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soamericn · 2 months

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𝜗𝜚 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ ‘ one night he wakes strange look on his face pauses, then says you're my best friend and you knew what it was he is in love ‘

𝜗𝜚… summary , ( f!yn x oscar piastri ) oscar piastri is head over heels for his best friend, though he keeps his feelings a secret. he wins his first race in f1 and after seeing her cheering him on in the crowd he can’t hide his affections any longer.

𝜗𝜚… type , irl

𝜗𝜚… faceclaim , up to your imagination <3

𝜗𝜚… triggers , there is none

𝜗𝜚… authors note , my first f1 one shot! I'm really proud ngl and it's as cute as I was hoping! hope ya'll enjoy!

🐰ྀི₊˚⊹ masterlist

all he could hear was his heartbeat in his helmet; it flooded his ears like static on a radio. After getting out of the car without a thought in his head, he stepped onto the car in front of the halo putting both of his arms into the air.

Adrenaline flooded his senses, his colorful helmet shined under the night race lights. The cheers were overwhelmingly loud as each voice blended together into the sea of people.

Subconsciously so, his ears searched for one voice in particular, one that was soft and comforting. The one he’d share a laugh with until three in morning. Or would tease him inexplicably. But the voice was stirred in with the rest.

Oscar stepped down from the car, and the first thing he did was run into the ocean of papaya. Many hands covered him, patting his back or helmet hearing many compliments on his win. After a minute or so of drowning himself in the praise and affection from his team he stepped away removing his helmet and placing it on a pedestal.

He ran a hand through his damp hair, it staying in place as he did so. A hand landed on his shoulder and he turned, seeing a man in a matching suit who pulled him into a hug. “Mate you did great.” He complimented, his voice directly in his ear.

The Australian didn’t realize how truly speechless he was until someone directly spoke to him. The words formed in his throat but never made it out of his mouth.

Lando pulled away with a light two taps on his back. “Thanks, maybe not pelting me with champagne could be a good job present.” Oscar jokes.

The Brit lets out a small laugh and shakes his head, “Oh c'mon you need the full podium experience-” Oscar’s attention on Lando was cut off, the voice.

The one he’d scanned for, moments before the voice had made itself known. She shouted his name from behind the short fence with the rest of the crowd desperately trying to get the man she’d known for most of her life’s attention. Oscar’s eyes searched the crowd, until they found her, he could’ve picked her out in any crowd his entire being always seemed drawn to her.

“Oscar!” His best friend. The only one he’s ever really known. Always supporting him, even today adorning herself in all papaya wearing a jersey he’d known for a fact had a huge eighty-one on the back (and might’ve been stolen from his closet), all for him.

Oscar rushed over, as soon as he’d spotted her after the race, he just knew he needed her in the moment. The calm, composedness of his being suddenly dissolved into the smokey air. Still with a small fence between them he wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her into a tight hug. Her arms naturally floated around his neck, they fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces made just for one another. Camera flashes flooded their sudden embrace, and he lightly lifted her into the air as he tightened their hold on one another. They could’ve done the whole podium ceremony, everyone could have gone home and Oscar would’ve stayed here with his arms around her always.

“You did so well today.” Her voice was soft, the words only meant for him. She only wanted him to know how proud she was of him. How much her heart raced as he crossed the checkered flag, and how much support she’d carried with her for him through everything.

His impulsiveness took over as soon as he heard her speak, he wasn’t thinking about anything in that moment, not the cameras, the thousands of people that surrounded the pair, and certainly not the feelings he carried for her for many years; the feelings he kept deep down for too long, way too long. He only thought of her, the way her soft voice tickled against his skin and the flush it brought to his already red cheeks.

Placing a delicate but firm hand on her cheek which she covered with her own hand, her cheeks turning a light and kind shade of pink and a gentle smile formed from her lips. The lips Oscar just happened to notice how pink and heart shaped they’d been and how soft they looked compared to his own chapped ones.

Oscar slightly looked down and she’d looked up at him, her eyes seemed as if they were looking into him, as if she could’ve read his thoughts. Standing like this for a second, there was a moment where the Australian had contemplated, was he going to possibly ruin a friendship over his own feelings? Before he could even think about not doing it, her eyelashes fluttered warm and innocent and he filled the gap between them.

They were perfectly made for one another. They moved in sync, and she’d tasted of an orange mocktail and strawberry chapstick and everything that's made her, her. His thumb lightly stroked her cheek, and his arm snaked around her waist holding her tightly.

Both her arms ended up around his neck, smiling sweetly into the kiss and giggled lightly into the Aussies mouth. Not hearing the reactions from the crowd surrounding them.

When Oscar pulled away they’d both missed the warmth and comfort of one another. But realization hit him like a tidal wave, remembering all of his actions so clearly except for how her arms fit so perfectly around him, and the way she’d smiled at his affections.

His hand removed itself from her waist and mind started to race and he pictured missed calls, a missing eighty-one jersey in the crowd, losing the praise of a voice that motivated him to be better. He’d completely zoned out at this point and she’d used her hand placing it back on his freckled cheek and directing him to look at her. Of course she’d know what he was thinking.

She always did.

She’d looked up at him, a small glint in her eyes, that made Oscar wanna kiss her all over again but he held back, fear filling his chest so tightly he’d felt like he’d choke on it. He’d race cars at 300km/h without as much fear as he felt now.

Placing a hand on his other cheek, she stood on her tippy toes reaching his lips giving them a light peck. Her way of saying everything was gonna be okay. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of red and his arms comfortably made its way back around her waist and his hand slid up her back.

She looked up at him, anticipating him to make a move. Though she was impatient, she pulled his racing suit collar down and her lips landed on his once again. He gasped in between his lips, a small surprise of her sudden affection.

“I think I’ve always loved you.” He whispered into her mouth in between kisses, her heart shaped lips formed in a smile against his.

She pulled away, lightly biting his bottom lip, “you think I didn’t?” She grinned a light giggle leaving her lips.

It was like a candle had been relit in Oscar’s head, a candle that flamed only for her. A flame that reminded him how much he needed her, how much he’d been needing her. His arms tightened around her almost possessively so, he reveled in the taste and feeling of her, and how she finally knew that most of him was hers.

𝜗𝜚… tags , @whitcferrari @miguelasdr @lcvelctters @cedarbcws

#𝜗𝜚˖ ࣪₊˚ soamericns works!#friends to lovers is everything to me #formula 1 #formula one #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris #f1 fic #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction

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cellsshapedlikestars · 3 years

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day 3: pandemic

for the @fyeahjonandsansa 31 days of Jonsa event, day 3: pandemic

(I won’t lie, I only have 4 of these prompts written and I felt bad about it so I decided to write something for today real quick before I go edit the next chapter of fairytale ending)

Sansa Stark is not a gamer.

She never has been. She's seen people play: her siblings, even Harry had played those shooter games that she hated watching because they made her feel nauseous and disoriented. Too many loud sounds and flashing lights and jerky movements.

But here's the thing - she's been locked in her apartment for almost three months, alone, and Harry left his Switch when he fucked off to Essos with his secretary right before the pandemic hit. Now he's stuck there and she's here, in their apartment, with his Switch.

(She definitely thinks she got the better deal because despite being heartbroken and a little embarrassed at her unceremonious dumping, at least she's at home and not stuck in a foreign country fighting to get back, with a woman that, it turns out, he doesn't get along with at all now that they're forced into quarantine together.)

Sansa's lucky she can work from home, and she's lucky a lot of her hobbies are home-based: she likes reading and baking and knitting. There's only so much reading and knitting she can do, though - there's only so much TV she can watch and there's only so many batches of muffins and cookies that she can make before she finds herself overwhelmed by baked goods and boredom.

And so one day, she'd picked up that Switch after Arya told her about this game called Animal Crossing and it had sounded cute. She'd charged Harry's account linked to his device (he can think of it as her severance pay for their relationship) and downloaded the game.

Cut to a month later and she plays it nonstop. Her museum is quickly building up, though it's not complete yet (curse those seasonal bugs and fish!). Her island is gorgeous. Her residents are overwhelmingly happy. But it's not perfect.

“You should talk to Jon,” Arya says, her voice sounding distracted through Sansa's bluetooth headphones. Sansa thinks Arya's making lunch or something - it's about noon, and Sansa should eat, except she can't make herself move from the couch and her game. “He's got some real nice stuff on his island.”

“What's his ID?” Sansa asks as her little character runs around the island cleaning up stray bits of weeds that have sprung up overnight.

“I don't know, you think I have that memorized or something? Ask him. I gotta go eat.”

With that, Arya hangs up and Sansa huffs out a breath in annoyance. She puts down the Switch and picks up her phone and her thumb hovers over Jon's name in her contacts list. It isn't until she's pressed call that she wonders why she didn't just text him, but it's too late now. Texts can be ignored, she reasons. Calls are easier sometimes and she really wants to get her hands on whatever Jon might have on his island that she doesn't have. She has collections to complete.

She picks her game back up as it rings and finally he picks up.

“Sansa? Is everything ok?”

“Everything's fine,” she says, half paying attention as she sneaks up on a grasshopper sitting on a tree stump. “I need you to come over.”

There's a pause, she catches her grasshopper, and then he finally says, “you know there's a lockdown in place, right?”

“Duh,” she rolls her eyes, something she only does around a select few people and it turns out Jon is one of them. “But I need you, Jon.”

Another pause, she hears him take a deep breath, and then, “for what?” on a shaky exhale.

His voice sounds so strange that it finally makes her pay attention to the call instead of the game and she realizes her mistake. “Oh,” she sighs, “I mean in Animal Crossing. Arya says you have good stuff. You should come visit me and then I can visit you.” She's honestly not sure she has anything worthwhile to offer, but she figures she shouldn't just invite herself over to his island to take things. It's only polite that she invite him to hers, first.

“Animal Cr-” he starts and then it sounds like he takes the phone away from his ear and she can vaguely hear him mutter something from a distance (it sounds a bit like fucking hell, but she's not totally sure). There's a beat and a deep sigh before he speaks again, this time with the phone back up so she can hear properly. “Yeah, sure. I'll come visit your island.”

“Good,” she says, feeling quite pleased with the outcome of this call, though she's not sure why Jon sounds so mopey about it. He gets to come to her island! She can show him her flower garden!

What more could he possibly want?

#jonsa #31daysofjonsa #31daysofjonsa2021

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fruitcoops · 3 years

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Accidental Family

Hey folks! This is one of two fics for the six month celebration of this blog! Woohoo! Blood on the Ice is one of the most popular series I've written, and expanding it into Josie’s (@prohibitionincurls ) Winging It world with her was unbelievably fun. Disclaimer: one of the OCs has ADHD and it is a central theme of the story--while Josie based some of his characteristics on her own experience, we both recognize that this is not a one-size-fits-all situation. Thank you again for six amazing months, and I hope you enjoy!

Lots of love,

Eve <3

TW for mentioned injury

“Oh my god, they’re gonna kill me,” the kid whispered in a wavering voice, sounding much younger than he actually was as he left the penalty box.

“They’re not going to kill you,” Bowie soothed, still watching the tunnel where Remus had disappeared mere minutes earlier. From what he saw, there had been a bit of blood, but the bruising didn’t look too bad. Then again, there had barely been enough time for anything to visibly swell before he was whisked away.

“Can I just stay in the box?” Felix cast a look toward the Lions bench and his voice cracked. “They can’t yell at me in the box, right?”

“Hey. Look at me, Marty.” Bowie took him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “The Lions are good guys. They’re not going to hurt you, but you did just fuck up one of their best friends. What would you do if someone hit me in the face?”

“Come on, man, I’m a terrible fighter. I don’t know how well I’d be able to defend your honor after something like that. It was an accident. Do you think they know it was an accident? Should I go tell them?”

“I know. They know. Loops definitely knows. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, so I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a little cold at first.” He ruffled the rookie’s hair and turned back to the game; the Lions were moving fast and brutal, slicing right through their defense for yet another goal. Shit. Felix clearly felt bad enough already--losing the game wouldn’t make him feel any better.

They ended up losing the game.

Bowie had figured it might happen; he would have had the same fire if it had been his teammate that got clocked like that. Hell, he used to have the same fire when he and Remus had played together, so he completely understood.

That did not change the fact that once they got home, Felix was still borderline inconsolable. The 18-year-old wasn’t technically billeting with them, but the apartment he was renting just so happened to be in the same building, on the same floor, and right across the hall from his and Simon’s. This led to an informal adoption of the rookie and he was around their house at least five times a week, if not more.

Felix Martin was a good kid, and that idea was confirmed when Kronk immediately took a liking to him; the cat loved nobody but the three of them. Bowie was grateful that he and Simon were there to quell some of the homesickness that came from moving out to a new city on his own for the first time. The transition was always tough, but they could provide a little support.

They parted ways from the team when the bus got back from the rink and drove to their building in silence. Once they made their way up the stairs and down the hall, Felix moved to go back to his apartment.

“Nope,” Bowie said immediately, placing a hand on his shoulder and steering him through the door to his and Simon’s place. It wasn’t a good idea for Felix to be alone right now--there was nothing to do alone after a loss aside from beat himself up about it, and Bowie would be damned before he let that happen.

Simon and Kronk were perched on the couch, but they both moved into the kitchen as soon as the door clicked closed. Simon took one look at the pair and carefully wrapped his arms around Felix; the kid practically melted. The three of them stood there for a moment until Simon pulled back a bit and tilted his head toward the living room. Felix nodded and Bowie followed the two, sharing the couch with Simon while the rookie curled up in the large armchair diagonal to them.

He...well, if Bowie was being honest, Felix looked like hell. He chewed his lower lip like an anxious beaver and fiddled with the loose threads of the closest armrest; everything about him screamed discomfort. Bowie caught Simon’s worried glance in his periphery and let out a slow breath, trying to relieve at least a little of the tension in the room.

“You don’t have to relive it if you don’t want to. I saw the game. But if you want to talk about it…” Simon trailed off with a significant look.

Felix sighed and his shoulders caved in a bit. “It was just one of those moments. All of a sudden, I didn’t really have a grasp on what was going on, which feels like shit because I’ve been doing pretty well so far. I dunno. It was just...bad.”

That was it. Bowie knew Felix had seemed a little off. When Felix mentioned he had ADHD at the start of the season during one of their ‘getting to know your neighbor’ chats, Bowie hadn’t thought much of it. But as they grew closer, he began to notice when Felix forgot to eat or drink, or got overwhelmingly excited about something, or when he suddenly spaced out. It wasn’t just Felix being Felix.

The whole team stepped up and became intensely protective, of course. They not only helped him remember meal times, but also scheduling, directions, and everything in between. Bowie felt especially responsible for reasons he didn’t entirely understand--there was just something about the kid’s sweet heart that struck a chord.

He also knew that Felix was highly emotionally intelligent, but had no concept of whether people liked him or not. He was someone who assumed the worst, all the time. So, Bowie decided to do the only thing he knew would work: after a few more beats of uncomfortable silence, he pulled his phone out, tapped a few buttons, and pressed ‘call’.

“Hey, Remus, are you alive?”

An amused snort came from the speaker even as Felix blanched. “Hello to you, too, Bowie. Jeez, you’re worse than Sirius. I’m one hundred percent alive, just a little swollen. Your rookie’s got a helluva shot, but maybe tell the kid to hit the puck and not my face next time.”

Felix flushed red and put his face between his knees, though hearing the laughter in Remus’s voice and knowing that he was okay clearly took some of the weight off his shoulders. Bowie whooped internally and shot him a quick, reassuring smile.

“Yeah, the kid’s got spirit, but he’s also got ADHD. He’s great most of the time, but sometimes under extreme pressure he can’t figure out where the fuck he--or anything else around him--is. Something about focusing or neurons firing the wrong way, maybe? Either way, it’s why he’s a terrible fuckin’ driver.”

Felix flopped back against the chair with a groan. “How the hell am I supposed to know how far away the cars around me are based on the mirrors? And how am I supposed to park?!”

Remus’s laugh echoed once again. “Don’t ask me, kid, I’m not allowed to drive, either. Not because I’m ADHD, but because I’m terrible at it.”

“You can say that again!” a muffled voice called from behind Remus.

“Please excuse my fiance,” Remus said politely. “He’s a jackass who’s trying to make me lay down again.”

Felix smiled, though it was a bit pained. “I didn’t get a chance to apologize earlier. That stick was totally on me. And--I mean, I heard some of the guys talking afterward and it sounded like you got pretty banged up, so I’m really sorry. Like, really sorry.”

“Hey, woah, you’re fine,” Remus soothed. Bowie recognized his ‘talking to newbies’ voice and hid a smile in the cuff of his hoodie. “It’s the name of the game, after all. Did Bowie ever tell you about the time I accidentally checked him into a wall? Or when I broke his visor with a puck? For context, this was when we were on the same team.”

“Or that time you kicked my legs out from under me and sent me sprawling across the ice during practice.”

“That one was on purpose.”

Bowie glared at the phone, but Felix was snickering and his grin was genuine. It calmed him a bit. “Thanks, Loops.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Remus paused for a moment, then mumbled something inaudible to someone in the background before clearing his throat. “Bowie.”

“Yes?” Remus had never been a wild card, per se, but he certainly had a knack for asking strange questions out of the blue.

“Did you accidentally adopt a child or do my ears deceive me?”

Bowie was about to laugh at the absurdity of it, but then he took a moment to think, looking back and forth between Simon and Felix. “Fuckin’--maybe I did, Re, but he’s ours now. And if that’s the case, I’m going to formally request that you tell your fiance to quit being mean to my son.”

Remus laughed on the other end of the line. “Will do. Felix seems like a sweetheart, I’m glad he’s got you two.”

Bowie nodded with a slight smile, even though Remus couldn’t see him. “So are we. I can practically sense Sirius hovering, so go let your boyfriend fuss over you for a little while.”

An offended noise came from Remus’s side, followed by a lower laugh and the click of the call ending.

Simon looked Felix dead in the eyes. “I’m seconding the ‘kid’ thing. You may just barely be a legal adult, but it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt you. Congrats on your new gay dads.”

