imaginedreamwrite
imaginedreamwrite
Imagine, Dream, Write
Welcome - My masterlist is pinned to the top of my page. Drabble requests are open and are being worked on slowly. Anon hate messages aren’t even read, but deleted immediately
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imaginedreamwrite · an hour ago
I've been following your stories for a while and I realize that you suffer from terrible reviews, but it's my first time writing here, don't worry about the reviews, your writing is wonderful and just one spelling doesn't affect the writer you are!It happens to the best! ps: I love your fanfic's, my favorite is Invisible String, won my heart with Ari!Soulmate ! kisses 😘💕
Thank you so much! You’re so sweet!
I love Invisible String Ari and his girl
They’re so good together
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 hours ago
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Drabbles I’m working on
Face sitting + alpha!Bucky + plus sized omega
“What did you just say to me?” You alpha growled, but not in displeasure or anger, but in disbelief.
“Don’t make me repeat it-“
“Oh little omega,” the rumble in his chest made your knees weak, “you have no idea how much fun we’re gonna have when I’m feasting on my dripping pussy and you are riding my face.”
“Bucky-“ he pressed his finger to your lips and snaked his arm around your waist.
“No more protests, mega.” He grinned like the devil. “You get your fine ass upstairs and onto the bed while I jam the door shut.”
beta!jake + omega!reader + face sitting
“You want me to what?” You couldn’t have heard him right. You couldn’t have possibly heard the words ‘ride my face’ coming from your geeky, adorable mate.
“I want you to drown me in your pussy.”
“Jake!” You squealed, jumping when he smacked your ass and dragged you closer to him.
“Save it for the bedroom, babe.” He grinned and ground himself against you. “I don’t want you to lose your voice before I have a chance to engorge myself on your sweet little cunt.”
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imaginedreamwrite · 2 hours ago
You are an amazing writer! Don't listen to that asshole! They're just jealous because you can actually use grammar..
Well sometimes I can use grammar
English is hard though
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imaginedreamwrite · 3 hours ago
Ok but what’s with all the spelling mistakes?? I am so sorry that you’re getting hate and if I ever got messages like that I’d laugh and wouldn’t be able to take them seriously just for the spelling alone so I hope you aren’t because you are amazing!!!! So don’t listen to them! (And that is an order from the writing fairies, they asked me to pass along the message they don’t have tumblr☺️)
Honestly I have no idea what their problem is
Or why their spelling is so bad
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Fairy love appreciated ❤️
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imaginedreamwrite · 3 hours ago
The only thing I can think to say is it’s a sign of greatness to get haters?
Those that can - do, those that want to - try, those that can’t - enjoy the works of those who can and want to, those that are jealous - spew hate.
You’re amazing - keep writing!
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imaginedreamwrite · 3 hours ago
anon should worry about their grammar before talking nonsense
you're an amazing writer and I can assure you you're loved by many many people, don't let someone insignificant like that anon make you feel bad about yourself <3
Thank you very much ❤️ I really appreciate it
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imaginedreamwrite · 4 hours ago
I might turn off anon for a bit- your writing is amazing and you don't deserve that <3
I might have to
But there’s so many good anons that I don’t want to screw them over
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imaginedreamwrite · 5 hours ago
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“You rent the whole space?”
“Thought our first date should be private.” He mumbled in your ear, his hands sliding down your waist and your hips to the curve of your ass.
“Fucking rich people.” You scoffed. “Why’d you want our first date private? Think I’m gonna suck you off under the table?”
His laugh was deep, brimming with lust and he made quick work of caging you between his body and Steve’s.
“Course not baby,” he busied his fingers by lifting the hem of your dress inch by inch, “you’re gonna sit back and relax while we suck you off.”
You turned your head to look back at Bucky, but Steve placed his forefinger and thumb on your chin and gently turned your head, and your attention, back to him.
“Eyes on me, princess.” He hummed, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip. “I want you to look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me.”
You felt Bucky shifting behind you, his hands moving down your hips and thighs, the cool metal of his ring making you shiver under his touch.
“Spread your legs, sweetheart.” Steve leaned in to kiss you, mumbling into the kiss, praising you when you listened, “good girl.”
“Bucky what’re you-“ your question ended with another soft yet searing kiss and the quickly yank of your dress being pulled over the curve of your ass.
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imaginedreamwrite · 6 hours ago
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Sunshine: Part 5
The space beside you was warm, and you knew it hadn’t been long since Ari had left you. Rolling over onto your other side, you rested your hand upon the sheets to feel the last remnants of his body heat.
You couldn’t lie; that was the best sleep you’d had in a long time. And just because you felt safe, but because sometime in the night, Ari had wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled your back to his chest.
At some point, you’d felt the weight and the warmth of his arm around you and the gentle brush of his beard against your cheek and neck.
You were only awake for milliseconds, just enough to hear Ari hush you when you stirred. He had given you comfort and soothed you back to bed, around to sleep.
And when you opened your eyes next, it was morning, and he was gone.
You sighed change positions again, rolling into your back. You bent your right leg and began swinging your leg back and forth front left to right while staring at the ceiling, revelling in the comfort of the mattress that put your bed to shame.
Or at least that’s what you were convincing yourself to focus on instead of focusing on the subtle scent of Ari’s cologne that had been transferred from him to the sheets.
You lay there until the need to get up, and out of bed had become too hard to ignore. You got yourself out of bed and dug through the bag you’d packed for a change of clothes, and set them on the bed.
You peeled off the layers you had been wearing and shoved them inside along with your other set of clean clothes. You didn’t know how much to pack, and you didn’t know how long you would be here for, and Ari gave no timeline.
A part of you was hoping that you would be staying for a while, the selfish part of you that had found yourself addicted to the way his arm felt around your waist while you were sleeping. The part of you that was standing on common ground with those fairytale princesses who fell in love at first sight with the handsome and debonaire prince charming’s who had saved them.
