#we talked about this a while ago and i could not help myself from trying to write it

[shoshiwrites]

Orange sunsets for Jo & Egan? 💚

Friend, this prompt would not exist without you and your Gale senses, @mercurygray's military vehicle expertise, and @junojelli, because I have never driven stick in my entire life, much less a 1940s jeep. Prompt list here.

Bucky Egan/War correspondent OC, also on Ao3!

Somewhere between writing up her latest story and the blue censor’s slashes that render it half as long, she runs out of typewriter ribbon.

She thought she’d been careful — both in the writing and in the paying close attention to her supplies. Jo — reporter Jo, Your Trusty Correspondent Jo, she figures out her own shit. Doesn’t ask for even so much as a pencil. 

She’d thought it was a good piece, too. 

The things she does have to ask about — meals, jeep rides up to Norwich to report on the bombing runs there, woven through with conversations with the civil defense men, almost all of them veterans of the last war — those are careful things, done in uniform and with something in her voice that approximates flattery. Apologies without apologizing. It’s a relief when a Red Cross girl or two offers to go with her, the way they can talk without minding themselves.

Longhand’ll be fine, for a bit.

It’s warm enough to sit outside, in the grass, in the shadow of a Nissen hut. Overcast, as usual, an early summer day. The air smells like pollen, half like the promise of rain. 

“Hey, I know we’re short a few things up here but I think a chair might not be too big an ask.”

She squints up at him in the brightness from behind the clouds. “Major.”

“Seriously, you need a chair?”

“I’m alright, thank you.” It’s not the mud of spring anymore, at least. “Ground’s nice, on a day like this.”

The look that crosses his face seems to be considering a joke. “Where’s the machine?” He means her typewriter, the Underwood portable. Sitting inside.

She makes a noncommittal wave. 

“I’m sure we could figure you one of those too,” he says, even though they both know full well that hot commodities like typewriters aren’t just growing out in the grass. “Sticky keys? Bad spring? Screw loose? Space bar not doing its job? I mean, I’d still read it, but-”

“Nah, just the ribbon.”

“You need a ribbon?”

God, he’s worse than the boys at the office. She laughs, just a little. “Has anyone ever told you you’d make a great copyboy?”

If he were chewing gum right now, it’d be a lazy clack on his back teeth. “Well, not too different than what they’ve got me doing now, if I’m honest.”

“If you’re honest.”

“Jeep’s right there,” he says, even though it’s not. “I mean-”

She weighs her options. Jeep ride. Typewriter ribbon. Maybe even one for Kay or to squirrel away for later. She wonders about ration books and cigarettes, not that she bothers much with anything besides Luckies these days. Small bars of wartime soap, small, pretty tins of hard candy, boiled sweets, they call them here.

On the other hand. No ride. No ribbon. No sweets. The air’s gotten thicker as she’s been sitting here. It sounds nice — careening through the greenery with the wind on her arms. 

And he’d talk the whole time, she knows he will. 

“What’s your afternoon look like?”

“Wide open.”

She highly suspects it’s not. 

“Just the ribbon,” she says.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She’s glad she’s wearing trousers in the passenger seat, the open vehicle, the way she has to hold on to stay in. He’s used to the thing by now, he says, the way it handles, the good noises, the bad ones, the bite of the clutch. The road to Norwich is a straight line, and long, and he shouts over the wind, “oldest Roman road around! ‘S what I heard, at least.”

“And here we are, driving on it!” 

“Yeah!”

The fields run by, the rows of trees, wagons, the Queen Anne’s lace, cow parsley, clusters of daisies. 

“So, what’re you working on?”

She tells him, out here where it feels like they’re the only ones around, in the middle of the afternoon, even if they’re not. And he knows, of course, exactly what she’s talking about, the major who drinks among locals, the ones who tell stories and the ones who don’t. 

He waits outside while she makes her purchase, and then ducks into another store to buy that tin of candy, slipped into her pocket. A magazine too, a small, short thing printed on rough paper. She ought to get him something, for the favor. A beer or a meal would be the real thing, if this wasn’t just an errand. 

They walk back around the corner to where the jeep is parked, and he makes to toss her the keys. “Spin for the lady?”

She looks at him, unable to hide the confusion on her face. 

Even if they let her have a jeep, she couldn’t drive it.

“Would if I could,” she says. “Though I hate to make you take the wheel all the way back, too.”

“Hey, it’s fine, I like this thing. But seriously, you never-?”

She looks at him, maybe a little too long, trying to figure out who he thinks she is. “City girls don’t get a lot of lessons in motoring.” Like it’s 1922 and she’s got a parasol and a skirt that doesn’t let her move. Steelworkers who drink away good wages don’t usually go for nice cars, either. William’s family had cars, plural. The two of them went for drives sometimes, out to the quieter, greener spots around the city. She always felt like she was going to do something wrong, smudge something that had just been polished or cleaned.

“Why don’t you hop in, I’ll show you.”

She looks at him again. “I’m sure the last thing anyone needs is an accident that puts a major out of commission.” And she’s pretty sure her on a ship home would be a welcome relief for at least as many people as she can count on her hands.

He makes a noise of dismissal, good-humored. Kind of a snort. “You’ll be fine.”

“You can tell that to the MPs.”

“Hey, would I tell you that if I didn’t think it was true?”

No, you wouldn’t.

“If I can park a plane, you can drive a jeep.”

She gets in the driver’s seat.

“So right here’s the steering wheel-”

She’s quick enough to bite it back. You know I got to England all by myself, right?

He sees the look on her face, puts his hand up. “Just covering all the bases, Brandt.”

“Steering wheel, roger.”

“Steering wheel-” he points, “shifter. This thing-” he points to the long handle protruding from the dashboard, “parking brake. Don’t worry about that one yet.”

He reaches an arm over, down to the well where her legs are. “Left is the clutch. That’s important. Right foot’s the brake. Also important. Long pedal’s the gas, you guessed it, important, if you wanna get back to base before chow or there’s someone chasin’ you.”

“Who’s chasing me?”

“I don’t know, somebody.” 

“I’ll think something up.”

“You’re the writer, right? Now, you’re gonna start this baby up.” He hands her the keys, fingertips brushing her palm. "First turn that ignition, press the starter-” she does as she’s told, “and give it a little gas.”

It starts, mercifully, with a noise that he doesn’t wince at. “Now, if you wanna go faster than a farm wagon you’re gonna need to switch to second. But, can’t do that without gettin’ to first first.”

She’s fairly certain every window along the lane has someone looking at them, but she can’t worry about that right now. 

“So, shifter’s in neutral, keep your foot on that brake- and the clutch, yep- just like dancin’-” he sees her face, “ok, maybe harder than dancin’, unless it’s a fast song playin’-” The clasp of her watch digs into her wrist against the wheel. “Doin’ great- now, I shoulda had you look at these before we started so I’ll just tell you- you’re gonna push down good on that clutch pedal, take the shifter, like this-” 

She does, rewarded by an ungodly metallic noise and a corresponding smell. Her stomach wobbles. Nothing about his manner changes, except a handwave to get the smell away from his nose. This must be what’s he’s like up there. She’s surprised there hasn’t been a baseball metaphor yet. “You’re fine, just didn’t press hard enough is all. Need to get you some good boots like mine-”

She tries again, and the whole vehicle seems to take a cue from her stomach. “I hope you didn’t have anywhere you needed to be this afternoon.”

“Nope.” It’s clear she doesn’t quite believe that. A beat passes. “...you let me worry about that. Now-”

She reaches for the shifter again, just as he does the same, the tiniest spark of static. How, in this weather? If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she heard something in his throat. “So I’ll handle this part now, you just focus on the clutch.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell you when.”

She nods, tries to look decisive about it.

“Alright- right- now-”

It bites, just like he said it would. 

“BEAUTIFUL!”

It’s almost a laugh, the breath that escape her.

“Now, we’ll try second.”

She doesn’t get too excited, because it stalls out again. But she gets it going out of neutral, to first. He looks proud.

And second gear- the second time- it works.

“Hey, see, you’ve got this!”

“I think steering might also come in handy.”

“You may be right.”

She’s not very graceful about it, but she doesn’t land them in a ditch as she slowly maneuvers onto the main road. “I think you ought to take us back if you want to get there before dark.”

He looks like he’s thinking about it. “Ah, alright. But this ain’t over.”

“Part two?”

“Third gear. On the strip. When we get back.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Kind of a requirement.”

She gets it back down from second, stops it, hands him the keys. She’s shivering a little, back in the passenger seat, from the nerves, energy. He looks over at her and smiles. “Passed part one.”

“How do I stack up?”

“Well, Buck still has me drivin’ him around so, I’d say you’re the top of the class.”

She laughs, from relief, from the fact that it’s still not raining, from the fact that she’s forgotten the typewriter ribbon in the little box in her pocket, from his smile.

“I expect you to keep this thing running while I’m up there,” he says.

She wants to laugh, but the unspoken if hangs heavy, like clouds pregnant with rain. 

“I don’t think that’s allowed,” she says. 

He glances over at her, East Anglia passing them on both sides once again. “Well, I’ll get you permission.”

It’s not even your jeep, she wants to say. It puckers on her tongue, like the cherry-flavored sweets in her other pocket. None of this belongs to us.

By the time they make it back to Thorpe Abbotts, the sky has miraculously cleared, soft and blue, the other side of the afternoon.

“Now, we can just call this practice,” he says. “For the gear shifts.”

Gamely she gets in the driver’s seat again, bolstered by his confidence.

Another stall, again, this time from first to second, but she handles it. No one’s ever accused me of having a bad memory. Quite the opposite, sometimes. 

The sensation of it runs through her arms, her legs. Something new, something she’d learned, something that might actually serve her, and not just what lipsticks to wear and how to dress for the season. Something he’d shared with her.

“I’m glad we’re not in Pittsburgh,” she says. “All the hills.”

“Hey, you’d handle them too. You’re a pro now. More practice than some of us got.” She’s a little afraid of what this looks like, although it’s not like discipline’s been the letter of the day at Thorpe Abbotts. Hardly something she’d write home about, aside from the swagger, the boldness. It meant something to her, though. Professionalism. William never thinks about any of it, she’s sure. “How about trying that third gear?”

“I hope whatever you’re missing right now isn’t too important.”

“Thought I told you to let me worry about that.”

“After dinner,” she says, unsure if she means it.

The next voice belonging to neither of them, low and a little amused, approaching. “Thought we’d have to send out a search party.”

“Just taking Josephine here for a little spin. Driving lesson.”

She shoots him a look. “An errand. I ran out of ribbon.”

“How was it?” Gale still looks faintly amused. “The lesson.”

“I told her if I can park a plane, she can drive a jeep.”

“Your ability to park a plane is questionable at best.” He smiles, just a little, before his expression is measured again. “John, Huglin wants to see you.” He can’t say what about in front of her, obviously. Jo hopes it isn’t about this. Something about what she knows of the colonel might tell her it’s not. Still, she feels guilty.

He leans over conspiratorially. “Jo, I won’t mind too much if you run him over.”

“Nice thing to say about your best friend,” Gale says.

“You’d be walking everywhere if it weren’t for me. Jeeps, bikes-”

“Sure, sure.”

“I’ll let you bring this back where you got it,” she says. “Better than me taking an hour to do the same.”

“After dinner, though?” Her mouth twitches a little. 

“Come on, you’ll be thankin’ me one day.”

“He likes to say that,” says Gale.

If the sky stays clear, it’ll be beautiful. Clear blue until late, and then pink, orange, lemon yellow. Red streaks like the sweets in her pocket, dusted with powdered sugar.

How many sunsets like that could you hope for?

“Alright,” she says. “Keep the keys ready.”

#mota oc #masters of the air oc #bucky egan x oc #basilone #sry i had to do a little cover #shoshi writes #jo's tag #motaverse #oops this one is a monster #what am i doing? great question #we talked about this a while ago and i could not help myself from trying to write it #despite knowing - truly - nothing

[7ndipity]

Every Little Thing

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: When you overhear Yoongi talking about how clingy you’ve been lately, you decide to take a step back from your friendship to give him space. But your sudden absence goes far from unnoticed by him.

Word Count: 2k(wtf?!)

Warnings: angst, swearing, only partially proofread

A/N: Thanks so much to the lovely anon who requested this! This story, I... I don’t know what happened, I went from struggling to get it to work at all to getting waayy too carried away. I kinda had to stop myself at the end before it shifted into something else, but maybe if y’all want a part two, we can pick up from there?

Masterlist

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As you got off the elevator, you couldn’t help the faint bounce in your step as you made your way to Yoongi’s studio, your bag slung over one shoulder, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks for the two of you to share.

Ever since you and Yoongi(and in turn, the rest of the members) had become friends, The Genius Lab had become a hideaway of sorts for you. Whenever you were feeling stressed or overwhelmed, you knew you could call Yoongi, and he would tell you to come over, letting you camp out on his couch while he worked, occasionally asking for your thoughts or opinions on a specific song or line.

As you neared his studio door, you noticed it was slightly ajar, allowing the voices from inside to slip out into the hall, quickly recognizing them as Yoongi’s and Namjoon’s.

“You wanna come to lunch with me and Hoseok?” Namjoon asked.

“Agh, I can’t, I told Y/n’s we could hang out today.” You heard Yoongi’s chair creak as he stretched, letting out a groan.

“Again? That’s like the third time this week, people are gonna start thinking you’re a couple or something at this rate.” Joon joked, making your cheeks flush lightly.

“Nah, it’s nothing like that,” Yoongi replied, sounding tired. “They’re just being clingier than usual, you know what they’re like.”

You frowned at his words. What did he mean by that?

“I know it’s just cause they’ve been stressed lately,” Yoongi continued. “But honestly, it’s gotten to the point where it’s weirder for them to not be here.”

Joon chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t find that annoying.”

“I didn’t say that I don’t,” Yoongi said. “But it’s Y/n, so I let it slide. Anyway, on that track you showed me-”

You stepped back from the door, the sudden tightness in your chest making it slightly difficult to breathe as you quietly made your back down the hall to the elevators. As the metal doors closed, you replayed what you had overheard in your head.

Yoongi had always told you that he didn’t mind you hanging around, but maybe you had started to abuse that privilege, grown too dependent on him. Was that how he really felt about you? Had you become a nuisance? And if so, why hadn’t he said anything?

Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you quickly found his number and hit the call icon, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat before he picked up on the second ring.

“Hey, are you almost here?” He answered, sounding much brighter than a few minutes ago.

“Uh, actually, I don’t think I can make it today.” You said, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, concerned.

No, one of my best friends hates me. “Yeah, everything’s fine, something just came up, sorry.” You bit your lip, managing to slip out of the building without running into any of the other members and making your way down the street to the bus stop.

“Okay.” He sounded unconvinced. “Is it anything I can help with, or-?”

“No, no it’s-, it’s a work thing.” You said, the words falling flat on your own ears. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Alright.” He said reluctantly. “Bye.”

“Bye.” You hung up, letting out a deep breath.

You could tell he hadn’t believed you, but you didn’t really care at the moment. If he wasn’t going to be honest with you, why should you be any different?

Suddenly presented with the afternoon to yourself, you decided to head to the park, wandering along the river as you thought over everything.

You and Yoongi had come here together not long after you had moved to the city, the last few blooms of the cherry blossom season clinging on stubbornly to their branches. He’d promised to bring you back the next year, so you could see them in their full glory at peak bloom.

Of course, life and work had gotten in the way, as they often did, and before either of you had realized, the season had nearly passed again before he could keep his word. You’d told him at the time that it didn’t matter, you’d just been happy to spend time with him, a recurring theme for you apparently…

Had you been a bother to him back then as well? You didn’t believe so, but the earlier sting of his words had left you questioning everything, even if you knew it might be an over-reaction.

It was dark by the time you made it home, flopping down on the sofa with a tired sigh as you contemplated your options.

So you’d been bugging him lately, that was an easily fixable problem, right? Just leave him alone for a bit, it was as simple as that, wasn’t it?

You weren’t so sure as your phone suddenly buzzed on the cushion next to you, drawing your attention to Yoongi’s name illuminated on the screen. You’d forgotten you said you’d call him.

‘Hadn’t heard from you, just wanted to make sure you’re okay?’ The text read.

Now who’s the clingy one? Was your immediate first thought.

‘I’m fine, just tired. Talk to you tomorrow.’ You typed shortly before turning off your phone and going to bed, with no intention of texting him the next day unless he did so first.

For the next week, you tried to keep up with your new normal; you didn’t go by the studio, you avoided texting him unless he did first, and generally avoided his invites to hangout with vague excuses.