Felix’s bright laugh sent a wave of relief through Bowie. “You guys are only, like, eight years older than me.”

“Silence, spawn,” Simon said, pointing a playful finger at him as his grin widened into something sweet and lopsided. “Now both of you need to come eat something. I made cookies while you were getting pushed around for a living.”

Bowie was still worried about Remus’ face--he made a mental note to call the next day to check in--but all his concerns disappeared as Felix scooped the cat up for a snuggle and followed Simon into the kitchen. They may have lost the game, but he would lose a million Cups to keep that moment forever: his Simon fussing over them both, his cat purring in pure bliss, and his kid settling into place at last.

#remus lupin #sirius black #bowie #felix martin #simon #sweater weather #coast to coast #lumosinlove #coops #hockey #adhd #blood on the ice #found family #prohibitionincurls #collab #fanfic #my fic

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fairyavengerwrites · 3 years

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treat you right ⇝ steve rogers

content warning: explicit smut, 18+ MINORS, PLEASE DO NOT ENGAGE. cheating, mild angst and fluff, oral (f recieving), fingering, vaginal fucking, mild size kink, dirty talk (Steve’s apparently freaky) unprotected sex (wrap it up ladies and gentz pls)

pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

word count: 1,859

author’s note: i think this came to me in a dream? so obvs it had to be written. was originally gonna be Bucky but I think it’s Steve’s turn. i happened to write this half delirious in the middle of the night, so even though i’ve checked it like seven times please expect spelling errors!! so... yeah, enjoy!

You let yourself into Steve’s apartment at the compound, knowing that he wouldn’t mind you letting yourself in and waiting for him anyway, not once he saw the state you were in.

You were beside yourself, really, brokenhearted and upset. You’d gone to yours and your boyfriend’s shared apartment after a long day, hoping to surprise him by coming home on time for once, only to find him balls deep in your bed. With the girl he told you not to worry about. And her best friend hovering by them, kissing him and running her hands all over him. You didn’t even let him explain, just beelined out of the apartment, right back to the compound.

Since starting this job, you and Steve had almost become inseparable, and he knew more about you than anyone else on Earth. He’d even known about your relationship troubles, and your suspicions of your boyfriend, advising you on what to do about the situation. Steve had also told you to break up with him, and now you were wondering why you hadn’t listened to him and done it sooner. Oops.

You were already settled on Steve’s sofa, partway through a tub of Ben and Jerry’s when Steve arrived at the apartment, immediately sensing your distraughtness.

“What’s the matter, doll?” He dropped his bag where he stood at the door, kicking his shoes off before striding over and dropping on the sofa next to you. You sniffled, feeling the tears finally brim at your eyes.

“He was cheating on me, Steve,” you answered tearfully, clutching the ice cream closer to you. “I got back to him i-in bed fucking that girl and her friend.”

“Doll,” Steve said gently, extending an arm out to you. You instantly moved into him, burying your head in his chest as you started to sob.

“You were right, Steve,” you hiccuped, muffled by Steve’s shirt and the sobs. He started stroking your hair, staying silent to let you express the emotions you were feeling. “I just- I feel so, so stupid! The signs were there, and I-I tried to be angry, but it still hurts.”

“Of course it will, doll.” Steve’s tone of voice was soothing, calming you down a little. “You were with him a long time.”

“A waste of four years,” you muttered, shuffling so that you sat up properly. “I hate feeling like this, Steve.”

“Well, how about this- a pizza and your favourite movie?” Steve prompted, still softly stroking your hair. You nodded, smiling faintly at him.

“Now you know how to treat a girl right, Steve.”

An hour and a half later, you and Steve were one pizza and half a bottle of your favourite wine down, belittling every single aspect of your former boyfriend.

“And you know what I just cannot get my head around?” you said to Steve, placing your glass down on the coffee table.

“What?” Steve prompted, nodding for you to go on.

“I don’t even know how he was pulling all those girls! I mean, I don’t have any other experience to go on, but by god, he was terrible in bed. I always dreaded it each time.”

“He didn’t please you? Satisfy you?” Steve answered, furrowing his brows. You shook your head. You surprised yourself by how comfortable both you and Steve were discussing this.

“He would just rub me a little and then put in and he was done in five minutes,” you explained, sighing.

“Nothing else? No foreplay?” You shook your head again, grimacing at the lousy memories.

“No. It seemed nice for my first time, but it soon became unexciting.”

“I hate to see you not being treated right, doll,” Steve muttered stroking your cheek. All of a sudden, you became all too aware of your proximity to Steve, and you bet that you were close enough for him to hear your heart pound. The mood in the room had changed like the flip of a switch, and you could feel everything in that room. “You want me to show you how it’s done?” It took you a moment to understand, but you could feel yourself flush as you realised what he meant. You nodded eagerly, moving in just a little bit closer to Steve.

“Use your words, doll, and I promise I’ll make you feel good. Make you forget that bum.” Both his hands cupped your jaw as you barely whimpered, already breathless.

“Steve, I-I want you to m-make me feel good,” you stuttered, clutching onto Steve’s shirt. He flashed you a quick grin before caputring your lips in a passionate kiss, pulling you onto his lap with one muscular arm so that you were straddling him. That same arm kept itself wrapped around your hips, pulling you right up to his chest as he dominated the kiss. Unable to stop yourself, you moaned gently into the kiss, feeling yourself beginning to get wet in your panties. He never made you feel like this, not this fast. It was electrifying and you were loving it.

The hand that had been cupping your jaw moved down to your body, palming your breasts through your shirt. You started to softly roll your clothed core against Steve’s own, your instincts taking over, and you moaned when his teeth pulled on your bottom lip. His large hands temporarily moved from their places to pull your shirt off of you, and he paused to look at you, groaning whilst he unclasped your bra.

“Shit, doll,” he muttered. His hands covered your tits, stroking your peaked nipples. “You’re a goddess.” You gasped when his mouth nibbled on your left nipple, stroking and pinching the other one. You gripped Steve’s broad shoulders harder as you started to roll your hips faster. Then, Steve swiftly flipped you so that you were lying on your back, caging you in his arms. He kissed you again, and your curled your arms around his neck. A moment later, he started making his way down your body, placing light kisses as he moved down you. You whimpered and sighed as you felt the ghost touches in apprehension��of what he was going to do next, your mind marvelling at the possibilities.

Steve worked quickly at your jeans, peeling them off to reveal your panty-clad mound, your wetness leaving an almost embarrassing sized wet spot. Well, you would’ve been embarrassed if you weren’t so lust stricken. Steve groaned at the sight, and in the same moment ripped them of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the example of strength he showed, your hole clenching around nothing.

“You’re so soaked, doll, all for me,” Steve growled, before he dived into your pussy, lapping and sucking like you were his last meal. You had never felt so good in your life, and the sensation was so overwhelmingly delightful.

“Steve!” You moaned, tangling one hand into his hair. The other was clutching onto the sofa cushion for dear life. You could feel the pleasure building itself up and up and you held onto every bit of it.

“Taste so sweet, doll,” Steve muttered, sliding a thick finger into you. His mouth continued its attack on you as his finger started to slide in and out of you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as you let the pleasure take over you, losing yourself in the feeling. You continued to whine, unable to keep yourself still. Steve’s other hand placed itself over your hips to stop them from moving so much when he added a second finger. Then, all of a sudden, you felt immense pleasure wash over you in waves when he forced a third finger inside of you, feeling impossibly stretched, reaching a crescendo as you came. Steve did not stop his violation of you until you stopped squirming about.

“Steve,” you moaned again as his head poked up. He grinned at you, his mouth covered in your juices.

“That was beautiful, doll,” he said, crawling back up your body. “But I’m not done with you yet.” You whimpered, thinking of all the things he could do with you next whilst he started kissing you feverishly once again. You melting into him, hooking your arms and legs around him. You didn’t notice him strip himself of his trousers and pants, but you did feel his heavy, thick cock on your clit, creating friction on your lips as he grinded gently against you.

“Now you tell me if this hurts, doll, ok?” Steve whispered, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. One arm balanced him above you whilst the other lined him up against your hole. You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at Steve. He promptly thrust into you, sliding until he was at full hilt. You gasped, this time uncomfortably as you realised just how big Steve was.

“Want me to wait, doll?” he asked. You nodded, clutching onto Steve. His free hand moved onto your lips, circling your button gently as you forced yourself to relax. Moments later, you felt the ache ebb, and you urged Steve to start moving.

“Please,” you begged, and Steve grinned at you, starting to slowly thrust in and out of you. Your head fell back as the delectable feeling started to roll over you again, clouding your brain. You couldn’t hold back any of the moans you let out, relishing in the heavenly stretch. “Steve!”

“I know, doll. You wanna cum again, huh?” He moved back down to your chest, nibbling on your nipple between words. “I wanna make you cum forever, doll, watch you orgasm over and over.” You couldn’t even respond, lost in the feeling of his cock filling you, reaching every inch of you.

“Fucked you dumb already, haven’t I?” Steve didn’t stop his tirade as he continued rutting, speeding his hips up. “It’s ok, doll, I’ll keep ya stuffed as long as you want me.” You were near sobbing, screaming as another orgasm neared you. You never realised sex could feel this good, that it was supposed to feel this good. He was right, you never wanted to stop.

“You gonna cum for me again, doll?” Steve asked, and you nodded eagerly, wanting it more than anything in your entire life. “Go on, then, doll. Cum.” His other hand, the one on your clit, moved faster, adding to your pleasure as you let it wash over you once again, this time wailing as you finished for the second time that night.

“Steve!” You cried, chanting his name over and over as he started snapping his hips faster.

“So beautiful, doll. Gotta fill you up now, though, make you mine,” he growled. You were tender as he kept moving, chasing his own orgasm. You laid there, spent but satisfied as he stilled in you, finally cumming himself, filling you as promised and groaning your name. He stayed there, hovering over you and kissing you anew.

“Steve,” you moaned gently. “That was.. that was so good.” You chuckled, throwing your head down.

“Hey, doll?” Steve asked, and you hummed to let him continue. “I should’ve asked this first, but let me take you out tomorrow. On a date.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #captain america #captain america x reader #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu smut #mcu fic #reader insert #chris evans smut

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the-widow-sisters · 3 years

Text

Tracing My Love

Summary: When Yelena is bored one day, Natasha asks Yelena to lay her head on Natasha's lap. Yelena is confused until her sister introduces her to a gentle activity that fully satiates the touch-starved beast within Yelena. Just innocent sister fluff.

Word Count: 2093

“I’m bored,” Yelena whined, drawing the last word out in a much too dramatic fashion. She could feel Natasha’s gaze upon her as she looked up from the book that she had stuffed her nose into.

“Go for a run,” Natasha suggested, and Yelena shook her head from her position on the other side of the couch, just groaning loudly.

“It’s too hot and miserable for that,” Yelena informed her, looking at her older sister and taking in the unhidden grin spreading across the redhead’s face.

“You could get one of those nasty slushie things you like,” Natasha spoke, and Yelena scoffed immediately in reply.

“The store is not open on Sundays. Besides, the slushies are a delicacy. Second only to vodka,” Yelena informed her, and Natasha just grinned a bit wider, a laugh rising in her throat, and Yelena felt quite satisfied with herself for bringing such emotion to the redhead.

“So that must be why you like them,” Natasha suddenly piped up in response. Yelena shifted her gaze to her in slight confusion.

“What?” Yelena asked, suspicion in her voice as she noted how smug and pleased that Natasha sounded with herself. She had to admit that it was quite nice to have the privilege of hearing Natasha’s voice in such a pleasing, happy tone.

“You must be mixing vodka in so you can’t taste the actual slushie,” Natasha told her, keeping her voice perfectly level, and Yelena narrowed her eyes a little in a playful glare. Natasha’s light greens were sparkling with mirth as she glanced up from the book.

“Ha,” Yelena just faked a short bark of laughter.

“There’s food in the kitchen,” Natasha suggested, and Yelena just pouted a little in response to the statement.

“There is no sour cream and onion chips,” Yelena shot down her sister’s proposal,

“I bought some for you yesterday.”

“Yeah, about that… I finished the bag yesterday,” Yelena admitted with a slight grin, completely unashamed of her feat, and Natasha’s eyes widened a little

“Seriously?!” Natasha questioned, some surprise in her voice as she looked up from her novel once again to gaze at Yelena.

“What?! I’m a growing girl, you know!” Yelena defensively declared, and Natasha just shook her head with mock disappointment.

“If you keep downing a whole bag of potato chips all at one time, you’re going to grow. Not sure if you’re going to like how you do, though,” Natasha commented, raising her eyebrows.

Yelena brought her foot up, gently kicking Natasha’s arm that was holding up the book. However, she overdramatically did it, so it looked like she was putting more effort into it than she actually was. Natasha skillfully kept her hold on the book, just trading hands as she kept reading.

Yelena groaned before scooting over closer to Natasha, her eyes locked onto the side of Natasha’s face. She eased ever nearer to the redhead, and she finally was close enough to rest her chin on Natasha’s shoulder as she lazily raked her gaze over the words inside the book, not truly reading any of it. Natasha raised an eyebrow, craning her neck slightly and looking down at the blonde.

Yelena just shifted her honey-green eyes upward to meet Natasha’s.

“What are you reading?” Yelena questioned curiously, and Natasha huffed a little. She delivered a swift, soft kiss to the center of Yelena’s forehead before looking back down at the book.

“Probably nothing you’re going to find interesting.”

“Try me,” Yelena challenged, and Natasha simply looked down at the younger girl with blatant skepticism evident in her stare.

“I will have you know that I am very educated in the world of literary… ness,” Yelena proclaimed, her voice a little uncertain despite the bravado she forced into it. Natasha just chuckled fondly, shaking her head a little.

“It’s Gone with the Wind,” Natasha told her, and Yelena wrinkled her nose with disgust. She tilted her head, trying to get a better look at the cover. She scoffed as she spotted a man and a woman on the front in a loving embrace.

“Are you sure this is appropriate reading material?” Yelena asked, trying and failing to hold back the laugh in her voice. Natasha raised an eyebrow with slight confusion, not exactly understanding Yelena’s mirth.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“It looks like it has some… adult themes,” Yelena suggestively spoke, waggling her eyebrows ridiculously, and Natasha finally flipped the book to actually take the time to look at the cover. She quickly caught on, just laughing at the younger girl. Yelena chuckled but awaited an answer.

“No, no, none of that. Just pure romance. Not anything too out there.”

“Ick. Sounds sappy,” Yelena blew her off, her chin still resting on Natasha’s shoulder heavily, and she noticed out of her peripheral vision that Natasha was rolling her eyes in reply to her.

“Natashka, I’m bored,” Yelena drew the words out tiredly, unable to think of anything she wanted to do and hoping that her awesome big sister would think of something. Natasha finally put down the book on the table nearby, pursing her lips ever so slightly as she grew lost in thought.

After a painstakingly long moment of this, Natasha seemed almost as if she had settled upon something or came to some conclusion or another. She looked at Yelena and shifted slightly so that Yelena would raise her head from its place on her shoulder. Yelena felt the need to complain about the loss of her comfy place, but she held her tongue, curious as to what Natasha was coming up with.

Natasha looked at her for a long moment before finally speaking.

“Lay down,” Natasha patted her lap, and Yelena started to do it without question, eager to take advantage of her sister’s offered affections. However, she quickly paused in the middle of her movements, looking at Natasha skeptically.

“Wait… Why?” Yelena asked, and Natasha rolled her eyes fondly, nothing but warmth in her eyes.

“Just do it,” Natasha told her, and Yelena hesitantly complied, not sure what to expect but trusting Natasha nevertheless. She was not sure if she was being lured into a tickle trap so she carefully kept her arms clamped to her sides once her head was in Natasha’s lap.

“Relax. No tickle fights,” Natasha assured her, and Yelena loosened, hearing the genuineness in the redhead’s voice. She hesitantly slid her arms up so that they were resting on either side of her head and across Natasha’s lap.

To her surprise, Natasha rolled up the back of her shirt, and Yelena stiffened just barely. She quickly loosened up, though, trusting Natasha wholeheartedly. Before she could ask what the older woman was doing, she suddenly felt feather-light touches raking across her back gently.

She almost shivered from the feeling, and her eyes were open wide as Natasha’s digits tickled barely along her back, tender across her skin.

“I’m going to trace a word on your back, and you’ve got to tell me what it is,” Natasha explained, her voice soft and quiet, and Yelena just nodded barely, worried that if she even breathed wrong that the attentions would stop. The ministrations were unlike anything she had ever felt, and it made her mind completely overload with the sensations of the most trusted person in her life touching her so lovingly and so gently.

Y-E-L-E-N-A.

Natasha stopped once she had spelled it out, and it took Yelena a painfully long moment to respond to the redhead as she tried to get her thoughts back in order from the overwhelmingly kind touches.

“Yelena,” Yelena answered softly, finding herself eager for the next word that would be traced if only to feel Natasha’s gentle fingers running across her back.

“Good job,” Natasha softly praised, and Yelena felt her chest constricting with something that was so purely the love of an adoring little sister that thought her older sister’s praise was as valuable as the air she breathed. Of course, she would never admit this to herself, but it nevertheless was an emotion that was coursing through every fiber of her being.

“Two words this time,” Natasha explained quietly, and Yelena almost impatiently awaited her sister’s tender touches.

S-W-E-E-T.

G-I-R-L.

“Sweet girl?” Yelena asked, almost embarrassed as she uttered one of Natasha’s special nicknames for her.

“That’s it,” Natasha quietly agreed, and Yelena felt herself melting even further with the love in her voice.

It was all that Yelena had ever wanted in her life. She had just wanted her sister’s affection, approval, and love. While she felt ridiculous on one hand for finding such satisfaction and pure happiness from a silly game like this, on the other hand it was something she craved deeply.

Natasha soon started writing again.

L-A-P-O-C-H-K-A.

“Lapochka,” Yelena affirmed, feeling a slight smile coming to her face, and Natasha chuckled warmly.

“Thought I’d switch languages and make it a little more complicated,” Natasha told her, and her voice was filled with nothing but affection. Yelena felt herself inflating a little with the loving, proud tone in Natasha’s voice. She knew she had really accomplished nothing significant, but it was still a huge deal to her that Natasha approved even of something as dumb as guessing a word right.