And Ari, in every sense, was a prince charming if you ever met one.
You didn’t like to qualify yourself as a damsel in distress, except he had saved you twice now, once after you had to change the locks and once after someone took an axe to your door and broke your newly fixed window.
You still owed him two dates, and while you had planned to have them after he had driven you home from work, to your wrecked house, to his house, the two of you never actually had a date, which you hoped to rectify as soon as you could. And that thought, the thought of actually dating Ari Levinson, had your stomach flipping end over end.
The way your breath caught in your throat, the way your heart seemed to beat faster to an utterly foreign tune when you were around him had solidly proven that you had the hots for Ari. But who could blame you?
He was beautiful.
And he was somehow still single, which seemed strange to you.
How could a man who was that tall and muscular, with that particular smile and those eyes, be single?
He was like a living, breathing Adonis.
He captivated you, and you found that you liked to watch him. You wanted to watch him move and talk; you wanted to watch him run his fingers through his hair, parting his strands with his fingers like the red sea.
“Sunshine,” he called for you before you were even halfway down the staircase, “you want some coffee?”
Even hearing his deep and dulcet voice was enough to make you weak. Everything about that man affected you most intensely.
“Please,” you stepped off the last step and shuffled toward the kitchen, your feet dragging across the floor without you lifting them. “Thank you.”
“God,” Ari kissed the top of your head as he passed you to move toward a pantry behind you, “you’re so sweet.”
“Thank you?” You watched him over your shoulder, paying more attention to him than where you were going, leaving you open to walking right into the counter. You grunted when you walked into the edge, the corner hitting your stomach.
“You okay, sunshine?” Ari closed the pantry door and passed by you again, his hand brushing against the small of your back, a foil bag of coffee beans in his hands.
“I’m okay….” You bashfully mumbled under your breath. “I’m not worse for wear.”
“Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” He grinned at you, his eyes never leaving you until you had pulled out of one of the stools that were tucked under the breakfast bar and had sat upon it.
“I’m…” you squeaked when you shifted too far to the left and nearly toppled the stool over, had it not been for your foot still on the floor. “…good.”
“You wanna go into town with me today, sunshine?” Ari ripped the top off the foil bag of coffee and then scooped some dark roasted beans and dumped them into the built-in grinder attached to the coffee pot.
“You’re heading back into town?”
“Gotta get some supplies for a job I have next week, and I need to order you a door, honey.”
“Oh.” You rubbed your hands against your legs. “I suppose I’m going to have to beg my boss to give me an advance on my paycheque so I can pay for it.”
Ari laughed under his breath and crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head lightly and gave you this look that had, once again, steal your breath. He was watching you with a half-smirk on his face and this generalized state of being entirely too perfect.
“You don’t need to pay for it, sunshine.”
“Yes, I do. I can’t just walk into the hardware store and demand them to give me a door-“
“Sweetheart,” the sound of his laughter had cut you off and made your mouth close with a soft snap, “your boss couldn’t give you an advance even if he wanted to. The little bastard can hardly keep the doors of that place open. Even if he could pay you, you wouldn’t need to grovel at his feet to pay for the door. I’m paying for it.”
“Ari, I can’t ask you to pay for it.”
“You’re not asking, sunshine.” He knew what you meant, but the cheeky devil still commented.
“You already paid for the window and the locks, and now there’s another window and a door-“
“You’re keeping tabs-“
“Why are you doing this? Why are you such a…I don’t know. You’re doing all this, and you don’t have to. Are you…you’re not like…expecting-“
“No.” Ari shook his head again and moved from one side of the kitchen to the other, where you were sitting. “I’m not expecting anything in return.”
“Except a few dates.”
“The little fucker who took an axe to your door and broke your windows was the same asshole who wanted a beer, and you said no because he didn’t have ID. His brother was part of our gang, and the little shit hid behind him. He broke your window and your lock once, and then he took an axe to your door the second time.”
“So..?”
“So no one fucks with you and gets away with it. No one fucks with my girl.” Ari reached for your hand and brushed his hand across your knuckles while his fingers pressed against your palm, making you feel his strength without hurting you.
“Oh…” You looked away and smiled small, though hat smile grew the longer you took to process what exactly he was saying.
“Are you okay with that? Me calling-“
“yes.” You turned back and looked at him, your bright and encompassing smile delivering a clear and concise message. “Absolutely.”
“You’re sure?” Ari squeezed your hand again. “I want to be sure-“
“Yes. I am more okay with that.”
“Good. So you wanna go to town with me today?” Ari pulled away to tend to the coffee maker, pouring you and himself a cup when it was finished, only he had left his on the counter the coffee pot was sitting on and moved to give you yours.
“Yeah, why not. I don’t work today.” You reached for the cup and thanked him, then thanked him again when he gave you cream and sugar. “Out of curiosity, how long do you think it’ll take actually to get a door?”
“A week.” Ari lifted the cup to his lips and blew on the black coffee in his mug, not an ounce of hesitation when he answered you.
“A week? How do you know that?”
“I’m a contractor, honey.” He raised his eyebrow when he caught sight of your frown. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just…maybe I should stay at the hotel…maybe I should book a room?”
“Why would you do that? You don’t need to leave.”
“A week though, Ari. A week…I don’t want to be an inconvenience. I mean, you’re already paying for the door and the window, and you’re letting me stay here.” You muttered, brushing your finger across the rim of your mug.
“Baby, you don’t need to leave. You can stay here. I want you to stay here. You’re not an inconvenience.” Ari flashed you another smile, another burst of reassurance that he wanted you, and he wanted you here.
“I mean…can I do anything to pay you back?”
“Sunshine, you don’t owe me anything more than a few dates. I’m not worried about you owing me anything. You’re not indebted to me.”
“I know-“
“Stop apologizing, sweetheart.” Ari cut you off with a stern yet not an overtly demanding warning. “I want to do this, and I want you to stay here.”