One place you couldn’t avoid him though was dinner with the other members. It was a monthly tradition that you usually looked forward to, but as you stepped through the door of the restaurant, you only felt a wave of nervousness, for what though exactly you didn’t know.

“Y/n!” Tae quickly hopped to his feet to give you a hug, the others all greeting you enthusiastically. You noticed Yoongi didn’t speak, only nodding to you politely, but his eyes never left you for a second, seeming to study your every move.

“Y/n, do you want my seat? I know you usually prefer to sit by Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook asked, starting to get to his feet, but you quickly waved him to sit.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to move for me, I’m fine over here.” You said, settling in the free seat next to Jimin, which happened to be directly across the table from Yoongi.

Everyone quickly settled into their usual routines and conversations, the mix of voices blurring into an almost comforting buzz, allowing you to zone out for a moment and relax, but a single low voice managed to snap you back to attention.

“I haven’t seen you all week.” Yoongi said quietly, a noticeable heaviness in his voice.

“Yeah, things have just been kinda busy.” You tried to say convincingly, but it was hard to pull off under his gaze. Luckily, Jin asked you about something from the show you’d been watching and gave you an easy out of the conversation.

You managed to get through the evening well enough, talking with the others, even making plans with Jimin for him to help you pick out some new furniture for your apartment. You’d felt Yoongi’s eyes on you all evening, but hadn’t said anything.

It was later that night when you were pulled from sleep by the sound of someone knocking persistently on your front door.

Cautiously, you climbed out of bed and padded to the door.

Who’s there?” You called anxiously, trying to remember where you’d put your old baseball bat, in case you needed to defend yourself.

“It’s Yoongi.”

You froze, staring at the door in surprise for a second before going over and peering out the peephole.

Sure enough, he was standing on your doorstep, causing a brief sense of relief that was quickly replaced with confusion and the same nervousness from earlier.

Not quite knowing what else to do, you cracked the door open slowly, taking in his slightly disheveled state; hair mussed and faint bags under his eyes. He looked the same way as when he would pull all-nighters at the studio.

“What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Why’ve you been avoiding me?” He responded with his own question, staring you down.

“I-, I haven’t-”

“Don’t lie.” He stopped you.

Glancing around quickly, you pulled him inside, not wanting to have this discussion in the hall.

“You’ve been dodging my texts and calls, you wouldn’t sit with me at dinner, you asked Jimin for help with furniture shopping, which you know he’s terrible at.” He continued as you closed the door. “So, tell me please, what has happened to make you start ditching me?”

“Why didn’t you tell me that I was annoying you?” You snapped.

He stopped, staring at you in confusion. “What?”

“I heard you and Joon talking last week,” You said, his face falling as the memory came flooding back. “About how clingy I’ve been, and how I’ve been annoying you by hanging around so much.”

“You haven’t been-”

“Don’t.” It was your turn to cut him off. “Don’t try to tell me that it’s not true or you didn’t mean it. What I want to know is why you weren’t just honest with me?” You hated the way your voice started to shake as you spoke. “Why didn’t you just tell me to fuck off or something? Why do you put up with me if I'm such an annoyance?!”

“Because I fucking love you!” He blurted out.

You froze, staring at him in shock. “What?!”

“I-, I love you.” He said quietly.

“You love me?” You repeated, hurt and frustration still churning in your stomach, not letting you take his words to heart. “You love me, but you think I’m annoying?”

“I think everyone’s annoying!” He tossed his hands up in frustration. “The difference is that I like your annoyance!

“I like that you’re loud and weird and make terrible jokes, I like that you nag me to take better care of myself.” He said. “I like that you’re happy holed up in my studio with me. I like that you sing along to every song that you recognize, even without realizing that you’re doing it.”

He took a cautious step closer, pleading with his eyes as he spoke.

“I like every little annoying thing that you do, because they’re what make you you. I’m so sorry that I made you think anything otherwise.”

You hadn’t moved as he spoke, fighting the tremble in your lip as your eyes had misted over with tears.

“Y/n?” He asked anxiously.

You didn’t speak, choosing instead to lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around him in a bruising hug. He staggering back slightly at the force of the collision, arms immediately coming up to hold you in an equally tight embrace.

“I missed you.” You sniffled, burying your face in his chest.

“I missed you too.” He replied, holding you tighter, pressing a soft kiss to your head. “I’m also sorry for telling you I loved you in a shitty way.”

“Eh, it’s kinda on brand for us, honestly.” You teased, making him let out a huff of laughter.

“I guess you’re right, fuck.” He shook his head.

“You wanna try again?” You offered.

He pulled back to look at you. “Really?”

You nodded. “If you want to.”

He nodded, pulling away enough to take your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles as he pressed his lips together nervously, eyes shaking slightly as he met your gaze.

“I love you, Y/n.”

He’d barely gotten the last word out before your lips were on his, effectively shutting you both up for the next several minutes.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes were blown wide, lips swollen and red from your assault, his breaths coming out in shaky puffs.

“I love you too, by the way.” You said, grinning at his slightly dazed expression.

“Cool, c’mere.” He said, pulling you back in, making you giggle as he eagerly reconnected your mouths.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

#yoongi drabble #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x reader #yoongi scenarios #yoongi oneshot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts requests #bts angst #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts one shot #7ndipity

[ladymunson]

One 18+

Fic summary: Bucky struggles with his feelings toward you, which he hides by pretending he doesn’t trust you. You get placed on a mission together where trust is essential.

A/N: sorry if this is all over the place, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so this might be a jumbled mess. Enjoy though!

Warnings: SMUT 18+, oral (f rec), fingering, language, unprotected p in v, kissing, heavy petting.

Word count: 5.3k

Not proofread and no beta (apologies for any mistakes)

I do NOT consent to my work being copied, translated or posted to any other platform.

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Dividers made by the wonderful @firefly-graphics and thank you to @jijilaufeyson for helping me make a decision.

“Are you serious?!” You throw your hands up in exasperation, “I’ve been with SHIELD for three years, I can do this mission by myself. I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do.” Bucky sneers, you turn your head towards him and glare.

“I hate to agree with Barnes but he’s right, I think you still need someone to keep an eye on you. Your ex was HYDRA after all.” Tony says, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

You throw your head back in frustration, they’re never going to forget about him.

Three years ago, you had come back to the apartment you shared with you boyfriend of two years to find the place swarming with HYDRA agents. He had been assigned to you to eventually recruit you to HYDRA after they had discovered your abilities.

You’d always been able to sense how someone was feeling by just being near them and eventually it had morphed into being able to influence their emotions. You could walk into a party or a meeting and know exactly who to look out for, whether it be because they were vulnerable or someone with ill intention.

It took immense concentration, effort and energy to be able to change someone’s emotions without touching them. Which you always try and avoid, you don’t want to change someone unintentionally, you could ruin things for them. So, you manage to keep your emotions in check most of the time, and don’t accidentally influence anyone.

The moment you realised that Russell was HYDRA, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but they weren’t going to let you go without a fight. Luckily, you’d befriended the Black Widow, Natasha Romanoff, when you’d met her and Wanda Maximoff one night at a local dive bar after Russ had blown you off again. One text to her and they’d both been at your door and helped you get away from the agents and back to the safety of Avengers Tower where you’d been subjected to an intense interrogation from Tony Stark, Cliff Barton and Bucky Barnes.

You’d thought that after all the years spent training and fighting by their sides, they would trust you by now, but obviously they don’t. Or more specifically; Bucky doesn’t. Cliff had decided you were trustworthy the first time he interrogated you and had told them as much, but Bucky wasn’t hearing it. So here you were three whole years later, still deemed untrustworthy by the Winter Soldier of all people.

“You know what…?” You start and Bucky smirks at you, adding more fuel to the fire. “I’m glad you’re doing the recon alone, gives me time to pack.” Bucky raises an eyebrow. “This is my last mission, I’m done. I quit!” You turn on your heel and leave the conference room without another word.

Bucky groans and places both hands on the table in front of him, flesh beside vibranium, and hangs his head.

“Well that went well Barnes.” Tony says as he walks over to the door. “Looks like I have to do damage control.” He points at Bucky. “You find something on that recon and figure out a way to fix this. We can’t lose her.” And leaves the room, the glass door swinging back and forth.

Bucky makes a fist and slams it down on the table in front of him. “Fuck!”

You stalk down the hallway, heading to your room, walking past everyone and ignoring them all as they try talking to you. Natasha notices and follows you to your room, the doors are automated so you can’t even slam it to let out your frustration. So, you throw your self face down on your bed and scream into the comforter. Natasha just stands by the door, not saying anything and waits for you to finish your screaming.

“Feel better?” She asks as you flip yourself over to lay on your back.

“I can’t believe he still doesn’t trust me! Well, it doesn’t matter anymore, I quit.” You say without looking in her direction.

“You didn’t quit.” Natasha says as she walks over to join you on your bed.

“I did, straight to Bucky and Tony’s faces. Both of them looked shocked but I don’t care anymore. I’m fucking done!” You say as you jump off the bed and begin going through your closet and putting clothes in a suitcase.

The one thing you want, is to have Bucky’s trust…. Okay there’s something you want more than his trust, but you’re never going to get it. If he doesn’t trust you to be member of his team, there’s no way he’s going to trust you in any sort of relationship. So rather than trying anymore, you’ve picked the nuclear option. Serves him right!

“Buck…?” Steve says as he walks into the conference room where Bucky is still hunched over the table. “What’s going on?”

“What is wrong with me Steve? Why can’t I trust people?”

“You mean y/n?” Steve asks. Bucky groans. “Buck, I think it’s obvious to everyone except you and y/n that you like her.” Bucky looks up at Steve. “In a romantic way.”

Bucky stammers, “N... no I don’t.” Steve raises an eyebrow and smirks at Bucky.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since she joined SHEILD, hell you haven’t even on a date in a year. You like her.”

“You’re right Steve, I do. But… She quit.” Bucky says as his head hangs head.

“What did you do? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Fix it!” Steve says and leaves the room.

You and Bucky avoid each other for the next week, but to be fair he was out doing recon for the mission with Sam, who had been ribbing him about his feelings for you and pissing Bucky off. They had however, been able to meet the mark and started integrating themselves into his world. Your role as Bucky’s girl would come later, and you couldn’t help feeling like he was ruining your chances to prove yourself. You could’ve done the getting to know the mark and maybe brought Bucky or Sam or even Steve in as your man later on.

You hated to admit it but their getting to know him first was the better plan as not many women were in that world.

The mark. Carlo Vizzini is the head of an organised crime syndicate, who deals stolen HYDRA and SHIELD weapons and technology to other members of the syndicate. The goal is to find the times and locations of all the shipments being brought into the city, finding a list of buyers would be the icing on the cake but it isn’t a priority.

Bucky’s role is to present himself as someone new to the area who wants to become a member of the syndicate. FRIDAY has come up with an elaborate backstory for the two of you, created entire histories for you both which you’ve spent the last week reviewing and learning. Your backstory isn’t too far away from your real story, so it isn’t hard to memorise. The problem is pretending to be his girl. How can you possibly work together and be convincing if it’s obvious to everyone that he doesn’t trust you. There has to be a reason why Tony suggested Bucky for the mission and not Steve, you don’t know what it is, not that you care because you won’t be around once this mission is completed.

The story. You and Bucky have moved to New York from Michigan, where was a mid level HYDRA agent who oversaw a warehouse that contained new tech. The place had been breached while he was attending a HYDRA event with you, and they had fired him for allowing the breach to happen (An actual event orchestrated by Vizzini).

You had been together for five years at the point you’re at, and Tony had decided to add the fact that you were recently engaged. So, you had to wear an obnoxiously huge diamond on your left ring finger, which really bugged you. You had both been set up in a brownstone in Brooklyn, sleeping in separate rooms but having to appear all lovey dovey in case you were being watched.

Four weeks later.

Carlo Vizzini has invited Bucky and you to an event hosted at his mansion in the Hamptons, where you will both be introduced to other syndicate members. So, you need a spa day and shopping trip where you can buy a dress for the event and be seen out and about acting like this is a normal occurrence. Tony has also arranged for someone from Tiffany to show up at your house and lend you some jewellery for the event as you’re a simple teeny hoop earring kind of girl.

You find the perfect dress while browsing online so it’s very easy to go and get it without having to actually search in store. Scratch that, Natasha found the dress for you and told you it would be a crime if you didn’t wear it.

The idea is to infiltrate the syndicate event, find the intel and get out without your cover being blown until the weapons and tech have been recovered. If your covers can last beyond that until the entire syndicate has been taken down, that’s even better.

So, you’ve been to the salon and had your hair done and are heading back to the brownstone when you notice the dark SUV you spotted outside the mall had parked across the road and the occupant was crossing over to you. You play it off like you haven’t noticed, a civilian wouldn’t have and that’s who you are for the foreseeable future.

“Excuse me? Y/N” The stranger starts a conversation with you.

“Yes? You answer, turning to face the person who has spoken to you.

“I’m sorry, I work for someone your boyfriend is trying to get into business with and he’s asked me to check that you out.”

You chuckle, “Fiancé.” The stranger looks confused. “He’s my fiancé, not my boyfriend. Does Mr Vizzini think we haven’t done the same the same to him? Can’t be too careful these days, too many con men around, especially in New York.”

The stranger seems a little taken aback by your words, but continues, like his job is at stake. “I have a few questions, if you wouldn’t mind answering.”

You cross your arms over your chest and cock an eyebrow. “Okay?”

He takes a picture out of his jacket and asks. “Who is this man?”

The picture is of Sam Wilson, the Falcon but you answer, “That is Sam, James’s brother, adopted of course. “

“And how long have you been together?”

“Five years, engaged for one. Are we done here? I have to get ready for a party.” You say and turn to the steps of your brownstone, heading up to your front door.

“One more question.” You turn to face him again. “Can I use your bathroom?” You sigh and open the door, directing him the right way and stay in the hallway so he doesn’t sneak anywhere else for a snoop. You hear the cistern flush and the squeak of the faucet, but you also hear the sound of the medicine cabinet being opened. Yep, he’s snooping. A few moments later he steps out of the bathroom and thanks you as he leaves your house.

You head straight into the kitchen and start the coffee machine; you then grab a detector out of the kitchen drawer and head into the bathroom. Using it to detect for a bug, which you find in the cupboard under the sink and leave it there. You have a get out your phone and send a message, one you’ve prearranged with Bucky, telling him about the bug.

‘Can’t wait to see your reaction when you see what I have on under my dress (followed) tonight. You’re not gonna be able to keep your cool or your hands (Suspicious) to yourself’

‘New lingerie?” (Bug?)

‘Maybe (yes), but you’re gonna have to wait and see’

‘Can’t wait’ (Understood)

You’re gonna have to start your charade earlier than anticipated and act like a real couple. I suppose there are worse things in life than pretending to be in a relationship with Bucky. You can’t deny that the dude is hot.

You pretend to use the bathroom by slowly pouring a bottle of water in the toilet, flushing and washing your hands. Then you head back into the kitchen to pour yourself a coffee.

Bucky arrives home a short while later, carrying a bouquet of roses (Sam’s idea) and gives you a kiss. You feel a little twinge in your stomach, feeling his lips on yours. His kiss is light and sweet.

Feeling your lips on his sends a thrill through Bucky, the feelings he’s been trying to hide for years bubbling to the surface and he has to stop himself deepening the kiss.

“There’s fresh coffee in the kitchen babe, I’m going to start getting ready. No peeking!” You say and head upstairs.

Bucky stays downstairs to drink a coffee and makes a few phone calls, all in character of course, before heading upstairs to get into his tux which takes only a few minutes. He’s back in the living room in less than ten minutes, waiting for you join him.

Bucky isn’t downstairs for very long before he hears your heels on the upper landing and stands up to greet you but at seeing you, his breath hitches in his throat.

(This is the dress you wear)

“You’re fucking stunning!” Bucky breathes out, causing you to grin.

“Not too bad yourself James.” You reply as you walk down the stairs and take his outstretched hand.

You arrive at the house in the Hamptons, impressed with the size of the place, hanging on to Bucky’s arm. The size of it is really impressive and you live in Avengers Tower.

Bucky thinks that he must thank Natasha for picking out that dress. He can’t keep his eyes off of you, that dress hugs your curves in all the right places. Bucky knows he needs to remain professional, but he really wants to get his hands on you and bring you pleasure like you’ve never known. He won’t have any problem pretending to be your lover tonight, because that’s the only thing he wants.

The party is in full swing an hour later, you’ve mingled with everyone, hanging on Bucky’s arm, acting like he’s your entire world. And to him, you are his world. It’s not acting, he’s crazy about you and has been since you met.

Another forty-five minutes go by with the both of you all over each other, giving you a reason to sneak off at some point, to find the intel you’re there to get.

