unsettled you when he was silent. 

Ringing from your landline telephone alarmed you. The only person likely to call you this late would be Romulus. There had to be something wrong. 

"Hello?" 

"You're awake." The voice sounded surprised that you had answered the phone.

"Coriolanus, why are you calling so late?" 

"Come let me in. I'm coming to your door." His words lightly slurred together.

"Corio-" you raised your voice in protest, but the line dropped. The flippant guy hung up on you. 

You rushed down the stairs in your silk robe as quietly as possible until you heard knocking at your front door. When you opened the door, revealing a dishevelled Coriolanus, his blazer was discarded and still in the dress shirt he wore to the wedding shower with a few extra buttons loose. "Shut up, will you! You're going to wake up my parents. Hurry and come in." He stumbled past you to sprawl out on the couch, faintly smelling of white liquor. Thank God the Avoxes weren't live-in help. 

"Have you been drinking?" you asked. 

Coriolanus pinched his thumb and pointer finger close together in response to your question. 

"Be honest, would marrying me be that bad?" Coriolanus's tone was soft and gentle. He looked tense and a bit unsure of himself. Even in this state, he looked handsome; it bothered you that Coriolanus didn't even seem aware of it. 

"I don't know," you answered honestly. "I can't imagine sharing a life with someone I don't love, regardless of their last name. I always thought I would fall in love with someone like Ma and my father. They grew up on the same street and started dating in their early teens. And I would raise a family and grow old enough to tell my grandkids stories of how I had loved and lost and met my greatest love of all, their grandfather." It was a small dream that wouldn't come true in this lifetime. 

"I can love you," Coriolanus retorted.

"You're drunk." You sat in front of him on the carpet. 

"So? I know I can love you better than Romulus. That guy couldn't wait to get his dirty little hands on you, and of all things, he got you a locket in the shape of a heart on the day of our wedding shower. I should strangle him with my bare hands, and I would do it again to any man who dares to lay a finger on you and what's mine." Coriolanus stumbled through his sentences, and if it weren’t for the last comment, you would've thought it was cute.

"Not this again. Are you jealous of Romulus? He's a friend, and it was a thoughtful gift, hardly romantic." 

"He's one of your only friends, and he makes you smile. You don't even laugh when you're around me. I should be the one that you want to lean on. I'm the one who will be your husband, not him." Coriolanus ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

"You sound like a child. I'll get you a glass of water," getting up from the floor to walk to the kitchen, Coriolanus took your hand in his to stop you. 

"Wait, don't leave. Let me prove it to you: I want to take you on a date." 

That earned laughter from you; it burst out of you and was hard to contain. “That’s hilarious coming from you, Snow.” But Coriolanus didn’t laugh, and his face became sober.  

Coriolanus expressed his sincerest intentions, “I’m serious. It’s still your birthday weekend. I’ll take you out to properly celebrate. I know tonight wasn’t ideal.”

You raised your eyebrows, still skeptical of him, questioning, “Why? So you could handle your vendetta?”

Unfazed by your disbelief, Coriolanus grinned, "No, it would be for you." His words lingered in the air. You were baffled and intrigued.

The room was momentarily silent, giving you time to process his response. You couldn't help but wonder what he meant by it. Was there a deeper meaning behind his words? Although you searched for clarity, you were eager for Coriolanus to continue, hoping his inebriated self would go into more detail. Yet, his face turned paler than usual, and his blue eyes met yours with focus. 

“I’ll take that glass of water now. I think I might be sick.”

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[cultofdixon]

At least there’s no bears

Daryl Dixon • They/Them Pronouns • Usually Daryl can see where the traps lay…but then you got caught • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injuries / Blood Loss / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

Daryl slowly sat up in his bed knowing he has the hunt today and that his partner will be joining him. Which meant he had to get ready and then drag their ass out of bed so they could get ready.

Once they both were ready, Y/N stretched their back out waiting for the archer who was currently informing the early bird Rick on their whereabouts for the morning.

“Hey, eat” Daryl startles them out of their thoughts as they tiredly take the protein bar handed to them and started to dig in while they walk to the gates.

It was a cold and nice morning for the two to go on foot for the entirety of the hunt. Even if Y/N does miss his bike to at least go a bit further out.

“You still waking up?”

“Meh.” They shrug adjusting the rifle on their back as they held onto the strap while looking around. “Why do we have to hunt early? Like. It’s what 5AM?”

“Have a watch to confirm that?” Daryl laughs a bit only to be hit with a pebble in the back of the head. As he quickly whips back, Y/N pretended like nothing happened only for him to playfully glare. “I’d be careful of any left behind traps. Don’t think there’s anything as serious as a bear trap but better to be aware”

“Why do people hunt bears? Some of them may be stupid, then others just want to steal your picnic baskets”

Daryl stopped once more only for Y/N to run right into him from not paying attention. He gave them a confused look.

“For someone who had a brother with only a few working brain cells. He didn’t watch cartoons? YOU didn’t watch cartoons?”

“Yogi bear”

“SEE YOU DID”

“Merle only watched cartoons or fights”

“Sounds very Merle coded” Y/N laughs a bit as they branched off a bit into a different direction to check out a bush with fruit on it.

The archer kept an eye on them for the most part, not like they would need the extra set of eyes since their first response in danger is to fight or find the closest hiding spot. They were also one of those adventure types from the old world and would almost always be outside so he knew that they knew about certain signs of danger and especially what’s poisonous or not.

“Those berries good?”

“Nah. But it could be good bait for small critters that can have it” Y/N plucked a handful as the two quickly turned to the sudden scurry that was too quick for a walker and Daryl went to follow.

When the tracks came up empty, Daryl was hit in the head again and turned to Y/N who had just caught up to him.

“What?”

“Did yea hit me with a berry?”

“No but thanks for the idea” Y/N laughs kneeling down to grab the acorn that fell, also grabbing the few acorn caps off the ground. “You ever wear these on your finger tips? As a kid?”

“And pretend your fingers were friends or some shit”

“That’s incredibly sad. If only I lived near the forest in Georgia then we would’ve been friends. Always find me in the trees”

“City kid?”

“Yeah but my sister always took me to the park to get outside and yknow, also not to hear bickering soon-to-be divorced parents” They laugh a bit as they took one of Daryl’s hands to put an acorn cap on one of his fingers before finding another bush in their peripheral to go investigate.

Daryl looks at the little acorn cap they put on his finger and thought it was cute of them, but before a smile could even grace his features. Fear shot right through him.

“son of a—-FUCK!” Y/N yells as their voice echoed through the forest followed by the thud of their body hitting the ground. They looked down to find the bear trap latched onto their left ankle. “Fuck fuck FUCK” they were too afraid to move and once Daryl finally came over.

The color in his face drained as he knelt down to assess what happened.

“You should’ve watched where you were going”

“Seriously?!” Y/N snaps at him for stating an annoying yet obvious response. Only for the sudden jerk to worsen the pain as they couldn’t look at their blood drain from their body or they might pass out. “Oh god”

“Jesus fuckin’ christ—-We gotta get this shit off yea without taking the foot”

“Oh”

“Oh?!” Daryl stops messing with it to lock eyes with Y/N a moment as neither exchanged a word. “What the fuck is happening right now?! Did I hurt yea further or—-“

“SOMEONE HAS TO BE THE CALM ONE”

“DEFINITELY DOESNT GOTTE BE YOU”

“SHUT YOUR MOUTH BEFORE THE WALKERS HEAR YOUR YELLING” Y/N snaps only for Daryl to cover their mouth waiting for the snap of twigs he heard to just be a critter and not what they had said a few seconds ago.

“I wish yea didn’t adapt your feelings to the situation when you’re the goddamn one that’s injured.”

“Freaking out to my full potential will only make me sob and the pain a whole lot worse” Y/N squeezed their eyes shut to fight back the tears as it was starting to get way worse. They carefully took their belt off even if it meant shifting, a wince, and Daryl flinching to the pain response. “Tourniquet”

“Smart. Very smart” Daryl takes the belt from them and got started applying such above their ankle before assessing what he should do next.

A lot of blood.

A lot of fucking blood.

It’s a 2hr window before they might lose it even with a tourniquet.

Y/N watches as Daryl thinks too loud in front of them. They were worrying about him even if they are the one bleeding less now. They clear their throat to get his attention as his expression instantly went to stress and worry thinking something worse was happening.

“Take the bear trap off, wrap the wound in your bandana, then carry me home so Denise can patch me up” their voice was shaky after silently crying a bit to themselves. Daryl did exactly what they said, a bit confused why they were so clear minded about it.

Next thing they knew, Daryl was carrying Y/N on his back all the way back to Alexandria.

“This shouldn’t have happened…”

“D, come on…”

“I knew this area had fuckin’ traps last time I was out. Should’ve taken them out before dragging you out here”

“You didn’t drag me out here” Y/N frowns. “And you would’ve gotten yourself caught in a bear trap. It just happens by accident”

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“I wanted to. You asked and I said yes…even if you didn’t I would’ve come out to find you if you’re didn’t leave a note like you usually do” They rest their head on his shoulder trying not to let the blood loss beat them with the exhaustion. “Shits unpredictable sometimes…”

“You’re too optimistic sometimes” Daryl sighs, listening to them hum in agreement as he felt their body shift against him. Making his anxiety pick up the pace to get to Alexandria.

It’s been a few hours and Y/N woke up exhausted but at least patched up and in the infirmary. They noticed they were alone but at least there was crutches to help them get around.

As they managed to get up and out of the building, Daryl was starting to head back to them carrying something when he noticed them on the crutches.

“You’re supposed to stay in the fuckin’ bed”

“Don’t tell me what to do” Y/N scoffs. “I wanna be in my bed. With you. Thank you very much” they were about to move past him when Daryl took their crutches leaving them still in a flamingo pose. “Daryl. Don’t be a dick”

“Let me set shit down inside and I’m carrying yea to bed. And ain’t taking no for an answer”

“Then can you hurry up? You or Denise or whoever took my jacket and I’m cold” Y/N frowns waiting for Daryl, watching him go inside the house leaving them out there longer than they had wanted.

But Daryl came back out in a little bit of a sprint with one of his sweaters, helping them get it on before picking them up bridal style and going toward the house.

“You gonna be nurse back to health?”

“Ain’t leavin’ yea that’s for sure”

“You’re sweet”

“You’d fall down the stairs if I left yea alone”

“I think I’m gonna take back calling you sweet” Y/N laughs resting their head on his shoulder as he pushes every door he had to open with his foot. Eventually getting to their room and setting them on the bed.

The archer carefully propped up their ankle using his pillow and covered them with his blanket. Y/N got comfortable watching Daryl move around the room moving a few things but then he left to grab something.

When he came back a moment later, Y/N had fallen asleep given their body was still wiped out and the drugs Denise gave them still floated around. Daryl set the glass of water on their nightstand along with fresh bandages for when they wake up so he could put new ones on. In the mean time, he moved to his side of the bed taking his boots off before bringing his whole self beside them.

Y/N opened their eyes a sec to see him beside them as they carefully moved their self close enough to bring their head on his shoulder. Daryl rests his head on top of theirs taking the time to finally relax.

“At least there wasn’t any bears”

“Shut up and go to sleep”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

[kirbyskisses]

miguel o’hara x reader || “te amo”

chapter 4: “confía en mí” (masterlist)

A/N: so i’m back!!! a lot of you know I delayed this chapter because i had a new job, a family tragedy and rewrote the plot outline from scratch but it’s here! no warnings needed this time, just enjoy everyone’s favorite lying-ass spiderman! and reminder this fic now has a playlist!

(minors/ageless/blank blogs, do not interact!!! if there is no age indicator in your bio and you reblog or comment YOU WILL BE BLOCKED ON SIGHT)

“it wasn’t a cop.”

unable to look you in the eye, miguel’s gaze drifts to stare at his clawed hands. were he calmer he’d be able to retract the sharp, deadly tips but having just experienced waves of panic and anxiety he lets them stick out. his eyes still have a tinge of red as they do at any time of agitation.

his tongue slides gently across his fangs. they too are physical signs that he’s something more than human although right now, trying to format his next words into an acceptable lie, he feels far less human - he feels monstrous and out of his own body.

just a few minutes ago (although to his anxiety-ridden brain it feels like hours have passed) the energy in your shared bedroom was sexually-charged as you noted and admired the bulk your husband had recently acquired. however, the energy was not reciprocated.

brain tumbling through thoughts of being an imposter, miguel looked at you not in arousal or want but in fear, a panic attack taking hold of his body.

he’d thought you’d be mad or sad or even scared of how he jerked away from your advances and your admittedly beautiful body. but instead, despite your obvious worry, your eyes softened. you called his name a few times, gave him space and time and water, and only after it was clear that your husband could think and talk somewhat clearly you started listening.

his mind is still a bit blurry but miguel remembers the concerns you were voicing to him before either of you two had truly realized the full extent of his growing anxiety.

your soft voice still echoes in his ears.

“¿qué te ocurre?” what’s going on with you?

“te ves enfermo, estás actuando extraño y no me estás hablando.” you look unwell, you’re acting strange and you’re not talking to me.

“miguel. have i done something wrong?”

you were right to be concerned, he can’t deny you that. of course, the miguel of this universe would marry a woman smart enough to notice subtle differences. in his short time here, he had learned how you balanced marriage and parenting with full knowledge that your husband - the one you believe is sitting in front of you - was spider-man.

you’re not stupid. he sees in the subtle flicker in your eyes that you know something is amiss.

“mi vida…” his life. you’re his life now, you and gabriela. he cannot bring himself to let you go completely.

it’s time to course-correct, miguel decides.

“it wasn’t a cop…” he starts.

“pardon?” you respond, taking slow, tentative steps towards the bed where he’s sat - hesitant to intrude his space for fear of triggering him again until he pats the spot next to him, allowing your gentle form to sit beside him.

“that night, when there was an emergency with the vulture and i came home with blood on my suit…”

the night he arrived here. the night he decided to be the husband and father that this world needed.

“i told you there was someone i couldn’t save.” you nod, remembering well how shaken he seemed that night. his hands finally stop shaking, claws retracting to run his fingers through his hair and then land on yours.

“but i wasn’t completely honest with you. i let you think it was a cop. but it was…” his deep voice shakes - how to lie perfectly? how to let you know without breaking everything? his tired, wide eyes turn to you finally.