“Okay. Well, can I help with anything at least?” You asked though the look you got from Ari indicated that he wanted to take care of you in every way possible.
“Please, Ari. I don’t want to feel useless.” You whined.
“Baby, you have to work 8-hour shifts almost all week, except for the weekends. I don’t always have work, and if I do, it’s a few hours a day. You don’t need to do anything while you’re here, okay? Just relax.” Ari had come to stand by your side and wrapped his arm around your waist, and kissed your cheek.
“Fine.” You sighed and leaned into him. “I’ll do the bare minimum.”
“Stubborn woman,” Ari muttered into your ear, after which he had kissed your cheek. “We’ll leave for town in half an hour.”
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imaginedreamwrite · 6 hours ago
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Sugar On My Tongue: Part 2
The Red Room was the bar the gang frequented more often than any other place in town or on the outskirts to the north. The Red Room wasn’t owned by the bar, nor had it an official affiliation with the gang, other than the two owners being good friends with quite a few members. It didn’t take long for the bar, despite not being affiliated with the gang or the businesses they had control of, to be the chosen watering hole.
With the Howling Commandos choosing to frequent The Red Room, they had secured the place and prevented it from closing due to competition and possible threats from other bar owners who had been worried that The Red Room was stealing business.
As it stood, just out of town to give the patron’s and loyal customers peace from the gossiping townspeople who had a love/hate relationship with the men and women who saved them from crooked politicians and the county officials who were screwing over everyone who lived there, so did a small army of bikes.
They were lined up outside of the bar and to the left, starting near the stairs that led to the few small outdoor dining tables and working around the side of the building. There wasn’t a single bike that seemed out of place parked outside on the mixed surface parking lot, with a majority of the bikes being on the gravelled section of the expansive lot.
“The Red Room?” Your first observation of the bar was more a marvel at the size of it. You would’ve thought that for a town like this, which already had three different bars, The Red Room wouldn’t have been so big. “Bigger than I expected.”
“That’s what they all say, sugar.” Curtis nudged your arm and directed your attention to the bikes lined up outside the bar. However, he was explicitly referring your attention to a motorcycle with a triangle emblem on the broadest part of the bike, with a single ‘J’ in the centre.
“Your brother is here.” Curtis was leaning against his bike with his ankles crossed and one hand shoved into his right pocket where he had set the keys.
“Good. I have a few words for him.” You huffed.
“Something wrong, sweet thing?” Curtis reached into his right pocket, pulling out a pack of Marlboro red cigarettes and had flipped the top.
“Smoking will kill you.” You glanced over your left shoulder, watching him yank a tan and white dart out of the carton. Your eyes were still on him as he placed the cigarette between his lips and pursed his top and his bottom to hold it in place as he reached back into his pocket for a lighter.
“That so?” He flicked the silver top of the lighter, and upon striking the flint, held the flame up to the end of his smoke.
“Every puff of smoke takes 7 minutes off your life.”
“Guess you don’t smoke then?” he inhaled the smoke and let it sit in his mouth before he part his lips at the right side of his mouth, and it let it billow out.
“Never had.”
“Course not, sugar. You’re a good girl.” He smirked and looked you over from head to toe, his gaze a little too appreciative.
“You can stop eye-fucking me.” You exhaled and rubbed your hands together, feeling the chill of the air now that the sun was starting to set.
After your great rescue, you hadn’t immediately come to the bar. Instead, you had gone to Curtis’ mechanic shop, where he had called a tow truck. You wait there until your car came, after which he had given it a quick analysis, which hadn’t worked out in your favour. Although he had offered to fix it, he was blatant about the fact that you may as well bought a new car and sold yours for scrap metal.
When he was done with his scope of your car, he graciously drove you to Jake’s place to drop off your bags. Which, if you were smart, you would’ve grabbed one of the jackets you’d shoved inside, but at that point, you were both tired and hungry and in need of a stiff drink.
“Sorry, pumpkin.” His smirk grew more expansive, and while he had apologized, he hadn’t let his eyes stray.
He was gorgeous, and he was trouble.
“I’m going inside before my fingers fall off.” You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, stalking toward the steps that led to the small porch and then the front entrance.
“I would’ve given you my jacket, angel,” he called after you, still inhaling and exhaling that grey smoke, and while you hated the idea of it, you couldn’t deny that he made it seem beautiful, “but that would be a pretty bold move.”
“Let me guess, give a woman your jacket, and that’s a sign you’re together?” You crossed your arms over your chest and rocked back and forth on your heels, feeling like you were about to turn into an ice cube if you stood still too long.
“You did this before?”
“It’s all horribly cliché.”
“Won’t say that when you got mine around you.”
“Wow.” You drew out the word and turned your back to him again; this time, you didn’t turn back.
You trounced up the steps to the front door and had just placed your hand onto the cool metal handle, yet you hadn’t pulled. You were staring through the glass at the bar, and the bikers inside that were milling around. You looked through the glass and listened to the sound of mixed chatter, clinking glasses and raucous laughter.
“Going in, princess? Or you waiting for me?” At the sound of Curtis’ voice, you scoffed and ripped open the door before you stalked inside the bar and stood just on the other side of the second set of doors that had been held open by door stoppers.
“Can I help you, babe?” A redhead from behind the bar caught your attention, and at her acknowledgment of you, a few curious eyes had looked your way.
“Jensen.” You mumbled, suddenly reserved among the bikers and their girlfriends or wives who were looking at you.
“Jensen? You looking for Jensen, love?”
“No,” you cleared your throat and shook your head, “I am a Jensen. I’m looking for Jake.”
“Shit!” A petite-looking guy sitting on by the end of the bar cursed, his brown eyes wide. “You’re the baby Jensen?”
“You’re Jake’s sister!” the redhead grinned and cocked her hip to the side. “Come here, love; you’ll damn well need a drink for dealing with that man.”