Bucky’s arm is around your waist, holding you close to him as you leave the “ballroom” where the party is. You’re acting the part really well, practically hanging off of him, hands wandering. Walking down the hallway, still all over each other, opening doors looking for a place to have some privacy. Some rooms are all occupied, but the one you’re looking for is empty, Vizzini’s office. As soon as you’re in the room and you part ways, straight back to business, heading for his desk and turning on his computer. Plugging a USB drive you take off of your bracelet into it, and copying the files.

“Heads up Buck, Carlo is on his way and he’s not alone.” Sam says over comms. The last file copies just in time, and you attach the USB back to the bracelet and walk back around the desk.

“Shit!” Bucky says. “We’re gonna get caught!”

Your brain works quickly, “I have an idea, but you have to trust me.” You say as you switch the computer off.

Bucky nods. “Okay.” You pull him over to the wall beside the door and lean against it. You reach up under your dress and remove your underwear, Bucky’s eyes bulge out of his head. You throw your panties in the vicinity of the desk and reach down to undo Bucky’s pants. “What are you doing?!” He asks.

“I told you to trust me, I’ll get us out of this.” You unbutton his slacks and bunch up your skirt a little. “Lift me.” You instruct. Bucky catches on and lifts you, so your legs are wrapped around his waist. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him close. “Go with it okay?” You say. Bucky gulps but nods and your lips meet in a searing kiss that makes you both moan out loud into each others' mouths. His hips begin to move instinctively, playing the part of a man who can’t keep his hands off of his girl. Bucky feels an usual sensation, kind of like a happiness he’s never felt before. As quick as he feels it, it goes away again.

You’re moaning loudly, alternating between passionate kisses and heavy breathing when Vizzini opens the door to his office and “catches” you, entering the room with two burly bodyguards. You gasp and fake panic.

“What the…?” He exclaims, his eyes bogging out of his head before he composes himself and continues. “This is my office, not a motel room!” You giggle. “This is not a laughing matter young lady, this is very inappropriate behaviour!” Bucky lifts you and places your heeled feet back on the floor and helps you rearrange your dress before tucking his shirt back into his slacks.

“We’re sorry Mr Vizzini, but when your girl looks like this, you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself.” Bucky says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“But this is my office!” Vizzini says, exasperatedly.

“We’re sorry but other rooms were occupied!” You say with a smirk. Vizzini nods and the two bodyguards rush out of the room, they return moments later, both red faced.

Vizzini nods again and turns to you. “We will not mention this again and our meeting Tuesday will go ahead.” Vizzini says. Before sitting at his desk and making a choked sound. “I think these belong to you.” He says, pointing to the black lace panties that had landed on the keyboard of his computer. You giggle and retrieve them from his desk, biting your lip as you do.

“Sorry again!” You giggle as Bucky wraps his arm around you and leads you out of the office. You head back to the party, makes it seem less like obvious that you’re involved in espionage.

You both carry on playing the devoted couple, you’re hanging off of him like someone who can’t get enough of their man. Sneaking kisses here and there, selling the bit. Vizzini reappears a little while later and blushes when you and he make eye contact, you smirk back at him and pull Bucky in for a kiss. It’s after midnight by the time your car has pulled up outside and you’ve said your goodbyes.

You’re still all over each other as you get into the car, smiling and waving to everyone as the car pulls away. You keep the act up until you’re on your way out of the Hamptons and on the free way before you separate, in case you were followed. You stay close to each other just so you can snap back together quickly if you noticed someone watching you or for when you get back to the brownstone that is your “residence” at least until this mission is over.

You can smell Bucky’s cologne and it’s been invading your nostrils since you walked down the stairs before leaving in the early evening. It’s lingering on your skin from how you’ve been all over each other all night. You recognise it as Sauvage, one of your absolute favourites. You can’t remember Bucky ever wearing it before, he’s usually a Hugo Boss guy, which is another of your favourites. You momentarily let your control slip (not for the first time this evening) and imagine what it would be like, to have Bucky’s affections and let happiness bloom inside you, but you stop it as soon as you feel it reaching your face.

Bucky has put so much effort into hiding how he feels, he feels like he’s suffocating right now. He feels something again, like a happiness that he’s never felt before. But it disappeared as quickly as he feels it. The truth is drowning him and he needs to tell you how he feels, the thought actually terrifies him though. What if you reject him? What if you don’t feel the same way?

He needs to talk to Steve, find out how to approach this because he can’t lose you before he’s even had you. The car pulls up to your brownstone and you both get out, his arm around your shoulders as you head up the steps. “I need to go run a quick errand I’ll be back soon, wait up for me?” Bucky asks.

“Of course, baby, I’ll see you when you get back.” You reply with a kiss on the lips, smiling at him as you unlock the door and step inside, closing it behind yourself and leaning against the door with a sigh.

Bucky runs to the bodega on the corner and uses their pay phone, making sure that he’s concealed before dialling.

“Hello…?” Steve answers on the fourth ring, his voice scratchy with sleep.

“How do I tell her? After everything, what do I say?” Bucky’s words are rushed out, not even telling Steve that it’s him.

Steve lets out a sigh. “Buck, just say what you feel. Honestly is the best policy. She needs to know what you feel is real and not because of what you’re both living right now. Open up, I think she will be more open than you expect. I’m going back to sleep now.” Steve hangs up and Bucky is more determined than ever.

He grabs a bottle of wine and some other items so it looks like he had a legit reason to be in the bodega, pays and heads back to your brownstone.

He unlocks the door, you’re not in the living room when he gets back so he quickly takes off the jacket of his tux and goes into the kitchen and puts the items he bought away. Bucky rolls the sleeves of his white shirt up his arms, grabs two glasses and opens the wine then heads upstairs.

You’re in your bedroom, you’ve taken off your dress and are wearing a short black silk robe. He walks in with the wine and goes to speak but the words die in his throat. He takes a deep breath and closes the door, you raise an eyebrow but take one of the wine glasses off of him as he pours the red wine into it. He pours his own, puts the bottle down and takes a big gulp from his glass.

“We need to talk.” The words rush out with his breath.

“About what?” You reply.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky says, looking straight in your eyes. “I act like I don’t trust you because it’s easier than admitting the truth, but the truth is what you deserve so here goes…” You look at him expectantly. Bucky takes another deep breath before he continues. “I like you and I have since we met, and it scared me because I’ve never caught feelings that quickly before. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever caught feelings like I have for you, with anyone. I think I…” he stops himself.

“You think you what?” You nudge.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You look into his eyes and the cerulean blue shows nothing but sincerity. He means it. He loves you. You contemplate telling him how you feel but actions speak louder than words.

You walk to Bucky, standing in front of him. You lick your lips he looks into your eyes, searching for hesitation and finding none. He reaches out for you, his hand grabs the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. His lips brush yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You look into each others eyes and you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him closer and planting a firm kiss on his lips.

Your lips feel like they were made to kiss his, they slot together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. He sighs contentedly as your lips open to allow his tongue access, your tongues dance together, caressing each other as your bodies get even closer.

Something snaps in Bucky and he pulls you towards him, walking backwards until he’s against the wall. He spins you around and pushes you against the wall, breaking the kiss and leaving you panting for breath.

“I need you to say that you want this, please say you want this. I can’t bear one more moment without touching you.” Bucky says breathlessly.

“I want it, I want you.” You say and reach out for him again. He kisses you sweetly, pulls back and sinks to his knees. He plants a kiss on the inside of your knee which makes you shudder. “Fuck!” You moan out as his mouth kisses up your thigh, getting closer and closer to your centre. Bucky lifts your robe and groans out loud, noticing that you never replaced the underwear you removed in Vizzini’s office. He grabs your knee and lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder and moving his mouth to your mound, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. “Holy shit!!” You moan out and grab Bucky’s head with one hand and scratching at the wall with the other.

Bucky groans at your taste and begins to practically make out with your pussy, his eyes glassed over as your juices drip down his chin. His uses two fingers on his flesh hand and teases your hole, gathering your slick until he can sink them into you, straight to the knuckle. He’s eating you with such fierce ferocity and fucking you with his fingers so passionately that your orgasm builds quickly. “I’m not gonna last much longer.. I’m gonna…” a long moan escapes your lips as your orgasm washes over you. You shudder and shake, struggling to breathe as you ride the waves of your climax, your cunt pulsating around his fingers.

Bucky’s oral ministrations slow as your orgasm dies down, and your breathing returns to normal. He removes his fingers and your leg from his shoulder, stands and unbuttons his shirt before removing it and using it to wipe his face. He stands there in a white vest, his face flushed and looks at you adoringly. Bucky undoes your robe and lets it fall off your shoulders, leaving you in just your bra. You reach out and undo his pants, pushing them down leaving him in just a pair of black boxers. You can see his erection straining the fabric, you want nothing more than to take what you can tell is an impressive member out of his underwear and show him how good your head game is. Bucky however has other ideas.

“Take off the bra, please. I need to see all of you.” He says, his eyes still glassy. You oblige and he groans out loud, he steps forward and pushes you against the wall again. He takes your left breast in his hand and massages gently, causing you to arch into him. He lowers his head and takes your nipple in his mouth, circling the tight bud with his tongue. Bucky stops and plants a searing kiss on your mouth, it’s sloppy, full of teeth and tongues. He pushes his underwear down as you’re kissing, depriving your view.

You still don’t get a glimpse as he grabs your ass and lifts you, your legs automatically going around his waist as you continue your assault on each others' mouths, it’s like you can’t get enough. Bucky breaks off the kiss as he looks into your eyes, the both of you are heavy breathing already. “Ready?” He asks, you nod. “Words baby.”

“Yes please!” You feel the head of his cock against your entrance, gathering as much of your creamy slick as he can. Before notching inside you, your eyes roll back in your head as he slides into your wet cunt, painstakingly slowly. He wants you to feel every inch, every vein, the way he throbs for you. Once he bottoms out in you, you release the breath you didn’t realise you were holding. Your arms are around Bucky’s shoulders, holding onto him for dear life. You’ve never felt so full, so… complete. There’s a slight sting and burn, you can only assume but there’s a very good chance that he’s big and girthy.

Bucky plants a kiss on your lips before he begins to move, sliding out of you, almost completely before sinking into you again. The air is knocked from your lungs, you feel amazing as his cock slides in and out of you at an agonisingly slow pace. You moan out loud at the sensation.

“Faster!” You groan out, frustrated at how slow he’s fucking you.

“All in good time, I need to feel you.” Bucky moans out, but pretty soon he can’t just revel in the feeling. He needs to move faster, chasing his end. His hips snap up quicker and your moaning increases in volume, that heat in your belly building again with each thrust of his hips.

Bucky takes your mouth again, kissing you with all of him as he fucks into you with abandon. Your moans and tongues intertwined, your heavy breathing entering each others' mouths. Your hands carding through Bucky’s hair, tugging gently on the strands at the nape of his neck. Each time you do it makes his hips thrust harder and makes him grunt. But you have to stop after a minute as the heat blooming in your belly expands more until it can go no further.

It snaps and blooms upward and downward, sending heat to your toes and making you see white. Your climax makes your head roll back and you let out a scream of pleasure. There’s a new sensation as your orgasm hits, the feeling of white-hot heat spreading through him. Happiness, love, every positive feeling ever shoots through him and the spasms of your cunt around his cock, prematurely sets off his orgasm. He has wanted to draw another two or three from you before his end but he can’t hold it back.

He roars out, even the way your climax muffled your hearing you heard him. You’ve never heard anything like that, the sound was primal, animalistic. Your breathing slows and you lower your head to look at him, he’s staring back at you, looking completely fucked out, but so do you.

“You okay baby?” Bucky asks, breathing heavily and pulling your face towards him so he can kiss you. You can’t even speak, you just about nod before he lifts you off the wall and carries you over to the bed. He lays you down and pulls his semi-hard cock out of you, which makes you whine. He goes into your en suite and grabs a washcloth to clean you up, before joining you on the bed. He pulls you close and you snuggle into his warm body, your hand rests on his chest, just above his heart.

Happiness blooms in his chest once more, a content feeling. He realises that you’re projecting onto him with your abilities but you’re too out of it to realise. The feeling is one of pureness, a feeling of love. Bucky realises he has had this feeling before, many times, the first time was the day he met you. He really did feel love at first sight, he didn’t think it was possible but it happened. And now you both knew how the other felt, there’s no way he was going to go back to the way it was. And you’re not leaving SHIELD. Not unless he leaves with you, because from now on, you are one.

THE END?

Posted 23/04/2024

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky smut #ladymunson #Bucky Barnes x female reader #18+ only

[bluerosefox]

GHOSTS WITH HEARTBEATS

When Jason had been going to Gotham Academy, he had (for a good reputation for the media and to help him catch up on his penmanship, remember he had been on the streets and dropped out of school before getting picked up by Bruce for a while) signed up for a penpal project for 'less privileged people' to write to.

(Although Jason was annoyed the penpal project stayed within the states and only selected a middle of nowhere town, he knew the Richie Rich Elites would never subjugate their 'Heirs' to actual kids in need of learning how to read and write)

But Jason didn't mind his penpal.

Danny Fenton was a riot to talk, err write to in all honestly.

From his dry punny humor (and boy can he give even Dick a run for his money in the pun department but hey using some of them actually got Dick to warm up to him a few missions ago) and death jokes so many death jokes, to his nerdy love for space Jason enjoyed writing to Danny.

Even the short stories he would write about a ghost kid protecting a small town from other ghosts was interesting to read. He really liked the different kinds of ghosts there could be. Granted some seemed very OP like that Clockwork dude.

Jason liked writing to Danny, and even after the penpal project was over they had plans to keep sending letters, maybe even exchange numbers soon...

But then he died by the hands of the Joker.

The letters leaving Wayne Manor may had decreased but the letters being sent never did or at least until a few years ago.

Then Jason somehow returned to the land of the living.

Got taken by the LoA, tossed in the green waters and turned into their Pit Raged weapon for a while before leaving them behind and setting out for his revenge against the Joker and to force B's hand.

And becoming a Crime Boss for a while too. Can't forget that.

Point being with all this going on, the old warm memories of exchanging letters with Danny Fenton was pushed into the back of his mind and forgotten about for a while.

It isn't until one afternoon at Wayne Manor that while roughhousing with Dick, who had Jason in a brotherly headlock as they walked down a hall to one of the sitting rooms, that while Jason had slipped out of Dick's hold had stumbled into a hallway desk that had a few things on the top of it, one of the things being a small box that tumbled off when Jason hit it.

The box lid opened and out of it spilled out a good number of letters.

"Shiii-p, dang it Dick!" Jason said when he looked at the mess he accidentally made and stopped himself from swearing, the place might be named Wayne Manor but everyone knew this was Alfie's domain and no swearing was a rule within his halls.

Dick only laughed and teased only in a way a sibling can do "Hey not my fault your as big as a tank Jaybird! We should get you some caution signals if you keep bumping into things!"

Jason flipped him his favorite finger, thankfully Alfred only knew when they swore thus it did not summon him, and bent down to the letters.

His hands froze when he recognized the hand writing and the address it was sent from.

"From: Danny Fent Nightingale

Amity Park, IL"

To: Jason Todd-Wayne

Gotham City, NJ.

Wayne Manor"

And when Jason opened the letter. He really wasn't expecting what was written inside.

"Jason.

I'm finally leaving Amity Park. I can't be there anymore, not after everything. I'm too tired, and emotionally hurt. Everything is just to much. And I can't keep doing this to myself. My parents still can’t understand there is nothing ‘wrong’ with me or why I refuse to let them take care of Ellie, I refuse to let her live the way Jazz and I did, Jazz has to much on her plate already with her own life and college but she’s been hounding me to reach out to mom and dad, Sam refuses to listen to me when I tell her I want to be more than ‘Phantom’ in Amity Park, and Tucker is so busy trying to get into a good college and job we barely have time to talk nowadays. And don’t get me started on Vlad, that fruitloop’s been breathing down my neck since Ellie’s deaging.

Despite how much of a hellhole you like to call it, I think Gotham might be my, no mine and Ellie’s best bet of living some kind of life, especially now since the whole deaging she had to go through, she needs an ectoplasm rich city as well and since she has no actual papers because she was my clone and I remember you saying Gotham has people who can create new identities and-

I’m rambling again, to letter you again. I really need to stop it.

I can’t keep pretending you’re going to read these.

I know you’ll never read these. You’re gone. I can’t even find you in the Realms no matter where I look.

I’m sorry. For using you as, well, a way to vent my life for last couple of years. I shouldn’t had done it but it helped me.

Believing my friend was still alive and getting my letters I mean.

Again I’m sorry.

