#alley rose reminds me of me and my boyfriend

[cowboy-like-moony]

also alley rose makes me think of wolfstar

I'm telling you conan wrote atyd

#alley rose reminds me of me and my boyfriend #hups

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 5, Match 2

propaganda below the cut! (wall of text warning)

Selena:

"truly probably one of the most beautiful women to have ever walked this earth. voice of an angel, dazzling smile, looks like she smells good"

"if u don't vote selena ur mexicanphobic /j"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #90s music #tournament #selena quintanilla #selena quintanilla perez #brian molko #placebo

[timdrakegf]

alley rose 🍁 timbern

“don’t leave my hanging alone again. oh where’d you go alley rose?”

"I... I don't think I do this," the words come out soft and quiet, barely traversing through his tear-clogged throat. The words push past his plush lips, which Tim’s spent nights tracing and kissing to calm his racing heart from the stress every patrol places on him.

Tim swivels in his chair, drawn by the subtle tremor in Bernard's voice. His eyes, filled with concern, scan over the figure of his boyfriend. Bernard sits on their worn sage couch, fingers fidgeting with the loose threads he's absentmindedly pulled, a habit born from countless sleepless nights.

Tim's heart clenches at the sight of Bernard's distress, his work temporarily forgotten as he focuses on his normally cheery boyfriend. With tentative steps, he crosses the room, closing the distance between them until he's standing beside the sage couch, where Bernard sits with his head bowed. He positions himself before the couch's arm, folding his arms atop it before resting his forehead against them, angling his gaze upward to meet Bernard's.

Gently, Tim reaches out, his fingers brushing against Bernard's trembling hand. "Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft with concern. "Talk to me, Bernard. What's going on?"

Bernard lets out a shaky breath, finally meeting Tim's gaze, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "I just... I feel like I'm suffocating, Tim," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

Tim cocks his head in a way that Bernard would find endearing if not for the nature of the conversation. If not for what was about to come. “What do you mean, bear?” He takes his hand and strokes his knuckles softly. Bernard whimpers at the familiar touch of his calloused finger pads.

“Every time you leave Tim, every time you put on that stupid mask, I feel like someone is choking me.”

“You usually like tha-” Tim jokes, but at the look in Bernard’s eyes, the joke dies in his throat, and he’s back to concerned.

“Tim, I’m serious. I don’t think I do this anymore.” Bernard pulls his hand softly from Tim’s and folds them in his lap. He looks so small like this that it reminds Tim of a caged animal.

Tim shakes his head, “Well, what do you want me to do? How can I help?”

Bernard inhales shakily. Now or Never, he thinks.

“I can’t keep being second to Robin. I can’t keep wondering if you’re gonna come home and, if you do, in what condition. I can’t keep watching you get pummeled on our TV. I can’t keep doing this.”

"You can't ask me to quit, Bernard," Tim's voice is tinged with surprise, his gaze unwavering as he meets Bernard's pleading eyes. "Being Robin... it's who I am. It's what I do."

Bernard's expression softened, a mixture of concern and exasperation etched across his features. "But at what cost, Tim?" he implored, his voice tinged with desperation. "Every night, you put yourself in danger, risking your life for what? For some endless cycle of violence and chaos? No matter how many people risk their lives, Gotham doesn't change."

Tim's resolve wavers, a flicker of doubt flashing in his eyes. "I do it to protect the city," he countered, his voice strained with conviction. I do it to make a difference. I do it to honor Batman's legacy."

"But what about your legacy, Tim?" Bernard's voice rose with urgency, his frustration boiling over. "What about your life? Your safety? Don't you see what this is doing to you? Physically, emotionally... it's tearing you apart. It’s tearing us apart."

Tim's fists tighten. His facade of defiance builds under the weight of Bernard's words. "I... I can't just walk away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Being Robin... it's all I know. It's who I've always been."

Bernard's heart ached at the vulnerability in Tim's words, his own frustration giving way to a surge of compassion. "But it doesn't have to define you, Tim," he insisted, reaching out to gently grasp Tim's fisted hands. "You're more than just a costume. More than just a sidekick. You're Tim Drake, and you deserve a chance to live your own life on your own terms."

The room felt like it was shrinking, suffocating Tim as he squared off against Bernard. His frustration boiled over, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and bitterness.

"You don't get it, Bernard." Tim spat, his voice laced with venom as he advanced on his boyfriend. "You're just jealous because you can't handle the fact that I'm out there making a difference while you sit here, wallowing in self-pity. I don’t exist for you."

Bernard recoiled as if struck, his eyes flashing with hurt and betrayal. "Is that what you really think, Tim?" he shot back, his voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "That this is about jealousy? Your own ego so blinds you you can't even see how much you're hurting yourself and everyone around you!"

Tim clenched his fists at his sides, his chest heaving with pent-up anger. "I don't need you to tell me what's best for me, Bernard," he snarled, the words dripping with contempt. I'm Robin, whether you like it or not. And if you can't handle that, then maybe you should just leave!"

The words hung in the air like a weight, suffocating in their intensity. Bernard's eyes flashed with hurt and betrayal, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "Fine," he bit out, his voice trembling with unshed tears. "If that's how you really feel, then maybe you're right. Maybe I should leave."

And with that, Bernard turned on his heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Tim alone with the bitter taste of regret on his lips. But even as the door slammed shut behind him, Tim couldn't shake the feeling that he'd just made the biggest mistake of his life.

#batfamily #bruce wayne #robin #tim drake #batfam #bernard dowd #tim drake x bernard dowd #timothy drake #angst #fanfic #one shot #ficlet #timber #timbern #tim drake fanfiction

[hrtli3]

INSOMNIAC ! — LEE HEESEUNG.

g. fluff p. fem reader cw. description of death in future parts

( ♫ : perfect - the smashing pumpkins ) ( ♫ : dumb - pretty sick ) ( ♫ : i love my boyfriend - princess chelsea )

she never really did much , she just kept showing up. he would see her throughout the day , when he closed his eyes , in his dreams on the rare occasion he could fall asleep. she made it incredibly difficult for him to focus on anything. at first , he thought nothing of it , his college campus wasnt all that big really , its no coincidence he sees the same people here and there. sure , she did dress strange — what with pure white wings that looked like that of an angels , all white outfits apart from the silver heart locket she wore around her neck and her long , dark brown hair. she reminded him of this white kitten that would wander around his neighborhood when he was younger.

but when he managed to pull his focus from her for a second and look around , it seemed almost as if she was glowing. he soon realized she was around somewhere when he smelt a faint smell of lavender and vanilla. it didnt take him long to grow attached to her , starting to look for her , follow her and try to ask her questions. who was she ? why was she following him ? why did she always run away and disappear when he would try to approach her ?

then one night , her own curiosity got the best of her. “you can see me ?” she stood pinned between him and the alley wall of the coffee shop he frequented. it was the strangest question heeseung had ever been asked in all his nineteen years of life. his head quirked to the side , much like a confused puppy. almost instantly , a soft blush rose to her cheeks and he was sure it was the prettiest shade of pink he’d ever seen. “oh , youre much prettier up close.” she whispered , taking his stunned silence as an opportunity to scan his features. he cleared his throat and took a few steps back , “why wouldnt i be able to see you ? in fact , all i ever see is you and i wanna know why.” his voice was stern but gentle and the warmth he provided being so close to her was missed , causing her to step closer to him. “i could get in big trouble for letting you see me , yanno ? i guess maybe i got distracted. i guess maybe i also liked when youd see me.” a little smile spread across her lips and heeseung could feel his heart beat just a little faster. “youre awfully honest , you know ? but you still havent answered any of my questions.” he took one more step back , only to find that now he was pinned between her and the opposite wall.

“i could get in big trouble for answering.” she raised a hand to his hair , petting it at first before slowing running her fingers through it. the entire situation didnt feel real to heeseung and perhaps that is why he allowed her to do the things she was doing. he let the situation be strange if it meant he could stare at her like this and be so close to her. that same scent of lavender and vanilla was much stronger and it made his head spin. “who would you get in trouble with ?” if she wasnt so close , she wouldve missed that question. his voice had gone just barely above a whisper , his eyes glued to hers now. the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. one dark brown and the other a soft blue. she giggled and his knees almost gave out. it was the strangest feeling , like butterflies fluttering in his veins. “Him.” she looked up , his gaze following suit. now he was more confused than ever. if this was what he thought it was , if she was what he thought she was , well then the only explanation was that he was going insane. but it made sense in a way — the small wings , the fact that she was quite literally glowing , and the way no one else seemed to be able to see her. “i spotted you a long time ago , lee heeseung. we were growing up together until you moved away and i lost you. i used my one wish to become human again , but you left me. if you hadnt kept my collar , i dont think i wouldve ever found you.” she grabbed his hand and he gasped at how cold her hands were. “youre the kitten i always saw in my neighborhood ? i begged my parents to let me keep you , if only my mother wasnt so allergic.” it still didnt make much sense to him but if he kept her talking , maybe she would straight out tell him what he needed to hear.

she nodded , “i am ! i couldnt control myself much , i was a fresh one. i still havent much practice since i clung to you. i think maybe thats why i cant stop talking right now. oh , if He finds out !” she seemed worried. heeseung felt as if he had known her his whole life now. “ive forgotten my name with all the time thats passed. do you maybe remember it ?” a small pout sat on her lips and he had to try ridiculously hard to stop staring at them. he pushed the sleeve of his hoodie up , revealing the thin yarn that held her heart shaped name tag. he held it up in front of her , watching as her eyes lit up and a bright smile illuminated her face.

IVORY. was carved on it. she nearly leaped into his arms , wrapping herself around him. “thank you , lee heeseung. im so happy i found you again !” her giggles invaded his mind and he held her gently , taking in her sweet smell and soft presence. “im ivory , your guardian angel !” she pulled away and jumped in excitement. heeseungs cheeks ached from how hard he had been smiling because of her. his next question was answered when she muttered an “oh !” before opening the locket she wore , showing him his initials inscribed into it. “my guardian angel , huh ?” he ran his fingers through his hair , sighing sweetly.

#enhypen #enhypen heeseung #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #border : day one #hrtli3 #lee heesung x reader #lee heeseung

[whispersatdawn]

on the rebound | jeong jaehyun social media!au | part 23

↳ In an attempt to finally move on from his ex-girlfriend, basketball star Jeong Jaehyun reaches out to Y/N, who he knows has a crush on him.

prev | next || masterlist

word count: ~1.5k

You lovingly gazed back down at the big bouquet on your lap, and your smile automatically grew bigger at the sight of the beautifully arranged flowers sent by Jaehyun. Your fingers brushed against the small note card attached, rereading the cursive print: Thinking of my favorite person again <3

“From, your... boyfriend,” you finished, feeling your cheeks warm, still slightly unaccustomed to the label that reminded you that Jaehyun was yours.

In the past few days, Jaehyun gained confidence to show more affection towards you. Although you noticed he preferred to do so in private, in front of your friend group, he had no problems occasionally holding your hand, or putting his arm around your shoulders, or giving you quick kisses. Jaehyun also enjoyed taking you on romantic dinner dates, and when neither of you felt like going out, he would order takeout and bring it over to your apartment. You were kind of sure it was an excuse for him to stay the night, too, not that you were complaining at all. You adored him for making you feel loved.

Soft knocks appeared on your bedroom door, pulling you away from your thoughts. After you acknowledged the person on the other side, the door opened, and Sujin’s head popped in. “Do you need anything from the store?” your friend asked. “Johnny and I are gonna go right now. I need to buy more shampoo and conditioner.”

“Um... can you please get bread and eggs? We’re about to run out. Also, do we need anything for the beach house?”

“Got it, and I don’t think so? I mean, if you think of anything, you can just text us while we’re there. To be honest, I haven’t even started packing yet,” Sujin sighed.

“Same,” you admitted, matching the other’s sigh. “And where’s Ten? I haven’t seen him since I got home.”

“Taking a nap. Oh, by the way, I just finished my laundry, so you can go ahead and do yours—”

“Sujin!” you heard Johnny call from the living room. “Are you ready? Let’s head out.”

“Coming!” replied Sujin as she turned back to you. She said goodbye in a sing-song voice, but not before her eyes shifted down to the bouquet, grinning. “Gorgeous flowers!”

The rest of the day went by in a tranquil manner. You did laundry, and when Sujin and Johnny returned from the store and Ten woke up, the four of you spent a majority of the time together catching up on your favorite TV show until the evening.

“Geez, it’s almost ten thirty,” Johnny said with a yawn, stretching his arms as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “I think I’m gonna call it early. Got the morning shift.”

Sujin lifted her head from your shoulder and removed the blanket from the both of you. “Yeah, I’m getting tired, too,” she said. “Guess that’s it for the night.”

You reached for the remote to turn the TV off. “Aw, okay. I should really start packing for the weekend anyway, it’s—”

The ring of the doorbell cut you off, causing you to look at your roommates in confusion, and they returned the same look.

“Were we expecting anyone?” you asked, brows drawn together, and the others shook their heads.

Johnny was the one who walked over to the door and looked through the peephole. “It’s for you, Y/N,” he said, pushing the door open, revealing a sheepish Jaehyun at the entrance. He was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and pants.

Your boyfriend gave a single wave. “Hey, guys,” he greeted before turning his attention to you. “Um, I texted you a few times, but you didn’t respond.”

“What? I should’ve heard—” You started, but then immediately remembered that you put your phone on silent, faced down next to you in order to focus on the show. You let out a groan, cursing yourself mentally. “I’m sorry. My phone was on silent, and I haven’t checked it.”

Johnny closed the door and bid goodnight, with the others following after him to the hallway, leaving you and Jaehyun alone.

“Night, guys. Did I come at a bad time?” Jaehyun asked you, wrapping his arm around your waist and leaning down to give you a soft kiss on the lips. You noticed the worried look on his face when you pulled away and could not help but kiss his pouty lips again.

“No, they were headed to bed anyway,” you assured him. “I’m really sorry I didn’t read your texts. What did they say?”

“I wanted to take you out to see you, but I guessed I ended up doing so anyway,” he said with a chuckle.