You cautiously moved toward the bar, shifting away from the suspicious eyes which were sizing you up, paying particular attention to the fit of your jeans over your ass and your hips.
“Hey, fuckers! Keep your eyes on your own business and leave her alone.” Nat snapped, whipping a barely wet rag in their direction.
“Nat-“
“Nat nothing. Don’t make me kick your ass. That’s Jake’s sister, and he doesn’t need lowlife assholes like you undressing his baby sister.” Nat gave them a final glare before she walked closer to you and rested against the bartop at an angle. “What would you like, honey?”
“Whiskey sour.” You didn’t hesitate or even need to think of the classic drink.
“You want a double?” She nudged her head in the direction of more watchful eyes. “I’m sure the gentlemen to your left would buy you a drink to say sorry for being little fucks.”
“Nat-“ She whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed in such a way that made the bikers looked sheepish despite their size.
“I’ll buy her a drink.” The small brown-eyed kid had perked up and threw a couple of bills onto the bar-top.
“Thanks?” You looked at the mousy-looking young guy and then back at Nat.
“He’s not flirting, sweetie. He’s got a fiancee. That’s Peter Parker; he’s one of the newer assholes in this place. Despite his ‘puppy’ look, he’s a damn good fighter.”
“So…you’re Jake’s sister? He mentioned he had two, but I never pictured you-“
“Someone already got your first drink.” Curtis approached from behind you, choosing to take the spot next to you while brushing himself against your side. “Was hoping I’d be the first.”
“Parker beat you to it.” You thanked Nat when the glass was set on the coaster and pushed your way.
“Parker,” Curtis huffed, “that kid should be home with his fiancee.”
“His fiancee is out of town, and you,” Nat pointedly took a jab at him, “should show baby Jensen where her brother’s hanging out.”
“You gonna get me a drink first?”
“How about I shove my foot up to your ass?” Nat lifted her hand and flipped him off, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Use your manners, dick.”
“Natasha, the great love of my life, would. You kindly give me a beer?”
“Your sarcastic little shit,” she laughed and turned to the beer cooler, grabbing a dark amber beer bottle from inside and had twisted the cap off before she set it on the same kind of coaster your drink was on and slid it toward him, “I should kick your ass for the hell of it.”
“Thanks, Nat.” Curtis grabbed his beer and handed her a few bills before he had stepped away from the bar and nudged you. “This way, sugar.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the bar, following him as he moved from the front of the building through a doorway that led to the back where the pool tables were, along with a jukebox and a small stage for any live music if they had it.
“There he is-“
“Hey, loser!” Your voice cut through the noise, and you depart Curtis’s side to walk toward Jake.
“Hey brat!” Jake stepped away from the pool table and set the pool cue down before he pulled you into a hug and lift you from the ground, nearly spilling your drink. “You’re finally here!”
“Yeah thanks for leaving me stranded on the side of the highway.” You smacked his shoulder.
“I didn’t leave you stranded. I sent help.” Jake looked past you to Curtis.
“It went okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirked and winked at you, sweetheart and I had a lot of fun.”
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imaginedreamwrite · 6 hours ago
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Somewhere Only We Know: Part 2
It became a routine, taking care of the Winter Soldier’s wounds when he returned from a mission. He was always there, waiting for you when they would escort you to his cell. The door would open, and you would be locked in for 10 minutes, that was your time limit, to get him as patched up as you possibly could. And for ten minutes, he watched you.
You would take as much time as you could, during those ten minutes, to speak to him. You never finished before they reached for you to escort you out. You didn’t want him to have less time being humanized than he should have been.
“I like the colour blue,” you would tell him odd facts about yourself, like you had been trained to do when a patient was nervous, trying to distract them. Only he wasn’t worried. Or he didn’t appear jittery. And your reasoning for spouting facts about yourself was to treat him like he was a man and not an animal.
“I like to read.” You would speak each fact about yourself before you did anything, and then you would look at him. You would look into his eyes, even for a few seconds, trying not to allow the fear you felt to be shown. He didn’t need any more fear.
“I wanted to visit France when I was younger. I wanted to stand under the Eiffel tower.” Your last fact of the session came while you were putting everything away.
And then you would say goodbye. “Until next time.”
When the ten minutes were up, you would be escorted away, and he would be left in silence. It always bothered you the way he was alone. It was odd, feeling sympathy for a man who could crush your throat with one squeeze of his metal hand. How could you avoid pity? How could you stay your sympathy when he was being treated like he was nothing?
And the way they spoke of him? The way they talked about him like he was an animal was disgusting.
Your sympathy for the man, for the soldier, had made you susceptible to the comments they made about him. You were affected more than he had, and after a few months of taking care of him, of listening to the way they spoke of him, your patience for them had snapped like a thin wire.
“Scrambled brain made him nothing but a shell. Could tell him to fucking kill himself-“ You didn’t have much strength, but you had enough to drive your hand into the shoulders nose with the heel of your palm; it was enough to break his nose and drive the guard back away from the two of you.
Your mistake, you realized, was your temper. You would be punished. They would take you, and they would surely kill you.
In your panic, in your desperation, you turned to face the man you had cared for in those short 10-minute intervals. You turned to face him, your eyes widening when he had stood from the chair he had been sitting in and took two steps toward you. Your breath caught in your throat, and your fear was unbridled, rising quickly until it overlooked every inch of you.
“Please-“ his hand shot out, and you winced, waiting to feel the contact, to feel your throat constricting and air being squeezed from your lungs.
The contact didn’t come as you expected. Instead, his hand shot passed you to the guard standing behind you. You heard the whirring of the plates in the Winter’s soldier’s arm before you listened to the guard gasping.
The door had swung open, and more than one guard had come into the room with batons and tasers, heading toward the guard whose eyes had begun to roll into the back of his head, and his hands had been flying toward the Winter Soldier to kick him off.