This will be my last letter to your ghost, pun unintended.

Goodbye Jason. Wish us luck in your city.

-Danny Fen-Nightingale...."

The sent date on the letter was roughly eight years ago.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #dp x dc #blue rambles #danny phantom dc #writing ideas #random idea #dpxdc #danny kept writing letters to jason even after his announced death #jason todd #danielle phantom #ellie phantom #deaged ellie #Jason asks Alfred about the letters #and Alfred says he nor Bruce had the heart to open them since they were addressed to Jason #instead Alfred put them away but because he hasn’t gotten a letter and with their chaotic lives he forgot #Jason is conflicted #should he reach out? to his old friend #Also what did Danny mean in his last letter? Deaging? with #he reads the other letters and realize the stories of a ghost boy might not just be stories #Danny is living in Gotham with Ellie #he cut some ties in Amity #He’s done his best to stay off the Bats radar though #he doesn’t wanna be dragged into the hero business again #He does meet RH when Ellie and her classmates are kidnapped though #what happens next is open ended #maybe dead on main? idk

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo thirst #satoru gojo x you #gojo x y/n

[pollyanna-nana]

Louie isn’t evil.

Or: what Pikmin 4 tells us about his character.

BIG WARNING FOR PIKMIN 4 SPOILERS! (and the rest of the series)

———

I want to preface this by saying that I am in no way trying to be the end-all, be-all of character interpretations, but Pikmin 4 to me, at least, confirms the suspicions I’ve had since playing Pikmin 2 and 3 all those years ago that Louie ISN’T secretly evil, or possessed, or whatever else. He’s just… Louie. And I think that’s interesting in and of itself.

1. Olimar himself vouches for him, and clearly doesn’t think he’s a bad person.

Say what you will, but I’m inclined to think Olimar is a decent judge of character. Clearly he’s worked with Louie for enough time to see that while he’s not very good at his job, he’s not intentionally so— at least not in a malevolent way (will get more into this later). He also wants you to forgive him for Olimar’s sake, which can be read as self-sacrificing (as Olimar is known to be) but I also think hints at the soft spot he has for Louie.

It's also worth noting that he states during a end-of-day conversation that he told Louie that, since he's a new employee, he should do everything Olimar does... including throw castaways into the onion. Interesting that Louie took this so literally, but it does provide an explanation for why he kidnapped the Koppaites beyond "he's evil and crazy".

2. He really, REALLY loves his grandma.

Like, wow. He talks about her SO MUCH both in his Piklopedia entries and also elsewhere in the game. It's interesting. Worth noting is that he never mentions any other family members- unlike Olimar, who talks about his wife and each of his children independently. I've said this before, but the content of a lot of these entries implies to me that Louie was mainly raised by his grandma, likely since birth. And given some of her emails in Pikmin 2, assuming they're also canon to Pikmin 4's timeline... Well, Louie certainly had an interesting upbringing. But he clearly loves her all the same.

3. He has a mischievous streak and tends to do things on impulse.

This was already fairly obvious from the previous games, but I think it's worth noting that this game confirms that he's... would immature be the right word? In any regard, he doesn't seem to see himself as a "grown-up"- when in all likelihood he is. Personally, as a 22-year-old, I find that pretty relatable as I often think of myself as younger when in reality I am by all definitions an adult. This, along with his grandma still being around, makes it pretty much certain that Louie is a lot younger than Olimar and the president, likely in his early to mid twenties. Being a bit of a goofball isn't really out of the ordinary, all things considered.

THAT BEING SAID, he's clearly capable of practicing self-restraint when he wants to. What he says here about the red Pikmin is pretty significant, since we know he's willing to eat just about anything- but clearly he has some reservations about creatures that are friendly and helpful. Which leads to...

4. He loves dogs and fluffy things.

Same. But he doesn't even consider eating Moss, Oatchi or the Ancient Sirehound, showing that his creature-eating habits stop at things he recognizes as useful. He clearly also holds affection for things that are soft and fuzzy, and says as much.

5. He is so autism.

He plays with fidget toys. He loves certain textures and sounds. This guy is stimming all over PNF-404!!! I think this also lends some explanation for why his behavior is what it is- things like taking Olimar's suggestion to do as he does super literally even after crashing on an alien planet, his hyperfixation on cooking and tendency not to communicate and incorrectly interpret situations (thinking the Koppaites are kidnappers in 3, running away from you in 4). He could even be low or no empathy as well, explaining why it takes a hot minute to get him to understand why people are upset with him about something.

Interestingly this game also makes it clear that Louie wants to live on the planet, or at least thought he did while you were chasing him down, which makes a lot of sense when you consider that he doesn't really seem to fit in back on Hocotate. I, too, wish to run away to an alien world with all of the things that I like and no other people, so I get you, Louie.

6. He hates his boss and his job, and the golden pikpik carrot incident was likely premeditated.

This probably looks bad, but honestly? As a fellow work-hating anti-capitalist schmuck I get it. The president is for all intents and purposes a huge asshole, from sending Olimar straight back to the planet after selling his ship to not caring that Louie got left behind, just wanting to find the rest of the treasures. I doubt he is very kind to his employees, and doesn't seem very good at running the business. Definitely a funny character, but if he were my boss I would absolutely want to punt him into the sun.

From some other entries he clearly wants to sell certain things to accrue money, but it's for things like getting better kitchen tools and following his dream to have his own cooking show. Clearly being a freight driver isn't what Louie actually wants to do with his life, and he could not give less of a shit about what happens to the company. Very short-sighted on his part, but also again, yeah I get you Louie.

7. He... doesn't like the color red for some reason.

Honestly, I'm not even really sure what to make of this. Is it because it reminds him of the Hocotate ship? Or does he just not like the color? Would be very interesting considering that it's Olimar's signature color. Perhaps that's at least part of why he attacks you in Pikmin 2- though that's speculation for another day.

Also funny to me is his comments on the black-colored treasures. We know blue is his favorite color, but I guess he's also a bit of a goth at heart. Lol.

In conclusion.

I think Louie isn't written or intended to be evil, and Pikmin 4's portrayal of him was intentionally written to confirm this. He's just, as some have said, an agent of chaos, but that doesn't make him a bad person. Just an autistic 20-something working a shitty job he doesn't care about, who loves his grandma and has a mischievous streak and a hyperfixation on food. At least from what I can interpret, ymmv!

#polly speaks #pikmin #pikmin 4 spoilers #pikmin spoilers #pikmin 4 #pikmin 2 #pikmin 3 #louie pikmin #olimar pikmin #character analysis #I guess #I dunno I mostly just wanted to put all this shit together in my brain but I guess other people can see it too haha #This is a non exhaustive list btw I just had a limit to how many images I wanted to wrangle but maybe I'll add on to this in the future #for now uh. Enjoy my weird rambling about the pikmin gremlin

[barcaatthemoon]

serial heartbreaker || leila ouhabi x reader ||

leila comes back to barcelona after you figure out that she cheated on you in manchester.

it became obvious that something was up whenever your teammates started acting weird around you. alexia and mapi were the first, but ona, pina, and claudia quickly followed suit. ona began to outright avoid you, which hurt pretty badly. almost as badly as whenever you finally realized what was going on.

you sat with your suspicions for several weeks before they were officially confirmed. leila was careful, but she got sloppy. it was in the back of someone else's instagram stories. your eyes had zeroed in on your girlfriend making out with another girl in the background of a video that one of her teammates had shot.

it was hard not letting on that you knew anything, but you weren't nearly as good at it as you thought you were. alexia could see that you were hurting, as could more of your more perceptive teammates. the one who had shocked you was lucy, who had snapped at leila whenever she came back to spain for a visit, claiming to have missed you dearly.

"get the fuck out of here," lucy had practically growled at leila. the woman had planned on surprising you, and at lucy ruining that, leila got pissed. the two of them were at each other's throats, and it took mapi and alexia leading leila away for things to calm down a bit. you couldn't hear them at first, but soon the hallway was full of your two barcelona teammates yelling at leila in spanish. "are you okay?"

"yeah, i'm fine," you answered quietly. lucy kneeled down next to you and put her hand around your shoulders. "how long have you guys known?"

"ona told me about it a few months ago. i didn't want to have to be the one to tell you. i'm sorry for not mentioning it earlier," lucy said. you nodded as you pulled her into a hug.

"it's okay. i probably wouldn't have believed you for a while. i couldn't, leila promised she'd never do something like this," you said. lucy understood how you felt. ona had been livid with the other spanish player whenever she had found out, to the point where lucy was certain they hadn't spoken to each other since. "when do you think they'll be done? i do have to talk to leila at some point."

"just tell her to get the fuck out of here, please? i know that she means a lot to you, but you can't go back to her. ona said it herself, leila will do it again," lucy pleaded with you. if it had been anybody else, you probably would have ignored the warnings, but lucy didn't like to get involved with people's lives like this.

"i'll try to," you promised. lucy pressed a kiss to your head before she helped you up to your feet. the two of you walked over to where alexia and mapi were still tearing into leila, who looked both ashamed and angry. lucy pulled your teammates away to give you some privacy with leila.

"amor," leila started. she moved towards you, but you held your hand up to keep her away from you. "please, let me explain."

"there's nothing to explain, leila. you cheated on me, it is that simple. you can blame the distance, your loneliness, the fact that you're just so affectionate. you can say anything that you want, but that doesn't change the fact that you cheated on me," you told her. "so go ahead and explain yourself because i'd love to hear whatever bullshit you've been telling yourself, but once you're done, i want you to answer all my questions."

"i missed you, and i was angry because i told you not to come with me. you offered to come to manchester, but i told you to stay here instead. i was all alone, and it was my fault, so i took it upon myself to be less lonely. it was just hook ups at first, i swear, and then there was this girl on the training staff. we hit it off, things are going great, but she's not you," leila said. all her words did was fill you with rage. she had confirmed that this had been going on for a lot longer than you knew, and worse than that, she was still with one of the girls she had cheated with.

"get the fuck out of here. if i never see you again, it'll still be too fucking soon." you turned on your heels and walked right out of the room. leila tried to chase after you, but lucy was right there to stop her. you walked into the locker room and went straight to your locker, beginning to pack up your things to go home.

"(y/n), are you okay?" mapi asked as she sat down next to you. you weren't crying, it was far past that, but you were obviously pissed. you didn't mean to direct it at mapi, but the glare you gave her had the woman backing away from you instantly. unfortunately for you, alexia wasn't as easily scared by you.

"i'm sorry that we didn't do something before," alexia said as she pulled you into a hug. her embrace was tight and comforting, but you didn't let yourself relax. most of the girls looked away, but you could see ona standing across the room looking at you longingly. she had been avoiding you for months, and it killed her to not be by your side as your best friend.

"come here oni," you told her. she raced over towards you, both of you dissolving into fits of tears as soon as you were in each other's arms. her apologies were scrambled in between sobs and spanglish, but you knew that she meant it. still, a part of you couldn't forgive her for what happened. she had known since the beginning that leila had cheated on you, but she hadn't said anything to you.

"do you need a ride home?" alexia asked once you and ona had calmed down a little. you nodded as you picked up your bag. the team didn't miss the way that you ignored ona as she said goodbye to you. the anger you felt for leila was starting to spread around the team, and if it wasn't for the fact that you needed alexia for support, you'd probably shut her out too. "it's not an excuse, but none of us knew how to tell you about leila. you seemed so happy, and i knew she'd do this when she started talking about switching teams. i didn't think it'd get so out of hand."

"were you listening to us?" you asked. alexia nodded her head as she started driving. you knew that she wasn't taking you back to your apartment. "did you know it was with so many girls?"

"no, it's never been that many before," alexia muttered. you could see that she wasn't just angry. "you were supposed to be different for her. i believed in her not to do this again. i'm sorry, if there's anybody you should be mad at, it's me, not ona. i'm the one who knew about this pattern. don't ruin a friendship with someone who doesn't deserve to be caught in the crossfire."

"it's hard right now. all i can think about is that she knew," you admitted. alexia sighed as she squeezed your hand. "i could have done the same thing to leila, but i didn't. why did she have to do that to me?"

"sometimes, she's careless about things that she shouldn't be. she was careless with your trust. it's hard, but try not to think about her. don't give her a second thought, because eventually, the pain will subside along with your feelings for her," alexia said. you tilted your head to the side as you realized that she was speaking from experience. "do you want to be alone right now or can i come inside too?"

"don't you have practice?" you questioned. alexia shrugged.

"not if you need a shoulder to cry on," she told you. "let me know what you need, and i'll do my best to get it for you."

"i want you to come with me, and maybe, when practice is over, we can call ona," you told her. alexia nodded as she got out of the car. she got your bag for you, and for a moment, it reminded you of the way that leila had been with you in the beginning of your relationship. the only difference was that alexia didn't look at you like leila did, as if she knew that you were already head over heels for her.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi imagine #leila ouahabi x reader

[nevieatiny]

Mrs. Park?

Seonghwa x reader

Summary: Maybe there were different ways to help your boyfriend get a refund, but calling him your "husband" made it sound more dramatic, right?

Word count: 1,449

Genre: Pure fluff

You loved your boyfriend more than anything in the world, you really did, however, something that you hated and you mean HATED about him was that sometimes he was way too nice and struggled to speak up for himself.

You've been doing a lot of christmas shopping recently, and because of that he choose the wrong size when he picked a sweater for his mom, he made you promise you would not intervine this time because he was a "grown man who's able to do a refund by himself" so you did try to look around the store in the mean time, however not even the toy section was able to distract you from that feeling of something going wrong or someone being rude to your boyfriend.

you've worked in customer service for several years, you knew all it took was being nice, but at the same time there was people who just hated being there and would mistreat customers just to make them leave, it was ok if someone did that to you, you knew how to defend yourself and speak up, but some people don't.

So after 15 minutes of your boyfriend not coming back you're heading to see how he's doing at the customer service counter, as you approached the only thing you saw was your poor boyfriend tapping his fingers anxiously against the counter, he was all by himself you assumed he was waiting for the customer service rep.

"Before you shush me away" you said as you were approaching him "i just want to see how you're doing so far, i see that no one's here, so i'm guessing great" you patted his but few times before leaning on him, you were waiting for a lame comeback, but all he did was to lean his head on top of yours and let out a long sigh "how do you do this?" "was it that bad?" that's when he took his phone out looking at the time "she's been gone for more than 10 minutes", you didn't knew how to feel, at first you felt bad for him, he seemed almost sad about it, but after that it was pure rage, why would they do that, you get that christmas and new year could be the toughest time of the year for anyone on customer service, it was 11 am but the place was literally empty.

"Do you want me to take over?" you asked while running your fingers through his hair "i really thought i could do this by myself this time" "yeah but to be fair you choose to do this before christmas, everyone is miserable by now and they just want to go home, most likely they would have to work during christmas, that's not an excuse tho" as you were talking to him you saw a young girl approaching, she might not even be 20, she had a frown on her face and rolled her eyes when she saw you, and at that moment you knew what you were dealing with.

"theres nothing we can you because you bought this 2 weeks ago" she threw the sweater and the receipt on the counter not even looking at you, and before your boyfriend took the clothing piece (most likely as a defeat to just leave right after) you spoke "that literally does not make any sense, when we bought that they said we had a month to get a refund if we keep the receipt" she looked at you for a few seconds before trying to respond before you cut her off "you made my husband wait for 10 minutes just to come up with a stupid excuse to make him leave" Seonghwa looked at you with a surprised expression, he knew what you were doing, but that didn't stopped his heart from beating faster and faster, he took a deep breath to calm himself while he pretended to straighten his clothes with his hands, for a moment he looked down at your hand and he thought about grabbing it, but then he remembered you were kinda busy trying to do what he was not able to.

Maybe you were raising your voice too much because a few seconds later an older man dressed in a expensive suit joined her behind the counter "'I'm sorry ma'am, how can i help you today?" this time your boyfriend spoke behind you, giving him the garment "i'm just trying to get a refund, i choose the wrong size" you knew Seonghwa usually avoided conflicts, but the fact that she let him just waiting like a fool standing there just fueled you anger "My husband kindly came here asking for a refund and your employee left him here waiting for 10 minutes, she went i don't know were and came back with a lame excuse to make him leave, this is unacceptable, do you let your employees treat people like that?, what if he was an elder who had no idea what to do just trying to get a gift for his loved ones?" that's when you felt Seonghwa's hand on your waist gently bringing you closer to him "I'm so sorry to hear that ma'am, and i do apologize for the inconvenience" at this point the girl was standing beside him with her arms crossed "maybe she meant to say that we can give you a refund or you can choose the right size of the same sweater you choose before" he just looked back at the girl with a forced smile, hoping she would not make the situation worst, when she didn't respond you just looked back at him "don't worry, you don't have to apologize, but it's up to my husband" the man behind you passed the last 5 minutes daydreaming, he already had a venue in mind, he was thinking whether the cake should be a classic white cake or maybe he would ask you to let him have a Star Wars themed cake, after that you could go to New Zealand as you've always planned for your honeymoon, or maybe Paris?, no, you've always wanted to go to New Zealand, and since he is for sure insisting on the Star Wars themed wedding that's the least he can do for you, or maybe a lego cake? that would be new, his friends would definitely envy him for that.

