#okay so the fic became way longer than i had intended

[maximwtf]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT. i saw you wanted to write an izzy x reader that had to do with swordfighting—what if the reader is one of olu and/or jim’s friends whom they stumbled upon again randomly either at sea or on land and they bring the reader back to join the crew. izzy’s skeptical at first, i can picture him saying something like “so we’re really just letting anyone on this ship now, are we?” but some time passes and they are getting attacked but the reader shows up and shows out with their AMAZING swordsmanship skills and izzy is blown away but also a little jealous haha. it takes him some time to finally get over his ego and do this, but he ends up asking for some lessons from the reader and so they start doing it a few times a week when everyone is asleep and while they’re dueling and practicing is the only time they really get to talk but they do talk while they’re doing so and they’re learning a lot about each other and then they gradually fall in love?? please feel free to ignore this if you don’t want to do it by any means, but i feel like you’d write it so well! i love your fics so much🫶

Izzy Hands x Reader

words: 4000

google docs pages: 8,5

Warnings: None, I don’t think. A minor injury, at most? 

opening: You bump into some old friends who offer you a new occupation. The first mate of the ship is sceptical of you, but his mind changes when he witnesses a sword fight you’re having. Izzy builds up the courage to ask for tutoring lessons, and there start the long hours of teaching him your knowledge. 

AN// Reader can be any gender, though I guess I’ve forgotten to mention in the previous fanfics that the pirate terminology is rather male based, since women weren’t allowed on ships. But feel free to ignore that as gender affirming and take it as just generic terms. Thank you so much for this request, I was dying to write something related to swords and Izzy !! I had a lot of fun with this, and I hope yall will enjoy it as well^^ ! (This became a little longer than intended, apologies for that :”D)

 “A victory and the reward”

A new ship had appeared near the shore of the Republic of Pirates, and those usually intrigued you. You hadn’t been on a vessel yourself for years now, but each time you saw a new ship appear it did bring back memories, so you would go and watch them. After your sailing days, you’d told yourself that a life at sea wasn’t for you. And you started believing that after surviving the latest sinking of a ship you’d been on. But that might have been a lie, knowing you had regretted the decision almost every day after. 

Now, this new ship laid upon your eyes. In no time at all a jolly boat started making distance from the main vessel, making its way towards the shore. You made sure to stay hidden enough that your staring wasn’t obvious. You could never know who you’d come across with foreign ships. 

The men left the boat, spreading across the shore and towards the more urban area of the Republic. Though, two of them stayed behind, and at least to you it was rather clear they’d done it on purpose. Being in your thoughts, you hadn’t even realised that one of them had noticed you, surreptitiously pointing your presence out to their friend. You weren’t armed but they most certainly were, so running away straight after being pointed out wasn’t going to end well for you.

They approached you, but the closer they came the more familiar their faces became. One of them being more familiar to you than the other, but you’d seen them both before. The pair stopped at a safe distance, but by the way they looked they must have been feeling the same way as you. Confused. “Jim? Olu…?” You asked carefully, voice a little lost as you stared at the pair. You’d met Jim multiple years ago, when they were only at the beginning of their ‘quest’. You’d spent time with them for quite a while, up until you’d found a new crew and left for the sea, as it called you. Olu you had only met more briefly through Spanish Jackie. But both of them you were familiar with. 

“How are you alive?” Jim asked straight away, clearly a little curious through the initial shock. You stared at them blankly for a moment. Oh, yeah. The sunken ship. “You know, what could kill the evil?” You shrugged in almost an animated way, adding a chuckle at the end. Both of them seemingly had heard of what had gone down on the last ship you’d been on, Olu clearly interested as well. “Come on, you have to tell us!” Jim added, walking closer in a friendly manner. “Those days are behind me, I’m only a mere landlubber nowadays.” You chuckled, the sting of saying that still hitting deep. “You?” Olu asked, tone of voice making it clear he didn’t want to believe it. And you wouldn’t have either, only if you weren’t saying it yourself. “Mm, you know how it goes. I retired, as they say.” You replied, an attempt to lighten the mood on your part. “Mm, and I don’t believe that?” He insisted, making you give them both an intense stare before your shoulders slumped. “I haven’t dared to go back since the last sinking. Though, I regret leaving that life behind”, You sighed with a defeated shrug, expression soon turning to a more confused one due to what you heard next.

Jim had suggested for you to join the Revenge’s crew, who had already come together with Blackbeard’s crew. The old sailor in you activated almost immediately, shaking their hand in agreement. Before hopping on the boat you’d be calling home, you met their captain, Stede. He wasn’t the typical captain you’d sail with, but seeing as he’d accepted you rather quickly, you did the same for him. Accepted him as your captain. But after getting on the ship itself, you would meet someone who wouldn’t accept you so warmly. Like one of the old sea dogs you’d sailed with years before. A relic, you thought sometimes when he got on your nerves enough.

Almost the moment you stepped a foot on deck, you could feel the first mate’s eyes on your back, like you were the target for something. And after greeting the crew briefly, he made his presence known. He pulled the black bearded man aside, and even through his attempt at whispering you could hear what he said, “so we’re really just letting anyone in nowadays?” Or perhaps he’d done it on purpose so you would hear it too. 

You couldn’t hear what the other captain replied to his first mate, but you continued to stare at them both with a confused, slightly displeased look. In your humble opinion, you’d been on the sea for long enough to have gained a good set of skills. And you were damn motivated to prove to him that you weren’t going to be no swab. A hand placed on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. “Ignore him, he’s like that always.” Jim said and with that you started settling in. 

Days on the ship passed, and you got accustomed to their way of doing things and by the first months you’d gotten to know the rest of the crew, not just Jim and Olu. Though, as much as you workedand as skilled as you were, Izzy’s mind didn’t seem to budge. It almost felt like he would scowl at you as soon as you weren’t looking. You’d tried talking to him, but each time you tried the reply would be either ‘fuck off’ because he was ‘busy’ or he would come up with tasks for you to do. You could tell he’d been sailing for a long time, and you could tell he was skilled too. But the way he was doing everything in his power to keep you away was odd. Though, you tried to tell yourself that he was softening up to you, thinking he was a little different than at the start.

Swipe by swipe the deck got cleaner, and all the while the action you kept telling yourself you were only doing it because Izzy had told you to. Thankfully that day the wind wasn’t all that cool, though blowing nicely. You straightened your back to stretch, a low groan escaping you at the movement. From the new position you could see an incoming ship. From the looks of it, it was another pirate ship. It didn’t carry the British flag, so it couldn’t have been their navy. Not that they would usually attack pirate ships on sight either way. You didn’t take more time to ponder before running to the captain’s quarters to inform them about the possible incoming attack. 

And you’d been correct, it was another pirate ship with a crew willing to fight for some plunder. All the men on the Revenge had been called on deck, each one of them carrying a weapon of their choice. Yours was a sword, the one that’d been your trusty companion for as long as you could remember. You held it firmly, but with ease due to the knowledge in this type of combat. 

The deck was busy, like an ant nest. You had a man charging at you with a sword in hand, parrying his attack without much emotion. Their initial attack gave you a chance to cutover, quickly fixing your footwork after. The man was down with a nasty wound on his neck, and that is where you left him. Another of the crew was coming towards, you doing your best to keep a good distance to him. He disengaged, giving you a chance to circle perry the attack and allow you to have more space to continue, which you used to lunge and strike the man to his chest. With a swift motion you pulled the sword back, giving it a quick flourish for showmanship even if no one was looking. Or so you thought.

Izzy had fought himself to a position where he had time to watch you fight off the two men. His brows furrowed while following your footwork and the advanced attacks he rarely saw being used. Some of them he couldn’t even name, having not seen them done before. A sting of jealousy hit him through the amazement, his pride in his own skills being shaken. He hadn’t seen you in action before, having no idea of your past or where you’d learned such a set of skills. The first mate’s grip on his sword tightened, his gaze leaving you after the flourish, continuing his own fight. 

After the victorious fight the Revenge kept sailing, days passing the same as before. You were spending the evening with some of the crew, laughter coming from around the table as stories were told along with casual chatter. As the night went on, most of the people around the table started leaving, soon you being the only one left. You drank the last drops of rum from the glass in front of you and pushed the chair back with your legs as you stood up. “Aye.” Came from the stairs as a familiar figure descended from the main deck. Your gaze shot up to him, brows furrowing. “Yes?” Your voice came out a little whiny due to the confusion. The first mate got a little closer, out of the shadows and into the faint light of the few lanterns still lit. “I have something to ask from you.” Slight hesitation in his voice, you noted. You didn’t say anything after, only giving him a nod as a sign to continue. This was already odd enough as it was, Izzy asking for something from you? “Well you know, I saw you fight in the attack earlier.” He started, leaning his hand on the table next to you. “And I think some parts of your tactics were…impressive.” The first mate said with a slight scowl appearing on his face for a moment. A smirk had made its way on yours, amused by the fact that he had finally seen you in action and had to admit his admiration in order to ask of whatever he had to ask. “And I was wondering if you could teach me a few of the attacks you used.” He asked with a slightly pained sigh at the end. The smirk on your face only grew, having to bite it back by chewing on your inner lip. 

The man who’d been ‘tormenting’ you from the day you’d joined was asking for you to teach him a few of your attacks, which you’d learned from the years of piracy and studying the ‘art’ of it. You raised your gaze a little, proud of this achievement on the first mate. Hell, you’d barely been able to talk to the man without him shooing you away like some cabin boy. So, your first response would have been to be a little cocky about this, but you quickly decided against it. “I suppose I could teach you a thing or two, yeah.” You ended up saying, tone loose and relaxed. “You free tomorrow morning?” You asked in return, watching his expression tighten like he was disgusted with the suggestion. “Tomorrow night, when I have the lookout shift.” He said, not giving you more reason for the timing he’d chosen. You furrowed your brows with a slight smirk. Was he trying to arrange the meeting in a way no one would see him training with you? Even the thought made you almost laugh, but you kept it to yourself. “Sure.” You nodded, and without any other words the man was gone. 

You watched him leave, the smirk you’d been holding back finally freely expressed. You couldn’t believe the interaction you’d just had with him. You’d thought the man was slightly amusing from the start, by the way he was commanding the crew around when they clearly couldn’t care less, yet he continued. But seeing him come to ask you for lessons with his tail between his legs was more than amusing. But maybe you’d finally proven yourself to him, and would start getting along with the man from now on. 

The next day passed, the evening dragging the night along. You’d waited until most of the crew was asleep, expecting Izzy to want complete peace. You made your way to the deck just below the main, finding Izzy there along with a few lit candles. 

“Evening.” You greeted him, knowing it was well into the night by this point. “You know, we could have met earlier.” You added, gaining a slight eye roll from the man. “Get to the point, or this lesson will be cut short.” The first mate said, seemingly his defences still up. You put your hands up in defence, pouting slightly. “Alright.” 

You didn’t expect him to have read anything related to fencing or sword fighting, so there was most likely no point in trying to explain any theory to him. The man must have learned his set of skills by just having to fight, learning from errors he’d made along the way. So you thought you’d show him an attack and if he didn’t know it yet, you’d teach it to him. 

Either way, the man was looking at you with an expression that read ‘what now?’ all over it. “How about you show me what you know in action?” You asked, taking your sword out and going into position in front of him. He followed the action, you taking note of the good grip he had of his sword. He didn’t take more time to prepare, using a false thrust to trick you into parrying from the wrong angle before lunging to strike. Or what would have been a good false thrust, if you hadn’t seen it coming. You used a circular perry to deflect it, countering it with a quick flick to his shoulder, making sure not to cause any actual damage. You’d known you couldn’t possibly kick the sword out of his hands due to his strong hold, but the flick had worked nicely enough to get his blade out of your way. 

You backed down after, flourishing the sword in your hand before placing the tip of it against the floor and slightly leaning on it. From the looks of it, Izzy had his brows furrowed but not out of confusion. He had seen the attack performed before, yet it was only now that he’d seen it at such close range, getting a better hang of how it was done. “That good for the first lesson?” You asked, an excited smirk on your face. This would have been a good first step. He already had a good grip of his sword, footwork being nearly perfect, yet his timing and distance needed some training to make the flick work. “Suppose so, yeah.” Izzy replied, voice still a little unfriendly, like he didn’t want to admit to the fact that he was actually taking lessons from you .

That night was a long one, possibly the longest one of the meetings you would continue to have from there. But the later it got, the more Izzy seemed like his guard wasn’t up as much. You explained and showed him a good distance from where to make the attack and the spots on the body where it's the most effective if landed correctly. By the end he was performing it nicely, noting that he seemed to be a rather quick learner. You told him this before going your separate ways, oddly enough, looking forward to the next lesson with him. 

You didn’t talk to him during the day, finding that he was still acting the same when other people were around. But lesson by lesson he started easing out to you, talking to you like a friend after a few meetings. You didn’t mind, not at all. In fact you’d grown a little fond of him over the lessons, finding the two of you often talking while teaching him an attack he didn’t know yet. You’d learned more about him during those nightly lessons than you thought most of the crew knew. 

And as these lessons went on, you found yourself more than keen on the first mate. And at some point you started fearing that maybe he’d seen through you, and your feelings were affecting the way you were teaching him. But trying to push those thoughts aside, you kept giving him the lessons. 

But by some point, you could have sworn you had started noticing him opening up to you more and on some rare days he’d even come up to you during the day. He’d of course never admit that during the lessons, but you began to wonder if you should tell him of the crush you’d developed. And after building some courage you decided the best time to tell him would be at some point during the next lesson, when he was the most natural with you. 

The weather outside wasn't the best that night. There was a smaller storm happening, but not fully on the ship itself. This caused some of the heavier waves to hit the vessel and sway it from side to side, at times rather roughly. Even your sea legs gave out at times when a heavier wave hit the ship, having to hold on to the nearest wall. 

It was safe to say that this lesson would again be held in the lower deck, below the main. The main deck had more space to practise attacks involving long distance movement, but it was no use going there tonight. At best, one of you would fall overboard. 

You descended from the stairs, finding Izzy already stationed where he usually waited for you. “Took you so long, I almost thought you’d fallen overboard”,the man commented while pressing his food against the nearest wall as the ship swayed yet again, in order to keep balance. You raised your eyebrows for a moment, giving him a light shrug. He was struggling as well. “Whatever you say.” You hummed while taking out your sword, leaning it against the wooden flooring as per usual. He was waiting for you to start the lesson. “I thought we’d have a duel tonight. See if you’re any good.” You chuckled silently, the man giving you a low huff with a ‘fuck off’ somewhere in the mix. Though, it seemed he had agreed to the idea as he was taking out his sword, going into position. You followed after. 

Izzy moved fast, quickly lunging at you which you were able to deflect with a parry, having to take a few steps back as he was moving rather fast. “You’re wasting your energy.” You hummed, taking a tighter grip of your sword. You would try to use a flèche to end the duel, but you needed some space before doing that. He knew the move by now, but you wanted to try if he’d be able to parry or block it. 

After gaining enough distance, you got ready. Izzy shrugged at you, eyes keenly on your form. “Maybe, or maybe I almost just got you.” He replied. You rolled your eyes, not out of annoyance but more out of habit. He was preparing to lunge, or maybe trying to fake it to trick you. Either way, you took a longer jump forward, circling his sword to the side and aiming for the area around his shoulder, a successful flèche. Or would have been, if the ship didn’t sway at the exact same time. 

Due to your lunge just now, you didn’t have a proper stance to hold your ground. This caused you to lunge further than intended, and with the added force of the swaying you crashed onto Izzy. You heard the swords clash onto the floor, you feeling the nearest wall hit your head as you landed on Izzy, bringing him down with you. 

You groaned, slowly opening your eyes again. The spot on your head that had hit the wall ached, but you dragged your torso up by lifting with your arms. “You alright?” Came from under you, making your eyes widen. You couldn’t even think of the pain from the hit, embarrassed for tripping him over as well. “I’m- fine! Because I won, obviously.” You tried to ease your own panic by talking, scrambling off of him and back on your feet. 

You watched the first mate get up after you. “We can continue later. I don’t want to duel you like this, not fighting dirty.” Izzy then said, not wanting to argue over your wellbeing, but eyes still keenly on you as you tried collecting yourself. “Then let’s take a break, I can still continue.” You said, holding onto the table behind you. He didn’t say anything to that, not giving you a sign if he’d agreed to it or not. By the sound of it, he’d kneeled down to pick up the swords. 

He walked up to you, handing your sword back. “You don’t look fine.” He said, eyes looking for signs of damage. “Rude”, you almost chuckled, biting your inner lip to fight it back. “What?” He asked almost immediately after. “You don’t think I’m fine?” You asked, having to bite your inner lip with more force after. This hadn’t been how you imagined this going, but it wasn’t going to get much better. Izzy’s eyes widened at the comment, but catching up to what you were doing rather quickly. “I didn’t say that.” He squinted his eyes slightly. “Then do you?” The first mate looked to the side for a moment thinking about the question. “And you would like to know because?” He asked, voice a little awkward now that the moment truly started settling in. You furrowed your brows, not sure if the tone in his voice was a good or a bad thing. “Because I do think that way of you.” You blurted out, the air becoming tense. His eyes were on you once more, but more cautious this time. “Are you tricking me?” He asked carefully, as if that had been a mandatory question to ask before saying whatever he wanted to say next. The chuckle from earlier came out as an amused huff, trying to lift up the mood. “Of course not. What kind of a tutor would I be if I’d take up lying.” His eyes met yours once more. The jokes weren’t working, he was truly getting a little more emotional than usual. “I do…have love for you.” He said, hand careful as it placed itself on top of yours, on the table. As if he was scared you’d pull away. 

You had to hold back a smile, afraid that would scare him off. “I don’t think you understand how relieved I am to hear that.” You said, saying whatever came to mind, as finding any thought out words were getting difficult to find. “I feel the same.” You added, just to make it all the more clear to him. 

You watched the man carefully move his hand from yours to your forearm, slightly frozen in place, as if he didn’t know what to do next. He looked lost somewhere in his own mind. You swallowed hard, swiftly placing your hand at the nape of his neck, bringing him in for a kiss, to which he responded to. You didn’t pull away, a sly smirk forming on your face. 

You’d tried your best to keep it hidden, but it was no use anymore. You switched positions, pushing him gently against the nearest wall, raising your sword up to his chest as you pulled away from the kiss. “I still won.” You smiled. 

#izzy hands #israel hands #izzy hands x reader #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd x reader #our flag means death x reader #x reader #fanfic #izzy hands beloved #yar har i love pirates #lowkey got into fencing because of this too??

[sarahwroteathing]

Alarm Clock

[Steve Rogers x Reader]

Word Count: 1877

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a midnight conversation with someone you love.

Warnings: So much softness, I was way too in my Feelings

A/N: More retired Steve because I’m now obsessed. It’s fine. Enjoy it, my lovelies. I appreciate you being so patient with me.

Bingo Fill: Next Generation Fic

There was a time when you wouldn’t have noticed his absence. Or perhaps it was better to say you wouldn’t have been pulled from sleep by it. But you were together all the time now, free to devote as much time and attention as you had to each other. It’s amazing how much you found yourselves learning about each other, even after years together. When there were no cracks for the details to slip through, each quirk, habit, and half-remembered anecdote was a thing of wonder, a personal artifact worthy of careful study. And as your lives became more integrated, new habits arose and new quirks were revealed.

Steve quite liked milk and sugar in his coffee, now that he had time to enjoy it.

You enjoyed reading out loud to him almost as much as he enjoyed listening to it. 

Steve would rather die than eat an artichoke. (Not even remotely true, but you’d laughed so hard at his expression upon taking that first bite that he had complained as theatrically as possible just to prolong your joy.)

And, most relevant now, you were no longer capable of sleeping alone.

You found him at the hall window, shoulders hunched to peer through the small telescope stationed there, a birthday present from Clint.

“What are you doing?”

He straightened up at your voice, turning to you with slight concern.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping or - ” Your words were cut off by an insistent yawn. “Sleeping?”

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Did you get cold? I pulled an extra blanket over you before I left.”

“No I just…” You shrugged. “Felt your absence, I guess.” 

He gave an apologetic smile, going a little soft inside at the reminder that he, plain old Steve Rogers, was still that important to you. 

“I must love you or something,” you said quietly, leaning into him and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“Or something, huh?” he asked, kissing your forehead as you gave as close to a laugh as you could manage in your half-asleep state. “You don’t have to stay up with me, sweetheart. Go back to bed. I’m okay.” 

“Well, I want you to be better than okay,” you answered, shuffling around and guiding him with gentle but insistent hands until he was facing the window again, this time with you pressed against his back, holding him tight like he might wander away otherwise, like there was anywhere else he’d rather be. 

Steve placed a hand over yours on his stomach, stroking his thumb over your knuckles absently. Your sigh landed between his shoulder blades, and he suppressed a shiver. 

“What are we looking at?” you asked.

He hesitated a moment before answering.

“The tree line.”

“Okay.” 

Your hands made a slow journey up his chest and back down, and Steve took a deep breath, matching the motion.

“See anything?”

The street was deserted, unlit houses just barely visible off to the left and right. Your closest neighbors were well separated from you by sizable lots and mature trees. Across the street was undeveloped land, a line of trees and brush that swayed slightly in the wind. There was no other movement, no sign anyone but the two of you were even awake in your little corner of the world. 

“No,” he said quietly. “There’s nothing.”

Your hands made another gentle pass, but you stayed silent. 

“Do we need to talk about this?” Steve asked, turning his head to catch a glimpse of you.

“Maybe. But it can wait.”

For a few minutes you stayed at the window, you with your face buried against his back, placing kisses there when the quiet started to seem too solemn. Steve released a breath he’d been holding for longer than he’d intended, turning in your arms to offer a more complete hug before leading you downstairs.

You trailed along as he checked the doors and windows, only releasing his hand and wandering away when you reached the last one. 

He found you again in the kitchen, two mugs and a plate of cookies balanced precariously in your hands. 

“Can we talk… now?” he asked hesitantly, taking the plate from you before it could tip too far.

Your eyes softened.

“Yeah. Come on.”

Steve followed you to the living room, smiling as you bypassed the couch to sit on the rug instead. He swiped a few throw pillows and a blanket before joining you. 

You whispered a thank you, arranging and rearranging the pillows and snacks several times before Steve resorted to dragging you into his lap. 

“Bossy,” you mumbled through a smile as he pushed the pillows behind him to lean back against the couch with you in his arms. 

“You can move if you want to,” he said, letting out an amused huff when you only snuggled closer, resting your head against his shoulder. 

“I know.”

Steve reached over to take a cookie from the plate, offering it to you.

“Trying to butter me up, Rogers?” you asked.

“Maybe a little.”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” you said, leaning back a little to look him in the eyes. 

“Well. Sometimes I probably need to be yelled at.”

“I don’t think this is one of those times.” You brushed a kiss over his cheek before settling in his arms again. 

Another pause, peaceful. Companionable. A quiet harmony of slow breathing and the rustle of a blanket. Then…

“No one’s out to get you here,” you said softly. “I promise.”

When that only earned a hum of acknowledgement, you changed tactics.

“Well, maybe they are. But only in a sexy way. Or a ‘my yard is better than yours’ way.”

He snorted, and you smiled against his shoulder.

“Jesus. Well, unfortunately for them, I’m happily taken. And I couldn’t possibly care less about our yard. Sorry about that.”

“For not caring about the length of our grass? Pretty sure that just makes you a well adjusted human with reasonable priorities. Besides, I’m happy to keep paying that kid down the street to care about it for us. Less work for us, and he gets money to go to the movies or… I dunno. Buy whatever it is teenage boys buy these days.”

“Yikes.”

“Judgemental,” you scolded teasingly. “What did you buy as a teenage boy?”

“Uh…” Steve let out a thoughtful sigh. “Groceries. Drawing paper. Asthma cigarettes.”

“Asthma -” You broke into giggles, and Steve lightly pinched your arm in rebuke.

“Now who’s being judgemental?”

“I’m not! I… Just, you know. Little hell raiser Steve with his leather jacket and asthma cigarettes.” 

“The leather jacket came later. Woulda been the cheapest suit jacket I could find. Or a patched up winter coat.”

“Sexy.” 

“Oh yeah. The real reason I needed the serum was to fend off all my admirers,” he scoffed.

“Hey, I would have admired you.” you protested quietly. “My favorite things about you have always been the same. Your eyes, always telling me more than you mean for them to. That beautiful smile. Your weird sense of humor.”

“Weird?” 

You laughed, tilting your head to place a kiss on his neck. 

“Yes, weird. But charming. My point is, Steve Rogers has always been a dreamboat. People were just stupid.”

Steve didn’t know what to say to that, so he just held you a little tighter, thought about the locket he gave you on your last birthday. The last time he saw it, open on your nightstand, the picture inside was an old one, when he was still just skin and bone and eyes too big for his face. 

“Now, however, I have competition. Have to glare at people at the grocery store when they stare at you too long.” 

“You don’t have any competition,” Steve argued, hiding a smile in your hair. 

“Bonnie thinks you’re a retired GQ model. She’s very confused by our relationship.”

“Well, Bonnie can mind her own business.” 

“Ooo and last week I heard that Aaron thinks I’m in witness protection, and you’re my Marshal.”

“I don’t think that’s how witness protection works. He thinks we’re faking our relationship?”

“Very Lifetime movie, right?”

He hummed in agreement, a few seconds later adding, “I’d watch that.”

“Yeah, me too.” 

“I think we got a little off topic though,” Steve said with a smile. 

You laughed. “Yes, sorry. We can talk romcoms another time.”

You wiggled around in his lap, sitting up straighter so you could see him better, holding one of his hands in both of yours. You were still smiling, but the humor dissipated, replaced by tender concern. 

“Tell me how you’re feeling.” 

Steve took a deep breath, leaning to rest his forehead against yours for just a moment before speaking. Gathering courage, maybe. Or just comfort. 

“I don’t know. I just get… restless sometimes. And anxious. And I’m not sure where it comes from, but it makes it hard to sleep.”

You hummed, reaching out to stroke his cheek with a delicate touch as you pieced together your answer. 

“You know… There are some mornings that I wake up earlier than I need to. And I roll over and check the clock, and I see that I still have time left. Sometimes thirty minutes, sometimes two hours. And sometimes instead of falling back asleep or snuggling up to my favorite person, I just… lie there. Full of anxiety. Waiting for the alarm to go off. I know it’s going to, and instead of accepting and enjoying what time I have left to rest I just spend it all… waiting.” 

Steve was quiet for a minute, studying your face, letting your words sink in. 