“Soldat!” Another guard yelled, called for him. “Otpustit' okhrannika.” (release the guard)
You stumbled back and fell to the hard floor, kicking your heels to push yourself away from him, away from the guards who were going to descend upon him.
“Ne trogay moi veshchi.” (Do not touch my things)
“Please don’t!-“ Your protests were silenced when he was taken under control, their batons beating him to the ground. “Stop! You’re going to hurt him! Stop it!”
You were screaming at them and had continued to cry until they were dragging him out of the room. You had struggled to push yourself to stand, slipping onto the blood that was still lying on the floor. You slipped and fell back again, your head smacking against the bottom and a dull sense of pain overtaking every other sense.
You were dazed, staring at the ceiling unblinking, forgetting for a moment where you were. Your mind was inserting a pleasant image in place of the feeling of blood on your hands and your head throbbing. Instead of being in a position of great pain, you felt as if you were laying on a bed of soft grass, staring at the with an unbothered smile on your face.
And he was there. He was free, and he was there.
“Soldat.” You mumbled. “Soldier.”
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He remembered little. He didn’t know his name. He didn’t know where he was born. He didn’t know how old he was. He didn’t remember how he got here.
But he remembered the soft touch and the tenderly spoken words that echoed in his head. ‘I like the colour blue.’
His mind was wiped, yet he remembered soft hands against his arm and the voice of a woman who was speaking slowly.
‘Am I hurting you?’ Someone like her couldn’t hurt him.
His mind was wiped, yet he had remembered her. Or maybe he placed pieces of her.
Her softness.
She was soft. Her touch was gentle. Her voice was even softer.
He remembered. He held onto her.
Where was she now?
“Poluchil dlya tebya nebol'shoy podarok, lyubezno predostavlennyy Pierce.” (Got a little gift for you, courtesy of Pierce)
He didn’t visibly react, not to the idea of a gift and what it could mean for him. He didn’t respond, and he didn’t speak when they laughed behind him, leading him to his cell and the gift that would await him.
He kept his eyes forward and moved where and when they told him to, heeding their rules and their warnings to avoid getting any more beatings. He listened to them for the sake of self-preservation.
Cuts and bruises would heal faster due to the super-soldier serum running through his veins. However, he didn’t give them a reason to beat him more, hook him to the chair and electrocute him as punishment.
“Otkroy dver'!” (Open the door!)
He stood in front of the steel door, his hands by his sides and his attention fixated on the seamless metal that barricaded them from him, waiting for the sound of the gears shifting for the door to open.
He was being returned to his cage with the promise of a ‘gift.’ He was being returned to his cage like an animal being turned in for the night. He served his purpose; it was time for him to wait until he could be helpful again.
He entered the cell that basket resembled a functional room, and his attention was taken by the image of the woman he remembered. He was distracted and confused by the woman with the soft voice and hands lying slumped against the floor.
Her ankles were crossed, her arms folded over her chest. Her chin was resting against her right shoulder, and she was sleeping. He studied her, studied her as she slept with her back against the wall and a shiver running down her spine.
“Hey! Pierce doesn’t want you breaking her on the first night!” Their laughter died as the door closed.
He moved slowly, cautiously. He moved toward her and crouched down, extending his vibranium hand, touching his artificial fingers to her cheek, watching her twitch and try to smack away the intrusive object.
“Gift.” He stood, and his hands fell to his sides. He stared at the woman, stared at her sleeping.
He frowned, and his jaw clenched. He didn’t remember much, but he placed pieces of her.
Soft hands. Soft voice.
The colour blue.
“Wake up.” His voice was gruff. “Wake up. You can’t sleep on the floor.” He nudged her foot, huffing when she grunted and shifted positions, pulling her legs up to her chest.
“Gift.” He growled under his breath and reached down, unceremoniously lifting you from the floor, waking you from your sleep by force.
“Stop! Please! Please don’t hurt me!” He grunted when you kicked him when you kicked his thigh, and he ended up throwing you on the bed.
When you landed, you hurried away into the corner and pressed your back to the wall. Your eyes were filled with momentary fear from not remembering why you were here. Then, when the moment passed, and you recognized him, and whatever shit they told you when he was gone, you slowly started to relax.
“I’m…I’m Y/N. I’m the…nurse.”
He sat on the edge of the bed and grunted, ripping his boots off his feet and tossing them into the corner. The bed squeaked with every movement you made, and he heard the sharp inhale of air when he removed the vest, exposing the scars.
“Oh my god,” you shuffled forward and reached out your hand to touch them, “you-“
He grabbed your hand and pulled you toward him, trapping you under his body. He shifted his position and used the weight of his legs to keep you pinned down.
“Please!-“
“You have bruises.” He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.
“They were…rough. I’m sorry.” You apologized and tried to yank your wrist out of his grip.
“Gift.”
“What?” You pushed yourself into the mattress. “What do you mean gift?”
“You’re mine. They’ve given you to me.”
“What? No. Now they can’t…they can’t give me to you-“
“You are mine.” He held your gaze and pressed his thigh against your own, putting just enough pressure into your legs to remind you of the power he held. “You will stay here.”
“I can’t-“ he cut you off again.
“Sleep.” He let you go. He let you hurry to the other side of the bed, watching you curl in on yourself with your back to the wall and your eyes on him.
“I’m not…” you swallowed, and he heard your heart rate spike, “those scars look painful.”
He laid down on the bed and turned his back to you, ending the conversation before it started.
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imaginedreamwrite · 10 hours ago
So this is just purely me being curious buuuuttt would you ever consider writing a Drabble based off of a song. Like not just what it says or is titled but the emotion and excitement you feel from it. Just an idea cuz I have this one song in mind that I would love to be written into a beautiful story and you’re like one of my favorite writers on here and I think you would execute it so well! I’m sorry if I’m being over cheery lol, I just have always been so in love with how music makes me feel and visualize stories that I thought maybe someone with writing talent would maybe be interested??? Who knows but yea that’s it lol if it doesn’t interest you feel free to ignore or say anything else 🤷‍♀️
I definitely would.