You giggled. “You literally saw me yesterday when we all hung out with everyone at the bowling alley.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What can I say? You have me under some kind of spell.”

You let out another laugh, playfully rolling your eyes at the cheesy comment as you reached for his hand, leading him to your room.

“What’d you do all day?” Jaehyun asked.

“Nothing much. Just some chores. I was about to pack right now, but then you showed up.”

“You can still pack. Don’t let me stop you.” He bounced onto your queen-sized bed before sitting back upright, legs hanging off the edge.

“Now, why would I pack,” you started, walking over to Jaehyun, “when I have my handsome boyfriend right in front of me?” You settled yourself over his lap, and he automatically placed both of his hands on your waist.

“I am a pretty interesting person, huh?” Jaehyun replied, licking his lips as he watched you.

“Very.”

You placed both hands on the sides of his face and kissed him. You caught scent of the woodsy cologne he always wore; it had grown to become one of your favorites, too. The kiss was sweet, and a part of you wanted Jaehyun to take it a little further, but Jaehyun pulled away, slightly taking you by surprise. “I... actually came here for another reason,” he told you softly, tucking stray hairs behind your ear and staring into your eyes.

“What is it?”

He started reaching into his pocket, so you moved off of him, sitting yourself next to your boyfriend as he pulled the content out. Jaehyun handed you a small box with a brand name printed on top. “Open it,” he said.

When you opened the box, you gasped, eyes wide at the beautiful rose gold heart necklace displayed inside. The chain was simple and the heart was small, but you knew from the brand that it was expensive. “Jaehyun...”

“Do you like it?” he asked, smiling as he watched your reaction. “Can I put it on you?”

You did not know what to say, so you nodded your head, handing the box back to Jaehyun. He removed the necklace from the box. “Turn around.”

Your body turned to the opposite side, facing the wall. You felt Jaehyun’s body warmth as he moved closer behind you. He placed the necklace in front of you, and you gathered your hair, lifting it up so that he could bring the chain around to the back and connect the clasp. You let your hair down and fiddled with the heart between your thumb and index finger, smiling to yourself. Then you felt Jaehyun’s fingers touch your skin as he brushed your hair away and he planted a kiss on the side of your neck.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you sighed at the contact. Turning around, you found Jaehyun watching you as if waiting to see what you would do next. “Thank you,” you said, voice almost in a whisper. “I love it.”

“Good.”

“Are you gonna stay tonight, too?”

“I want to.”

“Good, because I also want you to.”

After you turned off the lights, the moon was the only illumination, peeking through your window. You laid beside Jaehyun under the covers, and he instantly pulled you closer to him so that you were pressing against his chest. You practically melt in his arms, feeling safe around him. “Because of you, I’m starting to not like sleeping alone as much,” you mumbled, trying to fight off sleep.

Jaehyun chuckled. “Then it’s already going according to plan. You’re gonna be the one whipped for me.”

“Says the guy who showed up at my place after I ignored his texts and gifted me an expensive necklace. Who’s whipped for who?”

“Okay now,” Jaehyun said, tickling your side, causing you to burst into giggles before pressing your lips together, remembering your roommates were asleep. “Stop embellishing the story, Y/N. You did not ignore my texts.”

You stuck your tongue out at him jokingly. “Same difference.”

“Mhmm.” The tiredness was apparent in his voice, and your eyes started to drift to a close. Your boyfriend placed a kiss on your forehead, on your nose, and the last one on your lips. You let out a content hum. The last thing you heard before you fell asleep was a low whisper from Jaehyun.

“Night, baby.”

taglist: @fluffyjaes @hwangful @seeking-faces @urlocalnctstan @justineasian @127-jaehyun @dearjaehyxn @taesty-jams @jeneyesmile @taeiluv127 @mango-bear @marklexleaf @generantionct @tyxsaturn @247byun @yourchasingsunsetslove @2000-september @jaeficrecs @bitchenderyy @thorscrown @leaurcitee @erisxczenie @minavenue @phoenixes-and-wizards @renjunf00ls @notminniie @sanisms @sunflowerhae @jeyyes @ohmy-fandoms @artfulbarnes @anotherfullsun @moons00 @nctlovesme @unmanageable-day @raywishii @thejungjaehyun @venusprada @doyobun @nshitae @andrea-chanel @llamabouquet @joeycheungg @tobiobb @wkhdery @itsdnguyenxoxo @ngayongabi @queen-of-himbos @beemarkie @jackyeongljin @seventeeneration @bdxxbi @joeokotoro @cacaubs @kwanseo @h1acynth @flwrtbz @jaehyunismine @alifethatsonlyonthepage @heheimsoft @m1ss-foodi3 @notsooperfect @ruthiechanumon @ukiyoneo @neo-teenkidz @johfaam @defluenza @philanarose @lightincendio @imsusx @jaebeomsbestie @thorndraconis

#nct social au #nct social media au #jaehyun social media au #jung jaehyun #jung yoonoh #nct #jaehyun au #jaehyun angst #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x y/n #jaehyun x reader #nct aus #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #jaehyun fluff #on the rebound

[thatslikely]

Stowaways - G.W.

Stowaways- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (former Gryffindor)

Warnings: none! just tooth-rotting George fluff :)

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Sorry this took so long! This is my longest fic to date, and I’m so proud of it. I love Georgie so I’m glad to finally write for him. Hope you guys enjoy this one <3

Just a reminder: Y/N is Your Name and flashbacks/thoughts are in italics.

93 Diagon Alley is a place of wonder, mystique, and above all else, joy. A place where all your best memories are enshrined, a place where you can be your best self, alongside your doting fiery-haired boyfriend, who wears his ginger mop of hair like a halo. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes occupies most of the address, its orange and purple exterior lightening up Diagon Alley effortlessly.  

Its interior is just as magical, the multiple levels of the shop are engulfed with shelves stocked full of Fred and George’s mischievously ingenious products. Some threatened to transfigure you into an eye-popping xanthic canary, while others could spontaneously spawn a whole swamp in the blink of an eye.

Everything within its walls brings smiles to children of all ages, and it could be argued that George is still one of those kids too.

The store seems to make George truly come alive, even more than he was at Hogwarts just a year prior. The look in his eyes as he skillfully operates the store with Fred reminds you of the glow that your face used to hold as a child as you looked longingly through countless toy-store windows around December.

While the shop is the main source of his pride and joy, even its power couldn’t halt the toll of a busy workweek. Every day, new shipments had been zooming in and out of the store, sales at an all-time high. The new lot of Hogwarts students must have a mischievous streak, for student-sent owl orders in preparation for the school year were arriving daily by the barrel-load.

It was finally Friday evening, and George trudged up the back stairs to the flat, his eyelids droopy and back hunched. His lack of energy, however, couldn’t take away from the playfully handsome purple and brown ensemble he wore. He pitifully fiddled with the keys before finally turning the lock, entering the flat promptly, taking in the familiar home-y aroma.  

He promptly plopped down at the small breakfast table near the kitchen, a tired sigh escaping his lips. He pressed his elbow onto the surface of the table, his arm supporting the weight of his head that his neck couldn’t bear any longer.  

“How was your day?  You look absolutely exhausted,” you asked with concern. You already knew you would have to plan something to cheer poor George up.

“I am simply dying, Y/N,” he said, while pretending to go limp like a corpse, “there’s no hope for me. Tell Mum and Ginny I love ‘em.”

“Not even your own twin brother, huh?” you asked sarcastically. He could only respond with a zombie-esque groan.  

You sarcastically rolled your eyes at his dramatic display, glad to see his lack of energy didn’t affect his sense of humor. You walked over to your tired George, who had his head now resting on the back of his chair, eyes spaced out at the ceiling.

You calmly sat down next to the Titian-haired love of your life and laid your head on his strong shoulder, your arm slowly snaking up his back. The motion of your hand alternated between tracing soothing circles lightly on his strained back muscles and massaging his tense shoulder.

He turned his face to you, painted with a soft and grateful grin, glad to finally be home, especially with you. For a few serene minutes, comfortable silence filled the air.  

George had nearly drifted off before the both of you were disrupted by his stomach emitting a loud growl. “I take it you’re hungry, Georgie?”

“Apparently so,” your boyfriend responded, patting his stomach.  

He languidly started undoing his bright amaranthine purple tie when you asked, “Do you want icky leftovers or yummy takeout? I know what I’m voting for.”

“Such a tough decision…” George responded with a wink.

----

By the time dinner was over, the tired look in George’s eyes remained, but the delicious takeout helped remedy his splitting headache.  

The two of you quickly settled on the comfortable marmalade-hued couch to watch one of your favorite muggle movies (it was a comedy of course). George’s laugh never ceased to make your heart flutter, even after all these years. The way it used to echo so freely through the crimson Gryffindor common room, and now through you two’s cozy flat, couldn’t help but make you fall even more madly in love with him. 

George somehow brought out the kid in you that laid dormant for so many years. With him, the world seemed so vibrant; there was always a little adventure waiting for you both, even in mundane activities like laundry. He would bunch up the freshly-washed paisley and tessellated dress shirts that he wore down to the shop daily, pelting them at you like the snowballs that he enchanted to hit Quirrell all the way back in third year.  

You loved George with all your heart, as did he.

After a while of movie-watching, George drifted off into a light sleep. His hazy dream was filled with thoughts of the school he called home for so long. The smell of the burning logs and pumpkin that would drift through his nostrils every morning as he walked down the steps from his dorm; the sound of first years’ giggles as they messed with one of his pranks.

His brain then swam through the blurry memories to the first time he met you, the real you, drinking Firewhiskey and playing truth or dare in the back of the common room with the Golden Trio and crew after a victorious Quidditch game.  

He thought of your first date, your face scrunched with belly-aching laughter as you tried stuffing in as many sweets as you could on a snowy Saturday at Honeydukes. The way the twisted rainbow lollipops and chocolate frogs made your face uncontrollably grin cemented what he swore the moment he first saw you: he vowed to never stop making you smile.   

He couldn’t live a day without your joy-filled face; it enchanted him like the beautiful glow of fireworks against a smokey black sky, like the addicting feeling of adrenaline from breaking the rules.

----

“Georgie,” you whispered, “Georgie!”  

Your drowsy boyfriend slowly drifted back to reality after hearing your soft whisper, your hands lightly tapping his chest to an invisible rhythm.  

He released a yawn before asking, “What is it, angel?”  His eyes fluttered lazily, and his lips were quirked to the smallest of smiles.

“I just wanted to make sure you didn’t fall asleep on the couch for the night,” you said caringly, “I knew you’d be even sorer in the morning if you did.”

George’s heart warmed at your thoughtfulness. He quickly took in his surroundings, which starkly contrasted his dreamscape. The television softly droning cheap infomercials instead of the muggle movie he fell asleep to, the blinds closed to hide the velvety black sky, and bits of buttery popcorn strewn across his chest and lap.  

He sat up tiredly, swiping his hand carelessly through his vermillion-pigmented locks. He rubbed his umber eyes as you brushed loose kernels from his clothes to the carpet.  

George muttered, “I love you, Y/N,” quietly, thinking you wouldn’t be able to hear it.  

You did, however, and you reciprocated an “I love you, too” sweetly. You stood up from the couch, extending your hand to help droopy-eyed George up. He took your hand and he rose before walking towards the kitchen, drawn to the stark blue light of the refrigerator.  

The fridge doors popped open, revealing tupperware full of picked-at leftovers, a few odds and ends, and a half-drank bottle of Dragon Barrel Brandy. He groaned at the meager scraps of food occupying the fridge, shutting the door disappointedly. The crisp air that surrounded him with a chill dissipated within an instant.  

“Georgie, I think we should go off to bed. Tomorrow's Saturday, and I have a big surprise for you planned,” you said excitedly, coming up behind the man of your dreams, resting your hand steadily on his shoulder. He leaned into your touch as you guided the sleepy boy to the bedroom.

As the two of you laid down to go to sleep, facing one another, George asked in a tired, raspy voice, “What’s the surprise, darling? Or will I have to find out tomorrow?”

“You know I would never spoil a surprise. Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”

----

George awoke to the delectable scent of freshly-fried bacon and eggs wafting from the humble kitchen. The other half of the bed, he noticed, lay empty, the cozy handmade quilt blanket you usually dozed under laying askew. Sunlight poured through the windows, letting his linen covered body bask in golden morning rays.  

After minutes of continuing to peacefully lay under the covers, absorbing the pure morning ambiance, George finally decided to get up and follow the delicious aromas emitting from the kitchen like a bloodhound.  

As he entered, you were bent over the stove, guiding a spatula around in a lightly tarnished pan, appetizing pancakes browning within. You were still in your sleepwear, wearing oversized plaid pants that dragged across the tile and one of George’s shirts, which was huge on you and smelled strongly of his cologne.

He snuck up behind you quietly as a mouse, before unexpectedly poking the sides of your stomach. You let out a shocked, “George!” before bursting into laughter. Your chuckles blended with his effortlessly, creating a beautiful symphony.  

“Morning, darling. I see you’re making breakfast,” George said with a smirk as he surveyed the surrounding food-covered counters. He seemed in a much better state than he was yesterday, his tired eyes replaced with resplendent brown and gold-speckled ones, which were flooded full of energy reminiscent of his adolescence.  

“I am! And I made all your favorites, so get excited! The day’s only getting started.” You sent him a knowing wink, and he responded with a child-like grin. George giddily opened a cupboard, grabbing two shiny ceramic plates. He forked some already-cooked bacon and eggs onto each plate, shaping the food into two adorable smiley faces.  

“What did I ever do to deserve such an amazing girlfriend like you?” George asked after giving your cheek an affectionate peck.  

“The real question is, what didn’t you do? You’re perfect in my eyes, Georgie,” you heartfeltly admitted as you carried a small plate stacked with butter and syrup-coated warm pancakes coated to the table.  

George had beaten you to the breakfast table, waiting patiently until you finally sat down in the chair to his side. He eagerly stabbed a forkful of egg, stuffing it into his mouth. While Ron was usually credited as the biggest food-lover of the Weasleys, there was no way you could deny that George was runner up.  

