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scoonsalicious · 3 days

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Unwanted: Chapter 29, Unarmed, Redux - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

Word Count: 741

Previously On...: Steve made some confessions.

A/N: Finally, resolutions!

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

You sat there, staring off into space for several moments. You couldn’t believe that had just happened. Was there no end to the number of times a super soldier would betray you?

Bucky cleared his throat after a few silent minutes. “I’ll… I’ll leave you alone now, doll,” he said. “‘M sure I’m one of the last people you want to see right now.”

He made to leave, but you called him back. “Buck, no,” you said. He turned around and looked at you quixotically. “Stay. We’re not done.”

He swallowed, then nodded, coming back to sit in the armchair next to your bed. “Yeah, okay,” he said.

“Did you mean what you said,” you asked, looking up at him. “Back in Atlantic City? When you said you were self-sabotaging?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you in confusion, as if that was the last topic of conversation he expected you to bring up right now. “When, uh… when you broke things off, for good, after Russia, I started seeing Raynor a lot more frequently. Like, two hours a day, every day,” he offered. “I needed to understand why I kept ruining things, especially when you make me so damned happy. It didn’t make sense to me.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, didn’t make much sense to me, either,” you told him with a smirk, but he didn’t catch it.

“She told me, and I’m paraphrasin’ here, that, despite all the progress I’ve made, I still haven’t forgiven myself for the things I’ve done as the Winter Soldier,” he said, fidgeting with his metal fingers. “And, because I haven’t forgiven myself, I can’t see myself as being worth being loved, being happy. So, I did things, behaved in ways that proved I shouldn’t be. Like a, uh… ‘self-fulfilling prophecy,’ she said.

“She said that I created a loop, a cycle, where I kept makin’ fucked up decisions because I kept expectin’ to fuck up,” he continued. “Like, of course I hurt you, because I was scared of hurting you, if that makes sense? She said Carthage was like a mirror. When I sought validation from her, I was really seeking it from myself. I don’t necessarily know if I buy that,” he chuckled humorously. “Feels like it lets me off the hook too easily, but the doc seems to think it makes sense.”

You nodded, considering his words. “I thought you said she was a shitty quack,” you said after a moment. Bucky looked at you questioningly. “I did.”

“Sounds to me like you owe her a ‘thank you,’” you said, smiling at him. “What did she tell you to do about it?”

Bucky shrugged. “She called me a fucking dumbass, to start. Told me real love isn’t about whether or not you think you’re worthy of someone; it’s about working to be worthy of someone, to keep striving to be the best version of yourself for them. She said I needed to learn how to be honest, with you, and myself, to let you know when I’m struggling, to open up so we can help each other carry our burdens, and not hide mine away because I’m afraid.”

“She sounds a lot smarter than you’ve ever given her credit for,” you teased gently.

Bucky snorted. “Never let her hear you say that,” he said. “I won’t hear the end of it.”

“Can I ask you a question?” he said, after a moment of silence. You nodded. “Did you mean what you said, in front of Carthage, that you wished we could start fresh? Build something new? Something better?”

You nodded again. “With my whole heart,” you told him.

Bucky seemed to take a moment to contemplate your words before he stuck out his hand. “‘M Bucky,” he said.

You scoffed playfully. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Bucky’?” you asked with a grin.

“I dunno,” he said with an answering grin of his own. “What the hell kind of name is Pocket?”

You grabbed his outstretched hand and pulled him to you, slotting your mouth over his and feeling his smile against your lips. “POCKET!” you heard Tony shout from behind the closed door. “He’s been in there long enough! The people demand to know! What the ‘F’ Is It?”

You and Bucky broke apart from your kiss, foreheads pressed together as you both laughed. Yeah, you thought with a smile, the two of you were going to be okay.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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wambsgansshoelaces · 3 months

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Hi there! How are you doing? I just recently found your account and LOVE it! Thank you for sharing all your stories! I particularly loved the head cannons for clingy Roman and comforting Roman!

After reading the comforting Roman one, I had an idea for some more head cannons or a story (truly whichever you prefer if you want to write this idea). But maybe something along the lines of standing up to Logan somehow and defending Roman? Seeing him so hurt and vulnerable because of what his father said broke my heart and I definitely think he needs someone in his corner, privately and publicly!

Thank you so much if you do write something around this idea, but please don’t feel pressured to if it doesn’t spark any ideas. I hope you have a fabulous day/night! 💛

In My Corner

Roman Roy x Reader

Oneshot

this is literally the sweetest request I’ve ever gotten so it went to the top of my priority list. I’m doing okay, thank you so much for asking!! I hope you’re amazing <3 you don’t understand how much it means to me that you enjoy what I write and that you love it!!! it makes me so happy!!! any request or idea you have, I promise, will give me ideas. I’m so grateful I have people like you enjoying and reading my work!! It’s one in the morning for me, so I’m sorry I can’t make it longer… but enjoy! I love you rita, thank you for requesting xx

also just a general psa, if there’s never any specific pronoun/reader gender detail in the request, I’ll default to fem/female unless I can access your profile, to which then I’ll just use the requester’s pronouns/gender. enjoy!

Word Count: 2.181k

Married life was all you could’ve ever dreamed it would be. It was more.

Roman had surprised you with how quickly he’d committed to you and you solely. He’d told you, the night of your wedding, he knew you were it for him from your first official date. That even if you dumped him, hated him, threw him out, he’d be yours. He’d never remarry, he’d never even look at another woman.

You’re the only thing that brings light to his life. You radiate warmth into him. Being around you is being by a fire in the dead of winter up on Mount Everest. In quiet conversations in the middle of the night, the two of you tangled together in bed, he’d admitted he’d kill for you. Lie for you, commit crime for you, it was all the same to him. You are what brings meaning to his life. You’re an absolute in his world of probabilities. His anchor, his rock, the love of his fucking life.

Neither of you ever take off your rings. You’d both made sure to get metals that wouldn’t rust with water and had high durability just so you were never without them. If Roman was a shell of a man before he’d met you, he’s a god now.

Late nights at the office, he has a thing of chocolate for you clutched in his hands as an apology. Untoward women flirting with him despite his very obvious marriage (he endlessly speaks of you to anyone and everyone), his hand is on your hip, his lips on yours. You’re sick? He’s taken the day off to stay with you so you’re not suffering on your own.

On the off chance you both have days off and the energy, you’re out and about. Arcades, carnivals, anything so he can see you laughing and smiling and so fucking glowy. If you’re happy, he’s happy. You’re the most important thing in his life. In between your occasional excursions, he’s Googling how to beat carnival games, he’s practicing Flappy Bird, just so that when you do go out, and your eyes catch on a particularly cute plushie, he can get it for you and watch your face light up and feel the universe grace him with heaven.

If there was anything that came with being married that you didn’t like, it was his family. Maybe not Kendall, nor Shiv. Both were kind to you, and Connor didn’t come round anymore. You couldn’t blame him.

Roman’s your husband. You know him, you know what upsets him. And nine times out of ten, when he’s crying, it’s because of his father.

Usually so bubbly and relaxed, when he was upset, he was upset. He was unable to function. He ran to you like a moth drawn to light. He’d gone so long not knowing how to cope; you were only just now helping him learn how.

“Roman, where’s that cream sweater of yours?” you call out to him. He was washing his face in the bathroom, the two of you getting ready for dinner with his family. Waystar shenanigans, as he’d put it. But you knew that truthfully, it was deeper than that. More terse.

“Hell if I know,” he calls back.

“Then what’re you going to wear?”

“No clue.”

You tsk, instead crossing over to your side of the closet to pick out an outfit. “Just no weird color combinations, for fuck’s sake.”

“Whatever you want, baby,” he says, not bothered, strolling into the closet. He pinches the small of your back as he slides past you, going to look through his clothing. “What color are you wearing?”

“It’s going to be really cold, so I was thinking cable knit. Or should I just wear a turtleneck and slap a jacket over it?” You hold both options up, turning to face him. This was routine for you both. Strangely enough, he loved matching with you, and you both regularly help each other dress.

“You’re already shivering. Wear the sweater.” He comes to you, plants a kiss on your lips, then turns back and tugs his shirt off over his head. He manages to find another sweater, slipping it on. It’s the same color as yours, and even though he’s done this countless times before, your heart warms. Once you’re both ready, you’re in the car that was sent for you. You grip the bridge of your nose with your fingers, taking a deep breath as the car gently jostles you as you’re driven. Roman scoots over in the back seat, where you both are, so that your sides are pressed together. His hand slides over your thigh, rubbing gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say truthfully, dropping your hand and looking over at him. You smile, meeting his eyes. You adore him. It’s evident in your gaze, and it’s mirrored in his. “Just bracing myself.”

He leans over, kissing your cheek.

Roman grips your hand tightly as you go up in the elevator.

You stick a fake smile on your face and step out into the light to greet Marcia. She air kisses both your cheeks, then Roman’s, greeting you both. You both make your rounds, hugging, kissing cheeks. You pretend to steal Iverson’s nose, to his delight, and he runs to his father, tattling on you with a massive grin on his face. Kendall just smiles at the both of you, the exhaustion slightly lifting from his features.

You go say hello to Greg, who’s happy to see you. Out of all the Roys, save for your husband, Greg’s the one you got on with the most. You were both in the same situation. You were both considered outsiders, yet still apart of the inner circle, still concerned with all the plotting and scheming and drama.

He gives you a hug, and you duly note that Roman’s being taken aside by his dad. You turn your attention back to Greg, making sure to keep an ear strained for anything that might go wrong. You chat idly for a bit, and you get the sense that everyone in the room is doing the same thing you are. You can feel the tension slowly spreading. Something’s wrong. And if it’s not, it will be very soon.

It doesn’t take very long.

Logan’s voice is booming through the townhouse, and everyone gathered quickly silences.

“What do you fucking want me to do, then, Roman? Roll over and let you fuck me?”

You and Greg wince in unison. “Are they still arguing over whether they should sell?” he asks you quietly. Frown starting on your face, you nod.

Waystar wasn’t the only company the Roys had control over. There were conglomerates on conglomerates of other companies, the most problematic of the bunch causing massive monetary issues- among others. It was an ethical disaster, and the lawsuits were beginning to pile up on top of each other.

While the general consensus was that the company should be sold, and quickly, Logan was stuck in his ways and took it as personal offence. Specifically with Roman. You couldn’t even begin to make up some lame reason as to why. They’d gotten into countless arguments over it, Roman doing his best to convince his father that if this one company went down, it was going to take a lot down with it.

You give Kendall a look, and he pushes himself up from his seat on the sofa and follows the direction of their voices. Shiv follows shortly after.

At dinner, everyone is white knuckling their silverware. Under the table, you let your leg press up against Roman’s. His entire body’s taut, and he’s staring down into his plate. You eat silently, the chatter around you awkward. You and Shiv murmur to each other about a new restaurant opening up down the street, making unofficial plans to go together when you could.