“You think that’s what I’m doing?” he asked. 

“Sometimes,” you said with a shrug. “Maybe. You get in your head and convince yourself something bad must be coming. So you wait for it. Instead of… being present in the time we have.” 

Steve nodded thoughtfully. 

“I think you’re probably right. Sometimes it just… feels weird to be this happy all the time. It doesn’t fit with the pattern of my life before.” His lips tugged into a frown. “That sounds terrible, doesn’t it?”

“I liked the part about being happy all the time,” you whispered with a nudge and a smile. “I really, really liked it.” 

And you very clearly did get joy from his happiness, your tired eyes lit up and a sweet smile gracing your features. A smile that turned into something quieter, almost shy when he leaned in for a kiss. You melted into it, sweet and sleepy. Slow. Perfect.

“So, no more waiting for the alarm clock,” Steve sighed as he pulled away. He didn’t go far, his lips still brushing against yours as he spoke.

“You’re retired, Steve. You’ve got years of pure Saturdays ahead of you,” you said softly. “Just toss the damn thing out the window. You don’t need it.”

“You may have to remind me sometimes.”

“Whenever you need. Just say the word.”

And you stayed like that, just holding each other in the dark living room until you both fell asleep again. 

When Steve woke the next morning, it was to warm sunshine streaming through the windows. To birdsong and the smell of coffee and an extra blanket draped over him by the person he loved.

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I am simply too soft for my own good. How are we feeling, friends? Share your thoughts with me, please. Asks, replies, and reblogs make my world go ‘round 💜

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Tags: @shifutheshihtzu​ @internalbullshit​ @lilasiannerd-blog​ @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ @iwillbeinmynest​ @scotlandasshole​ @netflixa​ @hardcorehippos​ @singingprincessstudent​ @sophiealiice​ @blue1928​  @a-book-pressed-rose​ @bbparker​ @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun​ @feelmyroarrrr​  @orangespocks​ @multifandomgirl-us​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @patzammit​ @pato-el-cerdito​

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fic #steve rogers one shot

[thecontumacious]

Hey hey! Yandere request please :)

Gn reader who is madly in love with the boys and for a yandere x yandere kind of thing?

Mutual Interests

a/n: anddd we're back again with one of my favorite tropes in fanfiction ^^ my sister kept asking me if i was mentally okay when she read through this 😭 if you haven't checked out my last yandere fic w/ luxiem, here it is! i referenced back to this a lot tbh

warning: contains mentions of violence, suicide, r-pe, drug misuse, stalker behavior, kidnapping and gore. please read at own risk.

disclaimer: if you experience these kinds of things, whether yourself or on other people, please report this to professionals. this is not healthy behavior. i also do not mean to glorify any and all actions mentioned. it is meant for entertainment purposes.

reminder that all my work and others in the fandom are purely fiction and intended to entertain, not to be projected irl.

⚠️ dark content utc! proceed with caution! ⚠️

Vox Akuma 👹🌹

he first met you in a nightclub, unsurprisingly.

in anyone' eyes, it would've just looked like you and him were interested in each other from each end of the club. you dancing wildly on the dance floor while he sat by the bar watching you

but to the demon?

well, he's seen his fair share of beautiful bodied humans.

ah yes, he found humans' bodies to be more pleasurable than his own kind. probably because they just seem to falter and be vulnerable under him? probably.

but you. you.

to the father in the heavens and the spirits in the pits of hell, you had a body and charm no one else had. you made the humans around you look like useless trash, nothing compared to you

as you continued to dance, vox sips his drink imagining the different things he could do to you.

however he has to keep his composure that humans don't work the way demons usually do.

so he had to take it slow, step by step.

else he would be no different than the people throwing themselves at you, straight up asking for a good fucking without much to begin with.

you held more class than that, he could tell. you were rejecting their every whim after all.

after a round of dancing, you finally retire to the bar, only a few stools from vox.

he took this as his chance, giving you one of his (literally) devilish smiles. "good evening. tired from all the dancing?"

"how about you, kind sir? haven't lost it to the alcohol yet?" you tease, snickering afterwards.

to vox, it seemed like you were asking for it.

"i handle my drinks better than anyone in this club, mind you," he chuckles back, placing his glass down. "come, let me get you a drink. what would you like?"

you hum, resting your chin on your hand. you mention your drink to him and he calls the bartender for your order.

"your usual place on saturday nights like this?" vox inquires, leaning closer.

you nod, "pretty much, yeah."

"your drink," the bartender slides the glass over to you, to which you glug down quickly, parched from the dance floor.

"slow down now," the demon laughs.

you shake your head, gulping the burning beverage down your throat. "says the one who's been ordering drinks longer than i have."

even the way you spoke is testing him. he really is trying his best to hold back from taking you then and there.

thus became the first of many nights you and vox would meet up together.

oh, no, he was a gentleman the entire time!

he would properly take you home after a day's outing. he never forgets to bring you gifts whenever you agreed on a date.

not once did vox even mention he would like to 'sleep' with you the entire time.

because he knew it's not time yet.

when it's time, he'll pounce. he won't ever let you go after that happens. your body will become his.

"lovely to see you, darling," vox greets, handing you a bouquet of flowers as soon as you reached the restaurant you promised to meet up in

you giggle, taking the gift graciously. "how sweet. my house will turn into a flower shop with the many you bring me every time, vox."

"what can i say? i can't not bring one if i keep meeting up with a pretty person."

"oh, now you're too flattering," you sit across him, setting the flowers in your lap. "have you ordered?"

"yeah. i know what you like anyway," he shrugs, crossing his arms on the table to lean towards you. vox smirks, tilting his head, "so, tell me about your day, love."

to be completely honest without a hint of malice, vox never usually does this. if he's interested in a human especially, things would not have taken this long

the easiest way to explain it would be:

'waiting makes the results much more enjoyable'.

at least, for vox.

look at you, chattering away with your plump lips about your job, or some friends you met up with that day. your pretty long lashes fluttering like you're seducing him.

he would do anything to just throw you on that fucking table and ravage that sweet neck of yours, uncaring if it was a public area

perhaps, today would be the day.

as you continue to speak, vox fingers the sleeping pills in his pocket.

"gimme a sec, vox. bathroom," you stand, smiling.

"go ahead."

the perfect time to drug your food.

the bathroom door behind you closes and vox pulls out the already crushed pills, adding almost thrice the supposed dose. besides, he didn't want you to be awake during the entire time

you could be screaming, struggling, begging him to stop when he clearly wanted to keep going

he'll save that session for another time.

you return, sitting back down to eat again.

it was only a matter of time before those pills start to settle in

but with three times the dose vox put in, it really shouldn't take much time.

and it does.

once you got in the car, you've fallen asleep without saying a word to him. he chuckles to himself, taking your hand in his as he drove you back to his house where you'll be staying

for the rest of your life

vox sets you by his mattress, still heavily asleep, as he grabs the ropes from under his bed. red, his favorite color of course.

he strips you in a matter of minutes, leaving nothing but you in your own skin. just the sight of it is enough to make vox lose it. how was he gonna handle you later?

with expertise, the demon bounds your wrists and feet to the bedpost, tight enough that you couldn't even move an inch. you're spread out, nothing to hide.

just as vox was about to begin, you suddenly groan.

he freezes.

for a second he thought he was just mishearing, given how excited he was. but your eyes are fluttering open, pupils looking around your surroundings figuring out where you were and why the fuck you were naked spread out on a bed you didn't recognize

"vox?" you grumble, trying to get up. but you realize you're tied down.

he sighs, his moment of enjoying you for the first time absolutely ruined. seems like he was going to have to--

"fuck," you suddenly whine.

vox looks at you, and your face... god, your face was so deliciously red. were you enjoying this? why did you--

"fuck, vox, please," you beg, your hands clenching onto the ropes that held onto you. "do it already. do you fucking know how long i've waited?"

once he's sure that you're actually serious about what you're saying, he chuckles, leaning down to kiss your tear filled eyes. "i'm sorry, beloved. i'll get on with it."

"thank you!" you chirp, nuzzling into his neck. "can i ask for a favor?"

"hm? what is it, sweet thing?"

you look him in the eyes, pleading once more, "can you use a knife?"

oh you really were different.

"of course, my love," vox gets off you for a moment and pulls out a knife, freshly sharpened it seems. it makes your cheeks grow even redder at the sight of it, imagining how the demon will rake it down your body.

"use it on me, please. do with it what you want," you desperately request of him. "no, kill me when you're done. please, vox. i've always wanted to be killed by you. and only you..."

good fucking thing he took his sweet time with you, huh?

"kill you?" he smirks, once again straddling you on his bed. the cold blade meets the side of your body, sending shivers down your spine. "darling, i've got something better than killing you."

your eyes glimmer excitedly.

"now, shall we begin?"

what would be better than to be killed by the one you love, you ask?

oh, you know.

torture.

you forgot just how many times he slashed that knife over your skin, forever going to leave a scar there but not enough to kill you. he'd stab where it wouldn't meet any of your organs and lap away at the blood that leaks

you realized then that this was better than being killed

vox edging you of your death, then coming back up to inflict more love soaked wounds.

the sun rises and it's only then did the demon stop, panting from the much fun he's had since a century ago. he looks at you, half dead, covered in your blood like a sacrifice to the devil himself.

then he unties your ropes and places the blood caked knife in your hand with an aroused smile.

you look at him, dazed, "hm?"

"do it to me too, love. stab me, break me, mutilate me if you want," he breathes, pressing the hand holding the knife against his stomach. vox grins, "i'm immortal after all."

you peck his nose, driving the blade into his flesh, eliciting a pleasured and pained moan from the demon.

"let me get to work then, darling."

Mysta Rias 🦊🔶

the reality is:

you've never met mysta and he's never met you in person. you have never swapped even a word with this man so it's likely you never knew he existed.

but it didn't matter

the universe had already given you to him so he'll swallow all the small opportunities to see you

to be more exact, how mysta even knew about you was simply because you were in line to get your groceries checked out

the way you smiled at the cashier and how you gently spoke to them

he thought you were an angel that descended upon this disgusting world

what was someone as divine as you doing here?

the people here are going to taint your innocence.

that was it.

mysta wished nothing else than to have you all to himself, an angel that belonged only to him, smiled only at him, did everything only for him.

he wanted to save you from this world, and that became his only life mission upon meeting you.

so he followed you home that day, making sure that he tailed you without arousing any suspicion from both you and the people around him. but if people asked, he could easily show them his detective badge, reasoning he was only doing his job

it's worked so far

from his work of crimes, mysta knows that ambushes and the element of surprise always worked best. that's why he chose to hide away from you, wanting to enjoy you a bit more before he did what he had to do

mysta giggles at the thought

once you reached your home, he knew he couldn't continuing watching you from the window. someone will call the cops on him for that.

so, he jots down your address and returns home

he's got a camera lying around somewhere... ah, there it is. still usable and the sd card seems to be empty.

he was determined to have it filled with only you, you and you

"i'm sure i had a stuffed bear lying around here somewhere," mysta whispers to himself, ruffling through his old items in search of said toy. surely, you wouldn't mind a special gift from a secret admirer?

of course not

he couldn't imagine you driving away an innocent present like a stuffed bear!

that night, mysta learns how to plant the camera inside the bear. he surprises himself with how truly harmless it looked from the outside.

in the morning, he hurriedly makes his way to your door and places his gift down, ringing the doorbell before running away.

you open the door seconds later and do indeed find the animal down at your feet. you pick it up then look side to side, wondering who could have left the object. but you shrug and came back inside with the gift.

mysta grins and opens his phone, connecting with the camera inside the bear.

through the screen, he sees you carry the bear around your before deciding to put it on your bed.

perfect.

the detective went home, satisfied.

he was going to need a lot more gifts and cameras for this.

for mysta, it was an obsession from the start. the moment he saw you smiling for the world, that was it for him. this world didn't deserve your smile. and only he could save you.

every few weeks, a gift would appear by your door and you'd place it all over your apartment, much to mysta's fortune. he'd study how you walk around the apartment, memorized your routine, what times you woke up on specific days, what meals you ate, what you liked doing when at home

god it felt like the most fantastic movie he's ever watched in his entire life

but then cameras and anonymous gifts became insufficient for mysta.

he needed to feel for himself how soft your blankets were, the smell of your pillow, the specific shampoo and soap you used.

he needed to be there.

so after some consideration, mysta finally made it to your apartment in the dead of night. with trial and error, he also made it past you door and he breathes in the scent of your home

it made him go crazy and the fact he was in your apartment right now was too much for him to take

but mysta walks on, closing the door behind him as he inspects all the things you kept. he now knows what cereals you ate, what milk you go for, what bath items you personally liked.

then he enters your bedroom where you're fast asleep, curled up under the blanket

"you look so fucking adorable," mysta whispers, covering his cheeks with the back of his hand to feel just how warm they were. how could they not be? he was in the presence of you again...

he looks around the area, learning more of your favorite colors from your outfit choices, books you were interested in and the small things that you liked in life

then he stops by your underwear drawer.

his hands shake even at the mere thought of having one to himself. you wouldn't notice one pair missing, right?

a souvenir from his first day seeing you again would be nice too

so he pockets one, smiling.

mysta finally stands near your bed. he kneels down and breathes silently as he comes in close contact with you. look at you. look.

so fucking gorgeous. the world truly didn't deserve you.

his finger makes it to your cheek, creating a single sloppy circle then it travels down to your plump lips. he traces every inch of it, his mind drawing the scene where he would kiss these beautiful lips of yours

he could very well do it right now...

mysta leans in close, his nose brushing against you and his lips hovering just over yours.

but something stops him.

maybe... maybe not now. better not to push my luck.

so he pulls away and exits your home.

once more, satisfied.

he promised himself that his visits wouldn't be too often. once a week maybe. but mysta is not one to to commit himself to something. once a week became thrice a week. then it became every single night.

in the day he would watch you from his cameras, his hands aching to feel your things and your body. and in the night, as you finally fall asleep, he would enter your home like it was his own.

well, it might as well be.

his souvenir picking became even bizarre too.

from clean underwear became to ones you've worn, your old photos, your clothes that he would wear. at first, he would return them, but with time, he kept them. hung them up on his walls or put the special ones under his pillow so he could somewhat have a piece of you before he falls asleep

at this point, mysta would use your apartment like it was your own. used your electricity, your water, ate your food. and when he left for the night, he would never forget to place a ghostly kiss on your forehead, not really brave enough for your lips somehow

so it could help him feel like he was living with you.

but there was something he noticed.

while you'd usually keep your clothes inside, they're now laid out in the open. even some of your undergarments.

more of your precious items were carelessly placed.

wh-why was there a second toothbrush in the sink? an extra towel? two bottles of your usual shampoos and soaps?

could you have possibly known he was in the apartment? why the fuck were you indirectly welcoming him in like this?

afraid at the realization, mysta decides it was time to go. so he hastily while still being quiet exits out of your bedroom.

but just before he could grab the doorknob, something tugs at his shirt.

"leaving already, darling? you usually stay longer..."

h-huh??

mysta turns on his heel and he sees you, gripping onto his shirt tight while rubbing your eyes. wh-what?

"come on, you haven't even kissed me goodbye yet," you pout, pulling him closer to you.

his heart is in his throat, beating rapidly as he doesn't know what to do. so you did know. why the heck did that make you seem even more perfect? you beautiful angel...

god fuck

"you thought i didn't know?" you smile, giggling as you nuzzled into his neck. "baby, you go to my apartment all the time. but you never notice when i go to yours?"

now that he thought about it, he would sometimes find some of his things misplaced. but he thought that was just him being a klutz again

"i-i..."

you grin at his loss of words, wrapping your arms around his waist. "you're so cute, darling. always have been. can i have a real kiss now?"

what is happening--

"mysta, my love, please?"

oh. oh god. the way you said his name.

the detective finally comes to his senses, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he held your face and for the first time finally kissed you right on the lips.

the way you kissed right back, holding him by the back of his head excitedly.

"i love you, y/n," mysta whispers against your mouth, the passion dripping from his words.

you smile and respond, "i love you too, mysta."

then you pull away, much to his dismay. "hey."

"hm?"

"wanna die together?"

how did you...

"you like to talk aloud in your sleep, my love," you giggle. "i'd be lying if i said i didn't want the same. you're too precious for this world... and you don't need it either. it's just going to take you away from me one day."

mysta suddenly brings you in for a tight hug, a choked sob escaping his lips. "god, i love you. i love you. i love you. yes we can die together, sweetheart."

at this, you tug on mysta's hand with the biggest smile on your face. "come on, come on! i've always wanted to die during a sunrise."

"oh really?" he laughs, following you out.

you drag him up the stairs all the way to the top floor of the apartment complex.

with the sky looking more bright, it was only a matter of minutes before the sun decided to peek through. but mysta was glad. he could spend the last minutes of his life with you

and now you and him will soon be together forever.

him and his beautiful angel...

you climb onto the railing, balancing on your feet as you offer your hand to mysta. "come on, love."

he smiles at you then stands just next to you. "i dreamed of this moment so much."

"yeah, i know. i'm glad you and i can be together in the end mysta. i was worried that you wouldn't ever notice."

he laughs, "sorry about that darling."

then, the sky becomes bright and the sun is right there, saying both hello and goodbye to you.

mysta feels you squeeze his hand.

"i love you so much, mysta."

he was gonna save you. and this was it. this was all he needed.

he brings your hand to his lips, pressing one last kiss. "i love you so much, y/n. my angel."

you smile at each other, all before gravity decides to envelop you both in its embrace, never to walk the earth again.

Luca Kaneshiro 🦮🔆

luca was minding his own business, watching over the casino on one of his free nights with a drink in his hand. it was incredibly boring though.

just the usual snobby rich heads flaunting their financial statuses to each other.

it reeked of trash in there, despite the millions worth of money in building said casino.

so luca excused himself for the night and goes to the backstreet when he sees someone being harassed by some uncivilized crooks.

ugh, be it upper or low class, people really were absolute garbage.

luca rolls his eyes, pulls out his gun and easily shoots the men by the head without missing a single target.

their bodies drop dead and reveals you, your face splattered with your harassers' blood.

the mafia boss' heart suddenly skips a beat at the rather gruesome scene before him. but it was because of the messy crime scene that made his adrenaline rush.

your pretty face among the dead.

luca smiles, approaching you while offering you his handkerchief.

"rough night?" he asks, kicking away the bodies at his feet.

you sigh, taking his aid and wiping away the blood. "thanks, but yeah, these guys just show up out of nowhere."

"well, you did take the road in a suspicious looking backstreet," luca points out, causing you to blush red. he chuckles.

"fa-fair point..."

"need an escort home? you do have a pretty face," he grins, offering you his hand. you look at it, then back at him, your eyes flickering with shyness.

"u-um, no thanks. i'll be careful from now on," this time, you completely avoid his gaze, ears blood red. you skitter away, waving softly at him, "th-thanks again!"

that's it.

luca liked you.

just the way you hide away from his advances, not out of disgust. but more out of embarrassment. so shy and precious... luca had to have you.

even the mere thought of someone else making you shy like that

it made luca's blood boil and instinctively reach for his gun, his fingers itching to fire his entire cartridge just to stave his unfathomable jealousy

his mafia life could be so boring after all.

nothing but business in the dark, murdering people who didn't do their job well (and occasionally those he didn't like) and making sure his record is clean, far away from the reach of the police

he was so used to seeing fearful expressions, sometimes ones that were so serious like they'd never heard of a joke. perhaps he'd get the rare chance of a woman or two smiling for him, offering something he'd like, but they all have under-the-surface motives

they were all the fucking same.

it was just so monochromatic.

but then there was you.

the first person in his life to smile and thank him so genuinely without asking for anything in return.

the mafia life is all about trading one eye for the other.

but with you, it's the other way around

and luca liked it. no, was obsessed with the concept.

so, he had his men track you down. find out what you liked, where you worked, who your family was, if you... had a partner. he specifically asked them to bring both their kidneys if they found out you had one.

but to his fortune, you weren't seeing anyone at the moment.

then, luca finally decided it was time to pay you a visit during your work time. his own work was getting bored after all.

he promised himself he wouldn't touch anyone today, for your sake really. luca had to accept that blood and gore wasn't everyone's favorite...

so he strolled right into the building where you worked, ignoring anyone who tried to stop him as he went up to ask a random employee where you were.

"u-um, they're on the second floor, sir," they answer, pointing towards the elevator.

"thanks!" he pats their back before going to the designated floor, your favorite flowers and snacks in hand to help win you over for an impromptu date. if your boss fired you for ditching work, luca brought his knife with him to cut off a few fingers to do the exact opposite

just in case

once the elevators let him out, luca's joyful mood suddenly dissipates when he hears angry screams. he wouldn't have minded them if your name wasn't thrown around the room.

from the corner, he sees you standing still, your face dark as your employees look at you with irritation, your boss? supervisor? whoever the asshole was scolding you for doing something so poorly

how dare someone insult and embarrass you like this? his precious and cute y/n...

luca's gun is begging to him to be used. to empty his full cartridge.

but for you, he took a deep breath and waltzed right in.

"hey, who are you? you're not authorized personnel!" an employee yells, moving forward to stop luca from stepping in any further. but with a demon looming inside the mafia boss, said employee shivers when he meets with luca's eyes, backing away almost immediately.

"y/n, honey!" he sang, grabbing the attention of the entire floor.

you turn to him, eyes wide.

"sorry, who are you, sir?" the person who was screaming at you raised an eyebrow at him.

"you don't want to know," luca giggles, circling his arm around your waist. although he seemed to be smiling, the aura leaking off of him was not safe.

at the icky feeling, the man takes one step back. "it doesn't matter. we're in the middle of an important conversation."

"looks like a torturing session to me though," luca tilts his head, curling his lip like a child. "you're a bad boss for scolding them in front of everyone else, you know."

"they're my employee, i can do what i want," he hisses.

the mafia boss takes a deep breath in, ignoring his urges to just fucking gut the man. "they're my partner. it's my duty to protect them from bad people. like you and everyone breathing in this building."

you look at him, confusion lacing your face but the fact he was protecting and defending you was enough not to ask any questions yet.

he then proceeds to hand you your gifts, flashing you a sweet smile, "come on, honey. you obviously don't want to be here. my car is waiting outside."

luca tugs you away to the exit, but the man from before yells again like it's the only thing he can do, "hey! it's still working hours!"

BANG

"can you shut up for once? you're making sound pollution."

the bullet hit the windows, but luca did that on purpose. the screaming was giving him a headache for fuck's sake.

he tugs on your hand again, "let's go, hon."

once in the car, all you can do is bite your lip as you stare at your flowers and snacks. shaken? nervous? afraid?

luca sighs, grabbing your chin softly to look at him. "how long have they been doing this to you, baby?"

you can't help but tear up, hiccupping, "right when i started work..."

as angry as he was though, you came first. your heart was tired. so luca leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, hoping it would help your mental scars.

how fucking dare these people make you cry?

"it'll be okay, honey," he whispers, squeezing your hand. "come on, let's get something to eat. you don't need that job. i'm luca, by the way."

you finally smile.

there it is, the smile he'd been aching to see since you last met.

after your outing together, it was safe to say that you were in a different place now. you were smiling much more and laughing to luca's jokes.

still shy whenever he teased you.

yes, only to him. he'll make sure that happens soon...

he took you home, walking you to the door.

you turn to him, "thank you for today, luca. i hope i get to see you again."

he laughs, "of course we will! i'll come get you again tomorrow."

"of course," you giggle, opening the door. "i'll see you tomorrow then, luca."

"oh and by the way."

"hm?"

luca smiles, "i'll be sending you a gift soon. i hope you'll like it."

a very one of a kind gift.

"oh? i'm excited to see it," with one final laugh, you enter your home then wave at luca. "get home safe, okay?"

"i will!"

then he's off.

to get your gift of course.

he sits in his car, takes out his phone and makes a quick call. he growls when the line finally connects, "find me all the employees who work at y/n's workplace."

"roger, sir."

in a matter of minutes, he receives the list. all from the very top of the organization to the lowest. there was your name, one of the lower employees it seemed, despite being at the company for a long time.

he chuckles to himself, tapping the gun buried in his pocket.

he was finally going to use that chainsaw in his trunk. luca was worried that it would start to break down before he even got to use it...

you awoke the next morning to the doorbell ringing. groggily, you get out of bed and check who it is , but is surprised to see a black box sitting by the end of your door.

a note sits atop it, handwritten and scented.

you bring it back inside first while reading the note

'good morning honey <3 i hope you had a good sleep and also like the present i got for you. it was a little hard to get but i would do anything for my sweet honey~'

you smile, putting the paper aside and lift the lid of the box.

you are face to face with your boss' head, eyes still open and a bullet hole between his eyes.

meanwhile, luca is at his office getting some work done when he receives a text from you.

'i loved the gift, luca! i might actually have a gift for you too~ wanna see it?'

his colorful life with you starts to saturate even more, the feeling of love blooming even more from the underside of his heart. shocked as he was, his ache to see you only grew wilder. he needed you there with him right now

he knew you were different the moment he met you

practically not afraid of the bodies that drop dead at your feet.

so luca rushes to your house, knocking on the door fervently.

as quickly as he came, you open the door for him and drag him inside with the biggest grin on your face. it didn't help how your cheeks were bright red from joy.

"hurry! i want you to see it!" you giggle, pushing him inside the house.

he merely chuckles, letting you lead him. you then stop together in front of a closet. you point at it, beckoning for him to open the door himself. "go on, luca!"

"alright," he grins, twisting the door knob open.

wait... he's seen her face before. wasn't she that waitress he saw a few days ago?

well of course, only this time she's completely and utterly lifeless. her eyes gouged out leaving empty dark sockets behind.

"oh, wow," luca widens his eyes, looking towards you.

you hiss, glaring at the dead woman, "she was flirting with you. i didn't like it so i got rid of her so you would only smile at me from now on."

luca stares at you, his heart beating against his chest.

so adorable. yet as crazy as him.

how perfect.

suddenly, the mafia boss picks you up and spins you around the hallway, causing for you to burst out laughing despite being in the presence of the deceased

of course that didn't matter! he was with the love of his life after all.

"i only wished i could've seen you do it in front of me, honey!" luca smiles, putting you down to nuzzle his nose against you. "next time, call me when you want to take care of someone. i'd love to see you go crazy."

you giggle, nodding. "i promise."