"Babe" That's when he realized the three of you were looking at him so you had to repeat the question for him "i think we can pick the right size this time" "of course Sir, that's a great idea, we can wrap it as gift for you as well" the older man looked at the girl this time and asked her to go and get the sweater for you, he didn't had to but when she rolled her eyes you decided she could use a few extra steps "Can you show me your ID to process it on the system please Sir?" your boyfriend seemed off, in the clumsiest way possible he took out his wallet to show his id.

After just a few minutes the employee gave you the gift wrapped up and ready along with your receipt "Again i'm so sorry for the inconvenience Mr. and Mrs. Park, and happy holidays" your boyfriend took the gift and quietly bowed at them before wishing them happy holidays as well, at this point the "Husband" thing was long forgotten to you, but as the two of you walked out of the store you saw your boyfriend looking at the gift as if it was the most interesting thing in the world "you ok?" there were a few seconds of silence before he spoke " I've always feared that you would beat me up to ask you to marry me, but i never thought you would do it in a department store" that's when it hit you, you didn't even asked him if it was ok "i'm sorry if that made you feel uncomfortable, i just thought it sounded more serious, i think i got carried away" "it's okay, you look hot when you're mad" even after developing the ability of have a verbal fight without crying and thinking that you were in control of your emotions this man never failed to make you a blushing mess with the most simple things "aawww, are you blushing right now Mrs Park?" you looked at him clearly not knowing how to react, smiling and frowning at the same time, this action only made Seonghwa kiss you in the middle of the hallway "keep teasing me and next time you would have to call the pizza restaurant yourself"

#ateez angst #ateez au #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez imagine #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x y/n #seonghwa imagines

[ddejavvu]

hello!! i hope you’re doing well ❤️ i just read your hotch fic where he sneaks his wife and jack into the hotel room and i was wondering if you’d write something similar where jack is with jess or something and someone from the team catches hotch and reader going into his room except they can’t tell it’s reader and think hotch is cheating and they love the reader and can’t stand the idea of letting them get cheated on so maybe they confront him or call reader while reader is with hotch to tell her or something funny, whatever you find fitting. thank you if you get to this ❤️

i actually fucking adored this idea thank you <333

--

Emily's always taken Hotch for an honorable man. He's chivalrous, opening doors for the ladies on the team and walking them to their cars to be sure that they're safe in parking lots. It's instilled in his very being to be kind to women, so when she sees him trying to cover up a head of blue-dyed hair as he fumbles with the lock on his hotel room, she's perplexed.

That's not you. You don't have blue hair. But Hotch's arm is around her waist, and she's leaning into his side. His hand is more than generous over her skin, even slipping into the hemline of her shorts, and Emily's blood boils.

Aaron's got a grin on his face that she can just barely see without being seen herself, and he sounds all-too-happy to be leading another woman into his hotel room after hours when he chuckles at her advances. She rushes for the bed and Emily has to duck back into her room so as not to be seen when the woman rights herself on the bed, and there's something sickly brewing in her gut as she shuts her door again. She no longer has an appetite to raid the vending machine like she'd planned, so she heads back to her twin bed, hand digging into her pajama pants to retrieve her phone.

Spencer' who's occupying the second bed in the room, looks up inquisitively from his book, "I thought you were going to the vending machine, what happened?"

"Hotch just let some girl into his room. I mean- like, he brought her in, he had his hands all over her and she ran to the bed."

Reid's brows rise towards his scruffy hairline, pink lips downturned, "It wasn't Y/N?"

"She had blue hair," Prentiss shakes her head, "I'm gonna tell her."

"I want to help," Spencer rises from his bed, quickly crossing the room to her own, "I don't want to make her sad, but we can't keep it from her."

Emily nods, but Spencer keeps talking, "I... I can't believe Hotch would do something like that."

"Neither can I." Emily admits, clicking on your text thread. It's heavily decorated with hearts both in the messages and your contact name, and she hopes yours doesn't break when you find out what your husband's been doing behind your back.

Y/N, she types, I don't know how to tell you this, and I wish someone else would, because I don't want to be the one to break your sweet heart. But I just saw Aaron bring some blue-haired girl into his room, and if I'm being honest with you, I think they're having sex. I'm SO sorry honey, I wish I could do something, but I couldn't live with myself if I didn't tell you. Please call me and tell me what's going on with you, I don't want you to be alone all night, and PLEASE don't slip away if you and Aaron don't work things out. For the record I'm rooting for you to dump his sorry ass, but I know you'll need time to work things out. All I ask is that you don't shut us out, honey, please don't let him change the way you feel about us.

P.S Reid is here too and we're both here if you want to talk. We can face-time and we'll be there for you as best we can, baby.

And also you can sleep at my place.

Or Spence's. He says he can sleep on the couch if you want his bed.

I'm so sorry, Y/N, we love you.

Emily can't have pressed send on the last text ten seconds ago before there's a series of urgent knocks on the door. Her guard is up immediately, and she almost considers ignoring it because she's sure it's Hotch coming to tell her off for exposing him. She figures you must have called him, upset, and he's here to ask her to lie for him.

The knocks don't stop, though, and Reid's the one that marches for the door, face set in a glare that's unusually menacing for him. He's deduced the same series of events, but when he swings the door open with as much sass as he can muster, his posture stiffens with shock.

Aaron is on the other side of the door, but you're standing in front of him, hair bright blue, face sheepish.

"Hi Em," You smile at her, then at Reid, "Spence. I was going to join you all for breakfast tomorrow and unveil it, but- um, I think now's a good time to tell you that I dyed my hair blue."

"Oh." Emily hums, mouth hung slightly open, "So it's- it was you."

"it was me," You nod, "But thank you for telling me. I'm glad I can count on you. Both of you," Your eyes flit to Spencer, who's equally astonished as he inspects your new hair dye.

"Oh, that means-" Emily's face wrinkles suddenly, looking at your waist that Aaron's got a hold of as he stands behind you, "Gross, you two were gonna- in the hotel!"

Spencer groans, rushing away from the door and retreating back to his bed where his novel lies.

"It's after hours!" You insist, "It's not like we were doing it in the precinct on government time. We're adults, Emily."

"We're adults too, y'know. With work in the morning. We can't be kept up all hours of the night by your racket! Just go get it over with," She grimaces, "And- hey! Try to get into your room this time before reaching your hand down her pants, perv!"

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner scenario #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one-shot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner headcanon #aaron hotchner headcanons #aaron hotchner hc #aaron hotchner hcs #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner dialogue #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader fanfiction

[bingbongsupremacy]

Baby

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: reader is able to get pregnant, pet names, argument, idk what else.

Summary: It's getting harder and harder to spend time with your husband and you have some really important news. (Pre-Outbreak)

*Not Proof Read* TLOU Masterlist

ABC List

*****

The room is silent, the only noise coming from our TV. Light bounces off of the walls, casting a small glow on the coffee table that moves.

I curl deeper into the couch, watching as the clock ticks by.

8:30....9:15....10:45....11:12...

Finally I hear keys jingling from the front door.

" You're still up? " Joel's voice is tired and raspy. He pulls off his boots, leaving them near the front door. " Is Sarah still up? "

I shake my head, rubbing my heavy eyes. " No. She's over at Gina's, down the street, for a sleepover. "

Joel wanders into the kitchen, pulling a can of beer out of the fridge. He takes a swig before heading towards the living room. For a moment, neither of us talks.

" You were supposed to be home at 6. " I glance over at the man. I take in his appearance. His eyes are dark from clear exhaustion. His shirt is covered in grime. It's obviously been a long day.

" I was. " He agrees, not saying anything more. He takes another sip of his beer. Condensation forms on the can, dripping down his hand.

His answer doesn't satisfy me. " Why weren't you? Why didn't you call? " I press.

This has been happening often. Every few days he stays out later than normal, most of the time, he 'forgets' to call.

Joel lets out a sigh, obvious frustration filling his expression. " I got caught up in my work. It wasn't supposed to go past 6, but stuff happens. You know that, babe. "

Irritation fills my body. " And you couldn't have bothered to, I don't know, check your watch and maybe call me? I was worried sick, Joel. I stayed up even though I have to be up at 6 for work tomorrow. " I push myself up, looking towards his face. Looking for something, something other than annoyance.

I was really hoping he'd be here at 6.

" I didn't ask you to do that. You could've gone to bed. Don't blame me for your decisions. I told you, I lost track of time. I don't have my phone on me when I'm working. " Joel's gaze meets mine.

Anger runs through my body. Usually I'm not this quick to anger but the hormones are driving me insane. The stress of unknowing along with Joel's careless attitude sends rage flowing through my body. " You really could give less of a shit about Sarah and me, huh? " I seethe, not thinking through my words.

Joel's eyes narrow. " What the fuck do you mean? " He starts getting defensive. " Of course I give a shit about you! I fucking work my ass off, for you two! " Joel's tone rises.

" Then why do you keep doing shit that makes us worry? " I exclaim. " You could have called at any point and it would've helped me feel better. I understand that you don't keep your phone on you while working, but is it really that hard to take a five minute break to call me? God-you need a break anyways! You'll fucking hurt yourself if you're constantly working. " My heart pounds. I stand up, trying to get some space between the man and I.

Joel stands up as well. His eyes burn into mine, sending a shiver of discomfort down my spine.

I hate when we get into arguments. My hormones and his exhaustion are mixing together to create a toxic cloud of anger and frustration.

" Like you'd even answer the fucking phone. " Joel rolls his eyes. " You've been so busy talking to your stupid fucking friends that it's nearly impossible to call you sometimes. "

He isn't wrong. I found out I was pregnant a few weeks ago, and I wanted-no I needed to tell someone. I wanted to make the announcement to Joel and Sarah important, something memorable. At the time, I just needed to tell someone else.

They've been there for me this entire time, helping me plan tonight. Helping me plan the dinner and gift for Joel.

A gift he never got to open and a dinner he never got to eat.

" Well I gotta talk to someone, Joel. You're never around anymore. " I snap.

" I'm working! " Joel lets out a breath.

" Your unbelievable. " I shake my head. I let out an angry laugh. " You know what, fuck this, Joel. You're not even listening to me. The point isn't that you're working late, it's that you don't bother to call home and tell me about it. I care about you, Joel. What-What if you got hurt? What if you got into a car crash or fucking died somehow? I'd have no idea because you don't bother to call me. All I want is one call, and that's too much to ask of you. " I push past the broad shouldered man. " Your dinner's in the fucking oven. It's your favorite. "

With that I storm upstairs, grateful Sarah wasn't here to witness the fight. I barely close the bedroom door before the tears start to flow.

Downstairs I hear Joel curse as he drops something on the ground. I lean against the door, doing my best to listen to the man below. His footsteps die off as he most likely settles onto the couch.

I just want him to call home.

_______

The next morning I leave before Joel wakes up. I send a quick text to Sarah, letting her know there's some food in the fridge.

My day seems to fly by. Piles of paperwork seem to disappear in minutes. Before I know it, it's time to head home.

An unsettled feeling wracks my stomach, surely not a good feeling for the baby. I'm still pissed at Joel. I just wish he understood where I'm coming from.

I unlock the front door and am immediately met with silence.

No one's home.

I let out a small sigh, walking towards the kitchen. My eyes widen in surprise when I spot Joel sitting at the kitchen table, a pair of small shoes in his hands.

He found the gift.

Of course he did, I left it on the dresser last night.

" Surprise. " I state while making my way to the fridge. " You're gonna be a daddy. Again. " My voice is unenthusiastic. Not the way I planned telling him at all.

" I'm so fucking sorry. " Joel blurts out. He runs his rough fingers over the small white laces, following the rhythm of the string. " I'm an asshole. "

" That you are. " I agree.

Joel finally looks up at me. His sad expression breaks my anger. Suddenly, I'm torn. Do I keep acting angry or do I feel bad for him?

" I deserve that. I-I shouldn't have yelled at you last night. Pregnant or not- You didn't deserve that. I took out my anger on you. I've...fuck I'll just tell you. I've been working late to try to make some extra money for us. I wanted to take you somewhere for our anniversary. "

I take a seat next to him, shock filling my body. I had no idea.

" You're right, I should've called you. That was a dick move. I...I don't know why I didn't. I guess I was just scared I'd be tired and I'll accidentally tell you something? It doesn't fucking matter now. "

" Oh Joel..."

He continues. " I'm sorry about dinner last night. I should've come home. " He finishes, finally setting the shoes down into the small gold box I put them in originally.

I don't say anything. I wrap my arms around the man, sinking my head into the crook of his warm neck. " Yes, you should've called, but I shouldn't have have been so aggressive. My emotions have just been all over the place. " My eyes begin to tear up. I feel a tightness in the back of my throat as I pull away from Joel. " I feel so much angrier than I usually do. "

Joel pulls me back into his embrace. " It's okay, honey. It's the baby. It's okay. " He tries to sooth me. " I love you so much, and I promise, I'm going to cut back my hours. "

" And you're gonna call, right? " I look up at him from my spot against his chest.

" Yes, I swear I'll call from now on. I have to, what if something happens to you and the baby. " He furrows his brows in worry. " I'll call you every hour. I promise. "

I let out a small laugh, wiping a tear away. " I think every few hours is okay, babe. "

" No every half hour. Who knows what could happen. Your office has steep stairs-we should see if the elevator there is fixed yet. " Joel mutters.

" Okay that might be a little overkill. " I crinkle my nose. " How about you just call when you're going to be late. Alright? "

" I can do that. "

#fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfic #the last of us

[astrolynnworld]

movie date

pairings: switch!chris x reader

summary: you and chris are at the movie theater and chris starts to get horny.

warnings: smut, switch chris, fingering, oral, exhibitionism, language, mommy/daddy kink, praise.

a/n: since you guys loved my last sub story with chris i decided to give you guys a best of both worlds 🫡

word count: 1,255

chris holds the door for you as you guys walk into the theater

“after you, princess” he says as he gestures his hand out for me to go first. i laugh at the corniness that is chris sturniolo

nonetheless i walk in first as he trails behind me. we had already bought our tickets online so we just had to go to the employee working at the front desk to confirm our purchase and further allow us entry.

“do you want anything to eat before we go in, bae?” chris asks

“can we share a popcorn please?” i ask back

“i love when you know what i like” he remarks with a smile

after getting our popcorn, we find the theater number for our showing and get comfortable in the first open seats we could find.

as the trailers play, me and chris are having little side conversations about which movies look interesting enough to see for future dates.

we continuously eat our popcorn as the lights dim, signaling that the movie will begin soon.

about 10 minutes into the movie i decided to lift the arm rest up and get comfortable in chris’s lap as we finish the last bits of popcorn

“why does every movie theater have to be freezing?” i ask rhetorically

chris laughs, “here” he says while taking off his sweater to wrap around me while i lay on his lap

i smile as the small romantic gesture.

we continue to watch the movie without a word. although, i do start to shuffle around trying to find a better position where my body wont feel uncomfortable.

soon after, i start to hear chris’s heartbeat pick up.

“are you okay?” i ask the anxious boy

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” he responds

i leave it alone from there.. until i start to feel an growing imprint on my back

chris was getting hard. what from? i don’t know

“chris .. are you hard?” i ask

“im sorry.. i can’t help it when you’re this close to me, i can feel the warmth of your body” he replies.

“do- do you want me to take care of it?” i say while raising up so i can get closer to his face

“but- y/n there’s people around” chris says while anxiously looking around

“come on chris, there’s nobody in our row. nobody will be able to see, all you have to do is just keep quiet.. can you do that for me like a good boy?” i say while rubbing on his hard dick

“hugh.. of course i can miss” chris states while entering his submissive state

i personally love when chris is submissive, he gets so needy and cute. i would do nothing more than to always be the one in charge when it came to chris

“good boy.” i reply, knowing these words are his weak spot

i pull out his dick and start softly touching the tip just to tease him a little. he throws his head back on the chair.

the movie theater was dark but that doesn’t stop me from seeing the red throbbing tip that lies in front of me

“when’s the last time you touched yourself, chris?”

“i don’t touch myself, i wait for you”

now if i wasn’t already turned on by this whole scenario, this sentence would have sent me into a spiral.

i knew the last time we had sex was over 3 days ago, had he really not cum in three days?