Of course, the moment you’re feeling at ease again, Logan decides to ruin it.

“Roman, you want to tell the table how willing you are to stab your own father in the back? We can’t just not talk about it.” He chews before speaking again, voice ringing. “Don’t you think your wife ought to keep her eyes open?”

You bite down a retort, Roman bristling. “Come on, Dad. Don’t bring her into this.”

You’re silently hoping that Shiv, Kendall, anyone steps in. Points out how wrong this is. How hypocritical, just how fucking ridiculous it all is.

“You know what, Romulus? I’ve let you do as you please for far too long.” You look up from your plate, on the brink of shock. You just can’t fathom the idiocy. “It’s time the world knew that you’re a cheat, you’re a liar, and you’re fucking rotten to the core. It’s time you stopped showing your face around here, like your brother.”

Your husband opens his mouth, then closes it, flabbergasted. You can see the tears rushing to his tear ducts, you can practically feel the tightening in his chest.

That’s it. You can’t. You can’t fucking handle this anymore. You get up abruptly, your chair making a garish, grating noise against the marble floor. “He’s right. We shouldn’t come here anymore,” you say, voice steady and clear. Your voice is raised, your tone firm. “It’s time we left, Roman."

Logan drops his utensils, the silver clattering against the table. “What’s the hurry? At least finish up with dinner.”

The heat immediately rushes to your face, and you can’t suppress the anger anymore. “Are you fucking senile?” you yell, Roman quietly getting up to stand beside you. “Enough is enough. Stupid fucking Pyros and it’s stupid fucking issues! You run it like a prison, your profit is nonexistent, and it’s being sued by every law firm under the sun. There’s a right decision you can make, but your head is too far up your ass for you to even see it. Go ahead, let shit hit the fan! Let the entire fucking family fortune get snatched away from you because of one measly company! And by all means, bully Roman over it, despite the fucking fact that every single person in this room agrees with what we’re saying.” You’re the one bristling now, the words spilling out of your mouth. “We’re not coming back. I’m going to the press first thing in the morning. You’ve been doing too much for too long. You’re nothing more than a piece of shit, Logan. You wouldn’t know a good son if he fucking punched you. Fuck off. You don’t deserve someone like Roman.”

Roman’s out the door before you are. Face still flushed and adrenaline still pumping through your veins, Roman helps you into your coat, you grab your purse, and you’re out in the chilly New York air, waving your arm for a taxi.

The ride home is silent, his head leaning on your shoulder.

Back at home, you kick off your shoes at the door, your stomach still in knots. “I’m sorry,” you manage, watching him shuck his jacket off and toss it into the coat closet. “I should’ve… I should’ve kept my temper in control.”

“Sorry? Sorry for what?” He comes over to you, his hands going to cup your hips and pull you close to him. “You’re the only one that’s been in my corner. Ever. My entire fucking life. You deserve a fucking medal.”

You kiss him gently, quickly. “It just made me angry.”

“I’m going to quit,” he tells you lowly, hand coming up to your jaw. He strokes your bottom lip as he gazes at you. “I’m going to quit and we’re going to run off to whatever place is the farthest from here.”

You steal another kiss from him before responding. “Let me ruin his fucking life first, okay? Pretty please?”

He laughs, pulling you into a hug. “Oh, only since you asked so nicely.”

You’re both giggling as you collapse on the couch together, the dinner already forgotten. That’s how you know he was meant for you. Nothing mattered but him. The world could be burning around you, and Roman Roy could be smiling, and everything’d be fine because he was happy. That meant all was right in the world.

You cuddle up to him, his arm coming to drape over your shoulders. You hook your arms around his waist, tucking your face into his chest.

“You know,” he begins, “with corners and stuff, that’d make you a boxer. Or a wrestler.”

“Wasn’t that your analogy?” you ask, laughing lightly.

“Well, yeah. Doesn’t stop you from being a fuckin’ champion.” His voice wavers, the way it does when he’s on the brink of sleep.

“Fucking cheese ball. Go to bed.”

You both share a long, loud, laugh. It’s far too late at night for this. Apparently, his father was fucking nocturnal and only had meals past ten.

“You know you love it. You love me,” he murmurs groggily, barely still clinging on to consciousness.

“Yeah. I do.”

#roman roy #roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy oneshot #succession #succession hbo #succession fic #succession x reader #wambsgansshoelaces #anon ask #requests open

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thearchercore · 3 months

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As a Lando fan, but first and foremost a Max and Charles fan, I’m quite disappointed in Lando. It’s true what they say, not everyone is happy when you are on top and your real friends show their true colours.

You are right, Max says what he thinks and never filters it. While Charles is a PR King (let’s be honest he’s more of a princess but that’s besides the point) but never once has he thrown shade at Max since they became friends (at least not that I know of)

Now, Daniel is not, has never been and will never be someone about him. Nothing against him, just vibes. But the fact that Max has held him so dear and close to his heart and he goes ahead and throws major shade at Max when Max was being nothing but honest at Vegas then makes sure to hang out with Lando during Winter break the other driver who is Max’s publicly known bestie on the grid (I mean the man even attends P’s birthday parties) anyway I digress. It’s just outright shady and childish.

Max is on another level and not everyone will understand that. True friendship should withstand such challenges. Of course anyone would be jealous and intimidated by such dominance and success but to deny the man like Peter denying Jesus infront of the crowd is just sad. I mean c’mon, did he mean it as a joke? Also was Daniel attempting humour? It’s possible but I can’t see someone like Charles making such weird comments. Even when they were beefing, Charles made it known that him and Max are okay and even though they are not best friends their relationship or hang out outside the paddock (back then things are different now) he still loved racing against Max because they understood each other and how they raced.

It’s actually petty for grown men to belittle their friend because of his success. But what do I know, the sport destroyed a childhood friendship (Nico + Lewis) Maybe only the realest and toughest friendships survive. Viva Charles and Max (whether you ship them or as friends) it’s real and they are always rooting for each other.

Sorry this got long.

yeah, i feel like the difference between daniel's current place in f1 and max's is playing a significant factor. again, max joined RBR when he was essentially still a teenager that was battling with puberty. daniel was there as the mature driver that max looked up to.

now, fast forward to 2024, daniel is fighting for his last chance at f1 after many unsuccessful team moves, and max is much more mature and has 3 WDC titles under his belt. that certainly changes things.

so i'm sure that if for whatever reason rbr kicks out checo and daniel jumps in, their dynamic would be different.

lando, on the other hand, is a different story. @tsarinablogs had a great post where someone suggested "I think Lando couldnt handle his car actually being competitive. Thats what weakened their friendship. It’s easy to be friends when you are driving a slow car, but then the car actually got competitive and he still couldnt beat Max."

again, the truth is -- f1 is a highly competitive environment and everyone will fight for themselves first without a doubt. that's what's happening with daniel and lando. daniel wants that red bull seat, lando wants to beat max. and that is going to be their priority over whatever friendly relationship they may have with max.

on the other hand, there are only 20 drivers in f1 so you have 20 other co-workers who share the same experiences as you. so you will always be closer to them than anyone else because no one would get you that well.

i think what works well currently between max and charles is that no matter how much media tried to put them against each other, they alway showed mutual respect to each other. charles never talked shit about max in press, and the overall vibe they have going on recently is that charles is happy for max's success, and is working hard to gain his own. also their actions speak a lot -- like charles' putting aside ferrari's questionable qatar strategy and rushing to congratulate max on his WDC. or max running to charles to apologise for his mistake in vegas.

their relationship doesn't seem to be definined by their racing results, and their joint racing history also makes them more equal in their own eyes than other drivers.

#charles leclerc #lestappen gate 2023 #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #lestappen gate 2024

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revasserium · 1 year

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the little things (that add up to you) kageyama, hinata, suga, daichi, tsukki

kageyama || he keeps extras of your favorite hairties in his bag, just in case you need them; he always pauses to watch when you put up your hair, thinking to himself how such a mundane thing could mean so much, could take up so much space in his mind, your fingers running through your hair, gathering it up, the soft strands slipping loose to frame your face, your favorite hairtie caught between your lip and your teeth like some inconsequential thing, but he knows -- he knows that it's these moments he'll find tucked away in the pages of his own memories when he gets home, when the lights go out, when it's just him and his own thoughts of you.

hinata || he always buys your favorite flavor of taro milk-bread on the way home; he likes it when you take the first bite, loves the way you smile, unbidden, the happiness bubbling up through you as inevitable as the sunrise, the way you lick your lips and look up at him with those sparkles in your eyes, the way you blush when he laughs, reaching out to wipe at the crumbles that always, always get stuck to your cheek, your lips -- he knows that it's moments like these, the ones he gathers like breadcrumbs on the floor of a heart-break forest, leading him towards a place where he can't turn back without knowing that something inside him will shatter (but only if you leave him, and he doesn't think you will), but he doesn't mind, because he knows that it'll be worth it in the end, just to see you smile.

sugawara || he holds your hand in the hallways, even during the summer months when both your palms are sticky with sweat; he's always loved the feeling of your skin against his, loved the way it makes you blush, even to this day, loves how peoples eyes linger on the pair of you as he walks you to your next class, or to the lunch line, or out to where the gymnasium is, where you'd swing your hands between your bodies and pull him back for a kiss, ask him for one more minute, maybe two, the pair of you lingering like infatuated teens after their first date, unwilling to part at their parents' doors -- he knows that it's moments like these, the ones he cups in the palms of his hands like glass-blown marbles, these are the ones that will matter the most when one day the pair of you look back, holding hands in some distant future, because he knows that he'll never grow tired of the feeling of his hands in yours.

daichi || he lends you his jacket, his mittens, his umbrella, his scarf, even if that means he'll be a little chilly on the way home sometimes; because he's always prepared and you're -- well -- you're working on it, and he can't deny that he likes seeing you in his clothes, the size-difference strangely satisfying, the sight of it scratching some itch inside him he's never realized he had, and then when you return it -- whatever it happens to be -- he knows that it'll smell like you, and he can't lie, he really likes that too -- and he knows it's moments like these, the ones he tucks away in the lining of his jacket, in the stitching of his scarves, that he'll reach for the most, the ones that'll keep him warm on a cold winter's day when he doesn't have you by his side.

tsukki || he has a playlist of songs that you've mentioned you liked, just for himself; because he knows better than anyone else that the music a person likes reveals all their deepest secrets, and finds himself wanting to know all of yours, so he listens to each song, memorizes the lyrics, taps his fingers against the beat and wonders if you did the same the first time you listened, wonders if one day, he were to put a pair of headphones over your ears with a playlist full of all his favorite songs, if your eyes would light up, if your cheeks would flush, if your lips would split into a knowing smile and if you'd already know all the words to sing along -- because he knows that it's moments like these, the private ones he keeps like secret soundtracks, that might one day give him away to you, where you might one day realize that from the moment you met, all his favorite love songs started being about you.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu drabbles #tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x you #sugawara koushi #kageyama tobio #hinata shouyou #haiCUTIES #sawamura daichi #floofy floof floof #my karasuno biases are showing so damn hard yall; im sry i kno i should give the other schools some love LOL #i promise i'll write for non-karasuno peeps soon I PROMISE #but little things by 1d started randomly playing my head and i knew i hAD to write a thing u__u