“it was a… friend. someone who helped me become spider-man here. i guess you could say our lives were pretty close. i didn’t want to worry you by telling you but i haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. about him. that’s why i haven’t been myself lately.”

there it is. another half truth that you believe, wholeheartedly, only reacting with a soft sigh and letting your face rest on his broad shoulder, hand over his.

“ay, miguelito. i’m so sorry. did i…know him?”

a sharp breath enters miguel’s nose and exits from his mouth just as quickly.

���maybe once. but… i don’t want you to grieve - mi amor?” the sound of sniffling and shaky breaths cuts him off and miguel's hairs stand on end. he had expected your sympathy but not for tears to start streaming down your pretty face. his hands hurriedly cup your cheeks.

“¿cariño?” he asks, desperate to know how he’s offended you to incur such a reaction. you just shake your head gently in his palms.

“i just… hate that i didn’t realize how much pain you’ve been in - that i was trying to just act normally. and that i didn’t make it clear you could tell me something like that. lo siento, papí.”

as terrible as it sounds miguel thinks he falls in love with you even more right then - what a beautiful, sympathetic heart.

with a flurry of repeated “no's" and a barrage of kisses to your face, miguel pulls your shorter form onto him.

“no te disculpes, me entiendes? i’m the one who fucked up. i… have hated myself for days for lying to you. i was thinking about it so much - that’s why when you got so close, i freaked out. can i ask… ¿todavía confías en mí?”

do you still trust him? your lips slot against his and as his eyes settle back to their usual brown, he catches you giving a smile through your tears as if it’s the silliest question in the world.

“confío en ti, mi amor. con toda mi alma y mi corazón.”

maybe his mind is warped but that confirmation of trust is all is all miguel needs. his huge figure, muscular but relaxed with a sense of joy and relief running through his veins for the first time in who knows how long, pulls you into his lap as if you weigh nothing.

your tinier frame pulled against his chest, you feel the vibration of a low growl escaping him. his sharp nose buries itself in your hair as his arms tighten their grasp.

“estarás cansado, araña.” you mumble and something deep inside him shakes. the exhaustion of keeping up a lie for so long, the ensuing wave of relief upon now being able to let it go, and the emotional strain of watching you empathize and cry for him after his state of panic - as much as his body wants to have you, he’s beyond tired.

miguel o’hara wants to give himself to you. to have you until the way you feel and touch and smell and look and sound - until it’s all burned into his mind, memorized by his skin. but for now, his body wants to sleep.

he responds in a mangled mix of spanish and english, muffled from your hair and from his small tendency to mumble in order to avoid cutting his tongue on his sharp fangs. you find it adorable.

he crashes the two of you down against the bed and lowly slurs, “promise you’re not mad?” as if he was a child and not an ever-combat-ready, six-foot-nine, partially arachnid vigilante.

you stroke his unruly brown hair back into place and kiss his forehead.

“for lying? why, trying to see if i’ve been a mom long enough to take you down con una chancla?” you joke and the side of his lip curls up. “i could… but i more just want you to rest and let yourself relax. you’ve had it hard lately and i’ll be here to wait until you’re a little bit more well-adjusted. then, un pao-pao con la chancleta.”

miguel lets out a low chuckle against the pillow when you mockingly hit his temple before kissing it, falling asleep when you continue to kiss down his face with all affection.

“rest, papí. you’re home.”

-

next chapter will be completely smut btw!

taglist: @corpsebasil @letharue @shyhairdocoloralmond @d4rno @scaraza @ooaassiiss @bizarrette @cruelmissdior @typicalife-101 @turtle-ishtendencies @saint-chlorine @fallinallinmendes @syarblu @leahnicole1219 @loser-alert @wh0reforbucknasty @aceshoochiemama @mindblankmisery @tb-bunnii @miguelswifey04 @moonchildpc @kuinnoa @cowpoopies @louderfortheback

#miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x black reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman across the spiderverse #atsv #miguel x y/n #x latina!reader #x latina reader #spiderman #spiderman x reader #spiderman 2099

[nhlclover]

new years eve sparks fly au

✭ — summary: luca finally finds out the reason behind sofia's off-behaviour

✭ — warnings: angst, sof crying, luca being a good brother, mentions of anxiety, cliffhanger kind of?,

✭ — a/n: finallyyyyy writing for this! again thank you guys for your continued support love y'all

✭ — word count: 1.13k

Christmas had come and gone, presents had been exchanged, and Adam had returned to Columbus. The winter break was ticking down and Sofia and Luca would return to Michigan in five days.

But Michigan was the last place Sofia wanted to be right now. The thought of going back to Michigan where Rutger was sent a wave of anxiety through her. It was impossible for Sofia not to face him. Sofia couldn’t not go to games, Luca would hate that.

It was now New Year's Eve, one of Sofia’s favourite holidays. She loved the prospect of a fresh start, as well as the brief few days of having a resolution. The reset brought a sense of calm to her life. However, Sofia was anything but excited and her parents could tell.

Julia eyed her daughter as she sat curled up on the corner chair, downing her third glass of wine. To her mother, there was only one thing that could be bothering Sofia.

“Luca, go talk to your sister,” Julia tells her son.

“Why?” Luca asks.

“I think she’s missing Adam a little bit,” she explains. “Just go see if you can cheer her up a little.”

Luca glances at his sister sitting on the chair, watching her scroll through her phone, a perma-scowl on her lips. Luca knew Sofia and Adam were fairly close but not so much that she would be this upset over him going back to Columbus. Luca figured that it must have something to do with whatever was bothering her pre-Christmas. Whatever had spurred the manic baking must still be on her mind.

“Sof.” he calls to his sister, causing her to look up from her phone. “Come get some air with me.”

Sofia furrows her eyebrows at her brother's weird request but follows him out to the back deck at his insistent nodding. Sofia leans against the railing, the winter chill biting at her cheeks.

“What’s up with you?” Luca asks.

Just at his words, Sofia can already feel her emotions bubbling to the surface. She’d been trying to keep the thought of Rutger out of her mind throughout the past few weeks but it was futile. He’d worm his way into her thoughts and then she’d be reminded of what can only be described as the single worst way to be rejected.

“I mean…Sofia come on.” Rutger says. “You’re Adam and Luca’s sister.”

Sofia furrows her brows. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well, it would be weird if I dated their sister. I mean I’m best friends with them, they’re practically my brothers.”

“What, it feels like I’m a sister to you?” Sofia asked.

“I guess so,” Rutger says.

Not only did Sofia get rejected, she got put in the sister zone. And whenever she was reminded of that, she felt like Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind-ing herself. Completely erasing Rutger’s existence from her mind.

“What do you mean?” Sofia asks, playing dumb. Maybe she could work her way out of this. She would normally tell Luca everything. He was her big brother, he was the one who gave her good advice when she needed it. But she didn't know if this was something she could confide in Luca about.

“No, no,” Luca said, shaking his head. “Don’t be coy with me. Be straight up, tell me what’s bugging you. You know, you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you.”

Sofia finally turns to look at Luca, his eyes laced with genuine concern. Tears begin to prick at her waterline.

“It’s Rutger,” she says.

"Rutger?" Luca echoed, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. "What about him?"

Sofia opens her mouth but hesitates momentarily.

“I love him.”

The words form before Sofia realizes it. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gages Luca’s reaction. He’s silently staring at her, brows furrowed and jaw slightly agape. Luca’s thoughts are going a million miles a minute, trying to process exactly what his sister said.

After a couple of moments of silence, Sofia speaks up. “Luca, please say something.”

“How long?” is all Luca says.

Sofia sighs, trying to recall the moment when she knew she had feelings for Rutger. Memories of them meeting, all of their study sessions, and the times they simply just hung out flow through her mind.

And, like a dam bursting, Sofia spills her feelings to her brother. Her heartache laid bare as she recounted her feelings for Rutger and the crushing blow of his rejection. She told him about the birthday gift, how he began to read her favourite book just so he could talk to her about it, and the way her heart fluttered whenever she saw him. Sofia also recounted how she had finally mustered the courage to tell him how she felt, only to have her hopes dashed when Rutger shut her down.

“I thought he felt the same way, y’know?” Sofia says. “Sometimes when he’d look at me… I was convinced he liked me too but…”

She truly didn’t know. She was so convinced that the feelings were mutual.

“And you love him?” Luca asks.

“Maybe not love him but… Luca… I swear I can’t stop thinking about him.” she says.

Luca sighs. “Sof… Oh god, what would Adam think?”

“You can’t tell him. Please.”

He flicks his gaze to Sofia, her eyes teary and red. She’s got her arms wrapped tightly around her torso, her lip tucked tightly between her teeth. Luca knows well enough to know when his sister is lying or being untruthful. This was not one of those times. Her anxiety was palpable, even as they stood among the whipping wind.

“He’d kill Rutger then you if anything were to happen,” Luca says, head going back between his hands.

“I know that! You think I don’t know that?” she asks. “Please don’t tell him. Promise.”

Luca’s head stays down, contemplating the whole situation. He has to tell his brother, right? It’s Adam's teammate too. His friend too.

“Luca,” Sofia says, voice more stern and solid than he’d heard it their whole conversation. Luca looks up at his sister, her face anxious yet strong. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

Luca sighs. “I promise.”

He looks away again, Sofia’s nerves coming back.

“Are you mad?” Sofia asks, the hesitant and nervous tone back once more.

“Am I mad? Of course, I’m not mad at you Sof.” Her shoulders relax slightly. “Just… remember last time? I don’t want to see you hurt again and I don’t want what happened between you and Adam to happen again.”

“I know, I know.” Sofia nods, bowing her head. Tears begin to form in her eyes as memories from the past come to her mind.

Luca steps forward, taking her into his arms. “You’ll figure it out, don’t worry.”

#sparks fly au! #sofia x rutger #rutger mcgroarty

[fan-a-tink]

Young Royals S3 thoughts

EP5

Even just hearing this scene’s echo was horrific. It must have been so much worse to actually go through it. 

It must be so hard for Wille to reconcile how he knows Erik which what he now knows about him. And he is not here anymore to defend himself. Uuuurgghhhhh!

Please talk to Simon. Please talk to him. Shutting him out will not make anything better.

Sara and Felice doing desserts together, that’s the best idea anyone has ever had :) A chance for them to talk, yay!

This Micke is starting to be a dad too good to be true. This is sketchy behaviour. He is too happy, this is going to spiral out of his control. Oh Sara I am worried for you….

Ok, I am just going to say it (even 2021 me would judge me so hard for this) but August „redemption arc“ is working. Like I honestly believe that he is trying to be a little bit better as a person. I want him to be alright. And yes, I am shocked that I think this. 

Whose locker is number 60? Is that Sara’s? 

Wille once more calling his parents because he needs support. And his dad once more not stepping up. Nobody is perfect, not even Kronprins Erik….!

Edvin Ryding, the actor you are…

This episode it’s Wille’s turn to look as if his soul has left him. 

Oh shit this will be the music room fight. I am not ready. I am not ready. No no no no no noooooooo.

RIP Wille in the choir. Those scenes in episode two were worth it though :)) 

It is so typical for Simon to think that he has done something wrong. Simon, my love, you are not ‚difficult‘ for asking questions!! You are wonderful. 

Wille, those are your thoughts, not Simons. They are your fears, your doubts, your anxieties. And they are completely valid. But please don’t put words in Simon’s mouth and push him away like that. „Maybe he gave in to peer pressure. What do you know?“ Like, Simon is trying to help you here, he’s trying to talk it through with you and help you out. Nooo, don’t walk out on him?!!!

Simon being left behind in the music room is just as devastating as Wille being in there after their fight last season. I am done with this music room. 

The 36 on Simon’s locker is now always going to remind me of that fan exam :)) I was sooo unsure about that question haha

So she takes the letter, but is she reading it? Should we assume she read it? Or is she just not going to read it? I am confused…

Oh no. Micke has forgotten. The hope and desperation in her voice that she’s trying to conceal while leaving these voice messages for her dad is killing me. Also, ruuuuuun! You can still make it :) 

Why is Wille only ever with Felice when he’s had a fight or something with Simon? Like, when they’re good, he never hangs out with her. 

I also do believe he would have accepted and embraced Wille’s queerness. But I guess it’s the fact that we’ll never know that is so hard to deal with.

Purple nail polish ✨ slay :)

Sara made it :) But also, it’s stressing me out that she just puts her id back into her bag and doesn’t close it properly. It could fall out!

That is so heartbreaking seeing that Micke is falling back into the habit of drinking with his friends. And the worst possible moment for Sara to find out, mid-driving test, in the middle of the road. 

Linda giving Simon the long overdue hug and telling him he’s not doing anything wrong. YES!

„Love shouldn’t be this difficult“ - Linda, I trusted you!!! Don’t give Simon ideas.. 

Sara turning up at the house, breaking down. Simon hugging her. Forgiving her. I am in actual tears now. Can’t handle it. I’m sooo glad he is forgiving her. This was soooo necessary. Finally some healing…. 

That’s a decent apology text, Wille, I’m proud of you :)

The nail polish looks sooo good!!

And its off 😂 That was shorter than Wille’s career in the choir..

The Happy Birthday Song Scene will forever be my favourite Wilson scene. I am crying my eyes out because I know it’s all going to go wrong soon, and this might be one of the last moments of happiness. And it is SO BEAUTIFUL!!!!! 

Also I am sooo glad the ‚Is everything ok between us?‘ line happened here and now was immediately answered with a ‚yes‘ - that takes away one of my biggest fears from the trailer… 

Also, he made him a sandwich? Asjdnä oajbef lskdfb .sjdnfsldnf lsdn 💜

I like Farima. Also her green suit is gorgeous :) 

They are holding hands in the car !!!!

„Maybe it was stupid to tell you that thing about Erik. I get that it must’ve been tough to hear.“ Yeah, no shit, August.

Simon is just chilling, living his best life eating cake :) 

„Cause there’s a risk of poisoning.“ Oooff. Simon’s expression is golden :))

I think Simon will never get used to having staff to take care of everything. And to Wille being absolutely ok with that and not even noticing it. 

Spotted Lisa Ambjörn, hihiiiii :))

Please make Simon feel welcome. Please. 