He gulped down the rest of the meal quickly, sending breakfast-filled smiles in your direction after every bite. After both of your plates were squeaky-clean, you ventured to the bedroom to get ready for the busy day ahead of you. 

You instructed George to wear “something comfortable,” and he happily complied, throwing on a cream-colored, pin-striped short-sleeve oxford with a pair of worn jeans. You selected something equally as comfortable, and adorable.  

You were in the middle of packing a backpack full of snacks and water when George finally asked, “So… when do I get to know where we’re going?”

“We’re going to Hogwarts,” you said promptly with a knowing smile, greatly contrasting George’s look of perplexion.

“And how exactly are we going to manage that, love? Surely they wouldn’t allow an impromptu visit like this, even good ol’ McGonagall?”  

“Well, let’s just say Hogwarts doesn’t actually know we’ll be there.” 

----

Platform 9 ¾ could be seen bustling with life, the delicious taste of magic floating through the air. It sent you back to all of those years you spent before term, pushing a luggage-stacked trolley across the station.

The scarlet express heaved tufts of smoke from its chimney, a piercing shriek occasionally echoing from its whistle. The magical platform was coated with clumps of young witches and wizards and their parents; the brick floor could barely be seen under all the boots.  

You bid goodbye to your parents, ready to start a new (magical) chapter of your life. As you skipped gleefully to the entrance of the enchanted coach, you caught sight of a rufescent sea of wizards bickering and chuckling with each other. There were six carrot-topped wizards in total: a middle-aged and balding father, an equally middle-aged warm and caring mother, a short and freckle-ridden son who appeared to be the oldest, a tall and stuck-up boy with pretentious-looking glasses who was tightening the crimson tie around his neck, and two identical-looking boys who seemed to be first years as well.

One of them could be seen tieing the stuck-up boy’s shoelaces together, a mischievous smirk on his face as he did. The other was distracting the glasses-wearing brother, shooting the knotter an occasional sneaky glance.  

You smiled at the sight before stepping into the train, eager to make new friends. You felt a little less nervous upon seeing students chatting in their compartments; pure joy from students’ laughing and yelling filled the corridor.

You looked around in search of a promising compartment. Finally, after what felt like hours of looking, you settled on a compartment filled with three other first-years. There were two girls and a boy: one of the girls, Angelina, was animatedly recounting a story, the other, Alicia, sprinkled in witty comments, and a smitten-looking boy named Lee was blushing in the corner, listening intently.  

After a while of bonding with your new friends, the train slowly began to chug along the tracks,  rhythmic clanking creating some pleasant background ambiance. The train began to gain speed before your compartment door was slid open by none other than the vexatious redheaded twins.  

The twin who tied his brother’s shoelaces together, who you later learned was named Fred, confidently took a seat next to Lee. They quickly struck up a conversation, seemingly clicking almost instantly. The twin who served as the distraction for his poor older brother, George, sat down next to you timidly.  

At first, George was too shy to say anything other than a meek, “hello”, but as soon as the trolley stacked with sweets rolled around, he became quite talkative. He was very observant; he would enchant you with beautiful descriptions of the most minute details in the most mundane things.  

George was so observant, in fact, that he noticed you didn’t get anything from the trolley, despite the look on your face saying that it wasn’t by choice. He could only afford a single chocolate frog with the spare change his mother gave him, which he handed to you with a toothy grin.

You yanked on George’s long arm, pulling him behind one of the large brick pillars supporting the platform. “Okay, George, for this to work, we can’t be seen by anyone.” You unsheathed your wand from your pocket, preparing to cast a spell.

“I’m going to cast a disillusionment charm, okay? This should make us blend in with our surroundings so we can sneak onto the train.  If I do it correctly, we should be able to see each other just fine, though.”  

After receiving an accepting nod from George, you gave him a light tap on the shoulder with the tip of your wand. Camouflage slowly dripped down his body, as if someone poured some sort of invisibility paint above his head. Just as quickly as he faded into the pillar behind him, he returned back to normal colors. You hoped he was still invisible to everyone else.  

“Wicked,” he uttered, checking out his arms as they turned invisible and back.

You did the same to yourself without hesitation. George watched with curiosity as you blended seamlessly into the platform; he then admired you as your features slowly returned from invisibility. Every eyelash, every blemish, and every inch of your lips never failed to go unnoticed by him.

“What’s the next step of the plan, Captain?” George asked with a salute.

“So, without being seen, once all the students are off the platform and on the train, we need to sneak onto the caboose, where we should be able to ride safely. After that, it’s smooth sailing to Hogwarts!”

“That sounds easy enough… I think,” George said with his hand in his palm, thinking over the steps of the plan intently.  

“Oh trust me, it’ll be great! I mean, if you can set off fireworks during an exam guarded by Umbridge, you can sneak onto a bloody train.” You gave George a reassuring thumbs-up.

“Don’t even remind me of that soul-sucking bright pink nightmare!” George said with a sarcastic eye roll.

As students slowly started filtering into the train, your time to strike inched closer and closer. Finally, the clock struck eleven, and you and George were dashing across the platform to the back of the train with your hands intertwined with one another’s.

You and George leaped onto the back ledge of the train just in time, for the scarlet locomotive slowly started rolling along the tracks just as you latched onto the railing. The both of you broke into cheers of triumph the moment the train was out of the vicinity of the station.  

“Y/N, look at the window, there’s no reflection of us in it. We really are undetectable,” George mentioned, gesturing towards the window.   

It was unsettling to not see your usual features bouncing off the window, but you were thankful that your charm had worked.  

You moved to sit on the ledge of the train, which was small, only about a foot wide. You put your legs through the wide rails so that the soles of your sneakers nearly dragged on the tracks. George took a seat next to you, his lanky legs sitting crisscross.  

The scenery that the express heaved through was breathtaking; it was even better feeling the crisp air on your face. The rolling moss-tinted hills, vibrant green and yellow trees that dotted the horizon, and worn stone archways that cut through the landscape allowing the train to huff on. All of it reminded you of the impressionist paintings in museums.  

The sunlight bashfully peeked through the clouds like the small flashes of vibrant strawberries hiding under their large green leaves on a serene spring day. The air tasted sweet and refreshing; it felt like you hadn’t ever breathed until your lungs were filled with it.

You and George sat peacefully in silence, listening to the noises of the express and the faint chirping of birds, reflecting on the past. Eventually, he said softly, gaze pointed to the scenery, “I can still remember the moment I realized I was in love with you.”

He continued, “It was the start of fifth year, on this very train. The moment you sat down in the compartment next to me, I just knew.  Everything was different. There were so many things I never noticed until then; it was like my eyes were finally open.”

Silence filled the air. You couldn’t think of what to say, and even if you did, you wouldn’t know how to say it.  

“Everything about you looked so beautiful all of a sudden. The way you moved or swished your wand, the way your lips enunciated every heavenly word that fell from your tongue. All of it.”

George turned to you nervously. What if I messed it all up? What if that wasn’t the right thing to say? he thought. You stared down at the track, lost in the depths of your mind. 

Everything George had ever spoken to you danced through your brain like ballet; his words sounded like rich and eloquent poetry, even his simple cheers or quips at teachers. Your heart felt like it was beating a million times the speed of the chugging crimson engine.

You rapidly pivoted your head to him, his uncertain gaze immediately locking deeply with yours’. Your eyes were clouded with determination and passion, which reflected in the kiss that you swiftly pulled him into. His lips felt magical against yours’, still oozing with lively youthfulness as always.  

George tenderly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, you wrapped one of your hands around the nape of his neck. The kiss softened, becoming something slow and loving. Your other hand intertwined delicately with his’, which lay softly on your thigh.  

After a while of sugary sweet kissing, George’s lips parted, uttering an “I love you,” lightly.

“I love you, too. Promise me you’ll marry me someday?” You asked, still heavily under the angelic ginger’s trance.  

“You know I couldn’t marry anyone but you, Y/N.”

----

The sun slowly retreated behind the horizon, painting the sky a brilliant and fiery orange, which nearly matched the hue of George’s wind-swept hair.  You languidly rested your head on his broad shoulder, staring out in the distance. Your face lingered with euphoria, courtesy of George’s amazing kisses which had just peppered every inch of it.  

The backpack stocked with snacks you perfectly packed was now filled only with empty food wrappers. Most of the various foodstuffs had found a new home safely in your boyfriend’s black hole of a stomach, leaving you with mere crumbs to chew.  

“Georgie… why’d you have to eat all the snacks?  I’m starving,” you asked dramatically, pretending to be skin-and-bones. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t save enough for you, darling. I would give you some but… y’know… they’re in my stomach.” George petted your hair caringly with a regretful smile, his strong fingers gently brushing through your strands, taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo.

As you sat, gaze towards the breathtaking sunset, George mechanically started braiding a small section of your hair. He had always been an expert at braids; Ginny taught him how to fourth year. His mind was elsewhere than your strands, however, for he was plotting something significantly more mischievous.  

George retracted his hands from your hair, the soothing touch of his fingers dissipating from your scalp. He stood up from the cozy spot beside you, turning to peer through the window of the coach. His eyes scanned the corridor like a hawk, his brain spindling abstract ideas into a devious plan reminiscent of the schemes he so often plotted back at Hogwarts. 

“Georgie, what are you doing?” you asked quizzically. 

After one final glance through the coach window (bearing no reflection), he said with a devilishly handsome and mischievous smirk, “I have a plan.”

Before you could interrogate him any further, in one calculated motion, he swung the emergency door open, leaping inside the train full of students.  

If anyone was skilled enough to pull off whatever he was set on doing, it was George. While Fred was often the instigator of the twins’ famous pranks, George was often pulling the weight of the trick.  

You just hoped the disillusionment charm hadn’t worn off yet.  

----

George silently crept through the corridors of each enchanted coach, elaborately dancing around stray students who occasionally ditched their compartments. His face was scrunched with determination as if he were a raider searching for the holy grail.  

It took all his self-control, and more, to resist sneaking into Malfoy’s compartment and giving him a slap across the head; it was even harder resisting giving Ron a friendly spook, along with the other members of the Golden Trio. He decided to stay on track of his mission, for you and you only.  

Every coach he passed through, he became increasingly more irritated and nervous. Now that he was an adult, there wouldn’t just be a simple ten points deducted from Gryffindor, no. Sneaking onto a train full of students and stealing candy from the poor old lady’s trolley of sweets would be a hefty fine. Molly would definitely not be pleased.  

Finally, in the coach closest to the engine (and unfortunately furthest from the back), laid the trolley, luckily unattended. It was practically overflowing with classic sweets that he used to enjoy so much: colorful Berties Botts Every Flavour Beans (he swears he got a booger flavored one once), towering stacks of frosted cauldron cakes, clear-as-glass sugar quills, and chocolate frogs.   

George, of course, knew your favorite anything and everything like the back of his hand. He swiftly grabbed a package of candy from the bottom rack of the trolley, a twinge of guilt hitting him in the heart. The kind old lady would be down one treat. His guilt was quickly alleviated when magically, another perfectly packaged sweet filled the empty space.  

The expedition back to the caboose was a decidedly more risky one; it’s a lot more obvious that someone is invisible when a piece of candy is levitating midair. Luckily, the darker it got outside, the more students opted for the comfort of their cozy compartments, which fostered the perfect environment for sleeping. After all, when he and Fred would pull pranks on the train, this was the hour they’d hit the hardest.  

He was nearly to the back coach when a now sixth year Neville Longbottom emerged from his cabin, a defeated look on his face. A harshly conquered game of wizard’s chess could be seen, Luna Lovegood sitting next to the board with a neutral smile resting on her lips.  

George had tried to dance around Neville, but Longbottom’s clumsiness was no match for him. Not even a second passed before Neville rammed headfirst into George’s chest, falling backward. He laid on the floor for a minute, dumbfounded, before cautiously getting up, reaching for the floating sweet that George grasped high above his head.

George couldn’t help but mutter a low ‘sorry’ to poor Neville before rapidly darting past him towards the door. Neville looked around suspiciously for a minute longer before accepting the fact that he had likely been the subject of another foul prank.  

Finally, unscathed, George returned to the rear of the train, where you lay half sprawled across the ledge sleepily. Your eyes were closed, your ears focused on the calming rhythmic rattling of the wheels on the track.

A small smile couldn’t help but creep onto George’s face at the sight of you asleep. He gently tapped you awake, a soft hum escaping his lips. Your eyes fluttered open, a loving look glazing them.  

“What is it, Georgie?” you asked, taking in your surroundings.  

“Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t fall asleep here. You’d be sore by the time we get to our destination if you did,” George said with a wink. 

He outstretched his hand like Prince Charming, helping you stand up from the floor. Your rubious-haired boyfriend inconspicuously held his other hand behind his back, concealing the candy in his large palm.   

“Where did you go, George? One moment you’re out here with me, next moment you’re off into the train packed full of people!” you questioned curiously, inspecting George from head to toe.

“Well, you said you were hungry, so naturally....” he said, “I had to get you something to eat.”

George held out a single chocolate frog in his hand like a proud little kid. He wore the exact same smile he sported first year: a look radiating innocence and kindness. You gingerly accepted the frog, slowly unwrapping the chocolate and stuffing the card in your pocket for Ron.  

“...just like first year,” you muttered, barely able to make a sound.

You were seated on the tail of the express once again, eyes pointed towards the inky black and star-blemished sky. George quickly mirrored your actions, comfortably sitting next to you. While you munched on your chocolate frog joyfully, George rested his head on your shoulder, even though he was very much taller than you. He momentarily began humming a lullaby he learned as a baby; the vibrations emitted from his voice box resonated comfortingly through your body.  

His angelic humming echoed lovingly through your brain all the way to Hogwarts.

----

The train screeched to a halt at the Hogwarts station behind the school. The soothing rattle of the train ceased, to your dismay, and exuberant students began to flood out of the express like a tidal wave. You and George trailed far behind the various cliques of students, cracking jokes at the expense of the new first years.  

“Look at that poor one!  He’s fixed to become the new Neville!” you said laughing, before getting a playful elbow from George.  