I’ve written quite a lot of song inspired drabbles and I’d love to write more
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imaginedreamwrite · 15 hours ago
Text
Reader may be giving Stucky a chance but that won’t stop her from making sarcastic comments at their expense
Which they love
And if anyone were to talk to her that way, they would send them to hades without hesitation
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imaginedreamwrite · 15 hours ago
Text
Reblog for tags: @astroniy @little-phoenix-rising @dontbescaredtosingalong
Sugar On My Tongue: Part 2
The Red Room was the bar the gang frequented more often than any other place in town or on the outskirts to the north. The Red Room wasn’t owned by the bar, nor had it an official affiliation with the gang, other than the two owners being good friends with quite a few members. It didn’t take long for the bar, despite not being affiliated with the gang or the businesses they had control of, to be the chosen watering hole.
With the Howling Commandos choosing to frequent The Red Room, they had secured the place and prevented it from closing due to competition and possible threats from other bar owners who had been worried that The Red Room was stealing business.
As it stood, just out of town to give the patron’s and loyal customers peace from the gossiping townspeople who had a love/hate relationship with the men and women who saved them from crooked politicians and the county officials who were screwing over everyone who lived there, so did a small army of bikes.
They were lined up outside of the bar and to the left, starting near the stairs that led to the few small outdoor dining tables and working around the side of the building. There wasn’t a single bike that seemed out of place parked outside on the mixed surface parking lot, with a majority of the bikes being on the gravelled section of the expansive lot.
“The Red Room?” Your first observation of the bar was more a marvel at the size of it. You would’ve thought that for a town like this, which already had three different bars, The Red Room wouldn’t have been so big. “Bigger than I expected.”
“That’s what they all say, sugar.” Curtis nudged your arm and directed your attention to the bikes lined up outside the bar. However, he was explicitly referring your attention to a motorcycle with a triangle emblem on the broadest part of the bike, with a single ‘J’ in the centre.
“Your brother is here.” Curtis was leaning against his bike with his ankles crossed and one hand shoved into his right pocket where he had set the keys.
“Good. I have a few words for him.” You huffed.
“Something wrong, sweet thing?” Curtis reached into his right pocket, pulling out a pack of Marlboro red cigarettes and had flipped the top.
“Smoking will kill you.” You glanced over your left shoulder, watching him yank a tan and white dart out of the carton. Your eyes were still on him as he placed the cigarette between his lips and pursed his top and his bottom to hold it in place as he reached back into his pocket for a lighter.
“That so?” He flicked the silver top of the lighter, and upon striking the flint, held the flame up to the end of his smoke.
“Every puff of smoke takes 7 minutes off your life.”
“Guess you don’t smoke then?” he inhaled the smoke and let it sit in his mouth before he part his lips at the right side of his mouth, and it let it billow out.
“Never had.”
“Course not, sugar. You’re a good girl.” He smirked and looked you over from head to toe, his gaze a little too appreciative.
“You can stop eye-fucking me.” You exhaled and rubbed your hands together, feeling the chill of the air now that the sun was starting to set.
After your great rescue, you hadn’t immediately come to the bar. Instead, you had gone to Curtis’ mechanic shop, where he had called a tow truck. You wait there until your car came, after which he had given it a quick analysis, which hadn’t worked out in your favour. Although he had offered to fix it, he was blatant about the fact that you may as well bought a new car and sold yours for scrap metal.
When he was done with his scope of your car, he graciously drove you to Jake’s place to drop off your bags. Which, if you were smart, you would’ve grabbed one of the jackets you’d shoved inside, but at that point, you were both tired and hungry and in need of a stiff drink.
“Sorry, pumpkin.” His smirk grew more expansive, and while he had apologized, he hadn’t let his eyes stray.
He was gorgeous, and he was trouble.
“I’m going inside before my fingers fall off.” You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, stalking toward the steps that led to the small porch and then the front entrance.
“I would’ve given you my jacket, angel,” he called after you, still inhaling and exhaling that grey smoke, and while you hated the idea of it, you couldn’t deny that he made it seem beautiful, “but that would be a pretty bold move.”
“Let me guess, give a woman your jacket, and that’s a sign you’re together?” You crossed your arms over your chest and rocked back and forth on your heels, feeling like you were about to turn into an ice cube if you stood still too long.
“You did this before?”
“It’s all horribly cliché.”
“Won’t say that when you got mine around you.”
“Wow.” You drew out the word and turned your back to him again; this time, you didn’t turn back.
You trounced up the steps to the front door and had just placed your hand onto the cool metal handle, yet you hadn’t pulled. You were staring through the glass at the bar, and the bikers inside that were milling around. You looked through the glass and listened to the sound of mixed chatter, clinking glasses and raucous laughter.
“Going in, princess? Or you waiting for me?” At the sound of Curtis’ voice, you scoffed and ripped open the door before you stalked inside the bar and stood just on the other side of the second set of doors that had been held open by door stoppers.
“Can I help you, babe?” A redhead from behind the bar caught your attention, and at her acknowledgment of you, a few curious eyes had looked your way.
“Jensen.” You mumbled, suddenly reserved among the bikers and their girlfriends or wives who were looking at you.
“Jensen? You looking for Jensen, love?”
“No,” you cleared your throat and shook your head, “I am a Jensen. I’m looking for Jake.”
“Shit!” A petite-looking guy sitting on by the end of the bar cursed, his brown eyes wide. “You’re the baby Jensen?”
“You’re Jake’s sister!” the redhead grinned and cocked her hip to the side. “Come here, love; you’ll damn well need a drink for dealing with that man.”
You cautiously moved toward the bar, shifting away from the suspicious eyes which were sizing you up, paying particular attention to the fit of your jeans over your ass and your hips.