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macbooth · 10 months

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full of childish whimsy in a hostile fashion tonight so here’s every shakespeare clown i can think of and whether or not i think i’d beat them in a fight

(i do not mean fools i mean clowns. they do not need to be the secret genius of the play. if they are stupid in every way shape or form i am including them here)

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) No chance. Bro’s got that magic and ALSO has a big strong scary fairy king as his bear, like, do not separate them. If I even tried throwing hands at this cunt I’d get torn to shreds and used as glitter dude, I’d be over. 0/10

Nick Bottom (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) I could but I’d feel bad. I also think he’d put up a really solid fight. Like this is out of donkey form, bro was a physical worker. Like I reckon I could win a fight with some of the tradies I’ve seen but I don’t think it’d be easy. Also he’s just really dumb so I would feel a little bad. Donkey form though, I’m running away. Scary as shit. I am afraid of horses though. 6.5/10

Touchstone (As You Like It) Absolutely I could beat the shit out of this man. I hate him so much. Full of hostility towards this fucker. His clothes aren’t even subtle I could find this bitch in the forest no time and hunt him down and rip him to shreds, fuckin court jester doesn’t even have the roughness of the country on his side. 9/10 (-1 point cause he definitely fights dirty but I just hate him so much I’d win)

Jaques (As You Like It) First off he’s absolutely a clown. Second off I’ve played him before so my word is gospel. Third off bro has no fucking chance against me. He’s a podcast bro who thinks I don’t know that Tame Impala is one dude. I’d ask him why we can’t print more money and he would explode instantly and it would be the funniest thing he did with his life. 10/10

Audrey & Corin (As You Like It) I’m lumping these two together cause in the show I did they were one character (and I also played them). I wouldn’t even want to fight these two. And even if I wanted to Audrey would absolutely be able to beat the shit out of me and I would thank her. Our setting was in semi-modern country Australia, that girl would have a shotgun. 2/10

Autolycus (Winter’s Tale) Just like Jaques to me. He might be a little bit harder because he’d change costume and I’d get confused because I have no object permanence but other than that what has he got. Bitterness? Resentment? Bitch so did I when I was 15 grow up experience love. 8/10

Falstaff (Henry IV parts 1 & 2, Merry Wives of Windsor) I don’t actually know about this one but he is very punchable. I feel like he’d let me punch him and I think one punch would be enough for me. I think that would satisfy my urge to punch him. He may be a knight but let’s be honest he’s shit at it so I stand by this. 4/10 (just cause I don’t really give a shit)

The Dromios (Comedy of Errors) I absolutely could beat them in a fight but I would feel So Bad. You see how they’re literally already treated in the play, I wanna give them a break. That being said they’re both kinda dicks but they’re going through it already so I’d wanna give them a breather. I would win though, even if they both were attacking at once. 7/10

Launcelot Gobbo (Merchant of Venice) He’s such a prick but I would be laughing too hard at his name to fight him. Bro’s name is Gobbo. Bro’s name is basically Gobby. Imagine being named Blowjob. I would lose my mind. I would laugh so so hard I would collapse. My heart would fail. Biggest L name out there bro. Launcelot Gobbo oh my god. 3/10

Launce (Two Gentlemen of Verona) Nah man he has an attack dog. I don’t care what breed of dog Crab is in a production I fully believe he would kill for Launce, that’s just their dynamic. I understand them better than anyone else (I have a dog). Also he’s already working for Proteus, is that not punishment enough? 4/10

Speed (Two Gentlemen of Verona) I mean I definitely could fight him. I don’t imagine he’s got much fighting experience. But once again, he has to deal with Valentine which does feel like it would be cruel to inflict more onto him. Like Valentine’s not as bad as Proteus but fuck is he stupid. Also if I accidentally flubbed a punch Speed could absolutely tear me a new asshole with his words and I would sob and cry and literally never recover. 4/10

The Porter (Macbeth) Fuck no. Bro definitely has a knife on him at all times. I can’t explain why I think this I just do. He works night shift, he definitely doesn’t get paid enough for his dog shit job, he would absolutely try to stab me just to spice up his evening without me starting a fight. 1/10

Trinculo (Tempest) Yes. Sorry, you’re Russell Brand? L. I could kick your ass. And he’s like drunk for half the show, and almost fucked a fish. I doubt his judgement is good enough to say the alphabet backwards let alone dodge a punch. He couldn’t even get Caliban to kick my ass (who definitely could by the way) cause Caliban fucking hates him. Bro, failwife to Stephano should pay more. But it doesn’t. 8.5/10

Dogberry (Much Ado About Nothing) Without Verges? Yes. With Verges? No way. Those two are a power couple in the dumbest possible way. He would absolutely try to get me arrested though but I simply would not go to prison. What’s he gonna do? Send me to prison? I’m already not going. 7/10

Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) No chance. Unless Romeo fucked up so bad like he did in the actual play, I would have no chance against this dude. I wouldn’t even want to even if I could. I’m a Benvolio stan first and foremost and a person second you think I’d wanna fight his bestie? Only exception is if it was an actual fight club and not just a pure fight out of hatred. I feel like Mercutio could give Brad Pitt Fight Club Realness, outfits included. I would still lose though. 2.5/10

Don Adriano De Armado (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I reckon I could wreck this dude’s shit. You know that gif where the fuckin dude is doing all these cool sword moves and then he just gets shot? You know the one. I forgot where it’s from but you know the one. That would be this fight. Armado would bust out his flair, his razzle dazzle, his pizzaz, and I would just deck him I think. That’s the power you need in this world, I think. Power of fist to face. Peace and love. <3 8/10

Costard (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I do not think Costard would realise he was being fought even as he was actively getting hit in the face. I know how to say honorificabilitudinitatibus, he doesn’t even have that against me. Bro couldn’t even confuse me with that, I learnt that, like an adult. Anyway yeah I’d kick his ass. 9/10

Holofernes & Sir Nathaniel (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This is the same man to me. I would destroy them both. Fuckin nerds. Flowery ass language nerds. I support gay rights and gay wrongs but the only reason I couldn’t fight those two gay muppets who heckle is cause they’re too far away (in a theatre booth), these two gay muppets who heckle are right in front of me. I’d kick their tweed cladded asses. 10/10

Jaquenetta (Love’s Labour’s Lost) She is just like Audrey to me. I could never bring myself to hurt her. Also she’s pregnant and I feel like it’s fucked up to hit a pregnant woman just for fun. Also she could absolutely wreck my shit. Please wreck my shit Jaquenetta. 0.5/10

Moth (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This little fucker should be an INSTANT knock out but I just know this fucker bites. He’s a shit talking 8 year old? Oh he plays wolves on the playground, I just know it. He plays wolves and he’s definitely been suspended for it, I just know it in my heart. Sure, I could kick him, but he would grab hold of my foot and try to rip it off. We would shake hands and agree to part ways, having met our match. He, who plays wolves, and me, who played fairies, leave the fight with our heads high and respect in our hearts. I am kidding of course but I do think we would tie. 5/10

Lear’s Fool (King Lear) There’s already so much fighting going on, I don’t even think they’d notice if I just started kicking this dude. Not only could I fight him and win, I think I’d get away with it too. I’d win not only physically but socially too. What’s he gonna do? Tell his boss? Bro he’s preoccupied with his whole kingdom crumbling, grow up. 9/10

Lavatch (All’s Well That Ends Well) This is more meta but my hatred of this play would fuel me here. I would fight literally anyone in this play if given the chance, not a joke. I would get in the ring with literally anyone from this play, but honestly, out of them all I weirdly respect Lavatch the most, maybe because he at least knows that he’s a cunt, unlike literally everyone else who Just Suck. I do think he’s probably scrappy though, so I wouldn’t leave unscathed. I also think if he got the upper hand he would be so so awful about it, so I’d really have to fight. 6/10

Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Twelfth Night) Andrew is canonically bad at fighting, and honestly I do not believe Toby would be any better. Love both of these guys but if I had to fight them both at once I think I would be able to just move out of the way and they’d bonk each other on the head like a cartoon. They’re just silly guys. 9/10

Maria (Twelfth Night) Every woman clown could beat my ass. Audrey, Jaquenetta, Maria, they are all so special to me and would all also fucking destroy me. Maria especially cause I just know she is full of hate. You don’t hatch a plan like the Malvolio plan unless there’s something deeply worrying about you. She’s a Scorpio to me. <3 I do love her, she’d demolish me. 0/10

Feste (Twelfth Night) Would actually kill me. -5/10

I know I’ve definitely missed some but uhhh don’t expect me to remember every clown even if I’m neurodivergent about these plays please. <3

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idle-daydreams · 2 months

Note

I don't mind i don't think you take my crazy request anyway like i said before i just want Yandere Demon Chuuya X Female Demon reader because i just want wholesome yandere story so it not a point that you don't follow my request.

Also you don't have to sorry about thing you don't uncomfortable to do, it wasn't you fault.

[A.N.: Hi! Hope you like this!]

Tw: Yandere, implied imprisonment.

“So, what do you think?”

You looked around at the snow covered garden, gleaming silver in the moonlight. It was an ethereal scene, made all the more beautiful by the massive red roses peeking through the snow-covered bushes.

“... roses in winter,” you said, your breath coming out in white puffs. Slowly, you stepped out into the garden, pulling your shawl tighter about yourself. Chuuya was so paranoid about you catching a chill that he almost never let you out, so it was nice to feel the cold on your face.

“I know you like gardening,” Chuuya said, fiddling with the bindings around his torso as he fell into step beside you. He hadn’t bothered to dress warmly, yet he didn’t seem cold. “Figured you’d like to get out of the room.”

You didn’t answer, too mesmerized by the riot of color against the monochromatic backdrop of the garden. You wandered over to the nearest bush, tracing a petal as soft as... well, a rose-petal.

“How are they alive?” you asked. “Is it magic? Can you even do something like that?”

“Oh yeah. Turns out I can.” He shifted in place, looking less like the mighty demon lord that he was and more like a nervous schoolboy. “You do like ‘em, right? I know you planted them outside your... old place.”

“I did.” Ignoring the pang in your heart at the mention of home - there was no point to it, after all - you peered closely at the roses. They were exquisite, each bloom as large as your fist. The garden was alive with their fragrance, almost a testament to their existence. “They all died, though,” you admitted. “You seem to have a better green thumb than I do.”

“Oh no, I didn’t plant them,” Chuuya said. “I got some servants to do it. I just make sure that the roses don’t wither away in the cold. So you can mess about with them all you want without worryin’ about ‘em dying.”

So basically just play about with them like a child.