Ike Eveland 🖋💙

he first met you when he went on a stroll around the park, simply trying to get a breath of fresh air in his mundane life

he saw your beautiful form sitting on a bench busily drawing on your sketchpad, your eyes laser focus on the subject before you. it was love at first sight for ike.

at that moment, he wished nothing more than to have your eyes focus on him. drawing him. and him only.

all his life, he's been trained to create something about someone. but he longs for when someone creates something out of him for once.

so, ike chose you.

he knew how other people worked. other people wouldn't simply say yes to be his lover on the spot and well, suddenly change their life so it could revolve only around him

well, ike wished you would do that but since it was his lovely darling, he was willing to be extra patient for you

he approached you, keeping his beating heart at bay as he spoke to you for the first time, "hello there, can i sit next to you?"

you look up from your sketchpad, flashing only the prettiest smile ike has ever seen in his life. "yeah, i don't mind. go ahead."

you give him one more smile before redirecting your attention back to your work, pencil tip already back to creating shapes on the paper

ike steals a glance at what you're working on

and he knew he made the right choice to approach you

it was absolutely beautiful

every single stroke of your graphite was flawless. all your lines shape your subject according to the image in your mind.

an image ike wished was him.

although he meant to merely glance, he finds himself staring at you continue to draw. the more he did, the more he wished he could ask you to have him as your subject

but ike had to hold himself back

so when the right time comes, all his waiting would be worth it

"you're a very skilled artist," ike comments. you turn to him in surprise, red rushing to your cheeks and ears at his compliment.

that's it. blush only for me, sweetheart.

you grip your pencil nervously, laughing softly. "th-thank you, sir. i practice."

"i can see that," ike smiles, leaning towards you a bit to take a quick inhale of your scent. oh how sweet... he was bound to remember your unique smell. "how long have you drawn?"

"as long as i can remember. it's my favorite pastime," you answer, a glimmer of passion in your eyes.

lord, only 60 seconds in and you've captured his heart completely. ike begins to imagine all the nights you've stayed up for just to master your skills, all the different drawings you've done in the past

and his selfish wish to have all your future drawings once again, only of him

nothing and no one else but him

he followed you that day back home, and once he's written down your exact address, he returns himself and heads straight for his writing desk

he wanted to write so bad upon walking past the doorframe.

all because he couldn't get you out of his mind

you've become his muse after all, so the inspiration comes spilling out. so much so ike does not want to even waste a single drop of it

he could render his wrist useless for all he cares, but he desperately needed to write about you

about your gentle voice, about your beautiful eyes, about your skilled hand in drawing, about your mind-driving scent

ike was going to drill your very existence into the history of the earth himself

every single day, he made sure that he would "coincidentally" meet you out in public. this would make a good excuse for him to keep interacting with you without having to dig for your information without your knowledge

befriending you first was his strategy

once he makes sure that you are wrapped around his finger, it's only then he will make his move

but ike knew that this method was going to feel like being burnt alive. far too painfully slow.

he just wanted to have you all to himself. have you draw him everyday as he wrote about you everyday. he deserved this after everything he's done for you.

oh the way you greeted him hello, offered him something to drink when he came over, or when you were excitedly talking about an art project you were working on

do you have any idea how you're squeezing and twisting ike's heart?

so he finally takes his chance.

he takes your sleeping self to his house in the dead of night, tucking you in his bed like you truly belonged there. actually, who was he kidding? you did belong there. always have and always will.

look at you, so helpless and innocent.

ike smiles to himself, the blush on his cheeks appearing upon really settling that you finally belonged to him.

but that smile falters when he sees scars near your shoulders and thighs.

something dark envelops ike.

who did this? who would dare hurt his darling?

but according to how he's monitored you, it couldn't have been anyone. you didn't often go out to meet people (besides him of course) and you lived alone.

he figured he could just ask you in the morning

ike half expected you to panic and run for help when you cracked your eyelids open, starting to accuse him of kidnapping you.

but as he patiently sips his drink when you sit up, he is beyond caught by surprise.

"ike? am i in your bedroom?" you ask, half awake.

he chuckles at you, "yes, darling. you are."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "why?"

ike puts his book and cup aside, crawling over to your side. "because you belong here, my love. don't you know? you are mine."

he's expecting the scream of terror, or the paling up of your face.

but you only frown, disappointed?

"you don't by any chance brought my art tools with you, did you?" your lips curl at him, your voice so fragile like you were about to cry.

now ike is the one to raise his eyebrow in question, "no? is that what you need, darling? i could go get them for you as long as you stay here."

your eyes light up immediately then you hold his hand, nodding. "yes, please! it's in the furthest room in the apartment. the one i never show you before. just take the whole bag, okay?"

still heavily confused but not one to refuse your every request, ike nods and places a kiss on your forehead before standing up. "be a good boy/girl and stay, alright? i won't be long."

you giggle, waving.

back at your apartment, he goes to the specific room you were talking about. it was true he's never seen it before, since you never showed him and whenever he asked, you always brush him off.

what was in this anyway?

ike cracks the door open and he is astonished by the inside.

all four side of the rooms, even the floors and ceilings, even the furniture were drawn upon. whether that be the wooden chairs, the bare walls, papers or canvas.

what makes ike's heart skip a beat is the fact they're all drawings of him. all in different angles.

the accuracy... god, you were talented.

the next thing he noticed is the strong scent of rubbing alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. why would you need...?

then ike realized just what you used as your drawing mediums.

hydrogen peroxide...the scars on your body...

tears prick the novelist's eyes, so glad to have met the most perfect person in the world.

how long have you been doing this? as long as he did perhaps? no matter, he'll pick up your... artwork later.

ike takes the bag you mentioned and goes back to his house, but he's worried the moment you are not in his room.

"darling?" he calls out, but you don't answer. ike begins to panic, checking every door for you when he finds you in one of his mysterious rooms.

yes, he did the same exact thing.

you stare at the room before you, the walls plastered with papers filled with poems and stories about you. written in the same medium you did with your paintings of ike.

your cheeks are burning red, a wide smile decorating your beautiful face as you turned to ike.

"did you like my work at home?" you giggle.

"did you like mine?" ike smirks, hooking you by the waist to bring you closer. "oh, my beautiful little artist."

you rest your head on his shoulder. "my beautiful writer."

such a matching pair indeed.

"move your head a bit to the side, love. yes, that's it," you clap your hands excitedly with one paint brush in hand. ike chuckles at your cute reaction, readying his quill and an inkwell filled with your blood.

he says, "can we start?"

you nod, dipping your tool into the jar of his blood mixed with rubbing alcohol. "let's create together, ike."

you two were going to engrave each other's existence into history, no matter if the world liked it or not.

art always has been an enigma in itself.

Shu Yamino 🔮✨

he was in a rush that day when he dropped his wallet after leaving a cafe. so much to do, so little time.

but he stops when he hears someone call his name as soon as he got onto the street. he turns around and sees you, the same cashier who served your order just before he left.

shu then sees you waving his wallet in the air, patting his pocket where it would've been.

it's this human kindness that makes his heart skip a beat for you.

you approach him, smiling while panting, given you've had to run after him. wallet in hand, you say, "you forgot this, sir!"

but he's too busy staring at you like you had grown ten more heads, receiving the wallet which you were handing back to him. "u-um, yeah... "

"be a bit careful next time, okay?" you giggle, dusting off your pants. "well, best you go on then! you were obviously rushing. i gotta go back to work too."

"ca-can i ask for your name?" shu nervously asks, pocketing his wallet. he had to. he had to get to know you. there was no way he was going to let you go, this kind hearted person.

"y/n," you smile. "and you?"

"i'm shu," he responds. "it was nice meeting you, y/n. i gotta go now though."

nodding, you wave at him as you jog back to your workplace again.

surely the cameras in your cafe were going to be easy to hack into.

he wasn't crazy. he was just... interested in you.

people nowadays are selfish. people only do things for their own things. sure they might do something for someone, but in the end, they'd ask for something in return. shu was both sick and used to this.

so when he received his wallet back from you, of course he'd be intrigued.

how could a human being be so kind...?

the next day, shu returns to your cafe in much better circumstances, hoping to see if it was your shift. luckily for him, it was. you busy yourself with cleaning tables around the cafe, humming to the current song playing

shu realizes then how absolutely beautiful you were. it was probably because he was in a nick of time yesterday that he couldn't notice much of your face

but with the slow pace of the day, he sees it now

of course, only the kindest people are beautiful. working so hard, smiling at all the customers who came through that door.

smiling at him when he walked through that door.

"oh hey, shu! i see you're back," you greet, placing the huge plastic box to rest against your hip. "here for another drink?"

shu smiles, nodding even though that was not his main purpose. "yeah, i needed a break from work."

"i'll be at the bar in a second, go wait up by the cashier!"

he savors all the precious seconds he gets to spend interacting with you, even if it was probably just small talk and discussions about his order.

besides, he'll be able to see more of you through his cameras later.

"will it be the same as yesterday?" you ask once you've put away your cleaning supplies.

shu raises an eyebrow, "you remembered my order?"

"o-oh! i'm sorry, you probably think i'm creepy. i just have a habit to remember people's orders. you left such an impression on me yesterday too," giggling nervously, you look away.

but this adds to your charm, shu thinks. look at you, hiding away because of something cute you did. remembering people's orders was a skill a barista could use, especially if the same customers will be coming back often

you truly were a different human being.

there was no way shu was going to let you out of his sight.

what if you met the wrong people? what if they take advantage of your kindness? shu just couldn't bare the thought of the world making you sad if those things ever happened

how else to prevent that from happening than to protect you himself?

he had sorcery in his veins, that sufficed to kill a hundred men at least.

after you made him his drink, shu goes to leave. but he doesn't go home. instead, he waits by the backstreet until your shift ended.

it was long into the day before he heard the door to the backstreet start to open. shu uses his sorcery to hide himself from view and out you appear, exhausted and ready to collapse from working for so long.

"god, i'm done," you sigh, tugging your bag to your side as you start your journey home.

this was it.

shu follows you back and once you've entered your home, he notes down your exact address and places a single camera. but with his sorcery, it makes it easy for him to place within your residence without much trouble and without being seen.

once he himself arrives home, he excitedly opens up his devices and connects with the camera he planted

this was how his obsession with you grew stronger.

there are no absent days where he's not opening his cameras to check on you. watch over you.

just look at how innocent and beautiful you look... so safe under shu's watch.

yes, this was a good idea after all. this way he knows you're safe.

but

there's something he's begun to notice, a few weeks after the first time he planted in that camera in your home.

from what he's noticed, the first few weeks were just you acting casual and well, being yourself.

but as time passes by, you begin to act... more poised. like you were acting for someone. was it shu or did you start wearing clothes that showed more of your skin?

one thing for sure though

shu could not hold it back anymore.

he couldn't resist just watching you. he needed to talk to you again. he needed to touch you. your skin, your hair, everything!

so, he makes his way over to your home, careful of his steps and any prying eyes. his heart is beating against his chest, extremely excited to even get to see you in person one more time

shu's hand hovers over the doorknob, commanding it to unlock. but after minutes of trying, he wonders why nothing has happened. not a sound of the lock was heard.

"is it...?" he wonders, grabbing the knob. then it swings open with ease. shu is baffled, "it was already open?"

you probably forgot to lock it, so he shrugs and enters your house.

he's watched you for a long time, he basically knows where everything is by now. where your bathroom is, where you keep your books, everything.

he wasn't your protector if he didn't know everything about you, right?

shu tiptoes to the bedroom and he finds you deep asleep in a position he never saw you in.

blankets covered all the way up above your elbows, but shu could definitely see you were... completely nude

"god, you're so beautiful," is the first thing he says, crawling to your side to study your beautiful face. it didn't matter if you were nude. in fact, it benefitted him.

his finger traces over your cheek, slowly down your neck and to your collarbone. all so smooth and like it's begging to him to be touched.

shu then pulls the covers off of you, a gift before him.

that night, he touched you. and by touch, more than tracing his fingers memorizing your every inch.

god, you felt too good. you were just so perfect.

when he finished and the hours slowly becoming dusk once more, shu sneaks out of bed and leaves without forgetting to give you one last kiss.

for that day of course. he was going to come back very soon.

because he knew he was never going to sober up from his drunk thoughts of your beautiful body and your innocence stolen away by him

actually, he wanted to see you today.

so, shu went to pick up a drink by your cafe.

ah, there you were. still as beautiful as the day he met you, seemingly unknowing he had so much fun with you last night.

your eyes meet his, and you flash him a smile like last time you saw him. "hi shu! it's been a while."

"yeah, it has," he laughs simply.

"the same?"

still remembered it huh?

shu nods, placing the amount of money to pay for his drink. he swore when you took the cash, you purposely brushed your fingertips against his.

he can't help but smile.

one day, he'll break in your house holding your hand while he does it with you squeezing him just as tight, crying out his name and wanting nothing else in this world but him.

one day.

"order for shu!" your sweet voice calls out to him. shu runs over to the pick up area and receives it, again your skin featherlight against his own. "enjoy your day, shu."

oh, he will.

he flashes you a smile as he went to take a sip, leaving the cafe to go back home.

when he sits down to get some work done, shu's head begins to ache terribly. was it because he was staring head on at his computer for too long? that and he stayed awake enjoying you?

"i should lie down," shu hisses, the pressure on his head getting worse. the moment he collapses on the bed, his eyelids are already closing

the last thing he saw being his bedroom door opened by a stranger

"shu, baby?"

"my love, come on, wake up."

"don't make me wait too long, shu, baby."

at the continuous pleads for him to exit the sleeping world, shu finally cracks his eyes open.

only to realize he's sitting in a chair, his hand bound behind the backrest and his legs tied to the chair legs.

the culprit?

"y-y/n?"

your eyes widen and a smile stretches itself across your face. your cheeks are bright red as you skitter over to shu.

"good, you're finally awake!"

so you were the one asking him to wake up from before... hold on, what happened again? oh... the drink.

shu couldn't help but laugh, lying back onto the chair as if he wasn't being tied tight against it. "sometimes i wonder if you became a barista only to find the opportunity to drug their drinks."

you giggle, proceeding to sit on his lap. "only for the cute ones."

"actually," he never told you his address though... and he's been watching you for a long time. how did you...? "how did you know where i lived?"

"oh, i thought you would be smarter," a grin paints onto your beautiful face. you trace his jawline, breath becoming one with his. "i had my eye on you the moment you dropped that wallet, my love. having a little peek inside wasn't that hard. also, shu, baby."

you take something from behind him and in the faint light, scissors shine as you show it to him.

you lick your lips, enticing his feral needs for you, "don't think you could get away with what you did last night."

shu's mouth is wide open, but his cheeks are bright pink. this didn't scare him. fuck no.

it made him even more excited.

you drag the blade from under his shirt, teasing his delicate skin with the sharp metal. then you start snipping his top apart, leaving only his bare chest for you to revel in.

"let me have a go, alright?" you giggle, throwing the scissors aside.

shu grinned, laughing himself as he pressed his forehead against yours. "you can have at me as much as you want, baby."

Masterlist!

#author chan’s delivery service 🧺 #nijisanji en #luxiem #luxiem x reader #vox akuma #mysta rias #luca kaneshiro #ike eveland #shu yamino #vox akuma x reader #mysta rias x reader #luca kaneshiro x reader #ike eveland x reader #shu yamino x reader #akurylic #mystart #drawluca #ikenography #yaminoart #yandere luxiem

[xoxiu]

twinkle - ot7 x reader

chapter 06 table of contents masterlist

join the taglist

summary: she had just wanted attention, that’s why she kept texting the strange number, updating him on everything in her life. little did she know how dangerous this relationship actually was. it had been jimin’s idea to kidnap the girl, but the ability to travel across the world to actually do it had been all hoseok’s doing. convenient how some things work, right? they knew that they were destined to have their baby with them, whether she wanted it or not.

tags/warnings: kidnapping, forced age regression, spanking, noncon, mafia au, drug use, stockholm syndrome, caregiver!bts, little!reader, nonsexual, diapers, panic attacks, fluff and angst, sickfic, referenced child abuse, unrequited love

a/n: i wrote this fic in 2018 on ao3 and wattpad, but im putting it here for archival reasons ♡

Ophelia's blood ran cold as Jimin stood up wordlessly. She began to shake out of fear as she was picked up from the highchair, expecting the worst. To her surprise, instead of a gunshot to the head or being stabbed with a kitchen knife, Jimin simply sat her down on the floor facing the corner. 

She opened her mouth slightly and turned around to face Jimin. He was approaching the spilled cereal (which had slid all over the tiled floor) with a broom and sent Ophelia a stern look once he realized she wasn't facing the corner. The look alone was enough for Ophelia to turn back around and start to fiddle with the bottom of her sleep shirt. 

It was now that she realized that these weren't her pajamas. These ones were soft and warm- very comforting in the chilliness of early spring mornings. The shirt was white with pink sleeves, and the bottoms were entirely pink. The clothes weren't that bad; Ophelia would've bought them for herself had she seen them in a store.

After what felt like three hours (in reality, it was more like five minutes), Ophelia heard Jimin humming a song. He intended it to be soothing to the girl currently in time-out, but it came across as more anxiety-inducing to Ophelia. She began to bounce her leg and bit her lip as her leg started to tingle again. 

"Five more minutes, baby."

Ophelia leaned her head against the corner, wanting nothing more than to turn around. Not knowing what Jimin was doing behind her made her incredibly anxious, and her breathing became more labored as time went on. She could turn around- she didn't have to listen to him. There was a door a few feet away from her which lead outside, so she could potentially get out of the corner and escape. However, her legs still felt like jelly, and she probably couldn't even stand no matter how hard she tried. She'd just have to endure until she felt strong enough. 

Once her ten minutes were up, Jimin looked up from his phone to find Ophelia shaking like a leaf. He felt bad for punishing her on her first day, but he couldn't let her tantrum go unpunished. 

"Shh, baby girl. You're okay." Jimin picked Ophelia up, ignoring how she flinched once he grabbed her. She was stiff in his arms, no longer squirming like she had been previously. Jimin was thankful that she wasn't fussing anymore, but also disappointed, knowing that she mentally put herself in another situation by dissociating from her current reality. As he reheated the bottle, he began to rub soothing circles on her back and softly talk into her ear, but nothing brought her attention back to the present. 

The beeping of the microwave caused Jimin to take his attention away from the pink-haired girl in his arms to take the bottle out. He made sure the milk wasn't too hot and then lightly bounced Ophelia on his hip- she still wasn't responding in any way. Jimin sighed and placed a small kiss on her temple. 

"How about we have your bottle in the living room? Then Mommy can put you down for an early nap, okay?" Jimin didn't expect a response back and started to walk into the living room. He sat on one of the couches and placed Ophelia on his lap, pulling her close for a cuddle before placing the nipple of the bottle to her lips.

This brought Ophelia away from her thoughts, and once she realized what exactly was happening, she shook her head from side to side so violently it gave her a small headache. Jimin held her head securely so she couldn't hurt herself anymore, but Ophelia still refused to open her mouth. He could tell she was beginning to tire herself out, so he let her use the rest of her energy.

Jimin repositioned himself and Ophelia so his legs were on the couch and his torso supported by the armrest while Ophelia laid in the same position as him, back to his chest. After the change in position, Ophelia moved her head to the side so her face was now buried in the back of the couch. Jimin didn't stop her, but instead simply set the bottle in her own lap and reached onto the end table for the remote. He turned the television on a kids' program with the volume low, hoping it would be enough to coax the girl out of hiding. 

"I know you're hungry, baby," Jimin said, running his fingers through the light pink strands of hair. Once Ophelia would be reported missing, the odd hair color would be one of the most defining traits the police would be searching for and they'd have to dye it. Jimin didn't want to; he thought it was a very pretty color that suited Ophelia, but understood what must be done for her own good. 

"You haven't eaten in nearly a day," this got Ophelia's attention- had she been here a day? She honestly couldn't remember. "Please at least drink your milk for Mommy, Lia."

"Stop calling yourself that," Ophelia mumbled against the fabric of the couch, feeling extremely shy from Jimin's words and her current position on him.

"If you finish your bottle," Jimin started, "we can watch cartoons or you can take an early nap. How does that sound?"

"No."

Jimin gave a breathy chuckle. He realized that she had to move her face sometime, but then it dawned on him that it was Ophelia, one of the most stubborn girls to walk the planet. Ophelia's stomach growled, only making her squirm further into the couch. 

Jimin got out from underneath Ophelia and laid her down on the couch. The sudden removal of body heat caused the girl to remove her face from the couch to curiously look at Jimin, not trusting what he was doing. She watched him take the bottle, placing it on the coffee table in front of her, then grabbed a throw blanket and tucked Ophelia in with it. 

"Take a nap, baby. Your bottle's right there if you want it." After giving her a quick kiss on her cheek, Jimin left Ophelia alone on the couch. Ophelia turned her head to see Jimin no longer in the room. She didn't know what to do now that she was alone. 

Very slowly, she sat up on the couch, still looking around the room to see if anyone was there. Her eyes caught the baby bottle still sitting on the coffee table, and her stomach growled in response. Any thoughts of drinking the bottle were gone, since she wasn't a baby and didn't even like milk. But she was hungry and began to regret not eating the cereal offered to her earlier. 

Ophelia laid back down on the couch. Her legs were still numb, so getting off the couch without injury was near impossible. The second best thing in Ophelia's mind was to go to sleep. Her eyes once again went over to the baby bottle as she mulled over the morning's events until her eyes became too heavy to keep open, forcing her to sleep. 

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #mafia au #bts little space #twinkle

[voolfman]

Bring Out the Dead Man

Sctir fanfic multi-chapter fic posted on ao3 by voolfman

Chapter 4

Anxiously, Yoojin drummed his fingers in a tight and fast tattoo against the top of his knee as he waited for the eternity to end and for the doctor to come back so that Yoojin could check up on that Myeongwoo and make sure someone else had not in fact bled out in front of him and well on him in the span of less than a week-

“Mr. Han,” and wow, Yoojin had not even noticed the doctor entering the room. Maybe he had used more mana than he had intended. “You have a clean bill of health,” the aging doctor monotoned, fixing his rimless bifocals, “There’s no no need to make another appointment unless something else comes up. Thank you and have a pleasant rest of your day.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Yoojin called to the quickly retreating man, grabbing his crutches and meeting Sunghan right outside the doorway. “Shall we go check on our fallen rockstar?”

Sunghan quirked his eyebrow up at Yoojin. “He’s two floors up in room 649. He’d lost a lot of blood and was pretty dehydrated, but they expect him to make a full recovery.” He pressed the elevator button and Yoojin let out a pent up breath as they were lifted to the injured man’s floor.

As they stopped in front of Myeongwoo’s door, Yoojin hesitated as he internally debated the wisdom of what he was about to do, but he clenched his fist, his nails threatening to bite into his skin, and knocked on the door.

For what felt like five years, but could have only been five seconds, Yoojin’s stomach roiled anxiously before a thin, reedy voice called out, “Come in.”

Yoojin gently slid the door open, “Hello! Glad to hear you’re going to be on the mend…Myeongwoo?”

The hunter, who was now sitting up somewhat in the bed in the brightly lit hospital room, raised his eyebrows almost up to his hairline as his fingers gripped the sheet. “Yes? Do I know you?”

“Ah, personally? I doubt it,” Yoojin chuckled quietly and somewhat derisively, “But I did happen to catch you before you tried to kiss the pavement?”

Myeongwoo’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, and, when not hidden by the stringy carpet of hair, Yoojin thought that he had nice eyes. Kind eyes. “You..helped me?”

“Well-” Yoojin scratched the back of his neck, trying to hide the slight redness that was creeping up it - “Mr. Kim here did most of the heavy lifting, really, I just became a cushion…”

“Thank you!”

“Whoa! You don’t need to bow-”

“Thank you-”sniff- “really!”

Panicking slightly, Yoojin scrambled up to the crying man’s bedside, “Hey! Uhh hey-hey, it! It’s okay! Don’t cry! You’ll open your stitches! I’ll uhh I’ll be back tomorrow…”

That got the watery mess to calm down. Wiping his tears and blowing his nose into the handkerchiefs Yoojin was handing him, he finally choked out a response. “Really?”

Internally heaving a massive sigh of relief at the fact that Myeongwoo was no longer sobbing his eyes out over an act of general, human decency, Yoojin grabbed his crutches and ruffled the man’s hair before it occurred to him that Myeongwoo was probably the same age as him (old habits die hard) and did his best to act casual despite his faux pas. “Yeah, really. Rest up, eat well, and we can talk tomorrow. It was nice to meet you, Myeongwoo.”

A starstruck gaze stared up at Yoojin similar to the likes of a kid doing his best to stay up in the hopes of meeting Santa Claus. “It was nice to meet you, too…?”

“Yoojin,” dripped hesitantly off of his tongue.

“...Yoojin,” Myeongwoo mumbled as his eyes drooped and he fell asleep.

Turning to Sunghan, Yoojin put his finger to his lips in a shushing motion and silently hustled the two of them out to the hallway.

“Phew,” Yoojin leaned against the wall, “Sorry, I hope you don’t mind if we come back tomorrow? I mean, I’m sure he’ll be alright, but…”

In the silence that followed, Yoojin was sure that Sunghan was thinking of a way to bring down the hammer of Yoohyun’s absolute rule. Honestly, if this kept up, Yoojin loved the kid, but there really was a limit - "I… would like to apologize.” It was a low rumble, a quiet admission, a gut punch that stole the breath from Yoojin as his weight was kept hold by the wall and his crutches. “I may have misjudged you.”

"...nah, I acted outta line at some points.” Wild how your whole perspective can do a 180° once you find out that your only remaining family member didn't immediately abandon you as soon as they possibly could. "Thanks for looking out for Yoohyun, though. He's always been a quiet kid, so appreciate your taking care of him."

An ever so slight smirk snuck onto Sunghan’s face as the two started to pick their way back to the car, “I only picked up where you left off. I can see where the Guildmaster picked up some of his more… unique quirks.”

“Yoohyun was a perfect child! What are you inferring?” Yoojin smashed the elevator button grumpily. Yoohyun was just a little emotionally stunted, that was all.

Instead of answering, Sunghan only chuckled and stated that Yoohyun was a very good Guildmaser and that he was incredibly lucky to be a part of the Hayeon Guild. Which was an obvious sentiment because of course Yoohyun was running Hayeon well, he was Yoojin’s perfect little brother who was standing in the kitchen cooking when they arrived back at the apartment.

“Why’re you here?” Yoojin gasped and raced across the apartment as fast as his crutches could carry him. The kid had at least five more days until he was supposed to have finished the dungeon.

Yoohyun turned away from whatever he was frying in the pan to speak to his brother.“I live here-” the spatula dropped from his hand and splattered sauce all around the stovetop. “Hyung! You’re covered in blood! Mr. Kim-!”