“good. i want you to always keep it like that. good boys don’t cum when mommy’s not around”

i felt it throb in my hand.

“awe do you like when i talk to you like this baby?”

“mommy please.” he whines

“please what, baby?”

“please put it in your mouth” he tries to whisper

with this phrase i immediately put as much of him in my mouth as i could.

the speed of my motion caught him off guard so he let out a huff that almost blew our cover.

i put my right hand over his mouth and used my left hand to stroke whatever could not fit in my mouth.

i stroke stroke stroke, spit spit spit, lick lick lick, just being sloppy on his dick cause i knew that’s what he liked the most.

“fuck y/n your mouth is absolutely amazing” he iterated in an exasperated moan

he started to thrust up into my mouth, forcing his cock deeper.

gagging on his dick, i let him continue because i knew he was about to cum

“omg omg omg i’m gonna-“ the boy says before releasing spurts of semen down my throat

“fuck y/n..” he says out in breathy moans

i swallow his semen and give him a kiss to further lay back in my original position

“oh we’re not done” he says after i get back in my spot on his lap

“wha-“ i’m cut short as i feel his hands slide down into my underwear

“you’re so wet baby, is that all from me?”

the code switch drove me insane, how he went from calling me mommy 3 minutes ago to calling me baby in that patronizing tone

“hmm? i need you to speak for me baby” he says while gently rubbing my clit in circles

“fuck chris, yes this is from you.” i say inbetween breaths trying to maintain my volume

“you sound so good when you say my name like that” he says keeping the pace steady

“chris i need you to go faster please” i plead

“beg me princess.” he says in a stern dominant tone

how could a sentence be so hot?

“please chris please go faster, i neeeed to feel you so bad… do your worst to me daddy”

this ignited a new passion in chris, a passion to make you a fuzzy brained mess for his fingers.

“you’re gonna regret saying that, princess”

he uses the wetness of my pussy to slide his fingers on in.

i freeze at the feeling of his fingers going in because immediately after, he starts thrusting his fingers inside of me as a pace uncomprehending

“chri- chris.” i moan quietly while trying to pull away from him

“don’t move princess, don’t you wanna be a good girl?” he says mockingly

i thrust my body up trying to follow the rhythm of his fingers as he pushes and curls his fingers deeper inside of me

“that’s it my pretty girl, feel good for me”

i continue to use my body to push into his fingers, feeling the knot in my stomach start to untie.

he pulls his fingers out and starts fastly circling my clit once again so he can help me reach my climax.

i cover my mouth in pleasure while pushing out the feeling of my orgasm.

“cum for me princess, you’re doing so good” he says as he talks me through it

losing control of my hips i start bucking into his hand while letting out my high.

“you just squirted all over the chair” chris says as i relax my body

“huh?” i have him repeat

“the chair.. look”

the chair next to us was covered in my juices

“oh my god.” i say as a notice the scene

“we need to clean this up” i continue

“after baby, i wanna enjoy you for right now.” chris says

he grabs me back in his lap to cuddle as we finish the movie.

“we’re definitely gonna have to rewatch this movie” i say laughing

“oh yeah for sure” he responds.

————————————————————————

a/n: thank y’all for reading this!! hope you guys enjoyed <33

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #smut #bd/sm switch #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #mommy k!nk #daddy k!nk #writers on tumblr

[wandaslittlelove]

Destined - Part 0

Warnings: Cheating, mentions of death

The rain poured as I stared out the window. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen Wanda and about a month since my sister had sacrificed herself for a stone.

When I came back from the blip it felt like seconds had passed but really it had been five years. In those five years my sister was alone. Grieving my loss. Then when I came back and found out she was gone I was grieving hers. It seemed as if neither of us could ever get a happy ending. 

Being devastated by the loss my immediate thought was Wanda. Was she okay? Where is she? But I knew it all had to wait for after the battle against Thanos. I saw Wanda many times on the battlefield and tried to go to her but each time she would move away from me.

After the battle I sat in front of Tony Stark. The many who had been like another sibling to me for years. He was gone. I held Peter's crying figures in my arms that day as he cried for his mentor. Yet another family member had been taken from both of us.

Tony’s funeral is the last time I’ve seen Wanda. The last time I held her in my arms and the last time I was held in hers. I was told she stole Vision's body and had taken over a town called Westview to create her Perfect family. 

I was devastated at hearing this. First my sister dies, then Tony, and now Wanda has run off with the corpse of a man she had always reassured me she never liked. 

So I moved. I stayed in the compound as I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Natasha's room had become a safe haven along with the gray tabby.. A little gray tabby that enjoyed cuddles. Cinder was her name and she was the one thing that was currently keeping me grounded.

That was until Wanda came bursting through my front door with rain dripping down her body. A Pained expression on her face as she held her side. We both said nothing as I moved to quickly inspect her injury and when I saw it was just a couple of bruised ribs I let out a sigh of relief.

She was the one that talked first. She told me of Westview and how a woman named Agatha Harkness came for her magic and that's how she got the bruises. She told me of her boys, Tommy and Billy, and how they were the perfect kids. I listened silently as my ex Fiance told me all about the fantasy life she had created with a Robot. And I said nothing as she told me that she missed me. Nothing as she told me why she did it. And once again Nothing as she told me of the countless nights she spent with the man I had always been insecure about.

“So I just came to say that it would work out better if you stopped loving me. I’ve done so many things to hurt you. I cheated on you for two years. So please forget me.”

“So I'm not allowed to love you anymore?” I asked with my head turned away from wanda. Ever since Westview was created and she chose vision instead of me we had been arguing non stop.

“That's not what I'm saying!” I look at Wanda with a stone face not wanting to show her how much she's hurting me.

“Really? Because I believe the words ‘it would work out better if you stopped loving me’ mean that.” Wanda looks at me annoyed before she speaks

“I'm just saying it would be easier”

“For who? Me or you” the silence from wanda is all the information I need. With a scoff I pick up my bag before walking to the front door. 

“Knowing that you chose a robot over your fiance really says a lot about you Wanda. You created a whole life with someone you had claimed to barely know while I was grieving the death of my sister. And when it all came crashing down you run back to me. I don't want that. I don't want you. I stopped loving you as soon as you ran into his arms” as i exited the place that had once been my home the tears had finally started to fall. Although they weren't out of sadness.

I was free. Finally free…or that's what I thought 4 months ago. 

Until suddenly Wanda was trying to kill a child for her magic. Until Dr. Strange came to my door asking for help. And Until I found out our destinies would forever be linked.

Taglist: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #dark wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda maximoff x fem reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff x reader smut #mcu wanda maximoff #scarlett witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda x fem reader #wandavision #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda mom #wanda maximoff mom #mom wanda #mcu wanda #wanda mcu #avengers wanda #avengers #wanda avengers #mcu #marvel wanda #wanda marvel #wanda maximoff marvel #natasha romanoff x reader

[thegettingbyp2]

Request: Coriolanus manipulates unpopular girl into marrying him for her parents money. She finds out that he manipulated her years later. Coriolanus actually started to loves her but the damage is done.

So Much More

A/N: I loved writing this and will probably write a part 2 at some point if people are interested!

Buy me a coffee :)

Even though you were considered to be a part of one of the richest families in The Academy, you were wildly unpopular with your classmates, most probably due to the fact you were so quiet and tended to avoid your other classmates whenever possible. This didn’t seem to deter Coriolanus Snow though.

Much to everyone’s surprise, Coriolanus always seemed to either save you a seat or sit next to you in class and talk to you. Much to your own surprise, this ended up with you dating Coriolanus and him bringing you everywhere with him, constantly wanting to show you off. When he proposed to you in front of the Capitol while he was being sworn in as President, it shocked you. Even though you were completely head over heels for him, there was always that niggling thought in the back of your head that he was with you out of pity.

It wasn’t until 2 years after your wedding when you overheard Coriolanus talking to one of his advisors that you really understood why he was with you.

‘Look, the money from (Y/N)’s parents pulled me and my family out of the gutter, I’m not about to throw her away now. Why do you think I asked her out all those years ago in the first place.’ The involuntary gasp that left your lips had Coriolanus’s head whipping around to face you, his eyes wide when he realised that you must have heard what he’d said.

‘That’s really why you asked me out? Why you married me, to get my parents money?’ you asked, wanting more than anything for him to tell you that you’d heard him wrong.

Coriolanus gestured for his advisor to leave the room as he stood up, making his way across to you. ‘(Y/N), you have to understand, when we met, my family were on the verge of losing everything. Your family helped my family to climb back up, we wouldn’t be where we are now without them.’ He tried to take your hands in his, frowning when you pulled away from him.

‘So, you were using me?’ you asked, your voice breaking slightly as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

Coriolanus sighed heavily, running a hand across his face. ‘At first I was. At first, I thought that dating you would be the perfect way to save my family because I could just leave you straight after.’ You couldn’t help but flinch slightly at his words, a movements that didn’t go unnoticed by Coriolanus as he stepped forward, this time, placing his hands on your hips as his nose brushed against your hairline. ‘But then, the longer we were together, the more reasons I’d found to not break up with you because I found myself falling in love with you.’

‘That doesn’t excuse the fact that you were using me, Coryo,’ you whispered brokenly, your hands coming to rest on his that were still on your hips. ‘I was madly in love with you from day one, it took me months to accept the fact that you felt the same way, so finding out that you were lying the whole time - ’

‘I do feel that way now, baby. That’s the point I’m trying to make,’ he interrupted you, his fingers squeezing tighter onto your hips. ‘I was desperate, I would have done pretty much anything to save face. When we were at The Academy, I didn’t think you meant anything, but you mean so much more to me than I ever thought possible.’

As he was speaking, you felt tears pool in your eyes as you were hit by a wave of conflicting emotions, your love for him and the betrayal you were feeling being the main two at war inside you.

‘I just don’t think that I can carry on being married to you, knowing all of this, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore,’ you said quietly, letting your tears fall in streams down your cheeks.

‘Don’t say that,’ Coriolanus said, his voice almost sounding like he was begging as his voice cracked. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, only for you to turn your head at the last minute, his lips grazing your cheek. A single tear traced down his cheek. In all the years you’d known him, you’d never seen him lose his composure like this, even when he was caught out for cheating while he was mentoring Lucy Gray in the 10th Hunger Games. Seeing him like this was making you want to pull him into you and tell him that you loved him and you forgave him, but deep down, you knew that whatever relationship the two of you had was pretty much damaged beyond repair.

‘I should probably go. We can talk more about this when I’ve had time to think,’ you said, trying to free yourself from his grip.

It was as if your words had caused a flip to switch in Coriolanus as you watched his body stiffen and his eyes instantly grow colder. His grip on you tightened even more to an extent that you knew that you were 100% going to have bruises from where his fingers dug into your skin painfully.

‘You’re not going anywhere,’ he said in a cold, almost lifeless tone.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games

[lovewithmary]

(not) moving on — a max verstappen x stark!oc x charles leclerc series

★ fc: madison beer ☆ summary: evangeline "evie" stark is in love with her best friend, max verstappen, but he tries his best to keep her at arm's length. but what happens when she starts to get close to his fellow drivers in the paddock? ★ notes: charles and evie's relationship does seem fast but at the same time this is fiction and i want to get into the good stuff asap

previous next series masterlist

eviestark’s instagram story

"Do you think you're ever going to talk to Max again?"

Evie looked at Charles incredulously and said, "We're on a yacht, isolated from the rest of the world, meaning we can do whatever we want, and you decide you want to talk about Max?"

"Trust me, amor, I intend to do whatever you let me do, but I was just curious," Charles told her, caressing her sides as a way to appease her.

"Isn't it weird for you to ask considering I had feelings for him yet we're... What are we, exactly?" Evie asked.

"I don't think you need to try and cover up the fact that you're still in love with Max, amor, I already know," Charles told her.

"And we're whatever you want to be. However, I'd like to ask you to be my girlfriend one of these days," he added.

Evie looked at him very confused. He was the most confusing person she'd ever met, and one of her uncles was Thor. She'd never felt so exposed ever, and he was someone she met not too long ago. "How are you so okay about all of this? Anyone in your place would've run away screaming by now if they knew," Evie told him.

"Max was and will continue to be a big constant in your life, I can't deny that or pretend it never happened. Yes, you two aren't talking but sooner or later you guys will talk—"

"He has to apologize first," Evie interrupted him, and Charles nodded in agreement and also understanding.

While Evie told Charles the abridged version of what happened on the very day she swore to stop talking to Max, she didn't tell him the exact words Max had said. That was because he was already getting mad at Max and was ready to defend Evie when he had heard the short version, so if she were to tell Charles the full story? All hell will might break loose.

"He apologizes and makes it up to you, then you guys talk again. But, amor, can you honestly say that the minute Max says he wants to be with you, you aren't going to jump at the chance?"

"He could say he would give me everything in the world if it meant being with him and I'd say no," Evie confidently told him, shocking the Ferrari driver.

At the sight of his shocked expression, she explained, "While I can't deny that I still have feelings for Max, I don't think I would be able to be with him, a simple sorry isn't enough for me. He has to grovel. But also, I'd be stupid to not realize what's in front of me,"

"Also, I can get everything in the world by myself. I don't need his help,"

"Did you attend any of Max's karting races when we were all younger?" Charles asked.

"I feel like you like Max more than me," Evie teased, wrapping her arms around Charles' neck while he placed his hands on her waist.

Charles ignored her comment but Evie could tell that he was flustered, as the tip of his ears were red, but she was wise not to comment. "I was just wondering, since you attending the races would've meant that I could've met you and not known at all," he told her.

She hummed, finding herself caressing the back of his head, messing with his hair. "I did attend some of the races, but I was practically attached to Jos whenever I did," she informed him.

Charles wrinkled his nose at the mention of the older Verstappen. "Jos? You had to hang around Jos when we were younger and you're still alive to tell the tale?" He asked in disbelief, remembering how the man was during his and Max's karting days but also when he visits the paddock.

"Jos thought I was going to be a distraction for Max because god forbid he has one friend. But, he kept me around because he knew my dad and also I wasn't that big of a distraction like he thought. So, per my dad's request, he would make sure I didn't get ambushed by crazy fans,"

"Why couldn't your dad go with you?"

"He's Iron Man. And if Iron Man were to go to a karting race when he's only known to go to Formula One races, don't you think that's a bit suspicious? Papa didn't want people who were there for him, he wanted the karting event to be all about the drivers,"

"So there's a small chance I could've met you?"

"Probably, but at the same time, I would've remembered someone if they said inchident," Evie replied, bursting into giggles at seeing Charles' reaction.

"How do you know about the inchident?" He asked, smiling at her giggling.

"Come on, amore, ever since I was seen with you, everyone has been tagging me and I see it on my timeline more than any other post," Evie told him.

"Amore?"

"Well, I figured that since you called me amor, I'll call you amore,"

"I like it,"

"Well, it was either that or Lightning McQueen. And you never like it whenever I say ka-chow," she pouted.

"It's not like I don't mind it when you say ka-chow, but I preferred if you didn't say it after we have sex,"

#f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 x oc #f1 ig au #f1 oc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #(not) moving on #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #f1 imagines #charles leclerc fic #max verstappen smau #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic

[tadpolesonalgae]

Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 9

Pairing: Azriel x third-oldest-Archeron-sister!reader

A/N: Giving something new a try here, absolutely terrifying

Warnings: different povs, (Smidge of angst…I think…?)

Word Count: 5,707

-Part 8- -Part 10-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Silver eyes cut to cocoa. “Why not?”

Elain sighs, attention flicking away to the bookcases lining the walls of their home. Nesta had been the main designer, though bits and pieces are still missing—like the fireplace that will be put into the living room while they’re away, specially designed to contain the crackle and pop of logs as they burst upon the fire. Sure, she could have chosen to have a spell wrap it all up, but she enjoys having time away from magic. That small thread leading back to her old life.

“So many reasons,” she answers quietly, scanning the titles. Fatigue laces her shoulders, hands tucking into her lap, playing with the lilac fabric. “She’s just not… She’s not interested, Nesta.” The sharp eyed female sits in silence, staring blankly into the middle distance. Nails press into the arms of the cushioned chair, spine straightening. “She needs help. You heard her argument with Feyre— Has she at least spoken to you about it?”

Elain sighs again, shaking her head, leaning back into the seat. “No. And I’m not asking.”

Nesta studies Elain from across the room, the light half-circles beneath her eyes. She knows how Eris has been visiting the trio in the lower lands—how it strains on her mate, passing onto her. Part of her doesn’t want to push Elain further, noting the distance in her normally bright eyes, but she remembers her own silence. The pressure building in her head, on the cusp of shattering. What a mess she’d been.