The words rose to your lips, a retort you would have once made without a second thought. But now, they faded away before the anticipation in Chuuya’s eyes. He truly had made an effort, taken more of an interest in you than anyone ever had your whole life. You pursed your lips, then smiled. “Thank you. The garden is lovely. I like it very much.”

“You do?” Chuuya beamed. “Great!”

You jumped as he threw his arms around you, capturing your lips with his own. You stiffened, pulling away instinctively, but Chuuya’s arms were like a vice, gripping you as tightly as he continued to kiss you in a passionate frenzy. You finally allowed yourself to melt in his arms, eyes fluttering shut as your hands moved to his shoulders of your own accord. When he finally pulled away you blinked, breathless. Chuuya grinned back, equally red-faced.

“I’m glad you like ‘em,” he said.

Your face heated up. “Be careful,” you said weakly, picking at a stray bloom pressed between your bodies. “We’re hurting it.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry.” Chuuya pulled away a little, and you gladly followed suit, pretending to care for the flowers to put some space between you two. Your mind whirled with being with him around him; he was so entirely handsome it was hard to remember at times that he was a demon.

Chuuya, however, leaned forward, cocking his head to peer at your face. “Don’t hide from me,” he said. “They’re still nothing compared to you. You’re the prettiest flower here, [Y/N].”

“Ah.” You lowered your head even more, trying to hide just how flustered you were. “That’s not - you’re too kind. I can’t believe you did all this.”

“Why not? Anything for you.”

“No, I mean - all this.” You waved your arms around. “All this. It’s... very thoughtful.”

Chuuya pouted. “You think I can’t be thoughtful?”

“No, no,” you said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. But... you are a demon, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You don’t-” You tried to pull your foot in your mouth- “act like it.”

To your relief, Chuuya chuckled. “What’s a demon supposed to act like?” he said.” You want me to be all crazy and violent?” He leaned in with a smirk. “Aren’t I wild enough for you?”

You cursed yourself for the erratic pounding of your heart. “I meant, still, demons are supposed to be, you know, demonic and all that.”

“I know.” He sobered up a little, looking somewhat abashed. “I try to hold myself to a higher standard than the others. Some of the other demons can be awful.”

“Will I be safe around them?”

“Like hell am I sharing you with anyone!”

You raised a brow. “So you intend to keep me locked away forever?”

“If I have to,” he said immediately. “I’m not risking anything happening to you.”

Your heart withered a little at this, the reality of your situation rearing its ugly head again. Chuuya seemed to notice your disappointment, for he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Don’t worry, [Y/N],” he said. “It won’t come to that, I promise. I know how difficult it is for you right now, but I’ll make sure everything is fine in the end I promise I’ll make things better. You just have to trust me.”

“I just don’t want to live like this,” you whispered, not meeting his gaze. “I can’t live alone.”

“You’re not alone,” he said. “You have me. You’ll always have me. I promise you; things will get better. I’ll make them better. At one time you hated me, right? And now you don’t anymore.”

That much was true enough. You didn’t hate Chuuya anymore. You didn’t love him - you weren’t sure what you felt about him - but your initial resentment had faded.

Maybe, just maybe, there was something there. Like roses blooming in a frozen garden, your love had begun in twisted circumstances, but maybe it could survive.

Maybe, one day, it could even become something real.

#yandere chuuya #yandere bsd #yandere imagines #bsd x reader #yandere nakahard chuuya #yandere bungou stray dogs #yandere x reader #yandere #shutendoji!chuuya au

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thefirstlioveyou · 4 months

Text

maybe this is more fanfic-y (and yes this ties with lettergate and that sus st writers tweet), but imagine s5 will walking in the woods, and he grows familar with where they’re at - near where castle byers was at.

he begins looking to find the destroyed pile of castle byers, just out of pure curiosity. he was expecting it to be all blown away by now from the cold and windy winter of 1985 he’d probably missed. but when he finds it… he finds it to be put together. well, not exactly how it was before - far from that. but, there was some sort of effort made by someone. couldn’t be just anyone. why would anyone care for something like this?

he gently rests a hand on the top, kneeling to sneak a peak inside, then falls an unsecure stick. his eyes following the stick, a bit buried, but noticable. he grabs it and opens it up.

the paper seems to have been crumbled before.

“dear will,

i’m sorry i hurt you like this. when you left, i couldn’t keep thinking about this. it felt like something wasn’t fixed. i never got to apologize for what i said that day when we were talking about el and the party, about how you don’t like girls. that was way out of line of me, and i didn’t mean it. i sounded just like the assholes that always bullied you i bet.

i guess i was just mad at myself. that whole summer, everything changed into something i didn’t like it. i was trying so hard to fit in with everyone else. lucas had max and maybe i just felt left out. did you ever feel like you were just trying to like things because people say you’re supposed to? i don’t like having a girlfriend. that makes me so weird, maybe crazy. but, i’m telling you this because you’re the only one that can accept my craziness, and because i lied to you and you deserve the truth - i can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s driving me crazy. i feel so wrong, i feel like i’m making a mistake. it should be el that makes me feel like this - any girl. but i don’t want a girlfriend, i don’t want to be popular, i don’t want things to change. i want to be with you playing dnd forever. i want you to be by my side forever. i don’t want to lose you like that again.

anyway i think you’ll like how i renovated castle byers. sorry i couldn’t get it done the way it probably was before, running on memory here. but you mean so much to me i just couldn’t not do anything and it’s been killing me just letting it be. hope this is gonna at least last until whenever you come back. winter’s gonna be strong this year.

love, mike”

will’s just… crying, shaking. he’s a jittery mess as his heart pounds from true happiness. he folds the letter and puts it in his pocket. he felt something had been repaired in his heart. it was at its fullest, had it not been in many, many years.

he sits inside the castle smiling to himself

#AAAAAAGHHHHH #lettergate save me #lettergate #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things

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twstbookclub · 1 year

Text

Please Look at Me

Summary: Can you stop calling Epel cute? Can you not look at and gush over him like a cute toddler? Please, just look at him as someone you can love for once. POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Fluff, Romance, Two Idiots in Love, Unrequited was actually Requited Feelings, Angry Epel Felmier and his Country Accent, Abusing the word Cute, MC is a bit Silly and Goofy like that Word count: 1,790

“I wish I was as cute as you, Epel.”

The Pomefiore freshman’s eyebrows rose so high that they disappeared behind his fringe. Epel turned to you in disbelief. Sat beside him on a stone bench in the courtyard, you fiddled with your popsicle stick as you stared at the clouds. Your eyes absent-mindedly drifted from one cloud to another. Epel could see flecks of gold in them as the scattered rays of sunset gave you an ethereal glow. Your lashes brushed your cheeks when you blinked, and your lips turned a bit redder after you gnawed on it.

Epel shook his head. He shouldn’t get distracted by how pretty you are when you literally said you wanted to be cute like him.

“What in tarnation made ya say that? And I ain't cute.”

You huffed, propping your elbow on your lap, and placed your chin in your free hand. Epel noticed the frown before he even processed the next words that came out of your mouth.

“Yes, you are! Literally, everyone mistakes you for a girl, and they start liking you for how adorable you are!”

Epel didn’t know whether it was a compliment or an insult. Judging by your pinched eyebrows and pout, you were praising him for his looks. He leaned back on his arms and tilted his head at you, as his gesture to elaborate.

“I…” You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “For once, I just want someone to look at me like that. Just someone who would like me at first glance, or think that I’m attractive enough to flirt with.”

I do, Epel thought. I always have, so why can’t you see me?

“Ya say that like it’s a bad thing,” Epel gritted out. His harsh grip on his popsicle stick made his knuckles white, and the poor stick was on the verge of breaking into splinters. “Ya don’t need someone ta complete ya, y’know.”

“But I want to,” you sighed, wistful eyes brimming with longing. “I want someone to cuddle with me at night. I want someone to hold me close and exchange sweet nothings with them. I want someone to have arcade dates with. I want to make dinner with them, then eat together while talking about our day. I want to experience all of those moments with a partner at least once.”

So, why can’t you do them with me? Epel couldn’t find his voice. He settled with, “Maybe someday, you’ll find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Then, ya can experience all that mushy lovey-dovey stuff.”

You snort, turning to Epel with the grin that held his heart in a vice grip. “I swear you don’t want anything to do with romance because of what you say about it.”

I don’t mind it if it’s with you.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Epel stood up from the stone bench and held out his hand towards you. “We can’t have Vil hounding us for staying out past curfew.”

“You mean, Vil hounding you. I’m the Ramshackle prefect, remember?” The grin never left your face, and Epel wished he could just kiss you right now. “I can make curfew any time I like.”

As he felt your hand softly squeeze his, warmth spread from his fingertips to his entire being. Like a soft, fleece blanket in front of a gentle fire during winter in Harveston. It reminded him of home. It felt like home with you. Epel wanted to be with you, if you let him. He wanted to do all of those things with you and more. He’d do anything for you, even if it meant the world turned against you two.

For now, he’d settle with being your cute, effeminate friend who’d roundhouse kick anyone who looked at you wrong.

The next few days were the most dreadful ones Epel had. His conversation with you that day never left his mind. It haunted him every time he saw you glance at every passing student in interest. Hell, you even looked at the Vil Schoenheit as if you were considering dating the strict and demanding housewarden. Great Seven, no. He’d rather die than see you hanging off of that royal pain in the ass.

Every glance of yours was another drop of frustration for Epel. The proverbial cup was dangerously close to spilling over. It didn’t help that most of his competitors are literally taller and bigger: two things that Epel aspires to be, but cannot be. You could pick anyone, and still deserve the happiness they’d give you. Epel, though? He didn’t deserve you. You deserve someone big and strong enough to protect you whenever you, yourself, couldn’t; someone who could drop everything to cheer you up. Epel isn’t any of those. He’s tiny and dainty and cute.

“Ah, you’re seriously so cute, Epel!” you cried, hugging him after he handed you another popsicle for your Thursday hang-out. It’s been a full week since that day, and you never stopped gushing about how cute he was.

It was that vile word again. Cute. Was that how you saw him? Was that all he’ll ever be to you?

“You know,” you hummed. “I think… I found someone already.”

Epel froze, his popsicle melting in his grasp. The harsh heat of the sun felt blistering on his skin, yet his hands grew as frigid as snow. The forgotten treat started dripping onto the ground as the sound echoed in his ears.

Drip.

“What?” Epel gaped, lips slightly parted in surprise. “Since when?”

“Since a few days ago,” you hummed with a smile softly curling the corners of your lips.

Drip.

“It’s only been a week,” Epel exasperatedly claimed, desperately holding himself together. “You found someone already? Isn’t this happening too fast?”

The gentle smile on your face never left. “I mean, yeah, but… I’m sure about who I want to be with.”

Drip. Drip.

“Do I know them?” Epel whispered, barely heard among the chirps of the birds and the rustle of the leaves in the breeze. Somehow, you heard him through it all. He just hoped you didn’t hear the sound of his heart starting to crack and break.