“It’s fine. It’s not mine.” Yoojin brushed away his concerns to pull Yoohyun close and examine him, pulling back his sweater’s sleeves and reaching up to tilt his brother’s face this way and that. “Not the point. Did you rest at all in that dungeon? It looks like you’ve got quite a pair of eyebags-” Yoojin bit his bottom lip, “You should’ve been in there for at least a week longer!”

“It wasn’t a difficult dungeon.” Yoohyun squinted in mild annoyance at Yoojin brushing off his own concern only to absolutely baby Yoohyun. Hypocrite.

“It wasn’t- It was S- rank!”

“An easy S-rank.” Yoojin called bullshit on that lame excuse.

“...an easy-!” No, Yoojin was going to step back. Yoohyun was 25 now. He was 25 and alive and Yoojin was still going to worry, wasn’t he? “ Anyway, while you are resting up, Yoohyun-” and you are going to rest was unspoken “- I’m gonna have to head out tomorrow.”

“No.” And that’s final, was left unspoken for him.

“Yoohyun,” Yoojin shook his head, it wasn’t like he was requesting to go into a dungeon, “I’m going to visit a friend I saw in the hospital.”

The disbelief was abhorrently evident on Yoohyun’s generally impassive face. “You … have a friend in the hospital?”

The silence following the question could have been compared to the vast, unknowable solitude of of the universe, only broken by the gentle and playful sizzle made by the oil in the pan. “You know what? That’s so rude. I have friends.”

“...” Yoohyun seemed to think that silence was the better part of valor in this scenario and pushed around the pork belly so as not to let it burn.

Refusing to back down, Yoojin turned to the man who had been accompanying him all day and to all of his past trips to the hospital for the past couple of weeks. “Mr. Kim, back me up.”

Sunghan, however, would never lie to his Guildmaster. “You met today.”

“And I saved his life, hence the blood,” Yoojin gestured to his ruined clothes, “ his blood. We’re friends.”

Yoohyun shot his Second in Command a concerned look before turning all of his worry towards his brother.“Hyung…”

“Mr. Kim will be with me, and Myeongwoo’s an F- rank, so it’s fine.”

“Fine.” Yoohyun could tell that Yoojin would not back down with this. He’d let him go, just this once, though. “Just be careful and be back before dark.”

Oh, how the tables turned, or at least that’s what Yoohyun thought. Really, was he that naive? Yoojin was 30. He was an adult. “Are you giving me, your older brother who raised you, a curfew?”

“I made lunch, Hyung-” the adorable little bastard had plated the food and it looked divine, holding it out to Yoojin.

“Your attempt at changing the subject is successful for the sole reason that I don’t want to fight, but I am going to the hospital tomorrow. You have work to do anyway. And for pity’s sake, make sure those under your care are alright after going through an S-rank dungeon at such a reckless speed.”

#sctir #han yoojin #s classes that i raised #han yoohyun #tsctir #the s classes that i raised #ao3 #yoo myeongwoo #kim sunghan #bring out the dead man #chapter 4

[lene-loki]

Hi it's me again I would like to request a matt fic where say Karen or Marci (love them both) makes a comment on how reader talks to much and then the reader is quiet for a good few days , then Matty boy comes to the rescue to make reader feel better

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Aww 🥺 I'm here for all the angsty Matt Fics! This turned out waaaaay longer than I intended 😅 It isn't completely proofread yet, I hope that's okay. Excuse any mistakes ❤️ And I know the saying goes "You wear your heart on your sleeve" but in my language we say "tongue" instead of sleeve and I went with that! 😊

I hope you'll like it! ❤️

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Female!Reader

Words: 3,5k

Warnings: slight angst, one swear word, fluffy Matt 🥺

Talk too much

It wasn't a secret that you wore your heart on your tongue.

Whereever you were or whatever you did, you shared your thoughts and stories from your life with anyone around you.

It never came to your mind that you were talking like a waterfall and that it could annoy people, because you were in your element when you spoke about something funny that happened to you the other day or just spread your goofiness amongst your friends.

Matt never had a problem with you talking too much.

He loved listening to your voice. He loved to hear about the silly things your life always seemed to have in store for you. It made working so much more bearable to him.

Right now he sat at his desk, his finger levitating over the Braille letters on a document he needed to read, but he couldn't concentrate on it. With a big smile on his face, he kept on listening to your ramblings although it only distracted him.

"Mrs Laney once said..." You continued your story of your childhood neighbour that you used to visit regularly. "That my mouth can't close around such a big heart and that's why I always say what I'm feeling and thinking." You giggled.

Matt had to chime in because it fit perfectly to you. He too could imagine that the heart you wore on your tongue was too big to let you shut your mouth - and he didn't wanted you to.

"You know, a classmate of mine in elementary school had a blind sister." You suddenly talked about a different story.

Matt was used to it that when you were in a talking frenzy, you would jump from subject to subject like a bee would fly from flower to flower. "Really?" He asked you interested.

"Yes! I met her once and she was totally different from you!" You said, leaning yourself onto your elbows on his desk. You were sitting opposite of him, watched him working while he kept on smiling about what you had to say.

It also wasn't a secret that you had a huge crush on Matt.

Sometimes you thanked the god's that he wasn't able to see just how red your cheeks turned and how sweaty your forehead became whenever he was around. You even talked more than usual to him because of the tickling of the butterflies inside of your belly. As if it was possible that you could speak even more words than you did already!

"How do you mean that she was different from me?" He askes curiously. "She was really scared." You whispered. "She didn't wanted to be treated like a normal person. She always walked around like she was made of porcelaine."

Matt growled thoughtful.

"Not everyone handles it the way I do." He said and you nodded, chewing on your bottom lip. "That's what I like about you. You could never talk to her, she shut everyone out - but you are reachable."

Your cheeks glowed. Unbeknownst to you, Matt could feel the heat radiating from you and how the temperature in the room suddenly increased slightly.

"But while we're on the subject; have you tried this new Italian restaurant close to the Bulletin's office?"

Matt snickered as you did it again. You just jumped onto another subject even though that didn't have anything to do with what you were talking about before. Like a bee losing its concentration because it saw another, maybe prettier flower on the meadow that it wanted to give its attention to.

Sometimes when you weren't around he would even nickname you Bee. He once did it accidentally in front of Foggy and he couldn't stop grinning since. The softhearted lawyer that he was, knew about your feelings for Matt and wished nothing more than for the two of you to be happy together - something you didn't know about.

Well, you knew that Foggy knew about your crush but not that he dreamed just as much as you did about being together with Matt.

"No, I haven't actually." And then he said it: "We could try it together some time." He smiled and you felt your heart jump.

You actually were speechless after his suggestion.

Was he asking you out? Were you misinterpreting something into his words?

The longer you looked at him, the more your heart felt like it wanted to free itself out of your chest and jump right into Matt's hands - were it would be safe and happy forever.

"You are so quiet." He noted, showing you his teeth while smiling so brightly.

"Yes! Yes, I would love to!" You maybe said a bit too loud and too enthusiastically. He laughed, his heart beating at least as fast as yours did. Even though no one said the word date, your mind started to float around fantasy scenarios in your head, where you two were romantically dining in the candlelight with you wearing your most beautiful dress and you almost sighed intoxicated from all the adoration and love you felt.

You were still all giggly and jittery when you left the office with Matt, Foggy and Karen that evening.

Foggy and Karen couldn't hold back their laughs at your excitement that you were unable to contain. Your happy mood was contagious and so they decided to hold onto the evening for a little whiler longer and went together to Josie's instead of calling it a night.

You were all having fun, laughing, sharing funny stories and drinking. Except you only drank one beer since you already acted drunk!

And the truth was, you didn't needed alcohol to lift your mood. You always seemed to be in the clouds.

After an hour, Foggy asked blushing for permission to invite Marci as well to the bar. It was clear that the redness didn't come from the alcohol alone.

When Marci arrived, she immediately ordered a drink before coming to your table. "What are you all having with this trash bag?" She asked uncomprehending, pointing around the bar.

"Josie loves us." Foggy shrugged, not knowing that Josie had heard him at the table behind us and she didn't agree with Foggy's statement at all.

After a while of chattering, laughing and more drinking, you started to notice the look on Marci's face whenever you started talking - which was almost the entire time.

You tried not to pay too much attention on the woman while you continued to tell the four about that one christmas even when you were seven years old and caught your brother in the middle of the night already hunched over the presents underneath the christmas tree. "Well, I am the little one so why should I have been the responisble one?" You grinned cheeky while everyone laughed. Except for Marci. "So I joined him and we opened our presents in the night before christmas morning at almost four am. My parents found us in the morning asleep on the floor with wrapping paper all over us!" You finished your story, earning another chuckle from Matt who sat beside you.

You took another sip of your water and excused yourself from the table to go to the bathroom - mainly because you needed to cool your face down somehow. Sitting so close to Matt did more to your body than you ever expected you could feel.

"Oh, I'll accompany you." Marci smiled, standing up.

You didn't think much of it as she followed you to the restroom. While you were splashing a few droplets of cold water onto your burning face, Marci disappeared into one of the stalls. It was when you shut the water off, that she suddenly began to speak from behind the small door.

"Don't take it personally, okay? But you are really talking a lot." She emphasized her last word and you could hear the annoyance in her voice.

You forced yourself to chuckle nervously because of course you took it personally. "What do you mean?" You asked.

You knew that you loved to talk but no one ever seemed to be annoyed. "You just talk a lot of shit that no one cares about. We are just trying to enjoy our evening and don't want to hear family stories from you." You heard the flushing of the toilet while you had to swallow hard. Her words somehow felt like you got punched in the gut and you had to fight against the familiar prickle of tears behind your eyelids.

They didn't care?

That was all what you thought about until she stepped beside you at the sink. She showed you a smile, not being aware of how much her words were hurting you. She held her hands under the stream of water and whispered: "Just try to talk a little less."

She said it as if it was a kindly advice from friend to friend but it sure didn't feel like it. You just nodded, unable to speak because you knew your voice would break. After Marci dried her hands with a few paper towels, she went back without looking at you again.

All alone in the bathroom, you allowed yourself to a shed a few tears and to sniffle. You tried to get yourself together as fast as possible - surpressing the urge to sob. With reasonable dry eyes, you returned to your friend group as well. You couldn't focus on their conversations, you were too distracted by what Marci had told you in the bathroom. You couldn't help but to wonder if they really didn't care about what you had to say.

After a minute longer, you decided to call it a night.

While you were saying your goodbyes, you didn't sound as cheerful as before and everyone seemed to notice. Matt sensed that something upset you and it made him sad to think that something or someone managed to erase your inner light and he could feel himself getting pulled under the shadow by your sudden darkness.

Nonetheless he let you go home, although he began feeling as hurt as you seemed to be. As if your souls were intertwined.

The next day, Matt couldn't concentrate on his papers - but unlike the other times when you were talking, the deafening silence distracted him. He could feel you in his office, how you stapled away documents he didn't need any longer.

Usually you would tell him the tiniest details about your morning and what you had for breakfast - but since you arrived you hadn't spoken a single word to neither of your colleagues. Worrying Matt to no end.

"(Y/N), is everything alright? You've been really quite today." Matt spoke softly, while removing his fingers from the document he tried to read for an hour now. You just hummed, wanting to make as little of a noise as possible.

He sighed. If you only knew how much Matt loved your stories. He relied on his hearing the most of all of his senses and somehow you managed to talk in a way that made his mind imagining the scenarios you spoke about. It almost felt like seeing a movie or a television show in his own way. He didn't wanted the dreary silence. He wanted to hear you talk. Because he reached a point in his routine where he couldn't work without getting accompanied by your angelic voice.

You didn't answer his question.

"I was thinking about this saturday for our date?" Matt smiled shyly in an attempt to lighten up your mood. He even called it a date and it seemed like your heart didn't beat at all anymore. You were like a completely different person.

You weren't as excited about going out with him anymore like you've been the day before. You were now insecure about the amount of pointless stories you would force onto the poor man, not being able to keep your mouth shut. You didn't wanted to make Matt go through such a torture. And afterwards he would probably be tired of you and your voice for the rest of his life. That wasn't something you were looking forward too anymore.

"I can't." You lied softly.

Matt knew that you didn't tell the truth and he just trusted you opening up to him when you were ready. He wouldn't push you, even though he could barely hide the disappointement of your date probably not happening.

Your silence lasted for days. You even stopped coming into his office anymore, hiding away in the empty corner's of the office to do your work on the floor. Now and then Karen and Foggy would come up to you, trying to figure out what made you so quiet. Matt missed you around him. He wanted you back in his space, fooling around with him more than actually doing work.

When he decided to take a lunch break, he came up to you. Even though he couldn't see you in every detail, he knew you were sitting on the floor lika a heap of misery, surrounded by documents you didn't touch because you were still too distracted by hurt feelings.

"(Y/N)?" Matt said gently, crouching down to be on eye-level with you. You still looked him in his eyes out of a habit, although his pupils were hidden behind his red lenses.

"Would you like to grab lunch with me?" he asked hopefully, his heart fluttering.

Before you even had the chance to answer, the door swung open and Marci walked in. "Foggybear!" She called through the office and you could immediately hear a chair scraping over the floor. "Marci!" Foggy smiled brightly, appearing beside you and Matt now.

While Marci and Foggy shared a hug and a kiss, Matt got up on his feet again, smiling kindly at the blonde woman. "Hi, Marci." He greeted her.

Her attention landed on your miserable looking form in the corner and she smiled widely. "Isn't the quiet just wonderful?" She sighed, winking at you, before adding: "Good job, Honey."

"What?" Matt asked suddenly confused.

Did Marci just praise you for being quiet?

"What?" She replied.

"What do you mean with telling (Y/N) she's doing a good job?" He felt himself getting angry, as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place.

"Why are you so mad? You should be thanking me. Now she obviously learned when it's time to shut her mouth." Marci said, not even once seeing what the issue was.

She hurt your feelings, she made you believe that no one cared about you, she took your confidence with her. Now Matt understood why you've been acting this strange lately. Ever since you were in the restroom with Marci, you've been quiet and upset. Now he knew why.

"Did you tell her to keep her mouth shut?" He asked in disbelief.

Marci still not understanding what the big deal was, nodded.

Foggy inhaled now audibly, pushing his girlfriend softly away from the raging Matt Murdock.

"Alright." The blonde lawyer stammered. "Let's get something for lunch." He said, urging Marci out of the door.

"I promise I'll talk to her." He whispered to Matt before disappearing with her into the hallway.

Your nose began to tickle as you kept on surpressing the tears in your eyes, threatening to fall.

"(Y/N)." Matt crouched onto the floor with you again.

His hand reached for yours and he hold it lovingly, awakening the butterflies in your stomach again.

"Have you been so quiet for this reason?" He asked and you sniffled.

It wasn't really an answer but somehow he felt confirmed in his apprehension.

He absentmindedly startet to rub circles with his thumb on the back of your hand. "I miss your voice." He admitted softly.

You turned your head in his direction, new tears already developing in your eyes, as your heart painfully cramped up. "Really?" Your voice came out as a whisper, hopefully watching how the corners of his mouth rised into a bright smile. You admired the laugh lines besides his eyes, your heart racing with the new thought coming to your mind, that Matt did care about you.

"Of course." He said. "I love listening to you, (Y/N). Without you being around me, everything feels so dark and lonely." His smile faded into a more serious look on his face, as he turned his head towards you - to let you read his face.

You smiled through your tears. "I thought I annoyed you." You lowered your gaze. "Marci told me that I annoyed all of you, so I figured I would do you a favor and just didn't speak at all anymore." You admitted, looking at your entangled hands and feeling the heat creeping up to your cheeks once more.

His other hand found its way to your cheek and you asked yourself in embarassment if he could feel how hot your skin was.

"You would never annoy me, (Y/N). Please don't listen to anyone who tells you otherwise." He copied his thumb movements from your hand on to your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered close, enjoying the butterflies flapping their wings inside of your body.

"Will you work together with me in my office from now on again?" He whispered, his cheeks getting redder by the second.

"Yes." You said softly. Still being a little insecure about it.

He squeezed your hand lovingly. You liked to think that he felt the same as you, but you couldn't read the emotions on his face properly - his glasses were blocking the most important windows to his soul.

As if by itself your hand moved slowly to his face. But before grabbing the the lenses by the frame, you asked him shyly for permission. He hesitated, before he nodded.

You freed his beautiful eyes from the red shades, admiring the sparkling brown that seemed to house so many of his emotions and you already wished to see his iris skins more often.

His unfocused gaze went back and forth as he fell completely silent after removing his glasses.

He immediately regretted his decision to show you his eyes.

It was the part of him that he felt the most insecure about. A lot of people told him straight up how uncomfortable they felt by seeing his eyes all through his life. Mostly he just brushed it off, but with you it was different. He was frankly scared that you would react to his eyes the way the other people did.

"I'm sorry." He said, groping after his glasses on the floor, which was still in your hand.

"What are you sorry about?" You asked genuinely confused, still being lost in his beautiful eyes.

"My eyes." He swallowed. "They tend to make people uncomfortable." He explained.

It was true that his pupils were larger than normal and his eyes couldn't focus, but that didn't disturb you in the slightest.

"They are beautiful, Matt." You said sincerely, watching how a deeply moved smile grow on his lips.

You didn't purposely destroy the silence of him and you just enjoying the bonding of your two souls and the love in its purest form laying itself on top of the two of you like the coziest blanket in the world.

But you just had to let your thoughts run out of your mouth again. It just was in your nature - and Matt loved it.

With his eyes shining in adoration, he listened to you talk about how your sister's husband bought a pet snake yesterday. It was random, had nothing to do with the moment you shared before and again he compared you to a little bee, enjoying its life and happily flying over a beautiful meadow of thousands of flowers - picking every flower you could.

He let his head rest against your temple while he listened to your list of advantages and disadvantages on why Matt should get a dog. The most important argument was of course that you loved dogs and he laughed heartily. Unable to contain himself, he gently pressed his soft lips against your forehead - silencing you unintentionally.

But he knew you weren't quite because of shock or discomfort.

Your heart on your tongue just grew double the size, making it impossible for you to be able to say a single word.

You smiled in the bliss of falling in love with Matthew Murdock even more.

Closing your eyes, you leaned yourself against him, just wanting to feel his warm skin through his clothes, heating you up and enjoy the fast pace your heart started to beat in suddenly.

You two just lingered there together right on the floor, cuddled up to each other with the biggest smiles across your faces, until a very surprised Foggy returned from his lunch break.

#matt murdock #marvel #mcu #marvel mcu #angst #imagine #marvel imagine #charlie cox #daredevil #fluff #matthew michael murdock

[girlwithwolftatoo]

hello!

i just saw that you take requests! (And I hope they are open rn lmao)

I don't really know a lot of people who write for Arthur so im very happy rn!

So could I please request an Arthur Harrow x Female Reader?

I just thought about an fluff / angst fic which the reader tells arthur that she got daddy issues and she's afraid bc a lot of people made fun of her about it and in the end she just wants a person that is like a 'caregiver' to her?

I'm not an expert in explaining things so I hope you understand what I mean.

I just think that the whole 'Daddy Issues' thing is way more than a lot of people think.

And i just felt insecured about it bc people made a lot of fun about me sooo i would be happy with some arthur who is comforting :)

I hope you are okay with writing something like that and If not, im really sorry for the ask :/

Hope u have a great day tho!

Soooo here it is! Ended up being a little longer than expected but I think we needed some good context for this one.

Where is the shepherd for this lost lamb?

Warnings: family ab*use, viol*ence.

It was customary that when a member of the community was marked with the scales, a small celebration was held in their honor, nothing fancy or extravagant, but it meant a lot to the newcomer, that regardless of their age or how long they had been among them, they could now be considered a chosen one, an enlightened one who would live to heal the world. So, when a rush of people caught up with Harrow to show him that a girl younger than you had gotten her mark, you felt your soul leave your body.

Arthur was proud, hugged the girl warmly and congratulated her on being blessed by their goddess. You smiled, your body dirty with dirt from having been weeding some planters and a freshly healed cut, and you applauded just like the others. You should have felt happy, they were all like a family, a village where the achievement of one was the glory of all, but in reality, your eyes stung and your mouth tasted bitter.

You were not going to ruin that girl's party, so you left early, only after a hurried dinner. Like other people who had no family within the community, you had a room of your own in one of the buildings, but as soon as you entered you kicked a small table so hard you almost knocked it over, and then started shaking.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid" you repeated as you pulled your hair. You went to the bathroom, even though there was no one else in the house, and locked yourself in to cry out your frustration. 

Maybe you were wrong about yourself, you thought as you rubbed your face so hard that your eyes became irritated. Maybe Arthur had been too compassionate with you by letting you join them, really good people, with a promising future... When had you ever had such a thing? Hadn't you already learned it many years ago?

"(Y/N), I am a woman. I have my own desires, my own impulses... now that you are older, I can accept it without feeling that I am unfair to you" was what your mother said when you were thirteen and you found out by chance that she was dating a man. You were happy for her, but there was something empty in your chest that grew when, only a year later, you learned that they would have a child together.

"Why don't you spend a few days with your father?" she questioned you, the afternoon she had to go for you to the principal's office because you were found smoking in the bathroom "You haven't talked to him for weeks" She was wrong, it was months "I understand that you feel pressured with the new baby, but he is your brother, you will love him when everything passes, you don't have to be unfair".

You saw the little one in his crib and you were sorry you didn't feel the great love that your mother assured you should feel. That rosy face was sweet, yet every time you stretched out your hand to caress him, you regretted it, and fled like a criminal. The only safe place in that house was a hole in the wall that had been intended for a closet, and you ran your hands over the old scribbles you made on the wall for years, when you pretended not to hear the screams and cries.

"What's wrong with you, (Y/N)? Is it some teenage thing I don't understand or are you throwing a tantrum? You've never been like this before. I'll call your father to-"

"I don't have a father," you finally blurted out. Your mother looked pale, she had had to pick you up from the police station for an altercation at a party, and you still had dried blood on your blouse.

"How can you say that?" she asked you with tears in her eyes.

"Because it's the truth, Mom" your lower lip trembled, you couldn't stand to see her cry, when she did, you remembered those intense, horrible weeks leading up to the divorce, where she would spend her time crying and making soup, and crying again, while he angrily reminded her that he had two families to watch over and that she was a mess. You had survived by laying low, but you knew what was coming by then, and the only thing you regretted was that it hadn't happened faster.

"I'm not going to let you throw your future away like this because of your tantrums. Albert came with me, he's outside waiting for us and he helped me with your bail, at least apologize to him..."

"Why, did I make him mad?" you snorted under your breath, with a sarcastic grimace. 

"He wouldn't have to go through this..."

"I know, I'm not his daughter."

"I didn't say that."

"But it's true, isn't it? Al's a nice guy, but honestly... I'm left over between you."

You were unnecessary everywhere, you were a blind spot, an uncomfortable lump that occasionally got in the way. You knew it since your father started forgetting your birthday, since you saw his networks flooded with pictures of him with his new family, since that time when you met him by accident in the street and, rather than admit you were his daughter to a co-worker, he preferred that idiot to think disgusting things about you. 

"Stop it!" your mother's hands hit the table. You didn't even flinch, it seemed as if your feelings were buried in a place you couldn't reach "You're ungrateful! All we've done for you, all the patience we've had! Do you know how many times I hated picking up the phone and talking to your father?"

"I never wanted you to" you answered in a hoarse voice "I told you many times that he had left us, Mom, but you wouldn't listen. You wanted me to keep talking to him...for what, mom? He never wanted us"

"Don't say such things!"

"But it's the truth! Why did you always force me to keep looking for him, uh? What did you want to achieve?"

"I wanted you to have a father so that you weren't going to be...!" the words seemed to pile up on her. You saw in her eyes the fire of resentment, of the anguish she could never release, the fear that her perfect world would fall apart again. She was fragile. Fortunately you were not.

The night before your eighteenth birthday you showed up at the building where your father lived. He owned a rich penthouse where he spent much of his time, life was smiling on him and he could afford to live apart from his second family as well, with whom he nevertheless got along much better than he ever could with you. You circumvented security, wrote "FUCK YOU SHIT DADDY" on the door and smashed a bottle of cheap alcohol against it to set it on fire. You knew the incident would not get very far thanks to the fire alarms, but that childish revenge that was like a rite of passage into the gritty life that awaited you made you immensely happy.

For a few weeks you were living anywhere, London had some shelters where you would arrive and spend most of the day, and at night, in the company of certain people you couldn't exactly consider friends, you would hang around the crowded areas looking to pick up a few pounds from drunken partygoers that would eventually be spent on alcohol, cigarettes and junk food.

Murphy's law was not long in coming, and one of those nights things went wrong. One of your colleagues picked the wrong victim, and you saw him fall after the devastating blow of a cricket bat. Almost everyone abandoned the boy, who was bleeding profusely and screaming for forgiveness, but you stood by, transfixed, looking for some way to help him. The bully with the bat took a second swing at him, and from your companion's cry of pain you knew he had broken his leg.

"Stop!" you stepped forward, terrified. The guy was tall and stocky, whatever he had taken had made him more aggressive.

"Are you with him?" he exclaimed, coming at you "Answer me, you bloody rat!"

You narrowly dodged the first blow, and the enraged guy lashed out at you with his fist. A dull, throbbing pain told you that he had just connected with your face, and you staggered before managing to grab hold of a trash can. A hand grabbed you by the hair and you were thrown to the ground, unable even to scream as the blow knocked the air from your lungs. The cricket bat clattered beside you, teasing.

"Did ya think ya'll were gonna rob me?" you heard it, mocking and rabid "Did ya'll think so? I'm gonna break every goddamn bone in your bodies!"

A foot landed right in the middle of your back, making you squeal. You hadn't thought much about death ever, it seemed to you something mysterious and quiet that appeared suddenly to certain people, people who enjoyed life generally, and you didn't. And so it was then, you were going to die but that meant nothing, you had no future, and the past was too horrible to treasure. You were a rotten fruit, and now someone would finally pluck you from the tree.

"Wait! You don't want to do this, believe me"

The voice that spoke was different, low, slow. You heard your attacker snort, at the climax of his bloodlust. You dared to raise your head a little, and saw a pair of feet a few steps away advancing towards you, shod in simple leather sandals.

"Get out of here, old man!" shouted the guy with the bat.

"You want to get blood on your hands without even knowing if it's the right thing to do?" 

"They were going to rob me! Are you going to defend this scum?"

"You don't want to hurt them, you're scared..."

"I'm not scared!" the guy brandished his bat, threatening the stranger with it. "Get away, get out of the way!"