Why are they all pretending like everyone’s happy and fine? 

August is just so happy to be near Sara, it is actually adorable. 

Felice and Sara working side by side. I have so much hope that they can find their friendship again. Like, they are both loving being in each other’s company..! And Felice wanting to be a chef? I am here for it!!!! That whole little scene was beautiful :))

That is the most awkward dinner conversation ever. Poor Simon. Poor Wille. And they really don’t make it easy for anyone just bringing everything back to Erik. Like, that just adds so much pressure on Wille, and also this is such a vulnerable topic for him right now… 

Class Bad Boy. Lol

I love that he hates the title. Like, season 1 August would have loved it! That is GROWTH, ladies and gentlemen!

„It’s not very long. I’ll read it to you“ - dude, she can read, she just didn’t want to! 

His voice breaking up a little while he reads the letter. Malte is really on the next level this season…

The way he leans his head into that hug…! I have so much hope for them…. Please, please, please!

Yes, I can see that from Frederike’s point of view this looks bad. But you don’t know anything about the situation. And you’re just going to cause problems. But of corse she runs straight to Felice. Uuughhh, and things were just starting to look like they could be friends again someday. 

Wille playing a bit of the school song. Is that the only thing he remembers how to play, because he taught it to Simon? 

Wille, you’re being unfair. Yes, it’s hard for you. But Simon is also allowed to find it hard. And he is only trying to support you.

I’m sorry, but Wille’s parents could not be more useless right now. I am so glad Wille is finally speaking his mind. Maybe the delivery is not the most productive, constructive, diplomatic, but a child should not have to beg for his parents to be there for him. And they should not just leave the room when he does. Like, I understand that you are ill and struggling and that it must be absolutely terrible to deal with your eldest son dying tragically in a car crash, but Wille is right, you still have a son, and he needs you!!! 

The way Simon looks horrified and genuinely scared when Wille smashes the gifts. Like, he looks kind of scared of Wille. I bet he witnessed these kind of violent outbursts from his dad when he was younger. Oh Simon….

There it is: „Love shouldn’t be this hard.“ And it hurts just as much as I thought it would. 

Wille’s cheek is so wet, he must have been crying a lot already. 

Simon’s voice cracking when he says „Maybe it just can’t work.“ - he is breaking his own heart admitting this. 

The lyrics just before the cut „I got addicted to a losing game“ - KILL ME NOW!

I am in tears. Like, I knew they were going to come to a point like this, but that doesn’t mean it’s ok!!!

#young royals #young royals season 3 #yr season 3 spoilers #young royals s3 spoilers #yr s3 spoilers

[fandom-hoarder]

Grabbing these tags by @deanwinchesterpregnant from this post to expand.

Because yes, this is a very important part! Sam says it, too!

And while there ARE Sam haters that will say "Sam doesn't know how much Dean sacrificed!" and mean it as a JUDGEMENT and omg wooby!Dean; there are also people like me, who started writing s1 Sam POVs to understand him better, and suddenly connected him to my little brother like, 'OH. Sam doesn't KNOW. How COULD he know??😭' and it's not a judgment of his character or his love for Dean! And he's not stupid! They're both just kids who have yet to work through their own shit enough to realize they don't know EVERYTHING about each other, despite their shared history. It's part of why Sam says in In My Time of Dying that they were "just starting to be brothers again."

Obviously it's a necessary part of s1 to give us, the viewer, expositional glimpses into Sam and Dean's inner workings. But the way they each react to certain new revelations about each other are still canon even if there are Doylist reasons.

It's canon that Sam didn't know Dean carried him out of the fire. It's canon that Dean has felt responsible for Sam almost being eaten by a shtriga since he was 9/10 years old, and it's canon that Sam never even knew that happened. It's canon that the memory of Mary was so coveted by Dean and John that Sam has virtually no connection to her; no stories and no echoes of her in the way they live other than the infamous Winchester Surprise.

It's canon that Sam doesn't really have any happy holiday memories, and Dean does. It's canon that their perspective on the same shared holidays is completely different. It's canon that Dean stole Christmas decorations and presents for Sam and apparently none for himself. And it's canon that Sam realized Dean did that for him and gave him his only present. And it's canon that remembering that made grown-up Sam want to give Dean Christmas even though it meant admitting something hurtful to himself. (John not showing up for Christmas/Dean's last Christmas)

If you put yourself in Sam's shoes--- a kid left alone for most of his formative years; unable to put down roots and make friends; whose best friend, the only one who could even try to understand him, is his good little soldier brother--- it's easier to understand why Sam felt lonely and became a much more introspective person. Because he was literally stuck with just his thoughts and anxieties and the TV for days at a time. When you think about how sick he must've been about it, every time Dean and John would leave. Waiting for that next phone call. Biting his fingernails when the call was late. Wanting to be invited to prove yourself, but also because if you're THERE at least you KNOW what happens.

But then, too, if you can put yourself in Dean's place: it's not necessarily something a kid or young adult can fully appreciate--- especially a somewhat emotionally immature young adult--- that their little sibling is a completely autonomous person with their own inner life. They don't just pause when you leave their sight. Dean throws himself into the hunt, and isn't thinking about how much Sam is worrying about them. He's thinking, "Sam is safe, so I can focus on backing Dad up."

It sounds selfish, but it's simply a fact of the maturing brain that it takes some time to comprehend someone else's existence outside of you as a real thing and not just a vague concept.

So, to touch on another aspect that gets discoursed:

There ARE a lot of things about Dean's parentification that Sam doesn't know at first, but he has always known about it to SOME degree. He had his own perspective on it, and for sure I wouldn't say that Sam thought of Dean as his parent. Dean has definitely always been his older and somewhat overbearing big brother. But who do you think Sam took his problems to? Who threatens to rip his bully's lungs out in After School Special? Who remembers what fucking play Sam did in drama?

And a short related aside--- thinking about how Sam was surprised about the things of his John had in storage. His surprise that John kept an eye on him at Stanford. And relating these things that changed Sam's understanding of his father, to the way his understanding of Dean shifted with each revelation of what Dean had done for him. And despite everything Sam ALREADY knew, his adult brain and life experiences gave him new perspective on things.

This maybe is a little rambley, but oh well. What was I saying...

Oh yeah. So sometimes people get upset about Dean being given like. More praise than he deserves or something, by having those "you practically raised me" lines and things. As if it's a retcon. But it's really not.

It's Sam growing up, and his brain constantly taking in new information and reshaping his understanding. It's Sam seeing how much Dean blames himself for things that weren't his fault, and wanting Dean to see the good he's done. It's Sam being able to see Dean's heart underneath his codependent or selfish decisions, and reaching out. It's Sam trying to remind Dean he can lean on Sam, too.

I've gone off on a tangent and made myself tear up lol. I don't remember where I wanted to end up anymore. Somewhere in the ether there's another rant about how Dean has a harder time allowing himself the introspection on his perception of Sam, and how this leads to Sam having to do a lot of the leading on the emotional maturity of their relationship, and how hard this is when the person you're leading still sees you as their kid, in whatever capacity.

But ultimately, of COURSE Sam does as much for Dean. Of course Sam has agency in this and isn't Dean's baby that had a pampered childhood vs Dean's horrible one. Sam and Dean acknowledging the actual circumstances of their childhood dynamic doesn't have to be a Samgirls vs Deangirls fucking situation lol.

#me.txt #my replies #sam n dean commentary #Dean's parentification #parentified!dean #fandom discourse #peer review #related posts #sam winchester commentary #dean winchester commentary

[theoreticslut]

「 bruised body, broken heart 」

gareth emerson x fem reader

summary: your best friend gets worried, and rightfully so, when you ignore him the day after you have a date with someone else.

requested: yes

word count: 1.7k

warnings: implied jealousy, mentions of physical assault, mentions of bruising, crying, worried gareth & hellfire, brief mention of hospital visits

a/n: uhm...so i got a little carried away with this. it was supposed to be 700 words or less, and its obviously not. i think it's pretty cute though, & it was extremely fun writing for a different character than who i normally do. quick note: the nickname i use for him i've been pronouncing as 'gair' - kind of like how you'd say gary, but without the 'y.' anyways, i hope you enjoy this!! Xx

p.s. if anyone wants to talk about this fic with me pls do bc it gave me so many thoughts

“Have fun on your date. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With Gareth's words echoing around your head, you can’t help but wince and curl in even further on yourself as you sit on the floor of your bathroom. You sure had a lot of fun. That is if getting ambushed by said date and his douchey friends can be considered fun.

You should have known that someone like Ryan James wouldn’t have asked you out on a date and seriously meant it. Yet you let your hope delude you, and you are certainly paying for it.

There’s no way you can show up to school all bruised like this, but there’s also no way your parents are going to let you stay home. Not when they didn’t know about your date and won’t know about how shitty it was.

Gareth is going to lose it when he sees what happened. That thought alone is enough to make your heart ache with guilt.  He’s your best friend, has been for nearly your entire lives, and he didn’t want you to go. He didn’t want you going on that date and you ignored him. 

You should have just listened to him. Surely he had a better idea of what they were planning than you did.

~.~

Gareth hasn’t been able to sit still at all today. Not when he’s been worried about you from the moment he got to school.

You would always greet him with a smile and tight hug at your locker before first period. It was just something you did, but you were nowhere to be seen today. 

It’s bad enough that he doesn’t share any classes with you, but his anxiety only skyrocketed when you failed to show up for lunch as well. He had asked the guys, of course, if they had seen you, but he was slightly hoping they would all say no.

Although the thought of you not being at school at all worried him, it didn’t worry him nearly as much as the thought of you avoiding him which is what his brain jumped to when Jeff said that he’d seen you in the few classes the two of you share. 

“Well is she okay? It’s not normal for her to ignore me.” He had asked, his heart racing and sinking to his stomach all at the same time.

“As far as I could tell.”

While Jeff’s vague reassurance helped slightly, Gareth still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. You don’t ignore him. Not for anything, so something has to be wrong. He just needs to figure out what.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take him long to figure out. Not when you hurriedly walk into the club room right at 3:15 for tonight’s campaign, sporting a black eye.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?” Gareth exclaims, not hesitating even a second to cling to your side.

“I’m fine, Gar. Please.”

“Please what, y/n? I haven’t seen you all day, and now you try to sneak into the club with a black eye? What happened?” 

“Gareth.” Eddie sighs, trying to get his friend to calm down. 

It’s obvious how he feels about you, and that he’s worried, but his demanding tone isn’t going to help anything. 

“Calm down, man. You don’t need to interrogate her.”

“Calm down?! Just look at her, Eddie! She’s covered in bruises, and you’re telling me to calm down?”

“Gareth, please. I’m fine, I promise.” You beg, already uncomfortable with how much of a scene he’s created.

“You’re not, and we both know it. You didn’t suddenly get into a fight, did you?”

Shaking your head, you really hope he’ll drop the topic. You knew he’d be upset, but you were hoping you could hide it long enough to get through hellfire.

“Then what happened?”

“It wasn’t your date was it?” He questions, voice softer than it had been, however when you fail to respond any, he starts to get upset again.

“Y/n, please tell me it wasn’t your date that did this to you.”

You can feel all the guys’ eyes on you which only makes you curl in on yourself again. With being the only girl in the club, all of the boys have become rather protective of you. Hearing that a date did this to you? None of them can blame Gareth for his boiling blood.

“N-not just him,” you mumble before your thoughts start tumbling out of your mouth without you even realizing what you’re saying.

“…but it was my own fault for even going on the stupid date and I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

At your outburst, Gareth finds himself stunned, expression shifting from bubbling anger to confusion. You’re sorry? Why would you be sorry?

That’s when the reality of the situation settles in his mind - you went on your date last night and he, and apparently others, attacked you. They attacked and hurt you. 

“Y/n. Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, peanut. Why’re you sorry?” He questions, tenderly holding your arms as he shifts into comforting mode.

Although he wants to beat the living shit out of the guys that hurt you, that’s not what he needs to worry about right now. Not when you’ve got tears falling over your cheeks and you struggle to catch your breath.

“What do you have to be sorry for, peanut?”

“You…You didn’t want me going o-on the date. I-I should have listened, Gar.” 

“Hey. Hey, I don’t care about that anymore, y/n. Just wanna know you’re okay, peanut.”

“Are you okay?” He reiterates after a moment of you catching your breath and sniffling.

All of the guys watch with bated breaths as you shake your head, your bottom lip pouted out as you refuse to make eye contact with anyone. Gareth is still carefully holding you by your biceps, keeping you from turning away from him, but he desperately wants you to look at him.

“You’re not okay?”

“I hurt…a lot.” You sigh, beginning to fidget with your fingers.

“Where?”

“Everywhere...I really didn’t want to get out of bed this morning. Hurt too much.” 

“Then why did you, babe?” He questions, not even registering the pet name that slipped from his lips.

He’s too worried about you right now that he's not thinking straight, and the rest of the guys know it. You don’t, but they certainly do.

“You know my parents wouldn’t let me stay home unless I was actually dying.” You nearly whine, being too tired and sore to care. 

The only thing you want to do right now is lay down somewhere comfy and let Gareth hold you, even if you aren’t super physical with each other on any normal day.

“Yeah, I know. Do they even know about this, peanut?” 

As he watches you shake your head, he can’t help but let out a heavy sigh. You are going to be the death of him one of these days, he’s sure of it. However, he’s pretty sure he signed up for that risk the moment he became friends with you - long before he ever started to fall for you. 

“Where else are you bruised? Can you show me? Need to know whether or not we need to make a detour to the hospital.” He teases, trying to make you feel less uncomfortable. 

“Might not be a bad idea, Gar. They were…they weren’t too nice.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Th-this one hurts the most.” You admit, placing a hand over the right side of your torso.”

“Can I see?” Gareth questions, voice soft as he reaches for the hem of your shirt.

At his question you finally look up, glancing around the room before settling on his face. He can’t help but notice how panicked you looked, and he worries just how bad it is. 

Although nervous, you eventually give him a short, soft nod. If anyone needs to check it out, you’d rather it be Gareth. You know he’ll be careful to not hurt you any more than you are.

You feel him slide his hand over your hip, palm warm against your bare skin as he tucks his fingers under the hem of your shirt. From there, he lets his palm just barely trail over your skin as he lifts the material, revealing your side to the group.

“Jesus Christ.”