You laughed, smiling so wide that your eyes narrowed into crescents. Epel grew jealous of the person in your mind that made you smile so happily. “Of course you do!”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Oh.” Epel stared at the grass peeking through the crevices of the cobblestone. His mind grappled for something—anything—to ground him back to reality. He’s slipping. He’s losing. Epel should have taken the poison of rejection over the sting of losing you to someone else.

Your smile felt like a slap to his face. What once brought him so much joy and warmth filled him with dread and misery. Epel drifted in and out of consciousness, only catching bits and pieces of what you were prattling on about.

It was when he heard the word cute again that something inside him spilled over into tears and screams.

“Stop calling me cute!” Epel snapped, abruptly standing to face you. The popsicle fell to the ground with a splat, melting into dirt and stone. The world stood still and held its breath while Epel lost his own to his pent-up frustration.

“I feel like you only see me as—as a cute lil’ kid,” the petite freshman struggled with his words, but he was too afraid to stop lest he lose the sudden courage to tell you the truth. “Cute, tiny Epel. Dainty, harmless Epel. Well, that’s enough of that!

I can cuddle you. I can—I’ll hold ya close and tell ya everything I like ‘bout you. I’ll take ya to the arcade and win y’a plushie for our date. I’ll be the one to make dinner and talk about our day over the table. Just—see me as someone who can be with you!

I love you, dammit!” Epel yelled, chest rising and falling from spilling his heart out. You stared, eyes wide and mouth agape. He noticed how you clutched your uniform coat tightly, right above your heart. How you had forgotten your own popsicle that the orange juice stuck to your fingers and trailed down your palm. How you dropped the stick to reach a hand out to him. Although, you retreated when you saw the mess from your ruined treat.

“Epel, I…”

Oh no, Epel thought. Oh hell no. He did not just ruin his friendship with you.

“I’m so sorry—”

“You dingus,” you laughed, but tears started pooling in the corners of your eyes. “It’s you. It’s always been you. Why do you think I gush about you being cute all the time? How I always hug you whenever I could? I was about to confess until you beat me to it.”

Oh. Epel robotically sat beside you again and buried his tomato-red face in his hands. Oh.

“Oh Seven above,” he muttered, voice muffled by his hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“Yeah, but you’re my idiot.” Epel felt your hand, the non-sticky one, slide into his. Your fingers found themselves intertwined with his, warm and accepting. He squeezed your hand, still too embarrassed to look you in the eye after his outburst. Despite his shame, his heart still jumped at the affection in your voice. It was reserved for him. Just him. Epel couldn’t ask for anything more at that point.

“I kept dropping hints, but I thought you didn’t want to date anyone since… Well, you always call it mushy, cringe, and cliché. I tried to forget my feelings for you, but I just can’t,” you caressed the back of his hand with your thumb. Thoughtfully looking at your joined hands, you continued, “Stay with me? For as long as possible?”

“Always,” Epel replied, squeezing your hand and sliding his thumb over your knuckles. “You bet I’ll make you the happiest person alive. I swear it.”

Your smile, wobbly and wide, said more than enough. Epel felt the brush of your lips on his cheek. Light as a feather. Gentle as a warm summer breeze. The kiss lingered for what felt like hours, and he wished that you two could stay like this forever.

Your lips left the spot on his cheek, searing and begging for more of your kisses. Epel looked at you, who leaned back and laughed at his wide, doe eyes and red cheeks and parted lips.

“I’m counting on it, cutie. You better not disappoint me.”

Epel smirked, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. With his cheeks still rosy red, he pulled you close and grabbed your chin to look into your eyes.

“Then, I’ll just make sure you’re always looking at me, darlin’.”

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onsunnyside · 1 year

Note

Persistence 2 & 3 🤤 with our Captain Steve Rogers please!!

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark alpha!frat boy!Steve Rogers x omega!sorority!reader [Captain’s Legacy]

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | dark themes and elements, typical HCV warnings, manipulation, shared sex tape aftermath (without consent).

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | An Arcadia-Kappa party brings your worst nightmare.

Yandere Prompts: P is for... Persistence 2. “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth. No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.” 3. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

𝗪/𝗖 | 791

𝗔/𝗡 | i didn’t know if you meant a steve au, but i just wrote something for captain’s legacy instead !! consider this a peek into the future. i wouldn't call him a yandere but this is dark alpha steve from HCV, so as mean and manipulative as always.

The eerie silence shatters with a familiar deep voice and your phone falls to the floor, an awful crack filling the air. “The buses don’t run this late, I thought you would’ve known that.” He glances around the empty street, the yellow lights dimly glowing, barely illuminating the sidewalk or closed shops. It’s late, long since people have retired to their homes and cozy beds—as you should be. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find you?”

You can’t answer, frozen where you stand at the deserted bus stop with your haphazardly packed bags. The oxygen gets thinner the closer he gets, and soon you’re trembling and hiccuping into your hands, the mere sound of his voice brings back the waves of humiliation.

“You didn’t even stay for the movie.”

“Movie? Is that what you’re calling it?” You scoff. Flashes of your nude and vulnerable body come rushing back with shame hot on their tail. There you were, plastered on the big screen for everyone (only the Arcadia assholes) to see, ridicule, guilt, and laugh at.

“I was in it too. Don’t you think I feel bad?”

“No! I don’t, because that’s what you wanted! You always said you’d show people but…”

“You didn’t believe me.” Steve finished like it was the simplest thing in the world and didn’t bring you to the ground right then and there.

You fought that weakness in your knees, willing yourself to stand upright for as long as you could. “I-I can’t do this anymore—” His features distort when tears pool in your eyes, “I want to go home, please—let me go.”

“You aren’t thinking straight, baby. Look at yourself.”

Your gaze drops to your feet, sockless in your boots and your pyjama pants wet from the snow. The winter breeze sinks through your thin sweater and the cruel December air prickles along your skin, almost as painful and unrelenting as the aching in your chest.

“Why can’t you just let me leave?”

He reaches for you but hesitates when you flinch, “Why?” He echos, “I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

Your heart swells, soaking up every ounce of sweetness in his words. You starved for it, wept and longed for it, any smidge of love, devotion, appreciation or want—the very things you were denied as a child. And it’s coming from the man who has hurt you the most.

But then he ruins it, tilting your chin up and forcing you to meet his eyes. “No matter where you run, I’ll catch you.”

You try to push him away, but his hand grips your throat. He doesn’t squeeze or jerk you around, he holds you there, daring you to do something. “You—You said you wouldn’t show anyone.”

“And, I didn’t.” He promises, rubbing his fingers on your gland, “If I did, the whole school would’ve seen it. Not just Arcadia and Kappa.”

Perhaps the next time you try to run away, you’ll remember just how many people have seen that little naughty film. Tonight was only the beginning, and if you didn’t clean up your act soon, the whole college would know how desperate Kappa’s legacy really was.

“Don’t you believe me, sweetheart? I’ve done so much for you,” the list is endless, “I love you. Why would I ruin all of what we have just to seem cool in front of my friends?”

Steve was remarkably intelligent and friendly with the professors, and they’d do anything to keep the star football captain happy, but he hasn’t only helped you academically, your new clothes and laptop are prime examples of that. And you were happy—you are happy, right?

“Doesn’t that seem dumb? You’re my baby and you’ve already had such a tough day. I wouldn’t hurt you like this.” He lies straight through his teeth, wrapping your pretty head in false security. “It was Bryce, he took it from my room and thought it would be funny to play in front of everyone.”

“I can’t go back… I won’t.” You shake your head, feeling hot streams down your cheeks. It pains you to seek comfort in his touch. His presence and warmth wash over you, reviving those confusing feelings that occupy your mind every hour of every day. Even now, when you wanted nothing to do with him, they were as bright as ever.

“The guys are talking to him right now.” Steve exhales, tugging you close. You fall into his chest easily, weeping into his sweater. “He’s never gonna hurt you again, I promise.” One by one, he swings your bags over his shoulder and gently takes your hand, as if you could shatter if he breathed too hard. “Let’s go home, omega. It’s too late for you to be out.”

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sunlessea · 2 months

Text

" — does it scare you?" he would've asked if it bothered him, but instead, he takes a more pointed approach ... because despite the question itself, he supposes he already knows the answer. silas is hardly secretive, not at this point in their relationship, at any rate. he may be enigmatic to anyone else in london, but winter can't get him to stop pouring his heart out. and oh, has he tried. "that my worst nightmare is the idea of living forever."

@londonfallen / silas

#here #simp #londonfallen #` ✞ winter. ⁞ you can’t love anyone‚ because that would mean you have a heart.#` ✞ silas & winter. ⁞ noyer dans un soupire‚ reste à mes cotés... jai pu sentir son cœur vibrer à cent à l'heure.

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cricket-reader · 11 months

Text

Safe and Sound

Summary: Bucky finds you. Everything goes wrong so quickly (yet again). Can Bucky forgive himself for something he blames himself for?

Warnings: language, canon level violence, death, kidnapping, captive, torture, injuries, Bucky’s self-hatred/negative thoughts, fluff

Word Count: 1830

Prompt: "At least it can't get any worse." | Stairs | Concussion | Hammer

A/N: Day 16 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Part One

Bucky swears up and down that he’s losing his mind.

When he went to find you in the rubble and ruin of the small restaurant, you weren’t there. He practically tore the place apart looking for you before remembering the necklace he gave you. Anyone else would have deemed it controlling. And in any other circumstances, Bucky would have to agree. Giving your significant other a tracking necklace is a shitty and controlling thing to do. That is unless you were a POW for an extremist group hell bent on making your life suck.

And that is exactly what he is, unfortunately. So instead of ripping him a new one like most people would if the person they had only been dating for a few months decided to get them a fucking tracker, you were willing to hear him out. Right now, he thanks every god above you were willing to listen.

He doesn’t even want to know the lengths that Hydra will go to make you suffer for making the mistake of loving him. If he can just get you home safe, everything will be fine.

He hops on his motorcycle and drives to the spot your tracker is. Worries claw at his brain. What if they discarded the necklace? What if this is a set up? What if he doesn’t make it in time? He forces himself to push those thoughts to the back of his mind.

Worrying won’t save you. Worrying won’t bring you back. He can’t let his emotions get the better of him.

The man that had been delivering punches to your gut and slapping you around froze upon hearing a rumbling sound. Knife in hand, he frowns. “I guess this means we don’t get to finish what we’ve started. Bummer.”

He actually has the nerve to sound disappointed. He sets the knife down along with the other torture devices he had one of his goons bring—which to your horror includes a pair of pliers, a hammer, and many different types of sharp objects. You hear him yell at the men watching to prepare for the Winter Soldier.

You would have corrected him had it been any other circumstance. He is not the Winter Soldier. He is Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. A man worthy of much more respect than it seems they’re willing to give him.

You see your boyfriend stomp down the creaking stairs. He’s pissed. You definitely don’t envy the men surrounding you.