“McGonagall will have quite the handful with those two over there. Reckon they’ll be tricksters like us?” George asked with a nostalgic laugh, pointing at two boys who were sneakily distributing some sort of (surely hexed) candy to their gullible peers. They looked so much like Fred and George did in their first year, down to the very same expression.  

“No doubt about it,” you said confidently, darting your eyes comparatively from the boys to your boyfriend. “It really is quite uncanny.”

Soon enough, the towering main entrance to the castle was opened with a swish, and the distinctly familiar smell flooded your nostrils. You were finally home once again. Not much had changed since you left, besides the absence of all of Umbridge’s devious decrees, replaced with some friendly-looking paintings.  

“Looks the exact same, doesn’t it?” George whispered, careful to be unnoticed by the excited soon-to-be-sorted first years who were guided to the Great Hall. You nodded yes, clenching his hand harder with exhilaration.  

Instead of risking getting caught during the time-honored Sorting Ceremony, you and George walked aimlessly, enjoying the unique ambiance of the school. After a while of galavanting around the halls, you climbed the moving steps towards the Gryffindor tower.

“Open up, it's George,” he whispered to the portrait of the Fat Lady with a smirk, and surprisingly, she obliged with a pleasantly surprised smile. Your stare flickered from George to the portrait, mouth agape.  

“Let’s just say, me and the Fat Lady have a lot of… history. Oh, not like that!” George let out a laugh followed by an adorable wink.

You gravitated towards the comfortable crimson couches which sat by the large and inviting fireplace, dragging George’s hand behind you.  

Your body melted into the red plush of the couch, the soft material much more desirable than the stiff metal rails of the express. Your carrot-topped better half took a seat next to you, his body intertwining with yours.

Gryffindors threatened to flood into the common room any given moment, so you wasted no time pulling George’s soft shirt to your chest for a gentle and loving kiss.  

“Blimey! Get a room you two!” Ron said, walking towards the two of you from the portrait, gagging.

“I guess the charm’s worn off, Georgie.”

“Just in time, too,” he said with a slightly cocky smile.  

You turned to Ron, who reluctantly held his arms out for a hug. You ran to him with all your might, meeting the messy-haired ginger’s chest. “I’m so glad to see you again.  It’s felt like ages.”

“Glad to see you too, Y/N,” he said with a genuine smile.  

Harry and Hermione entered not long after, a matching perplexed expression on their faces.  “Y/N? George? How’d you get in here? Surely McGonagall wouldn’t permit a visit such as this?” Hermione asked, giving you a small but confused hug.  

“Well, the thing is, no one knows we’re actually here,” George said, a grin on his face.  

“How’d you do it? Sneak in here, I mean,” Harry asked, eager to learn a new way to sneak to the school.  

“Snuck onto the express. Brilliant idea and execution courtesy of my dear Y/N. She’s a genius in training. Learning from the best, of course,” George said sarcastically, his thumb pointing to his chest.  

“Very funny, Georgie.  This one was all me.  My magnum opus, some would say.”

----

The ensuing night was amazing. Laughter echoed through the cherry-tinted walls of the common room like a magnificent orchestra; classic games like spin the bottle and truth or dare were played religiously.  

By the time it struck midnight, your mind had nearly escaped to your hazy dreamscape too many times to count. It had been a long day; you started early with cooking a full breakfast, sneaking onto the Hogwarts Express, and partying for hours into the night with the Gryffindors, all with the love of your life. To say you were exhausted was a massive understatement. 

Harry had graciously offered his comfortable bed to you, Ron reluctantly sacrificing his to George. “You owe me one,” he repeatedly grumbled to his older brother, who plastered a sickly innocent smile on in response.  

George took quick notice of the unfathomable exhaustion plastered onto your face from his couch across from you, immediately announcing to the chatting group of friends, “I think it’s time for me and Y/N to turn in for the night. See you all in the morning.”  

‘Goodnights’ drifted in and out of your ears as George picked you up from the couch bridal-style, carrying you light-as-a feather up the steps to the boys’ dorms. He could envision a furious Head Boy Percy demanding, ‘Put her down, George!  Girls sleep in the girls’ dormitories, boys in the boys’!  They have that rule for a reason!’ 

He smiled as he creaked open the sixth year boys’ dorm’s door, laying you peacefully onto Harry’s scarlet four-poster bed. He grabbed some cozy knitted blankets, gently setting them over your body.

“There you are, angel, have a good nights’ sleep. I love you with all my heart,” George cooed.  He turned to Ron’s bed with a smile before you grasped his hand desperately.

“Before you go to bed Georgie, did you have fun today?  I know you super were stressed out yesterday and all,” your words came out slurred and tired, some borderline incoherent.  

“I have fun any time I’m with you, darling,” he said, smoothing your ruffled hair. “But yes, I had the time of my life with you today. Just being with you makes my day infinitely brighter. You’re like my little sunshine.”

“And will you actually marry me someday, Georgie?” you asked, your droopy eyes filled with an unfathomable and everlasting love. You were deep under the heavenly redhead’s spell once again.

“I always keep my word, darling.”

#george weasley #george weasley x y/n #fred and george #george weasley fluff #george weasley x reader #george fic recs #fred and goerge weasley #fred and george weasley #george weasley one shot #george weasley blurb #george weasley imagine #george weasley x you #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley headcanon #george weasley hc #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #weasley wizard wheezes #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #hp #weasley twins

[bbysamu]

Bandaid

Like I need U series 

⭑ part II ⭑ 

part I ; part III 

⭑ Song: Bandaid by Keshi

⭑ Warning: Minor angst 

⭑ Pairing: Oikawa  x f!reader (slight Tsukishima mention)

Tag list (by request - thank you all for your support): @nachotrash; @whateverfeelz

Oikawa Toru, renowned pretty boy of Aoba Johsai, captain of the volleyball team is known for several things: his fluffy brown hair, charming smile, charismatic personality and killer volleyball skills. 

Less known for his hard work ethic, love for aliens, and crush on one of the Karasuno’s volleyball manager. 

It was a Tuesday, Iwaizumi had texted the captain reminding him of a practice match with Karasuno, where Tobio Kageyama was currently setter. All day Oikawa had been looking forward to this practice match, where he could see Kageyama again to see if Oikawa is still the better setter. After all, he’s been working so hard to make sure he can beat Kageyama. So despite being placed on a break by his coach, Oikawa was sure nothing could stop him from at least playing a little bit in the match. 

When Oikawa arrived, he stood at the door, watching the match, in which Karasuno was currently leading. Annoyed, he did a quick survey of the team. Sure, Karasuno got some tall players and their raven-haired and blonde managers are just as beautiful as rumors but thats it. Karasuno was just another volleyball team. 

Oikawa suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder. He whirled around to find a black-haired girl politely smile up at him. Oikawa’s breath caught in his throat. 

“Excuse me, do you mind letting me through? I’m one of Karasuno’s manager and I’m running a little late” (Y/N) smiled apologetically at tall boy blocking the door. 

“Oh yes, of course of course, sorry about that” Oikawa quickly moved out the way, watching the beautiful manager make her way over to her team. He didn’t miss the way she first glanced around her team before shyly blowing a kiss at the tall blond middle blocker, who pretended to catch it, making her giggle. 

Oikawa was surprised by the disappointment he felt in his heart. He was constantly surrounded by his fan girls, many of whom are pretty, so what was this new feeling? Why was he disappointed to see this beautiful girl, a stranger no less, have a boyfriend? 

The match went by quickly, though still playing at his best, Oikawa’s silly self rivalry with Kageyama took a backseat, as he kept glancing over at her. He saw the way she bit her lips in anticipation when it was Karasuno’s turn to attack, the worry in her eyes when Tsukishima held his fingers, re-adjusting the tape on them, and the smile of relief when he reassured her he was fine. 

After the game, as all were cleaning up, he felt his eyes being drawn over to her again and couldn’t help but listen in on their conversation. He saw how Tsukishima came over to (Y/N), one hand slightly ruffling her hair, the other clutching his waterbottle, asking “hey (Y/n) why were you late today hm?” 

“Sorry babe, Hinata forgot something in class so I had to go back to get it for him”, (Y/N) answered, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him. 

Tsukishima playfully yelled out to Hinata, “hey tangerine head, stop forgetting things and making my girlfriend late to watch me”. 

Oikawa watched as (Y/N) giggled, before playfully hitting her boyfriend, asking him not to be mean to Hinata, as the tiny middle blocker jumped around apologizing to (Y/N). 

Oikawa watched as Tsukishima tenderly pick up (Y/N)’s hand and led her out of the gym, following the rest of the Karasuno. 

“Crappykawa if you keep looking your eyes might fall out”, the familiar sound of his best friend’s voice called out, followed by the snickers of the other Seijoh four. 

Suddenly an eruption of “Oikawa senpai!!!” rang out as girly giggles echoed throughout the gym. Oikawa turned his attention to his fan girls, trying to stop his thoughts from wandering back to Karasuno’s manager, who is clearly in a happy relationship. 

A Few Weeks Later

“Oikawa please stop bouncing around, why the heck are you so twitchy today” Makki called out, trying to get his captain to stop moving around so much. 

“I heard we have a new manager and she used to be from Karasuno” Oikawa sang out loud, “i’m just glad we have a manager after Sana-chan had to leave, or else the team would be a mess!” 

Makki pouted “no need to remind me about Sana, I’m happy for a new manager too”, who’s ex-girlfriend is the previous manager. 

The door suddenly opened and there (Y/N) stood, as beautiful, if not more, as Oikawa remembered. The gym suddenly fell silent, as the rest of the team stood gaping at their new manager. 

A slow blush rose to her cheeks, her eyes shyly cast down for a slight second, before clearing her throat. “Hi boys! My name is (Y/N) and i’ll be your new manager!” She smiled brightly and suddenly everyone was encouraged to approach her. 

Kindaichi bounced up excitedly to her “Hi (Y/N) senpai, thanks for being our manager!” The other boys nodded in agreement. 

The captain stepped forward and couldn’t help the blush rising to his cheeks as Y/N focused her eyes on him. “Has her eyes always been this big, her lashes so long? She’s cute, she’s super cute, oh but she has a boyfriend argh” Oikawa thought to himself, before clearing his throat realizing he stepped forward without saying anything for the past ten seconds. 

After introducing her to the team and making sure she’s settled in, the captain returned to the team for practice, glancing over at her frequently to make sure she’s okay. 

While the other players only noticed her beauty and friendly personality, Oikawa saw a lot more, the way she stared off into space for the tiniest of moments, eyes suddenly glassy before blinking and taking a deep breath or the way she seemed to force herself to smile at nothing. Oikawa frowned, wondering what was going on. 

A few weeks passed, Y/N became more and more comfortable with the team and the team more comfortable with her. Oikawa and Y/N also became much closer friends. It was easy for the two of them to get along, both of them with easy going and optimistic personalities. 

♫ You should have told me I don't know what to say Why are you sorry How did it get this way ♫

Oikawa found it weird that Y/N never mentioned Tsukishima, until one day after school. Y/N, Oikawa and the rest of the Seijoh four decided to stop by Starbucks after school for a quick pick-me-up after a long, tiring day before heading back for practice. 

Oikawa watched Y/N furrowed her brows in frustration. 

“Argh I don’t know what to choose! Mattsun what would you rather have ? matcha latte or strawberry frapp?” Y/N asked 

Matsukawa wrinkled his nose in disgust “ew neither”. 

The rest of the boys laughed as Y/N hit Mattsun out of frustration, laughters quickly drowning out Mattsun’s protest “Y/N why are you hitting me for your inability to choose!!” 

As sudden as the laughter began, it died as the boys looked at the clear look of shock on your face. Oikawa following your eyes saw the tall blonde middle blocker hand-in-hand with another girl (who was wayyy not as cute as Y/N ,Oikawa thought to himself). 

He saw the way Tsukishima’s shock mirrored Y/N’s, before his girlfriend, with a slight smirk, pulled the tall player down to herself to give him a quick kiss. 

Oikawa whipped his head to look at Y/N’s, who now with slight tears around her eyes, quickly wiped them and said to the captain “just get me a matcha latte please, i’ll..um...wait for you guys outside”. Putting on a brave smile, Y/N walked past Tsukishima and Yuki before heading outside. 

Oikawa looked at the rest of his friends in shock, before running out after Y/N, leaving the rest of the Seijoh boys to throw nasty looks at Tsukishima and Yuki. 

The pretty setter found Y/N in the alley outside the coffee shop wiping tears from her eyes. As soon as Y/N sees Oikawa, she threw him a feeble smile, nose red from crying. Without thinking, Oikawa threw his arms around her and drew her close. 

“He cheated on me, I don’t know why. I’m sorry” Y/N whispered against his chest. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault” Oikawa replied. 

The two stood there in a tight embrace, one heart broken, one heart breaking for the one broken. 

♫ I'm afraid That bandaids Are no good For heartache ♫

“I like you Y/N” Oikawa murmured, unable to stop himself from confessing. 

Y/N stiffened at his confession, trying to pull away but the setter pulled her tighter. 

“It’s okay, I’m not expecting anything. I just want you to know”.

Y/N looked up at him, eyes wet with tears. “I’m sorry Toru, but i’m afraid.”

Oikawa smiled “Don’t worry I’m here for you, I’ll wait for you for as long as you need”. 

Bandaids are no good for heartache, but Oikawa Toru doesn’t want to be your bandaid, he wants to be your heart. 

#haikyuu imagines #oikawa x y/n #haikyuu scenarios #oikawa x you #oikawa x reader #hq imagines #hq tsukishima #tsukishima angst #hq scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #hq fluff

[yannowhatigiveup]

My One And Only - Chapter 13

Previous | Next | Master List

So this chapter is probably as long as the first, maybe just a word or two longer idk idk. This story here has nearly caught up where I am right now so the updates will be less frequen, I’m also starting school again so yeah. The one-shot that I’m writing is nearly at 10k words and it’s not even that good-

"God, you really are an Angel". The blush on her face was very noticeable. She smiled at him before using her yo-yo to bring her to the akumatized victim. He watched as her silhouette jumped from rooftop to rooftop. Once she was out of sight, Damian looked back at the sunset. He chuckled to himself. "I guess when you bumped into me the other day, you gave me some of your Lady Luck".