Natasha traced another word on her back, and Yelena concentrated on it carefully.

“Rooskaya,” Yelena acknowledged, and Natasha swept a hand across her back as if she were erasing the word. Yelena closed her eyes, enjoying the contact from someone that she trusted so deeply.

“I,” Yelena read once Natasha wrote and paused for a while. It was confusing to her, and she did not know what exactly Natasha meant by just one letter.

Natasha swept a hand across her and started again. Yelena furrowed her brow as she felt the letters across her back.

“Love,” Yelena spoke, and Natasha started writing again, her finger moving carefully along Yelena’s skin.

“You,” Yelena finished, and she quickly realized that Natasha had written her a message. Goosebumps covered Yelena’s back, and Yelena moved her head so that her chin was on top of Natasha’s leg. She looked up at the redhead, feeling her heart overflowing with pure adoration. Natasha was looking down at her softly, her eyes warm with care.

Yelena felt her lips tugging down at the corners just a little, and she valiantly fought the tears of love, happiness, and awe that were threatening to come over her. She moved a bit closer to Natasha, burying her face into the redhead’s stomach and wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist slowly and tightly.

She ordinarily would not have cried at her sister telling her that she loved her, but somehow, this time felt so much more meaningful. It was through that physical contact and affection that Yelena so craved and needed, and the fact that Natasha had somehow combined verbal and physical methods to tell her how she felt was almost more than Yelena could take.

“Ya tebya lyublyu, Natashka,” Yelena spoke against Natasha, and Natasha ran her fingers through Yelena’s hair before gently pulling Yelena’s shirt back down over her back.

“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu, milaya devushka,” Natasha reciprocated, and Yelena just pressed herself against Natasha harder, feeling her body as it moved with her breaths.

After a long moment of this and when Yelena was sure she could trust her voice again, she pulled away from Natasha and rolled over so that she was laying on her back with her head in Natasha’s lap.

“Wait… Isn’t it your turn?” Yelena questioned softly with a slight quirk of her eyebrow, trying to convey more chill about this whole thing than she was really feeling. Natasha chuckled a little, reciprocating the eyebrow raise.

“Sure,” Natasha replied easily, and Yelena sat up from her place in Natasha’s lap and straightening her legs on the couch so that Natasha could lay across her. Yelena just watched her expectantly, and Natasha smiled softly before laying her head down in Yelena’s lap carefully, her arms brought up so that her hands could gently hold onto Yelena’s leg.

Yelena softly pulled back Natasha’s shirt and looked down at the slightly scarred canvas before her. She quietly thought for a moment before a wicked smirk came onto her face. She began to trace the word.

Natasha was quiet for a moment, and Yelena finally reached the last letter, waiting eagerly for Natasha’s response. Sure enough, Natasha quickly caught on, and she spun on her side, looking up at Yelena with mock offense.

“Poser?!”

Yelena just cackled.

#yelena belova #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #widow sisters #black widow #black widow 2021 #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfic #black widow fic #black widow fanfic #friendship #family #platonic #touch starved #sisters #fluff

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in-ky · 3 years

Text

An Old Scent [3] - Negan x Reader (A/B/O AU)

Summary: During summer break, you decide to come back home to visit your dad, Rick. Over the course of your stay, you realize that your dad's friend is pretty hot.

Warnings: Getting steamy, A/B/O dynamics, age gap, Negan

A/N: part 3 is shorter im sorry but its basically a segway 1.3k words

I was a whimpering mess that day. The fading sunlight peaked through my closed blinds but it still pierced my vision and gave me a pounding headache. My heat was starting to run its course, and I was not looking forward to it. Rick had gotten called to a new case, one that would be taking up most of his attention for the next few days. Unfortunately, that just left me and Negan in the house alone. There was no doubt in my mind he could smell the slick forming between my thighs. I heard him get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs, grumbling to himself. He didn't come back up.

I rolled over and grabbed my phone, hissing gently at the light. I eased myself back onto my pillows, stifling a groan as my legs rubbed together. My fingers swiftly found the contact I was searching for and I pressed the call button, lifting the phone to my ear as I let it ring.

"Hey, what's up? You haven't called in a while, is everything alright?" Bee asked, voice thick with sleep.

"No." I whimpered into the speaker.

"Oh, honey," Bee hummed "You started didn't you." All I could do was groan as a wave of abdominal cramps hit me. "Do you have-"

"They aren't going to help!" I hissed "I need him, Bee, I need...I can smell him." I took a deep inhale. My eyes rolled to the back of my skull as the warm scent of Negan filled my nostrils. It seeped into my sinuses and settled like a pit in the bottom of my stomach. The smell of him urged a new wave of wetness to gush out of my center. "I need him, Bee."