“Let them go, Warrenson.” Bucky’s voice calm and collected, not betraying any emotion. He hasn’t looked at you which you figure is probably a good thing. You don’t want him to lose his cool just because you’ve gotten a good beating.

“We will. As long as you come peacefully in return. Hydra wants their Soldier back.”

Bucky clenches his jaw. He knew that someday you’d be used as leverage. This is why he should never have agreed to go on a date with you. This is why he doesn’t deserve happiness or love. This is why you are better off without him ruining your life. He destroys everything he touches with his dark, infected soul. Nothing good comes from knowing Bucky Barnes.

“I’ll do it,” he mutters. The heart wrenching protest from you begs him to look your way. You sound destroyed and distraught. No, he can’t look at you. It will demolish any and all of his resolve—what’s left of it anyway.

“Bucky, no! Don’t do this, please! No! I’m not worth it, okay?”

His heart shatters like the most fragile glass or porcelain, his soul crushed with the weight of a thousand suns. How could you say that you aren’t worth it. He’d burn the world for you.

“Shut that bitch up!” a man orders. A sharp throbbing pain erupts at the back of your head. You cry out, and Bucky loses all of his resolve. No one fucking hurts his babydoll and gets away with it. No one.

Bodies dropped like flies in the blink of an eye. Now you have always known that Bucky is skilled, but… well, let’s just say you are surprised.

He rushes over to you and releases you from your restraints. He looks over your body, relief nearly palpable to see that you had no major visible injuries. He had seen the hammer and pliers along with a plethora of knives. He’s just glad he got here in time because if he didn’t… he doesn’t want to even think of what they could’ve done to you.

You saw the far off look in Bucky’s eyes. You knew he is probably coming up with some way to blame himself for all of this. Your hands reach to grab his face. His eyes refocus on you, feeling your gentle hands with their delicate touch. You smile at him, not paying any mind to the throbbing of your skull.

“I’m okay, Buck, it’s fine.”

He frowns. His brows furrow deeply. Nothing about this is fine. He’s sure that your ribs are coloured purple and he can hear a sight slurring in your voice.

“Baby? I need you to tell me if anything is hurting real bad. Did they hit your head real bad?”

“Hmm?” You think for a bit. Maybe they did, you’re not really sure anymore. “I think so?”

“How does your head feel?”

“Mmm… kinda like someone is takin’ a hammer to it. It hurts, Buck… I wanna go t’sleep.”

“No, no, no, stay awake for me, c’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”

He hauls you up onto unsteady feet. You kinda just wanna stay there, maybe take a quick little nap. That should be fine, right? But Bucky told you not to. You frown. This is a dilema.

You stumble your way up the stairs and say, “At least it can’t get any worse.”

He smiles, or at least tries to… it’s more like a grimace, at your attempt to brighten the situation.

Turns out you spoke too soon, however.

The stairs groan under you before both you and Bucky are plunging through the wood. You hear a high pitched scream. Then you realise it’s you making that god awful noise.

Bucky curses under his breath as the wood gives way to both your weight. He wraps his body around yours, taking the brunt of the fall. He can’t let you get hurt more.

The wind is knocked out of him as his back collided with the ground. A piece of wood stabs through his torso, and he grits his teeth as you come down on top of him.

“Baby?” His voice is breathy. You whimper, terrified out of your wits. “I’m so sorry, doll. Can… can you reach in my pocket? Grab my phone and dial… dial Sam.”

You reach down and accidentally hit the wood post that’s sticking out of him. His groan is so guttural, even in your haze, your brain panics. You try to look down, but Bucky can’t let that happen. You’re only going to panic more. “Keep your eyes on me, m’kay?”

You nod, instantly regretting it. “Babe?” Bucky questions, seeing you wince.

“’m fine,” you insist, lowering your hand, being more careful this time around.

You make contact with the brick that he calls his phone and pull up Sam’s number. You make a joke about not knowing how to work the old thing, but Bucky thinks you’re serious. He goes to grab the phone, but you indignantly pull it away from his grasp. “Was a joke, Barnes. I’m perfectly capable…”

You were gonna say more, but it is so much work to talk. Maybe you should have convinced Bucky to let you nap. Then you wouldn’t be on top of him in a hole under some stupid stairs.

“Bucky? What’s up? I thought you were on a date.”

“I’s me Sammy,” you giggle. Why are you giggling? Nothing makes sense anymore.

The man on the other end of the phone groans. “Please tell me he didn’t get you plastered. Did you try to out drink him? Cause I tried that once… that was not a fun morning.”

“No… we’re under the stairs, Sammy.”

“Under the stairs? What stairs? Why—“

“You ask too many questions,” you mumble, half of the sentence jumbling together. Black starts to creep into the corners of your vision. “Think I gonna take nap now.”

Sam furrows his brows, hearing Bucky yell at you to stay awake. “Sam! Listen to me, you need to come help we’re both injured—“

You gasp, “Bucky hurt?”

He can’t stop you from looking down. Your gasp is so loud he can barely hear Sam muttering to him over the phone.

“Doll, hand the phone to me,” he demands. Tears form in your pretty eyes, seeing the wood sticking out of your boyfriend.

“But.. you hurt.”

He sighs, “Yes, but I need the phone so someone can save us.”

You nod, tears dripping down your face. Your heart is beating like a hummingbird is in your chest. You press your hand against it, crying out in pain. Your head hurts so bad. So does your stomach and ribs. You just want to go to sleep.

You don’t remember exactly when Sam showed up. But he is here now with a full team of firefighters and medics. The firefighters extract you both, though it takes more work to get Bucky out.

The next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital. Sam somehow convinced the medical staff to let you and Bucky share a room, knowing that you both need each other.

When Bucky wakes up, he is panicking. His panic settles when he sees you safe and sound in bed. His gut twists seeing the ugly purple bruises on your face. This is all his fault. He should have never got himself involved with you. Your life was better without him in it. He ruined you like he ruins everything.

“Bucky?”

He focuses on your voice. Tears blurring your figure. “Yeah?” He doesn’t deserve to call you any pet names. He doesn’t deserve to call you his. He doesn’t deserve you.

“You can stop that negative self-thinking right now.” You glare at him.

“But—“

“No buts!” you interrupt. “I’m too selfish to let you leave me cause you’re scared you’re gonna hurt me. To be honest, I’ll be more hurt if you leave me than if someone were to kidnap me again. My abandonment issues can’t take much more, so if you–”

“You deserve better–“

“Don’t give me that bullshit. I want you god dammit! Why can’t you understand that I love you?”

His eyes grow wide at your outburst. And your words. That was the first time you said you loved him. He thinks he could get addicted.

“You… you love me?”

“Yes! I didn’t think you were that oblivious! I’m in love with you, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Tears form in his eyes. “I… I love you too…”

You smirk at him. “You better.”

Bucky Taglist: @harleycao

Story Taglist: @cjand10 @marvel-stories33 @casa-boiardi @drunkbirdbug

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teaandransacking · 1 year

Note

okay hear me out; the concept of five times… and the one time.. with lockwood and reader, where they are in a secret relationship, maybe reader could be kipps sister to give a reasons why they can’t tell anyone. and then just five times (or less idk) they were nearly caught and the one time they were?? i think that would be amazing, also i’m a sucker for forbidden romance trope so…

I love this. I hope I did it justice for you.

Words: 1400 ~ Content: angst, kissing, forbidden relationships

clandestine meetings and longing stares

This is a public place. We’re not doing anything wrong.

It’s true. The Archives is a public place. Where people go to study.

Except that’s not what you and Lockwood are doing.

Not that you’re defiling the books here or anything. You’re just stealing a moment together.

Towards the back of the first floor, in the stacks of the Ancient History section, where hardly anyone goes, Lockwood has you pressed up against rows and rows of leatherbound books.

He’s so close that you can see tiny flecks of gold in his dark brown eyes, make out a few stray hairs on his jaw that he missed shaving this morning.

You settle your hand over his heart, feel the rhythm of it beating.

You’d like to do this in public. Hold his hand in front of everyone; claim him as yours.

There’s just one problem: Quill Kipps is your big brother, and if he found out, there’d be hell to pay.

Lockwood’s nowhere near good enough for you, he always mutters.

And isn’t Anthony’s life hard enough already? An orphan by the age of 6, and responsible for Lucy and George (not that they need taking care of) at 17, he has worries galore without adding sneaking about with you to the list.

But he loves you. You feel it in his hand at the small of your back, hear it in the timbre of his buttery smooth voice when he says your name.

“Lockwood-” you begin, but he presses a gentle finger to your lips.

“Shh. Listen.”

And sure enough, you hear it. The swish of rapiers against clothes. Other agents are here.

You spring apart, you tucking yourself around a marble pillar just in time to see your brother approach.

You’re safe.

This time.

—- ---

The second time, it’s George who saves your bacon. He’s known for weeks; he was the first one to figure it out, because of course he was.

The three of you are in a little cafe a stone’s throw from Covent Garden, drinking tea and sharing cake. Lockwood feeds you bites from his own fork and you reciprocate, while George playfully rolls his eyes about how sickeningly domestic it is.

You’re laughing and brushing a bright pink angel cake crumb from Lockwood’s mouth when George suddenly knocks his cup of tea right into your lap, and when your gaze cuts to him he mouths: Go.

A second later, you hear your brother’s voice at the cafe counter and you disappear into the bathroom.

—- ---

The third time is a very close call.

Lockwood’s shimmied up the tree outside your window. Your heart jumps into your throat every time he does this, especially because it’s usually after dark.

When he taps on your window, you let him in right away. He’s windswept and his skin is cold from the winter air. He smells of crisp fallen leaves and earl grey tea, and you kiss the confident smile off his face.

“Lockwood,” you say when he’s safely seated on your bed. “We have to stop this.”

He tugs you close, pulling you between his legs so your back is to his front. “Don’t ask that of me. Please.”

You turn and kiss him. “No. I mean, sneaking around. Quill will have to just deal. I mean, we face terrifying Visitors on the daily, but him finding out you and I are together is worse? I don’t buy it.”

“He hates me,” Lockwood murmurs, tangling his fingers with yours. He sighs. “And maybe he’s right. You can do better.”

You twist in his arms. “You shut up right now. You’re the best person I know.” He still looks so sombre, so you add, to make him laugh, “Except George. Of course.”

“Except George,” he agrees, but his seriousness is for show now, and the little glimmer of happiness on him makes your heart soar.

He leans down for another kiss, and his mouth is delectable, and you turn fully in his embrace to line your bodies up.

You’ll never get enough of him, you think as you slide your hands into his hair, pulling him closer still. Your tongues tangle, and when he breaks the kiss you lean back so he can drop kisses down your neck.

The sound of your name from outside the door makes you go rigid.

It’s your brother.

He knocks. “Are you in there?”

“Shit!” You breathe.

You practically push Lockwood off the bed. “Hide. Hide!”