———————————————————

"Wait wait wait, take two steps back." Chloe put both her hands up in confusion. "So you went to Andre's and what were the flavors that she got?"

"She got dark honey, lime and rose" Kagami answered.

"But he never explained the meaning behind them, which he always does" Alya added. Alya, Chloe and Kagami were in the blonde's room talking about the ice cream 'date' they went on with Marinette the other day.

"That reminds me, Alya?" Kagami asked. "Do you still think the ice cream represents Chat Noir?"

Chloe just blinked in surprise. "No, I met the guy recently" Alya replied. "He's perfect for her. Actually I should text him to see how Mari's doing" Alya took her phone out as Kagami nodded slowly. Chloe still looked like she was trying to wrap her head around the whole situation.

"So Mare-Bare has a crush on this 'foreign exchange student' and Alya met him the other day?" Kagami nodded, slightly amused at the blonde's confusion. "Do you think he likes her back?" Her question was both directed at Kagami and Alya who was still on her phone.

"Yeah I'm sure he does- wait he sent something" Alya let out a squeal of fangirlism as Chloe and Kagami went over to see what Alya was gushing over. Once the two girls came over, The reporter showed them a photo that got sent to her. It was Marinette, sound asleep on what Kagami and Chloe thought was the boy's chest. She was smiling and looked at peace.

"They look adorable~" Chloe cooed, having the same bright smile as Alya.

"He better not hurt Mari-hime" Kagami muttered, a soft smile appearing on her face as she looked at the photo.

~~~

"Pound it!"

Ladybug and Chat Noir managed to defeat the villain, it was Sandboy again. He was at a sleepover and some of his friends told a scary story, and the rest was common knowledge. Ladybug was about to yo-yo out of there but Chat Noir stopped her before she could do so.

"Ladybug, wait"

'This can't be good, he barely ever sounds this serious' She wrapped the yo-yo back around her waist before answer. "Kitty, is something wrong?"

"Well-" he was cut-off by the sound of his miraculous beeping.

"We can talk about this next time, ok?". After he hesitantly nodded, Ladybug got her yo-yo. "Bug out!"

She landed in an alley near Le Grand Paris and de-transformed. Marinette then took the opportunity to process what happened. 'Lila said something bad, I got upset, I went to Damian's, He took me on a walk, We kissed, He asked me to be his girlfriend, I showed him I was Ladybug, I-' her train of thoughts stoppped. "Oh my god, I told him I was Ladybug" she breathed. Her kwami then flew in front of her face. "OhmygodohmygodiamsososososorryTikkiididn'tmean-"

"It's perfectly fine Marinette!" The bluenette was was cut off by Tikki's giggling. "There's something about that lover of yours, I can't quite place it but I know we can trust him"

Marinette blushed at Tikki's words but nodded. "Y-yeah, thanks Tikki".

The bluenette soon reached the hotel door that was all too familiar to her now, her face reddened slightly at the thought. She still let herself in though, making sure to lock the door behind her. When she had closed the door, she noticed her demon reading on the sofa, he put his book down as he noticed Marinette walk in. She walked over and stood behind the sofa, looking down on Damian as because she was standing, she was taller. He looked up and smirked at her.

"You know," her boyfriend began. "I had high suspicions of you being Ladybug, though, I couldn't be certain."

"How come your suspicions were so high?" Marinette asked, still smiling.

"Well when you're a vigilante yourself, I suppose it can be easier to pin point others' secret identities"

She smiled while rolling her eyes and kissed his forehead. She seemed tired and Damian made a mental note to tell her again later when she was more energized. Marinette then went to sit in the sofa and snuggle into Damian's muscular chest.

"Don't you have questions?" She murmured, she was too comfortable to move her head up.

"I do but they can wait" Damian stroked his fingers through his angel's hair. 'My Angel...' "You're tired"

"I'm not-" her yawn contradicted the words that were about to leave her lips and she grumbled in annoyance while Damian chuckled. "If I do sleep wake me up before 9, Maman and Papa are going to the airport and I want to say goodbye"

Damian remembered that Marinette's parents would be going to Marseille for around a week, they were going to open up a second location there as they had become well known in that part of the country. "Alright" he softly answered, he assumed that Marinette had fallen asleep already and his assumption was correct when he felt her slow and steady breathing. At that moment he got a message on his phone, a message from Alya. She was asking about Marinette's current predicament and Damian sent a picture of Marinette sleeping soundly, a smile on her face. He wasn't purposely trying to stay out of the frame but he wasn't in it either way.

Me: She's doing much better than earlier today, it would be best if Marinette would be the one to address what was wrong

Césaire: Oh ok, I'm glad she's feeling better

Césaire: u 2 look adorable af tho

If he blushed at that comment, no one would know. Damian put his phone down to look at his sleeping Angel. He smiled to himself and picked the bluenette up bridal style. He brought her to his bed and tucked her in to let her sleep, not before planting a kiss on her forehead, though. Damian focused his vision on the digital clock on the nightstand. '7:47 I'll let Marinette sleep until 9' His thoughts were interrupted by a small, squeaky voice.

"Damian"

His head quickly turned in the direction of the voice. 'I swear I didn't hear anyone else enter-' Damian had to blink twice. In front of him was a small, red, bug-like creature. 'What the fu-'

"Damian my name is Tikki, I am Marinette's kwami" she held her tiny arm out and Damian hastily lifted on of his finger's for the kwami to shake, he didn't know what else to do if he was being honest. "I understand that you have questions so you may ask some now, though, I understand if there are some you would like to ask her personally"

He nodded. "What....what is a kwami?" He asked hesitantly, not wanting to offend the kwami and still trying to get a hold of this new information.

"A kwami is, I guess, a miniature god that lives inside of a miraculous. The kwami is what gives the user's miraculous their powers as well as their hero costume. A miraculous is a piece of jewelry that grants the user powers. Marinette's miraculous is the Miraculous of the Laadybug, the earrings. They give her the power of Creation and Good luck" Damian nodded slowly, now back sitting on the couch. "Marinette in trusted you with her secret identity, I sense that I can trust you as well but I want to you to promise to keep her identity a secret, unless she says otherwise"

"Don't worry I will, I of all people should know the importance of keeping a secret identity a secret"

"You're a superhero?" Tikki questioned, not hearing what Damian told Marinette earlier

"Vigilante" he corrected.

"I guess that's why you have a trusting aura" Tikki pondered. "Thank you Damian, for making Marinette so happy"

"Anything to make her smile"

~~~

"Habibti, it's time to wake up" Damian gently shook Marinette's shoulder.

".......nnwhy" Marinette buried her face further into the pillow.

"You said you wanted to see your parents go to the airport, correct?"

"Oh right!" She jumped out of bed, any signs of tiredness was now gone. Damian chuckled slightly and moved towards her, he brought the ribbon he had taken earlier and put her hair back up in a ponytail. "Thanks!" She exclaimed after looking in the mirror. "I know I said I would explain everything but can I do that after we say goodbye to my parents?"

"Of course Angel"

She smiled brightly and the two walked out of the hotel to her parents' bakery, their arms linked together. As they arrived, they noticed two figures with bags and a taxi with it's boot open.

"Maman, Papa we came to say goodbye" Marinette walked over to her parents with Damian by her side, tilting her head slightly in confusion as they both smiled smugly at the couple.

"You came earlier than we thought you would Marinette and hello again...Damian is it?" Marinette's mother asked.

"Yes it is, it's a pleasure to meet you Mr Dupain, Mrs Cheng"

"No need for formalities son, Tom and Sabine" Tom said, giving Damian a bone-crushing hug.

"Papa!"

"Tom, dear, we don't want to suffocate the poor boy"

"Oh right!" Tom then put Damian down. "Is it safe to say that I assume you are Marinette's boyfriend?" The man asked, looking very joyfully at the blushing couple.

"Y-yeah" Damian murmured while Marinette nodded and both parents shot them big smiles.

"We were debating when that was going to happen" Sabine admitted with a shrug.

"Maman!"

"Oh would you look at the time, we better get going" Sabine smiled smugly, ignoring her daughter's protest. Both her and Tom engulfed Marinette in a hug and beckoned Damian to join in.

"Bye Maman, Bye Papa!"

"Goodbye Sabine, Goodbye Tom"

The couple watched the taxi leave for the airport, they stood in comfortable silence.

"So should I explain everything now? I can sleep over at your place if you want all the details" Marinette asked, blushing slightly at what she just said.

Damian realised that she was referring to sleeping over in his hotel room, honestly, he didn't mind. "If you want to"

"Great! Wait here I'll get my things"

~~~

"...and you're Multimouse too?" Damian continued after Marinette nodded. "Wow, that is...a considerable amount of information. And you called Tikki a 'bug-mouse'?" He chuckled amused at the flushed face his girlfriend now had.

"It was one time! The first time I saw her! Do you think I would have acted any differently?" She pouted and Damian took the opportunity to kiss her. He then got up to look at the time, smirking as he noticed the flushed bluenette in his peripheral vision. "Also, how did you work out that I was Ladybug?"

"For starters, I researched her- well, you and I couldn't help but notice how similar you two were, in build and personality. From there I just connected the dots"

"Huh, usually there's magic that prevents others from noticing things like that but it didn't work on you for some odd reason. That's- wait" she paused and blinked and then looked straight in Damian's eyes. Before he could voice out his confusion, she spoke again. "Did- did you just...make a pun?"

His forest green eyes widened "...no"

She laughed for a good while, especially when seeing the look on Damian's face. After she composed herself, she changed the subject. "Now it's your turn to explain, Shaytan"

"Hm alright, are you familiar with the vigilantes in Gotham?" He asked.

"The Bat-family? Are you one of Batman's comrades?" Marinette looked up at her boyfriend, wide-eyed with fascination like a child's. Damian couldn't help but melt at her expression.

"Yes and yes, my vigilante persona is known as-" he was about to tell her that he was Robin before she cut him off.

"Wait can I take a guess" Damian gestured her to do so. "Hmmmm considering your age, my options are narrowed down to one of the Batboys. Looking at your build I'd say that you are..Robin!" She said his name with great certainty.

He clapped while smiling. "You are correct, yet again"

"I'm surprised though, you don't seem like the type to be a traffic light" she teased.

"Tt, stop rubbing more salt in the wound" he groaned.

Marinette giggled. "So your brothers are the other Robins and your father is Batman, I presume?" Damian nodded. "Wow...who knew that two heroes from different places would fall in love?"

"I suppose I did" He looked at the clock again, it was 11:58. "It's getting late"

Marinette followed his vision to the clock. "Huh, I didn't even realise that the time flew by so quickly" she then got up to rearrange some of the pillows on the couch.

"What are you doing?" He asked, confused.

The bluenette looked at him, also confused. "I'm sleeping on the couch, right?"

"You can sleep on the bed, you are the guest after all. I can sleep on the couch"

"No, couldn't possibly! It's your room!"

The bickering went back and forth between the two while Tikki watched in amusement. 'If Plagg were here, he'd only add more fuel to the fire'. Most could argue that the relationship between the couple was moving too quickly but Tikki knew otherwise. The magic of the miraculous was at work. Only the true holders of the Ladybug miraculous and the miraculous of the Black Cat would be affected. That isn't always the case though, they would only be attracted to one another if the feelings they had were romantic and mutual. To most, it would appear that they were moving too quickly. But for the kwami, it was just a sign that the two true holders were found, and they were found together. 'I do have to tell Plagg, though'. Then the small kwami got an idea. "Why don't you both just sleep on the bed?"

The two then turned to Tikki, both faces were red but Marinette's shone through the most. The small kwami merely had an innocent smile on her face.

"...I-I guess that's manageable" Damian murmured.

"O-ok" Marinette mumbled, clearly too flushed for her own good.

~~~

"Alright Mari-bear, spill the beans"

Marinette had breakfast at Damian's before going home to change, she had to meet Jagged and Penny again to record and to discuss the name of the song because, for whatever reason, they hadn't done that yet. After, she promised that she would hang out with Alya, Chloe and Kagami in the blonde's room but she didn't expect to be interrogated. She briefly sugar-coated what Lie-la did and said, luckily her friends took the hint that she didn't want to talk about it. She also gained a new nickname, or a variant of one. Marinette noticed how Chloe interchangeably used 'Mare-Bare' and 'Mari-Bear' but they were more or less the same thing.

"Wha-" They all gave made a knowing face, the 'you know what I mean' face. She let out a defeated sigh. "S-so um...yesterday he asked me to be his girlfriend". The bluenette prepared herself for whatever was going to happen next, what followed was an ungodly amount of fangirl squeals. Even Kagami seemed to let one out.

"You said yes, right?" Kagami asked with a joyful tone. Marinette nodded. "So what's his full name?"

Marinette took a deep breath. "Queenie, do you keep track of who is staying in the hotel?"

"I guess" The blonde replied, glancing at her nails. "Why'd you ask?"

"Well, he's staying in room 301"

"Hm...that's one of the expensive rooms so that means-" Chloe let out a gasp of realisation. "No fucking way! How-" she then bursted out laughing, Marinette giggled as well.

"You lost me" Kagami looked between the two while Alya just shrugged her shoulders.

"Mari, Damian Wayne is your boyfriend? How you managed to thaw the Ice prince of Gotham's heart I will never know, only you Dupain-Cheng" Chloe, now recovering from laughing, was now looking at Marinette with admiration and interest.

"Wait, THE Damian Wayne?!" Alya gaped at Marinette.

"Y-yeah" The bluenette stammered and tried to hide her blush with her hands

"What's he like?"

"Is he as cold as they all say?"

"Does he treat you right?"