"Hey, listen to me, this is dangerous," She called to me. I could barely hear her over the heat clouding my head. "I know it's hard but you need to cool off. The fever can be deadly." I moaned and buried myself deeper into my sweat-soaked sheets. Bee swallowed over the other end of the phone. "Can you get out of bed? Can you make it to the shower?" I cried out. It was so hot. It was so painful. I felt so empty, a deep void inside me that only Negan could fill. "Omega." Bee demanded, her voice firm. My attention snapped to her. "Take a shower."

~~~

As much as I hated to admit it, Bee had been right once again. The freezing shower had cooled me off enough that I had regained some form of self-control. I wasn't a feral beast begging to be knotted, but I wouldn't stay that way for long. I got out of the tub and shivered, lips borderline purple from the cold. I grabbed the soft cotton towel hanging on the rack and wrapped it around me, drying off the remaining droplets of water. I hadn't brought any clothes with my to the bathroom knowing that they would be coming off in a few hours anyways. But the laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom caught my eye. I clenched my jaw and swallowed. At the top there was a white shirt and a pair of black boxers haphazardly draped over the side of the basket. I instantly knew who they belonged to. And just like that, the cramping had returned.

At that point, I decided to just give in to my omega impulses. I crossed the room to the hamper, wet feet patting against the tile floor. I dropped the towel and fisted the fabric in the basket. I dropped to my knees instantly and buried my nose in the shirt.

"Alpha." I groaned, tossing my head back and rubbing the cloth over my neck. It was drenched in his scent. Almost overwhelmingly so. If I couldn't have Negan himself, his clothes would have to do. I pulled his shirt over my head and around my body. It was large on me and I could see the tops of my breasts as well as the outlines of my hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric. I put on his boxers next, covering my naked sex. The thought of the underwear previously being on Negan made my insides quiver and my pussy throb. I felt another rush of slick leave me. I rubbed my thighs together, trying to ease some of my arousal, but it was in vain. Truly nothing would compare to having the alpha's knot buried inside of me. I let out a moan of want, rubbing my face and inhaling his scent. But my old methods would have to do. The unbearable arousal was starting to come back and I desperately needed a release. Back to my bedroom I went.

I twisted the knob of the bathroom door and swung it open, flicking the light switch off as I stepped into the hall. As soon as my feet felt the carpet, I froze. There before me was Negan, paused mid-step at the top of the stairs. Our gazes met and my insides burned. His tawny eyes were dark with lust behind his black-framed glasses. He gripped the railing so hard his knuckled were white and his jaw was clenched. The alpha broke eye contact and his gaze raked over my body, drinking in every detail.

"Are those my clothes?" He growled. His voice combined with the embarrassment of the situation made a blush rise to my cheeks. I swallowed thickly.

"Maybe." I whispered. Negan walked up to me slowly, large frame shadowing my smaller one. He leaned in and tucked his nose into the crook of my neck. He took a deep breath and we moaned in unison.

"Fuck, doll, you smell so good," He rumbled, calloused hand winding around my throat "like peaches and lavender. Even better with my scent around you." My breath rattled at his words, insides turning like a whirlpool. There had to be a visible wet spot on the crotch of his boxers, but he didn't seem to notice. Not yet, anyways. "I wonder if you taste the same." His fingers danced up my neck and gripped my chin softly, angling my face up to look at him. Negan's eyes were wild, a tumultuous mix of lust and protectiveness storming in those deep brown pools. My breathing hitched as he leaned in. His lips were almost brushing mine. My heart was pounding against my ribcage, begging to be let free. A whimper was caught in my throat. I wanted to beg for him, plead for his knot. I wanted to be claimed and dominated by him. And I think I would have been if the door didn't open at that moment.

"Guys, I'm home!" Rick's voice chirped from downstairs.

Negan's head whipped around and I took the moment of distraction to slip away from his grasp. I slid against the wall and scurried to my room, closing the door behind me. I pressed my shoulder against the wood and sunk to the ground, trying to regain my breath. Did that actually just happen? Did Negan really just try and kiss me? I closed my eyes and swallowed. My throat was dry but Negan's boxers were absolutely drenched in my arousal. I had never been that close to him before and now that I was away, my body craved more. A soft knock sounded above me.

"Hey sweetheart," Negan's voice purred from the other side of the door "you can keep the clothes for a few days, but I want them back when you're done. You hear that, 'mega?" I whined as a form of affirmation and I heard him chuckle, the noise sending bursts of warmth through my belly. "That's a good girl. Call me if you need anything." He took an audible sniff before I heard his footsteps retreat slightly.

"Hey, is she alright?" Rick asked, voice muffled.

"Yea, I think she might be...having some omega problems," Negan explained gently.

"Ah, got it," Rick gulped "I feel bad but I'm still the primary on the case. Do you think you can look after her for the next few days?" I could practically hear Negan's smirk as he spoke his next works.

"Abso-fuckin-lutely I can."

#negan x you #negan x y/n #negan x reader #negan smith #alpha!negan #omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #twd a/b/o #a/b/o kink

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urimaginespimp · 3 years

Text

Last Kiss (This Love pt 6)

Bucky x reader (elemental witch)

Set on Endgame.

Note: This one is a rollercoaster of emotions

previous part

--------

Fear was creeping up within you as you stared at Thanos’ army approaching definitely outnumbering you and the rest of the team. Nevertheless, you were ready to fight in honor of Nat. The wound in your heart from losing her is too fresh.

But before you knew it, a golden ring, followed by another one after another started appearing behind you, and you were too struck to move when one by one, everyone who disappeared five years ago started walking out.

And then you see him, weapon in hand, ready to finish the fight.

The fear within you was long gone, and was suddenly replaced with hope.

--------

Everybody was working together in the fight. You were holding your own pretty well, just killing any one of Thanos’ army near you or overwhelmingly attacking anyone else on your side. You paused for a second to catch your breath when a voice spoke behind you.

“Can’t you look ugly for once, doll? I mean we’re in a middle of a fight and you still look like an angel.” You turned and faced a panting Bucky. He was still holding a weapon, dirt and dried blood on him, but he was giving you a small grin.

Your eyes welled in tears as you take him in. Hell, you don’t know what to say...

“I-”

But before you could finish embarrassing yourself before the man you’ve been waiting on for five years, he closed the space between you and captured you in a kiss.

His lips were softer than you’ve imagined them to be, but before you could even comprehend what was going on, he broke away.

“Buck-” you whispered.

“Just wanted to do that in case I turn to dust again.” he whispered with a shit-eating grin, before turning back to fighting.

You chuckled, shaking your head to not get too distracted from that welcomed rude interruption and went back to fighting.

---------

Nat and Tony. Two of the first Midgardians you’ve met, and now you swore to hold in your heart forever.

It was just a little while after the funeral when you decided to sit with Tony’s daughter Morgan, and Happy.

“You’re Y/N.” She gazed up to you with wonder behind her eyes.

“Yeah, I was your dad’s friend.” you smiled, looking down next to you where she sat. You didn’t know Tony talked about any of you to her.

“He said you would be the best one to build forts with and that he didn’t like your boyfriend.” She tilted her head to the side, reminding you of Tony’s mannerisms.

“I uh... don’t have a boyfriend.” you coughed awkwardly.

“That’s ok, I’m not allowed to have one too.” she gave you a toothy grin. Happy and you exchanged looks.

“Is it Jesus with the robot arm? I saw him staring at you.” She asked you with no hesitation, prompting Happy to stand before you two.

“Yeah, that’s enough. Wanna get that cheeseburger now?” He offered his hand to her, which she took happily and said a quick bye to you.

You made a mental note to pay them a visit someday. Standing up from the seat, you walked down and stopped by the lake when Steve approached you, now in his suit.

“I saw the punk finally kissed you.” He smiled at you.

“We haven’t really talked about it yet. A funeral is hardly the best setting for it.” you shrugged.

“I hope that was the end of you being dumbasses around each other.” he nudged your shoulder, chuckling.

“I don’t know, Steve. I quiet enjoy making you want to pull out that golden hair of yours.” You smirked at him.

“Take care of each other, okay?” He faced you now, making you turn his way as well in confusion.

You were about to ask him why he was talking like he was leaving for good when it clicked. He smiled at you when he saw the realization dawn on you.

“Take care of us yourself, coward.” You smirked, but your eyes were also tearing up. Steve was leaving too.

“I just lifted your father’s hammer.” he feigned offense, and took a step closer to you, taking you in his free arm. “I love you, kid. Despite how much you like making my old heart uncomfortable sometimes.” you felt him kiss the top of your head.

“Again, I called you ‘daddy’ once and it was out of a dare.” you weakly punched his chest. “I love you too, old man. No matter how boring your war stories are.”

Breaking away from him, you wiped the stray tear on your cheek. “Go get that dance.” you smiled genuinely at him, which he returned.

“What, no last snarky remark to remember you by?” he teased, making you roll your eyes at him.

“Don’t break a hip doing so.”

“There we go.”

--------

“Are you sure you wanna stay?” Thor asked you for the third time.

“I don’t like space that much.” you smiled at him. He decided that he was gonna join Quill and the rest of the group. “And with the amount of people who just missed 5 years, I wanna help them get back on their feet.”

“And the old man?”

“Father, I’m older than him.” you reminded. He still couldn’t accept it when Mantis pointed out to him that you have sexual love for the man with the lomg hair and metal arm. He was acting like a protective father.

“If he hurts you, you tell me.”

“Do you have a phone now? A computer?”

“No, what for?” He laughed at you.

“You’ll hear from me through Rocket.” you promised. “You guys take care of yourselves, ok?” and he assured you with a nod.

Throwing your arms around him, you promised to take care of New Asgard, and to stay out of trouble. Your father sealed his departure with a kiss on your temple and a promise to visit you when he can.

--------

You were now walking around the property, exchanging greetings and goodbyes to the people who were still there while looking for Bucky, when you finally see him walking around aimlessly. And as if sensing your eyes on him, he looked your way.

You tried to give him a smile, and you were confused when he didn’t return it, just nodded at you and walked the other way.

You decided to follow him. Catching up, you were now only a few steps away from him when you called him.

“Buck are you okay?” you asked him, concern lacing your voice.

Stopping on his tracks, he turned around to face you with a serious expression.

“Steve left.” He stated looking at you with a frown etched on his forehead.

You nodded as a reply. You couldn’t begin to think how he was feeling.

“You know, it seems that everyone else already knows which path to take next except me. All I’ve been doing is jumping from one fight to another.” He started to rant.

“Wakanda-”

“Y/N I was hiding in Wakanda. I need... I want to start finding myself now that I’m recovered. And let's face it. You need it too. We can’t keep living in a sanctuary. And I just think I can’t start fresh when I’m around people who would remind me even the tiniest of my parts as the winter soldier.” you were still trying to wrap your head around what he was saying when he spoke again.

“I’m sorry for kissing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” he looked anywhere but you, but his face was contoured with certainty.

“Buck what are you saying?” deep down you knew. You just didn’t want to believe it.

“I’m saying I’m letting you go, Y/N.” He said, his eyes finally meeting yours. “Take care of yourself.” he finished, and turned away again, starting to walk away.

“Bucky I...” You wanted to tell him. To just let it finally out, but now something in you, maybe a little anger, stopped you from making any more of a fool of yourself.

But it didn't go unheard by the super soldier as he turned to look at you one last time.

“I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry but I can’t... I can’t love you the way you'd hope me to. You’ll see that I’m right someday, and you’ll thank me for it.” He gave you one last sad attemot of a smile, before finally leaving you, glued to where you were standing, unable to fathom what just happened while simultaneously feeling a part of you just... break.

--------

(set a little into TFATWS finally)

WARNING: Mention of assault. Look out for *(start) and ** (end)

Six months. It’s been six months since you’ve last seen him. And every day it was getting harder to keep yourself from finally admitting to yourself that you’re mad at him.

True to your promise to Thor, you were taking care of the people of Asgard, using some of the wealth him left you with to send some of the younger ones to school, and with the help of Pepper, even buy some shares of some companies. To say the New Asgard was doing well would be an understatement. The people were merely taking up jobs out of interest.

Val as usual, saw through you. She told you it was okay to be mad – that it was a stepping point to start moving on.

“Come on Y/N. The dude kissed you and changed his mind just like that. I would’ve broken his nose if I were you.” She told you one night after catching you looking at a photo of him given to you by Steve. “You can’t tell me you’re not holding even just a tiny grudge.”

“Okay, if it makes you feel any better, I am holding a little resentment.” you shrugged at her, making her reply ‘good enough’.

You just didn’t think it was going to end that way for you both. And now you were wishing you’ve taken those 5 years as an opportunity to rid of any romantic feelings you had for him. Maybe then it wouldn’t have hurt at all when he left.

You tried to ask Sam a number of times if he had any idea how he was doing, but he’d say that Bucky kept ignoring his texts.

For a few weeks every night, you’d been wearing one of the only shirts he owned back in Wakanda. And before you sleep, you think of the image you’ve engraved in your mind – him sleeping peacefully next to you in Wakanda, just after a nightmare. Then you’ll wake up the next morning hoping he’d have a good day, and that maybe something would remind him of you and make him wish he’d stayed. And It went that way over and over, until one distinct night.

There was knocking on your door late at night, waking you up from your sleep. Opening the door, you were met with three of the women you know, holding up a younger one who was crying and shaking in shock.

They explained that she’d been close to getting assaulted after a night of partying and losing sight of her friends. Thankfully the three women found her and were able to pry the man away. But what was worse was that this wasn’t the first time something like that happened.

Save the world once or twice, there would still be shitty people. That was what you realized that night.

So maybe he was right. You realized that what the Avengers taught you about Midgard didn’t cover much of the shitty things that happen frequently to innocent people.

And that was when you decided to replace nights off wallowing in self-pity, with going out at night, staying in clubs or hanging out in its bathrooms, just making sure everybody was safe. And soon enough, crime rate at night in your area reduced significantly.

Maybe if you divert your attention to literally anything else besides the man, you’d actually get over him.

All was well until one morning as you were kicking off the heels and taking of your dress from the night before to finally get some sleep, the tv you had on flashed something that caught your attention.

A stranger holding Steve’s Shield was being called the new Captain America.

What the actual fuck?

--------

@eternalharry @iheartsebandchris @lizzarooni @the-ayo-lit @tanyaherondale @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul

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lewishamil10n · 3 years

Note

Please please please make that "Sam wouldn't wake up" into a full fic!!! (If u don't want to that's totally fine, I mean no pressure at all :)) it's just suuuuper good :D

[Sam wouldn't wake up.]

—

"What do you mean Sam's gone to see Jody?" Dean asked, frowning. "He called me a few hours ago and said he was going to go to bed."

"She had an emergency," Castiel said. He wasn't meeting Dean's eyes, which Dean found strange. This was Castiel — the dude often had to be reminded that humans didn't like being stared at intensely.

"Such as?" he asked.

"Sam didn't say," Castiel answered evasively.

"Weird," muttered Dean. He moved into his bedroom and put his bag down on his bed. "You know what, I'm gonna call him. Just check in, see what's up."

Castiel hesitated at the doorway. "I'm sure he's fine, Dean," he said. "Sam is a grown man. He doesn't need you checking on him all the time."

"I know that," Dean said, trying not to snap. It had been a long drive after an exhausting hunt, and he'd hated having to leave Sam behind. But Sam had been sick, practically delirious with fever and no good on a hunt, and so Dean had reluctantly left him in Castiel's care. He'd spent the entire trip worrying himself sick over his brother, calling to talk to him as much as he could. He'd broken damn near fifty laws speeding on his way back, and now Sam wasn't even home and Castiel was being weird.

Something wasn't right.

He fished his phone out of his pocket and hit Sam's latest number on speed dial. The entire time he was aware of Castiel watching him, eyes narrowed, and if Dean didn't know better he'd say the angel seemed apprehensive.

Two seconds of dial tone later, Dean heard Sam's ringtone. It was coming from somewhere within the bunker, which made no sense. Sam wouldn't have left home without his cell phone. "What the hell," muttered Dean, leaving his room so he could follow the sound. Castiel trailed after him, quiet.

The ringtone was issuing from Sam's room, his phone vibrating on his side table. Dean watched it ring for a second before hanging up on his end. "Sam wouldn't leave his phone," he said.

"He left in a hurry," Castiel said. "Perhaps he forgot."

"Then I'll call Jody," decided Dean.

"No!" exclaimed Castiel, and cringed when Dean turned to glare at him.

"What the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Cas, where's my brother?"

"Jody—" began Castiel weakly, but Dean cut him off.

"I think it's quite clear that's not what's happening," he snapped. "Or do you want me to call and confirm it?"

For a few moments Castiel just looked at him, posture tense and hands flexing, and then he said, "I do not know where Sam is. I came to his room and found him missing."

"Then why didn't you just say that in the first place?" asked Dean angrily. "Why did you lie to me?"

Castiel hesitated.

"Fuck's sake, Cas!" Dean threw his phone in the general direction of Sam's bed, where it bounced off a pillow to land on the floor. Paying it no mind, he ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his brain to work.

All of Sam's things were still in his room. His jacket slung over the back of his chair; boots at the foot of his bed; travel bag in its place; and of course, his cell phone on the table. It didn't look as if Sam had gone anywhere. He might as well have gone to the bathroom.

"How long has he been missing for?" Dean asked.

"I'm not sure," Castiel said after a beat. "I returned to his room to find him gone a few hours ago. I had checked on him some time before that and he'd been asleep."

Sam's bed was unmade. If Sam had gone anywhere of his own volition, he would have made his bed, he would have taken his things, he would have told Dean. Dean had no idea what the hell was going on, and it didn't help that his tired brain was barely able to process his brother's absence.

"Okay, okay, focus," he murmured to himself, his hands curling into fists. This was basic. Finding a missing person. Something he could do in his sleep. What had Dad taught them? Clues. Look for clues. He'd done that.

Tracking spells. John had taught them some, and Sam knew a whole lot more too. Dean was sure that if he looked, he'd find something that could help.

"Okay," he said again, and began looking around for something he could use. Sam's DNA would be perfect, but if not that, then something he owned could do as well — and there, a few strands of long brown hair on Sam's pillow. Dean picked them up carefully, wrapping them in his handkerchief, and he stowed it safely in his pocket before turning and striding out of Sam's room.

"Where are you going?" Castiel called after him, hurrying to catch up.

"To find my brother," Dean answered with determination, heading straight for the library. Not for the first time he felt glad for Sam's overwhelmingly obsessive need to organize everything — it would make looking for spells a lot easier. He supposed he could always call Rowena too, but he'd rather leave that as a last resort. She was an ally and Sam trusted her, but the less people knew about his disappearance, the better.

"Are you going to track him?" asked Castiel, watching as Dean flipped through a book of spells.

Dean muttered an affirmative, eyes on the yellowed pages in front of him.

"What if it doesn't work?" Castiel asked.

"Why wouldn't it work?" countered Dean. "We've got ingredients for pretty much everything, and I've got what I need for the spell to track Sam."

"Just a possibility," murmured Castiel.

Dean didn't want to think about that, so he focused his energies on going through the book. He found a spell soon enough, and felt an almost overwhelming rush of affection for his brother when he saw the notes Sam had put in the margins. Even when he wasn't there, he was helping Dean out, making his life easier.

"Are you going to stand there and keep staring, or are you planning on making yourself useful?" he asked Castiel, who started as if he'd been jolted out of a reverie.

"Of course, Dean, tell me what you need," he said, straightening.

Dean handed him a list of the ingredients they'd need for the spell. "We've got most of these in the stores, but I'll need you to find the pigeon wishbone. I don't think we have that."

Castiel squinted down at the list, and then looked up at Dean. "Of course, Dean," he said again. "I will do my best."

"Cool," said Dean gruffly. "Hurry."

"Yes, I will." Castiel turned to go, and then paused. "Dean, if there is anything you want to talk about — I understand you must be worried and afraid. I just want you to know I am here for you no matter what."

"Thanks?" Dean said, after a moment. "That's really nice, Cas, but I'm all right. I just need to find Sam, and I'll be peachy."

For a nanosecond Dean thought he saw frustration cross Castiel's face, but it was gone before he could be sure. Castiel's expression was impassive as he said, "I understand," and turned his back on Dean.

—

It took Castiel around ten hours to locate and acquire a pigeon wishbone, during which time Dean got the spell set up and ready to go. He put the ingredients in the bowl as Castiel watched, and read the words from the book exactly as Sam instructed in his notes. He added Sam's hair to it and said some more words, and put the edge of a map to the flames arising in the bowl. He watched as the map burnt up, little flames traveling around the edges of the paper and eating it up until there was nothing left.

The spell didn't work.

"Fuck," snarled Dean, throwing his hand out and sweeping everything to the floor in his anger. "Fuck, how did it not work? How—" He rounded on Castiel. "Pigeon wishbone, are you sure it was pigeon wishbone? The real deal?"

Castiel looked taken aback at being questioned like this. "Of course I am, Dean. I verified what it was before bringing it to you."