He scrambles under the bed and you stuff your quilt in behind him just as Kipps opens the door to find you reclining on bed with your over-ear headphones on.

“Would you knock?” You exclaim.

He frowns. “Sorry. I - why is your window open? Aren’t you freezing?”

—---

The fourth time, everyone’s in the dark - literally.

You’re all working together, Lucy, Lockwood and George, and Kipps and his crew, including you. The basement of the creepy old church is silent around you. You only have the one torch, but Kipps wants to survey the space without light at first, to get the lay of the land.

By some divine providence, you’ve ended up crouching next to Lockwood, and you startle when he takes your hand, only to relax when you feel his familiar rapier-callused palm.

You don’t dare to speak, but you rest your shoulder against his.

His fingers start to move on the flat of your palm, and you’re confused for a second until you realise that he’s tracing letters on to your skin, with full stops in between to demarcate the words.

Love.

You.

It makes your heart swell as you imagine him saying the words, imagine his gaze holding yours, strong and sincere.

And then Bobby loses his nerve and switches his torch on, and all hell breaks loose, and the moment is lost.

—--

The fifth time, you don’t even try to hide it.

It’s the aftermath of a huge battle. Several Type Twos. Not enough agents.

When the fog from the salt and smoke bombs clear, Lockwood’s lying on the ground a few feet away, next to your brother. You crawl over, see your brother stirring, but Lockwood isn’t.

Desperate, your heart clenching, you kneel by his prone form, cupping his face with both hands.

“Lockwood. Anthony,” you beseech softly.

Kipps sits up, but you ignore him. You settle your fingers on Lockwood’s pulse point.

It’s sluggish, but it’s there.

Relief makes you weak as Lucy, George and Bobby crowd around.

“He’s just playing-” Kipps begins.

“Shut up,” you snap.

He recoils but says nothing else.

“Lockwood, wake up!” You plead, patting his face.

Around you, Lucy and George look stricken and pale.

You wait for what seems like an eternity, but then Lockwood lets out a little cough.

“Help me sit him up,” you tell your brother, and to his credit, he responds right away, and between you you prop Lockwood up against Kipps’ chest.

“You’d better not die,” Kipps mutters. “My sister will never be happy again.”

Your gaze flits to your brother’s face.

He rolls his eyes. “I’ve seen the way you two look at each other. Neither you or Lockwood are as clever as you think you are.”

Lockwood’s eyes flutter open at that moment. “Good to hear that normal service has resumed, Kippy,” he groans.

You lean in and kiss his dear face. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been thrown around like a ragdoll.” But he smiles, and some of that Lockwood bravado lights up his eyes. “But getting to kiss you in front of everyone just might be all I need to recover.”

You laugh and kiss him again. Kipps makes a face, but doesn’t protest.

“You don’t mind?” You ask, still cuddling in close to Lockwood.

“Hard to mind when he saved my arse literally ten minutes ago.”

“Aww,” Lockwood coughs, still weak. “Kippy and I are having a moment.”

Kipps shoves Lockwood off him. “As long as you never, ever refer to us having a moment again, we’re good.”

The whole hang of you walk home together, you and Lucy supporting Lockwood between you, and, you think:

We’ll be all right.

#tumblr askbox #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #anthony lockwood fanfiction

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sl-newsie · 5 months

Text

Snow Day (Carlos de Vil x Silvermist Daughter) *Christmas Special* 🎄

'Can I request a Carlos descendants holiday fic with friends to lovers/everybody knows but them tropes? But the reader is an AK, adopted daughter of Silvermist.’ Here we go!

“No! Cut it out, Elvin!” I shout as I sprint through the icy wind. “You know I don’t like the cold!”

The white-blonde boy behind me jumps up to lean off a lamppost. “What’s the matter? Too afraid to have fun?”

I give an annoyed huff and hug my cape around me tighter. “Just because you’re the son of Jack Frost doesn’t mean you have to make my life a living nightmare with your pranks! Now for the last time, leave me alone!”

In a final effort I let out a water blast that sends Elvin flying into a snowbank, then dash down the street to hide inside Miss Muffet’s Bakery.

“Oh- Sylvia! Hi! What’s going on-?!”

In my haste I almost run into a familiar face, though this is one face I am always excited to see!

“Shh!” I hold up a hand to silence Carlos. “I’m hiding!”

His eyes widen. “Oh!” He joins me behind the cookie display. “May I ask from whom?” Carlos whispers back.

“Ugh. It’s Elvin Frost. Son of Elsa and Jack Frost, and an icy pain in my side. He’s visiting from Arendelle, and has become the reason why I hate snow days.”

“Hate snow days?” Carlos laughs. “How could anyone hate snow days? I mean, look around!” He gestures to the billowing snow swirling around the window. “It’s so- so…”

“Magical?”

“Exactly!”

Ever since Carlos came to Auradon last summer, I’ve always been fond of his childlike energy. Not many kids in Auradon appreciate the little things like he does, so it goes without saying that we’d become friends. Mom’s always so busy controlling the water elements she didn’t have time to look after me, so she sent me to be adopted by Jack Beanstalk. But like Carlos, I’ve learned to enjoy other things. However, snow isn’t one of them.

“My wings can’t stand the bitter cold. If I stay outside too long, they freeze and wither away. It also doesn’t help that my water powers freeze in the winter. Water and cold do not mix well for me.”

Carlos’ face falls. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t think of that.”

I wave it off. “It’s alright.”

“It’s just that… we didn’t get snow on the Isle.”

That’s why he loves the snow. I can’t be mad at him for that. How could he have known anyway? It’s his first Christmas in Auradon, so he wouldn’t know.

“I guess if you’ve never seen it, snow can be very magical,” I attempt a cheerful smile. “I’m glad you enjoy it! You should go play outside.”

Carlos still isn’t convinced. “But it’s not as fun if you’re not there, Sylvia. Would you maybe wanna stay here for a hot chocolate?”

My spirits lift and my wings start fluttering. “That sounds wonderful! I’d love to!”

“Great! Um- maybe we could sit down instead of hiding behind the counter?”

I nod eagerly and start flying to a nearby table, too excited to remember not to use my wings indoors.

“Oh- right.” I flutter down, and my height difference shows. Since I’m the descendant of a fairy, I’ve been short my whole life.

“That never gets old,” Carlos comments with a grin.

I tilt my head in confusion. “What?”

“Your wings. I think they’re beautiful.”

His kind words send us both into blushing messes, so I try to change the subject.

"Where's Dude?"

Carlos chuckles. "He hates the cold, so he's currently sleeping in front of the fire in my dorm."

By now a waitress shows up to take our order.

“What’ll it be, hon?”

I don’t miss a beat. “A large old-fashioned hot chocolate extreme with peppermint dust, whipped cream, and marshmallows, please!”

Carlos’ jaw drops.

I roll my eyes. “It’s my favorite holiday drink, I don’t care if it gives me a heart attack.”

“It sounds fantastic! I’ll have one too!” He smiles at the waitress, who just nods and walks off.

This snow day just got so much better!

Evie’s POV

“We’ve got to get them together!” I huff as I pace the dorm room.

“But they are together,” Jay states bluntly. “Haven’t you seen them around?”

I roll my eyes. “I mean, they need to know that they love each other, right? It’s like they’re completely oblivious to it!”

Jay lazily gets up from the couch and walks over to the window. “I wouldn’t say they look too upset.”

“What?”

I dash over and peer through the frosted glass to see Carlos and Sylvia walking hand-in-hand through the snow, each holding to-go mugs.

“Oh my God. Are they on a… date?”

Jay shrugs. “Guess we don’t gotta step in after all.”

I’m still unconvinced. “No, no. It’s been going on like this for months! They look happy hanging out together, but won’t confess their feelings! Come on!” I grab Jay’s sleeve and start dragging him out the door. “I want to see this for myself!”

Sylvia’s POV

Ok, if all snow days involve drinking hot chocolate with Carlos then I want one every day!

“What’s been your favorite snow activity?” I ask Carlos, who keeps looking at the snow outside as if we’re in a real-life snow globe.

“Definitely making snowmen. Or snowball fights! Wait- have you ever ice skated?”

I let out a carefree laugh as I sip my cocoa. “Yes, it comes very naturally when I can control water.”

“What’s your favorite snow activity?”

I come to a stop in the flurrying snow, remembering how much I used to love winter as a kid.

“I… I liked making snow angels,” I whisper.

Carlos gets an unreadable expression. “Why don’t you now?”

I shake my head and gesture to the frozen ground. “I don’t like risking direct snow contact with my wings. Plus, all the snow that melts under me begins to freeze to my cape.”

The freckled VK looks distant for a second, then seems to get an idea.

“Wait a sec!” He quickly slides off his own coat and lays it on the fluffy snow. “Now you have a double cover!”

I smile sadly at his thoughtful gesture. “Carlos, that’s really sweet. But I’m not sure-”

“Come on, it’ll only be for a second!” Carlos takes my hand and pulls me closer. “We’ll head straight back indoors, I promise.”

I must admit, Carlos’ pleading eyes combined with the sparkling snow is all too taunting to pass up despite my usual refusals.

With a deep breath, I hug my cape tighter around me and turn around to gently lie down on the soft blanket of snow. The cooler surface is refreshing, flooding my mind with childhood memories. Slowly, I bring my arms out to form the angel, and when I do I feel Carlos lay down beside me.

“Are you having fun?” He asks sincerely.

“Yes,” I answer in a relaxed tone, then seem to rethink something. “Carlos… Do you like spending time with me?”

Carlos doesn’t take more than 2 seconds to respond. “Of course! You’re always so full of fun ideas, and having a water balloon fight with you is one of the best things ever!”

I nod. “Does that mean… you enjoy my company? You like… me?”

By now we’ve both realized where this conversation might be going, but thankfully Carlos doesn’t seem weirded out by it and doesn’t slide away.

“Ok, don’t water-blast me for this,” Carlos takes a deep breath. “Would you be mad if I said I did like you? Maybe… as more than a friend?”

Is this what I think it is?

“So is this a date?” I stand up and my wings start getting excited, threatening to shake loose from my cape. “Oh no- I can’t be out too long!”

Carlos sees my panicked face and stands up with me to dust the snow off my cape. Then out of nowhere, he sweeps me up bridal-style and rushes me across the grounds to the dorm building entrance. We don’t speak, there’s no need to. I trust him not to drop me. Through speaking with actions Carlos shows me just how much he cares, and it sends my spirits soaring. I don’t know if it’s the sugar in the hot chocolate or my dilated emotions, but my heart’s racing like a rabbit!

When we get inside and the warmth engulfs my wings again, Carlos gently lets me down.

“I supposed I did mean for this to be a date,” Carlos admits. “I’m sorry you got too cold.”

For some reason my stubborn eyes can’t leave his cute face. “It’s my fault, I got too excited. I just wish I could stand the cold longer so I could enjoy it with you,” I say in a sad tone.