“You’re the only one she talks to, Elain,” she says, hands lowering to her lap. “You saw how she shut us out over dinner. If anyone can revive her, it’s going to be you.”

“I know,” she snaps abruptly, eyes cracking open. Shifts in her seat, sitting upright, brining her feet up onto the cushions, tucking up neatly. Exhales heavily. “I know,” she repeats, softer this time, “but I’ve been trying, and she just doesn’t want to do anything. Pushing her won’t work, she’ll just retreat further.”

The two sit in silence, sun streaming in through the large windows, pooling in a golden square of heat upon the carpet. Outside, the roses sway in the breeze, climbing up the sides of the paprika-red bricks.

“And what about Bas?” Nesta asks, quietly.

“What about him?” She answers, still peering up at the bookcase. How many have already been read? “She’s close with him,” Nesta says, “maybe she’s said something to him.”

“How would you have felt if Amren spoke to us?” She asks pointedly, but quietly. “I’ve wanted to ask—either of them—but that’s not the right way to do this. She already keeps her distance from you. Trying to find an in through Bas would just push her further,” Elain argues. “Plus it’s an invasion of privacy,” she murmurs, an afterthought.

“Then what do you suggest,” Nesta asks, silver eyes piercing. “That we just let things continue? She already practically estranged from us.”

“She needs time,” Elain says quietly. “Just give her space. That’s all she wants at the moment.”

“That’s all we’ve been doing, and it’s not working. She hardly even comes to dinners anymore. The last time I saw her was over a months ago—a month,” Nesta mutters softly. Brows pull together, conflict marring her sharp features. “Az says she barely leaves her room up in the House.”

“But that’s where she wants to be, Nesta.”

The silver eyed female shakes her head. “I wanted to be left alone too,” she murmurs, hands tightening. “Maybe she likes being alone up there, but it’s not good. And don’t say she can manage on her own—I know you heard her argument with Feyre.” Nesta shifts in her seat, eyes lowering to the pool of sunshine on the carpet, splitting them apart. “That’s not dealing with anything. She’s just pushing it away.”

“You don’t know that for certain,” Elain says quietly, not meeting her eyes.

“I know what I heard, and I know how I felt. It’s the same thing, she’s just quieter,” Nesta responds. “She always has been.” Elain shifts again, eyes joining Nesta’s in peering at the dazzling pool of sunlight—reflecting off the carpet, illuminating the room with a warm-orange glow.

“You’re suggesting forcing her into a place of discomfort,” Elain says at last. Inhales deeply, then blows it out, raising her fingers to her brow, rubbing lightly. “I needed time and space, too,” she says, almost a whisper. “I needed to be on my own. To have my independence returned. I needed the quiet to recover from the Cauldron.” Hands drag over her face, cool tips of her digits cover her eyes, soothing the ache at the back of her mind—not enough sleep.

Shifts again, straightening, hands returning to her lap. “While you needed someone to reach out.”

“We’ve given her time, and space,” Nesta argues. “Most of the time she has the whole House to herself. None of us bother her up there; she can come and go as she wants. And nothing’s changing.” Elain remains quiet, peering distantly at the carpet, the colour of fox’s fur. Drags her attention away. “If she won’t change, something else needs to,” Nesta says, voice softening again. “It’s not right,” she breathes, “we’re sisters. We grew up together, slept in the same bed, went through the same sufferings. We shouldn’t fall apart now.” Her voice is heavy, tired and worried. Not how she wants to be the day of her departure.

“Why not now?” Elain asks quietly. Silver raises to cocoa, brow raised in question. “I think now makes sense,” she says softly. “There’s no longer a reason for us to stay together.”

“What are you talking about? We’re family, that’s reason enough,” Nesta mutters. Elain shakes her head. “Think about it,” she insists. “Growing up there was nowhere else to go. There was no choice—we’d do what had to be done to live. You were going to marry Tomas, I would marry Graysen, and Feyre would continue looking after father,” she says heavily. “Then Feyre was taken, and eventually so were we. Then came the Cauldron. Then the war hit. Then Briallyn messed things up.”

Elain sighs heavily, closing her eyes for a moment. “We were finally in a spot of peace, and now there’s” —she gestures to Nesta in her state of departure— “this to deal with.” The silver eyed female stiffens, hands shifting in her lap. “For her, there’s no reason to stick together anymore. It’s over, it’s behind us. We don’t need to keep it together.” She swallows, eyes locking with her sister’s, “she’s free to let go.”

Nesta shakes her head, gaze moving to the window. Cassian will be pestering her to get a move on soon—they were supposed to leave an hour ago, but she wanted to wait. “So you don’t want to speak with her, Bas is out of the question, and getting her away from the House is wrong,” she states flatly. “What about Az?”

Elain stiffens for a moment, inhales, then relaxes.

“That’s the worst idea yet,” she sighs, smiling despite herself. “She’s out with Mor today anyway. Let’s just see how that goes.” Nesta turns away, sharp eyes flitting to the clock atop the mantel piece. “Fine. But things need to change.”

————

She’s been leaving her room less and less, coiling tighter and tighter in recent days.

He’s certain that’s entirely to do with the agreement they had come to almost a week ago.

The scent of gardenias flourishes in her wake, touched to the handles of mugs and the hilts of cutlery. She’s even taken to wearing gloves when she deigns to seek food, scurrying through the hallways on what she must think are quiet feet. It seems even the House is reluctant to encourage her reclusive behaviour. Quiet pitter-pats softly padding down hallways, cotton socks tip-toeing along floorboards, fabric fluttering as she whispers between walls.

He’s begun noticing unusual crooks in cutlery—subtly misshapen around the necks of the metal. Often accompanied by a dull warmth, like soft skin fresh from the sun, steadily cooling in dappled shade. Plates are usually clean: washed, dried and returned to the cupboards after use. Very few things are ever out of place once she’s made her bi-daily trips to the kitchen, as if limiting her marks on the space. Keeping her distance, even in the background.

Her sleeping pattern is sufficient for the most part, only occasionally is there no light coming from beneath her door by the time midday strikes. With the days becoming shorter, candlelight frequently flickers in the hallway once night has descended, generally winking out before midnight, though that’s also subject to change.

Why does he always get tasked with chaperoning?

Azriel nods his silent thanks to the House, a hot meal delivered to his desk, pointedly placed atop the book he’s been meaning to read. A habit that had initially been formed three centuries ago—close enough, anyway. Sleep is a rare delight, a luxury he’s rightly denied, often allowing him time to complete more reports, file new orders, map out future movements.

The book had been purchased with these long nights in mind, intended to help relieve the immense stress of managing his work, now manifesting as strain across his wings and back, often finding the trapezius aching, on the verge of cramping up. Supposedly, he would find himself restless, then turn to the novel for comfort, yet it would do nothing to assuage the guilt of not working. He needs to work to protect. He doesn’t need rest as long as he eats well and keeps up with training, pushing himself to the limit in every aspect of his life.

However, despite the self-indulgent purchase, completing these tasks; writing up reports sets him at ease. So long as everything is kept in order and regularly maintained, the fewer cold nights he’ll put himself through. He works to prevent events from tipping into unstoppable motion, to prevent opposing players being caught, finding themselves at the wrong end of his blade.

Those nights are bottomless. Spirals that have no pit, that he doesn’t always manage to escape in time.

There’s one kept away from the light now, slowly dying in the darkness he was born from. A sickness creeping into bones, softening minds to outer incisions. Plying apart willpower with contemptible cruelty.

Stares across at the pile of reports, paper bowing beneath the accumulating weight. Reaches for the first one, pen in hand, poised to take note of any changes mentioned. Steadily working his way through the pile, day draining to dusk, draining to night. Shadows swish and swirl, aimlessly flickering, freely crawling and creeping across the floor in search of things to report on. Catch the faint thumps of soft feet upon floorboards, pouncing on the sound.

Skitter beneath the doorframe, lurking at the threshold as the female figure approaches on pointed toes, tip-tapping over wooden boards, gliding past. Darkness observes dutifully, grabbing at details: lidded eyes, stray hairs loose, rectangular bags hanging regretfully from her forearms—handles biting into soft flesh. Watch as she passes, skirts swishing against brown paper with each step. Not fully present.

She passes by, keeping to the other side of the hall, giving the door an unnecessarily wide berth. Shadowed gaze strains ahead, tilted down to place her steps correctly, heading for her own chambers. Continues along, darkness stalking her steps, making sure she passes before moving to return to their keeper. Observe as she comes to a stop before a chest of drawers, bathed in moonlight. Atop is a large mirror, the frame intricately detailed. The surface is littered with little things: blown-out candles, burnt down incense, stray jewellery, a few lone arrowheads—probably misplaced.

Eyes wonder between the bits and bobs, attention not fully there, forearms marginally lower with the weight of result of her gifts. He keeps them from sneaking inside, discovering the contents. Notes as her gaze lingers on the candles, picking out their reflection in her eyes, moonlight contained within clear glass. Flick up to the mirror, shoulders sloping with fatigue, lips pursing.

Nib scratches across paper as he copies a sentence down, setting the parchment to the side, shadows already having slid the next one to his desk. Still-full plate pushed closer to the centre of his desk, encouraging him to eat. Seven more, he thinks, eyeing the steep stack of reports. Seven more, then I can eat.

Arms shift, evening out the weight of the bags. Relieving pressure from indented flesh as her eyes dart away at last, finished analysing. Skate over the metalwork of the frame, flora sculpted to each corner, in bloom. Rise higher, tracing the pristine blade mounted atop the mirror. Looking how her younger sister does at scenes she likes, the urge to put them onto a canvas itching at her fingertips.

Muscle snaps tight, a flinch zapping against her skin as feet stutter in their stillness. A faint green light sparks from beneath the gloves, teeth sharply clamping together, like the clink of porcelain.

Silence settles, limbs held taut as moments pass. Counting down, plummeting. Arm shifts slightly, then handles snap, the edges of the paper singed. Heart kicks up, lips parting in a choked inhale, lids widening marginally. Bags hit the floor, thudding dully as she winces, cottoned foot stuck out to muffle the sound, teeth clasping her lower lip.

Breathing quickens, shallowing as she hastily fans off her hands, as if cooling the skin before dipping down. Carefully scoops the bags back up into her arms, shoes pulled to her chest as she scuttles away to her own room, not sparing a look back. The smell of sweetened gardenias wafts in her wake, mixing with something smokey—like singed paper.

Pen pauses its movement, nostrils flaring delicately, throat rolling.

Shadows recede from the hallway, coast now clear.

Seconds tick by, before ink is scratched into parchment, resuming his task. A few more, he promises. A few more, then I can eat.

But minutes later, a few having passed, and the next report lies upon his desk, hazel eyes scanning the concise letters. Food untouched.

————

Midday hits, and you’re fidgeting outside the door, hand raised for the handle.

It turns before you get a chance to twist it, harshly stepping back, making room as it swings open.

Silky, golden hair gleams beneath the sunshine, a dazzling smile already in place as warm eyes latch to your own. Something stabs across your chest, and you have to ease a deep breath into your lungs, feigning surprise. “Gosh,” you murmur, a little breathlessly, “you startled me.”

Soft, pillowy lips widen in an even brighter smile, cheeks rounding with laughter as apologies ring from her mouth. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here already,” she smiles, opening the door wider as she steps out. “Hardly anyone in this family is ready on time,” she mutters playfully, as if exchanging a secret. You flush at the murmured tone, the look of playfulness, as if part of an inside joke shared between the two of you. Lips part in a helpless smile, a little shaky around the edges as nervousness burns your throat.

The door clicks shut, and she’s briskly walking down the steps, arm already linked below your own. The pale yellow dress floats about her ankles, heels the colour of golden straw lacing up her feet, the tea-coloured shawl prettily wrapped over deceptively slim arms. She waltzes over the cobbles as if it’s flat ground, the points of her shoes moving as she wills, dodging the dips and cracks as she pulls your with her.

“Is there anywhere you want you visit first?” She asks, steering you down the street, taking a right at the bottom of the front lawn, the sidra peeking between earth-toned buildings. Swallow thickly, finding your voice. “Not really…” you answer—you should have planned this in advance. Why hadn’t that crossed your mind? Clear your throat as you walk together, side by side. “We’re doing this together, right?” You manage, feeling as though your feet are slamming into the cobbles, stumbling over your shoes.

Honey-warm eyes flit to you, sparking with life. “What do you mean by that?” Avert your gaze from her gleaming features, the smooth skin and the perfectly plump lips. “It’s not just… You’re going to be getting things too, right?”

Her smile doesn’t falter for a second. “If that’s what you want, then I’m sure I can find something to spend money on,” she laughs, squeezing your arm lightly in a surprisingly familiar gesture. You manage a tight smile, one you hope looks regular. You’d settle for believable. She laughs again, attention returning to swiftly scanning shop windows, flitting about each front, effortlessly making her way through the street. “We’ll tell Amren it took more convincing than that, won’t we?” She says, again in that intimately secret tone you’re having trouble understanding.

“Amren?” You ask, confused. There was no mention of Amren joining this trip over the dinner. Stomach plumes with anxiety. Would it be too obvious to feign a stomach ache? Mor doesn’t seem the least bit perturbed by your bewilderment. “We had a bet, of sorts. She bet that I’d end up coming home with at least three bags of clothing,” she elaborates. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” Manage a stiff nod, scrambling to keep up with the conversation, thrown off by the brightness of the sky, how crisp the wind is, how noisy background chatter can be.

“Right,” you say in response.

“Wrong,” Mor corrects, making your skin flush with embarrassment. “I have never once managed. Any less than five and something’s gone wrong.” She smiles at you, then her attention flicks over your head. “What about that one?” She asks, nodding to a store. Turn to peer at the shop fronts—none of them containing books. Throat rolls, scanning again. “Which…one?”

Mor only laughs, already dragging you toward an open door. “Come on, it’ll be fun, I promise,” she smiles. “Besides, you said you wanted me to do some shopping too, right?” Reluctantly nod your head, because yes, you had said that.

Ease a heavy breath, stepping into the large store, filled with clothing, the aisles thankfully wide enough to accommodate multiple bodies without becoming packed.

Beginning the long day.

————

“What about this?” Mor asks pulling out pale yellow dress, a few shades darker than her own. Clear your throat, nodding, “looks nice.” Her eyes sparkle, pushing it onto your hands, “go try it on then!” You blink, peering down at the dress that’s been pushed into your gloved hands. Quickly shake your head, trying to push it back to her. “I thought you meant for yourself,” you hastily clarify.

Rosey lips lift into a charming smile, “I’ve got way too many in yellow and gold. Besides, you said it looks nice, right?”

“Well, yes…”

“Then try it on!” She encourages, nodding toward the changing rooms. But you shake your head, “it’s autumn already, I wouldn’t be able to wear something like this until next summer.”

“Perfect! We can look for a jumper— or cardigan,” she corrects, noting the cozy wooden piece you’ve wrapped yourself in. Already her eyes are scanning the racks for something complimentary.

Shake your head, “really, it’s fine. I have enough.”

Her hands still from sorting through the hangers, fingers pausing, before settling on the wooden pole. “You know you can get things that you want now, right?” She asks gently, gaze resting on the rack. Lick your lips as apprehension builds in your shoulders. “I know I can,” you reply slowly, “I just— I don’t— want anything.” She looks at you then, and you swear you catch something flicking through her gaze, but it’s gone too quickly for you to be sure.

A beat of silence passes, tension coiling your stomach, muscles contracting.

“Okay,” she says at last, softer than before. “It’s not for everyone, I suppose.” Warm-honey eyes flick down to the dress still clutched in your hands, “would you at least try it on? To see what it feels like?” Your lips purse, hesitant to do something so deeply indulgent, but… She’s compromising here. You should respect that. Throat rolls, nodding, “okay.”

The edges of her mouth soften into something that’s not quite a smile, but it’s reassuring. “You’ll look great,” she says, “I’m sure of it.”

————

A few hours have passed, food eaten, Mor trying on clothes here and there. At least ten different items from each shop, and you’re relieved. Relaxed enough that she’s managed to coax you into trying on a few other things here and there. Nothing that would even compare to some of the clothes you’ve seen the others in, but it’s a start. Nothing you would have cared even think about a few years ago. It still makes you a little sick to think of the steep gap in wealth.

What would have happened if Feyre hadn’t killed that wolf?

You’d probably still be there now, dreading the onset of icy winter, the early morning bite of cold that would seep beneath the thin blanket. The dirt and grime beneath nails, skin tacky with dried sweat, hair smelly and matted.