Marinette was bombarded with many questions regarding Damian. She struggled to keep up with each and every one of them. 'Is this what it feels like to be inundated by paparazzi?' She thought teasingly.

~~~

It was around noon. A spotted heroine jumped from roof top to roof top. She had just finished her patrol and was headed towards the Eiffel Tower, Chat Noir wanted to talk to her about something. He seemed serious too. Ladybug was slightly concerned for her friend, seeing Chat Noir act serious was a very rare sight. She voiced her concerns to Damian before she went out on patrol.

"You said he values your friendship, correct? In that case he probably wants to shelter you from whatever information he stumbled upon"

Marinette jokingly scoffed. "I'm not a damsel in need of protection thank you very much"

Damian smiled and hugged Marinette from behind while resting his chin on her head. "I know Angel, I know. That won't stop me from protecting you though"

Ladybug used her yo-yo as a grappling hook and landed gracefully on the top floor of the Eiffel Tower. Not surprisingly, Chat Noir was already there, waiting for her.

"Kitty?" The spotted heroine asked after a short moment of silence. "Is everything okay?"

The cat-themed hero sat on the floor, Ladybug sat in front of him and after a big breath, he spoke. "Ladybug, I- I don't think I'm the true holder of the Black Cat miraculous"

———

Taglist: @little-bluestar, @miracleofadisaster, @frieddonutsweets, @jjmjjktth, @genderfluidmoma, @starlit-dreaming, @icerosecrystal, @lolieg, @kashlyn, @mochegato, @eggadoodle, @walkingthroughonautopilot, @toodaloo-kangaroo

#daminette #maridami #maribat #damian x marinette #marinette x damian #damianette #mlb x dc #ml x dc

[evermoreweasley]

all I want is now (fred weasley x reader)

(all images are from pinterest)

summary: your boyfriend, Fred Weasley, knows just what to do when you’ve had a long week at work and are missing the simplicity of the past

warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol & drinking (wine), brief mention of battle of Hogwarts, kissing, happy tears, suggestive comments, undressing, steamy but no actual smut

a/n: honestly, I was inspired by the song set down your glass by snow patrol

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @witchyweasley @sarcasticallywitty15 @wand3ringr0s3 please message me if you’d like to be added or removed!

word count: 1.6k

---

You had an extremely long week at work. On Monday, you had to train new employees, on Tuesday you had to sort out all the inventory, and sort through boxes to try to find a missing order. On Wednesday, you visited your boyfriend Fred Weasley in his shop during your lunch break. You reminisced on your old days at Hogwarts, and the simplicity of it. 

He nodded in response, smirking as he recalled the late night rendezvous in empty classrooms. You smiled as you went on about the carefree days in the common room and cherished nights wandering the corridors. You didn’t have to worry about training employees, or inventory, or missing orders. It was so simple back then, not a worry at all. 

You were more than thankful that it was now finally Friday. Fred had appeared in your shop that morning, he brought you a latte and many kisses to your forehead. You were so busy you barely got to speak two words to him. Lovingly, he smiled at you and simply told you he’d see you back at your apartment that night.

As the owner of a bustling and busy shop in Diagon Alley, you happily sighed as you closed up the shop for the night. You quickly dipped your head under the hood of your coat as you walked outside, the rain was coming down in a light drizzle as you crossed the street. The rain lightly hit at your eyelashes and you quickly blinked as the droplets fell onto your cheeks. You didn’t mind though, and smiled as you felt the coolness on your skin. Walking into the Hog’s Head Inn, you passed by many people celebrating and chatting as they drank fire whiskey and butterbeer. Smiling at the man behind the counter, you purchased a bottle of your favorite red wine before thanking him and quickly apparating back to your apartment. 

With a quick pop, you landed back into your apartment. The sound of your high heeled black boots loudly clicking across the hardwood floor as you made your way to the closet to put your coat away. You wiped the remaining rain droplets over your rough denim blue jeans as you made your way to the coffee table, trying desperately to open the wine bottle. A curse fell from your lips as you looked for a wine bottle opener.

“My girl is home,” A calm, familiar voice spoke out behind you. You could hear a slight smirk in his tone and you smiled.

“Hi, Freddie,” You turned to see Fred walking towards you, a well fitting and cozy maroon jumper and casual black jeans placed upon his tall, handsome figure. You sucked in a breath as you caught his deep chocolate brown eyes. The sight of him causing you to go truly breathless never went away.

“Allow me,” He smirked at you, lightly chuckling as he placed a quick spell on the wine bottle. The cork immediately flew upwards before catching it easily in his free hand. He grabbed your wine glass from you kindly, as he poured the wine.

“Of course,” you lightly giggled at yourself. “How could I forget to use magic,”

“You’ve had quite the long week, darling,” Fred breathed out as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear lovingly. He disappeared quickly into the kitchen before reappearing with a second wine glass, pouring some for himself.

He took a long sip from his glass as he deeply stared at you, your beauty truly made his heart beat out of his chest. “I got you something,” He started as he pulled his eyes momentarily away from yours as he placed his hand inside his deep jeans pocket. “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Freddie,” you hummed, smiling as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut. Fred just gently tutted at your words.

Fred had been nothing but the sweetest boyfriend to you, but it didn’t all start out that way. You had been friends since your first year at Hogwarts but after a while, you felt yourself slowly separating from him due to your growing feelings, these feelings were so new and foreign to you at the time and you were confused. 

In the fifth year, you were still friends but felt yourself always side eyeing the older twin as he constantly tried to distract you from your schoolwork. He would charm pieces of parchment to fly up and gently bounce off your head to try to get your attention. Each time, looking back at him, he would be waving with a cheeky grin on his face. You tried to ignore your undeniable feelings for him, in the sixth year you even took a random Slytherin to the Yule Ball, but you couldn’t ever get Fred off of your mind. 

One day in the seventh year, after Herbology class, Fred walked up to you with his famous smirk and a bouquet of light pink roses, your favorite. You were prepared to turn on your heels and walk down the opposite corridor but instead, smiled shyly at him across the hallway, finally ready to face your feelings. You started to date that night and later, after the battle of Hogwarts, you moved in together, in an old apartment with hardwood floors, a roaring fireplace, and wide, beautiful windows that looked onto the busy street below.

“Open your eyes.”

You opened your eyes at Fred in front of you, before trailing down to his open palm. Your eyes grew wide as you looked over what he held out for you. A delicate, striking gold chain held in the center a glass heart which contained a light pink rose flower petal from that same bouquet so many years ago. The bouquet that started your relationship, the first gift Fred ever got you. Your eyes teared up as your fingers lightly traced the glass heart, the one that encased your favorite gift.

“May I?” He asked as he smiled down at you. You nodded eagerly, you were truly speechless. Fred moved behind you before gently pushing your hair to the side as he clasped the necklace around your neck, your hand flying up to gently stroke at the gift. 

“I remember you charmed the flowers to never die all those years ago, but I wanted to give you a way to wear them. When you said you were having a rough week, I just knew I had to do this for my girl.”

“Oh, Freddie, thank you,” you breathed out as you turned to face him. “I love it.”

“Y/n,” He breathed out as he ran his smooth fingers gently down your cheek. “I know you miss the easy going days of the past, but,” He scanned your face before falling on your eyes, smiling. “All I want is now,” You stared deeply into his deep chocolate brown eyes. “To be present with you. Everyday for the rest of my life.”

You beamed up at him as you nodded. “Me too, Freddie. I love you,” You ran your fingers through his fiery red hair as the joyful tears pooling in the corners of your eyes spilled out onto your cheeks. 

“I love you, my angel,” he hummed. 

Fred quickly ran his fingers back down, wiping the tears away before he leaned down to kiss you. Gently at first, but the intensity of his lips against yours soon picked up. The feeling of butterflies sprung to life in your stomach, reminding you of their presence. Fred’s big, strong hands danced around your waist as he pulled you down to the couch, so you were now on top of him. As you straddled him, with your legs on either side of him, you smiled under the kiss. You moved away, only momentarily, to remove his maroon sweater, as you did so, it lightly caught on the band of your gold watch. The thread of the maroon material catching until a small tear appeared. 

You cursed as you watched it happen, before catching Fred’s eye, but he only smirked in response. “That eager to get me naked that you tore my jumper, hmmm, angel?” He hummed teasingly. A giggle escaped your lips as you ran your hand up and down his now bare, toned torso. You nodded as you bit down on your bottom lip. 

“I’ll forgive you if you remove your jumper too, angel,” he hummed, staring intensely into your eyes as a lazy smirk fell across his face.

You lightly blushed as you quickly removed your jumper, leaving you in front of your boyfriend in your black lace bra. Fred sucked in a breath in excitement, as you leaned over him, grabbing your wine glass before taking a sip, being sure to not break eye contact with him while doing so. 

“Set down your glass,” He spoke out, as his chocolate brown eyes grew darker.

You cocked your head to the side at him in response before smiling innocently at him, batting your eyelashes. “Why’s that, Freddie?”

He tutted as his smirk grew wider at your words. He gently placed your wine glass back on the coffee table before flipping you over so you were now laying underneath him on the couch. “That’s why,” he chuckled as he peppered your face with soft kisses. You giggled happily as you pushed your head deeper into the plush pillows underneath you. With one hand around Fred’s neck you pulled him down to you to kiss your lips, with the other you felt the coolness of your necklace around your neck and you smiled. More than grateful to be right here, right now. 

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x you

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Hello love! Could I request Who by Lauv ft. BTS, slow burn love and Skinny Sisk? Nobody ever writes about him. He’s so underrated!💓

Hello angel! Thank you for the request!! 🤗This was so fun, Skinny really is so underrated! (P.S. I'm slowly making my way through the rest of the requests. THANK YOU to everyone who sent them in, it's been so fun writing these.)

Skinny downed the rest of his beer, which was mainly froth now. He was supposed to meet Dalia half an hour ago but she had only just arrived and seemed in no rush to find him. They hadn’t even made eye contact yet, but he had spotted her. Like always, she was the most striking woman in the room, impossible not to notice. When she first entered she had been immediately rewarded with greetings from acquaintances, mostly men. Skinny wasn’t really the jealous type; he was only jealous of her time. Dalia didn’t seem to have a lot of it. The time she did have was often split between many people and Skinny had to wait his turn. That night, he noticed gloomily, she had brought a golden haired friend dressed in yellow. She was beautiful, but Skinny only saw her as one more person he had to share Dalia with.

He and Dalia had been dating - well kind of - for months now. After a string of successful dates Skinny had asked Dalia if she would like to go steady with him. She explained she wasn’t ready, so Skinny was patient. After a few more weeks he asked again, but Dalia had another excuse. She continued to flirt with him and Skinny continued to wait anchored in the hope that one day she would accept him as hers. But lately he was beginning to feel like a chump.

Finally, Dalia made her way over to him, the girl in the yellow dress trailing behind her.

“Hi Wayne,” Dalia gave him a kiss on the cheek. He leaned in to kiss her on the other cheek but she was already moving out of the way. He let his hand linger around her waist as she introduced him the stranger.

“This is Natasha, she’s an old friend from home,” Dalia smiled toothily, “I brought her to work for you boys.”

“Yes,” Natasha’s smile was strained, “Dalia was kind enough to recommend me for a job.” It was clear that they had recited this script more than a few times.

“Nice to meet you,” Skinny shook Natasha’s hand. He was keenly aware of Dalia’s eyes on him and he wanted to make a good impression. “So you’re from Maryland too?”

Natasha nodded, “never lived anywhere else, until now that is.”

“And what made you want to work here?” Skinny asked politely. He felt Dalia on his right turn to respond to another man’s catcall. She giggled and it took all of Skinny’s concentration to focus on what Natasha was saying.

Suddenly, Dalia touch his arm, interrupting the conversation, “I’ll be back, don’t go anywhere you two,” she winked at them then disappeared into the crowd.

Skinny stared helplessly at Natasha for a moment before regaining himself. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure,” Natasha smiled wearily at him. They approached the bar and continued talking.

“So you're one of Dalia’s boyfriends?”

Skinny nearly spilled the drinks in surprise, “um not quite. We’re dating but…”

“but can’t get her pinned down?” Natasha accepted a glass from him.

“We’re taking things slow.”

Natasha nodded but didn’t say anything more on the subject. Much to Skinny’s disappointment he didn’t see much of Dalia for the rest of the night. She was busy talking and flirting with other groups of the bar’s patrons. Every time Skinny began to feel down about it he reminded himself that Natasha had it worse. Her friend had all but abandoned her; at least Skinny knew other people in the bar. Natasha was new to the city and had no one. Skinny made a point of sticking with her, which turns out was far from a burden. Natasha was fun to hang out with. She was kind and had this quiet humor about her that Skinny found quite entertaining. He wasn’t the only one to notice either.

“Who was that dame you were chattin’ up Skinny? Don’t think I’ve seen her around,” Joe Liebgott asked as they walked home together.

Skinny dug his hands deep into his pockets, trying to get his mind off of Dalia. “That was Natasha, Dalia’s friend from home. She just moved here.”

Joe raised a curious eyebrow, “she got a fella?”

Skinny shrugged, “dunno.”

He soon found out that Natasha was in fact single but not looking. On another night out Dalia had once again abandoned them. Skinny, the dutiful wannabe boyfriend, stuck by her friend. As Skinny’s friends were collecting refills, he and Natasha enjoyed the last of their drinks. That’s when a drunken soldier came up to them. Natasha grabbed Skinny’s arm when the soldier began hitting on her.

“I don’t think my boyfriend would like that,” she responded when he invited her to do some explicit things in the back alley.

The soldier looked at them suspiciously, “he’s your boyfriend?” he gestured sloppily at Skinny.

Skinny was lost for words but he nodded his head when Natasha looked up at him with a pleading look. The defeated soldier scoffed but stumbled off to find a new victim for his harassment.

“Thanks,” Natasha said, but there was little gratitude in her voice.

“Does that happen often?” Skinny asked with concern.

“All the time,” Natasha smiled dryly at him, “not to brag.”

“Do you actually have a boyfriend?” Skinny asked.