“Hey, fuckers! Keep your eyes on your own business and leave her alone.” Nat snapped, whipping a barely wet rag in their direction.
“Nat-“
“Nat nothing. Don’t make me kick your ass. That’s Jake’s sister, and he doesn’t need lowlife assholes like you undressing his baby sister.” Nat gave them a final glare before she walked closer to you and rested against the bartop at an angle. “What would you like, honey?”
“Whiskey sour.” You didn’t hesitate or even need to think of the classic drink.
“You want a double?” She nudged her head in the direction of more watchful eyes. “I’m sure the gentlemen to your left would buy you a drink to say sorry for being little fucks.”
“Nat-“ She whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed in such a way that made the bikers looked sheepish despite their size.
“I’ll buy her a drink.” The small brown-eyed kid had perked up and threw a couple of bills onto the bar-top.
“Thanks?” You looked at the mousy-looking young guy and then back at Nat.
“He’s not flirting, sweetie. He’s got a fiancee. That’s Peter Parker; he’s one of the newer assholes in this place. Despite his ‘puppy’ look, he’s a damn good fighter.”
“So…you’re Jake’s sister? He mentioned he had two, but I never pictured you-“
“Someone already got your first drink.” Curtis approached from behind you, choosing to take the spot next to you while brushing himself against your side. “Was hoping I’d be the first.”
“Parker beat you to it.” You thanked Nat when the glass was set on the coaster and pushed your way.
“Parker,” Curtis huffed, “that kid should be home with his fiancee.”
“His fiancee is out of town, and you,” Nat pointedly took a jab at him, “should show baby Jensen where her brother’s hanging out.”
“You gonna get me a drink first?”
“How about I shove my foot up to your ass?” Nat lifted her hand and flipped him off, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Use your manners, dick.”
“Natasha, the great love of my life, would. You kindly give me a beer?”
“Your sarcastic little shit,” she laughed and turned to the beer cooler, grabbing a dark amber beer bottle from inside and had twisted the cap off before she set it on the same kind of coaster your drink was on and slid it toward him, “I should kick your ass for the hell of it.”
“Thanks, Nat.” Curtis grabbed his beer and handed her a few bills before he had stepped away from the bar and nudged you. “This way, sugar.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the bar, following him as he moved from the front of the building through a doorway that led to the back where the pool tables were, along with a jukebox and a small stage for any live music if they had it.
“There he is-“
“Hey, loser!” Your voice cut through the noise, and you depart Curtis’s side to walk toward Jake.
“Hey brat!” Jake stepped away from the pool table and set the pool cue down before he pulled you into a hug and lift you from the ground, nearly spilling your drink. “You’re finally here!”
“Yeah thanks for leaving me stranded on the side of the highway.” You smacked his shoulder.
“I didn’t leave you stranded. I sent help.” Jake looked past you to Curtis.
“It went okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirked and winked at you, sweetheart and I had a lot of fun.”
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imaginedreamwrite · 16 hours ago
Text
Sugar On My Tongue: Part 2
The Red Room was the bar the gang frequented more often than any other place in town or on the outskirts to the north. The Red Room wasn’t owned by the bar, nor had it an official affiliation with the gang, other than the two owners being good friends with quite a few members. It didn’t take long for the bar, despite not being affiliated with the gang or the businesses they had control of, to be the chosen watering hole.
With the Howling Commandos choosing to frequent The Red Room, they had secured the place and prevented it from closing due to competition and possible threats from other bar owners who had been worried that The Red Room was stealing business.
As it stood, just out of town to give the patron’s and loyal customers peace from the gossiping townspeople who had a love/hate relationship with the men and women who saved them from crooked politicians and the county officials who were screwing over everyone who lived there, so did a small army of bikes.
They were lined up outside of the bar and to the left, starting near the stairs that led to the few small outdoor dining tables and working around the side of the building. There wasn’t a single bike that seemed out of place parked outside on the mixed surface parking lot, with a majority of the bikes being on the gravelled section of the expansive lot.
“The Red Room?” Your first observation of the bar was more a marvel at the size of it. You would’ve thought that for a town like this, which already had three different bars, The Red Room wouldn’t have been so big. “Bigger than I expected.”
“That’s what they all say, sugar.” Curtis nudged your arm and directed your attention to the bikes lined up outside the bar. However, he was explicitly referring your attention to a motorcycle with a triangle emblem on the broadest part of the bike, with a single ‘J’ in the centre.
“Your brother is here.” Curtis was leaning against his bike with his ankles crossed and one hand shoved into his right pocket where he had set the keys.
“Good. I have a few words for him.” You huffed.
“Something wrong, sweet thing?” Curtis reached into his right pocket, pulling out a pack of Marlboro red cigarettes and had flipped the top.
“Smoking will kill you.” You glanced over your left shoulder, watching him yank a tan and white dart out of the carton. Your eyes were still on him as he placed the cigarette between his lips and pursed his top and his bottom to hold it in place as he reached back into his pocket for a lighter.
“That so?” He flicked the silver top of the lighter, and upon striking the flint, held the flame up to the end of his smoke.
“Every puff of smoke takes 7 minutes off your life.”
“Guess you don’t smoke then?” he inhaled the smoke and let it sit in his mouth before he part his lips at the right side of his mouth, and it let it billow out.
“Never had.”
“Course not, sugar. You’re a good girl.” He smirked and looked you over from head to toe, his gaze a little too appreciative.
“You can stop eye-fucking me.” You exhaled and rubbed your hands together, feeling the chill of the air now that the sun was starting to set.
After your great rescue, you hadn’t immediately come to the bar. Instead, you had gone to Curtis’ mechanic shop, where he had called a tow truck. You wait there until your car came, after which he had given it a quick analysis, which hadn’t worked out in your favour. Although he had offered to fix it, he was blatant about the fact that you may as well bought a new car and sold yours for scrap metal.