The other man was still approaching, he was leaning on a cane that gleamed silver. Since the guy had taken his foot and his attention away from you, you could see better what was going on.

"True justice does not seek to indulge in suffering" the stranger held out his hands, as if seeking to embrace his enemy "A better world is coming..."

" You' re crazy!" 

The guy swung his bat, but it collided with the newcomer's cane. The bat got caught in the grip of the cane, and then, the man wielding it reached out his free hand and grabbed the other by one wrist.

"It's a pity," he whispered. The eyes of the guy with the bat popped out of their sockets, and seconds later... something big and heavy fell behind you. Some new footsteps came closer and you saw some silhouettes approaching "Take care of the other boy, please."

The man with the cane then laid his attention on you. You were trembling, your face was bloodstained and you had several scrapes where the skin was unprotected, and the stranger, helping himself with the cane, knelt down and held your face by the chin. He had long blond hair, with silver highlights here and there, and his eyes were a stunning blue.

Then you remembered why you were there, and you felt fear. Your eyes went to the staff, which had two crocodile heads carved on it.

"You're scared, I understand" he whispered "But you have nothing to fear for tonight."

Adrenaline brought the first tears, which stung as they touched the bleeding parts of your face. The man was still looking at you, and that made you uneasy as well as fascinated, you didn't remember anyone had ever seen you like that.

"Thank you" you whispered with great sincerity. The man smiled, and gently, so as not to hurt you any more, wiped away a tear with his thumb.

"What is your name, my dear?"

"(Y/N), just (Y/N)."

"Would you like to come with us?"

You frowned, confused. That's when you noticed that, around you and your colleague, who had passed out, at least half a dozen people were gathered.

That night you met Arthur Harrow and his community. That night you had died and been reborn, and you saw before you a hope and a second chance.

But perhaps you had been too lenient. Perhaps, you thought when you could no longer see straight after so many minutes of crying, you really should have died.

"Here you were." 

You barely  reacted when the door opened, but you realized that the one who had arrived was Arthur. Embarrassed, you hid your face in your knees.

"Please let me" you asked in a choked voice. Arthur sat down beside you, sympathetic as always, and busied himself stroking the crocodile heads on his cane.

"Perhaps others refuse to accept that in every garden there are spiders" he commented "but the bad times are just as important as the ones that are good. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"

If you felt bad before, it was worse now. 

"I'm so sorry" you stammered, sniffling through your nose "I didn't mean to...really forgive me."

"You think I'm mad at you, (Y/N)?" Arthur turned so he could look at you, and you felt his hand reach for yours "Why do you think you're unworthy? Does it mean that much to you that Ammit hasn't pointed you out yet?"

You knew there was something unique about that community, something that eliminated it from the cult of madmen trope, but when you thought of Ammit it was as distant to you as any other god, it was possible you would never even get to meet her in person. No, it wasn't because of Ammit.

"I did a lot of bad things... I don't justify them" you explained. Arthur's hand was still holding yours "I always hated my father, for what he did to mom... but I also abandoned her... I'm a bad daughter, how could I be a good person? The night we met I was really trying to rob that guy, my friend had better luck than me, I guess, because he died"

"Give me your hands" Arthur demanded nonchalantly. You obeyed him immediately, you felt that that was the least you could do "You know very well how the scales work, your fears and insecurities cloud your judgement, could you accept that of our goddess?"

You let him place the crocodile heads on your wrists, Arthur looked at the scale on his forearm, but you only looked at him. You didn't care about the outcome, you knew it beforehand, but in that darkness that would have shattered others you found your own light. Harrow had saved your life, and it was he who was to take it from you.

The blue eyes went to yours, undecipherable.

"Your heart is wounded," he said, and put away the cane "It is not evil that nests in you, but immense sorrow. You were abandoned at the moment when you most needed to be protected, and you lost your way."

So many times you had boasted that neither of your parents made the slightest effort to look for you when you disappeared, that now you didn't understand why that made you cry. Arthur took you in his arms, holding you close to him, and you clung to his shoulders.

"All I want" you sobbed "is for someone to care about me, to believe that I am enough."

"You are enough" Arthur murmured, stroking your head "And I care about you very much"

"But I wish you cared only about me"

That confession was so sudden that it took you a few seconds to realize what you said.

"I'm sorry." 

Harrow took your face in his hands, smiling at you. You on the other hand felt your face burning with embarrassment.

"Is that what's wrong?" he asked.

"No, I... sorry, it's not right..."

"(Y/N), desiring things is not a sin. If to heal your heart you need a little more from me, I will gladly do it."

You hugged him again. Your sorrows and worries seemed to have disappeared with your tears.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, my dearest."

#moon knight #moon knight series #moon knight fanfiction #arthur harrow #arthur harrow x reader #arthur harrow fanfiction #ethan hawke #marvel #tw: family problems #tw: violence

[quetzalpapalotl]

☕ (I don't really know what topic to give you XD I just want to hear your thoughts)

Well, okay, them I'm just gonna ramble about my Proteus and Nominus fics Your carefully laid plans and In Name Only, which may not be a good idea since they're so short spilling everything about them can ruin the point of letting them say what they want to say, but honestly, I think everyone who would read them and would say something about them has already done so.

(well this ended a longer-than-intended analysis)

I should put them in a series or something because I think they work so nice as companion fics and both are made under the same logic. I wanted to give depth to Proteus and Nominus, but not in the sense of giving them redeemable traits or complex motivations. They are bad people, but they're still people, so they have people-like reasonings and feelings, not just evil brain impulses (no disrespect to Sunbow Megs, we stan). And honestly, I'm proud of how they came out.

Originally, Proteus fic was going to be about how fun it would be if he had actually romantic feelings for Sentinel "romance is for the mentally deranged" Prime. That's still there in the fic, but you have to squint really really hard. It felt like Proteus derailed what this was about and I couldn't convey it properly because Proteus would never admit to something like that in his own head, not that it matters how Sentinel feels because either way he belongs to him. It's a pitty Proteus died without discovering Sentinel's true alligances dtasjgdh

Instead this became about how Proteus is so fucking full of himself dfsaghdsa. Well, I think he's interesting (pre-war politics, my beloved), he's not quite an hypocrite like the Functionist Council are because he doesn't really have an alliegance, he changes his public stance on the Decepticons and Functionism and whatever depending on what's useful to him, very realistic politician. But in my experience, these kind of people still feel entitled to what they have for one reason or another. Proteus deserves his place because he can get it.

And you know, canon makes it clear the Council was the one really calling the shots for most of Nominus reign, it wasn't until the trail end of it that the Senate started gaining more power. And given that Proteus is always scheming and pulling strings and Sentinel is explicitly called his puppet Prime, I really do think it was thanks to Proteus that the shift in power happened. But you know, you have to run as hard as you can to stay in the same place. Proteus must always be scheming, must always be sure that he's hanging onto that power.

It's implied in canon that Proteus used the anti-functionism sentiment to gain power over the Council, but allowing that to grow is going to be his downfall and he does not yet realize that. He's not dumb enough to think he doesn't have to keep an eye on it, but he still thinks he can control it. I like the sense of irony on the whole fic.

And with all that in mind, we get to Nominus who is... well, okay, he's lame. He has no speaking lines and everything we know about him in canon points to a lack of agency you wouldn't expect from the Prime. He's caught in the middle of the Council and the Senate's power struggle, he's just a figurehead. The Council has been the real power all this time, either Proteus and co. take over and kill him to put a Prime that better suits their needs, or the Council destroys the Senate and also kills him while they're at it. He has no power, no allies and not even a real matrix.

He has to be aware of his own impotence and it must get to him. Especially when he's succeding a figure as shining as Nova, the hero of the Civil War, he who united Cybertron. How can he compare to that? He's just a phony. But is because of that that I think he's able to accept his death with grace. After so long, he's used to his own powerlesness, unlike Proteus, and at least now he can stop pretending and struggling to hold to an empty title.

But he has been holding onto it, so he must have learned something. He knows how these power games work, so he's able to figure out Proteus.

The fic makes reference to a person Nominus used to be close to. This is as off-shoot of me figuring the backstory for The One Most Worthy, because to be able to add a Lord Protector to IDW1 while the rest stays the same Nominus must have had a LP, he's not really important to TOMW's plot, but he must have existed and his choosing sets the precedent for how Optimus' candidates are selected, since Nova just made the title to placate Galvatron and Sentinel didn't have one because he's gay an homophobic.

So I gave Nominus a Lord Protector with whom he shared a vision (bigoted beliefs) and genuine affection. And it would tie nicely if the reason Nominus had so little power at the end was because was little he had, he lost while he was busy mourning his conjux while the schemers kept scheming, and now without his main ally, there's nothing for him.

Of course, Your Name Only is meant to be canon compliant, so Nominus didn't have a Lord Protector, but I liked the idea of Nominus still having a similar figure in his life. Again this is about the bad people looking like people. And fiction sometimes makes it seem like bad people can't genuinely love other people or is used as a tool to make them seems redeemable or have them do something heroic. But no, bad people still have loved ones, bad people still mourn.

I honestly really like how Nominus came across, he's actually pretty relatable to me and I love that, I love that people in the comments also found him relatable.

So there's a beautiful symmetry to these two fics. Proteus who is highly active losing it because he struggles to hold to his power, while Nominus who is quite passive accepts his end with dignity. Proteus disliking Nominus came as natural result of how I write him, someone who takes pride in all his hard work has no respect for Nominus who from his perspective, does nothing and doesn't deserve his title.

Anyway, I'm really happy with these fics, if nothing else because they do feel like something no one else but me would have done.

#thank you van #idw1 #proteus #nominus prime #quetzal rambles tf

[absenthiium]

hello absenthium. it is mid fucking night at the moment and i’m probably going a little insane but i felt the need to speak with you. i’m the commenter that told you your t4t rasey fic reawakened the rebellious trans child within me, and what i’m going to say to you now is long and will probably sound venty even though it’s not intended to be, but i needed to speak to you.

i realized i was transgender when i was 12 in the end of the 2019. i was lucky enough to be in an area and time where everyone knew and at least sort of supported trans people, as we all had the internet and social media, so i didn’t deal with much there. but there was something deeply unsettled within me, i didn’t stand for being misgendered or deadnamed, or anything of that happening to my friends. i chopped all my hair off and dyed it bright red. everyday, i wore a black denim jacket i’d gotten from hot topic when i was like ten and decorated it in every single dark patch i could get my mom to sew on it.

i was 12 years old when blm was kickstarted in 2020. it was my first interaction with anything activist, because i was born pretty lucky and they don’t teach elementary schoolers the gritty intricacies of reality, and as angry at everything as i already was i lunged into it teeth bared. i ran a social justice account on instagram and poured every second of every day into activism, and making everyone else see what i was seeing. unfortunately, what they didn’t teach newbies back then was how to take a break, or what was disguised term rhetoric or that it actually didn’t actually matter whether i watched all those videos of people getting graphically murdered, and that it was okay that instead of making me angry they just made me scared. so, after about 2 years or so i burnt out hard and had to be physically dragged off and kept off my plate by the people who loved me. by then, though, i’d realized not a soul was ever listening, and everyone thought i was just some annoying little kid, so i didn’t even care, because what was the point of anything if nothing ever happened?

i stopped feeling angry, at anything and everything. i got deadnamed and misgendered, but it was just my life. i was only logically aware that i was transgender, but it no longer mattered, because everyone was going to see me as a girl no matter what, and as a girl who had no advantage in a fight whatsoever, it was in my best interest to keep my head down and voice low. i viewed that as who i was, and still sort of do, that i was nothing more than a soft-spoken caretaker, someone who fought but just wasn’t good enough to win, because i wasn’t a person who won fights, and i wasn’t a person who wanted to fight anyone at all. the kid who did was dead and long gone.

and then i read your fic, and i became so acutely aware that this kid inside me was alive. that the kid who wanted nothing more than to colour their knuckles red with the blood of nazis had never died at all, i had just left them there to. and i didn’t really know what to do about it, so i just kind of told you and kept going.

but i kept getting drawn back to that fic, and to your account. to this punk movement little me wanted nothing more to be a part of. i started listening to punk rock, and found myself enjoying it in a way i couldn’t explain.

and then i started dreaming. most of my dreams are nightmares, usually about me getting hurt and being scared, but these ones were… unlike anything i’d ever had before. i was furious. in these dreams i screamed over the men that screamed at me, when i had spent so long taming my instincts into calming them down by all means necessary. i reached out and clawed their flesh with my bare nails until blood ran down their faces. i screamed bloody murder and tore doors off their hinges in the faces of people who weren’t listening, people who weren’t helping me. i tried to forget about them when i woke up but they lingered and settled in me uncomfortably and stubbornly, and i found myself back at your account, and as such, in your spaces.

and i found myself questioning what had happened to me. why did everyone suddenly get to push me around? why was this just how i live by virtue of being born a woman? why did it no longer matter when people misgendered me and deadnamed me despite knowing? when did i get so used to all this disrespect that being submissive to it became part of my identity as a person?

i don’t much know where i’m going anymore, but i’m wide awake with this deep sense that i need to be fighting and people need to hear my voice, which hasn’t gotten to me in so long. i’m alive. i’m alive and i didn’t know i was dead at all, i just thought i had matured past the preteen angst and anger we all experience.

i had forgotten what it felt like to be alive and awake.

i’ve forgotten a lot of things.

thank you.

hey, friend.

thank you for sharing your story with me. thank you for your words, and for your anger. it's alright, it's normal to be scared: the world we exist in was built specifically to tear us down, to make us afraid to live - to make us small. and it is scary. just as activism is draining and hope can seem hopeless. please do hold on to your rage. not to make it eat at you, but to give you power. draw your anger from what you love, from the things and the people you want to save, from the parts of yourself you might miss if you didn't fight to keep them. you deserve all the red, be it from hair dye or the (metaphorical or not) blood of Nazis and violent men.

i know it's hard. i don't always know if it'll get easier. i'm older than you are now and i often feel like i'm just getting started. but it's worth it, and it will be. you're fighting a good fight, and people do need to hear to your voice, just as you do have to raise it if you want to.

i'm honored you told me all this, and that my little story got to be part of your journey. wherever you are, whoever you are, i hope you are safe, and very loved. and that you'll keep fighting.

rock on, friend.

[samspenandsword]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙🤭

Aww, Julie!!! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Honestly part of my brain is like "YOU MAKE SAM CHOOSE BETWEEN HER BABIES??????" and the other part of my brain is going "Literally all of them are garbage and even they know it" lololol so doing this was really hard for me. But I've chosen and I'm posting this before I can think too much about it and change my mind.

Kheresankh - I know I haven't exactly published much of anything for this story, so I linked the prologue of the first installment, but my OC Danai has been in the works for so long and I am honestly just so proud of what I have written for her. I can't wait for you all to go on this journey with her, all through the Clone Wars, to her meeting Rex, and everything that comes after. Also, my headers for this story slap 💅

Just This Once - This was the first smut piece I had ever published. In all my years of fanfic writing, this was the first smut piece I was truly confident enough in to publish. As someone who identifies as asexual, I truly wasn't ever sure if my smut writing was very good, just cause I have no personal experience with that sort of thing. What reads as "sexy" to me might be really weird to others. But, I'm a total whore for Cody, like, legitimately, so I went for it, and the response was just so much more than I could've ever hoped for. This piece genuinely does just hold such a special place in my heart and I'm very proud of it.

Welcome to the Faire - Okay this one only has a hint of a pairing to it (with Thrawn; I am unfortunately, unspeakably attracted to him 😔) but honestly, I'm proud of it. It's very narrative heavy, and I know that isn't for everyone. But I've been thinking about this piece lately cause I went to the Renaissance Festival again last weekend (where I spent a truly obscene amount of money and regret absolutely nothing), and the Ren Faire was the original inspiration for this piece. But people also told me that they felt I really captured Thrawn's voice in this, and honestly, there are fewer compliments better to receive than this one as a fanfic writer.

Midnight - My newest piece! This Boba smut fic really took me out of my comfort zone as a writer, because I just don't really have much insight into the d/s scene and brat-taming. But I still tried to do it and Boba justice while adding in some fun and feelings to the piece. It's new, I literally posted it last night, so there's not much feedback yet, but I'm still quite proud of it. It also ended up being longer than I intended, and I love giving you guys long fics to read!

The Coffee House - And of course, how can I not list the story that completely helped my blog take off. In a way I never expected or could've hoped for. Commander Fox was always underrated in my opinion, and I wanted to explore him a little bit more, but then I found @amikoroyaiart and her art of Fox is just so fantastic. I became obsessed. And I started wanting to write my own coffee shop story for him. Thus, The Coffee House was born, and six parts later, there's a plan for at least six more. It's kind of slow going, but I love this story with all my heart and I'm so glad to share some fluffy, coffee shop goodness with you all.

Thank you so sending me this, Julie!! Ily 💜💜💜

For more of my stories, as well as my moodboards and dividers, please proceed to my Masterlist! And don't worry, my Kinktober 2022 is going to becoming Kinktober 2022/23 lol.

For some of my favorite Star Wars art, my tag is #sam's favorites

For some of my favorite Star Wars fics, my tag is #sam's recs

#inbox #self recs #writer self recs #fic recs #rexxdjarin

[addictedtoopium]

The Beauty Of A Cat (In Human Form)

|| Choco Milk Shake Bl ||

Pairing: Milk/Jungwoo’s Uncle

I always use the actors name bc calling him uncle seems weird yk

.no warnings apply, fluff, toothrotting fluff, comfort no hurt, just a really fluffy and sweet fic

——————————————————Summary: Seung-bin being whipped for Milk and all his catlike glory while trying to enjoy his day off.

——————————————————

Milk was always fascinated by cats since he became a human. He liked to watch them go about their day as he never knew how fascinating he might of looked as one. He loved the way they moved, the way they pounced when playing with their toys, and the way they lounged in the sun without a care in the world, a habit that he noticed he himself had that hasn’t quite gone away. Despite what most might think, Milk has no problem with not being one anymore. He traded his original body for being with the ones he loves longer and he’s made peace with it. Seung-bin is always rushing to tell his lover that he is quite literally the embodiment of a feline to ease his mind a bit, and though Milk appreciates the gesture, it’s simply not needed. Plus, people find his new appearance attractive and he’s always had a slight thing for praise.

Although It’s not like Seung was wrong in the slightest. Milk was indeed just the human version of the cat he once was. His body was long and skinny, with limbs that moved with an effortless grace and poise that all dancers should be jealous of. His sharp canines were always on display, and his sleek black hair was always perfectly groomed. Seung would take random pictures of him and he would always look ethereal. He even had a tendency to purr when he was happy.

That friday morning was humid but not overbearingly so. Milk was in his shared room in just boxers and Seung-bin’s shirt, which was oversized on him. He’d just walked out of the bathroom after his shower when he noticed a small ball of his yarn had fallen out of its designated bin. His honest intention was to put it back and tidy up the room but knowing he would concede anyway, he starting playing with it. Lightly tossing it across the room so he could retrieve it and using his perfectly manicured nails to unravel it until it was around his body. He was so lost in his play that he didn't even hear his boyfriend come home.

"Hey baby." Seung-bin chirped as he entered the room, unable to stop the fond laugh he let out after noticing his lovers predicament. “What are you up to?” The lop-sided smile never once leaving his face as he gave Milk all his attention after putting his bag down.

Milk looked up at him with his piercing brown eyes, as he could swear he felt the weight of the tail he no longer had twitching behind him. "Just playing," he said, his voice soft and melodic as he cast a glance around the room to see that he made a bigger mess than intended. Seung smiled as he squatted over to pet Milk before reaching in the bin to grab another ball of yarn and tossing it across the room for him; as he chased after it, Seung-bin stood up and walked over to the bed to grab his laptop. He placed groceries orders and calculated the utility bills while occasionally looking at his lover to make sure he was doing okay.

After a few minutes of play, Seung suggested they go out and explore the fair that had come to town. Milk was hesitant at first, not wanting to leave the comfort of their room, but he would comply for his boyfriends sake. The older man deserved to take a break and play too, so he thought it was only fair. He’s never been to a carnival either so it can be fun. As they walked through the fair, Milk’s senses were on high alert. The bright lights, the smells of fried food and cotton candy, the sounds of people laughing and screaming filled him with a slight fear. His anxiety at an all time high. Seung-bin felt a little bad as he forgot that Milk was a house cat, and the most noise he had ever been around was Choco.

He was ready to take his boyfriend home and swear that he would never put him in this situation again but Milk wanted to be there. “Binnie, I wouldn’t have come if i didn’t want to spend time with you.” he hummed as he gently rubbed his boyfriends chest, something he found always calmed him down. “But you’re obviously uncomfortable, and we can spend time together at home.” Seung-bin objected as he grabbed Milk’s hands and placed a kiss on his palms. “It would just have to be midday because I have to look over and approve applications.” A pouty Milk grabbed Seung’s hand and dragged him along. “That’s exactly what I mean baby, You have work for the next few days so just have fun now okay?” “But-” Cut off by Milk’s kiss and being ushered to concession stands, Seung decided to just accept his fate and enjoy his day. Stubborn kitty he mused. Chuckling to himself as Milk looked his way. “You having fun?” And with the biggest and most dopey smile, that made Milk’s heart skip a beat, he kissed his boyfriend breathless. “My stubborn kitty.” The words made Milk feel giddy with a small smile on his face as they went on to enjoy their day.

They played games, won prizes, and even went on a few rides. Milk loved the feeling of the wind in his hair as he soared through the air on the Ferris wheel. Choco would laugh at me right about now. Milk sighed as he laid his head on his boyfriends shoulder. (which Seung internally cooed at).

As they sat on a bench, eating cotton candy and watching the sun go down, Seung looked at him with admiration. "You’re really are beautiful. I wouldn’t trade you for anything..You know that right?" he said, running his fingers through Milk’s hair.

Milk purred contentedly, his head resting on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I know," he said. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."

They spent the rest of the evening exploring the fair, enjoying each other's company and the excitement of the carnival. And as they walked home, Milk couldn't help but feel grateful to have someone who loved him for who he was, cat-like tendencies and all.

#fluff #blfluff #bl shows #choco milk shake #choco milk shake bl #bl fanfic #bl fandom #korean bl

[lightneverfades]

Frostiron AU (WandaVision) -  Episode 9

Here’s a few more of the WandaVision Frostiron AU I made! :)

Storyline: (Contains Spoilers)

< Story is set in an alternate universe set after Thanos is defeated >

Loki is alive, lives through the events of End Game but loses Tony in the fight when Tony sacrifices himself to use the Infinity Stones. Loki can’t cope with what’s happened and resurrects Tony from the dead and creates an alternate reality where they are in a sitcom, living as a happy couple... to shut out the real world.

Note: The fic is a continuation of this post and this post!

x x x

“Stark...” Loki whispered, as the green, static walls started to slither towards their home. He’d done what he swore he would not do - he had dismantled the world he’d created to save the man he’d brought back from the dead. He shouldn’t have, and yet he did it, because Tony had asked him to be a better man… To be more than the god of mischief, a creature of lies that he, Loki Laufeyson, had used to hide his true self behind for centuries until he’d met Tony Stark, a mere mortal that had gone and done his own dismantling, melting the ice in Loki’s veins. 

The first time he’d met the quick-witted, charming mortal with his spontaneous, almost chaotic genius, Loki hadn’t been himself. But even then, the Loki that had been under the Mind Stone’s influence had noticed how unique this man was, even as he rebelled against him. 

After his defeat and thus regaining his consciousness back from the Mind Stone, he’d been fortunate -or perhaps unfortunate the first time around- to find himself in Tony’s company more times than he’d liked. Numerous times Loki dreamed of trying to kill Tony just for the incessant frustration the smart man could conjure up in him, but the more he tried, the further Loki was thwarted until these schemes of mischief and possible murder ended up with a glass of whiskey in his hand. 

Before long, Loki was repeating the man’s surname with more fondness than he thought himself ever capable of for another living creature. It wasn’t long before he started helping Tony on the little things, eventually gaining himself a pardon from S.H.I.E.L.D and the U.S. government. He wasn’t free per say, but becoming a ‘valuable asset’, as Tony put it, to entice those with power and money, would definitely be better than finding an enemy in a god who was capable of causing much mischief and chaos. 

Loki could still remember the way Tony had winked at him and his teeth shone with a smirk, causing Loki to scowl, but inside he’d felt far from annoyed. His fool of a lover, who he had come to know as ‘Stark’, ‘Tony’, ‘Man of Iron’ and then ‘Anthony’ in their tender and private moments, was vouching for him. And that was enough to cause him to smile at the end of the tedious meeting with Fury and the rest of the Avengers team, his brother included, who’d given him a long stare. Loki had laughed like a child with Tony when they’d finally got a chance to curl up together, embracing each other in the comforts of Stark’s silk beds and put Loki’s new freedom to good use by making love. 

Then Thanos had come into the picture, changing everything and turning their world inside out. Loki saw the world shrink and divide the Avengers. He knew he had been one of the lucky few; Thanos had spared Stark’s life. He had been grateful he hadn’t been disintegrated along with the rest of the world. 

Loki had been able to reunite with Tony when the Titan had taken fifty percent of the population from all planets of the universe and called it ‘peace’. While Loki hadn’t quite cared as much about reviving the lives of those lost, he knew Tony was. When ‘hope’ in the name of ‘Ant Man’ came knocking on their door, disturbing the quiet and harmony Loki had established in their humble little cabin, they’d fought. What good was it to bring back those already lost when he, Loki, already had everything he wanted? He was selfish and every part of him wanted nothing to do with helping the Avengers. He’d almost been able to persuade Tony, but then he’d found the genius working away in his workshop, solving an equation that could lead to time travel… and thats when Loki knew Tony wouldn’t stop, now that he knew there was a possibility he could have helped. No amount of reasoning and pleading would have helped. 

The day they faced Thanos together, Loki had felt a wriggle of trepidation but he’d decided to ignore it. Pride blossomed in him; he’d never felt more proud to stand by Tony’s side as they fought the beasts that tried to bring them down. It was only when Loki saw the look in Tony’s eyes when the man went to pry the gauntlet off of Thanos did he regret all of the decisions he’d made. The world crashed and burned, ashes of its aftermath basked and settled on his shoulders as Tony’s sacrifice saved the lives of all but the man who made it.

How dare you leave me here! What about me, Stark! What have you done! Loki raged even as his anger ebbed away, replaced with tremors of agony and sorrow. A cry so forlorn and riddled with despair left his lips as Loki cradled the body that barely contained enough life to keep his Tony alive.