“Shit!”

“I’m gonna-“

Even though the guys are voicing their own shock, all you focus on is Gareth’s. With him finally focused on something other than your face, you find yourself studying his.

For the first time since entering the room you take notice of just how worried he is, and you can’t help how your heart aches. Aside from worry, though, you can see a plethora of other emotions swirling in his eyes - anger, hurt, softness. 

“Y/n…peanut. This, this isn’t good.” Gareth comments, voice soft even though you would’ve expected him to shout some expletive like the others.

Nodding, you can’t help the small hitch of your breath as he gently caresses the purple center of the bruise with his thumb.

“Gareth…take her to the hospital. Get her looked at.” Eddie comments, drawing the boy’s attention from your marred side.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. You guys…?”

“We’ll hold off on the campaign until next week. This is more important.” 

“Okay. Uh, thank you.” Gareth thanks, sending Eddie a curt nod before turning back to you.

“Let’s go, yeah? We’ll make sure nothing’s too banged up, okay?”

There’s no stopping the small smile that grows on your lips as you nod, tangling your arms out in front of you as he places a hand to your hip.

He is so going to hurt whoever did this to you, but they better hope you’re not too hurt aside from the way-too-big bruises. If there’s anything seriously wrong, there’s a very good chance they’ll be making a trip to the hospital as well.

No one is going to hurt you like this - on top of toying with your emotions - and get away with it. He’s not going to let that happen. Not when you mean everything in the world to him.

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

pls like & reblog if you enjoyed!

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#theoreticslut’s slumber party #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #st fanfic #stranger things angst #st angst #stranger things fluff #st fluff #gareth emerson #gareth emerson x reader #gareth emerson angst #gareth emerson fluff #gareth emerson fanfic

[luminous-letters]

HELLO i see your requests are open and i'm kinda curious;;;

So the case is i really don't like sebek, like pretty much can't stand him BUT theres a scenario that happend in my dreams that was sebek finding mc crying (they don't really get along yet) the reason being she really misses home and feels super alone in this new world, so how do you think he would react after that? I wanna see if this fic makes me like him a little bit more (can be romantic or platonic u choose)

SORRY IF ITS TOO MUCH HAHA I GOT CARRIED AWAY

i understand that sebek could be a bit off-putting at first glance (with him constantly screaming about malleus and whatnot) he's the scrunkliest scrunkly that ever scrunkled if he ever grows on you. you'd go from crocodile (derogatory) to crocodile (affectionate)

naurr it's completely alright

side note: i'm so sorry that it was delayed this much 😭 i hope you enjoy 💛

"Human, you're formally invited to a grand banquet at Diasomnia. Make sure to not be late as to not cause shame to Lord Malleus' name," Sebek handed you an invitation, in all of its black and green glory.

"I...I don't— I can't attend," you replied, handing it back to him. "You're declining an invitation from Lord Malleus himself?" he looked at you incredulously, bewilderment that quickly morphed into aggression.

"Do you not know your place?" he huffed, "The crowned prince of the great Briar Valley sends an invitation your way and you have the gall to decline?" he seethed.

Why are you refusing something that he's been wishing for his entire life?

"You're right, I don't know my place. But I'm sure as hell it isn't here," you replied, trembling, with tears that threatened to spill.

"What are you talking about?"

"I want to go home. I didn't ask for any of this shit I'm getting," the thinnest sliver of strength you had finally snapped. "I have parents, siblings. I don't want to be stuck in some dead end, crappy excuse for a dorm. I have a life, and I want that life back."

You were homesick, that much he gathered. But is it too much to refuse an invitation from Malleus Draconia, of all people?

"I don't belong here."

That certain phrase rang a few unwanted bells inside Sebek's mind. You do not belong here. How many times did he hear those words over and over. How many times was he shunned out, ostracized and frowned upon because of the blood that ran through his veins— impure blood. He was not fae nor was he human, then where should he belong?

He understands now. There's somebody else like him.

"But still, you are to attend the banquet. I'll escort you come seven o'clock," he left the invitation on the table. "I expect you to be properly dressed and groomed by the time I return."

You didn't reply.

Did he do the right thing? He wondered as he prepared the various tableware for the banquet. He moved absentmindedly, knee-deep in his thoughts and doubts about his earlier exchange with you.

"...bek? Se...k? Sebek!"

"WHAT?!" his voice boomed.

The crash of the now shattered, ceramic plate echoed across Diasomnia's ghostly lounge.

"You look troubled. Did something happen?" Silver asked, quickly moving Sebek away from the shards. "It's nothing," he grumbled.

"If it bothers you this much," Lilia emerged from the dark corridor, "Then it must be concerning," he used his magic to return the plate to its former, more pristine, condition.

"I assure you, Master Lilia, it's nothing of concern."

"Could it be...your conversation with the Prefect earlier?"

"Silver...! How...how did you know?" he hung his head low, his heart thumping quickly from anxiety. "A bird told me," came Silver's reply.

"Calm yourself, Sebek," Lilia Vanrouge's soft voice gave reassurance, but it barely did anything to ease his worries. "Your conversation with her sounded like it didn't go too well," Silver continued, causing Sebek's heart to beat faster than before.

With the mention of the Prefect, Malleus Draconia materialized from bright green wisps. "What about the Prefect?" the Diasomnia housewarden questioned, further exacerbating the half-fae's frenzied heartbeat.

"My Lord, she's declined the invitation. She does not wish to attend," Sebek gulped, jumping when cracks of thunder roared around the dorm.

"Sebek, if you should know, the Prefect is an endeared acquaintance of mine," Malleus spoke in a low voice, it was so threatening that it sent chills down Sebek's spine.

Sebek stammered, "W-we had an exchange earlier and...and— well, she had the nerve to not accept and—"

"And?"

"And I feel like she'll want to attend even less after our conversation..."

An uncomfortable, drowning, almost deafening silence filled Diasomnia. Save for the occasional rattles of thunder.

"Lilia, cancel the banquet. I have more important matters to attend to," Malleus waved off towards the dorm's vice housewarden. "No, I will not," Lilia's voice was stern.

"This banquet is as important to Briar Valley as much as it is to Diasomnia, and it is your duty as housewarden as well as the crowned prince to host the event and tend to the delegates," Lilia scolded. "But she's—"

"She can wait. This affair weighs worlds more than her."

Sebek hadn't felt more ashamed and embarrassed before. The irony that he was the one who would cause his Lord's rage and strike a disagreement between both of the people he looked up to. "Sebek," Malleus called.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Seeing as you were the one who pushed her to such extremes," the fae prince began, "I task you with consoling her, take it as a chance at redemption. Stay with her until she feels better, I don't care even if it takes until sunrise."

"But Malleus, it's his right to attend. This abuse of power is something not befitting of someone of your caliber," Malleus laughed at Lilia's remark, "Abuse of power? I'm merely enforcing discipline and conduct to one of my retainers," he said the title with malice, meant to demean rather than to glorify.

"Take it as a chance at redemption."

"Malleus—" Lilia interjected, "No, I'll do it!" Sebek said, with the same loud enthusiasm he'd always offer his Lord. "If that's your decision..." Lilia sighed.

He offered the first year a pat on the back, "I'll save you some food for when you get back."

"Thank you, Master Lilia! And I will not disappoint, Lord Malleus!" with that, Sebek began his march towards Ramshackle dorm. To you.

Seven o'clock sharp. He was standing in front of your dorm, donning a black suit and a bright green tie. He had hope that maybe, just maybe, you'd decide to attend. He's always wanted to be with them, with true fae. "Um...are you there?"

"If you're here to escort me you're just wasting your time," you spoke from behind the door. "I'm...I'm sorry, I should've taken into consideration your situation..." Sebek said.

No reply. The lights flickered off and fading thumps of footfalls against oaken floorboards were the only replies he received.

What else could he do but wait. Diligently and patiently he sat on the porch, watching the stars as he passed the night. As Lilia says, "One cannot achieve greatness without patience."

Well, he didn't actually say that. He just thought it'd be cool if he did.

Come sunrise, as the morning dew rested on the last few blades of grass in your dorm's lawn, Sebek was still there. He waited, although he was silently snoring. He was slumped over with a plastic bag in hand.

"I missed the banquet," he sighed, "Well I never asked you to—"

"I know. I did it of my own accord, well Lord Malleus asked me to keep you company. But I swear most if it was because I was...I was guilty?" he rubbed the sleep off his eyes.

"I brought some leftover food from last night. Seeing as the headmaster doesn't give you enough budget to afford good food," he handed you the bag, filled to the brim with delicious dishes— savory pork and sweet and sour chicken, among many others.

You took it, "Come inside, we can eat it together."

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #fem!reader #female reader #fem!mc #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twst fanfiction #twst drabble #twst oneshot #angst to fluff #hurt/comfort #answered ask #writing #my writing #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twst angst

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | chapter 08 (finale)

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist

Chapter 08 — Shooting and Finishing

Days went by smoothly. I tried to spend as much time as possible minding other people's business and concentrating on other people's drama. Hours daily doom scrolling social media. It worked as expected and I managed to stay distracted.

Until I got a promotion at work. Yesterday.

It was the most ordinary day possible at the office, the monotonous hum of the air conditioning filling the room as I sat at my desk, the low voices of my coworkers talking nonsense to each other, somebody somewhere in the office opening a snack thinking no one would notice… The usual. 

And then my phone buzzed. I glanced down at the screen to see a text from my boss, Mr. Evans.

‘Can you meet me in the media room in five minutes?’

My heart pounded as I read the message. I always hated meetings with the boss, they were never ever good news. I headed towards the media room, my footsteps echoing in the otherwise silent corridor, my legs shaking.

When I entered, Mr. Evans was already sitting down, his expression a mix of anticipation and confidence. He gestured for me to take a seat, and I nervously obliged, my palms beginning to sweat.

"Isabella," he began, his voice steady, "I've been observing your dedication and hard work over the past months."

I nodded, my anxiety building with each passing second.

"I believe you're ready for a new challenge," he continued. "I want to offer you a promotion, a better role, with increased responsibilities."

My mind whirled, a thousand thoughts colliding. The promotion was everything I had hoped for, but it was also the very thing I had been avoiding. It meant stepping out of my comfort zone and facing the unknown.

I agreed anyway, and didn't even have to think twice. I just nodded and thanked him. I could feel my legs trembling beneath the table, as if they were on the verge of betraying me. My voice quivered as I responded, "I... I appreciate the offer, Mr. Evans."

He gave me an encouraging nod, his eyes unwavering. He could tell how nervous and like a kind and caring mentor Mr. Evans smiled, a reassuring gesture. "Isabella, fear is a natural part of growth. It means you're stepping into uncharted territory, and that's where true progress lies."

I couldn’t escape reality after that. No amount of idiotic insta posts could keep my thoughts away from the inevitable: I want Rúben. I want to talk to him everyday. I want him in my life. I want to be a part of his life.

So, even scared, even with my legs shaking and heart pounding and all of that. I called him.

‘I have an answer for you’, I wanted to say. Instead, I said:

“I just got a promotion!”

“Isa, congratulations! That 's amazing.” I could hear his smile through the phone, he did not question my phone call and sounded genuinely happy for him. The desire to hug him flooded me.

“Well, you see… I actually got scared when I first heard about it. It seems like a lot of responsibility.” I was twirling my hair fighting the urge to bite my nails.

“What? You think so?” He seemed so worried I almost laughed, but I had a point to make and he needed to know.

“I have commitment issues.” I say loud and clear.

He takes a moment to answer, unsure.

“Are you still talking about the job?”

I shake my head, uselessly, since he can't see me.

“I lost both of my parents when I was too young to know how to deal with it and I never had a serious relationship before.” 

I can hear him sighing over the phone and I use the moment to take a deep breath and proceed. I decide to tell him all at once, before I have the chance to lose courage again.

“I realized something about myself this past week.” I continue. “I tend to focus too much on what’s right in front of me, instead of considering the whole picture. I worry too much about the small emergencies life throws at me and forget about what’s really important.”

“Am I a small emergency?” He interfered, confused.

“No, you’re the important part. You’re the house.”

I make gestures as if he could see me, trying to make him understand.

“The house?” Rúben laughs.

“Yeah… Shit, I kind of ruined the speech, there was a part about a house and leaks and…”

“Isa, are you home?” “Yes–” “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Twenty minutes later and he was towering over my front door wearing a hoodie and rosy cheeks, he looked like he came running to see me. I felt in the moment that I was allowed to hold him as hard as I’ve missed him, so I did.

Rúben held me back and I felt a soft kiss on my neck. He then held my face, making me look him in the eye.

“Is this your answer?” He searched for any sign of doubt in me, but there wasn't any.

“Yes. Yes, I’m not running away again, I promis–” and he kissed me. Before I could finish my sentence he closed the apartment door and still holding me tight, he guided me inside.

“I missed this so much.” His voice was rough, his lips still touching mine as he spoke, going in for another kiss. Rúben was hungry and I shared the same feeling. “I missed you.” He spoke, this time properly looking at me.

“I missed you too.” I told him with a smile, feeling so happy and grateful for his reaction.

He smiled even brighter at my words, looking suddenly relieved. His hands were firm in my waist then, pulling me as close as possible to him.

“Now come here, we have to make up for the lost time.”

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[onlyforpjm]

Agent Emerald

Episode 1; Korea's Boyfriend

❧words: 4,884

❧ warnings:gun violence, violence, blood, minor deaths, one sided love

❧pairing: agent!jimin x agent!y/n ft jungkook

❧genre: strangers to lovers

❧au: national intelligence service/agents/bodyguards 

summary: Protecting Jungkook as you work for the secret service was a walk in the park, until things change for the worse and a new recruit is assigned as your partner, Agent Dorem.

Jeon Jungkook, someone you were all too familiar with.

The name that echoes throughout the room, turns heads from those who are interested in what he’s wearing lately, and gossiping about his dangerously good looks. The country knows Jeon Jungkook as the president’s son and his only child.

Every woman wants him and every man wants to be him, you’re no stranger to Korea’s boyfriend, who is currently standing in front of you in his 2.4 million penthouse with one shirt in each hand. One black, one white, pouting like a lost puppy.

“I have no fucking clue what to wear.”