When he was done with his scope of your car, he graciously drove you to Jake’s place to drop off your bags. Which, if you were smart, you would’ve grabbed one of the jackets you’d shoved inside, but at that point, you were both tired and hungry and in need of a stiff drink.
“Sorry, pumpkin.” His smirk grew more expansive, and while he had apologized, he hadn’t let his eyes stray.
He was gorgeous, and he was trouble.
“I’m going inside before my fingers fall off.” You rolled your eyes and turned on your heel, stalking toward the steps that led to the small porch and then the front entrance.
“I would’ve given you my jacket, angel,” he called after you, still inhaling and exhaling that grey smoke, and while you hated the idea of it, you couldn’t deny that he made it seem beautiful, “but that would be a pretty bold move.”
“Let me guess, give a woman your jacket, and that’s a sign you’re together?” You crossed your arms over your chest and rocked back and forth on your heels, feeling like you were about to turn into an ice cube if you stood still too long.
“You did this before?”
“It’s all horribly cliché.”
“Won’t say that when you got mine around you.”
“Wow.” You drew out the word and turned your back to him again; this time, you didn’t turn back.
You trounced up the steps to the front door and had just placed your hand onto the cool metal handle, yet you hadn’t pulled. You were staring through the glass at the bar, and the bikers inside that were milling around. You looked through the glass and listened to the sound of mixed chatter, clinking glasses and raucous laughter.
“Going in, princess? Or you waiting for me?” At the sound of Curtis’ voice, you scoffed and ripped open the door before you stalked inside the bar and stood just on the other side of the second set of doors that had been held open by door stoppers.
“Can I help you, babe?” A redhead from behind the bar caught your attention, and at her acknowledgment of you, a few curious eyes had looked your way.
“Jensen.” You mumbled, suddenly reserved among the bikers and their girlfriends or wives who were looking at you.
“Jensen? You looking for Jensen, love?”
“No,” you cleared your throat and shook your head, “I am a Jensen. I’m looking for Jake.”
“Shit!” A petite-looking guy sitting on by the end of the bar cursed, his brown eyes wide. “You’re the baby Jensen?”
“You’re Jake’s sister!” the redhead grinned and cocked her hip to the side. “Come here, love; you’ll damn well need a drink for dealing with that man.”
You cautiously moved toward the bar, shifting away from the suspicious eyes which were sizing you up, paying particular attention to the fit of your jeans over your ass and your hips.
“Hey, fuckers! Keep your eyes on your own business and leave her alone.” Nat snapped, whipping a barely wet rag in their direction.
“Nat-“
“Nat nothing. Don’t make me kick your ass. That’s Jake’s sister, and he doesn’t need lowlife assholes like you undressing his baby sister.” Nat gave them a final glare before she walked closer to you and rested against the bartop at an angle. “What would you like, honey?”
“Whiskey sour.” You didn’t hesitate or even need to think of the classic drink.
“You want a double?” She nudged her head in the direction of more watchful eyes. “I’m sure the gentlemen to your left would buy you a drink to say sorry for being little fucks.”
“Nat-“ She whipped her head around and narrowed her eyes, her lips pursed in such a way that made the bikers looked sheepish despite their size.
“I’ll buy her a drink.” The small brown-eyed kid had perked up and threw a couple of bills onto the bar-top.
“Thanks?” You looked at the mousy-looking young guy and then back at Nat.
“He’s not flirting, sweetie. He’s got a fiancee. That’s Peter Parker; he’s one of the newer assholes in this place. Despite his ‘puppy’ look, he’s a damn good fighter.”
“So…you’re Jake’s sister? He mentioned he had two, but I never pictured you-“
“Someone already got your first drink.” Curtis approached from behind you, choosing to take the spot next to you while brushing himself against your side. “Was hoping I’d be the first.”
“Parker beat you to it.” You thanked Nat when the glass was set on the coaster and pushed your way.
“Parker,” Curtis huffed, “that kid should be home with his fiancee.”
“His fiancee is out of town, and you,” Nat pointedly took a jab at him, “should show baby Jensen where her brother’s hanging out.”
“You gonna get me a drink first?”
“How about I shove my foot up to your ass?” Nat lifted her hand and flipped him off, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Use your manners, dick.”
“Natasha, the great love of my life, would. You kindly give me a beer?”
“Your sarcastic little shit,” she laughed and turned to the beer cooler, grabbing a dark amber beer bottle from inside and had twisted the cap off before she set it on the same kind of coaster your drink was on and slid it toward him, “I should kick your ass for the hell of it.”
“Thanks, Nat.” Curtis grabbed his beer and handed her a few bills before he had stepped away from the bar and nudged you. “This way, sugar.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the bar, following him as he moved from the front of the building through a doorway that led to the back where the pool tables were, along with a jukebox and a small stage for any live music if they had it.
“There he is-“
“Hey, loser!” Your voice cut through the noise, and you depart Curtis’s side to walk toward Jake.
“Hey brat!” Jake stepped away from the pool table and set the pool cue down before he pulled you into a hug and lift you from the ground, nearly spilling your drink. “You’re finally here!”
“Yeah thanks for leaving me stranded on the side of the highway.” You smacked his shoulder.
“I didn’t leave you stranded. I sent help.” Jake looked past you to Curtis.
“It went okay?”
“Oh yeah,” he smirked and winked at you, sweetheart and I had a lot of fun.”
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imaginedreamwrite · 18 hours ago
Those hateful Anons want to get people to quit.
I say, those Anons can stuff it up their forth point of contact
Keep doing your thing and let them seethe.
They only wish they could write as well and prolifically as you :)
Thank you nice anon
I appreciate you!
It’s just frustrating cause i do put so much effort into what I write (which I am very self-doubtful about) and then get anon hate that just pokes at insecurities
But its anons like you (who are amazing!) that make me feel better ❤️ 🤗 💗
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