“Lo..k...i...” Tony’s last breath had trailed off with his name on his lips.

Now here he was... standing before Tony, both palms touching the shorter man’s cheeks and feeling wet tears on his skin even as Loki felt his own slip from the corners of his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Lokes,” Tony spoke and both of them knew what his words meant; he was sorry for asking Loki to be good, selfless and ultimately causing their own happiness to come untethered. In a few minutes, Loki knew the chaos magic he’d stretched out to envelop Westview will converge back to him, and he would lose Tony once more. 

“I had hoped we’ll have more time...” Loki admitted, and he could saw the look of pain in Tony’s eyes as he wiped the warm trail of tears off of Tony’s rugged cheeks.

“I never meant to leave you, Loki, you gotta know that. You’re the reason I did what I did back then, and I don’t regret it. Not while you’re standing here in front of me,” Tony said, his eyebrows furrowing. He gripped Loki’s waist tighter, pulling him closer, unwilling to let go of him.

“I know, Stark.” 

The sound of static was so close now that Loki could hear it crackling away as if it were right at his ear. Urgently he caught Tony’s lips in a kiss, and that only made his actions more desperate, his hands brushing into Tony’s hair as the man reciprocated him in kind. They weren’t just one whole of two pieces; Loki felt as if every moment he was tangled in Tony’s embrace, he were being molded, like iron being smelted into shape to reform around this source of heat.

“I assure you, Stark. The sun will shine on us again…” Loki whispered.

“I love you,” Tony breathed, the sadness making way for acceptance as well as he stole another kiss, even as the world around them started to dissolve. 

Piece by fragmented piece, Loki felt the magic he’d created start to dissolve back into its original space and with it, absorbing the life he’d given back to Stark. He held Tony, even as he saw the bravery in the man’s eyes. 

“I’ll see you again, Reindeer games.” 

It ended quickly, the house they’d lived in in Westview disappearing, becoming nothing more than a plot of land again. A hush settled as Loki held Tony’s body in his arms, the heavy weight of the man without the essence of his soul pressing into him as the loss sank its claws within him. But unlike the first time Loki lost Tony, he wasn’t voicing his pain. He clung silently, letting the wave of grief washing over him.

Loki didn’t know how long he knelt there, but when he finally came back to himself, the day was already dimming and the sunrise was starting to set. The orange glow that bleached the ground and shadowed over him caused his heart to clench tightly at the sight of it. Setting Tony down gently on the soft dirt, he used his magic and returned his body back to where he belonged. The body shimmered and glowed under the sunrise before vanishing.

Slowly, Loki got to his feet and looking back at the hues of darkness that started to ebb away at the sunrise, he turned his back and left, his magic glimmering in its wake. 

#frostiron #wandavision au #can you tell this is a TO BE CONTINUED post? xD haha #okay so the fic became way longer than i had intended #i hope i didnt make Tony too OOC #Or Loki too for that matter #anywhooo #I have shamelessly taken the quote for Thor and incorporated it with Tony LOL cause in this storyline Loki didnt die and therefore didnt #say those words to Thor before he actually died in Infinity War #my drawings

[cherienymphe]

Gangsta’s Paradise (Michael Gray x Reader)

WARNINGS: DUB-CON BORDERLINE NON-CON, blackmail, loss of virginity, (for the sake of this fic let’s pretend that Finn Cole is taller than what he is okay)

! DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU !

➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

summary: an agreement with the Peaky Blinders is almost a done deal...until you catch the eye of Michael Gray. You’re suddenly thrust into the equation, and your father must decide between losing everything or losing you.

~

Soft lips brushed over your bare shoulder, even softer hands guiding the strap of your slip down your arm, fingers dancing along your skin. Despite the cold weather outside, your room was sweltering, and you pinned it onto the man behind you...the man who was currently unwrapping you like a gift. With fear coursing through your frame, you realized that in a way, you were a gift. A pretty little gift given to the big bad gangster in exchange for resources and protection and whatever else your family needed.

Your eyes fell closed, and you thought back to the day where your father’s desperation had first begun. Desperation that you had ultimately underestimated.

You had been nervous as you tended to the dishes that day, glancing at the clock every now and then. Cleaning and tidying up was how you coped, how you attempted to calm yourself. It normally worked, but today was an exception. Looking around, you realized that there was nothing else to clean, and with a sigh, you leaned against the wall, biting your lip.

The rest of the family had gone to Birmingham. They’d gone to handle...business, and you being the only girl in the family since your mom died, you weren’t allowed to have a hand in the business. It had been a great deal of bitterness for you for years, ever since you were old enough to understand what was really going on, but now you had gradually accepted your father’s reasoning.

Your father and brother and uncles had left early, taking some of their best men with them. You knew they only did that for serious matters, and you had been worried ever since you saw them leave. You had scrubbed the house from top to bottom, and now you had nothing to do but wait. It was fortunate that you didn’t have to wait for much longer, hearing several cars come down the driveway.

No one greeted you when you opened the door, faces pinched and sullen, and you knew then that things didn’t go as expected. The only one to acknowledge you was your father, the older man pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before trudging inside with the rest. You swallowed, conflicted on whether or not you should say anything, but your worry got the best of you.

“How did it go?”

Before your father could answer, you heard your brother slam his hand into the wall, the pictures shaking from the force.

“Peaky fucking Blinders,” he spat, and your blood ran cold.

Your eyes met your father’s, and he gave you a look as if to say leave it alone, but you were in shock. You had never imagined that your family would start doing business with the likes of them. Everyone had heard of them, knew who they were and what they did, and the thought of your family being involved with them in any way was a terrifying one.

Everything those men touched turned to poison

“Father,” you had chided as soon as you walked into his office moments later.

From behind his desk, he held a hand up, the other pressed to his forehead as he sighed.

“Not now, Y/N,” he said, sounding tired.

“You promised that things would be different,” you whispered, ignoring his words. “You told me that we would start becoming legitimate, legal. That we’d start doing things right.”

“Y/N-.”

“You promised.”

He slammed his hand down onto the wood, making you wince.

“They’ve got their hand in every cookie jar that matters. Thomas Shelby is a political man, now-.”

You cut him off with a scoff, folding your arms over your chest.

“Only a fool would get mixed up with the likes of them.”

He shot you a scathing look, and you swallowed, looking away with a sigh.

“We need their influence, their resources...their allyship.”

Your eyes widened at this, realizing that your father intended for much more than a one time business deal.

“You can’t be serious,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond right away, simply heaving a sigh before turning his attention to the paperwork before him.

“I will do my best to keep you away from all this, but prepare yourself for seeing a lot more of them, eh?”

He didn’t say anything more, and when it became apparent that that was the end of the discussion, you turned and left. You could hear your brothers and uncles murmuring in the kitchen, going over the day’s events, no doubt, and you made your way upstairs. You never knew exactly what it was that your father sold, but you figured that drugs and alcohol was the gist of it. He’d been in the business for a long time, and he’d made a promise to you that he was going to put a stop to it. That he’d start making money the right way.

Getting mixed up with the Shelbys, the Peaky Blinders, was not the way to go about it.

You understood the appeal though. They had power, resources, influence. With them as an ally, people would think twice about screwing your family over...but was it worth it? Was it worth the increase in violence? Putting the family in the kind of danger you could never even imagine? Was it worth the devastation and death that seemed to follow them like a plague? The answer was simple.

No.

Your father didn’t seem to care about any of that though. Day in and day out, for weeks, you watched your family leave early in the day and return late in the evening, looking more irritated than they did the previous day. It was safe to say that negotiations with the Peaky Blinders was not going as expected. The frustration and annoyance was plain as day on your father’s features, and even though nary a word was uttered to you about anything, you could feel the tension mounting in the air.

The first time you actually met someone of the infamous family, it was a Wednesday. It was a rare day within the past few weeks in which your father was at the house. He had been holed up in his study all day when there was a knock on the door. You had blinked in confusion, trying to recall if your father had mentioned anything about company, but you had only just begun to move when you heard your father’s heavy footsteps traveling down the hallway.

“Stay back.”

Normally you would have argued against him, especially with a tone as harsh as his had been, but something in his voice made you listen. There was something in his eyes, something in the way he walked that made you understand the severity of the situation. You remained in the living room, listening as your father answered the door, unfamiliar voices eventually joining his.

Two men who you’d never seen before joined him in the hallway, standing between the kitchen and living room. You had slowly put your book down, story long forgotten at the sight of the strangers, and your movement caught their attention. Both of them were wearing hats and long coats, but you could still tell that their hair was dark. The lankier of the two was a bit taller, a mustache adorning his face while the other moved a toothpick around between his lips, a faint smirk crawling onto his face at the sight of you.

“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” the taller one greeted, and you quietly returned the greeting.

Your father cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable.

“Arthur, John...this is my daughter, Y/N. She likes to look after the house when I’m gone.”

It was the truth. After your mother’s death, the house was where you felt most comfortable, and you were more than happy to lock yourself in its walls. Especially while the rest of your family ventured out.

“Darling, this is John and Arthur Shelby. I’ve been doing some business with them, remember?”

You fought the urge to sneer at your father, keeping your gaze on the strangers in your home instead.

“Of course. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said with a tense smile.

Knowing you so well, your father could recognize the displeasure on your face, and if the other men before you noticed it too, they didn’t speak on it. You watched as they followed your father upstairs to his study, the younger of the two tipping his hat to you before departing. You remained there for a time before slowly exhaling, turning to make your way outside. You paid no mind to how long they stayed, spending the rest of your day away outside in your garden. Your mother always kept one, and you had done the same since she died.

That was the first of the few times you ran across Arthur and John Shelby. They were the only two that ever came by the house, greeting you with tipped hats and secretive smiles. You had grown somewhat used to their presence and faces, but not enough to be completely comfortable around them. You didn’t meet the rest of them, didn’t meet him, until weeks later.

“What?” you had breathed, staring at your father in disbelief. 

You watched as he rubbed his forehead, face pinched and eyes clouded over, telling you that he disliked this as much as you did.

“You’ll come to the next meeting with us,” he repeated, and you let out a sharp breath.

So you had heard him correctly.

“...why?” you eventually asked, sounding much calmer than you actually were.

“I know you hate them, but those Shelbys do have some morals about them. Things have been rather tense lately. It seems that we just can’t come to an agreement,” he sighed out, leaning against his desk. “...and I fear that things could become...rowdy.”

He didn’t continue, but you were smart enough to guess where this was going. When the realization hit you, your heart dropped, and you stared at your father like he was a stranger. The man you knew, the man your mother had married, would’ve wanted you as far away from any business dealings as possible. Somehow, the very same man was standing before you and suggesting…

“You think my presence at the meeting will make them behave...make them think twice about doing anything...violent,” you murmured, more to yourself than him.

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to, and you clenched your jaw.

“...and if it doesn’t-?”

“It will,” he argued.

“...but if it doesn’t…” you repeated with more force. “...then what? What will you do if they bring out the guns and razor blades right there? What will you do if they decide to use me to make you agree to their terms?”

Your father was silent, and you stepped towards him, eyes pleading.

“What will you do then?”

You watched as he straightened, standing to his full height as he looked down his nose at you. It was like you were looking at a completely different person, someone who wasn’t like your father at all. As you eyed him, you could see the stress on his face, the strain in his muscles, the conflict in his eyes. You’d had your suspicions that your family’s business with the Peaky Blinders was more serious than you could’ve imagined, but the toll it was clearly taking on your father confirmed it.

Even if you didn’t agree with what was going on, how your father went about getting what he so clearly needed and wanted, it was obvious that this was important to him. Since the death of your mother, very few things brought your father happiness. Very few things even halfway satisfied him, and hoping that this would, shoulders sagging with defeat, you agreed.

This was how you found yourself seated beside your father at none other than The Garrison. The pub was empty of any patrons or staff, only those important to the meeting present. Thomas Shelby, the man himself, was seated across from your father. He was as intimidating as you always believed he’d be, smooth voice having done nothing to calm you when he introduced himself.

John and Arthur, the two you were familiar with, were on his right while two more men by the name of Isaiah and Finn were on his left. They were one short in comparison to your father, his two brothers, your two brothers, and yourself, but an empty chair told you that one more was on their way. Seeing that the meeting had already begun, you deduced that their tardiness wasn’t a concern. Considering the nature of the meeting, a whole bunch of words that could be summed up into “who controls what”, you envied the mystery person’s absence. 

For minutes now, you had contributed nothing, but then again… That wasn’t your purpose. No, the purpose of your presence was to keep the men in line. Your entire purpose was to play on what few morals the men had, and you fought to hold in a laugh. With every member of your family being armed, you wondered if your father even believed this would work. Too busy stewing over how your father had purposely put you in harm’s way, you didn’t take notice of the pub door opening.

You were only pulled from your thoughts when the sound of footsteps finally registered. Considering that your back was to the door, you couldn’t see their face, and you didn’t want to appear nosey or unprofessional or draw attention to yourself in any way really by turning to look. You only glanced up when he finally came into your line of sight, and you observed him in the same manner that you did all the others.

Something about him reminded you of Thomas, but his features were much softer, not so harsh. However, that made him no less intimidating. He wasn’t sporting a hat, dark hair neatly pushed away from his face, and something about him was different from the rest. On his own, he didn’t look like he belonged with the rest of them, and as Thomas explained that he was their chief accountant, you got the feeling that that was purposely done. He introduced the man as Michael Gray, his cousin, and losing interest once again, you looked away.

You played with your fingers beneath the table, wanting to desperately be anywhere but here. You had a feeling that you’d get your wish very soon, taking note of the change in tone in your father’s voice. He sounded happier, relieved, and you glanced up at him, his relief contagious. As you did so, your eyes briefly connected with that of the newcomer, Michael, and you quickly looked away. Even still, you could feel the weight of his stare, and you reluctantly returned it.

He didn’t look the least bit ashamed at having been caught, bringing his cigarette up to his lips, a thick coil of smoke escaping them moments later. His face was hard to read, and you felt yourself frowning slightly. You blinked, eyes trailing to your brother on your father’s other side, but he seemed invested in the meeting. Everyone seemed to be...everyone but you and the man named Michael.

When your eyes met his again, it was just in time to watch him lean over, lips at his cousin’s ear as he whispered something to him. His gaze held yours the entire time. You glanced around again, feeling as if there was a meeting within a meeting going on, and you were the only one to notice. Brushing off the unease you felt, you sat back in your chair, eyes on the table. It was hard to ignore the heavy gaze that pinned you to your seat, but you fought to manage.

Especially since it seemed that an agreement was finally being made.

However, that sinking feeling in your chest traveled to your gut, settling there as you watched John move to whisper something to Thomas. The man, the leader of this great gang, paused for the briefest of moments. It happened so quickly, and John was back in his seat as if nothing had happened, and while Thomas’ words did not falter, the way his eyes briefly flickered to you had you straightening in your seat.

Your eyes fell onto the blue-eyed newcomer again, and he took another drag of his cigarette. Every single one of them wore smug expressions, from the first moment you’d been introduced to every individual man, you noticed that they all looked as if they owned the world. Michael Gray was no different, but the way he looked at you made you want to be as far away from here as possible. As more tendrils of smoke left his pink lips, you noted that he didn’t look at you like he just owned the world. He looked at you like he owned you too.

“Everything does seem to be in order, but...there is another matter I think we should discuss,” you heard Thomas Shelby say.

You looked to him, watching as he stood, his family following his lead and your family following theirs. You tightened your coat around you as Thomas gestured for your father to follow him into the back. His absence made you nervous, but you simply stepped closer to your brother as you watched him follow the other man.

“Let’s wait outside,” your brother said, and eager to be out of here, you hastily agreed.

Your other brother remained inside with your uncles while you followed Matthew, the middle child of you three, outside. 

“You alright?” he asked you as soon as you were in the fresh air. “You looked a bit tense in there.”

You watched him light a smoke, and you glanced away.

“The other one...the cousin, Michael… How much do you know about him?”

Matthew shrugged, exhaling.

“Not much. Doesn’t say much at the meetings, mostly handles the money,” he told you.

That did little to ease you.

“Why…?”

You were just about to tell him the reason for your curiosity when the door to The Garrison came flying open. You watched in shock as your father came storming out, your other brother and uncles hot on his tail.

“What’s going on?” Matthew asked, just as alarmed as you were.

Instead of an answer, your father simply grabbed your arm, and yanked you along. You almost tripped over your feet, and you looked at your father like he’d lost his mind. His face was clouded over, eyes thunderous, and you wondered what had happened in such a short time.

“What-?”

“Quiet,” he hissed, sounding the angriest you’d ever heard him, and your eyes widened at this.

“...but-.”

“I said quiet! Get in the car,” he spat.

He didn’t give you a chance to listen, opting for shoving you inside himself. Your foot was barely inside when he slammed the door shut, and you stared at the window in shock. Matthew joined you and your father in the car while the rest piled into the other vehicle. Your confusion only grew as the car roared to life, and you glanced up then to rest your eyes on a familiar face.

He leaned against the door to the pub, a fresh cigarette held between his lips as he lit it. His blue eyes were focused entirely on you, even as the smoke clouded his view and your father began to drive off, he didn’t appear to be interested in anything else but your trembling frame.

You sat at the dining table in shock, listening to the muffled sound of your father’s angry voice that traveled from his study. He was in there with the rest of the family, and he’d been in there for hours. He had barely looked at you when you all came home, heading straight for his office as he ordered the rest of the family inside. There was an unspoken agreement that that did not include you.

Still, the uneasiness from the meeting remained. You could still feel the heated gaze of the blue-eyed man, smell the smoke that drifted from his lips, see the way he watched you as he whispered to John. You could see the way Thomas had looked at you as John whispered to him, and this was what made you press your ear to your father’s study door hours earlier. This was what drove your curiosity to discover just what happened when you and your brother left.

“He wants her,” your father had forced out, sounding like he was going to be sick.

There was a long pause, and you had frowned in confusion.

“Who?” your other brother, Nathaniel, had eventually asked.

“The Gray kid! Polly’s son,” he spat as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “He wants her.”

You could hear your father’s heavy breaths, hear him pacing, and the confirmation that the discussion was about Michael Gray did nothing to quell your confusion. The silence that followed was loud and heavy, something unspoken in the air that you had yet to understand.

“...what?” you heard one of your uncles murmur.

Your father heaved a sigh, sounding much calmer now.

“They are...prepared to meet us more than halfway if we let him have her,” he slowly said. “Everything we’ve been working towards, everything we’ve been yearning for… It could be ours in a matter of hours if we let him have her.”

“No!”

Nathaniel’s voice could be heard before your father even finished.

“Absolutely not-.”

“Nathaniel…”

“You’re not considering this...are you? Father…”

“They’ve given us the day to think it over-.”

“What is there to think about? She’s our sister, your daughter, not some whore on the street,” Matthew interrupted, his words making you freeze.

Bile threatened to spill from your lips as you stared at the door, slowly backing away, their voices becoming less clear as you did so. Your back was pressed to the wall as the truth settled over you, and you suddenly felt foolish for failing to put it together sooner. Your stomach swirled, fear settling into your bones, and before you knew it, your head was in the commode, expelling everything you’d eaten that day. The tears had come shortly after, and that was how Matthew found you hours later, sitting at the table with tears in your eyes.

“I know you heard,” he said, sitting across from you.

You hesitantly looked up at him as he poured a glass of whiskey.

“You never could keep your nose out of things. Told you years ago to stop listening in on father’s conversations-.”

“Well, I’m glad I did this time,” you tearfully spat.

Matthew sighed, sliding the glass towards you.

“I think you deserve it tonight,” he said as you threw him an odd look.

Your shoulders sagged, and you gratefully accepted it, scrunching your face up at the strong taste that hit your tongue. The both of you sat there in silence for a while, listening to your father’s muffled voice, and you took another sip.

“What’s he going to do?”

Your fear must have been evident because his hand rested on yours on the table.

“Hey...he’s not going to agree, alright? He would never…”

You shook your head before he even finished, sniffling as you took another sip.

“I don’t know, Matthew. I don’t know,” you breathed.

Your eyes met his, and he frowned at you.

“These past few months or so… He’s been different, and you know it. He’s made deals before, but it’s different this time. Everything he’s ever wanted is so close. It’s different this time, and you know it, Matthew.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. You both knew that it was different this time, and you shuddered to think about what tomorrow would bring.

The next day came and went, much to your relief, and although you were glad that your father didn’t give into the Peaky Blinders, into what they wanted from you...what he wanted from you, it was still an unacknowledged elephant in the room. They still left the house for business, but you didn’t know if it was with the Blinders or not. You shuddered to think of how that conversation went when your father refused their offer. 

You got the feeling that they weren’t used to not getting their way.

It was three nights later, three nights since that fateful meeting in which you’d caught the eye of Michael Gray, that you left your room to get a glass of water. The house was dark and quiet, an unusual sight seeing as at least one brother was usually up late in the kitchen, drinking or having a smoke. That wasn’t the sight that greeted you.

The kitchen was empty of anyone else, and you drank your water slowly. You hoped that things would be better now. You recalled how relieved your father had looked over the past few days, how much softer his features looked, and you desperately hoped that it was because the family was finally on the right track. You made your way back into the hall, glass pressed to your lips, when you paused.

The only light in the living room came from the moon, it’s rays bleeding through the windows and onto the furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to take note of the shape that didn’t belong. The shape of a man. Light flooded the room, and all of your breath left you, glass shattering at your feet.

You stared at him in shock, taking in everything from his neat hair to his shiny dark shoes. He was dressed much like he was the first day you met him, a dark grey almost black looking suit hugging his frame. He leaned back in your father’s chair, nursing a glass of Brandy, and it was then that you realized he’d been here for a while.

“Father!”

It was instinctual now, how your father was the first person you ran to. He didn’t respond, and you called for him again, cutting yourself off when a smirk slowly danced along Michael’s lips. Your mind whirled, and dread filled you.

“What are you doing in my house? Where is my father?”

A small chuckle escaped him, eyes twinkling with mirth as he slowly pulled out a cigarette. 

“What do you think I’m doing here, love?”

Your entire body froze, the implication behind his words clear, and you shook your head. You called for Matthew...then Nathaniel...then your uncles and your father again. The only thing that met you was silence, and your throat felt incredibly thick all of a sudden. The weight of your predicament fully settled over you, and you slowly shook your head.

“No,” you breathed in disbelief. “...no.”

The man before you didn’t respond, simply pressing the cigarette between his lips, reaching in his pockets for a light, no doubt.

“I don’t believe you.”

That was what you said, what your lips formed, but your heart and your head didn’t agree. Something didn’t feel right from the moment you woke up, and a part of you that you desperately wished would shut up did believe him. 

“Do you really think your father would allow anyone into his home without his knowledge or permission?”

You watched him pull a drag, smoke filling the air, and you stumbled back, running for the door. You didn’t hear him behind you, and for that you were relieved, but your relief was short lived. Upon swinging the door open, you were met with the sight of John and Arthur Shelby dawdling in your driveway. They appeared to be having a conversation when you opened the door, their voices abruptly cutting off at your appearance. John simply smirked at you from around the smoke in his mouth, Arthur tipping his hat towards you.

“‘Ello, sweetheart.”

With a shriek, you slammed the door shut in their faces, chest heaving with uneven breaths as the situation fully resonated with you. You stumbled back further into the hallway, and Michael was still in the same place as before, nursing a cigarette as you fought to figure out a way out of this.

“You can’t...you can’t do this,” you eventually murmured, glaring at him.

Michael simply fixed you with an even stare, smoke escaping from his nose, the cigarette dancing between his fingers.

“I’m a Peaky Blinder, love. I can do whatever I want.”

He said it with so much conviction that you knew he believed it, and the longer you stared at him, the more you believed it too. You warily glanced around, telling yourself that you might actually have to fight this man, might have to fight to protect what your father had wrongly given away. Even though part of you denied it, you slowly accepted that Michael was telling the truth. Despite the fact that your family’s business and even lives were at stake, your father had no right to trade away what didn’t belong to him.

Michael’s eyes never left you as you stood there, and you finally looked to him again when he cleared his throat. The cigarette rested between his lips as he slipped out of his jacket, and you swallowed at the dark look in his eyes. He took another drag.

“Before you do...whatever it is that you’re about to do…”

He parted his mouth, the smoke swirling in there for a bit before pressing his lips together, tendrils escaping his nose.

“You should know that I’ve shot men in the head with no hesitation. I drug my blade across a man’s throat once and reveled in the taste of his blood on my lips.”

You flinched, taking a step back.

“When Tommy first tried to scare me away, threaten to send me back to the village in which I grew up… I told him about a well there, that I’d blow it up with dynamite if he made me go back...didn’t care if my hands went with it.”

He finished his cigarette, putting the rest of it out, eyes boring into yours as he slowly exhaled the smoke he’d been holding in.

“I just knew it’d be worth it to see those pretty white bricks all over that pretty village green...and I meant every word of that.”

You didn’t respond, and his blue eyes slowly dragged over every part of you, taking you in from your hair all the way to your bare feet, lingering on the thin nightgown in between.

“It’s something about the violence, you see.”

His words unnerved you, and he continued.

“The violence, the blood...the fight...it does something to me. Gets me excited, all riled up, so please…”

He gestured towards you, eyes glinting with something that made your heart stop.

“Do fight back, hit me even… It’ll just make me want to fuck you that much harder.”

The tears finally skipped down your cheeks, and you stumbled back as he stood to his full height. With a shaky breath, you staggered up the stairs, running to the last room at the end of the hall, a guest room. You were quick to pull the window up, looking down below in worry. It was high up, that was for sure, but the alternative was worse.

Before you could even get a foot out, warm hands pressed into your stomach, pulling you back against a broad chest. A startled scream left your lips, and Michael’s hands traveled to your arms, fingers pressed into your skin as he held you tight. You leaned your head away from him as he pressed his face into your neck, breathing you in.

“Your father made a big mistake bringing you around us, eh?”

You couldn’t will your lips to move, too paralyzed with fear and nerves and anxiety for the unknown. The way he touched you was foreign, the scent that clung to him, a mix of cologne and expensive liquor and cigarettes, was foreign. The creeping sensation that blanketed your body was foreign. All of this was foreign, and more tears pooled within your eyes as the inevitable drew closer.

“He thought you’d keep us in line, keep us on leashes...but ever since I saw you, the only thing I wanted to do was take you like a fucking animal.”

You jerked in his hold, fighting to get away from him, but Michael tsk’d. 

“Let’s not spoil this, hmm? You seem like a good girl...if you catch my drift.”

More tears fell at his words, and he hummed.