Dean stared at him for a few moments, and then turned away. His heart was racing. With each hour away from Sam, it felt like he was losing years off his own lifespan. "I'm calling Rowena," he muttered, grabbing his cell phone off the floor.

"Isn't there anything else we can try?" Castiel asked, looking at the mess Dean had made of the war room.

"There is. I'm doing it," Dean told him, phone held to his ear as he waited for Rowena to pick up.

The phone kept ringing. She did not answer. Dean tried again, and then a third time. Nothing. It was as if he was dialing a dead end, which he knew was not possible because Rowena had sworn that that number would reach her no matter what. He knew that she wouldn't be reached if she didn't want to be — but it had been a long time since Rowena had felt the need to hide from the Winchesters.

Dean hung up and threw his phone into the nearest wall. It broke apart, screen cracking and the casing coming off, and Dean felt a second of vicious satisfaction before it immediately turned to regret. Shit, what if Sam tried calling that number? What if Rowena called back? Fuck. Sam could call and call and Dean wouldn't know, because all his other numbers redirected to this one, and— and he wouldn't know if Sam needed him.

Overcome suddenly with fatigue, Dean collapsed into the nearest chair. It felt like his legs were giving out on him, his entire body reacting to the events of the last few hours. Sam was gone, Rowena wasn't picking up the phone, and Dean had no idea where to even begin looking. He could feel the stress and lack of sleep catching up with him, and for the first time, it was mixed in with fear. Yeah, he was perfectly aware Sam could more than look after himself. But fuck, he was still Dean's little brother, and he was sick, he'd been coughing up a lung the last time they'd spoken on the phone—

"I shouldn't have left him," he said, and wasn't surprised to hear how hoarse his voice was. "God, I should have just — just stayed, and—"

"Dean. You can't blame yourself." Castiel sounded earnest, and was looking at Dean with pleading eyes. "You are a hunter, and you were doing your duty. Sam is not a child that needs looking after."

"Why do you keep saying that, man?" questioned Dean, suddenly annoyed. "I know he's not a kid, Cas. He's survived more than you and I put together, more than we could even imagine on our worst days. But he's my little brother, okay? He's all I've got, so forgive me for worrying about him!"

"Why do you say he's all you've got?" Now Castiel sounded irritated too. "Am I not here with you, Dean? Have I not been here for you whenever you've needed me?"

"Uh." Dean paused, taken aback. Castiel seemed... well, if Dean had to pick a word, he'd say jealous. Castiel seemed jealous. "Dude. You know what I meant," he said, watching the angel carefully. "'Course you've been here too. But Sam's different. You know that."

"Different?" repeated Castiel. "All the pain he has caused you, and you still care so much for him."

"All the pain — what are you talking about?" This was getting too damn confusing, and Dean needed a drink. He needed some rest. He needed — God, he needed his little brother back.

"You know what I'm talking about," Castiel said, almost snappishly.

"No, I don't," Dean said.

There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The air between them felt charged, almost electric. It felt like one wrong move, one misplaced word, and lightning would strike. The look on Castiel's face was strange and foreign. It looked like someone else's expression was twisting his features. He was always intense; now, he felt almost dangerous, and Dean couldn't quite put his finger on why. But something had changed, that much was clear. And so was the fact that Castiel knew more than he was letting on.

"I mean — don't you ever get tired of it, Dean?" Castiel asked, his tone a weird mixture of earnest and annoyed. "Dragging him around, making sure he's all right, that he is not... going off the rails, as you say. There is always something or the other wrong with him, some problem you must fix, and I don't understand how you do it. I do not understand why you stay. Why you even care enough to—"

"Cas," warned Dean. "That's my little brother you're talking about."

"Yes, I know, you've said as much multiple times," scoffed Castiel. He seemed almost crazed now, and he had that guilty look in his eyes that Dean was all too familiar with. The look that followed whatever he'd done that needed to be undone.

"Cas, what's going on here?" Dean asked one last time. "And don't — don't give me some story about Sam going missing, or whatever. I need to know the truth, Cas."

"The truth?" Cas let out a harsh laugh. "Okay, Dean. Here is the truth. I am tired of being sidelined. I am tired of always coming second to an absolute disaster of a human being. I am tired of pretending that I care for him as much as I do for you."

Dean's hand tightened on the handle of his gun. He hadn't even been aware he'd reached for it, though it remained hidden under the table. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he demanded. "I'm not kidding, Cas, you ever call him that again I'll make you wish you'd never been poofed into existence—"

"But he is," interrupted Castiel. His hair was standing on end from where he'd run his fingers through it, and his eyes were wide, demeanor frenzied. Dean couldn't recall ever seeing him in this state. Up until now, he'd had the impression that Castiel liked Sam, loved him, even. He knew Sam valued their friendship, always stood up for him when Dean was too hard on him, when he'd messed up again and felt guilt. He could never have imagined that all along, this is what Castiel had really thought.

He thought of how Sam would feel if he knew — the betrayal, the way his heart would break. It was the thought of tears in Sam's eyes that had Dean getting to his feet, gun abandoned in favor of an angel blade.

God, this was so messy. He had no idea how it had come to this.

"Cas," he said quietly. "Tell me you don't mean it. Tell me this isn't you, and we'll let this go, never talk about it again."

Castiel let out a hollow laugh. It rang around the room, making Dean's hair stand on end. "It is me, Dean," he said harshly. "I'm not under the influence of any spell, any magic, anything at all. But my words wouldn't be any less truthful if I was."

"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," Dean said then, voice quiet. "All this time I thought you cared about Sam, that you liked him. And here's the kicker, Cas — he fuckin' adores you. Fuck, he's been kinder to you than I ever have, even I know that. So what the fuck are you doing, Cas? Where is all this coming from?"

"You wouldn't understand," Castiel said, and there was hate in his tone. "You are so blinded by your love for him that you can't see anything else. Anyone else."

Dean blinked. "What." Then he decided it didn't matter, and held his angel sword higher so that it was in plain view of Castiel. "Never mind, I don't care. Cas, I'm gonna ask you one last time before I'm forced to make this dirtier than it already is. Where is my brother?"

Castiel looked down at the blade, and then up at Dean. He smiled, and it was cruel in its coldness. "I don't know," he said. "For all I know, his atoms are scattered all over the entire universe."

Dean's blood froze in his veins. "What?"

"There was nothing wrong with your spell, Dean," Castiel said. "But tracking spells are only useful for locating living people."

"No," said Dean, and then again, "No," because it made no sense, Castiel was talking crap—

"He's gone," Castiel said, with an indifferent shrug. "I didn't mean to. I was only trying to help him sleep, but... well. I don't know where he is."

"What did you do to him?" whispered Dean. His hand was shaking, angel blade unsteady in his grip. "Cas, what did you do?"

Castiel looked him in the eye. "I got rid of him."

—

Dean didn't know when or how it happened. The angel blade was cold in his hands, and Castiel was spread-eagle on the war room floor, bracketed in the burnt-out silhouette of his wings. The fight hadn't been long. Castiel had barely defended himself. He seemed to have resigned himself to the fact of his own death, and that did nothing to comfort Dean in the least.

Sam was gone. Sam was gone.

Dean sank to the ground, angel blade clattering to the ground, his head in his hands. He felt weak in the knees. His heart felt like it was going to give out any second, and his eyes were burning with rage and disbelief.

Sammy was gone. His sweet, kind, brave little brother. Gone.

He never should have gone on that hunt.

Maybe, he thought, half-panicked and hysteric, maybe Billie would accept Castiel in exchange for Sam. It was a very low chance, but — that was what they did. They took the odds and made them their bitch, and now was not going to be any different. He wouldn't take no for an answer. And if she refused, he'd just beg her to take him too. Either way, he was not going to live without Sam.

Dean got to his feet, took in a shaky breath, and reached for the spellbook.

end.

#asks #anonymous #my writing #aw anon im rlly glad you liked the ficlet! i hope you like this too #it somehow turned into like. dark!cas with a side of unrequited love #it's probably bc i've been thinking too much about how if you take the 15.18 confession as romantic #it implies that everything cas did to sam throughout the show was at least a little deliberate #because if sam's out of the picture then maybe he has a chance with dean #anyway i'll tag this just to be safe #anti castiel #samdean #supernatural #mcd #suicide mention

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cleoirvine · 3 years

Text

♡It was his arrogance. The way he spoke with a slight drawl, his words dripping with narcissism. It was how he walked, his back straight from years of holding himself upright, believing he was better than everyone else. Or maybe it was the way his eyes glistened with unbridled determination, the want, no, the need, to be the best. He was selfish, manipulative, and quite frankly, had his head shoved so far up his own ass that you-

“Maybe you should take a picture, it would last longer.”

Atsumu looked at you with a slight smirk, a volleyball tucked beneath his arm, a bag slung across his shoulder.

“Maybe you should try a different hair color, that way people won’t call you piss boy behind your back.” You said with a snort, averting your gaze elsewhere.

He had half a brain to spike that ball right at your face. But he simply rolled his eyes and brushed past you, making his way into the gym where the rest of his teammates sat stretching. Slipped between the clasp of your hands was a clipboard, the stats of each player displayed on clean even lines. Your notes took up the margins of the pages, your job as manager for the boys volleyball team becoming more of a hassle with every snarky comment that left the older twins mouth.

“If you��re going to be manager, then ya should at least pretend to make yourself useful.” Atsumu had said halfway into practice. As you passed around water bottles and reviewed upcoming plays, he had snatched the clipboard from beneath your elbow and dangled it above your head.

“Are you a 12 or something?” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest. The blonde had grinned, a devilish smile laced with ill intent rolled over his features.

“Come on, manager. All ya gotta do is reach. Not up for a little fun?”

“Keep it. I have everything on there memorized anyways.”

But Atsumu was never one to give in easily. Golden boy, whether that name was a play on his hair color or not, was a powerhouse of a player; he was loved by many, adored by more, and envied by most. He was capable, and overwhelmingly diligent in his plays and his teasing mannerisms, and so what if his manager of all people didn’t give him the time of day? Why should he care that you were able to shut him down so easily, with the wave of your hand, the roll of your eyes, the quirk of your eyebrow. There were hundreds of other people who would love to be in your position. Thousands of people who would love to be acknowledged by someone like him.

“So ya wouldn’t mind if I ripped it up? Or maybe if I poured water all over it? How about that?”

Your movements were deliberate. The way you stood with one hip jutted out just slightly, the tilt of your head and the crease in your eyes to signify your annoyance. You tapped your foot on the hardwood floor of the gymnasium, the sound echoing off the walls around you. In your head, you weighed your options. 1) You could give in, beg him to hand back the clipboard, and return to your seat like a humiliated dog with its tail between its legs. No, you couldn’t give him the satisfaction. 2) You could get the coach involved. There’s no way Atsumu wouldn’t give it back then. But did you want to risk sounding like a cry baby? Like a snitch, even? 3) You could do the only reasonable thing you could think of- treat him like the child he is.

“I’m going to count to 5, Miya. And by the time I’m done, that clipboard better be back in my hands, or else.” You extended a hand, fingers firmly stuck together, face stoic and void of anything other than impatience. Like a mother with her toddler in a grocery store, you waited for him to stomp his feet and curl his hands into fists as he always did when he was embarrassed.

“Or else what?”

You paused. You hadn’t thought that far ahead. Atsumu sucked in a breath and gripped the notes a little tighter. He knew he had you cornered.

“Or else I’ll quit. And you can find yourself a new manager. How would your team feel, knowing that you’re the reason they no longer have me around?”

“Why should I care? Leave if ya want, no one’s stopping ya. Door’s wide open, sweetheart.”

You felt your heart beat erratically in your chest. Were you really going to quit over something as stupid as a clipboard? But if you stayed, Atsumu would win, would he not? Was winning and losing all that really mattered at the moment? No, your pride was on the line. Your dignity. Maybe, you had just as much of an ego as him. You couldn’t stand to see that smug look on his face for just one more second. You hated the way he laughed, as if he knew how much the bickering truly got to you. As if he could hear you physically swallow each time he called you sweetheart or when your shoulders brushed against each other on the way to practice. You feared the way his eyes watched your every movement, as if predicting and calculating exactly what you were going to do next.

But right now, Atsumu sat still, arm extended above both your heads, contemplating what exactly was going on inside your mind. Would you actually leave right now? Walk out that door, turn in your resignation letter and never return? He tried to picture it without you- the bus rides void of your terrible singing, the benches empty of your presence. You wouldn’t be there to comfort him after a loss, or praise him after a win-them, he thinks. The team, not just him. But god does he want it to be him. So bad. He knew you hated him. He knew you despised him down to the very atom. And maybe this was the only way he could get you to look at him, even if it was for only a second.

“Is that what you want?” You ask, voice uncharacteristically quiet. Your eyes drop from his for just a second, and you feel yourself inching towards the door. Atsumu doesn’t even take a moment to think before replying.

“No. Not at all. I want you to stay right where you are.” His mind is yet to catch up with his mouth, and his hands are moving before he can process it. He tosses you the clipboard, and dips beneath the net to prepare for another practice round. It’s only moments later does his face begin to grow red from embarrassment, with the realization of his actions settling on him fully.

He waits for you outside the gym doors. Kita helps you put away any stray balls and stacks the chairs against the back wall for you, before making his way into the late afternoon. As you find yourself stepping out as well, Atsumu’s hand grips at the junction of your wrist, his touch light, desperate, far from his usual demanding demeanor. He pauses, scratching at the back of his neck and running his hands through his hair as he glances at your shoes merely inches apart.

“I’m sorry-about today. I got a little carried away.” His voice is small, and you can see the apples of his cheeks glow pink in the fading sunlight.

“It would really suck if ya quit on us. Not for me-but for the team, ya know.” The silence between you is deafening, and you feel your heart hammer against your rib cage as you watch him remove his hand from where it was positioned on your arm. The loss of touch has you chasing him back, gripping his hand tightly in your own, before entwining your fingers together.

“I’ll stay for you too- I-I’m staying for you, I mean.” He looks up at you then, eyes wide in shock, before they turn to amusement.

“Oh really? Good to know-” You retract your hand from his, moving to walk ahead of him up the street.

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Noooo where are ya going? We were making progress!” His hands slip around your sides as he twirls you back towards him, his grip on the front of your backpack straps keeping you secured in place.

“Does this mean you like me, manager?” He asks with a playful lilt to his voice.

“I mean I don’t hate you-”

“Aw come on, can’t ya just say it? For me?”

You pretend to act oblivious, struggling against his hold.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about-”

“I like you, ya know.”

You stop then.

“I tease ya because I think your reactions are cute. Especially when you go from slightly annoyed to angry, cause then you look super hot-”

“Miya-!” “Astumu. Please call me Atsumu from now on.”

He releases his hands from around your bag, and turns you back towards the road. In front of you, you watch as it forks down the middle, Atsumu usually taking the right to get home. But as you hurry on, you feel his presence behind you. “Your house is that way.”

“I know, I’m walking ya home.” There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again.

“At least tell me you like me a little bit. Come on, it ain’t fair to leave a guy hanging-”

“And what if you’re lying. What if tomorrow you don’t feel the way you do now?”

Atsumu shook his head with a laugh.

“I liked you yesterday. And the day before that, and the day before that. Trust me, I can’t get rid of ya even if I tried. Not that I would want that, though.”

You stop, and in the dimness of a dying sun, you catch his stare, eyes holding yours with careful assurance.

“I like you, Atsumu.”

He moves quickly, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest as your voice is muffled in his shirt.

“But I swear to god if you ever try that with me again-”

“We were having such a good moment, why’d ya have to go and say that!” there's a pout on his lips as he pulls away for just a moment.

“But you look really pretty right now, so I’ll forgive you.” You can’t help the smile that spills over your features. You clutch him close to you- the boy who’s overwhelming arrogance caught your attention. The boy who teased you too much, pushed not just the right buttons, but all your buttons, until his presence was nearly impossible to ignore. He was yours, and only yours. His image was shared with hundreds, but you were the only one who could hold him in such a way, the only one to see him crumble beneath your touch. He was yours, and yours only.

#atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fic #haikyuu angst #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #atsumu scenarios #atsumu hcs #atsumu haikyuu

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samwithnoplan · 3 years

Text

A Big Step ~ A.R. x O.B.

aka an established!rolivia short drabble where Amanda wants to hold Olivia’s hand but is afraid to ask (which evolves into Amanda admitting to pieces of her past)

(+ slightly more angst than i intended)

tw: brief mention of child abuse and neglect in a single paragraph but not described

It was a big step, Amanda thought to herself, as she eyed the object of her current attention. She could feel her fingers itching and she just barely resisted the urge to reach out and allow her fingers to do what they wanted—to allow them to run across a callused hand before carefully interlocking fingers together to hold. Maybe it wasn’t the big deal Amanda was making it out to be because, then again, they were just hands, albeit hands larger than an average woman’s own and slender, the skin tan and the surface of the hands slightly callused—nothing like Amanda’s small, smooth (and rather pale) own.

Amanda bit her lip, lost in thought, hand twitching at her side as she wondered how Olivia’s hand would feel interlaced with her own.

Would her hand be cool and clammy?

Warm and rough?

Would holding Olivia’s hand ease the feeling of anxiety settling in her chest?

Would Olivia even want to hold hands with her, here in the openness of the park where anyone can see them?

She clenched her hand, fingers digging into the fabric of her jeans in a tight grip and knuckles turning white.

She was being ridiculous.

Her mother’s words to her about how physical affection was just the “show” part of relationships filled her head and she resisted the urge to scoff.

Maybe her mother had been right after all, or maybe—because she loathed to call her mother right—it was her mother that had been wrong.

Still, Amanda couldn’t bring herself to ask or even hint towards what she wanted, instead allowing her hand to hang stiffly by her side and curl into her jeans so she doesn’t unconsciously reach over and grab.

It wouldn’t do good for Amanda to just take.

It would be selfish, she reminds herself, eyes trailing away from tan hands to focus on two little figures on the playground screaming and running around.

Despite her mood, she couldn’t help but smile, lips turning up at the corners of her mouth and eyes crinkling as she watched Noah and Jesse play together. Sometimes, it took Amanda’s breath away at how well Olivia and Noah fit into hers and Jesse’s lives. Noah and Jesse were good together, Noah fitting into the role of older sibling with ease, and Olivia was a godsend when it came to wrangling Jesse into bed at night and keeping up with her constant energy and questions throughout the day. The four of them coexisted together with ease and Amanda thanked whoever was in charge for that fact.

Together, they were a family—a family that didn’t live together and that consisted of two women, each with their own child (+ a dog), and a history of trauma in both womens’ pasts that they were still working through, but a family no less.

They were a family and family came with its own set of risks, but a good outcome can’t exist if risk isn’t taken, even if one half of the relationship is afraid of the changes new things will bring.

Amanda steeled herself, stiffening and not looking away from the kids as she allowed her hand to journey out, blindly brushing against Olivia’s.

A beat of silence followed by a pause in Amanda’s movement, followed by a sharp inhale of breath as Amanda reached out once more, trying again—hand clumsily missing Olivia’s own by a brush of air.

Amanda felt her face go red and ducked her head, on the way of withdrawing her hand when a slight brushing against the back of it caused her to freeze.

She exhaled shakingly, eyes trailing down and widening as warm fingers gripped hers firmly and surely, but also so overwhelmingly gentle, the larger hand enveloping her own as her fingers were carefully interlaced by Olivia’s until their palms touched.

Amanda couldn’t help but look up, eyes meeting brown. She flushed at the gentle look in the older woman’s eyes and absent-mindedly she could feel the hand that was intertwined with Olivia’s own trembling.

At the feeling, Olivia’s eyebrows scrunched together and she squeezed Amanda’s hand, eyes never straying from Amanda’s but keeping the other half of her attention on the kids as she asked softly, “hey, are you okay?”

A pause as Amanda exhaled, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she struggled with what to say.

Olivia waited on her answer, patiently, hand never loosening its firm grip and other hand coming to join it, Amanda’s hand ending up being cradled between Olivia’s two.

Amanda felt her lower lip trembling as she opened her mouth only to falter, quickly snapping her jaw shut and turning to face the kids once more. So many things she could possibly say raced through her mind, but vulnerability made it where she knew she couldn’t say anything to Olivia’s face yet.

It was too much but she knew, logically, that she had to say something.

Her eyes trailed to Jesse and she steeled herself, mouth opening as she shakingly whispered, absent-mindely feeling Olivia slide closer to her in order to hear her better. “My mama used to tell me something, when I was younger,” her southern twang came out stronger than usual and she winced, recognizing it as a sign of how upset she was, “I asked her once why her and my daddy never showed affection in public…never held hands.”