You scoff at his words as you cross your arms looking at him standing in his grand master bedroom connected to his closet. “Really Jeon? It’s the same shirt but different colors, shades at that. Just pick one before you’re late to class.”

He rolls his big brown doe eyes and sulks back into his walk-in closet like a kid who recently dropped his favorite candy on the floor.

“You would think my own best friend would know the differences between my favorite shirts. One shirt can change a whole outfit. Y/N” He starts to rummage through the rest of his wardrobe.

“Jeon, I am working, and you know better to address me as Agent Emerald, not my legal name.”

Jungkook lets out a loud groan and darts his eyes at you. “Y/N. I’ve known you since you had a disgusting teenage crush on Justin Bieber, you’re always going to be Y/N to me, not Agent Emerald” Quotations are thrown in the air using his hands and his broad nose scrunches up cringing saying your code name.

A hand rest on your nose pinching the bridge as you try your best to keep things professional following protocol, but your oldest friend keeps testing your patience.

Jungkook notices the frustration on your face and his softens.

“Okay, I’m sorry. I know you’re working and my dad made strict rules even though he knows how close we are, but c’mon Y/N. I know this is torture for you too.” His eyebrows wiggle when he speaks his mind, a bunny smile appearing as he walks towards you. “And what’s the big deal we’re the only people in my house right now, loosen up a little.”

A comforting sigh leaves your mouth and you let your shoulders relax. “I know Jungkook. I just have a lot of pressure on me. It has only been a few months since I’ve been assigned to you, and you’re my first job. I’m still a rookie and I don’t want to jeopardize anything.” You look at him with sad eyes.

Truthfully when you first decided at the age of 9 to become an agent and be a part of the national intelligence service or NIS, you were aware that your first job would be small and be an introduction to your work and that a big mission wouldn't be assigned until you at least have 5 years worth of experience. But the shock that traveled through your body as your boss informed you that the president himself requested you as Jungkook’s personal agent was unimaginable.

Of course, it was because you had known Jungkook since you both were pre-teens, being friends for a decade his parents gained an abundance amount of trust in you, but the fact you received one of the most important jobs in the country one year into you being on the workforce gave you unimaginable anxiety.

“I would hardly call it a few months. It has been 11 months since you’ve been assigned to me and 2 years since you’ve been an agent Miss Emerald.” A muscular arm wraps around you and his head rests on your shoulder.

You comply and lay your head softly onto his. Inhaling his shampoo evidence that he’d showered earlier. “I think you’re pretty amazing Y/N, relax a little. Nothing has even happened over these 11 months. If anything you’re getting paid to spend more time with me.” He spins carefully and then strikes a pose. You let out a small chuckle at your childhood friend’s actions.

“Okay okay, you’re right and I hate it when you’re right.” A smile creeps on both of you.

“Exactly, Jeon Jungkook is always right!” Rolling your eyes then quickly gaze over his well-organized closet.

“Oh shut the fuck up and get dressed. Put on that flannel, black Balenciaga shirt, baggy jeans, and your favorite black boots, and let’s go! You’re already late.” Simultaneously you look at your watch. Five minutes before Jungkook's class starts. Then you turn your back and start heading to the front door leaving Jungkook behind. He stands there in disbelief with his tattooed hand covering his mouth dramatically.

“Y/N! You’re a fucking fashion genius!”

An obnoxious yawn appears on your side.

Jungkook has his eyes glued to his phone scrolling through yet another fashion website to add more to his already tight-packed closet. His free hand reaches to fix his hair, a cute habit you adored about Jungkook.

His eyebrows furrow as he speaks to let you know what's on his mind. “Sometimes I just want to drop out and live my life as a freeloader.” You smile softly at your best friend’s words. “College is cool and all but the boring days are dreadful and instead of you following me around the campus, you could be following me around Bora Bora or something.”

While telling you his thoughts he raises his phone to your view and shows you a pair of shoes on the website from earlier. You analyze his pick carefully scrunching your nose and shaking your head.

Jungkook nods in response to your answer. “Jeon, You could choose to live in hell and I still would follow you around. Wherever you go I go.” Your face remains expressionless. Jungkook grins cheerfully then raises both of his arms to wrap around your neck giving you a genuine hug.

You both stop walking and you wrap one arm around his waist to return his hug.

Jungkook pulls away with fake sniffles wiping his crocodile tears.

“Y/N you’re so sweet.” He continues his act but gets increasingly louder causing other students on campus to turn their heads at the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something here?”

A towering man approaches the both of you with a warming smile holding two plastic bags in both hands.

Jungkook returns a smile and waves to his first friend he’d made attending college “Taehyung! You just missed one of Y/N’s rare moments of her being sweet to me!”

Taehyung lets out a dramatic gasp and hands you one of the plastic bags. “No way. Y/N being nice? That’s unheard of.” You scoff and roll your eyes at the two boys on each side of you. You look into the bag Taehyung handed and see bakery goods occupying the space.

“Alright alright. I’m not mean guys. I only act stern when I’m working and I basically work 24/7.”

You take a chocolate croissant out and take a big bite. The flavor immediately disperses through your tastebuds and you groan at how good it tastes. You wish that you didn’t skip breakfast this morning.

“On-shift Y/N and Off shift, Y/N are two different people.” Taehyung follows your actions and grabs a slice of pound cake. Jungkook’s shoulders slump hearing his friend's words and glares at you lightly. “Either way she’s still mean to me” Now crossing his arms mimicking an upset child. You chuckle.

A small vibration comes from the left pocket of your sweatpants and you reach for your phone lifting it to your view and tilting your head with a confused face as you see who is calling your phone. Jungkook who took some of Taehyung's pound cake notices your movements “Who is it?” You look over at him and silently debate whether you should tell him. A small sigh comes out of your mouth.

“It’s your father.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. Stress rushes across his face. “My dad? Why is he calling you?”

You begin to walk away to pick up your phone which seems to be ringing for an eternity gesturing an apology for not responding to Jungkook's questions.

President Jeon has not once ever called you personally in your 12 years of knowing the Jeon family. President Jeon has always been busy ever since you met him. Before his presidency, he was the CEO of his company. Retiring and passing it on to his most trusted worker, which is the sole reason why Jungkook is attending college studying his bachelor's degree in Business Administration to prepare himself as the next heir to the company after the current CEO, who is awaiting Jungkook to be ready so she can retire.

You were yet to be introduced to him until the age of 16, seven years after befriending Jungkook finally meeting him at a family Christmas party which Jungkook’s dad missed years prior. President Jeon was an extremely professional man to the outside world and you, but the more time you spent with the Jeon family you’d notice how even more cold-hearted he is when it would come to his wife and son.

You quickly place your phone onto your ear curiosity spreading through your thoughts on why the President is calling you. “Hello, President Jeon. May I ask-“ Before you could even finish the rest of your sentence the President speaks in a loud but serious tone over the phone nearly piercing your ears. “Agent Emerald. Get my son out of there immediately. He is not safe.” Your eyebrows furrow deeply. “Take Jungkook home now! Keep him safe until you get confirmation from Agent H and only Agent H.”

You spent no time asking questions and your feet rapidly move running towards your best friend with the phone still against your ear. “Yes sir, Jeon is on his way home now.” You hear a sigh from the other line with a lot of commotion in the background. “Agent protect my son, please. Everything will be explained later.” The call ends after and you grab Jungkook’s arm leading him to your car.

Jungkook doesn’t protest waving his friend goodbye and Taehyung goes to class returning a wave with a smile not questioning what had happened as he knows the protocols. “Y/N? What’s going on. Is my dad okay?” Worry fills his brown eyes as they stare at the back of your head aimlessly following and going wherever you go. As you enter your car you swiftly turn your head scanning for any dangers. “I haven’t gotten any information. All I know is that something major happened and that I need to take you home now.” 'You drive off the engine roaring as you press the accelerator.

Jungkook reaches for his phone to check the news.

“What the fuck.”

His jaw visibly drops and freezes with his phone almost slipping through his hands making contact with the car floor.

“What? What happened?” Your eyes focus on the road speeding trying to get to Jungkook’s penthouse.

“The Vice President has been shot. About 20 minutes ago.”

Jungkook places his phone down to hold himself in his arms, tears threatening to spill. “He…He has a family Y/N. What the fuck is happening.” Hands grip tightly on your car wheel knuckles turning ghostly white. You continuously scan the rearview mirror for anyone attempting to harm Jungkook.

Your eyes squint slightly eyeing a suspicious black car that had been following yours closely. “Fuck. Hold on Jungkook.” Jungkook responds quickly holding onto the car bracing himself from your actions. The car roars as you press your pedal to the car floor as you make a sharp right lifting the car onto its two wheels as it tilts and you reach another street trying to avoid the following car. At the same time, you look into your rear view again to see the same car mirroring your movements now increasing its speed towards you.

Jungkook follows your eyes and notices the same car. “Shit shit shit! Are they following us?” Panic overcomes him and his hold becomes more secure. “Yes. Whoever they are, it must be related to the shooting of the Vice President.” You pick up your earpiece and apply it to your ear. The earpiece automatically connects and you speak with volume.

“This is Agent Emerald. I have Golden Jeon with me. A Black BMW 430i is following us. Requesting for backup immediately!”

Jungkook flinches at your raised voice. A female voice appears through your earpiece. “Agent Emerald we already have your location. Backup is on its way.”

Before you could realize it, the black sports car speeds up and appears on your driver’s side. A masked man dressed in black head to toe points a gun toward Jungkook with half of his body outside the car window.

Jungkook ducks immediately and covers his ears out of fear as the unknown man opens fire but the bullets end up ricocheting against your bulletproof windows. Frustrated with the men targeting Jungkook. You turn your wheel harshly towards the small car colliding with the man shooting towards the two of you causing him to get hit and drop his weapon. The masked man goes back in his car showing pain from your action as the driver tries to keep the car stable from your actions. You look back once more to find familiar cars from the national intelligence service and then speed off in your car heading straight not minding the multiple red lights you ran.

Jungkook looks up uncovering his ears. Tears were ridden all over his face. “Wait where are we going? You missed the way to my house.” He lowers his head again holding his head in disbelief. “I just want to go home Y/N. Please take me home.” You try to not react to your friend but as your heart sinks you can’t help but express pity. A hand comes off the wheel as you place your hand on Jungkook’s head. Caressing his locks to comfort him. He relaxes slightly but keeps his position still admitting fear. You don’t turn to look at his eyes focusing on the road as you speak to him softly. “We’re taking a different way. Your home is the safest place to be right now. I promise I’m taking you home and I promise I will keep you safe Jungkook. Trust me.” Jungkook takes your soft hand from the top of his head placing it in between his hands squeezing tightly.

“Ok. I trust you.” He whispered quietly.

You look behind your car once more to see the car long gone and that you’d lost them. Sighing quietly in relief as you drive to Jungkook’s Penthouse. You’ve been Jungkook’s agent for almost a year now and two years since you became an agent. Never had something happened like this to the President, let alone Jungkook. You know this was the sole purpose of your job but thoughts helplessly ran through your mind.

Why is this happening? Why were they trying to assassinate Jungkook? Who were those men?

The rest of the car ride was silent as you didn’t want to spark up a conversation knowing Jungkook was in shock and still in fear of the events happening prior. You drive to Jungkook’s neighborhood approaching the gate slowly littered with police and agents like you. Which had seemed to triple from the news earlier today. You roll down your window showing your badge and Jungkook to gain access and enter the neighborhood.

You park your car in your designated parking spot, quickly exiting your car to go over to Jungkook’s aid. The passenger door opens and Jungkook comes off with heavy footsteps as his legs go weak almost collapsing. You react and catch him before he could make contact with the parking lot floor.

"Jungkook hold onto me."

His muscular arm wraps around your shoulders applying his weight and propping himself onto you. The weight is heavy but thanks to your hard work at the gym you effortlessly support him.

Arriving at his penthouse.

You open the door with a keypad greeted by Bam Jungkook’s large brown Doberman. Jungkook softens and kneels to embrace his guard dog. “Bam I’m so happy to see you, buddy.”

Tears fall again. You walk over to the sobbing boy and rest your hand on his head. “I’m so sorry this is happening to you Jungkook.” Jungkook stands up straight and turns towards you.

This time you wrap your arms around his neck giving him a comforting hug. Jungkook returns your hug and continues to let his tears flow onto your shirt.

“I was so fucking scared Y/N. I didn’t know what to do. When I saw the gunpoint towards me I…I…”

His sentence stops with more sobs and he breathes rapidly trying to control his breathing. You know the start of this action too well. Rubbing his broad back you try to calm him down. “Breathe slowly Jungkook. You’re having a panic attack. Inhale and Exhale slowly.”

Jungkook listens to you and follows your words carefully. Heavy breaths come in and out of his body and slowly Jungkook starts to calm down. You guide him to his couch for him to sit and your phone rings once more.

Reminding you of the earlier events as if it was deja vu. You reach for your phone and look at displaying the contact name Kim Seokjin remembering the President’s words of only getting confirmation from Jin.

Quickly you answer the phone and place it to your ear. “Hello Agent H.”

Agent H is the head of the National Intelligence Service and your boss, being the youngest in NIS history to acquire the head chair at the age of 26 after serving the president as his main agent for 5 years. Seokjin was like the older brother you never had before. He'd had taken you in after you fled you home and raised you to the person you are to day. Jin had grew up protecting the president and naturally became close with Jungkook seeing Jungkook as his own brother, naturally he'd introduce the two to you. His firm voice reaches your ears. “Agent Emerald put your call on speaker, I want Golden Jeon to hear this too.”

As you put the call on speaker you gesture to Jungkook to listen to Jin. Jungkook looks down at your phone and sees Jin’s name on the call. Immediately bombarding him with questions.

“Hyung! What’s going on? Are my parents okay?”

A quiet sigh comes from your phone. “Golden Jeon your father is safe at our headquarters and we are currently sorting things out after the assassination of Vice President Choi.”

Both you and Jungkook freeze. A tense atmosphere clouds Jungkook’s living room. You look over to your right to see your best friend’s red eyes from all the crying threatening to spill more tears and his shaking hands.

“Assassination? Did the Vice President not make it?” You ask carefully not being able to process the news from your boss.

You can imagine vividly Jin rubbing his temples in the stress of not being able to protect the vice president. “Unfortunately no. Vice President Choi died in action 15 minutes after he was shot.”