“You do. You strike me as a well behaved lady of the house...and you girls like for this to be special, yeah? All gentle and loving,” he slowly mocked as he forced you towards the bed.

He shoved you onto it, knees pressing down on either side of you soon after, preventing you from going anywhere. Your tears soaked the sheet, and Michael’s fingers ghosted over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“I want you to look at me as I fuck you.”

He gently turned you over onto your back, and you stared up at the man before you. Even in the darkness, you could see the blue of his eyes perfectly. They were bright and filled with a hunger that scared you, a hunger you had never been on the receiving end of before. Michael leaned over you, caging you beneath him as he pressed his forehead to yours, soon followed by his lips.

You’d kissed men before, but they were soft sweet nothings that could barely be called a kiss. You knew that if you wanted to marry well, contribute something of substance to your family, you had to be smart about your actions...your reputation. All of the men, realizing that you weren’t going to give them what they wanted, left. Accepting that your family and reputation came first, they always left, and it hurt every single time. 

But it will be worth it.

That’s what you constantly told yourself. After every heartbreak, every sneer, every harsh insult thrown your way about what a frigid bitch you were, you told yourself that it would be worth it. And yet...here you were...beneath a gangster, having your reputation ripped away from you by a man who stole and murdered and wasn’t decent in any way.

Life was funny.

After slipping out of his shirt, the flimsy material floating somewhere behind him, Michael guided your hands to his chest. Your trembling fingers danced along his taut skin, taking note of an imperfection. An old bullet wound, you deduced. The dark-haired man groaned into your mouth, pressing into you, and you could feel him hard beneath his trousers. The reality of what was about to happen seemed to slink around your neck like a noose, and you didn’t even realize that you’d started panting until Michael’s hand found your neck.

“I-I can’t- I can’t do this-.”

He shushed you, kissing you again.

“Behave...and I’ll be good to you. Breathe,” he urged.

You slowly did as he suggested, squeezing your eyes shut as his other hand pushed the smooth material of your nightgown up your legs. One hand was still on your throat as that same hand traveled to his pants, the sound of his zipper deafening in the quiet room. Your whole body went numb for a moment, ears ringing and vision blurring, and when you finally came back to earth, Michael’s hips were pressing against yours, nothing in between you.

He was speaking to you, you noted.

“...what?” you murmured.

“What’s your name, love?”

You swallowed, quickly darting your tongue out to swipe over your lips.

“Y/N.”

He repeated it, clearly liking the taste of it on his tongue. He nodded at you, drinking you in as he ran his eyes over your face, seemingly committing you to memory before sliding into you with one quick thrust. Your nails pressed into his skin, and he hissed, your own lips parting to let out a pained gasp. Michael held himself above you, a low groan escaping him as his forehead touched yours again.

“You feel fucking amazing,” he whispered, nose bumping against yours.

He held himself there for a long time, just feeling you. You weren’t naïve enough to think he did it for your sake, and you got the feeling that he wanted to drag this out for as long as possible. When he did finally move, your chest arched upwards, unable to handle the unfamiliar feeling. His hand was still on your neck, and you wrapped your hand around his wrist.

The feel of him inside of you was strange. You couldn’t describe it, but you felt full...you felt stretched...and in a way, it felt unnatural, but the heat that festered deep within your stomach said otherwise. One of Michael’s hands was pressed into the bed beside your head, holding himself up so that he could look at you. You remembered his words, and too terrified to disobey, you fought to keep your eyes on him.

His face was strained with concentration, eyes flickering between your face and down to where the two of you connected. The hand that was on your neck slid down to your chest, thumb brushing over a heaving breast before resting on your stomach, pinning you down as he snapped his hips into yours. It was too much for you, too much at once, and your lashes fluttered. 

“Look at me,” he roughly breathed.

“I can’t...I can’t,” you panted, head twisting from side to side.

You could hardly focus on anything other than the way he was thrusting into you, taking you to heights you never knew existed. He called your name then, and you reluctantly met his eyes, the hunger in them making you shudder.

“That’s right. Eyes on me, love. Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you,” he murmured.

The smugness in his voice and face made you frown, a spark of anger in you.

“Do you fuck all of your girls like this? Huh?”

He didn’t respond, pink lips simply curving upwards into a humorous smirk.

“...or am I special because you get to ruin my life and go on with yours?” you shakily spat.

Michael slammed into you then, forcing a choked gasp from you.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. You just focus on milking my cock, hmm?”

You wanted to hit him, spit at him, do anything other than lay there and take his unrelenting thrusts, but your body seized before you could do any of that. Your toes curled and your stomach clenched and your body shook as stars exploded behind your eyes. You hadn’t even realized what a moaning mess you had become until Michael paused just to listen to you, just taking you in with something akin to awe on his face.

You didn't have time to catch your breath before he was chasing his own high, hands pressed into your waist so hard you were sure you’d bruise. Your nails dug into his wrists, choked moans tumbling from your mouth as you clenched around him again, just in time for him to spill into you, releasing a long breath as he did so. You clung to him, tears catching in your lashes as you laid there, mind whirling at what you’d just done.

You flinched, shrinking in on yourself when his lips brushed the corner of your mouth just before pulling out of you. You winced at the action, staring up at the ceiling as you heard him moving about. You turned your head when you heard the strike of a match and watched as he lit himself another cigarette, pants just barely settling on his waist.

“So what happens now?” you finally asked, voice low in the dark room. 

Would your father and brothers come through that door tomorrow, pretending that they hadn’t sold you out? Would they be able to even look at you? Stomach the sight of you? Fresh tears kissed your eyes just as Michael spoke.

“Well…”

He took a pull, exhaling the smoke through his nose as he neared you.

“...I’m going to fuck you at least three more times before the night is over.”

You sat up at this, paying no mind to the pain in between your legs as you stared at him with wide eyes. Without realizing it, you gripped the end of your nightgown, pulling it to your knees as if somehow trying to prevent that very thing from happening.

“What-?”

“...and then I want you to pack a bag. Just some things that’ll last you a few days. I’ll be buying you a whole new lot of clothes anyway.”

“Michael-.”

“You’re my girl, now,” he quietly said, voice firm as he stood over you, free hand playing with the strap of your gown as the other held his cigarette to his lips.

You shook your head, staring up at him in disbelief.

“I...no. My family...they-.”

“Sold you away without a second thought.”

Your heart clenched as he threw that in your face, and you turned away as he reached for you. His fingers pinched your chin, jerking you to face him, and you swallowed. He bent down, staring into your eyes.

“You won’t have to worry about that with us...with me.”

He took one more pull of his cigarette before placing it on the nightstand, tendrils of smoke escaping his nose and mouth just before he pressed his lips to yours, fingers pressing into your skin as he settled between your legs.

~

tags: @cocoamoonmalfoy @trinittyy @ziamslarry-blog @a531a​ @s-u-t​ @sunshinechim-98​ @callmechannel​ @lil-hungryy​ @oneoftheprettynerds​ @scissorkidscult​  @madamerubrum  

#peaky blinders #michael gray #michael gray x reader #michael gray x you #michael shelby #thomas shelby #john shelby #arthur shelby #finn shelby #isaiah jesus #dark fic #dark michael gray #polly gray #michael gray smut #michael gray imagine #yandere

[5-seconds-of-bucky]

Kisses

A/N: Okay, so let’s pretend that Bucky didn’t blip 😉 That is the job I am trusting you with as you read this, dear reader (especially during a certain part, but you’ll get there when you get there) Also, please ignore my lack of original concepts, as I am well aware that I used this similar concept for a Shawn fic a while back (I promise this version is quite different and much better written) Anyways, happy reading! :)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem Avenger!Reader

Summary: Different types of kisses throughout you and Bucky’s relationship

Word Count: 4.3k+  (oof, much longer than I intended. Sorry, friends!)

Warnings: Swearing, reader gets stabbed, mentions of blood, mentions of pregnancy, (brief) mention of death (nobody actually dies)

---

The First Kiss

It was quiet as the two of you walked down the hallway, save for the occasional sounds of Bucky’s boots scuffing on the linoleum. Whether it was because you didn’t want to wake up anyone else in the compound this late at night or because there was nothing left to say, you weren’t sure.

After months of longing looks and nervous conversations (and a bit of pushing from Steve), Bucky finally found the courage to ask you out on a date. He made it a whole ordeal, even bringing flowers when he asked if you wanted to grab some sandwiches from a nearby deli and eat them at the park. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t been waiting to hear those words for a while now and told him you’d be happy to. Your shy smile made Bucky’s insides melt and he found himself mirroring one back at you.

Now, your third date--a midnight hike through a trail you suggested--was coming to an end.

“Can I walk you back to your room?” Bucky broke the silence, chewing his lip nervously as he awaited your answer.

“Your room is right across the hall from mine. Aren’t you going that way anyways?” you giggled.

“Let me be a gentleman,” he insisted as you rounded the corner of the hallway that led to your rooms.

“I mean, how can I say no to that?”

“I don’t think you can.” His signature smirk and charm had you melting and you stared at the floor in hopes that he wouldn’t see the obvious ways he affected you.

The two of you arrived at your door almost too soon, and you found yourself wishing that your night together wasn’t over quite yet.

“I had a great time with you, Bucky.” You turned to fully face him, looking up shyly into his eyes.

He took one of your hands with his, bringing it up to his lips. “I did too, Y/N. We should do it again.”

“The date or getting eaten alive by mosquitoes?”

“The mosquitos were endearing but I was more so thinking of another date.”

“I’d like that.” You squeezed his hand before letting go, pushing your door open and taking a step forwards before Bucky’s hand grabbed your wrist. He gently spun you back towards him, his charm suddenly replaced by a more timid look.

“Um, can I . . . would you let me . . .” he glanced down to your lips. “Can I kiss you?”

You didn’t respond, simply placing your free hand on his cheek and leaning towards him. His hands both went to wrap around your waist as your lips brushed and your other hand came to rest on his chest. The kiss was slow and soft. There was no need to rush as you stood there in the hallway at 1:45 in the morning, wrapped around each other like you couldn’t let go.

You finally broke away, feeling Bucky’s chest steadily rise beneath your palm as you calmed your own breathing. You tried to play it cool on the outside, though you were screaming with glee internally.

“Goodnight, Bucky.” You slowly slipped out of his grasp, a twinkle in your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

The Welcome Home Kiss

Your eyelids seemed to droop more by the second as you tried to keep yourself awake. The caffeine you had earlier could only do so much to curb the sleepiness that was settling in your bones. The fact that you were sitting in your bed at the moment probably wasn’t helping, but you were too tired to move.

Waiting up for Bucky seemed like a good idea until it was 2:30 in the morning and he still wasn’t back. He would probably scold you when he got back, saying how sleep deprivation didn’t look good on you, but you didn’t care. You hadn’t seen your boyfriend in a week and you missed him. If you had to pull an all-nighter to do so, so be it.

The sound of footsteps outside your door pulled you from your thoughts. It only took a second to recognize the familiar clunking of Bucky’s combat boots, causing you to perk up as you waited for him to peek into your room.

The footsteps paused outside your door for a moment and you held your breath in anticipation. The door didn’t open though, and the footsteps became fainter, presumably walking away from your room.

Does he think I’m asleep? You frowned. Usually, he at least opened the door to check in on you.

You pulled the blanket off your body, getting out of bed and padding out of your room towards Bucky’s. You did your best to stay quiet as you twisted the door knob in case he was already asleep. It wasn’t uncommon for him to pass out as soon as his head met the pillow after a mission. Lord knows he needed the rest.

You were met with an empty room when you peeked your head in. You almost left, assuming that your excited mind had been playing tricks on you, when you caught sight of light peeking out from beneath the bathroom door. A smile crept its way onto your face and you closed the door behind you, sitting on the edge of his bed and waiting for him to come out.

A few more minutes passed and you debated just letting yourself fall asleep there when the bathroom door swung open. Bucky stepped out, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that you had tried to steal on multiple occasions. He didn’t notice you until he was almost to his bed and lifted his gaze from the floor, jumping back with a “shit!” when he saw you.

“What are you doing up, doll?” he asked once he regained his composure.

“Waiting for you,” you replied simply, pulling him into a hug as soon as he sat down next to you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

You pulled back just enough to press your lips against his, relishing the languid movements of his lips against yours at the absurd hour of the morning. His arms traveled down to your hips as yours moved to wrap around his neck.

“Welcome home, sergeant.”

The Fevered Forehead Kiss

You were burning up.

The sweat drenched shirt you were wearing was sticking to your body and the fact that Bucky, AKA: the walking furnace, was laying next to you, wasn’t helping in the slightest. His arm was slung over your back, which made your situation that much worse. He seemed to be sleeping peacefully: a rarity with him. Moving out of bed was sure to wake him up but you really needed to change your shirt.

You sighed, deciding that you needed to get into some dryer clothes if you had any hopes of falling back asleep before the sun rose. Prying yourself from Bucky’s grip as carefully as possible, you swung your feet over the edge of the bed and stood up. A wave of dizziness overcame you, forcing you to brace yourself against the wall. A quiet groan escaped your lips when the dizziness started getting worse rather than fading away. Your vision started to tunnel: a surefire sign that you were going to pass out.

A pair of arms wrapped around you and Bucky’s face came into view. He gently eased you back onto the bed, supporting your back as he layed you back down. You felt a hand brush over your cheek as the dizziness faded and your senses returned.

Bucky frowned at how warm your cheek felt beneath his touch. You were feeling a little warm when he carried you to bed after a group game night--of which you had fallen asleep halfway through--but he didn’t think much of it then. He smoothed some hair back from your forehead and rested his lips there to better judge your temperature.

“Shit, doll. You’re burning up,” he murmured.

“It’s really hot in here.” Sleep was clawing at you but you were uncomfortable beyond belief. “I need to change my shirt.”

Bucky silently helped you out of the shirt you were wearing, throwing it in the hamper before shuffling over to the dresser to get you another one. He grabbed the first one he saw, making his way back over to where you were laying and helping you into it.

“Get some sleep, sweetheart,” he said as he pressed his lips to your forehead once more. “I’ll be right here.”

The “Shut Up!” Kiss

The Quinjet was filled with chatter as the team headed back to the compound after a successful mission. You managed to get the intel you needed and nobody got hurt in the process--well, nobody except you, but no one needed to know that.

You managed to get yourself stabbed in the right bicep when you were making your way back to the jet. It wasn’t horribly severe, it just hurt like a bitch. You were quick to take care of the Hydra agent and keep moving, knowing the team was going to want to get back to the compound as quickly as possible to celebrate. Missions without some kind of injury were a rarity with you guys.

You just assumed that you’d wait until you got to the compound and stitch yourself up there without anyone knowing. Seemed easy enough of a plan, right?

“Hey, doll,” Bucky said as he sat down in the seat to your left with a kiss to your cheek.

“Hey, babe.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, snuggling into the warmth radiating off of him.

“I’m so ready to get in bed.”

“You said it.”

You were able to block out the pain coming from your arm for a moment, allowing yourself to relax in your boyfriend’s presence instead. That was, until Bucky’s arm came up to wrap around your shoulders. You winced when his hand brushed over your wound, cursing internally when you felt him stiffen up next to you. Of course he was going to find out.  

He pulled his hand back, seeing it covered in red. “Is that blood?”

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now. You know what does matter? Getting to bed cause you look-” You sat up, rubbing your hand over the wound yourself, finding that there was significantly more blood there now than there was earlier.

“You are literally bleeding right now!” He raised his voice slightly and you glared at him, not wanting to draw attention to the situation.

“I know but-”

“I love you but if you shut the fuck up right now, Y/N-”

“Buck-”

Bucky grabbed your face, quickly bringing your lips to his. “You are going to stop talking and let me take care of this, okay? No ifs, ands, or buts. I don’t wanna hear ‘em.” His voice was stern but you could see the concern in his eyes.

“Okay,” you sighed, dropping your eyes to your lap.

“Now let me see your arm so we can fix you up.”

The Top of the Head Kiss

“You don’t think it’s too soon, do you?” Bucky asked Steve as they sat in the kitchen. It was early on a Thursday morning, when everyone else was either asleep or doing an early morning workout. The two super soldiers had already finished their daily morning run and decided to enjoy a cup of coffee in the kitchen before the rest of the team showed up.

“Buck, I thought you were going to propose after the fifth date. You’ve been together for almost two years. I think it’s about time,” Steve answered with a chuckle, enjoying the bashful look on his best friend’s face.

“I just wanna do it right, you know?” Bucky bit the inside of his cheek as he contemplated the right way to propose for what was probably the thousandth time. “I know she doesn’t want something that’s so romantic it’s cheesy but I want it to be special.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Steve patted Bucky’s arm as he got up to put his mug in the sink. “You know she’s going to say ‘yes’ no matter what.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just scary trying to-”

“Morning boys.” Your groggy voice rang through the kitchen, causing Steve and Bucky to immediately shut up.

“You’re up early, sweetheart,” Bucky commented as you made your way over to him.

“Thought I’d be productive today.” You ran a hand through his hair, still unruly from his run, before placing your lips on top of his head. “Whatcha’ guys talking about?”

Steve and Bucky shared a panicked look. “Uhh . . . super secret boy band stuff.” Bucky’s hands made their way to your hips, fingers messing with the hem of your shirt.

“Ohh, okay. Let me just grab my breakfast and then I’ll let you plan your little boyband stuff.” You ruffled Bucky’s hair and busied yourself with making a bagel, winking at him before leaving the kitchen.

“You better hurry up,” Steve chuckled. “Cause she’s gonna figure out what you’re doing soon if you don’t.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bucky grumbled. “I’m working on it.”

The Passionate Kiss

“I’m so hungry!” you complained as you took your suit off, having just returned from a mission. You weren’t able to eat lunch earlier and your stomach was making sure you knew just how much it did not appreciate that.

“We stocked up the fridge yesterday so you should be good to go,” Bucky said from his place on the edge of the bed. His eyes stayed glued on you as you slipped on a pair of shorts and one of his Henleys.

You smiled brightly at his words and made your way over to him, giving a quick peck to his temple and grabbing his hand. “Care to join me?”

“Course, doll.” He stood up and followed you out of your shared room, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side as you walked to the kitchen. Everything was going according to plan.

The mission you just came back from? It was fake. You didn’t know that of course, but Bucky had Steve and Tony help him set it up so he could get ready for what he was planning on doing tonight without you either finding out or getting overly suspicious. What was he planning on doing, exactly? Proposing. He was finally going to propose tonight.

You and Steve were sent out on an undercover “mission” in which you had to pretend to be a couple in order to attend a ball and gather intel on a possible new Hydra branch. Bucky wasn’t quite sure how Tony managed to set the whole thing up, but he decided not to bother himself with the logistics. There were more important issues at hand.

He patted his pocket as you parted from his side to grab plates. Yup, the ring was still there.

“Why don’t I get the plates and you grab what you want from the fridge, sweetheart?” he suggested.

“Oh no, I got the plates. You grab whatever you think is good. I’ll eat whatever.” You took two plates out of the cabinet and made your way to the table, your back to the fridge.

This is going to be harder than he anticipated.

In his debate to decide the perfect way to propose to you, Bucky somehow came to the conclusion that the best way to ask you to be his future wife was by spelling out “Will you marry me?” on the refrigerator with a bunch of magnets. A picture of the two of you from when you first started dating was placed next to it with a heart magnet, and Bucky was pretty proud of himself for the idea. He forgot, of course, that you could be a little oblivious sometimes when it came to noticing things.

No need to stress about it. She’ll notice eventually.

Bucky grabbed some things from the fridge, microwaving a few before bringing them over to the table and sitting down in the seat next to yours. “Bon appetit!”

“¡Muchas gracias, señor!” You smiled, already dumping a few things onto your plate and digging in.

“That was a completely different language,” he chuckled.

“And?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Tell me ‘bout the mission.”

“It was alright,” you said through a mouthful of food. You swallowed before continuing. “I don’t know why they sent Steve with me instead of you. You’d think that since we had to pretend to be a married couple, they’d have me go with my boyfriend.” Damn, Tony really didn’t try to be that subtle, did he?

“Yeah, strange . . .”

“Anyways, it was pretty easy. I didn’t even have to go to a debriefing!” You put some more food on your plate, noticing that Bucky had barely touched his. “You okay? You’ve hardly eaten.” You motioned towards his plate.

“Hmm? Oh, I ate before you got home so I’m not that hungry.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. He ate, just not a lot to be considered a meal. Nerves.

“Uh huh.” You gave him a weird look as you took a bite of food. “You’re up to something.”

“Me? Up to something? Never.” He watched you finish your food and sit back with a satisfied groan.

“Okay, sure.” You gave him a playful glare as he took your plates and got up to put them in the sink. You grabbed the leftover food and containers, and put them in the sink, nudging Bucky’s hip with yours.

“You trying to start something, doll?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Maybe I am.” You looked back at him, completely missing the colorful magnets on the fridge yet again as you opened it and put the food back inside. Your hand caught the ‘W’ when you tried to take your hand off of the refrigerator handle, causing it to fall off and clink on the ground.

“Ill you marry me?” you read off the fridge, a confused laugh escaping your mouth. “What?”

Bucky playfully shook his head. He walked over to you, picking up the fallen magnet and putting it back in its place. He leaned against the fridge as he watched you read the phrase again.

“Buck, are you being serious?” Your eyes lit up, though there was a hint of hesitance in your voice.

“I don’t know, you tell me.” He pulled the black velvet case out of his pocket, getting down to one knee.

Your hand slapped over your mouth, trying to contain the squeal of joy threatening to jump out. “Bucky!”

He flipped the lid open. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?”

You bit your lips together, nodding your head vigorously. “Yeah. I think I’ll marry you, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky stood up and you grabbed his face, crashing your lips onto his. It was messy but perfect for the moment. Your heart was beating a million times a minute but you paid it no mind as you tried to pull Bucky even closer.

“I love you,” you said once you pulled away for breath. Your eyes watered as you tried to keep tears from falling.

He leaned back in to slot his lips between yours again. “I love you too.”

The Relieved Kiss

Bucky wasn’t sure what exactly to expect when he rushed out with the team to find Captain Marvel lowering down a giant ship in front of the compound, but nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see.

He’d been a mess since Thanos snapped away half the universe. Unbeknownst to him, you were up in space when the battle happened, leaving him to assume that you had dusted away with the millions of others and left him behind to pick himself up.

While Bucky suffered in his own personal hell down on Earth, you were stranded in a broken spaceship with Tony and Nebula. Up until your rescue, you were sure that you were going to die up there, staring into the void of space. You recorded a message for Bucky after Tony recorded his for Pepper in hopes that it would someday make it back to him. Then Captain Marvel came to save you and bring you back to Earth; to bring you back home.

Bucky ran up with Steve to help Tony, supporting the man who looked like he’d been to hell and back a few times. He stepped aside once Pepper ran up, choking on his own breath when he looked back to the steps of the ship.

You held onto Nebula’s arm as you slowly stumbled down the stairs. Bucky let out a sob at the sight of you, immediately rushing up to help you. You felt so fragile in his arms and it took everything in him to not collapse to the ground in shock, not sure if it was relief that you were alive or horror at your condition

He held you to his chest as tightly as he could once you made it to solid ground, his vibranium arm holding you up by your waist while his flesh hand held your head to his chest.

“Oh my god,” was all he could say as he stood there, body shaking as he cried

“Hey, I’m okay.” Your hand shook as it came up to weakly pat his shoulder. He could tell you were completely out of it: eyes distant and mind barely there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone approaching, ready to help get you to med bay.

He pressed his lips to the crown of your head, gently rocking you back and forth in his arms. “You’re alive.”

You tried to pull back in his grip, forcing him to loosen it slightly. “I love you.” You leaned up to kiss his lips, though it ended up being more of a brush of your lips than an actual kiss.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He kissed your hairline, scared that kissing your lips would steal more oxygen away--something you desperately needed more of in your system right now. “You’re gonna be okay.”

The “Holy Shit!” Kiss

You weren’t sure how much longer you could keep it a secret. You were sure he would’ve figured it out by now: the sticks in the trash, the sudden avoidance of certain foods you would usually never pass up, the second heartbeat that now accompanied your own.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want him to know--you had actually been trying for a baby for a while now--you just weren’t sure how to tell him. Is this how he felt before proposing?

The opening of your bedroom door interrupted your thoughts. You were met with the sight of your husband shrugging off his jacket when you turned around. He cut his hair recently. Something about it being “too hot for this shit.”

“Why are you wearing a jacket? It’s June,” you giggled.

“The air conditioning is fucking blasting and I got cold while I was doing my paper work, if you must know,” he said, laying the jacket on the chair you were standing next to. He left a quick kiss on your lips, leaving you craving for more.

“You’re crazy.”

“I’m crazy? I think you have the wrong guy here, doll.”

“No, I don’t think I do.” Your hand caught his, tangling your fingers together. Should I just tell him now?

“You keep thinking that. Steve asked me to help train some agents here in a few minutes so I gotta go now.” Another quick kiss and a wink and he started making his way out the door.

“Wait, Buck!” He turned around, almost out the door. “I need to tell you something real quick.” You motioned for him to come back over.

He took a few steps forward, a confused look on his face as you grabbed both his hands in yours. He could hear your heart rate picking up, which only served to worry him.

“So, I was wondering if you would be free to go to the hospital about eight months from now?” You gave a small smile, hoping he’d catch on quickly. “I’m not sure what the exact date is going to be quite yet but I’d really appreciate it if you could be there.”

Bucky frowned. What business did you have at the hospital that you scheduled nine months ahead of time? “Babe, what are you talking about?”

“I think we’re going to need to find our own place too. We’ll need a lot more space.” He still wasn’t catching on. “I doubt having three people in here would be super pleasant.”

He frowned even more and you simply giggled, bringing his hands to your stomach. “I’m pregnant, Buck.”

“Ohh!” He let out a sigh of relief, glad that that was all you were worried about. “Had me worried for a second there, doll.”

It was your turn to frown. “What?”

“From the way you started, I was worried you were dying and this was some sadistic way of telling me.”

“Nope. Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Was wondering when you were going to tell me.” His thumbs rubbed circles into your belly.

“You knew?!”

“I heard the heartbeat weeks ago. Took me a while to figure out what it was but I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”  

“Damn your supersoldier hearing.” You leaned your head on top of his shoulder, letting out a small groan.

“Holy shit though,” His voice was soft as he rested his chin on your head. “we’re having a baby!”

“Yeah,” You lifted your head up slowly to see the biggest grin on your husband’s face. “we’re having a baby.”

A hand came up to cup your cheeks as he leaned into your lips, kissing you deeply and trying not to cry. “Holy shit!”