Olivia hummed, voice coming out soft and sweet, “and what did she say?”

Amanda laughed, thinking back to how naive she was then, staring up at her mother and inquiring about their relationship, “she said that relationships weren’t about affection” and honestly, that one line explained Amanda’s entire childhood.

Olivia’s grip on her hand tightened and her voice came out, careful, “and your relationship with your parents?”

Amanda paused. There it was again—vulnerability. To talk about her past would leave Amanda raw, but it would also probably help Olivia understand a lot about why Amanda acted the way she did sometimes.

Amanda squeezed her hand back.

“Affection wasn’t allowed in the household,” she admitted, voice unconsciously small and shaky, lips attempting to quirk up in a forced grin, “unless the occasional slaps when daddy got drunk count.”

A sharp inhale sounded beside her followed by Olivia’s hands releasing hers. Amanda faltered, the word sorry about to tumble out of her lips before Olivia tugged her closer, pulling the blonde into her side. The blonde froze, eyes widening as Olivia’s arms snakes its way around her waist in a tight embrace.

They were still facing the kids but Amanda’s front was pressed against Olivia’s back and the older woman’s hand rubbed soothing circles into Amanda’s side in response to her stiffness, the brunette softly brushing a kiss against her temple. The blonde melted, head coming to lay against the older woman’s shoulder, sighing.

“Affection isn’t a bad thing, sweet girl,” Olivia explained in her ear, humming softly, “every human needs, and deserves, affection and I’m sorry you never got that but thank you so much for telling me.” Olivia paused, obviously debating her next words before deciding to say them anyways, “I don’t want you to be afraid to show me affection. Sure, we should withhold it at work but that’s for professional reasons until we’re ready to tell everyone.”

Amanda sighed, “I know, Liv. I just—it’s hard, you know? I can’t just unlearn my entire childhood in a few months.”

Amanda could feel Olivia’s head nodding as the brunette led them to lightly sway side from side, the brunette brushing a quick kiss to the back of Amanda’s shoulder. “Of course, sweetheart. No rush. We’re learning together, one step at a time.”

Amanda couldn’t help but agree, grinning genuinely this time as she watched Noah tag Jesse and take out running as Jesse began to chase him, “yeah, we are.” Her hand slid around one of Olivia’s arms, squeezing affectionately.

It would take a while, sure, but, no matter what, they would have each other and the kids, and Amanda wouldn’t trade that for anything in the world and, wrapped in Liv’s embrace, knew the older woman wouldn’t either.

They would be fine (and turns out, Amanda discovered the next time they were in public and she grabbed Olivia’s hand to hold, she did, in fact, take a big step in holding Olivia’s hand that day but ultimately, it was the right step to make).

#(both of my babies have trauma but they’re trying to work through it okay?)#(I also headcannon Amanda as having a lot of anxiety too)#law and order svu #rolivia #amanda rollins #olivia benson #amanda rollins x olivia benson

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quietmyfearswith · 3 years

Text

when you’re insecure ; preferences

warnings — body/weight insecurities, swear words, mentions of death, bit of angst??? bit of fluff???

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, ransom drysdale, jake jensen, bucky barnes, lance tucker, carter baizen, syverson, will shaw, august walker

a/n — so i read @gotnofucks’ drabble about how certain characters would react when the reader calls herself ugly and was inspired to write something similar to that ❤️ dont forget that you guys are beautiful and worth it!

their love language | with their little

masterlist

The utensils hitting the dishes was the only sound heard as Y/N and Andy ate in silence. The latter stealing glances at the girl; for he felt that there was something wrong. “I’m done eating,” Y/N declared, as she placed her hands under her chin and looked at Andy. Midbite, the lawyer had to pause and worriedly looked at her, “What’s wrong, honey?” Even though Y/N had an idea of what he wanted to know, she shrugged as she convinced him, “Nothing’s wrong.” Swallowing down his food, he was able to talk to her , “Honey, I know you well enough to know that there’s something going on in that beautiful mind of yours and a reason as to why you ate quickly.”

Feeling his warm hand grab onto hers, it was his silent way of coaxing her into confiding in him; that he was more than willing to listen to what she had to say. Taking a deep breath, she unconsciously found her hand squeezing Andy’s — as if finding the courage to say what’s bothering her. “I just don’t feel good,” she admitted, and before Andy could further pry for information she continued, “Like I’m gaining weight and it’s making me look ugly?” Shoulders sagging, Y/N sound defeated as she dismissed her own revelation, “It’s stupid I know, but you didn’t need to hear that.” Disagreeing with what she said, Andy rapidly shook his head, “It’s not stupid if it’s disappointing you,” Y/N could only offer a small smile with what he said, “If you feel as if the changes happening to your body are making you ugly, then I’m not doing my job to make you feel confident and beautiful.” She wanted to protest and say that there was nothing Andy could do to remedy the situation; but she knew better than to interrupt him when he was using his “lawyer” voice and reasoning. Lifting her hand up, he planted a kiss on her knuckles as he comforted her, “You’re the most beautiful woman I have ever seen and I’ll do everything in my power to make you feel and see it. You may not like the changes you see, but I think it just makes you even more breathtaking.”

“It was absolutely crazy to see how Ilsa was more than willing to jump out of the chopper even though she knew her parachute was faulty,” August laughed out loudly upon recalling the events of the mission he’s just been to. They both were sitting on the couch, a glass of wine rested on Y/N’s hand while the other curled itself in August’s toned arm. Gulping down his beer, he shook his head as he once more at the recollection of what happened; upon seeing how the memory had such a positive impact on him, there were two thoughts lingering in her mind. The first one was that it was great to see August relaxed and happy. However, the envious part in her considered that perhaps she couldn’t always provide him with this joy — perhaps Ilsa could? “She really seems like a real package then huh?” Turning his head to her, August chuckled a bit even though the comment made him wonder with what she meant, “Yeah I guess you can say that.”

“Do you see you see yourself with someone like her?” If his confusion was just at the down low, August’s confusion could now be visibly translated through his furrowed eyebrows and shocked face, “What?” The simple question was just the surface of a web of follow-up questions he had, but he figured the time he spent with Y/N made her understand that he had a lot of questions that needed to be answered; and she did know what the simple question meant. “It’s just you seem so fascinated with Ilsa, so maybe she’s someone you want to settle down with. Someone who'll always make you feel excited and happy, I guess.” The beer bottle he was holding was placed down on the coffee table as he turned to her. “I don’t know how you came up with this analogy, but the only one I really see myself settling down with is you.” Y/N gasped out at his confession, her eyes were glossy as she felt overwhelmingly touched. “You think so, August?” Kissing her deeply, he spoke as his lips were against hers, “In this chaotic world I live in, you’re the only thing that keeps me sane and your love is something I surely do not deserve, but I’ll kill every bad guy if it meant I’d be worthy of it.”

“What’s this sticky thing?” Bucky groaned in disgust at the gooey and slimy thing he touched as he was stroking the stomach skin underneath Y/N’s shirt. They both were watching a show they got hooked on, and the super soldier just loved feeling her skin any chance he got. “It’s a new cream I got,” Y/N informed him as she giggled at his disgusted expression; he suddenly thought it was a good idea to smell the foreign substance and was disappointed to find out it wasn’t the most alluring fragrance. “Why did you put that disgusting cream in your body?” The question seemed to disappoint Y/N as she moved slightly away from him and fiddled with her fingers. “Just felt like I should put some cream on my stomach,” Her explanation had Bucky even more confused than he previously was.

“Can you explain more, doll?” Upon saying this Y/N felt uncomfortable to open up what has been bothering her; but when she looked at Bucky he had this worried and soft look that made her do so anyway. “I’m just insecure about the stretch marks that I have there — so I thought why not buy a cream that removes it.” Bucky’s initial instinct was to hold his girlfriend close as he whispered, “I understand why you felt the need to do so love, I mean that’s how I felt for a long time with my scars,” As he mentioned that, he could feel Y/N nodding as she recalled instances where she caught him staring in the mirror with disgust at his wounds, “But what’d you do? You kissed them and reassured me how they’re a part of me; and that I’m not really as ugly as I make myself out to be.” Kneeling on the floor, Bucky raised her shirt and wiped off the lotion she had rubbed on herself, and began placing kisses on it, “You’ve reassured me multiple times on my scars, now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

“Damn Raiman is one badass chick,” Jensen whistled as he and Y/N were watching Black Mirror. As the said character was currently hellbent on getting the mission done, Y/N couldn’t feel uneasy with his comment. She knew about how initially her boyfriend had been attracted to Aisha; though she remains good friends with her, she still couldn’t help but compare herself with her boyfriend’s former crush. Turning her head to him, she could see how he was clearly enamored with the female soldier. But upon feeling her stare at him, Jensen looked at her and smiled, “What are you looking at huh?” Despite his teasing, Y/N couldn't find it in herself to reciprocate and continue the light-hearted banter. “You have a type, do you know that?”

The skin in Jensen;s forehead wrinkled in confusion, “A type?” Y/N nodded as she further explained, “You like women in the army, or at least those who aren’t afraid to go on dangerous missions.” Despite her explanation, it still did not satisfy the tech genius as he asked, “What?” She pointed to the screen where Raiman was currently shown on screen, “You like her and you were attracted to Aisha; so it really makes me think why you like me.” Finally putting the pieces together, Jensen could only chuckle at her analogy — not making Y/N feel better. After calming down, Jensen wrapped an arm around his girlfriend and kissed her forehead, “You have nothing to worry about, babe. I only liked Aisha because she was the first girl I talked to for a while; a shit excuse but yeah that’s really it. Raiman might be a badass but she sure lacks empathy. And I’m with you because you make me feel safe, loved, and appreciated. In fact you’re exactly my type.”

Y/N and Sy had just finished eating but they haven’t left the dinner table yet as they both were engrossed in conversation which was made even more delightful as they sipped on some wine. “So what, you’d be willing to lay down your life when you were in duty?” Y/N knew how dedicated her boyfriend was; the medals hanging on their wall were evidence of it. Nodding, he first took a gulp of his drink before justifying, “What better way to go than by defending your country, I guess.” Placing her chin on her hand she then pried more, “But wouldn’t you rather stay alive and continue fighting for your country?” The former soldier couldn't help but let out an amused chuckle; he didn’t know why his girlfriend had this sudden interest in his purpose or motivation when he was in the army. “Fair point, but I don’t know I just wanted to go all out.”

Though his justification was incomplete, it gave her all the confirmation she needed that he was this man of so much dedication and love for his country he was more than willing to give his all. “I feel like I don’t deserve you,” She found herself sighing to him adoringly, which caused him to look at her as if she had told him unbelievable news. “What?” Was the only thing he could mutter because he never thought of that way and he always thought that it was him who didn’t deserve her due to what he’s seen and done. “I don’t know I just feel like you’re this incredible person who’s selfless and passionate. Seeing what you achieved in the army makes me feel so small when I’m next to you,” Y/N didn’t expect that she was able to confess this to her boyfriend as she feared he might dismiss her. But Sy was awed with how highly she thinks of him considering he frequently doubts himself. “I don't know how you were able to come up with that idea, but I can tell you that you do deserve me. You loved a man who is scared and someone who’s seen unspeakable horrors, yet decided that I was worthy of your love and affection. And honestly? I think your existence served as my guardian angel during my time on active duty.”

“Angel, I’m home!” Lance announced as he shut and locked the door behind him, “Folding in the laundry!” Upon hearing where she was he then walked to where she was, seeing how she was folding clothes and pressed a kiss on his girlfriend’s forehead. “How was the training session?” Lance helped Y/N and grabbed folded clothes as they both made their way onto their bedroom. “It went great! Crystal did well in her flips and splits today,” As Lance went on about how their training session went well, Y/N could feel herself start to go down the spiral of insecurity. Unsure if she was able to mask it well, opted to nod along in silence. “Plus, her dance outfit came in today and it looks stunning! And it really looked good on her when she tried it on,” That remark of Lance’s was the final straw for Y/N as she walked out of their bedroom and moved to their ensuite bathroom.

Shocked by her sudden display of disinterest at their conversation, Lance followed her and waited after she was done splashing water on her face. “Are you alright, love? I’m sorry I got all excited about what happened today; what was your day like?” Instead of filling him in with what the day looked like for her, she dwelled on what he was rambling on, “Can’t blame you, sure seemed like you had the best day.” The gold medallist recognized that tone and choice of words and he called her out on it as he grabbed both her hands and turned her to face him, “Love, I know that what you said is sarcastic based on your tone and words; because if you haven’t noticed that’s how I converse with Hope,” Lance took it as a good sign that she chuckled which encouraged him to go on, “So I need you to tell me what’s bothering my beloved.” Her eyes looked at his, hoping that there was some other way she could tell it to him. But with his hands gently fondling hers, he somehow managed to coax her into speaking, “I just feel like it doesn’t matter what Crystal does but you’ll always be amazed with her. And it’s not just like today that you talk about her with so much admiration,” Despite feeling better since she voiced out her side, Y/N still felt silly about what she opened up about; Lance however found it helpful that she opened up about it. Pulling her into a tight hug, the gymnast rubbed her back comfortingly, “I’m so sorry for everything I did to make you feel that way. I promise to only speak highly of you and not any other girl out there.”

“Can I help you with anything, Steve?” Y/N wondered as she walked in on the Captain’s office area in their home. Peeking his head up from the computer and paperwork he had, “Not unless you can help me decipher these messages of HYDRA officials?” He groaned out in frustration which made Y/N chuckle and shake her head, “I’m sorry I don’t think I’m smart enough for those.” Just before she walked away to grab him another cup of coffee she heard him mumble out, “What’s new? No one really knows this shit.” As she was heating the beverage, she tried to convince her not to be so offended with what he said. That it was probably the result of stress and dissatisfaction from the lack of progress talking. But she knew that hit close to him since it was something that she had always been insecure about. Pouring the hot liquid on a mug, she then walked back to where Steve was and give it to him.

“Here you go,” She placed the mug on his desk and was about to walk away when she felt her hand be pulled back. “Why don’t you come here and stay with me for a while?” She didn’t even have time to answer as the super soldier already was maneuvering her so she could sit on his lap. “I don’t know, maybe it would be better if you go do that smart thing you were attending to,” Steve was able to pick up that there was something off about what she said. “Is there a reason you’re speaking to me that way, darling?” And as Y/N shrugged her shoulders, the Captain had all the confirmation he needed to come to the conclusion that there was a reason for why she was acting this way. “I just feel like, I’m not smart enough to be with you,” Upon meeting Steve’s bewildered look, she then took it upon herself to explain more, “I’ll never be able to help you out with these missions and reports; so why are you settling for me and not someone who’s real knowledgeable about all this,” She ended her explanation by pointing at the the different documents Steve had laid out in his desk. Kissing her temple, Steve hugged Y/N tightly as if he wanted her to know that he didn’t have those doubts. “I don’t think that you’re not smart; just because you don’t know a whole lot about these doesn’t erase the fact about how incredibly intelligent you are about your field of work. And so what if you’re not knowledgeable about HYDRA? It’s better because you’re not tainted by the malicious acts they did. Being with you is not me settling; in fact, it’s me finally finding something I searched for and needed.”

“Thank you so much, Melanie,” Y/N heard Will thank his assistant when she entered his office. As the aforementioned worker said it was no big deal as she exited the room to give the two privacy, Y/N announced, “I can come back later, bub, if you’re busy.” But her boyfriend shook his head as placed the files he was handed down on his desk, “Nonsense, come over here! I missed you.” And as they both shared a hug, they hugged tightly as if they were trying to explain how much they loathed having to spend time away from each other. “Brought you some lunch,” She placed the paper bag on his desk, careful not to stain any of his documents. “You shouldn’t have! I was just about to ask Melanie to grab some for us.”

Maybe it was the way her act of getting him food was easily dismissed; but the fact that he thought of relying more on his assistant ticked Y/N off. Standing up from the chair’s arm she was sitting on, her reply of, “Sounds like you don’t need me then,” had sass in it. The businessman however speculated that something was up. “You’re not leaving until you tell me what brought about this change of mood,” He pointed out her body as if the problem was something that could be seen. Y/N rolled her eyes to which her boyfriend tsked at; a way of telling her that there was no way they weren’t resolving it right now. “I just feel like you’re placing such a high regard or like you’d rather Melanie do things for you,” She sighed as she crossed her arms. Sighing as well, Will smacked himself internally for making his girl feel this way. Standing up from where he was seated, he pulled her in for a half hug which gave him the opportunity to look at her as he reassured her, “I don’t place Melanie in such a high pedestal, okay? It’s just I’m used to her assisting me for work and I’d rather put her through all the hassle instead of you. But you do me the greatest and biggest favor of all — you put up with my shit, look after me when you know I neglect myself, and love me unconditionally.”

When Carter told Y/N that they needed to go to this gala, he took it upon himself to take a day off to go shopping. The latter always claimed how the former went overboard when buying her an outfit and accessories. Less than a day prior to the gala, Y/N shocked Carter when she let it slip how she had no plans of attending the said event. “What? Why not?” The CEO panicked as he turned to face her. Wiggling in her seat, Y/N countered, “Well why do I need to go in the first place?” Sighing, Carter wrapped his arms around his girlfriend, prompting her to lay her head on his chest, “Because it’s a celebration of the company’s accomplishment and I would really love for my inspiration and the love of my life to be there to celebrate it with me.” With his explanation, Y/N couldn’t really find a rebuttal to it, and he could sense that she had no answer so he inquired, “Why do you not want to go, love?”

Tucking her head under his chin, Y/N then decided to unveil her reason, “I have nothing to wear.” Flabbergasted with that, Carter couldn’t help but ask, “What? Didn’t we go out shopping last week? Do you wanna go right now?” Y/N calmed Carter who was already making his way to stand up so he could get ready to go out. “It’s not that I don’t actually have clothes to wear; I do but,” She trailed off, not knowing how to properly say it. “But?” Carter wondered, and Y/n decided to just say it bluntly, “Nothing looks good on me.” Disbelief with just he heard, he looked at her as if he was expecting she would claim it was a joke; but upon seeing how she didn’t take back what she said, he then understood that she was indeed serious, “What do you mean nothing looks good on you?” Y/N then bit her lip nervously, Carter then pulled her lip and gently coaxed her to explain. “I was trying on the clothes we bought, and just nothing looked good on me. I mean, they’re pretty dresses so I figured maybe it was me who’s the problem. Like I can’t give justice to the dress.” Baffled with what she was saying, Carter put both his hands on her cheeks, making Y/N face his serious face, “Baby, that’s got to be the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard; and I went to a private highschool full of privileged fucks. I think what you really mean is that all the dresses we bought don’t compliment your assets properly,” Seeing her shrug nonchalantly signified how he was getting through her, “And honestly? You can come up to the gala in just your pajamas and still look drop dead gorgeous.”

“Is there any way I can not go on Sunday?” Y/N ‘s small voice was barely above a whisper, but it didn’t fly past Ransom’s keen ear. Looking up from his phone, he looked down from where she laid on his lap, her eyes looking hopeful. “Why don’t you want to go?” This wasn’t the first time he brought her over to Harlan’s home and dined with his family. Granted, she was risking going inside a lion’s den and being devoured by the predators. “Because your family’s gonna be there and we both know how disastrous these gatherings can be,” Though she made a point, both the trust fund son and his girlfriend knew that was a lame excuse to forfeit from the gathering. “Baby, you and I both know you handle these gatherings well; remember what happened when you told Walt off?”

Upon bringing up the instance where Walt had made an off-handed and misogynistic comment to which didn’t sit well with Y/N, resulting in her lecturing him about why his statement was problematic, the girl could only scrunch her face up. “It’s because of that I don’t want to go,” she mumbled quietly. But if there was one thing Ransom learned and developed after dating her for so long, it was to listen carefully to every sound she made for it all meant something. “I may not have heard what you said clearly, but I know that you said something. So better speak up, princess and tell me what it is about this Sunday’s dinner that makes you not want to go.” Y/N knew there was no way they could drop this subject since Ransom had set his phone down and looked at her seriously. She then covered her eyes with her hands as she confessed, “I just heard about Walt and Linda talk about how they never wanted someone like me for you.” With that revelation, Ransom round himself agitated and infuriated with how his family members had the balls to comment on his love life that made him very much happy. Letting the back of his knuckles caress her cheek he consoled her, “Just so you know, my family can eat shit for thinking that they can give nasty and irrelevant comments about what makes me happy. You make me happy and love me despite my spoiled ass. If anything it’s me who doesn’t deserve to be with someone as amazing as you are.”