“I’d keep you warm.” Carlos leans in closer and wraps his arms around me, firm enough to show his affection but not too tight to damage my wings.

Using what courage I can muster, I turn my head up. “I know you will.” And with that, I press a soft kiss to his cheek.

Carlos’ face goes as red as a cherry, and immediately I regret being so bold.

“I’m sorry! God, I’m so bad at this- I just messed everything up- and now you’re mad-!”

Carlos cuts me off by leaning in to kiss my lips and my eyes close on instinct. If it weren’t for my wings going into hummingbird mode, this would be a really tender moment.

When we break apart to breathe, I hear Carlos let out a surprised gasp.

“Sylvia, um… As much as I love your wings, would you mind letting me down?” He jokes.

My eyes pop open and I look down to find that my wings have lifted us up a good 5 feet in the air.

“Oh! Right. Sorry about that,” I gush as I lower us down, with Carlos still hugging me to him.

“Does this mean we can have more snow dates?” I ask in a timid voice.

Carlos grins. “That sounds fun! I think I just found my new favorite snow activity!”

I mirror his happiness with my own smile and grip his hand. “I think we’ve had enough snow for today, so how about watching a Christmas movie?”

“Perfect!”

Carlos starts leading me back to his dorm, and when we pass by Evie and Jay in the hallway I swear I hear Evie mutter “It’s about time.”

God, I love snow days!

@laylasshiftingtonight

#carlos descendants #carlos de vil x reader #descendants carlos #mal descendants #evie descendants #jay descendants #ben descendants #disney descendants #descendants #descendants x reader #carlos x reader #snow day #christmas time

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sundaymorningdew · 1 year

Text

TRACK FOUR: ARABELLA | Jeon Wonwoo (M) | Preview

pairing: 80s!wonwoo x reader

genre: opposites attract!au, 80s london, angst, fluff, smut.

synopsis: Bookish and quiet, wonwoo very much keeps himself to himself; finding comfort in the dusty shelves of the local bookstore he remains as inconspicuous as he wishes. That’s until one rainy night you come tumbling into the store; leopard print, cigarettes and whiskey, loudmouth of the party, you’re everything he’s not so why can’t he help the way his heart thuds a bit harder when you set your galaxy eyes on him.

teaser length: 1301

now playing: Arabella by Arctic Monkeys [X]

a/n: im slowly going to start teasing the tracks im happy with, but enjoy, this is my favourite one to write so far! hopefully ill have one out by christmas <3

series masterlist |

London, 1989

“There was not a soul to be seen, nor a sound to be heard, except the dripping of the rain.”

Wonwoo never loved the rain, he never loved the way the watery whispers from the sky could change everything they touched; nor did he love the way that it could chill him to the very bone and nip at the skin of his hands like aquatic parasites leaching off his warmth. But it was on nights like this, where the winter forced the sun to slink its way back into the horizon early, pulling the inky hue of the night into the sky that he found himself liking the rain. Perched with his arms crossed in the window of Hatchards Bookstore in Piccadilly, Wonwoo found himself enjoying the way the rain reversed itself into the sky as it bounced itself off the pavement in a million tiny thunderous tumps.

Even though it wasn’t the latest in the world, 6:30 pm during the winter might as well have been the middle of the night with the way the sun shielded itself for the day. The flickering lights of London could be seen blooming from the puddles of the pavements; the cracks filling up to give the world a different view if anyone looked closely. It was rare it rained like this, no wind in sight but Wonwoo was sure that you’d be frozen to the bone all the same if you were to step out in it.

He felt glad to be within the warmth of the shop as he watched the people in the streets without protection skitter around like helpless animals looking for shelter; newspapers and briefcases alike held above heads in a makeshift refuge from the watery beast in the sky, the shoulders of lovers damp with purpose as they huddled together for warmth, and the lone soul that didn’t care if he got drenched or left to dry because it wouldn’t change their day either way. It was interesting to Wonwoo to watch how people reacted to situations out of their control, and his spot from the window was a prime people-watching space to do just that. He’d never been a people person, a close group of his choosing was all he needed, but every now and then even he liked to see how the other side of the coin lived.

Wonwoo supposed that in many ways, standing here in the window of the shop had many meanings; this wasn’t just his job, he felt a sense of calm when he was surrounded by the astute sound of nothing but the old building and gentle tinkle of the radio, with the smell of dust and paper clinging to the air, he felt still when he got to work alone with nothing but a smile given to the odd person that would come up to pay. The bookshop to many just looked like another store, but to Wonwoo, that faded green door with the croaky bell was the first step into his world.

It was a contemplative and serene home for any the entered it, it held no judgment and there was no signature to who could and couldn’t enter the place. Wonwoo saw everyone from the youngest of kids to the oldest of the old walk through the door, all with the same interest in mind, finding themselves in the pages of somewhere new. He liked the temperance of knowing that he could play a small hand in helping them with something new, it was a pause from his usually busy days out of the store, it was a second home.

Life for Wonwoo outside of that faded door was weirdly monotonous; he was only really in the city for university, and even then, he found himself in the libraries of the old college, swamped readying old classics that no one else dared to touch, finding stories in the fraying bindings of texts. He wasn’t a social man, he had his friends he would meet up on the weekends he had free, but he wasn’t a recluse either; Wonwoo didn’t love the rain, but he however did love walking in the frozen still mornings, Lady Frost licking at the skin of his nose as the blood rushed to the skin to soothe the biting kisses. He loved walking on his own and experiencing parts of life on his own, the people he needed would come into his life when they were needed themselves.

Most of all, Wonwoo didn’t believe in fate, even though he read pages upon pages of dreamers slewing their wants for a fated life, the man himself didn’t think reality worked like that; if fates were reality, then why were they confined to pages for others to read? He believed in the things that were tangible and real, like if he touched the edge of a page too hard, he’d get a cut, or it he held his skin to close to a flame it would blister, he didn’t believe in things he couldn’t see.

What he didn’t expect to see, ironically, was the presence of the faded green door flinging itself open with a screeching ding; the old bell above it desperately needing replacing. It must have been comical really to see the man of 6ft jump in place at the sign of a small bell, but his people watching, and day dreaming had been so intense he neglected to remember he was still on the clock.

He wasn’t a judge, he didn’t care how people dressed or acted, it was the end of the 80s people had lived through enough that other’s clothing didn’t faze anyone anymore; but even Wonwoo could find his own brow quirking as he took in the cause of the noise.

He felt his arms loosening from his chest as he gazed at you from your spot by the door, drenched and dripping onto the hardwood, he supposed the leopard print coat you wore once had more life to the moving fibres as the rain matted them down and clumped them in a way that made you look like you’d be pushed face first into the river. To be frankly honest it was like the rain had soaked the life of you, Wonwoo took care in spotting the way the mud stuck and tangled itself from your gator skin boots to the ripped and tugged netting that grasped it way up your thighs, the way the dress you wore probably floated and danced around the skin of your hips and thighs before the weather got its hands on you.

What struck him though, even though you hadn’t said a word or moved an inch from the spot by the door, was the way your hands grasped themselves in a fist by your hips; knuckles a sheen of white, the muscles in your covered arms shaking slightly as you pent up whatever feelings inside to the point your skin turned a nasty blush as your fingers cut into the inside of your palms. It was only then he took a look at your face, his shoulders softening slightly as he caught wind of what was up with the bursting through the door.

He wasn’t sure if it was the rain or the way your lip warbled with emotion that tarnished your face; the black running down your cheeks till they smudged into a sickly grey, and the faded brown around your mouth from where he imagined a pretty lipstick once lay, he softened up completely at the distraught look on your face, much like the weather outside you were storming with something too.

“Please tell me you’re still open,” Your voice was bubbled and thick with something he couldn’t place, like something was lodged in your throat and creeping out, “Please god tell me you’re still open.”

#wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt fluff #wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #wonwoo fanfic #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #wonwoo #seventeen #svt #svt x am

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pookacangetit · 2 years

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villain!disney song yuu brainrot (i apologize in advance)

disney song yuu is mostly written with a disney prince(ss)-esque personality, with the occasional villain moment, but imagine them with a more,, morally gray type personality

a yuu that, as soon as they realize the power they hold, immediately starts thinking of ways to use it to their advantage. i mean- they’ve been dropped into a different dimension, with no magic (which, by the way, is a very necessary thing here), and everyone at this godforsaken school has enough baggage to match their egos, and absolutely no emotional intelligence whatsoever. who says they can’t level the playing field a bit? they deserve a bit of fun.

this yuu is craftier, more self serving, and egotistical with the wits to match. who knew their passion for singing would become such an asset? a little hum and a few lyrics could get them an A+ on their potions assignment, or finally get grim to shut up, or sick a murder of crows on their enemies! Fun!

oh, i have admirers? a fan club? a literal cult following? some people actually think i’m a god??? all according to keikaku “how peculiar! i’m flattered, really, but i don’t think i’ve done anything that notable! i’m only doing what i can, just like everyone else~!” *bats eyelashes innocently*

that graceful, charming act might fool a stranger, but anyone that knows yuu knows. they may be calm, and collected, they may be reserved, they may be polite, so unlike many of the brash and bold students of nrc, but yuu isn’t harmless. people listen when they speak, they’re charismatic, sharp, they could talk anyone into a corner with that melodious, alluring voice of theirs. they’re beautiful in the way that a rolling tide or a waning moon is, almost unnoticeable, they simply blend into the background, until suddenly you see them and you can't look away.

animals of all types seem attracted to them. sometimes they’re songbirds, or woodland creatures, but most of the time they’re crows, snakes, vultures and insects; cawing and hissing along to the prefect’s smooth, rich voice.

the sun seems to slink back into the clouds when they sing, the wind blows, cool and soft, the birds stop chirping and all is silent, as if nature itself was listening intently. their voice is heavenly, angelic. ghostly, haunting, and almost inhuman; cold as ice, dark as ink, reverberating through the air like a lone, howling breeze on an otherwise silent winter night. yet strong and firm, rumbling like thunder, seeping through your skin like a burning warmth, echoing through your ribcage and electrifying your very own heart.

but this yuu isn’t evil. that’s the reason they’re so popular, yuu may not be nice all the time, but they’re kind, they’re not weak, but they’re forgiving. they return what they are given- grace for grace, malice for malice. despite their cocky jabs, they love their friends, despite their seeming coldness, they help those in need.

mysterious, powerful, captivating, endearing, a little bit intimidating, and entirely unique, that’s the ramshackle prefect.

just don’t piss them off.

----

idk if this made any sense i kinda just word vomited :( cringecore

Oh Yuu has plenty of reasons to be a rogue villian, and NRC doesn't mind this feral god commiting world domination if they wanted to (Malleus will hands down let Yuu be his emperess if they expressed interest in the Thorn Kingdom).

They liked this morally grey Yuu using everything in their arsenal to survive because it shows off how NRC they are and HA TAKE THAT RSA BASTARDS YUU'S OURS THROUGH AND THROUGH.

#twst #disney song yuu

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