---

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated!! :)

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@lo-manburg @nialls-flute @spnmarvelsimp

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes x Avenger!reader #Bucky Barnes one shots #Bucky Barnes fic #Bucky Barnes fanfic #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes blubrs #Bucky Barnes x fem reader #Bucky Barnes x fem avenger!reader #Bucky Barnes x YN #Bucky Barnes x you #Y/N #Reader insert #Bucky Barnes fluff #Bucky Barnes angst #Boyfriend!Bucky #Husband!Bucky #Dad to be!Bucky

[ethvn-torchio]

Bucky x reader, except the reader is also a supersoldier who went through the same thing, so she 1000% understands. They both wake up from a nightmare and comfort each other, and end up having very passionate sex.

oH mY gOd iZzY!??!??!! good lord that is 𝓈𝒽𝓇𝑒𝓍𝓎.

Anyway babe, here's a bucky x fem!reader fic for ya. also omfg i love bucky barnes sm 🥺 hnngh mr barnes can rail me any day

Warnings: smut (duh), p in v sex ;) a little angst kinda? top!Bucky, bottom!reader (kinda?) unprotected sex

Word count: 1,398

You and Bucky were no strangers to nightmares; over the years, both of you were frequently plagued by them. They never became any easier to manage.

You live in the now, but there is one thing that will always and forever be a part of your past.

The Super Soldier serum.

The Soldier is part of who you are - who you both are. It's a part of Bucky, a part of you.

It wasn't an easy decision to make; to take that acceptance of what the past had set you on, and face forward.

Bucky shouts, bringing you out of your light, fitful sleep with a jolt. You throw yourself up and away from the bed with one quick motion.

It takes a moment for your vision to clear, and your breathing to steady. By the time your heart slows back down to normal, you're aware of Bucky was sitting up, leaning back with his hands braced on either side of his hips, breathing harshly, and panting as sweat dripped down his face and onto his chest, fingertips glistening with moisture.

Your pulse hadn't even calmed down enough for you to register what caused it to speed up in the first place when you exhale sharply, seeing Bucky crouched in the middle of the bed, face contorted in the middle of a scream. You can't see his eyes behind the glare the moonlight throws at you, but you get the feeling he's looking right at you.

He's looking at you.

"Bucky," you say, softer than you intend to, eyeing him as you finish sliding up onto your feet in the floor. "Hey. It's okay, Bucky. Breathe," you offer, holding your hands out open and out to your sides, to show you mean him no harm.

Bucky doesn't register your words and doesn't stop staring at you. His eyes are wide, his fists clenched.

"It's only me, Bucky," you breathe. It's then you notice how tense his body is; the tic of the muscle in his jaw, the tension in his arms, the way his shoulders hunch. He looks like he's ready for a fight, ready to grab his weapon of choice and take aim for the kill.

"Bucky, look at me," you request, the words coming out as soothing as you think you can get them. "Breathe with me. Come on. It's just me. You're safe," you reassure, still maintaining a safe distance.

It takes a couple of seconds, but you can see the way his shoulders visibly relax when he finally looks up at you, breathing deeply and still shaking. The sight of him in the state he was in made your heart ache.

You nod, ready to approach.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and you can hear him swallow audibly. "I…" he falters, pausing, and then he pauses again, exhaling harshly. "I'm sorry." he repeats.

"Do you...want to talk about it?" you ask tentatively, though you doubted he would. Neither of you liked to talk about your nightmares.

"No," he replies, almost immediately, though you can see him glance back at you briefly before his eyes avert back to their spot between his knees. "No, I don't. I don't want to…I don't want to think about it anymore."

"Okay," you agree, "Okay," you repeat again, slowly. "I don't expect you to." you add with a smile, though you doubt he can see it. You sit beside him on the bed.

You let the silence fill the space between you, letting him collect himself. 

Finally, he says, “I don’t want to go back to sleep.” 

You shift, tucking a loose hair behind your ear. “Well, what can I do to help?”

Dark, lustful eyes follow your silhouette. "I don't want to think anymore... just let me..." He whispers, the tone of his voice desperate. 

You wordlessly nod, allowing him to pull you into a kiss. There’s nothing quite romantic about the way he kisses you, insatiable and impassioned. The kiss feels longer than it actually is. 

Finally, you break apart, staring at each other for a moment longer before his eyes glance down to where your lips are still slightly parted, watching him. 

Without another word, his cold metal hand slides up your nightshirt, leaving trails of goosebumps in it's wake. He helps you out of your shirt, leaving you in only your sports bra.

His brow furrows. He growls, and you can hear the telltale sound of tearing fabric - and then you’re bare for him, nipples hardening in the cool air. 

You never liked that bra, anyway.

He mutters your name in appreciation, teeth grazing your neck. His hands trail along your body, like he was making sure you were real. 

You wish you could see his brilliant blue eyes, if only to reassure him more. 

He tugs impatiently at the waistband of your shorts, pressing his forehead to yours. You card your fingers in his hair, and before you know it, your shorts are uncaringly tossed to the floor. 

He pauses at the waistband of your underwear. You can feel his hot breath against your neck, his fingers hooked at the waistband.

"Bucky," you plea softly.

That's seemingly all the motivation he needs, and your underwear is added to the ever-growing pile of clothes on the floor.

He doesn't hesitate to touch your clit, rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves.

You mewl, spreading your legs for him, anything to get more attention on your clit.

However, he abandons your clit in favor of something else.

You can feel the cold metal of his fingers In your searing heat, and you squirm. “Bucky, oh, God-” you mutter, biting your lip. 

He shushes you, pressing a kiss to your lips. You quickly get used to the icy coolness of his fingers, it adds another layer to your pleasure. He buries his two fingers to the knuckle, pumping and curling his fingers just right, making you a wet, wanton mess. 

He hits your G-spot, and you throw your head back, moaning aloud. He hits that spot a few more times before he removes his fingers, making you whine at the loss.

“Suck.” is his simple demand, fingers coated in your slick.

You oblige, sucking his fingers, the faint taste of metal mixed with your own juices.

He groans, and then his fingers - wet with your own spit - go back down to your clit, rubbing it with fast, light strokes.

You moan, clenching around nothing, aching for him.

Eventually, he stops, and you can feel the head of his cock brush against your entrance. He pauses, pressing his forehead to yours. "-needed this so much, Doll. God, I-" he trails off.

You press a kiss to his cheek. "I'm here, Bucky."

He exhales shakily, and suddenly, he buries himself inside of you to the hilt.

The noise that he releases is primal.

You moan at the feeling of being full, and the delicious stretch that comes along with it.

He stays like that for a brief moment, letting you adjust to him before he rolls his hips.

He thrusts sharply, experimentally, before he finds his rhythm, setting a frantic pace, fucking you like he'd never see you again.

He peppers kisses everywhere he can, kissing your lips, your cheeks, your neck, your shoulders - as you writhe underneath him, incoherently begging for more. He grips your hips, holding them tightly, muttering slurred praises in your ear.

It was something carnal, something wild and desperate, and it was so fucking good.

His skillfull fingers find your clit once again, and the combination of the attention on your clit and the way he hits your G-spot makes you cry out his name, you orgasm steadily approaching.

You clench around his cock and he groans in appreciation, kissing and nipping at your neck.

There was surely going to be a hickey on your neck and bruises on your thighs when you woke up tommorow, at the rate he was going.

His hips begin to stutter, his breath gets shaky. "'M gonna-" he warns,

You were about to respond when he pinches your clit, and your orgasm hits you suddenly, quickly. You yell his name, milking his cock.

He groans into your hair, whispering your name as he gives a few short, choppy thrusts before he orgasms.

You both sleep nightmare free the rest of the night.

-------

Taglist:

@rizwritesfandom @motherfuckingstargirl10 @haydens-moles

yo sorry this was vv not good ngl 💁🏻‍♀️ but like I'm really tired yall I'm sorry 🗿✌️ hope y'all enjoyed<3 also the ending was trash

Edit; wtf deadass I forgot the part where the reader was supposed to have a nightmare too????? Literally ignore me sldjfhskek

#bucky barnes #jo's writing #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x fem reader #smut #izzy! #asks #smut fanfiction #fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Blue

Rating: M

Pairing: Jamie Oleksiak/Reader

Words: 4222

Warnings: Non-descript sexual content

Summary: Jamie is a thoughtful gift giver. You decide to one-up him.

Huge thanks to @antoineroussel for setting up this Winter Fic Exchange! This is my submission for @bqstqnbruin - I hope you enjoy!

Jamie has a bit of a… habit.

It took you longer than it should have to notice, probably, but you got there eventually, okay? You’ve been dating Jamie for just over three years, and knew him for two before that. Getting an internship with the Stars during your senior year of college was a dream, and even moreso when some of the players had decided you were worth befriending. One of those players, of course, had been Jamie. There’s a lot to being an equipment assistant, and you’d done well enough during your internship that the team had hired you the second you graduated.

Your relationship with Jamie had begun quickly, becoming fast friends. Within six months, the two of you were closer than “just friends” warranted. You’d been too afraid to address it, convinced that once it was mentioned, it would disappear. So you just enjoyed what you had, despite knowing that you wanted desperately to give a romantic relationship a shot.

After that, it all slowed way down, almost coming to a halt. Stopping at unusually close best friends would have been fine with you, you think, because being Jamie’s friend was the best thing that had ever happened to you. It continued that way for the next year and a half, as you continued to watch Jamie open up to you more and more. You learned everything about him: his childhood, his hockey journey, his family and friends, his insecurities and proudest achievements and anxieties and favorite things. How he managed to burn himself almost every time he cooked. What types of books he liked to read. The way his chest rumbled gently under your head when he fell asleep watching a movie together.

You hadn’t really intended to tell him how you felt; it just sort of spilled out one night. After the loss in the Stanley Cup finals, all Jamie had wanted to do was mope around your apartment. Well, “mope” sounds mean. Losing to the stupid Bolts and their stupid rule-breaking roster was devastating in a way you knew that you’d never fully understand. Being traded around like a game of hot potato was hard on him, and getting to the finals felt like he was finally proving himself to the league. He wasn’t disposable. But he wasn’t a Stanley Cup champion, either.

So “mope” wasn’t the best word– he was heartbroken. And maybe that’s why it had all come out of you one night, seeing him so tired and defeated and still loving him as fiercely as when he was winning. The words had terrified you once they were out of your mouth, a full flood of all your feelings toward him, all of your pride and belief and love. It was all over now, you’d thought.

But he had hugged you tight and whispered his own feelings in your ear before asking to kiss you. You’d said yes, of course, and that became the first kiss of many.

While there were times over the next two years that had resulted in stress-fueled disagreements, your relationship was almost entirely positive, loving, and supportive. The first major issue arose with the Seattle expansion. Jamie knew that he wouldn’t be on the protected list, and he had a decision to make. Seattle wanted him, and he could either be drafted kicking and screaming, or become one of the faces of the franchise.

Your entire life was in Dallas. Your friends, your job, your home. It was the inevitability of the draft that broke you. Either you stayed in Dallas and try out long-distance with Jamie, or you uproot everything you’d built to follow him thousands of miles away. It had been weeks of deliberation for you, both before and after he’d agreed to join the Kraken. But one night, laying in bed with him curled around you, you’d realized that even if your home was Dallas, your heart was with him. Following your heart had gotten you this far, so why not a little farther?

You’d applied for a job with the Kraken the next day.

Now you’d been in Seattle for over a year, and knew that it was the best decision you could’ve made. Seattle wasn’t as bad as you’d feared, and it was nice being right on the water. Though you’d applied to be an equipment assistant, the team had offered you the assistant equipment manager position. Apparently they’d heard about your good work with the Stars, and decided to give you a chance at a higher position.

Anyway.

Jamie’s habit is an unspoken thing, so maybe it isn’t so bad that it had taken you five years to notice. It’s sporadic too, only surfacing every couple of months. He knows that you don’t want him spending ridiculous amounts of money on you, so he only gets you small gifts here and there. It’s a small way to show that he cares about you, along with spending as much time with you as possible. You’d say the quality time is more his love language than the gift giving, but you appreciate both.

The gifts aren’t the habit, though. It’s a certain characteristic of the gifts that you hadn’t noticed before. Jamie got you all sorts of things, always with a sweet “it made me think of you”. A figurine here, a stuffed animal there, enough trinkets and knickknacks that you’d bought a shelving unit specifically for them.

It’s only when he brings you a little black and blue kraken plushie he’d found that it hits you. You wander around the apartment to check, seeing the theme over and over: blue. Blue blankets, blue statuettes, blue kitchen wares, blue clothes. Blue is your favorite color. You love how calm it is, all the different shades it can be, how it reminds you of the ocean and the sky and your birthstone. He’s spent years quietly filling your life with blue, just because you’d mentioned your affinity for it in an off-handed comment back when you were just friends.

The thoughtfulness knocks the wind out of you, forcing you to sit on the edge of the bed to catch your breath. Even on the days when the clouds cover the sky– which is most days in Seattle— you’re surrounded by a sea of blue. Because something as simple as the most popular color in the world makes Jamie think of you. He must see you everywhere, then. In a million objects, in the eyes of teammates and friends, even in his own jerseys.

You have to do something. If he’s going to be sentimental and considerate, you’ve got to reciprocate in some way. You spend the rest of the day wracking your brain for a way to show him that you see and appreciate the things he does for you, that you pay attention to him the way that he does you. You’ve gotten him things over the course of both your friendship and relationship, which knocks out a lot of what you could get him.

You could make him a blanket? No, you’d crocheted him one for Christmas last year. A figurine of some sort? Nah, you both had enough baubles around the apartment. Maybe you could do one of those boudoir photoshoots you’ve seen on tiktok? You’re not sure you have the confidence to pull that off. Besides, you weren’t really interested in being naked in front of anyone but Jamie.

He leaves for the final road trip of the season in the morning, and you lay in bed that night trying to come up with something you can do when he gets back. You don’t go with the team for every away game, since there are things that need to be prepared for future games at home. You’ve surprised him with coming home to you wearing his jersey and nothing else more than once, so that wouldn’t be anything special. Special dinners are regular occurrences for his birthday and your anniversary, so that’s off the table. You don’t want to give him something in his own favorite color, because he’s already monopolized that kind of gift.

Used to early flights, the two of you had packed your bags the previous night. All you have to do is roll out of bed and throw on some plane clothes. The drive to the airport is quiet, Jamie always too sleepy to talk this early in the morning. The music playing softly is enough for you, giving you a bit of zen as you drive through the mostly empty streets.

Preparing the plane is the same as always, and you could get everything done with your eyes closed. You have to get there earlier than the team, but you drag Jamie along so that you don’t take two cars to the same place. He just sleeps in the car until boarding, anyway. You have to help make sure that everything is packed and accounted for, so no one is missing any equipment. With all the different flights you’ve taken, you’ve gotten to know most of the regular airport crew. You chat with Rebecca as you go through your extensive checklist, catching up with the goings-on of her life.

Once everything is checked off, the crew starts loading the plane. You supervise to ensure that they’re appropriately careful with the equipment. One time, a new guy had been throwing the luggage onto the conveyor belt haphazardly, and you’d had to scold him. For the most part, they all knew how to treat the equipment. Besides, after his dressing-down, that guy had become one of the best about handling the team’s things. His name is Robert, and he’s actually a pretty decent guy. Has two dogs that he’ll show pictures of to anyone who will look.

Rebecca is part of the flight crew, one of the stewards, so she has to go through all of their checks and preparations while you watch over things outside. The team starts arriving once everything is prepared, and you watch them trudge across the tarmac, all clearly tired. Between the early morning and the final days of the season wearing on them, you can understand their exhaustion.

After calling Jamie to make sure he’s awake and on his way in, you board the plane yourself. The guys all give you acknowledging nods or hushed “hey”s as they pass by. You say hello to every one of them, giving some fist bumps or back pats. Rebecca is stationed in the back of the plane, so you head back there once there’s a lull in the influx of players.

Your conversation from before continues as if it had never stopped, the both of you chuckling quietly about the stories you tell each other of players and passengers. Eventually, Rebecca quiets, looking around furtively before pulling you into the small alcove next to the bathroom. You’re immediately on edge, wondering what could warrant this type of secrecy.

“I haven’t told the crew yet, but–” she pulls something out of her pocket and slides it onto her left ring finger.

It takes everything in you to not squeal at the top of your lungs, but you manage to keep it to a whispered “oh my god!” before pulling her into a crushing hug. You know she’s been waiting for this for a while, and you couldn’t be happier for her. Since you’ve spent time with her outside of these flights, you’ve met her partner– her fiancé!

You congratulate her profusely, joking that it’s about time they proposed. The most recent conversation that you’d had with her partner had made you certain that they were going to propose, and you’re glad they finally got up the nerve. The celebration is cut short when someone approaches, both of you trying to act casual and most likely failing. Judging by Jamie’s expression, your acting could use some work.

“Congratulations,” he says softly, after an awkward silence. He’s smiling brightly, and opens his arms for Rebecca to step into. After giving her a tight squeeze, they separate, and Rebecca straightens her uniform to make sure that all the hugging hasn’t made any wrinkles.

“So, I’ve gotten my ring,” she says, a sly smile on her face, “When are you going to give Y/N hers?” Heat immediately rises in your cheeks, and you swat Rebecca’s shoulder. It’s not that you’re not hoping for it, but you don’t want to say it out loud.

“Some day,” Jamie says with a smile, dropping a kiss on your head. Then he walks to his seat like that’s not a bomb he’s just dropped on you. The certainty he’d said it with, the simplicity and nonchalance of the statement– like it was some inevitability! Oh, this is definitely going to be a conversation when you get home.

The flight proceeds as it usually does, Jamie propping his phone up so the two of you can watch a show together, one headphone a piece. With how little sleep you’d gotten last night, you fall asleep quickly. You don’t wake until the announcement to prepare for landing startles you out of slumber. When your head shoots up, it flings Jamie, who had fallen asleep on top of you. You both laugh, and it feels normal again.

You supervise the unloading of the cargo as it’s transferred to the bus. Jamie gets in to save you a seat, and you think again of your dilemma and Rebecca’s ring. The ride to the hotel is uneventful, the guys awake enough by now to joke and smile. At the hotel, Jamie takes your bags up to the room while you go to the rink to get everything set up. He’ll be coming over with the team, but you have to work the whole day to make sure there are no hiccups. While he naps, you unpack and double-check and sharpen and arrange.

And think.

A lot.

You know what you’re going to do before you even decide on it. Any weighing of pros and cons in your head is performative, because you know your mind is already made up. You just hope it doesn’t blow up in your face.

The game goes alright, Jamie playing well even though they lose in overtime. You’ve gotten used to the smell of sweaty pads, organizing them as the team showers and dresses. You always separate the ones that don’t get cleaned first, knowing that the superstitious ones will notice immediately if their pads don’t have their usual stench. The others get cleaned and sanitized, which means you don’t get to the hotel until close to midnight. The next flight is at 8am, which isn’t too bad in the grand scheme of things.

Jamie is already under the covers by time you get there, reading by the lamplight. You immediately strip down, stepping into the shower the moment the water is hot enough. After showering and brushing your teeth, you throw your dirty clothes into a plastic bag so they don’t stink up your whole suitcase. You crawl into bed with Jamie, give him a kiss, and pass out.

Another flight, another game, another flight, an off-day that you mostly spend sleeping, another game, yet another flight, yet another game. Finally, it’s time to go home. They’d won as much as they’d lost this time, so you consider it a successful roadtrip. Jamie has one day of rest before he has to do a media day, so you spend it sleeping and snuggling and having sex. It’s pretty great, in your opinion.

Normally, you would take the half day you have after preparing for the next game to just chill and plan your trip to Toronto for the off-season. This time, you’re on a mission. You have an image in your mind, and you’re going to make it a reality.

The store has an understated vibe, somehow using minimal decoration to convey a sort of opulence. That’s how you know it’s probably going to be the right place. And expensive. Definitely expensive.

The jeweler is kind, and only tries to upsell you for a short while before realizing that you’re set on your idea. He takes notes on what you’re looking for, showing you a few similar things to make sure he knows exactly what to make. You leave feeling accomplished, and your wallet feeling lighter. Worth it.

The week you have to wait to pick it up seems to drag on forever, and you’re nearly vibrating when you return to the store. The jeweler remembers you, disappearing into the back right away to return with a small box. You open the box to inspect your creation. It’s perfect.

There are only two games left in the season, since the Kraken aren’t going to the playoffs this year. The trip to Toronto is planned and ready, and your surprise is finally set in stone. Jamie is just happy that they win both final games, and happier to get home and see his family. Once everything needed to wrap up the season is finished, you board the final plane you’ll be taking for a while. Luckily, you’re able to work from home during the summer, having a sewing station both in Seattle and Toronto. Work isn’t the important thing right now, though.

The first three days in Toronto are spent with Jamie’s family, catching up and playing games and recapping the year. You love staying in his old bedroom, the way it feels so cozy. It’s probably more about the feeling of home than anything physical, but you enjoy it either way.

By time you get to the house you rent during the summer, it’s been opened and aired out. The first day there is spent unpacking and getting settled, both of you collapsing into bed that night. This place is home too, you realized a while ago. Anywhere Jamie is, is home to you.

The tenth day in Toronto is when your plan is set in motion. You expect to feel anxious, shaky and overwhelmed. Instead, you feel a sense of calm. Serenity. Whatever happens tonight, you know everything will work out. It will all be okay, because you love Jamie and he loves you. No matter what.

The two of you cook breakfast together, singing along to music and taking breaks to dance around the kitchen. You watch Jamie’s favorite movie as you eat lunch, still laughing at the jokes as if you haven’t seen it a million times. The customary post-lunch nap is preceded by you going down on him. You take your time, savoring the hand in your hair and the sounds he makes when he gets desperate.

Before you leave for the night, you have to shower and get dressed. You don’t shower together, because you know from experience that you can’t keep your hands off of each other when you do, and you don’t feel like slipping and breaking something. If you get a little more dressed up than usual, he doesn’t comment on it. Well, other than telling you that you look great and kissing you soundly enough that you have to redo your lipstick.

Once you get to his parents’ house, Jamie gets swept off to talk to his dad, while you join his mom and Penny in the kitchen. His dad is doing a great job of distracting him, and you rehash the plans with your co-conspirators. Maybe it’s how meticulous you have to be for your job, but you have a checklist in your mind of everything that needs to be done.

The meal is Jamie’s favorite, which is just labor-intensive enough to be a treat. You’re sure he thinks it’s because his family is just happy to see him, and that’s the perfect cover. It gives you time to both prepare and chat with his family, something you always enjoy. Penny talks about training and competitions and qualifiers, and you’re still amazed by how humble she is despite being Canada’s most decorated Olympian.

That being said, she’s also a little sister, which means she can’t help but tease you. Not to mention lovingly bullying her brother. You hadn’t known that falling in love with Jamie meant you’d fall in love with his family too. It’s the best thing that’s happened to you.

Dinner is fun, which is something you hadn’t known was possible with family until you’d met the Oleksiaks. The love had been overwhelming when you’d first experienced it, but now you know how to both accept it and reciprocate it. Penny steals one of Jamie’s potatoes and they get into a fork battle over it, Jamie elbowing her when she finally manages to shove it into her mouth. You laugh helplessly, smacking Jamie’s shoulder when he turns to poach one of your potatoes in retaliation.

After dinner, you always stick around to help clean up and have a dessert-and-discussion. Jamie washes the dishes and you dry, Penny wiping down the stove and countertops so their mother can rest after cooking so much. Once everything is clean and put away, you join mom and dad in the living room. The talk is light, no matter what the conversation is about. Jamie talks about the season, you share some stories from behind the scenes, dad divulges the latest gossip from his book club, mom shows pictures of the animals she volunteers with. Penny spends most of the time giving you sly looks instead of talking, and eventually you can’t help but stick your tongue out at her. She returns the gesture and you both laugh. She always brings out the child in you.

Finally, there’s a lull in the conversation, and  you take the opportunity to stand, pulling Jamie along with you to go outside and look at the stars. It’s something you do often, so it’s not suspicious that no one questions it.

You lay on the porch out back, Jamie next to you, hands entwined. He points to random stars and prompts you to tell him the constellations and the stories behind them. He must know them by now, with how many times you’ve done this, but he always asks anyway.

After you tell the story of Cassiopeia, and subsequently Andromeda, you turn your head toward Jamie. He’s already looking at you, eyes so soft and openly loving that your breath catches. Now or never.

Removing your hand from his, you lean up on your forearm to stare down at him. He reaches a hand up to cradle your face. It’s second nature to turn your head and kiss his palm.

“You know I love you, right?” you ask, a smile on your face.

“Of course,” he replies, leaning up to press a quick kiss to your lips, “I love you too.” You want to stay in this moment forever, his hand warm on your cheek, his hair messy from laying down, his body relaxed, completely comfortable with you.

You’re about to either make it way better or way worse.

You have to reach down to lift your dress enough to get into the pocket of your compression shorts. The dress was a strategic choice, both cute and perfect for hiding a small box. Once you’ve got it in your hand, you sling a leg over Jamie’s hips, getting into a better position to use both hands. He props himself up on his elbows, clearly confused.

“Baby,” you begin, and the nerves hit you all at once. You clear your throat, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I don’t want to wait anymore.” When you present the box, you can see his breath stutter in his chest. He whispers your name, flicking his eyes between you and the box. You open it to reveal a plain black band, almost invisible in the dark of the night if not for the light coming through the door.

“Yes,” he says, decisively. You can’t help but laugh, and he sits up to kiss the sound out of your mouth. You’re both smiling too much for the kiss to be technically good, but it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had, in your opinion.

“You didn’t even give me a chance to ask!” you say, resting your forehead against his. His grin fills his face with light.

“Then ask,” he says.

“Jamie Oleksiak,” you ask, a huge, cheesy grin on your face, “Will you marry me?” Now it’s his turn to laugh, eyes scrunched up in joy.

“Yes,” he repeats, “Of course, yes.” You can’t help yourself, you kiss him again, and again, and again. With your arms wrapped around each other, with the stars watching over you, you decide nothing has ever been this perfect.

“I heard laughing!” Penny shouts as she flings the door open. It startles you, but you and Jamie quickly devolve into more laughter. You stand and pull him up after you, finally taking the ring out of the box and sliding it onto his finger. Laying a kiss on his hand, you lead him inside while Penny demands to see the ring. Mom and dad crowd around as well, giving you the tightest hugs of your life. This is your family, and Jamie is your soulmate, and now everyone will know.

The shining sapphire embedded inside the ring, though? That’s just for you.

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