A heavy feeling overcomes you as Jin continues.

“There is a secret organization targeting the president and anyone in his family. Including Golden Jeon.”

Anger has now filled you. Who are these people? How dare they try to harm the president and your best friend.

Jungkook remains quiet, eyes still wide. “I need you Agent Emerald to prepare to head to HQ and bring Golden Jeon. We will have a meeting and explain everything in great detail. Until then do not and I repeat do not trust anyone you do not know personally. I don’t know who or how, but we have a rat. Be careful.” The call ends finally as it felt like a lifetime.

Jungkook sits in silence to process all his thoughts.

Your eyes graze over Jungkook’s figure. Feeling pity for him you wrap your arms around his body. Rubbing his shoulder softly to let him know you’re there. “Jungkook, I promise you nothing will ever happen to you. Okay?”

Jungkook leans closer to you finding your warmth and scent comforting. “I know, just promise me that you won’t leave me Y/N” He looks into your eyes with sadness. You soften yours and hug him even tighter. “I would never dare to do that to you. I’m always going to be here for you no matter how far we are from each other.” Jungkook lets more tears flow and you both sit holding each other cherishing the small moment of peace you both won’t have in a long time.

Arriving at HQ was a nostalgic feeling. Since being assigned to Jungkook, you have hardly ever visited. As the two of you moved through the building, he was near your side. His eyes were compelled to briskly scan his surroundings like those of a lost child, but every so often, he would stop his wandering eyes and remember why he was there.

“Y/N!” You turn your head to the familiar voice calling you from behind to see an old friend. Immediately smiling, you see him walking towards you.

“Yoongi! I haven’t seen you in so long!” You stop your pace for Yoongi to catch up, and Yoongi offers you a firm squeeze to make up for the many months you've been away.

Yoongi is a junior agent working in the same department as you. You two quickly bonded over your many similarities while on the same missions. Other agents liked to joke about how you two were once one person and one day split into two.

Jungkook stands patiently waiting for your small reunion, giving Yoongi a welcoming smile.

Yoongi realizes this which causes a halt in his actions and bows towards Jungkook. “Ah, I’m so sorry. My name is Min Yoongi or Agent Suga. You must be Jean Jungkook.” Yoongi straightens his back and offers a hand to the boy in front of him.

Jungkook takes his hand and shakes it. “No need to bow. I’m not the president so no need for um formalities.” You eye the two, slightly chuckling from your good friends having an awkward encounter. Jungkook glares at you feeling embarrassed and Yoongi giggles at the younger one’s actions. “It’s my job to, don't worry about it and I’m sorry for the current events. I wish we could’ve met with different circumstances.”

As Yoongi finishes his sentence your best friend’s face drops. Quickly noticing Jungkook’s mood change, you nudge Yoongi, who clutches his ribs as he gets the wind knocked out of him. A cough comes from you to change the subject. “How about heading to the meeting. Seokjin doesn’t like people showing up late” Jungkook nods lightly and you spin on your heels to pick back up the path you were following, Jungkook repeats your movements and trails behind you. Yoongi pauses in confusion about why his coworker elbowed him. “Hey! Wait for me!” Seeing the figures of you and Jungkook grow farther and farther he speed walks.

Yoongi catches up to you and comes close to whisper. “Did I say something wrong?” he speaks softly, carefully looking back to Jungkook seeing him keeping his head low while playing with his fingers. You gaze over Jungkook for a moment and your face softens at Jungkook’s obvious nervousness. You turn back to focus on Yoongi. Noticing his eyes showing pity to the younger one. “He’s still shaken up over what happened earlier. It’s better not to remind him about it.” Yoongi nods his head and opens his mouth slightly letting out a quiet oh, showing that he’d now understood Jungkook’s actions.

The three of you slowly come to a stop as you reach the room that held the meeting. You hear a loud sigh from behind you. Before you could turn and console your friend, Yoongi had beaten you and was already patting Jungkook’s back to console him. “It’s okay to be nervous. We’re just having a meeting to discuss things. You don’t have to worry about anything. Y/N and I will protect you.” Yoongi gives Jungkook a reassuring smile as the younger one relaxes a bit. Your heart softens at the sight.

While opening the door you see many familiar faces. Including President Jeon. You and Yoongi quickly bow towards him and Jungkook immediately runs over to his parents. “Son! Thank the lord you’re okay!” Jungkook falls into his mother’s arms. His mother starts sobbing clutching her son never letting him go. “My only son! I don’t know what I would’ve done if you were to get hurt!” Jungkook's mom pulls back to examine her son to see if he'd been injured in any way. Jungkook finally smiles genuinely after what felt like a lifetime. "I'm okay, I'm okay. I was so scared Mom." He let his tears flow once more, feeling relieved to be with his family again. The President sits back and watches the two before a serious man with broad shoulders enters the room.

"So sorry to interrupt your reunion, but we must start the meeting." Everyone listens to Jin's words and sits down around the large table in the center of the room.

Jungkook sits by his mom who now had his hand in hers. You sit in between Jin and Yoongi waiting for Jin to speak once more. "As we're all aware. An assassination occurred earlier this morning regarding the Vice President." You listen attentively, carefully processing your boss' words and waiting for him to continue.

Jin inhales deeply before resuming. "The investigation department has researched as much as they could and found out that they weren't aiming for the vice president. We believe that the proprietor was targeting you, President Jeon."

The President's teeth visibly grit and Jungkook shifts uncomfortably in his seat hearing that his dad was originally the one to be killed.

"Not only you but your family, but specifically Jeon Jungkook."

President Jeon slams his fist on the table. Jungkook stares at you hopelessly while anger overcomes your body.

"My Son?!" Jin sighs at the President's response. "Yes sir, we don't know the motive of this, but we know who is behind it." The President's nose flares out of rage. He sits back down as his wife tries to calm him.

Jin reaches for a folder containing multiple papers and opens it carefully to grab the first page inside and faces it towards the meeting revealing a vivid picture of a built man leaving the crime scene from earlier today. As you lay your eyes on the picture of the man behind the assassination your blood runs cold. Your brain processing his features you know all too well. The features you have yourself. You look away out of disbelief to meet the wide eyes of Jungkook. Jin clears his throat and continues.

"This is Choo Sunghoon. He is well known as a mafia leader feared by many, one of the most violent criminal organizations in operation. Leading the Choo Mafia recognized as the most powerful Mafia consists of about 570 made members. We believe he is the one conspiring against the President." You look at Jin with furrowed eyebrows and see his stern expression unfazed. It can't be. Why him out of all people. Choo Sunghoon. Your own father.

Growing up your dad never hid his antics from you. Your earliest memory is of him brutally beating one of his members to death. He had no shame showing you the crimes he'd done, he raised you to be a killer telling you it was to protect your sister Sejeong. He had high expectations for you to be his right-hand man and to be his main assassin. All until the incident with your sister.

You feel a hand grasp yours bringing your attention to the present. You look at the owner of the hand to see Yoongi giving you reassurance.

The only people who knew your secret in the room were Jungkook, Jin, and Yoongi. It was labeled confidential by Jin. You looked over to the head agent to see him with sadness in his eyes. He opens his mouth to say something to you but the President cuts him off.

"That damn monster."

President Jeon's fist clenched tightly as he thought of the mafia leader. Jin shifts his attention toward the president. "We understand that Sunghoon is extremely dangerous. Which is why we have assigned another agent to Golden Jeon."

You look over to Jungkook to see him stiffen from the news.

A knock echoes through the room. Jin smiles as he expected this person. The door opens and reveals a man with dark black hair, so dark it almost comes off as blue, his chubby face doesn't match the rest of him as his body is strong lean, and muscular. He walks in with a smile that reaches his eyes making them half crescent moons and his pearly whites show a tooth that's slightly protruding.

He walks to an open seat and bows slightly to everyone but deeply bows to the President and his family before sitting down

"Everyone, please welcome Agent Dorem also known as Park Jimin."

#bts ff #jimin ff #bts au #park jimin ff #pjm ff #jimin agent ff #y/n agent #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n

[thehistoriangirl]

hi!! i love your fics, they make my day 🩷

may i request a mel x reader where reader is an insecure artist?

thank you!

Hello Anon, thank you so much! I'm sorry this one took so long 😭😭 I struggled a little with how to write it, but I hope you enjoy it 🥺

In Seek of Perfection

Mel x gn!Artist! Reader---1.3K----SFW

The floor was covered in half-finished sketches whose edges peeked shadows of charcoal; a lonely lamp filling the studio with a dimmed golden hue.

One of them caught her attention among the dozen paper balls thrown everywhere.

Still, Mel was careful not to disturb the quiet space with the echo of her heels.

“Not hungry yet?” she said, leaning over your shoulder to see a blank page in front of you, your fingers stained with black juggling with a pencil. The bowl of fruits at the other side of the working table the same since the morning. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

“No, not hung—” Yet your stomach betrayed you, a growling sound interrupting your sentence.

You sighed. “I just… I haven’t done any work today either. And the exhibit is going to be in six months. I need to submit something.”

Mel let go of your shoulders, and you felt how the weight started pressing down on them again. She walked in front of your desk to grab the stool where a wooden box sat atop, filled with unused pastels.

"You know you'd still have my support even if you don't submit anything to this year's Salon," Mel told you, settling the box aside as she took a seat with her hands crossed over her lap. The Medarda ring shone with a reminder. Your duty. Your role.

The artist, and her, the muse.

“Progress’ restless, just like this city,” you muttered. “You know what happens to those who get left behind.”

You’d seen more than your fair share of colleagues erased from the galleries and classrooms when their patrons moved on to the next shiny thing. Once their mastery had slipped just like the rest of their bright ideas.

Sure, the bonds tangled between you two ran deeper than simple portraits of Councilor Medarda she could hang up in the foyer of her house to show her influence and status in this city that had become her home. Just like it was yours, now.

“Art isn’t business. It shouldn’t be rushed.”

You fidgeted with the edge of your blank canvas, taking the newspaper you had hidden once the headline creating a ball of anxiety and envy to get caught in the middle of your throat.

Yazmine LaGarc opened a solo exhibit in one of Councilor Shoola’s galleries, becoming the hottest artist in Piltover, with her ceramics adorning only the wealthiest of houses. The worst part is that she was your classmate, and now, the one who once was at the top of the class has sunk to the bottom.

From your first masterpiece, you fell into a pool of mediocrity and unfinished jobs that ended up recycled or burned in the hearth, thinking that your attempt was just beginner’s luck, and an artist couldn’t be called so if they only created something fantastic by luck.

Every day you woke up without becoming the new sensation in the art world you felt like failing, with the reminder of your parents telling you to reconsider—that you were still welcomed to their merchant enterprise.

What if you were Mel’s protegee? It was a spot so desired that one day you’d be pushed aside. You weren’t worthy enough of being her favorite painter anymore. Perhaps you never were.

"You gave me an opportunity when purchase my painting at the Academic Salon. It was because of you that my name appeared in the side columns of arts during that weekend." You chuckled, such a bitter sound. "And look what I’ve become.”

Mel hummed, the sound redirecting your gaze toward hers.

“By that standard: Would you say that I’m not an artist just because I can’t paint every day that I’m not an artist?”

You blinked, feeling flustered. “No, of course not! But, well, you have a job… and… well, I don’t.”

"You work part-time at your parents' business," Mel called your name, one of her elbows propelled over the table, elegant fingers resting atop her jawline. “I decided to sponsor you because I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me. And you haven’t, but why do I feel like you’ve disappointed yourself?”

Her finger fiddled with the edge of the canvas. “You loved to do this, sitting for hours with that bad posture of yours—what happened, then? Does making not bring you joy anymore?”

Of course, she had noticed about your low productivity for the past weeks, and the lame work you'd produced the months before, results that only started raising questions in sensationalist newspapers about the so-called new art prospect. That your charm had burned out, that for the first time, Mel had committed a mistake by taking you under her patronage.

Day by day, the anger you felt toward the printed words started to drain your creative fuels, the creations bore by spite becoming absent once the disappointment settled in—so deep not even your sadness could evoke inspiration.

“Maybe this was a mistake,” you said, voice trembling. “Maybe my parents were right, and I should’ve taken the reins of the family business.”

Your vision became blurry, hot tears running down your cheeks even as you tried to furiously wipe them away. She didn’t have to see you this way, this small and pathetic.

"Have you ever wanted that?" Mel said, her voice stern. "You can always go back home, and tell them that you've made a mistake. They will take you in, and we both know it. This could end right here, back to all those days you sat on this hard wooden stool trying to create something grandiose. And yet, here you are. You are still trying." She gave you the smallest, most intimate smile. "And that's why you haven't disappointed me, why you shouldn't be disappointed with yourself."

She extended one of her hands, brushing away the tears with her thumbs before offering you one of her handkerchiefs, smelling like orange and lilies and just the faintest essence of the pigments she used to paint with, permeating in the fabric as a ghost.

“Not every painting and drawing you do will sell for millions, nor it will be praised. You can't live constantly gazing upward," Mel said, her eyes dropping to her lap to fidget with the Medarda’s family ring. "Or you'll forget about everything you have now. Everything you can take in to make art as you are right now." She called your name, the name of the self-artist burning the candle every other night to finish assignments, the one who drew and painted until your hands shook with cramps.

"I know I am pushing my hypocrisy here, but you ought to be lenient with yourself, just as you are with everyone else. With me when I must cancel my modeling sessions for my portraits." Slowly, Mel patted your cheek, the tip of your fingers playing with the tip of your ear as she sometimes did when you lay with her on the couch by the fire. “Can you try?”

From your shaking lips unable to pronounce words, you nodded.

She smiled, relieved and proud, as she had always been regarding you. From under her sleeve, Mel took out one of the sketches you discarded earlier, her hands ironing the wrinkles while pressing it atop the blank canvas.

“I like this one,” she said, pointing at a self-portrait reflected on a mirror, showing two images: one the artist, filled with rich details of decorative lines against the simple, weary face of the person reflecting in the mirror. “Art shouldn’t be all about beauty and grandiosity, my dear. Piltover’s too used to perfection, they don’t know what it takes to achieve it. Perhaps you shall show them.”

A small smile tugged the corner of your lips, feeling ashamed Mel had taken the time to observe your discarded ideas.