#quietmyfearswith #my writing #chris evans x reader #sebastian stan x reader #henry cavill x reader #andy barber x reader #august walker x reader #bucky barnes x reader #jake jensen x reader #syverson x reader #lance tucker x reader #steve rogers x reader #will shaw x reader #carter baizen x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x reader

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kingsuckjin · 3 years

Text

Jimin's Body- Teaser

⫸ possessed Jimin x reader

⫸ Genre: horror, (Jennifer's body au)

⫸ Rating: M (18+ for eventual smut and very dark themes)

⫸ Warnings: (for this teaser only) demonic possession, blood, low self worth, mention of being a loner, question of a heart attack, embarrassing childhood story, Jimin might be being teased, hmmm Tae's house is haunted maybe?

⫸ About: This wasn't the party Jimin thought it would be. After the party you knew Jimin wasn't the person you thought he once was either... that is, if he’s a person at all anymore.

⫸ Words:1.8k

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"Taehyung, stop fucking with everyone." You scolded as Jimin stared wide-eyed at the ceiling at the light that had just flickered out.

He had to look tough with you sitting in the circle right across from him on the brown, shag-carpeted floor of this basement that looked like it and its living room-like furniture hadn’t been touched or updated since the 70’s.

It was supposed to be a party, and there indeed was one upstairs blasting music but muffled by the floor above.

You were all supposed to be playing a childish and tipsy game of spin the bottle in the basement.

Jimin was supposed to kiss you. He had only come here because he wanted to spend time with you because you invited him, but so far nothing was going as planned.

"He's not fucking with anyone his house is haunted." Jungkook chuckled while Taehyung gave you a boxy grin.

Jimin couldn't tell if they were lying or not, he didn't really know anyone here but you and Seokjin, who had already passed out on the basement couch across the room, oblivious to everything happening.

Jimin also thought maybe they were all playing a joke on him, he hadn't said a word to anyone but you and Jin since he had got here.

"He's not lying, I saw a ghost once when I stayed over. I don't even believe in ghosts." The rather stoic guy named Yoongi spoke with his arms crossed.

"Tell them the story Tae." Jungkook urged.

Taehyung's eyes flitted around the circle to each person's face, possibly pausing to add anticipation.

"A woman died in this house."

"So what? People die everywhere, it doesn't mean a place is haunted." You spoke up, already seeming like you didn’t believe him right from the start.

"She was murdered," Taehyung added.

"Sure." You scoffed as you rolled your eyes.

"She was. Right here in the basement. She ran from the killer and hid in the basement and locked herself in the bathroom. She was supposedly very beautiful and vain. Sometimes if you look in the mirror and tell yourself how nice you look, she'll get jealous and appear, maybe she'll even steal your soul if you're pretty enough."

Although Jimin had been a little scared at first. He couldn't help but stifle a laugh and a smile at how cliché Taehyung's ghost story sounded and suddenly all eyes in the circle were on him.

"What? You don't believe me?" Taehyung raised his eyebrows at Jimin.

"No one does, Tae. Even if the house is haunted you're obviously dramatizing it." You scoffed.

"I believe it," Yoongi muttered.

"Go in there and do it Jimin." Jungkook urged pointing to a darkened doorway in the basement.

"Oh Jimin, you made her mad." Taehyung teased as he watched the light above begin to flicker back to life just before dying again.

Jimin could feel the "are you serious?" look on his face that he was now giving Jungkook. He didn't know any of these people but you, and you were the one he was afraid of looking like a coward in front of. He cursed at himself in his head for laughing at Taehyung's bad ghost story. He should've just stayed quiet like he always did.

"Go on." Jungkook urged again, ignoring Jimin's surprised look.

"Guys don't. This isn't how you treat new friends. Can we please go back to-"

"Too scared?" Yoongi now asked Jimin.

"No." He answered more confidently than he felt. Should he be scared? Probably not. Taehyung's story was shit and everyone in the room knew it. They were obviously just picking on him because he was a new friend and shy, right? Jimin didn't really have many friends until he started working at the restaurant with you and Seokjin, he was always just too shy and quiet for friends to really stick. But what if he simply just wasn't this time? What if he became the outgoing popular Jimin he always wanted to be and started over with these new friends. What if he pretended to be everything he wasn't? That’s why he came tonight, he thought if maybe he was all of those things finally, maybe you’d want him. He wasn’t about to mess up the charade he was doing okay at putting on now.

Jimin stood from his place in the circle of new friends on the floor, trying to stop his nervous legs from shaking.

"So what do I do?" He was wanting to prove them wrong, show them that he wasn't scared and this was all bullshit, even though he knew in the back of his mind that this was how every horror movie and story started.

"Jimin you don't have t-" you were interrupted by a smirking Taehyung. Jimin wondered how he could be so chill about this if it was real.

"Go in the bathroom, don't turn on the lights, look in the mirror, and tell yourself you're pretty and genuinely mean it."

"Oh, so you can all hear me and laugh at me?" Jimin saw a new ploy to their jokes.

"No ones going to laugh at you." Taehyung was serious as he looked Jimin in the eye.

"You've got more balls than I do, new guy." Jimin heard Yoongi say as he looked towards the dark basement bathroom. Something about their suddenly serious tones of voices and the way they were looking at one another now made the fear and nervousness in Jimin’s stomach rise once again.

"I swear if you're tricking him or you plan on actually making fun of him I swear I won't be your guy's friend anymore, I mean it." Your tone was deadly serious at the group and that gave Jimin some reassurance.

"It's not a joke," Taehyung replied in a way that took away any shred of confidence Jimin had left. What was worse, his new friends playing a prank on him and wanting to embarrass him or something actually happening? Jimin felt fucked either way but still made his legs carry him to the bathroom as he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling Taehyung’s story had left him with.

He wondered if they would stop him and tell him they were just kidding, but as he closed the door and the complete darkness took over the room, he lost any hope of that happening.

The bathroom smelled musty unlike the livable rest of the basement. Although it was a full bathroom with a sink, tub, and toilet, the walls were unfinished. It just felt like someone had given up on the room long ago.

Jimin placed his hands on each side of the cool, white porcelain sink and looked at himself thoroughly in the mirror in front of him. How was he supposed to tell himself he was good looking and mean it? Jimin felt like he was a timid, friendless, freak. Even this incident reminded him of a sleepover he had in first grade where he got scared and peed his pants and all the boys laughed at him. He knew you'd never want him, not when he was too shy to finally make a move, not when you had all of these cool guy friends.

Jimin placed his hand on his cheek and let his thumb drift over his lips. Have you ever once thought he was handsome? Just once? If you did you wondered what you thought about. Maybe you liked his lips and thought about how good they would feel pressed to yours… or even other places on your body.

Maybe you liked his hair and thought about how nice it would feel to run your hands through it. Perhaps his body? As a dancer, Jimin knew his body was in shape but was it good enough for you to imagine on top of you?

He finally came to the conclusion that maybe he had more in the looks department than most did. That was when he let the words pass his lips.

"I'm attractive."

The affirmation felt good, he had never once thought to do this before. He continued to look over his features and think about what you might like about him.

"My lips are nice, my hair is nice, my body is nice and I'm so attractive. I'm pretty."

Jimin began to understand that the others in that room weren't him, they were nothing like him. He had things that they didn't, many things they didn't. Even in the kindness department, Jimin had a leg up, after all, who sends a new friend into a bathroom to scare them? Did they even want to really be friends with him? Probably not. Perhaps they did this out of jealousy. They were probably jealous Jimin was better looking than them, he was a better person than them. They wanted you and couldn't have you, Jimin could.

All Jimin could see in the mirror was darkness all but the beautiful features of his face. He didn't feel the smirk that erupted on it, but he saw it in the mirror and it felt so right.

"I'm the most beautiful here. I am."

Jimin was so lost in himself that he barely noticed the shadow right behind him, reaching out for him with its dark, spindly fingers each tapered to a claw tip.

Jimin did however see the dark liquid begin to drop from his nose, run down his full pips and chin before dripping onto the white porcelain sink in front of him.

He doubled over with the sudden pain in his chest that hit him faster than a lightning strike. It felt like his heart was being tightened in a vice.

He collapsed completely onto the cold, cracked tiled floor in the dark grunting with a ringing growing overwhelmingly loud in his ears as he waited for the squeezing in his chest to pop his heart like a water balloon.

Could anyone hear him? Surely someone had to. What was happening? He wondered if he was suffering a heart attack. Was he dying?

The pain was so terrible and felt like it was lasting so long that Jimin had tried to dig his fingers into the tile until his knuckles turned white.

Over the piercing ringing, Jimin could hear soft whispers that didn't make sense at first. The whispering of a woman. The longer he listened as his vision began to fade, the more he was able to make sense of the words.

"Let me in. I can make your dreams come true. I can give you everything you want, just let me in Jimin." Whatever it was knew his name, and it knew about you and how much he liked you. it felt like whatever the voice was was burrowing around in his brain looking for something.

Jimin felt weaker and weaker as his struggling against the pain lessened the more he decided to give up.

"Fine." Jimin had struggled to say, but once he did, everything stopped. Everything turned black, even his thoughts of you had melted away into the darkness.

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laurbiek · 4 years

Note

Hey! I saw you said you were open for requests and I’ve got one in mind if it’s not a problem. How about when y/n surprises Andy when he’s on tour. She’s just in the crowd and he sees her for the first time in a long time just swaying and singing along the words to his song? And they’d probably meet backstage

Absolutely! This is an adorable prompt! Andy didn’t want to admit he’s clingy, he’s not, but he wouldn’t admit it even if he was. He wasn’t clingy or needy or any of the other adjectives used to describe a man in the throws of missing his lover.

He was in the middle of an international tour, and he was starting to feel the effect of being away from home. Less than halfway done, he’s gone too long from seeing his girlfriend, or fiancé now, Y/N, and he won’t be back to her for months. The feeling of longing, the need to hold her, touch her, everything, was becoming overwhelmingly melancholy.

He looked up from his phone, where Y/N had sent him yet another picture of their dog Elwood being especially cute while sleeping. He missed him too, but not as much as he missed her.

He closed his phone and put it down on the table in front of him, looking out the window on the tour bus, speeding forward and father away from her,

“Hey Andy, were stopping by a gas station in a few, need anything?” his bandmate and friend Alex clapped his hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his thoughts.

“No, I’m good”, Andy quickly said, not feeling up to anything.

Alex looked back at him, skeptical of his answer. “Ok man,” he said, he walked towards the back of the bus where a few others were deep in a poorly played poker game.

“Has Andy been a little... Off to any of you? He declined gas station snacks... SNACKS guys.” Alex said quietly, careful so Andy wouldn’t hear.

“Yeah that sad sack has been moping around the bus all day”, chimed in another.

“I think he misses Y/N, he hasn’t seen her in what.. 3 months?” After a long pause, Alex spoke up again

“What if we fix that?”

Y/N’s phone buzzed from its same place on the nightstand, used to this same call, from this same person, at the same time. When she picked it up, the blurry face of the man she’s been aching for was staring back at her.

“Hello Beautiful,” Andy said, “I missed you so much today”

“Hi Andy, I’ve missed you too” she spoke back, grateful to see his kind eyes for the first time all day.

They talked for over an hour, about nothing and everything in particular. About tour life, about work, about Elwood, who upon hearing Andy’s voice came running into the bedroom.

They wanted to say more, there was always more. Some of the more intense thoughts couldn’t be spoken with a bus full of people possibly listening, and some felt inappropriate to say over the phone, preferring to whisper those in the throws of something blissful.

He knew he had to leave soon, it was a weekday, she had work. It was selfish of him to make her lose sleep just to talk to him.

Their goodbye was short, anything more would be torture.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow Andy, I love you”

“I love you too Y/N, so much”

And with that she was gone, he couldn’t bear to wait another 24 hours to see her again.

That feeling of need was back with a vengeance, wanting to stop the bus and get on the nearest airplane just to hold her again.

Y/N’s phone buzzed a few minutes later, with several texts from Alex, his plan detailed in the messages.

The next day they finally reached their next gig, one of the smaller ones on this tour. Andy sluggishly moved into his dressing room for the day, he didn’t feel like exploring the town or getting some substantial food.

He was sitting plucking his guitar when Alex came in,

“Hey since tonight is a hotel night they want us to get our stuff out of the bus”, Andy responded without looking up,

“Yeah ill get to it”

“Dude, you’ve been gloomy all week, what’s going on?”

Andy stopped playing and looked at his friend.

“I’ve been so homesick, I miss Elwood, and I miss Y/N. I miss her so much it physically hurts.”

Alex looked back at his friend, obviously in love and in pain.

“Why don’t we go check out the stage, get your mind off her for a little bit”

“Sure, that might be good”

“I think you’ll see her again really soon buddy, don’t worry.”

The energy of the venue only increased with the crowds of people flooding in. Usually, Andy would be a little nervous, a little excited, his adrenaline boosted before a show, but today he could only think of his Fiance at home all alone and mow badly he needed to see her. She hadn’t texted him all day, which made it worse.

He put on his best face and headed on stage.

The show was going relatively well, with no big mistakes being made. The people in front of him were really into the music tonight, and for a minute he forgot about his sorrows.

In the middle of the show, he looked straight ahead of him and saw a very familiar face staring up at him, with a huge grin and dancing along. Her head was bobbing along to the music, and her hips that inspired him so swayed back and forth to the beat.

Y/N

He turned around when he could to face Alex

He mouthed surprise back at him.

For the rest of the concert, he couldn’t help but stare at her, watching her reaction to every note he played and a word he sang. He put extra effort into playing her favorite song, needing to see her dance and smile at him.

When he was finished, he saw her rush to the backstage entrance, and he ran offstage to meet her at the door. When the security guard let her through and it was opened, he immediately grabbed her into the biggest hug he could give.

“Good show babe”, she joked while in his arms. When he finally let her go he kissed her with as much love as he could muster.

He was suddenly so thankful it was a hotel night.

Andy didn’t care that Alex broke into his hotel room before they got there, decorating it with rose petals and candles, making a purposefully cheesy scene. He didn’t care that he was scarred for life when he saw some of the unmentionable products Alex left in a box on the bed. Needless to say, those were not used.

Andy only cared that she was here, he could touch her and hold her and ravish her if that was their plan. He could just watch television with her and go to sleep. He was here with her and he was going to relish it.

His favorite part was the next morning, after a night of love and laughter and a little bit of sinning, waking up with her laying on his shoulder next to him, his arm curled around her back. He leaned over and kissed her on the head, being careful not to wake her up.

Ok, maybe he was a little clingy.

#andrew hozier byrne #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier fanfic #hozier x reader

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flowerwrites06 · 3 years

Text

blossoms and blood II — jjk

Plot: Two lovers are ripped apart in the name of duty.

Pairing(s): Prince/King!Jungkook x Princess/Queen!OC (Name: Belle)

Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+

Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series

Word Count: 3k

Genre: Royal | Angst | Smut

Tags & Warnings: violence, angst, explicit smut, blood

Authors Note: I know a couple of you wanted this so I hope you like!

Seven years later.

The fourteenth white cloth covering a limp body left King Jungkook in a slump on his throne. Disease in the form of a violent king cursed their kingdom three years ago spreading slowly and painfully, creating two golden coffins in his own home leaving the heavy crown on his head without warning.

After a while he understood more than he ever did during that time, how much it hurt to lose both parents at once. An event one could never expect to happen or could control.

He had only been hearing news about Queen Belle through the years. Her name etched and engraved into everyone’s conversations.

The Queen conquered five neighbor kingdoms and rebuilt her council from full scratch with six strong diplomats including Prince Yoongi who bent the knee freely. The prince was always known not to be attached to the hip with his power and Belle built a good reputation for being loyal in her word. All neighboring kingdoms now flourished with good food in their bellies, warm homes and a strong law system lessening crimes by half. Her territorial power and societal influence now stood in dangerously close competition with the new Sun King Hoseok.

The double doors opened with a thud breaking his tumble of thoughts. Eyes flickered up to see one of his guards glistening with sweat and expression twisted in distress much like most of his council and citizens nowadays. “Any survivors?” Jungkook sighed scratching at the dark wood of his armrest.

The solider gave a quick bow before standing at attention. “Twenty, sir. Excluding our few surviving soldiers.”

Twenty. He remembered a time when his kingdom used to be impenetrable. After the secret attacks on the outlying village, the funds thinned out significantly as well as the population. A lot of citizens fled to the inner city which meant overcrowding and many trying to live on the streets with scarce food and shelter.

Having an alliance with Belle’s kingdom allowed their funds to be conjoined and keep the Sun King at bay from attacking but now Jungkook’s land was vulnerable.

The man would have conquered the neighboring kingdoms but the Queen had been a lot better at diplomacy than he ever was. Jungkook fought in wars more than spoke in councils. King Hoseok had likely grown cautious of angering Belle thus leaving Jungkooks’ territory a better target to somehow surpass his current biggest competitor.

“Sire…permission to speak freely?” The soldier spoke with utmost care, feeling a little jolt of anxiety now that his question lingered in the air.

Jungkook waved his hand gesturing him to continue except his gaze focused more on the window to the side.

“Our army is deteriorating after every attack…” He gulped. “Queen Belle has the strongest military power to date.” Immediately the words caught in his throat.

The Kings’ eyes now burned right through the slightly quaking soldier, nails raking down the sides of the throne at the mention of her name. A deadly mixture of frustration and his chest clenching tightly. “You know that’s not an option.” His voice turned dark.

“Your Majesty, at this rate…” He let out a little shaky sigh. “…we might need to make it an option.”

“Are you suggesting the soldiers are turning back on me?”

“I’m suggesting the soldiers want to see their children live another day.” He quickly bit down his tongue, hanging his head.

The traditional urge to punish the solider for speaking out of turn grew strong but Jungkook knew the results were never fruitful. His peoples’ trust slowly deteriorated by the day after every defeat. If he punished someone on his own accord then the respect for him as King will die with him. Letting out a heavy breath, Jungkook closed his eyes for a moment, angry at how he could so clearly see Belle smiling right in front of him when he did. Gulping he took a breath to speak. “Even if I did ask for her help…” He shook his head. “The chances of her agreeing are slim...”

The solider cleared his throat gently, hands clasped behind his back. “Slim chances are all we have. The low lying villages are now determined as the Sun Kings’ territory. He’s trying to conquer the kingdom piece by piece and it won’t be long until he’s standing in this very throne room.” He swallowed down hard again with a silent prayer in his mind that his freedom of speech didn’t fizzle out. “If there’s a more powerful voice to match King Hoseok, it’s Queen Belle.”

Jungkook predicted Belles’ success as a ruler surpassing his own. Except at that time, they hoped to be married after their parents’ passing so the tradition between their families could be broken. Now they were on different sides and his inability to make orders rather than follow them became overwhelmingly clear. With a sigh and deflated figure, he spoke again to break the silence. “Alright. We’ll ride out for an audience with her.”

Under the pale morning sky, the Queen and her general carefully stepped on either side of the training courtyard. Private area just close enough to the throne room, large pillars bordering it all with a large weapons table on the end. On a better day the whole room would glow a deep orange but right now it looked dull and dreary save for the striking velvet red lining her suit.

Thin strand of hair hovered over Belle’s face, posture straightened and sword held with such a steadiness it looked like an extension of her arm. The kindness usually spread across her features made Namjoon forget his queen currently stood as one of the most biggest conquerors of their generation. But at these moments, how she wielded her weapon with pride reminded him clearly.

The General gave the first swing, metal clanged against each other in a static pattern. He worked off his strength with large strikes while the queen moved quick on her feet, evading the move to conserve her energy before swinging against his sword with an expected might. As they pushed away, the swords created a screeching sound. Arms ached at this point despite having training with such a heavy weapon since childhood. After some time, even strong holds gave in but at that stage persistence took control.

Long braid swung over her shoulder as she turned to the other side of training ground, taking a deep breath without showing it. Belle tried to make the world around her slow down to calculate her movements.

Few more swings of their swords, the metal screeched again.

She pushed his back causing him to lose control of his weapon and she pointed her own right at his neck.

“You went easy.” Belle replied, pulling the steel blade away.

“Asking a general to hurt his queen is easier said than done.” Namjoon smirked, breathing a little heavy.

“The hardest lesson for a soldier to learn is hurting the ones they love most.” Belle advised sheathing her sword. “There might be a day where you’ll have to.”

Namjoon stared down at his sword before sheathing it as well. “Let’s hope that day never comes.”