Swallow thickly, moving your gaze around the large shop—another clothing store. Locate Mor in the far corner, having wondered off of your own volition to peer at a pair of earrings, deep blue set in silver. Thumb the empty slots on your ear absently—it would be nice to have some jewellery. Something thin and elegant, not too chunky, but subtle and dainty. Run the pads of your fingers over the cool glass of the pendant at your neck, feeling the reassuring weight.

“See something you like?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, releasing a surprised sound as you snap your attention to the side, Mor having snuck up on silent feet to peer over your shoulder. Inhale deeply, pressing a hand over your chest, feeling the rapid flutter of your heart as you attempt to even out your breaths. Manage to shake you head, “just looking.” Her eyes catch on something, pointing through the glass case, “what about that?” Turn to see what she’s talking about. “The rings?” You ask.

Goodness, rings would be lovely. You’ve see the ones Feyre sometimes wears—silver with slices of gem encrusted along the surface. The ones Rhys sometimes wears—flat, thick bands of sterling, a single one carved into a feather, wrapped around his fifth finger. Then the ones Mor wears, shifting between different metals depending on her mood—todays she’s feeling golden.

“Look at that one,” she gushes, pointing at the band containing a small ruby, polished to perfection. A smile creeps onto your lips of its own accord. “That’s very you,” you say, a hint of a laugh surprising both of you. She nudges you playfully, “I’m more than just red and gold, you know.” Lips part in a more open smile, corners quirking as you hum back, “of course, my mistake. Too few jewels for your taste.”

Mor blinks for a moment, a beat passing, then a ringing laugh spills from her rosey lips, eyes closing for a second to conceal her surprise. Palm coming over her mouth in attempts to muffle the joyous sound. Dip your head in slight embarrassment, a shy smile playing on your mouth as she tries to recompose herself.

“What were you looking at?” She asks once she’s pulled herself back together, golden hair silkily cascading over her shawl as she runs her fingers through the soft mass, sending it spilling in new directions. You shrug, hastily averting your eyes again, head dipping away. “Nothing in particular.”

Mor hums, laughter still bright on her features. Her hand suddenly clasps your forearm, making you tense. “What about that?” She asks, sounding somewhat breathless. Raise your gaze to follow her direction, spotting the dress that’s hung at the end of a pole. “It’s perfect for you,” she says, excited, already pulling you gently toward it. Reluctantly, you follow.

You can tell why she thinks you’ll like it. In terms of practicality, it seems to be excellent, the dress made of a creamy-cocoa coloured wool, looking like it would be soft against your skin. The neckline itself is a gentle v, the curve not too steep, an elegant suggestion instead of blatant showcasing. Both the sleeves and the skirt of the dress are modest, looking like you’d be able to tuck your hands beneath the wool should you become too cold, the hem of the dress nearing the floor.

For the first time that day, you allow Mor to push the dress into your gloved hands, allow her to convince you to try it on, even to convince you it looks nice over your shape. The wool is as soft as it looks, almost sending you to sleep from the warm brush, soothing as it contains your heat, like being swaddled in feather-soft cotton. It’s a little close-fitting around your ribs and stomach, pressing comfortably but not tight—a little too revealing, but it can be hidden by a cardigan or cloak. Spin in a small circle, watching as the skirts flare at your ankles, then falling back against your legs, cosy and soft.

“You look lovely,” Mor says from your side, and you turn to face her, a helpless smile lifting the edges of your mouth. This is something you wouldn’t mind having. It’s warm and practical, comfortable without compromising appearance. There are no intricate details, no sequins or jewels to make it particularly astonishing, just simple and plain. Absolutely perfect.

“Do you want it?” She asks quietly, having moved closer. Throat rolls, gloved fingers running over the wool—how lovely it would be to feel it properly. You do want it, but… “Let me get it,” she says, hand lightly clasping your wrist, turning you toward her. Eyes flick down at the warm wool, taking in its soothing comfort. The redirection is on your tongue, prepared to deny yourself further. “That’s what this whole trip is for,” she reminds, tone quiet. “You like it, don’t you?” She asks, and discomfort squirms beneath your skin—you can’t lie to her.

Her lips part into a wide smile, hands pressing together. “That’s great,” she reassures, “let me get it for you. As a belated present.” Eyes dip lower, pressing into the floorboard, brows tightening ever so slightly. This isn’t something you need…

You can’t quite bring yourself to look at her as your head dips. “Okay…”

You feel more than see the air shift, brightening as she eases a breath out, smile widening into sunshine. “Perfect!” She signs, “I was beginning to doubt we’d find anything.” You manage a tight smile, still unable to go fully look at her, but—it’s going to be yours. How long has it been since you’d been in a situation where you were allowed to pick something you liked, instead of a hand-me-down?

Naturally almost an entire new wardrobe had been offered upon your initial transportation here, but those were plain in a different way. The idea of having a cupboard full of clothes explicitly for yourself seems wildly indulgent, bordering on selfish. What could one person possibly need so many clothes for? Yet the way the wool sits soft against your skin has you beginning to understand the want, why it’s so important to some people. Throat rolls, touching gloved hands to your waist, feeling the wrap of warmth around your skin. “Thank you.”

A weight settles in your chest, but you can’t quite bring yourself to regret the purchase.

————

After being taken from shop to shop, you’d finally reached one of the many bookstores in Velaris—the point your discipline had taken a heavy hit.

Peer down at the brown paper bag on your arm, one of three. The first containing the dress, the second containing a comfy pair of slippers Mor had managed to convince you to allow her to buy—there had been an ochre yellow jumper too, that you’d had to beg her not to buy because you’d caught sight of the price tag. And this third bag, containing two new books. You’d taken your time deciding on them—books don’t last you very long, generally being finished anywhere between a few hours and a week depending on your interest.

Darkness has fallen thanks to the days becoming shorter, a wave of fatigue washing through your mind as you glance out through the windows, peering down at Velaris, lit by dotted faelights—appearing as little, bright stars spotted amongst inky blackness.

Shoes are held in your arm, not wanting to tread dirt into the floors, the three bags weighing on your forearm as you behind quietly making your way to your room. You don’t know who else is about, and while the days hadn’t been as straining as you had anticipated, any more interaction threatens to send you spiralling.

Cotton socks tread lightly as you make your way through the halls, trying to keep from kneeing any of the bags in case it disturbs someone.

The corridors seems darker than usual, something ineffable about his presence affecting the surrounding area as you raise to the points of your toes, keeping volume to a minimum. Heart picks up as you keep to the left of the hallway, creeping at the edges like an unwanted creature, keeping to the darkness in fear of being caught and squashed. Keep your gaze on the floor as you try to move past as quietly as possible, peering along to the end of the corridor, a single wide window illuminating the floor. Moonlight spills through it, pooling on the wooden boards, reflecting onto the short set of drawers pushed against the wall.

You pass by his door as quietly as possible, hardly breathing until you reach the piece of furniture. Peer at the small trinkets scattered across its top, momentarily distracted. Some stray jewellery glints against the wood, little tea lights and incense sticks, a few arrowheads that have been discarded. It’s unnervingly simple to find various little weapons lying around, short daggers accidentally thrown in with cutlery, or things like arrowheads that have seemingly been forgotten this far into the House.

Eyes inadvertently lift to the large mirror, locking with your reflection. Something shifts just out of your vision, but you remain latched on. Stare at your hair, the set of your mouth in relation to your eyes, the corners aligning with your pupils. Look lower, shifting over collar bones and tense— You relax your shoulders, untighten your jaw, releasing the lines of tension that have been carved into your body.

Stare at your mouth again, tempted to raise the pads of your fingers to skate across the skin—test to see if they’re as pillowy as Mor’s appeared. Throat rolls, pressing down on the urge. Why bother comparing yourself like that.

Gaze breaks from the mirror, shoulders sloping further. The day was fun. Fun.

She’s enjoyable to be around. Almost enough for you to want another day. She knows how to speak to people, how to set them at ease. Brows tighten as you recall her smile, dazzling like sunshine, practically spelling you into response. Once again peer at the downward tilt of your mouth. Who would want to kiss such a sad looking mouth?

Look away before your thoughts go any further.

Lift up, settling on the mounted blade. Moonlight grins along its edge, hanging tauntingly overhead. Like a guillotine poised to snick down on your reflection. Throat rolls, the point of the steel twinkling like starlight, tongue flicks out to wet your lower lip.

Mindlessly wander how sharp it is, if there’s some tale behind it—maybe an heirloom. Either way, it must be special, to be put on display like that.

Again trace the smile of the curved blade, following the gleaming edge of steel.

(Would its slice would be faster than pain?)

Pain splinters up your knuckles, breath catching int your throat as fingertips burn. Jaw clamps, muscle locking as violent aches cramp your palms, lacing beneath the sleeves of your dress.

Keep still, eyes squeezing shut as you ease breaths into your lungs. The pain subsides to a dull itch, and you move to turn. Nostrils flare at the smell of smoke, eyes flicking down as the handles of the bags snap, singed and burnt away. Heart picks up at the books plummet to the floor, ready to thud intrusively on the boards, crack through the silence. Socked-foot sticks out before you can think, just needing to muffle the sound before it hits.

Teeth sink into your lower lip as one of the corners hits the bridge of your foot, undoubtedly going to bruise later, but you keep the noise of pain to a minimum. Heart pounds in the silence, and you’re swiftly ducking down to scoop the bags into your arms. Humiliation burns in your throat, shame twisting in your gut. If you had been less greedy…less hoggish… So stupid.

The gifts weigh in your arms like burning coals, clutched to tightly, desperately, as you scurry away down the hall. Crawling away into the distance.

————

Unscrew the pot of hand cream as soon as you’ve finished shoving the bags into the dust beneath your bed, pushed as far back as possible.

Peel back gloves, their tips singed open, already dipping your fingers into the cooling balm.

The sickening smell of gardenias floats up to you, skin burning as you rub the cream in, stinging from the aftermath. Fleetingly peer at the blank paper atop your desk, taunting but unadded to.

Feel control slipping out from under you, like the world is moving without you. Just a few steps behind. Heart picks up, a light, panicky feeling setting in. Fingertips crackle, glowing bright and tears slip out, teeth biting into the raw pain of your lip.

Swallowing down a single choked cry.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

CBMTHY Taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #azriel acotar #azriel angst #CBMTHY #multi part fic

[st-hedge]

I said a while ago that for totk’s one anniversary I would write a weird little review of the game in which I throw roses at it while simultaneously slandering it. So I made an attempt which is very abbreviated

Disclaimer: I’m not telling u how u should feel about totk or what’s the right way to feel about it, I’m just trying to make sense of why the game frustrates me and putting it into words. It’s completely fine if u disagree with me, I’m not pitching an argument but just putting words on paper

Totk is one of the best games I’ve ever had the opportunity to play. The mechanics, the music, the designs, the revised world of hyrule, makes me want to curl up on the floor and cry. It is stunning and done with so much love. Where botw had lacked, totk has improved and gone above and beyond. It had frustrated me that botw only allowed us to explore the ground surface, but botw was an exploration into open world games which allowed for totk to happen. The caves, the boats, the islands, and the depths add so much to already such a vast world. I only wish there was also diving but beggars can’t be choosers beh

Although it still doesn’t make too much sense to me why all weapons are suddenly corrupted, I do love the new weapons system. I love how it gives more variety to explore. Materials which previously sat unused in the inventory are now key and nothing feels like a waste to collect. Even rupees have found another use. I’m not the biggest fan of the zonai devices but the addition feels like a love letter to the creativity of the fan base and it feels at place. They help to traverse an otherwise huge and intimidating world. But at times I feel like they give too much leverage and break down too many boundaries and leave little to solve and explore. What im basically saying is fuck the rockets.

I feel that totk doesn’t have enough progress boundaries that make u pause and explore what u have at hand. I found myself just pushing and pushing, forgetting and leaving behind areas I barely touched. It felt too easy getting into the sky and returning to the islands and they lost some of their mystery to me. I think this would have been a great opportunity to reintroduce the loftwings from skyward sword. I’ve talked before about how much this would make sense for totk. The loftwings could be a means to cross boundaries and explore new territories, but it takes time to catch and tame one as a companion. But like horses they should have their limits, presenting new boundaries u need to overcome again

Where the totk’s hyrule begins to confuse and disappoint me goes hand in hand with my main issue (confusion?) with the game. Although botw felt incomplete (the world was a little sparse and one dimensional), the story was comprehensive and clear. Meanwhile, totk has a complete and lively world but it doesn’t have a story to carry

Totk’s story doesn’t have an identity I can grasp and understand. It’s like it doesn’t know what it wants to tell the player, what story it wants to direct them to. On one hand, it seems to want us to know about the origins of hyrule and the mysterious landmarks and characters that are permanent fixtures in this world (castle, ruins, dragons) but at the same time it suddenly wants to do a retelling of OoT and about the sages and these secret stones. But the game never completes any of these stories. Maybe it wants to tell us these stories through the environment, but there is just not enough embedded into the world to grasp and tie together into a narrative. Which is ironic considering how big the world is

We begin to be told the story of the dragons, we suddenly understand how they came to be (the secret stones). But we are never told about the events of their creation (an act of desperation, like Zelda’s) and we are never close to understanding them. Then we are told about the sages, but meeting them tells us nothing new. No new cutscenes, no new items or lore directly related to them. The new sages are found, but didn’t we just discover the divine beasts with them? Suddenly another layer of importance is added to them which makes the ties between legacy and the current sages muddier. I wish there had been focus on them creating their own legacy instead

I think totk could’ve had a very interesting story to tell if it chose what it wants to focus on. Maybe the secret stones were introduced just as a way for Zelda to become a dragon? I dunno

There are so many new places that feel like fantastic opportunities for moments of pause and to uncover lore, unearth memories. But instead they’re brisk puzzles or empty sites. Like the graveyard underneath the desert, the forge islands, the factories, and the fucking poe statues. Tell me as much as u want that I can’t read environmental story telling, but I’ll just keep saying there’s nothing to read into cuz the game doesn’t know what it wants to say. There’s no thread to follow in the way there was with, for example, the graveyard at the spirit temple in OoT. We could’ve been just left with a strange well and a graveyard and told to figure it out, but a thread is laid down that these are the skeletons in the royal family’s closet.

Totk does have amazing moments, like Zelda meeting her ancestors and giving up her identity to become a living legend to revive the master sword, the discovery of the ancient temples, the story of the zonai and their origins. But these are just pieces with many loose ends around them that go nowhere. Even Ganon is left as a loose end where there was so much opportunity to say something worth saying. He seems comically evil with bogstandard bah I want to rule the world lines. If u want to make a case for evil for the sake of evil, u can at least show me a character repeatedly making horrible choices which lead them to the current predicament. Just like totk’s hyrule, he is lovingly designed but he tells absolutely no story

If the reason behind the lack of story is that the devs/writers wanted us to make our own story out of this, then I think this is a case where it was a poor choice. The fans can make theories, hcs, pick up pieces and make AUs, but we also love the stories told by the games and it’s what inspires us to uncover more stories (hey wanna talk about tp and why we hear Malon’s song at night, or what’s up with the empty desert)

I’d love to see totk from the perspective of someone who had never played or known botw. Did it really help to remove any traces of sheikah tech besides the labs and the guardian limbs in the towers. Although the zonai devices and the sheikah tech are from different time periods, totk was a perfect opportunity to marry the two elements together. The shrines and the divine beasts could’ve collapsed into the depths, but instead they have just vanished like erased history

Totk’s story doesn’t have an identity in the same way botw’s does. Even though botw’s hyrule was much smaller and emptier, we found stories there cuz we knew what that game was trying to tell us. If totk is about making sacrifices, then this message feels obsolete by the end. U should make sacrifices, but u will only be happy again if it all goes back to exactly how it was before

As happy and sweet the ending is, it made all the worry and sadness I felt seem pointless cuz of course everything would reset back to the norm cuz how else would this game have a happy ending. What was there to worry about. Yeah so what that Zelda became a dragon losing herself, she was just asleep the entire time and effortlessly she becomes her normal self. So what that link lost his sword arm, of course he would miraculously get it back even though it took him 100 years to recover from a mortal wound. No trace of the things they withstood and lost, no mark, nothing.

I loved the final battle and spectacle of the dragons struggling against each other in the sky. The battle went from the deepest depths to the highest reaches of the sky and I thought it was perfect. But once again how the story concluded and the logic behind it me made me feel like I was chewing on sand and the idyllic ending just made me look about in confusion

TLDR; totk is an amazing game with a stunning world that lacks a comprehensive story to tell

I hoped that I would get a better understanding why I’m so frustrated by totk, but instead I just feel even more confused by it and I think that’s just how I’ll have to leave it

#I disabled rebolgs so this doesn’t leave the target audience #I became progressively drunk as I wrote this