Mel chuckled, standing up from the seat and offering you a hand. “Well, I’d say dinner must be served already—would you like to accompany me tonight?”

#mel medarda x reader #mel x reader #mel arcane x reader #arcane mel x reader #mel medarda

[your-mom-friend]

The past few months have felt like I’m drowning. My workload is so much and there’s so many things I haven’t done but that’s not what’s drowning me oddly enough. I feel like I’m drowning in the thoughts of the life I might end up with, the life I could have, the life I could’ve ended up with, and the life I want all at the same time.

Yes, drowning is the right word. My hand reaches up to grab something, anything, a rope, a board, a hand, just to get a hold on something that will pull me out of the water that’s blurring my vision and constricting my chest and filling my lungs and weighing down my every movement. Drowning is a word people use often to describe these feelings but for the first time I feel like I truly understand what it means.

Drowning is the right word

There is a small, but not insignificant, part of me that is dark and twisted and manipulative and all the things I swore I won’t be and it pushes me to be kinder for all the wrong reasons.

I am still kind. I mean well. I want my enemy to eat even if not at my table. I want to see my family prosper even if they cast me out one day. I want them all to be happy.

But somewhere inside, one of the reasons I do it is because I want it to hurt.

If I am to one day be gone from their lives I want it to hurt them. I want my laughter to echo in their ears knowing they cast me out. I want my former homes to be so full of my essence, so infused with me that no corner would exist where they could see and not see the person they got rid of. I want my sister to look at the penguin plushie I gave her and wish she’d done different. I want my mother to go in the kitchen and know she’ll never see me excitedly try a new recipe to show her. I want my father to look at the shelves and remember how delightedly I’d tell him about each new book I’d bought, each new thing I’d studied in school.

I want them all to live with the fact that they’d never see me laugh or smile or pronounce things wrong or make the face I always make when I want to ask for something or have long conversations stretching hours into the night, sat upside down on sofas or laid up in bed with blankets in lamp light or leaning against the kitchen counters, ever again.

I think one day I will tell my family who I am and they will get rid of me and I want it to hurt. I want them to never forget who I was to them and who the child they’d loved would never be to them again. I want the kindness and understanding and generosity I am so known for to become a gaping wound in their chests when I’m gone so that not a single day could pass where they are not reminded that that is the person they got rid of for something so simple as a difference in faith, for a difference in love.

I hate this side of me. She wants to protect me from the hurt that will come from being cast away, I think. I do not think she can. I think she hopes that I will accept my fate and move on before it happens so that I don’t need to feel it when it does. She’ll take my pain and turn it into rage for me to propel me further. She holds my hands so, so gently in hers to take the pain away and I don’t want her to touch me.

I hate that she exists. I hope she knows what she’s doing.

I wonder sometimes if all this fear and distrust and anxiety is for nothing. What if everything works out? What if I come out to my parents, about my sexuality and my religion or lack thereof and they accept me? What if I’ve spent so long preparing myself for the worst that when the best happens it will devastate me more? When I’ve spent so many years building this preparatory rage and indifference and now it was all for nothing? What if I’m putting myself through the grief of loss when there was nothing to lose?

This is what I fear more, I think. That it was truly all in my head, that I’d misconstrued everything I’d ever thought was true and that my family is good, and the only evil is me, preparing myself the victim when there’s no crime perpetrated.

I think back to my older sister. She’s been my idol since I was a child. I’ve never not looked up to her. To her strength and drive and resilience and patience. I tell her I fear that one day I’ll lose her. That she’ll get tired of keeping my secret and that she’ll tell our parents in a misguided attempt to help me. She does not tell me she hopes that day never comes, cannot promise me it never will. She apologises in advance for when it happens. We both know it will. This conversation has looped in my head, made itself the star of my every waking nightmare since it’s happened. Not one night passes where I do not picture the scene play out in front of my eyes. A thousand times the scene plays, with a thousand different variables. There is only one ending to the story. There is no other version of this story.

It is hard to think now. I kick my legs. I try to stay above the water. My head goes under and comes up repeatedly. I see the sky before I’m submerged and the dark water before I come up again. My legs grow weaker. My breaths, shallower. I try to keep my hands out, hoping that they’ll grab onto something, anything, to give me a moments respite and expel the water that’s slowly entering my lungs. There is not enough of me left to find a new solution. I’m not sure how long I can keep it going. I can only do it until I can’t. Either I will escape or I will drown. Till then I can only keep going.

#rem rambles #life stuff #rems 3am nonsense #Ramadan has me feeling some type of way #hell is empty and all the devils are here type beat #this was nice to get off my chest #vent post #long post #can you tell I have abandonment issues #except I haven’t been abandoned yet I’m just very sure I will be #ramadan

[cupids-chronicles]

The Twisted series: Twisted Lies #4

Author: Ana Huang

Genre: Romance, New Adult

My Rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐/5.

Spice: 🌶🌶

Goodreads rating: 4.2/5

Pages: ‎560

Published: 30 June 2022

Twisted Lies Review

Note: This book is intended for mature audiences over the age of 18 due to explicit content (steamy chapters).

Ana Huang is back, and she's twisting our emotions yet again! ‘Twisted Lies’, contrary to its name, unfolds a narrative with genuine emotional gravity. And yes, it’s also peppered with some sizzling spicy scenes. Let’s just say, if you need to know when things start to really heat up, flip to chapter 19.

This lengthy book, boasting 56 chapters, is the longest of the "Twisted" series. And in these chapters, we dive into the dual perspectives of Stella and Christian, a combination so fiery and contrasting that I’m surprised the pages didn’t combust. Stella's a social media influencer and a certified introvert. You know, the type that would choose a cozy night with Netflix over a bustling party? And then there’s Christian, the building's enigmatic billionaire owner, who might just have a marshmallow core beneath that brooding exterior.

Stella and Christian's relationship takes us through an emotional conga line – it’s fun, a bit chaotic, and occasionally someone’s stepping on someone else’s toes. With tropes like billionaire romance, forced proximity, neighbor romance, and the always-fun fake dating, it feels like Huang threw all our favorite romance elements into a shaker, poured it into a chalice, and served us a delightful margarita.

However, a fair word of warning: while this cocktail is mostly sweet and fizzy, it also has some heavy undertones. Huang doesn't shy away from real, gritty elements. We're talking stalking, graphic violence, kidnapping, and several poignant themes like Alzheimer’s and the death of a parent. This ain’t your grandma’s romance… unless she's into intense billionaire dramas. If so, go Grandma!

Perhaps the quote that stuck with me the most was, “You will always be my first, last and only love.” It’s sentences like these that make you go, "Ana, who gave you the right to tug at my heartstrings this way?"

The juxtaposition of Stella's quiet intensity and Christian’s seemingly brash exterior converges into a love story that leaves an indelible mark on the reader's heart. For every time Christian seemed like he might explode into a supernova of rage, there's a moment of vulnerability that makes you think, "Ah, billionaires. They're just like us. Kinda."

To wrap this up (before I begin gushing uncontrollably), 'Twisted Lies' is a masterclass in how to craft a layered romance. Slow burn? Check. Intense chemistry? Double-check. A plot that has you clutching your chest in emotional turmoil? Triple check.

So if you’re in the mood for a bumpy road of feels, complicated characters, and a narrative that goes between intensely tender and electrifyingly spicy, 'Twisted Lies' should be on your reading list. It’s the kind of book you dive into on a lazy weekend – and emerge on Monday, slightly dazed and wholly satisfied.

And as we bid farewell to the 'Twisted' series, I echo the sentiment: Ana Huang, whatever you're writing next, my heart and my cup of tea are ready!

Please note that this book is part of a series, but can be read as a stand alone.

Wait a minute boys and girls, check out these trigger warnings first:

Alzheimer’s

Anxiety

Death/graphic violence

Death of a parent

Emotionally abusive parents

Kidnapping

Mention of suicide

Stalking/cyberstalking

Romance Tropes, you ask ?

Billionaire

Fake Dating

Forced Proximity

Morality Chain

Neighbors

Roommates

Who do we meet in this book ?

Stella

Christian

What to read next:

Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey 

The Cheat Sheet by Sarah Adams

Taken by a Sinner by Michelle Heard 

#bookworm #book review #books #books and literature #romance books #twisted series #twisted lies #stella and christian #stella alonso #christian harper #review #booktok #book tumblr #bookstagram

[beetlebrownleaf]

I’ve done something pretty damn crazy and I feel like I’m insane but. I did it

I finally let go of what my family thinks of me.

no you don’t understand, this has been one of the most powerful holds on me since the day I was born.

but I’m done.

I’m done waiting for the approval I will never, ever get.

I have been at my lowest point for this past month - my children were nearly wrongfully taken from me. This is my worst fear, the actual stuff of my deepest nightmares made manifest. I was inconsolable, having panic attacks, I was sick, I lost ten pounds from simply not eating, and I was excusing myself to the closet several times a day to get out my wailing sobs into a pillow so I wouldn’t worry the kids.

The good news is, we have been cleared of any wrongdoings. Because we do not hurt our children. My husband have never harmed my children and I have never allowed him to. We love our children and would never, ever harm them. Ever. Point blank.

My in laws have been incredibly helpful and supportive during this time. They helped me clean my house, they helped me do laundry and dishes when I was literally too sick and depressed and traumatized to do anything except feed and bathe the kids. They showed me who they have always been: kind, accepting, and compassionate people who stand up for their family.

My parents, however? Have used this time to kick me while I was down. My father told me my household was “not fully functional” for reasons that had absolutely nothing to with anything. He told me it was “shameful” that my toddler was not yet potty trained (despite the fact that we have been working on it for quite some time - and are going at exactly the same pace as it did for our other children)

My mother told me this situation was my fault because I would not take my oldest to speech therapy - something she has wrongfully tried to pressure me into since he was just one year old. To be clear, we had him evaluated (TWICE!), and they said he was fine. She also told me my decision to homeschool for the next year, until we can get him into a charter school OR a public school in the town we plan to move into by hopefully 2024, was “wrong” and “selfish”. When I attempted to defend myself, I was told: “everything you do is for you and [my husband], and you and [my husband] only. everything we [she and my father] do is for our grandkids”. 

My father echoed that in the group text in which I informed my family we had finally been cleared, “Please remember to think in terms of what’s best for them [my children]”.

And to top it all off? My mother proselytized to my husband... in his BIRTHDAY CARD. 

These people are not my advocates. These people are my bullies. They are my abusers. I grew up being attacked, belittled, humiliated, demeaned, hurt, and beaten. These people gave me C-PTSD, ignored my ADHD and autism signs, shamed my depression and anxiety, (unknowingly, since I am closeted) shamed my sexuality, and beat me with whatever object was nearby. It is by my own benevolence that I have even allowed them to speak to me. But no more.

Dear [my husband],

Happiest of birthdays to you. It has been a hard few weeks, but God I looking out for you. I pray daily for your return to seek Him again and lead for family to Christ.

No more.

I will not wait around for them to approve of me. They never will. They will never approve of me, a bisexual, polyamorous, nonbinary woman, a queer person, a lover and writer of subject matter that they deem “sinful” and “perverse”.

These people are not my advocates.

And I’m letting them go.

#abuse cw #(I'm fine it's past abuse) #it's long lol #beetle.txt

[xchumonxinxchainsx]

You Saved Me..

This is something I wrote way back when Civil War first came out. I basically came home from the theater and wrote this. Bucky is my boi.💚🖤💜

Buckyx!femReader Lemon aka smutty sex stuff.

But also sweet lovey stuff.

Only real warning for this I can think of is slight dealings with trauma etc. If there is anything else feel free to point it out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat in the living area of Avenger tower deep in thoutght. It was around 11 pm and everyone had gotten back from a big mission and went straight to bed. All except you that is. Much like Tony had experienced post trauma panic attacks after New York, you had begun getting bouts of anxiety after said Iron Man's fight with Bucky and Steve. It had been about a month since then, you had managed to pull some strings with another certain group of heroes to have most of the governmental officials who were involved in the Accords memories wiped. Tony was reluctant to continue as they were after everything that had happened but you managed to convince him it was the best thing for everyone involved.

 Now if only you could shake the memories of the fight. It kept replaying in you head over and over to the point where it brought tears to your eyes. When Steve had hone after Bucky you had gone along with him and Sam. From what he said you knew there was more to Bucky than a killer Soldier, and that was later confirmed when you met him. By the time you made it to the other soldiers you had fallen head over heals for the broken Bucky Barnes. As you all stood in the empty room awaiting your fate he looked at you with pain in his eyes as if he thought none of you would come out of this alive.

"Thank you for believing in me."

His words echoed through your mind as you remembered Tony seeing his parents die and how his rage turned him into a killer with only one thing on his mind. Bucky. You were good friends with Tony and hated seeing him lust for the blood of the man you cared so much for. This war was tearing you apart inside and out. Tony looked in your eyes and all you could see was pure vengeance.

"_____...."

You stood firm.

"You can't defend him from me."

You took a sharp breath in. Your voice broke as you looked up at him.

"I can Tony. And I Will."

Although your voice shook with pain you had never been more sure of anything in your life. The fight raged through your head like a tornado tearing at every shred of emotion you had threatening to pull all your fears back from the hole you kept trying to bury them in. You finally remembered the moment that ended it. Tony had beaten Steve down to a bloody mess on the floor panting for breath. Bucky's arm had been ripped off and he too was covered in blood. You were beaten pretty bad as you struggled to lift your head. You heard Tony charge his hand blaster as you saw it aimed right at Bucky. Everything was in slow motion as adrenaline shot through your body. You screamed at the top of your lungs as you surged with energy. You leaped up and dashed toward Bucky firmly launching yourself between him and Tony. You heard Tony gasp.and quickly push his own arm away to avoid you. You knelt in front of Bucky holding his head tenderly to your collarbone. You were shaking from adrenaline and pain and let out sobs of fear at the thought of losing him. Tony just stared at the back of your head realising your true feelings for the Winter Soldier. This gave Steve the opportunity to get the jump on him and break the arc reactor in his suit. Bucky relaxed slowly in your grasp suddenly feeling extremely weak. You looked to Steve as Bucky slouched onto you panting. He was breathing hard as he stood up waking to you. The two of you hoisted Bucky to his feet and helped walk him out. You briefly looked back to Tony only to see him struggle to sit up. He looked you dead in the eye. You winced before turning back to where you were going.