Belle hummed in agreement before a rush of armor clanging grew louder. Both their heads turned to the foyer of the training yard where a young guard paused to heave out a few indistinct words.

“What’s wrong, Jongin?” The Queen asked.

“Your Majesty! An unexpected visitor.” Was all he could muster as he rested against one of the pillars.

Pulling off her leather gloves and placing it on the weapons table, Belle walked past the guard with asking another question while Namjoon followed along intently.

In the throne room, Belle placed her braid behind her. Cool breeze from the hallways allowed the sweat to stop sticking to her clothing while all ragged breathing calmed down. The line of guards standing to the entrance of throne room bowed down to her immediately. She got visits every single day considering problems from each kingdom addressed to her. Except they were always planned.

Double doors opened and she stepped through. Prince Seokjin already standing next to her throne while Yoongi gazed towards her as he rested back on a pillar. The entire room had been designed with a deep mahogany adorned in red and gold tapestry, contrasting against all the colours worn by the court members.

Eyes moved from Seokjin to the figure standing in the center in front of her empty throne. Her heart dropped to the pit and lips parted watching the small pout, hair just over his eyes and a firm gaze. It only took a second for that dreaded sense of recognition to spread through her. Belle despised the fact she couldn’t figure out whether the feeling in her belly swirled due to anger or yearning.

Standing just in front of her thrones, fingers quickly intertwined together as she tried her best to keep a composed face. Matching to the same one she usually had when witnessing an execution. “King Jeon.”

Jungkook felt a tug at his chest hearing her address him in such a formal way. Even in court proceeding or public events, she would call him by his first name or at least have a sweet, loving tone that made him forget about all his problems. Except he knew he lost the right to relish in that now. “Queen Belle.” He bowed slightly.

“What do I owe this visit?” She asked trying to get straight to the point before her knees started shaking.

Jungkook glanced around the court, watching some of their faces contort into disgust, disappointment or curiosity in the younger looking members. A lot of the older ones knew who he was and what he did to the former rulers of this kingdom. Only some of them had seen his face. Honestly Belle was the only one he could recognize in a heartbeat. “I’m afraid I have a favor to ask.”

“A favor?” Belle seethed a little. “What kind of favor?”

He hesitated for a moment, for the hundred time wondering if it were wiser to just turn back and find another solution. But his people deserved more than a half-hearted attempt. “The Sun King aims to take over my kingdom through violent and tyrannous means.”

“Says the slayer himself.” Yoongi retorted earning nothing but a silent side-glance from both Jungkook and Belle. Though Belle knew the older male didn’t need validation.

Jungkook took a deep breath. “My soldiers…innocent civilians are being caught in this rampage. People murdered on the streets, women raped, children taken as slaves, I—I can’t hold them down for much longer.”

Belle pursed her lips together, eyes twitching a little. “We had an alliance, King Jeon.” She emphasized the ‘had’. “It was to protect both of us from this very future.” She purposely let the words linger in the thick silence to remind Jungkook just what his parents got them into.

“But you and your parents broke that contract in the same way the Sun King is breaking your kingdom.” She took a deep breath. “I’m afraid I won’t save you from the undoing you caused in the first place.”

With that announcement, the Queen turned on her heel to exit the throne room leaving Jungkook stammering a little on the spot.

“What’d you expect, Your Highness?” Yoongi seethed.

Jungkook gave the council member a sharp glare but the other merely smirked.

“For a kingdom to help you, one needs loyalty. You not only let that ship sail, you burnt it down and sunk it.”

As much as every inch of his pride had the urge to fight back, Jungkook knew the man spoke the harsh truth. Maybe if he fought with his parents a little more instead of adhering to their orders immediately, his kingdom would not be falling right now. So the king kept quiet with his head hung.

The Queens’ bedroom usually had the most the serene atmosphere. Birds chirping just the perfect tune outside the windows where one could watch the trees whistle against the gentle breeze of coming autumn. The maids fixed all the flower bouquets into a red rose theme while two were preparing the golden lined tub for her bath after training.

Belle barged into the room making the maids jump, her chest rising and falling to calm the rising anxiety down somehow. “Ladies, please excuse us.” She tried to keep a composed voice but it came out breathy. No one was ever allowed to see her in this manner ever. Except Namjoon generally made himself an exception and Belle never saw a problem with it.

The maids scurried past the Queen and General to the exit before Namjoon closed it behind him.

“Who does he think he is?” She muttered, fingers tightly woven with one another. Eyes growing glossier by the second while her heart rattled against her ribcages. “Seven years.” She let out a trembling sigh. “Seven years and he just waltzes in here like nothing happened.” Belle grabbed onto the edge of the dining table centering the entire chambers.

“It’s odd…” Namjoon nodded. “I suppose being almost destroyed by the Sun King jolted something in him.”

Belle rubbed her exhausted face gently. “Everyone wants to take over that kingdom, they have the most impenetrable walls.” She raised her a brows a little. “At least they did. Jungkook never loses a battle.”

“The circumstances are different now though.” Namjoon walked to the table, caressing the surface. The Queen had his back to him to prevent any sight of her clear distress to see an old lover and friend.

“How so?” Belle turned her head a little.

“I think we’ve learnt in our journeys that impenetrable walls don’t always equate a strong kingdom.” He raised one shoulder. “And we can’t blame civilians by the actions of royals.”

“He killed my parents, Namjoon.” Belle swallowed the small lump in her throat. “He didn’t even hesitate.”

The General had to stay silent for a moment as the events of that day replayed in his mind. He saw the blank look in Jungkooks’ features when he finally gave the swings that took out the two royals. Then he could also recognize the same look on his troops before charging in conquests. “You told me this today.” He took a tiny step closer.

“The hardest lesson a solider has to learn is to hurt the ones he loves most.” He tilted his head a little but couldn’t really catch her expression. “I think you know…somewhere what he did wasn’t completely his fault. Soldiers don’t work on their own accord. Queens do.”

Belle hung her head and let another deep sigh, eyes still burning but her tears seemed to be dried up today. “Can you guarantee safe travel for his people?” She turned around to meet the generals’ gaze.

Namjoon nodded immediately. “Of course.”

“Make sure to fly our banners. The Sun King and I have no active quarrels, it may prevent any attacks.” Their little territorial competition was silent for the most part and never truly led to any battle between the kingdoms. Except Belle worried helping Jungkooks’ kingdom may end that somewhat peaceful streak.

Three single files of people walked at a tired pace while small children and seniors were carried in wagons by her guards. Namjoon made a good job to keep everyone safe but it tugged at Belle’s chest ever so slightly to see the small size of the group.

The Queen and King stood at a main balcony of the palace watching as the people were led into through the majestic doors. “Is this all?” Belle asked.

“Yes.” Jungkook replied simply, resting his arms on the railing.

Belle stood a significant distance from the male. She now adorned a white and gold dress with her hair in a jewelled bun, a few hair strands framing her face. “My father used to tell me that murder solves the smaller problems but only fuelled something worse.” She side glanced at the male. “You always did hate those lectures. Found them useless.”

Jungkook hated to admit he wasn’t a fan of learning intricacies of the mind or morality because his own father thought it best if he were immune from it. Too much thought meant reluctance. “Fighting wins wars.” He quoted his father.

The Queen scoffed lightly. “Really? Then why am I taking in your entire kingdom as refugees? For a banquet?” Belle retorted. “Fighting wins battles. Diplomacy wins wars.”

“Nevertheless…thank you…for reconsidering.” Jungkook sighed.

“My general was kind enough to remind me civilians should not be blamed for royal blunders.” Belle turned a little to face him. “We have a meeting in the throne room for conditions.” She spoke in a solemn tone before walking away from him.

Shoes tapped and echoed through the private throne room despite the crowd of people waiting in anticipation. White and gold train followed behind the Queen as she gave a quick glance to Namjoon standing next to her throne before turning to face Jungkook. Chin held high, small gold crown shining contrasting against her dark hair and painted red lips making her exude the most elegant yet potent power.

“Earlier you asked for me to revive our past alliance.” Belle began speaking and the entire throne room hushed down to such a silence, it could almost seem like it was empty. “I refuse.”

The couple of members from the council began murmuring to one another but the King himself continued to stare at the regal figure. “Why not?”

She stayed quiet for a moment to wait until the council members behind Jungkook stopped to realise the attention was on them and quickly quietened down, hanging their heads. Then Belles’ gaze flickered over to King Jeon again. “Alliances are made between two kingdoms who want to come in peace after war or kingdoms who have something to offer one another. Meaning they are meant for equal parties.” She spoke with the utmost eloquence. “Your kingdom has lost all their funds, military lessened by half, scarce resources and you have a notorious past of breaking alliances.”

Jungkook tightened his jaw. “What would you have me do?”

“I will call for the Sun Kings’ audience.” Her eyes trailed from left to right to address the entire court. “If we are to protect your kingdom from any more attacks…you need to bend the knee and reclaim your previous title of Prince.”

The court stayed quiet already knowing they heard this exact rule passed onto a once King Seokjin.

“So you won’t help my people unless I bow down to you.” He almost seethed.

“I will help your people till the end.” She emphasized. “I have an abundance of land where they can grow crops and live peacefully. The children can attend the schools built in the inner city.” Belle nodded towards the window again gesturing to her vast territories. “Your people can stay here as long as they wish. Now that they’re within our walls, they are eternally under my protection and will not be the subject of harm due to political matters.”

Jungkook pursed his lips together. “But?”

“But we can’t be two unmarried Royals in one kingdom. It confuses the balance of power.”

“Then marry me.” The King knew he poked a sleeping bear with that statement but it wasn’t like he could take it back now either.

Belle gave him a sharp glare as the court murmured in slight shock. How he could so casually bring the topic up like it was nothing made her burn with fury. Maybe it was nothing to him anymore. Taking a deep breath, she spoke again. “Bend the knee and relinquish your title as King…or surrender to King Hoseok. Either way, your people will not be harmed unless they want to ride out with you.”

“Is this supposed to be your revenge?” Jungkooks’ brows furrowed.

“What you did to my parents was an act of a soldier, Jeon. Not of a crown prince” She spoked through gritted teeth. “It’s not revenge. It’s placing you back to what you do best. Taking orders blindly.”

The male swallowed down a thick lump in his throat, seeing the love of his life announce his pride to be stripped away from him. Deep down of course Jungkook knew he didn’t have all the qualities of a King. He never thought Belle would be the one to end up reminding him.

“You have till morning for your decision.”

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#jungkook #thebtswritersclub #bts imagines #jungkook imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts royal au #jungkook royal au #tw: angst

67 notes · View notes

straightouttaneptune · 3 years

Text

Luna

Pairing: Harry Potter x Slytherin!Reader (past), Dad!Harry Potter x daughter!Lily Potter

Warning: This is like... legitimate angst. Honestly, it’s so bittersweet. There’s mentions of blood, but I mean, it is Harry Potter.

Summary: Harry tells a story about a girl, Y/N Y/L/N, his first girlfriend. Ginny’s out for the night, and Harry’s daughter, Lily Potter, is more than excited to hear about her father’s teenage romance.

A/N: This came to me while I was daydreaming during class. Amazing what a weekend of binge rewatching Harry Potter will do to you, lmao. Also, I’m debating on making an alternate ending to you and Harry’s story. Oh! Also it’s super long!!

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“Dad, was mum your first girlfriend?” The 9 year old Lily Potter whispered to her father with a faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

It was a snowy winter night, the day before her brothers, James and Albus returned from Hogwarts for Christmas break. Her mother, Ginny Potter was out for the night, preparing for the other Weasley-Potter kids’ return.

“Well, do you promise to keep this a secret between us?” Harry replied enthusiastically, sitting down on Lily’s bed as she sat up with her girlish excitement twinkling in her eyes.

“Definitely. So it wasn’t mum?” She giggled as she got situated to hear this very exclusive bed-time story, her sleepiness cast away, nowhere to be found.

“No, although I love your mum very much. My first girlfriend’s name was Y/N Y/L/N.” He paused for a second, for just speaking your name brought back so many memories that made him almost tear up.

“That’s such a pretty name! Was she in Gryffindor, like you and mum?” Lily reacted, and with that Harry resumed the story.

“Actually, cupcake, she wasn’t. She was in Slytherin.” Harry smiled, watching Lily’s face turn into a look of absolute shock as she gasped.

“A Slytherin? Really? Was she pretty?”

“The prettiest girl at Hogwarts. You see, in our first year, me, Uncle Ron and Auntie Hermione, we had to face this big, scary troll in the girls bathroom. She saved us, because she knew a lot of charms, even as a first year!”

“So she was smart, too!”

“Yeah. She was brilliant.”

December, 1993 Outside the shrieking shack

“He was their friend!” Harry yelled out angrily, hopelessly, powerlessly. He was so frustrated, so sad, and yet he was so powerless in that situation. He couldn’t possibly go after Sirius Black, he didn’t even know where he was. He couldn’t go back in time to save his parents. He could only feel hatred. Intense hatred.

Just when the dark, black smoke of anger started to crowd his senses, his head snapped upwards, his darkened eyes making contact with your unbelievably bright and gentle ones- as your warm hand enveloped his affectionately. The thick smoke vanished in a second, a wave of tears replacing it. He weakly wraps his hand around yours, feeling the small moon-shaped charm on your bracelet to calm himself.

You held him silently, as Ron and Hermione watched him helplessly weep into your shoulder.

November, 1994 Outside the champions tent

“Harry, you’re brilliant.” You sighed happily, each breath filled with adrenaline as you went to greet him first thing after his first task in the Triwizard tournament.

“Thanks to you, Y/N. You taught me the accio spell.” Harry chuckled proudly, the golden egg heavy in his arms like a trophy worth billions of galleons.

You rolled your eyes with a grin, laughing as you shove him into the crowd of Gryffindors waiting for him. “No Harry, you just are brilliant. You were amazing.”

You stand there smiling at him and his friends, one by one telling him how they believed him now, and that he was doing justice for the Gryffindor house. That was all you ever wanted for him- to be happy.

He glances at you with a hint of guilt, his gaze flickering down to the green emblem on your robes for just a split second. If only you were in Gryffindor. He thought multiple times. Because even though he didn’t care at all, the others did. Teachers did. Fate did.

But you only smile back at him and raise your brows, as if to say “Go, have fun with your friends.” With the overwhelmingly kind look he couldn’t find even if he searched for it in the eyes of the whole Hufflepuff house. Only in yours.

“Why were you talking to Potter? Come on, then.” Pansy pulls on your robes, pulling you away from the bright, cheery crowd of crimson red and yellow.

December, 1994 Gryffindor common room

“You really should just gather your things and come live with us.” Hermione joked, watching you nibble a candy cane while you faced your potions report in the Gryffindor common room that has now become your second home.

Looking up from the parchment at the three of your favorite Gryffindors sitting on the couches, you nodded in agreement. “Honestly, ‘Mione, I would if I could.”

Harry and Ron burst out laughing, imaging you packing up and moving into the Gryffindor dorms. “You should!” Harry encouraged.

“And- Y/N, have you decided who you’re going with to the Yule Ball yet?” Hermione asked rather hesitantly, her eyes locked with Harry’s.

But you don’t notice, replying “No, the person I really wanted to go with hasn’t asked me yet.” You mutter bashfully, everyone in the room, except Harry knowing who you meant exactly.

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m sure he’ll ask you soon. I know you’ve already got plenty of asks, he should hurry.” Hermione sends Harry a death glare, her head cocking towards you, demanding him to ask you right now. Harry blushed intensely, gazing at you pondering whilst your stare bore into your unfinished report.

“That’s cause Y/N’s the pretty Slytherin princess, who wouldn’t ask her?” Ginny interrupted for a brief second, giggling at your reaction to the nickname the students had given you.

“For God’s sake, Harry!” Hermione blurted out, sending Harry into a state of complete panic.

“Okay! I get it! Y/N, willyougototheyuleballwithme?”

“Huh?”

“Hermione, what’s a god?”

“Ronald, this is not the time!”

“Y/N!” Harry yelled, practically everyone in the whole common room listening now. “WILL YOU GO TO THE YULE BALL WITH ME!” He screamed, your mouth hanging open as you stared at the chosen one in shock.

After a brief second, everyone bursts out laughing, and in the midst of the uncontrollable laughs erupting from your stomach, you wipe a tear away and scream back, “YES!”

And the cheers go wild.

June 1996 Ministry of Magic

“Harry!” You yelp, dashing towards the limp figure laying in the sand, ignoring every other adult there that tried to stop you.

Harry, trying to fight the daunting whispers of Voldemort, gets a sudden surge of power hearing your voice. He can feel you close by, kneeling down next to him. The warm, strong yet inviting aura of yours makes him feel invincible as he regains control of himself.

“Harry.” You sigh a breath of relief as he wakes, clutching onto your arm of dear life. He dives into your arms, and you slide your arms under his, head buried in his shoulder.

His voice is tired and deep, but you still hear it very clearly.

“I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

August 1997 The Burrow

“Love, you look... brilliant.” Harry gravitates towards you in the after-ceremony of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. He admires your amazingly attractive figure wrapped up in the gold and royal blue dress that reminds him of the night sky.

“You’re supposed to say that to Fleur, y’know. But... you look good too, darling.” Your shy, yet bright smile ignites an eternal flame in his heart, wondering how he managed to snag such a brilliant human being.

“Speaking of, have you seen how beautiful the sky was tonight?” Your soft hand takes his and he lets you lead him out of the crowded tent- if he was being honest, he’d let you lead him anywhere.

“Well, you know, they’re alright.” Harry joked, earning him a light punch on the shoulder from you. “One day, do you think we’d marry under the moonlight like tonight’s?” He knew it was forward, but he couldn’t help but to ask. Every day felt more and more rushed, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be alive the next day, the next week, or the next year.

You squeezed his hand gently, meeting his brilliantly emerald eyes as he desperately searched for an answer in your gaze. “We will. I’ll love you forever, Harry.”

His heart feels like they’re about to burst through his ribcage, as he hastily closes the gap between your lips. Your lips taste like vanilla, and he savors every second, feeling your warmth, your soft skin, until the moment is broken by the chaos inside.

March 1998 Malfoy Manor

“Throw the three into the cellar! I... want to have a chat with this one!” Bellatrix Lestrange stomps over to you, recognizing your face immediately. She ignores Harry’s cries of threats and drinks you in dangerously. You stand tall, with nothing to hide, even though her presence sends chills down your spine.

“So... Y/L/N, that’s your name, isn’t it, girl? Your parents told me ALL about you, Y/N! Associating yourself with blood traitors! Mudbloods! Friends? With Gryffindors? Hufflepuffs!” She circles around you, like she was debating with herself on what she should do with you.

“Your parents... disowned you, I heard! You! Are a traitor to your blood!” With a swift flick of her wand, a deep cut appeared on your right arm. You screamed in pain, trying to supress the want to collapse on the floor.

“To your house!” Her wand swishes through the air, and another long, claw-like cut. This time almost slicing off your left leg. Your throat itches from the force as you let out another heart-wrenching scream, horrified at what she might end up doing to you.

You didn’t want to die.

“Y/N!! We have to help her. Please. Open, God-dammit! Bellatrix, she’ll kill her!” Harry yelled, tears splitting from his darkened eyes in the lit cellar, feeling the dark knot form in his stomach, hinting at something horrible that he felt was going to happen. He continuously banged his fist at the metal bars, but everyone knew it wasn’t going to come down.

Ron held Hermione silently as she cried.

“Bella, stop, her father-” Narcissa Malfoy’s fearful shout made Harry drain all colors in his face.

“Harry, I love you.” You whisper under your breath.

“Avada Kedavra!”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the remaining prisoners in the cellar found themselves on the beaches of the shell cottage, all confused on what had just happened.

“No... Y/N, she did this.” Hermione gasped, tears blurring her vision as she looked out at the blue sky that seemed like it stretched out for miles.

Harry let out a pained shudder. Without even checking if you were here or not, he could feel that he lost you. That you were gone. From his grasp. You said forever. That you’d marry him under the moonlight. You said, you loved him. He was supposed to defeat Voldemort, and live the normal life you both craved. The realization that he wouldn’t be able to hear your voice, or your laugh, and he wouldn’t be able to feel you against him, your angelic eyes on him, dawned on Harry’s fragile heart. He let out yells of agony, knowing that no matter what he did, nothing would bring you back.

But you said forever.

“Oh, no.” Lily gulped, seeing that just talking about it pained her father, still. “But I don’t understand, what did she do before...” Lily trailed off, curious as to why your death resulted in the rest getting saved.

“It was ancient magic she used. Even Auntie Hermione didn’t know the incantations to it. She’d only read about it years ago. Before Y/N’s death, the charm would grant her to use one last spell without her wand. She used it on the disapparation and apparation for the 6 of us.” Harry looked distantly into the air, his hand reaching for the bracelet on his wrist.

“This was hers, cupcake. Recognize anything?” Harry held out your charmed bracelet in front of Lily, her eyes twinkling as she figured it out instantly.

“My name?” Harry nodded with a hopeful smile on his face.

“Lily Luna Potter.”

ps. Lily was named after you. You had always worn the moon charmed bracelet, and Luna = Moon. Many people thought it was after Luna Lovegood, but in reality, it was you.

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