Natasha snorted, “no, but are you surprised? When those are my options?” she gestured at the retreating soldier. Skinny took the opportunity to really look at her. They had spent all this time together but he had always been so distracted by the distant shadow of Dalia. The faintest freckles were endearingly sprinkled across Natasha’s nose, and her hair shone bright even in the dim lighting of the bar. Any guy would be lucky to have her, Skinny thought, no wonder she got hit on so often.

Skinny and Natasha found themselves in each other’s company many times as he continued to pine after Dalia. At points, he wondered if he actually knew Natasha better than he knew Dalia. But those thoughts quickly dissipated as soon as he lay eyes on Dalia again. Sure, Natasha was easy to be around; Skinny felt like himself when he was with her. But Dalia was electric. She was beautiful, and charming, and he was addicted. He was willing to do anything just for a few moments of her attention.

One night Skinny settled into a chair beside Natasha, his eyes on Dalia.

“You know you don’t have to sit with me,” Natasha said. Her feet were propped up on a stool and her dress skirts hung messily, hiked up her legs. Skinny shrugged in response.

“Go have fun with your friends! Or go talk to Dalia!” Natasha urged him.

Skinny looked over to where Dalia was laughing with a co-ed group, “she’s busy, I’ll talk to her later.”

Natasha smiled pitifully at him.

“What?” he asked.


“You’re a sweet guy, Wayne,-"

“You know you don’t gotta call me that,” Skinny said, “really only Dalia does. Everyone else calls me Skinny or Sisk.”

Natasha nodded, “well maybe it’s not my place, but if it were me, I don’t know if I’d stick around for Dalia.”

“What do you mean?” Skinny asked innocently, though he had idea of what was coming. He had heard if from his buddies before: whipped.

“Dalia’s an old friend, I think she’s lovely, but she’s always been like this,” Natasha said. “How long have you guys been dating? How long have you been waiting around for her?”

Skinny didn’t respond but he turned to look directly at her. Natasha’s eyes were like pools of melted chocolate and Skinny felt the oddest sensation looking into them. “Clearly she’s not giving you the attention you want,” Natasha continued, “and you deserve someone who gives you what you want and need.” Skinny looked away, those round brown eyes were making his stomach flip in the most peculiar way.

He shrugged, “yeah, maybe.”

“Anyways,” Natasha sipped her drink, “that’s my two cents. Do what you want with it.”

Skinny tried to ignore Natasha’s words but they gnawed at him every time Dalia rebuked him. Slowly, his thoughts of Dalia began to be replaced by images of Natasha; of her laughing, playing darts, and those big, warm eyes.

One weekend Skinny and his friends met up with Dalia and Natasha a dance in the local city hall.


“You gonna ask her to dance or what?” Joe Liebgott pointed to where Natasha was sitting on a bench on the edge of the dance floor. Dalia hadn’t left the dance floor since she got there. It seemed nearly impossible to get on her dance card.

“You’re not seriously waiting around for a dance with Dalia are you?” Joe asked him.

“I don’t know who else to dance with!” Skinny said.

“Natasha,” Joe gestured, “obviously!” Skinny hesitated. “Skinny, Dalia is a khaki wacky, it’s about time you get over her. There’s a perfectly good dame over there who you’re clearly into!”

Skinny stared at his friend in confusion, “into? Who? Natasha?”


“Yes.”

“I’m not into Natasha.”

“Are you kidding me? You two are inseparable,” Joe said.

“We’re friends,” Skinny shrugged.

Joe rolled his eyes, “sure, well, go ask your friend to dance. She looks lonely over there.” Joe disappeared into the crowd, leaving Skinny to his own devices.

Skinny finally asked Natasha to dance but of course, with his luck, as soon as they were on the floor a slow song for lovers came on. He wasn’t going to be rude and ask her to wait for the next song so he pulled Natasha close and they began to dance. The lights dimmed as the music slowed. The scent of rose wafted up from Natasha’s hair and Skinny couldn’t help but think how perfectly she fit in his arms. He didn’t think of Dalia once, that is until the song came to an end. Natasha reached up and pressed her lips against his. For a moment, Skinny leaned into the kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, her breath sweet. Then a vision of Dalia came into his mind. Skinny broke the kiss and was met by Natasha’s questioning brown eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Natasha asked.

“But we’re, we-,” Skinny stumbled, “we’re friends?”

Natasha stepped out of his embrace, her face flushed pink. She turned and hurried off the dance floor. Skinny followed after her, “Natasha, wait!” he called. But she didn’t slow down until she reached a corner of the hall.

“What?” she hissed. Her arms were crossed and her eyes darted around the dance hall to see who may be eavesdropping.

“That kiss,” he gestured at the dance floor, “I just- you kissed me.”

“Yeah, and?” she demanded in a hushed voice.

“Well, we’re friends,” he repeated dumbly.

“No, we’re not friends,” she said coldly, but there was hurt in her eyes. “You’re just an idiot in love with my friend, and I was a fool to think you’d ever get over her.”

Skinny looked as if he had been smacked. His mouth hung open in shock as he desperately searched for the words to respond.

“See you around, Skinny.” The disappointment was clear in her voice. And then the girl in the yellow dress was was gone.

Skinny wandered back to where Joe and their other friends were standing around chatting.

“What wrong Skinny?” Floyd Talbert asked.

“I fucked up,” Skinny said. Mentally he was kicking himself. Why had he reacted so stupidly? He had enjoyed that kiss!

Joe looked at him with a knowing look. “What happened?” Floyd asked.

“I just- I didn’t realize what was right in front of me until it was too late.

Joe nodded sagely. Floyd looked between Skinny and Joe in confusion, “what was right in front of you?”

“You know what you gotta do right?” Joe said, ignoring Floyd.

“What?” Floyd asked.

Skinny swallowed and looked at the floor, “it’s too late, I embarrassed her. She’ll never forgive me.”

“All ya gotta do is say you're sorry!” Joe said, “and mean it!”

“I don’t know Joe,” Skinny said hesitantly.

“Is anyone gonna tell me what’s going on?” Floyd asked flatly.

“The longer you wait, the worse it's gonna get,” Joe insisted.

Skinny took a deep breath considering his friend's words. He exhaled, and after a pause said, “okay, okay,” he felt the confidence growing inside of him, “okay, I’ll see you fellas later.” He dashed off out the door hoping that Natasha was still nearby.

“We won’t wait up!” Joe called jokingly after him, but Skinny hardly heard him. He was off to win over the girl he wanted and the girl he needed.

#hbo band of brothers #band of brothers #skinny sisk #request game #fanfiction #oneshot #wayne sisk

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 3 (Nesssian AU)

A/N: I'm very(read: kinda) sorry for cliffhanger last chapter. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: Language

2094 words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cassian never knew such panic. He knew he was being an ass for acting as if he had the right to be protective of her. Of the person he didn’t even know the name of. Of the person he felt drawn to and yet wanted to forget. Of the person who got under his skin so easily. Of the person whose beauty can bring the best of men to their knees and make even queens try everything possible to best her. He didn’t know her at all other than a few conversations that weren’t his best moments, but he still felt as if they had been together since they were just kids.

All of those were reasons good enough to get him to forget other females. But this woman, gods, this woman wasn’t like the others, was she? No, she wasn’t. He found her on her knees with a man standing before her in an alley on the way back home from the library. At first glance, his heart broke for different reasons. He started walking away, before he realised it wasn’t what he thought it was. When he caught the telltale whiff of blood and saw the glint of a blade from the corner of his eyes.

Undiluted panic and rage —both feelings he didn’t have the right to feel— spurred him forward, knocking the man unconscious and breaking a bone or two for good measure, only to find the woman laying on the floor, her heart beating too fast for her good. Cassian debated entrusting the man and woman over to the authorities. Somehow, Cassian felt that the man and woman were well acquainted before today. He felt all of this was planned from the man’s side. So he brought both of them to his house. The guy was shoved into the basement with a strong sedative. The woman was left in the guest room one of his brothers or friends slept in whenever they stayed over. He didn’t take her to his room. No, he won’t. That would rip open a wound he still struggled to keep closed. A wound that wasn’t even closed properly. That would remind him of images he didn’t want to admit was stored in his mind. One of those images rose, of the woman laying on his bed, golden-brown hair fanned around her flushed face, her eyes screwed shut in—

Cassian shoved that image away and sighed. He should probably have a little chat with the woman once she wakes up.

Today, when the woman didn’t wake up after one week of unconsciousness, when her face was ghastly pale, he felt the optimism that incentivised him slowly seeping out. He started regretting his decision of not handing things over to the police. What if Cassian’s first aid hadn’t been enough? Worse, what if he did something wrong? What if, because of his actions —done knowingly, or unknowingly— would be the reason why the earth loses a certain gray-eyed beauty?

Cassian was close to giving up. It pained him to see her like this. If not for the slight rise and fall of her chest he would think she was dead already. He slowly walked to her bed, crouched and tucked stray strands of hair behind the shell of her ear. He tamped down the emotion cresting in him. Her pulse was getting steadier day by day. He should be happy— his one week of taking leave from both of his jobs and tending to her was paying off. But his mind shot to the moment that day when they first met. When he was stunned by her beauty. Her side-profile, not even her full face, at that. That day, when he realised something deadly was brewing between them. It had been growing from that day, he realised. It was barely five weeks since he had known her— he didn’t even know her. They were just acquaintances. Still, Cassian knew he was falling hard for her. This time, he couldn’t contain the swell of emotion in him. He couldn't hold back the tear rolling down his cheek. He slowly slipped out of the room and sighed. To say he was screwed was a major understatement.

***

Everywhere hurt. Death was supposed to be one's liberation. No one mentioned that there was physical pain in death. There shouldn't be, right? One didn't even have a body to feel physical pain after death. Mental pain? Probably. Physical pain? A big no.

Nesta blinked open her eyes — which again, no one mentioned ghosts would be able to do.

Huh. She expected Hell —for the mistakes she'd atoned, she assumed Hell would be her place— to be all dark and gloomy. What she didn't expect was for Hell to have separate rooms— with furniture and bright blue walls, no less.

She wanted to sit up and get a sense of her surroundings and clear her still groggy head. That's when she heard muffled footsteps. She jerked upright —and immediately regretted it for her head hurt even worse than before — and her pulse raced. She paused. Pulse raced?

She cautiously placed her hand on her wrist, then her neck and on her chest to be sure. Pulse. She had a pulse. She wasn’t dead?

The door flew open revealing a hulking, heaving figure she knew all too well. What was he doing here?

Ohh. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of memories from the alley. Of Tomas. She opened her eyes to find the man sitting on a chair near the bed. Immediately she was keenly aware of the limited space between them. He silently passed her a glass of water she gladly downed, refilled and let her drink her as much as she wanted.

She set her glass on the bedside table and looked up at him, at the concern etched deep on his face.

“Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” he asked.

Why is he being kind? Why is he making it difficult for me to hate him?

“Why am I here?” she asked instead.

“I asked you first,” he deadpanned. Typical.

“Mhm, nice way to deflect. Too kiddish, though,” she said.

“As if you aren’t deflecting,” he retorted.

“How about this? Your answers for mine.”

He huffed. “Whatever. So, are you okay?”

She smiled, “Me first.” At his glare she said, “I’m sick, aren’t I?”

“How nice of you to pull that card,” he murmured.

“Why am I here?”

“I found you on your knees, your nose slightly broken, bleeding here and there with a man holding a knife to your throat in an alley.” He shrugged. “I brought you and healed you as well as I could without gaining attention from the authorities. This is my home.”

She opened her mouth to ask her next question.

He cut her off with a smile and said, “My turn, sweetheart.”

She clenched her jaw. His audacity.

He leaned forward on his elbows. “Does anything hurt?”

“Yeah,” she allowed herself a small smile, “My head feels like it's being hit with a hammer by a particularly unkind person. My nose feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. My scalp feels like it’s being used as a cotton reel. I’m in dire need of a bath. Other than that, I’m fine I guess.”

He nodded, “Well, I’m glad you’re fine.” There he is, being all kind and caring to me again. He chuckled. “No need to give me that look. I’m just glad my one week off didn’t go down the drain.”

That was what she wanted to hear. But it still stung. Her head snapped up as realisation struck. “Wait— has it been one week already?”

He smirked, “Yes. Now, my question—”

She frowned, “It’s my turn.”

His smirk only grew larger. That bastard. “ ‘Has it been one week already’ is a question, my love.”

Shit. She should’ve thought about that. He was correct but still, “How dare—”

“Calm down, darling, calm down. If you want—”

She sighed and said, “Bring it on, then.”

His jaw ticked. He’s angry, she realised. “Who was he?” he asked quietly.

She drew in a breath. “That was Tomas. Tomas Mandray. My ex-boyfriend. He probably wanted revenge for putting him in jail.” She didn’t explain. She didn’t want to and he seemed to understand that. She slightly dreaded the next question. She put on her no-emotion face and asked, “Where is he?”

His face said he saw right through her facade. He pursed his lips, “In the basement. I figured the both of you had some sort of personal history so I wanted to wait for you to wake up before I did anything. He’s not awake; I’ve taken care of that but I don’t think he’ll be unconscious much longer. Do you need anything?”

She nodded, she was still in the same clothes as that day. There were blood stains throughout her black shirt. The mere thought that she hadn't cleaned herself for one week made her shudder. He didn’t change her clothes and she appreciated that though it seemed her face, neck and hands were wiped with a cloth. “I’d like a bath.”

He seemed to consider this before saying, “Sure. You can use my friend's clothes from the closet. The bathroom is there. Take a bath, use whatever you want. I'll get breakfast ready.”

He turned to leave. “Wait,” she called.

He arched his brows, waiting. “Thank you. For everything.”

He gave her his signature half-smile, “Anytime, darling.”

***

Making breakfast was normally very easy. Today, however, it was proving to be a very, very difficult task. Apparently, your brain turns to mush when the woman you've been drooling behind is bathing under the same roof. Also when you're talking to her. He found it a miracle that he didn't make a fool of himself earlier.

But he was sober enough to see the vulnerability behind her guarded expressions when they were talking about her ex-boyfriend. Gods, her ex-boyfriend. The anger he felt when he saw him in the alley was less than a tenth of what he felt now. He didn't know why he was angry. He just… was. He knew she was smart and brave and strong. But that didn't wipe off the fact that somewhere, beneath the tigress exterior, there was a scared little rabbit. He knew what he was going to do might be stupid. He knew it might not work out. Still, Cassian was going to arm the scared rabbit, consequences be damned.

***

Turns out, he makes delicious breakfast. There was steak, salad, boiled potatoes and a number of other foods. Nesta didn't know when she last had such mouth-watering steak. Not that she'll admit it though.