As you turned to your side on the couch you clutched a blanket around you tightly feeling all the pangs of fear you did that night all over again. You were glad that Tony had accepted Bucky at least for the most part since he was getting therapy now. But you couldn't help but feel like things would never be normal again.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you hadn't noticed Bucky enter the room. His deprogramming had run late that night and he had just stopped down for a snack before bed. That is until he saw you. He too had not been able to get the fight out of his head. He remembered how gently you had held him and how you had without a second thought risked your own life for his.

He quietly walked toward the couch thinking you were sleeping.

"______...."

He whispered seeing the tears falling down your face.

"What's wrong?"

You shot up and wiped your eyes sniffing steadily. You hadn't had much chance to talk to him in the past month. Things had been so crazy that you hadn't even noticed he had his arm replaced.

"Bucky......nothing....I just, I have been having a lot of anxiety lately that's all..."

His brow furrowed. He wasn't exactly the consoling type, but he thought he owed you enough to try.

"Oh uh....what about?"

He slowly sat down next to you as you bundled the blanket up in front of you.

"Well...I...."

You looked at his face. He seemed genuinely concerned so you took a deep breath and continued.

"I just keep seeing the fight with Tony....over and over....every time I sleep, every time I have any down time....I keep seeing him so filled with rage....and not being strong enough to stop him....and I just....I see him now...even though he's accepted you, he still thinks you could snap at any moment and I know hes.just waiting for it to happen so he can have an excuse to attack you again and I just don't think I can stand it a second time!!"

As you talked your voice rose and by the time you had finished you were in hysterical sobs. He looked down slowly. He hadn't realised just how much you cared about him, and how much fear you had that something should happen to him. He didn't know what to say or do, so he just looked at you before slowly inching closer and pulling you into a tight hug. The cold sting of his metal arm on your skin made you gasp. You felt it coil around you and you couldn't believe how lifelike it felt. It was almost as if you felt the metal flexing like real muscle. You'd have to tell Bruce how impressed you were with his repair job later. His warm presence soothed you and your sobbing slowed to sniffling again. You could hear his heart beat as your face was pressed against his muscled chest. As you relaxed more and more you felt him almost purr as he squeezed you a bit tighter. Your face reddened. Could he care for you too? You gently pulled back from him and looked him in the eyes. He looked very tired, and his eyes called for something. He let his metal hand run down your back softly sending a shiver up your spine.

"______....."

You didn't move a muscle. Was this really happening? You held your breath waiting for him to continue.

"You saved my life a month ago...why?"

You hadn't expected that.

"W-well....I...."

You choked out. His lonely eyes searched you for the answer. You felt your face flush and heat go all over your body.

"I...I really care about you Bucky....I don't want anyone to hurt you...."

You looked down at your hands which were now fidgeting on your lap. His hand was still resting on your lower back and he was half laying down letting his shirt ride up just slightly so you could see his abs just a bit. Your eyes darted back and forth from them to your hands as you waited for him to respond.

"Why?"

He asked again. This was really starting to make you nervous. You didn't care why you loved him, you just did! Why did he have to make you explain it?! How embarrassing! Your mind raced before you gathered what little courage you had left to speak.

"Because....all those things you did....they weren't you. You would never hurt innocent people on your own...."

You looked up at him as you searched for words.

"You're worth everything to me Bucky..."

You turned away from him too embarrassed to look at him any more. He sat in silence for a few moment before sitting up again and pulling you to face him. He place his large hands on either side of your face and looked in your eyes

"Thank you......you mean everything to me too ______, you and Steve are all I have in this world. You're the only ones who believe in me."

You're heart exploded. You couldn't believe your ears.

"Bucky...."

You breathe before he leans slowly forward and gently kisses you. You take in a sharp breath as his hot soft lips press against yours. Your arms leap to his chest feeling his hard muscles as his hand move from your face to your back pulling you into a tight embrace. You let your hands travel up his chest to his neck and into his hair running your fingers through it softly tugging as you go. You hear a deep growl echo through you as his hands trace every part of you. You break the kiss slowly trying to catch your breath. Bucky grunts softly as he replaces his lips on your neck gently biting as he goes. You let out a gasp still not fully accepting that this is real. You can't do anything but let it happen as your mind is focused on nothing else in this moment than Bucky Barnes.

He slides his metal hand under your shirt and you shiver as the cold high tech machine glides across your skin. Bucky whispers in your ear as he unhooks your bra.

"_______.....you don't know how long it's been since I felt a woman's touch....."

You let out an unintentional moan as you felt his breath on your skin.

"About 70 years...?"

You breathe out with a smile as your hands trace back down to his chest pulling at the edge of his shirt. Bucky chuckles as he pulls your shirt and bra off at once, then his own. He lowers you back onto the couch tossing the blanket on the floor.

"Do you have any idea what that does to a man?"

He asks huskily as he plants kisses down your neck to your chest. You sigh in delight at his touch as he sucks each if your breasts tenderly.

"I can only imagine how pent up you must be...."

You sigh letting out a sharp gasp as he kisses lower down your stomach. He stops and pulls your pants down to run his hands over your bare skin. The contrast of temperature in his left and right hands gives you a most enjoyable sensation as you moan softly relishing in his touch. You look up at him and see lust filled eyes that are eating you up with every second he looks you over. He can't seems to stop touching you. Suddenly you had an idea. You wanted to do something special for Bucky. After everything he had been through, and to show you really did love him. You took his hands softly and moved them off you. He grunted in protest but you sat up slowly and placed your hands on his chest.

"Don't worry....trust me...."

You breathe as you gently push him back so he's now lying under you. His hands quickly return to your sides as he can't seem to keep them away. You slowly Kis down his neck and a cross his collarbone noting the places that make him softly grunt as you go. You move painstakingly slow wanting this to last as long as possible. Bucky seemed to be lost in it. His eyes were closed and his breathing was getting faster as you went. You made it to the skin where his metal arm connected and his breath hitched as you touched it. Aha! You thought. Of course the area was probably sensitive. You gently ran your fingers around it and onto the cool flexing metal of his prosthetic. He groaned deeply gripping your hair in one hand and your rear in the other. He had a firm hold on you but it didn't stop you from continuing. From his arm your fingers danced down his torso and across his fine abs. You delighted in the reaction you were getting as he twitched and groaned under you. Finally he was getting impatient.

"______....please....you're killing me...."

He said as you played with his waistband. You giggled loving his tortured moans. But he was right. You wanted him just as badly and you knew you couldn't stand much more teasing yourself. You ran your hand across the substantial bulge now fully formed in his constricting pants. He groaned deeply at the touch and ground his hips up to you. You smiled biting your lip as you undid his pants and pulled them and his underwear off revealing his large manhood. You were almost entranced by it before you slowly leaned down taking it in your mouth. Bucky grunted loudly as he took hold of your hair once again pushing your face down farther till you were almost choking. You stayed that way for a moment trying not to gag before pulling slowly back up and starting to bob your head in a slow rhythm. He thrusted up to meet you every time grunting and growling feverishly.

"Mmmm fuck _______!"

He groaned as you wrapped one hand around it to make sure his full length was covered. He propped himself up on his metal arm while he used his other hand to push your hair back out of your face letting it rest behind your head. He watched you work him sending him even more jolts of pleasure. Suddenly he let out an almost inhuman growl pushing you back on the couch and off him. You looked dazed and confused for a moment before he covered you with himself. He to hold of both your hands pinning them above your head in his metal hand. You gasped as you saw the fire in his eyes. He quickly lined himself up and pushed into you with little warning. You let out a shocked moan as he began pounding into you with no warning. You writhed around under him able to do nothing but wrap your legs around him holding on for deal life. He landed down so his face was next to yours grunting in you ear mixing in a few fuck yeahs here and there. Your spine tingled as you heard and felt him all around you. The pressure on your abdomen began to rise rapidly. You couldn't control it, or anything for that matter you moaned loudly squeezing your legs as tight around him as you could.

"Oh god Bucky!! I'm--!!"

You couldn't even get out the words before he had you moaning again.

"Yeah, you fuckin' like that huh?"

His voice was deep and gravely. He sounded like he really had been pent up for 70 years. It drove you crazy.

"Yes Bucky! Fuck me hard! I want all of you!"

You were so close to your climax as he moved his other hand to your face letting his fingers fall into your mouth.

"Yeah, fuck.....say my name. Who do you want fucking you senseless?"

"Bucky!"

"Louder!"

"BUCKY!!!"

"FFFF--!!!"

You both came hard at the same time clutching each other as tightly as you could. He twitched and growled into your ear as you let out a deep sigh of relief. As you rode it out he let your hands go and you both had your arms around each other in seconds. You panted almost dizzy from the experience. After a few minutes Bucky pulled out of you reaching for the blanket that was discarded on the floor. He pulled it over the two of you not caring that you were both naked in the living room. He didn't want to move. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and kissed your forehead.

"I love you _______ _______."

You sigh in content and bury your face in his chest.

"I love you too Bucky Barnes."

~~~♡♡♡Extended ending♡♡♡~~~

Tony yawned tiredly. He had been up late because of some bizarre bumping sound. He imagined Bruce had been up late working on something. Either way he was not in a good mood. He wandered into the living area to get to the kitchen and make himself some coffee when he stopped in his tracks. Moments earlier you and Bucky had woken up and we're currently making out on the couch, still nude. Tony could barely contain himself.

"What the hell is this!?"

You and Bucky jumped at the sharp sound. Bucky pulled the blanket up to cover your chest grinning crookedly. Your face flushed bright red.

"TONY!!! GET OUT!!"

"It's MY living room!! And MY couch!! Which I now need to sanitize with gasoline and fire!!"

"FUCK OFF TONY GOD! JUST GET OUT! OUTOUTOUT!!!!"

You yell as you start throwing clothes at him. He takes the hint that you want to get dressed and he runs into the kitchen with his hands in the air.

"Alright alright!! Damn it _____! You're such a pain in my ass!!"

Bucky laughed heartily at the scene and your pouty face.

"Dumb jerk..."

You mumble. You and Tony were still close friends but ever since you saved Bucky from him he had been treating you more like a little sister than a friend.

Bucky pulled his pants on as he handed you your clothes.

"You tell him _____, it's our couch now!"

Bucky called toward the kitchen earning a loud exasperated growl from Tony.

The two of you laugh again as you dress. When you were done he pulled you into a tight hug.

"I guess we should tell Steve huh?"

You say tracing his lips with your finger.

"Oh I think I figured it out for myself."

You both turned shocked to the door to see Steve smirking.

"I was wondering how long it would take you two to finally get together."

 

~~~~~~The End ♡~~~~~~

#marvel #bucky barnes #reader insert #lemon fic #18+ content #winter soldier #tony stark

[heiyodream]

His smile didn’t reach his dark, red-rimmed eyes. It didn’t improve how gloomy or haggard his face was. “You look a lot like your mom.”

I know, she bit her lip, her parents gave me the pictures. I have her smile, they said. My eyes are hers too. When we first met, her mother looked at me like she had seen a ghost.

She didn’t say all these things but spit out rather mere awkward words, “Thank you.”

His left forefinger tapped the table lightly, in rhythm with his right leg’s up and down motion, which repeatedly almost hit the table. He was a restless man with an odd elegance, she thought, and wondered if that kind of movement was an absent-minded echo of his boyband days.

(In her last year of high school, Raib finally met her long-lost biological father.)

“He was still very young, wasn’t he? Back then?”

“Yeah.” She muttered, wiping her teary cheeks with a tissue. A blush of embarrassment ran down her cheeks. She wasn’t used to being so vulnerable and sentimental in front of her dad. It was to her mom that she usually ran to pour out his heart. “Twenty-something. Twenty-two?”

“I see. It must be difficult for him, then.” He made a sympathetic voice. “Losing his power and his lover in such a short time is not an easy thing.”

“So that’s the reason for him—” She jerked; she didn’t want to scream, but a shriek was on the tip of her tongue as her stomach tightened, “—to, to just leave me like that? Wordless, alone at the hospital? I don’t know my mom, I would never, but I had lost her too! It’s not just him!”

“Ra, gosh.” He stuttered. “That’s not what Papa meant.”

“Then?” She demanded, fury and feeling of unaccepted washed over her.

(Two days after that rainy day at the cafe, Raib and her dad talk about love and forgiveness.)

"I don't know how to do this alone," she admitted with a heavy heart. She held power at her fingertips, and the purest and finest blood flowed through her veins. Raib hadn't had an adventure exploring parallel worlds in a long time like she did as a clumsy high school teenager, but she was still the Moon Princess. She should be strong and steadfast instead of this pitiful hesitating for things that should come naturally to her.

"Oh, Ra," Seli sighed softly, her short red hair swaying as she carefully wrapped her arms around Raib. Raib closed her eyes and rested her chin on her best friend's shoulder, letting her anxiety melt away. "Who said you were alone? Of course not; we are always here. Me, your Mama and Papa. Even Ali! Well, there's a good chance that now, the genius is trying to design the most technologically advanced baby bassinet in his basement."

(The very terrified Raib found herself in, more or less, the same position as his father all those years ago.)

“Mama has already made your favorite dishes.” Her mom tiptoed slightly to reach the plates on the top wall shelf. Her dad promised to lower the shelf years ago but always forgot about it. It was almost like the case why their washing machine always broke down in a matter of months. “You must be tired. What time did you get here? Where’s Maya? Still sleeping?”

“Well, a little sore, but that’s okay,” she replied, coming over to help move the rice cooker to the dining table. “I didn’t notice the clock when we arrived, maybe two? Maya is still using White as her pillow. I couldn’t bear to wake her—traveling between parallel worlds is a little rough for a child as young as her.”

His mother raised her right eyebrow, and the left corner of her mouth twitched. Raib waited for impending rebuke, the complaint you should have left her here with us yesterday, yet it never came. Her mother only shook her head, and brushed her hand off the rice cooker. “Oh, you should just sit there, relax. It’s not often that you come home for this long, so let Mama take care of everything, ‘kay?”

Raib gave her a small smile and retreated obediently to the dining chair she had occupied for eighteen years at home.

(Years later, Raib buried the last connection with her biological mother and returned to her childhood home.)

#bumi series #soon to be ff #raib