“Did he see you?” she asked after a hearty meal. “Tomas,” she clarified.

“No,” he replied, “I came from the back. His guard was down so he wasn't ready. I don't think he's trained in this kinda stuff. He probably knows a little but not good enough. Why?”

She shook her head. “I don't think I want anything to do with him. Would you mind sending him to the police? Maybe you could just attach a note saying you found him abandoned somewhere or something like that. I really don't want to get you into trouble either.”

She didn't dare look at him, afraid he'll say no.

“Fine,” he said. “You can call a cab whenever you're ready to leave. Take my first-aid kit if you want. Anything else?”

“No, no, nothing.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks. Again

For, uh, everything.”

Gods, why was she getting so flustered?

She packed her old clothes and some medicines he recommended for her headache, ignoring the pang of disappointment. Before she left, he passed her a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it.

“What is this?” she asked.

“It's a centre I run with my brothers. In three weeks from now, after that Sunday, do you want to come? It's a self-defense arts centre. We could teach you a bit here and there. If you want. Totally no pressure.”

Nesta was stunned. That was exactly what she was thinking about in the shower earlier. Learn how to fight. Learn what to do. Then, payback time. She really didn't understand how he managed to read her mind. She smiled. “I'd love that.”

He grinned. She felt happy. Soon, she was going to give back suffering for all she got. Tomas was so going to pay. She's going to learn how to fight. Never again, she vowed. Never again would she be vulnerable.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things

#writeblr #kepper's writing #sarah j mass #sjm #sjmaas #sjmverse #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acotar au #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nesta and cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta x cassian #cassian and nesta #nessian #nessian au #nessian fanfiction #incorrect order

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Round 4 Match 4

propaganda below the cut! (massive wall of text warning)

Miki Berenyi:

"shes the most beautiful woman i have ever seen. her hair is amazing and she's just gorgeous idk what else to say or how to fathom her beauty"

"I met miki berenyi a few weeks ago and shes the coolest and nicest person I've ever met so down to earth and nice and lovely which imo makes her incredibly hot"

"Founding mother of Shoegaze"

"I want to hold miki so tenderly and tell her jokes that make her laugh like we’re childhood friends and have a sleepover where we do each others makeup and then fuck so nasty the neighbors get alarmed and debate with each other whether or not to call the cops"

Brian Molko:

"Gender"

"IM GOING TO EAT HER. He is soooo beautiful and freakish and small and weird and girlfriend and tiny like a little princess bug fairy. Literally gorgeous she has to win"

"When he flipped over the table with the little limp wrist.... someone find the video"

"1998 woman of the year"

"Brian Molko is peak gender envy, gender bending and being yourself without caring about other people's opinion, on top of all that he is a great guitarist that writes amazing songs"

"Brian’s gonna win this. I think we all kinda know that."

"Tumblrinas would be nothing without Brian molko"

"Kills her kills her kills her kills her kills her kills him kills her. He's my everything <3"

"He came 10th in the list of hottest women sometimes in the 90s. Gender goals."

"No one in the world can sound so nasal and look so angelic....."

"don't you wish you had his gender"

"Single-handedly took my gender by the scruff of the neck and threw it in a washing machine at full speed. He talked about not expecting to "get away with" passing as a woman to the degree that he did when he started purposely presenting feminine. He talked about the importance to fuck with people's heads through his appearance and behaviour, the importance of ambiguity. About how being in the band allowed him to do stuff he couldn't have done otherwise, to exaggerate some of his traits. He had the fuck ass bob makeup nail polish dresses stuff down, but not in an overly sophisticated way, especially in the early career 90s days the vibe was more shabby punk rock chick. Also he fantasized about being in an all-girl band called Skirt and playing guitar and singing backing vocals in drag. According to a 1997 melody maker interview bandmate steve hewitt called him "the most confused woman he's ever known". And if you go down that rabbit hole there's just more of this. Lots of material to focus on if you like genderweird bisexual unclean libertines (song ref) who will just say Anything in interviews. It's fun."

"I've drawn him as saints and martyrs such as saint sebastian and joan of arc. Or all bloody lying in a wet alley after being thrown out of a club. Or unconscious on a snowy road. Or dying in a glue trap. Or shocked after seeing a dead body. Also as a nun and as rose mcgowan in the doom generation. This is because I'm normal."

"She's a sick little angel faced freak. My theythem girlboy queen. He reminds me of an ant. He's like 5 foot 4 or something. My goth girl boyfriend. <3"

#most attractive 90s musician #poll #polls #90s music #tournament #miki berenyi #lush #brian molko #placebo

[yelenasdog]

wondrous mess (40s!bucky x fem reader)

𝚊𝚕𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚘𝚍𝚋𝚘𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎

𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: angst with some tooth rotting fluff halfway 

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: war is so cruel, it’s only fair that the both of them have to expirience it’s wrath together.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 11k+ (my longest fic!!)

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: the beginning shows implications of alcoholic tendencies and behavior as well as derogatory terms from the 40s to describe those who are suffering from alcoholism, war, character death, denial of death, being a widow, cheating, crying, implications of sex, that’s abt it. if i missed any, feel free to shoot me an ask or message :) 

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: (listen to these in order for best reading experience)

☆time flies- mac miller

☆at last- etta james

☆crying time- dean martin

☆paper rings- taylor swift

☆fine line- harry styles

☆dream a little dream of me- ella fitzgerald and louis armstrong 

☆twilight time- the platters

☆you don’t have to say you love me- jerry vale

☆moon river- andy williams

☆as the world caves in- matt maltese

☆we’ll meet again- vera lynn

☆everlong (acoustic version)- foo fighters

𝚊/𝚗: i hope u enjoy this!! i’ve worked so hard on this and done so much research, it truly took the most time and effort i’ve ever used in a fic. there’s more disclaimers at the end :)

·。·☆·。·。

December 28th, 1941

The alleyway was dark, unnerving, and cold. A man’s loud and gruff voice projected through the nearly empty alley, bouncing off of the newly propaganda strewn walls. His arm was left hanging defenseless in the air.

“Don’t go, please, we’ll talk it out.” His 5 o’clock shadow seemed more prominent, his clothes wrinkled and smelling of alcohol while his breath was that of smoke.

He had changed since they had gotten together, but he wasn’t the only one.

She turned on her heels from where she stood just outside the backstreet, tears pricking the corner of her eyes, threatening to spill. 

She had aged in the time she had been with Jake, the lines on her face deepening, the bags under her eyes darkening with blue and purple hues. Her painted lips had become cemented in a scowl, her formerly bright smile rarely seeing the light of day. But the distraught girl had no intentions of letting her new Bésame mascara go to waste on some jerk, much like the past few years of her life had. She strutted towards the blonde, regaining her lost composure.

She jabbed a manicured finger onto his chest, causing the man to recede slowly, the girl he had angered not far behind.

“You listen here, you crumb. I will not sit around all slack happy so you can go around and kiss some other dame behind my back.” She removed her hand, crossing it tightly against her chest with her other arm.

“Well, I was buzzed, that bird wasn’t even any importanc-“

“You’re unbelievable!” She gasped, rolling her eyes. She turned away once again. Jake followed in suit.

“Leave me alone, Jake.” She kept her eyes straight ahead on the unfamiliar Brooklyn sidewalk. She had originally come to the area to surprise her now ex- boyfriend after his work in the factory, but was in for a shock when she saw him making out with some girl (not for the first time) just outside the diner on the way.

So even if she didn’t have a clue where she was going, she sure as hell was going to act like she did. Seeing that her stride wasn’t faltering, he made an outcry of her name followed by a bellowed  “No!”

Jake grabbed her shoulder, and she shrugged it off, continuing to walk down the cobblestone street. There were cars buzzing past, and people talking around her on the street.

Couples. Happy couples who she quite honestly envied.

“You’re not allowed to touch me like that anymore.” Jake scoffed at her seemingly venomous words, wrapping a strong hand around her dainty wrist.

“Now don’t go into a decline, it’s not that big of a deal.” Her eyes narrowed at the sandy blond.

“Oh, please. You kissed her, and all the others, because you wanted to and because you could. No regard for anyone’s feelings but your own, just like always. And I’m sick of it, I really am!” She threw her hands up, and they fell back to her side with an audible plop against the gabardine fabric.

Jake looked around nervously at all the people whose attention he had drawn, his eyes darting to and fro.

“Don’t make a scene,” he called her by her nickname in a vain attempt to draw out her sympathy. “Please, we can work it out like we always do.”

“Don’t you dare call me that. You have no place to do so. And I think I’ve made my point fairly evidently. Jake Nelson, you are nothing but a swigger and a cheat, and I want nothing to do with it any longer. Goodbye.” She felt a rush of adrenaline as she picked her head up, the setting sun in what to her seemed a poetic manor.

She didn’t know where she was, how she would get home, where she would sleep. But he was gone. That parasite that had been feeding off of her and her emotions, taking advantage of her again and again, was finally gone. And it felt great. She took a breath of the heavily polluted air, noting how it somehow seemed clearer.

She could breathe again, and the feeling was intoxicating. In her newfound bliss, she continued walking for she didn’t know (nor care to find out) how long.

The sky that had since changed from it’s scarlets and oranges to an indigo sheet (becoming nearly impossible to see the stars with all the heavy smoke wafting in the air from the ever so busy factories) provided a hint at exactly how long it had been since she began her adventure. 

She would stare at the buildings as she walked past, analyzing those who walked in and out of them, considering the way they walked, how some appeared dreary, others animated, and making up backstories for them each in her mind. Some of her stories were sadder than others, and some had the most glorious of tales. She liked to think that she was correct about her human hypotheses, even if she was the furthest thing from it.

She swung her head to the left side of the street she was walking on, and not far ahead, she noticed a rickety looking old bar. After her day's events, she felt she deserved a celebratory drink, so she pushed the heavy door open, stepping into the dimly lit area.

The airy sound of piano filled the air, a joyful demeanor to the place. Couples (which she still envied, even if momentarily the said envy had gone vacant) were dancing about happily. Not a care in the world. Not in the moment, at least.

But when she made it past the entrance, that moment stopped. It was like every head turned, all conversations paused, the clinking of the piano keys was no longer to be heard. She gave a small nervous smile to the occupants of the room as she walked to the bar itself, standing just a tad bit taller at the attention. 

And as soon as the moment had stopped, it seemed to have started back up again when she ended up at her destination. Because as she had learned, time truly never stopped for anyone. 

The piano’s melody resumed, everyone was back on their feet in no time. She took a look around, soaking up the atmosphere in complete awe, feeling free as a bird of some sort.

Soon enough, she was slowly sipping away at her concoction while facing the splintering door, her head occupied with thoughts concerning what came next, how she would handle the effects of this adrenaline high she was now stepping off. Her thinking was interrupted, though, by a deep voice and a tap on the shoulder, making her jump in her seat.

“‘Scuse me?”

She turned on her stool to face whoever it was that wanted her attention. Both figures eyes widened at the sight of the other, shock spreading across their faces.

“Well if it isn’t James Barnes!” She spoke, genuine excitement filling her soul. He called out her old nickname, contended with his discovery.

“It’s been awhile! And please, doll, it’s Bucky.” He reminded her with a charming smile. A warm blush rose up from her neck to her cheeks, and butterflies suddenly hatched in her stomach, fluttering about like nobody's business. She nodded, taking another sip from her drink to avoid meeting his eyes (which were much prettier than she ever had remembered from school). 

The clean shaven boy- or man as of late, pulled out a chair next to her, sitting down. The two engaged in friendly conversation, their laughs mixing in the warm, thick air with the sounds of the music. Her heart was beating out of her chest, leaving her feeling like a schoolgirl with a crush all over again.

After some time of very pleasant conversation, a less effervescent matter had risen.

“So,” James began, taking a swig from his glass. “Still with that souse, what was his name,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Jake! That’s his name, Jake!” 

The girl shook her head and rolled her eyes with a laugh.

He was enchanted already.

She began to tell a toned down version of the occurrences with Jake, Bucky remaining captivated by her presence the entire time. James would speak up every few statements, always resulting in her losing her place, not that she minded.

Towards the end of the so called story, there was an interruption towards the front of the bar. 

The moment stopped once more, but in a quite different manner than how it did when she had first entered.

He hollered out her name, followed by an equally as loud “Where are you?” He turned to a man to his left. “Where is she?” He slurred. The scruffy man only shrugged, scooting away from the drunken one that had walked into the brick building.

“Jake, what are you doing here?” She questioned, slowly walking towards the man, trying not to upset him further. 

“Why’d you leave me, huh?! Why’d you cause a scene and go?” He was hysterical. Tears ran down his red face and his hands feverishly grabbed at his scraggly locks for some sense of comfort. 

“Jake, you’re not in your right mind. Leave me alone and go home, you’re leaving your mother worrying, I’m sure of it.”

Her voice began to shake, ripples of emotion that had been repressed for the past years bubbling up to the surface, taunting her, threatening her, to erupt.

And God, his mother, his poor mother.

The frail old woman was half the reason she had even stayed with Jake in the first place,

Her heart was weak, and her son’s behavior never left her any room to breath. So the girl would dedicate much of her time to cooking meals for the widowed Ms. Nelson, bringing them over and sitting with her for hours on end, speaking with her of Jake’s childhood, memories of her late husband spending time with the boy along with it.

Her favorite stories throughout them all, though, were the ones of Jake’s childhood pup, a golden retriever called Benjamin.

Ms. Nelson loved to tell the story of how odd it was that the young boy chose the human name, rather than something frivolous and fun, like Buddy, or Peanut.

So a teary eyed version of the girl would think back to that story whenever Jake would behave in this manner, she would think of Benjamin and a youthful Jake, frolicking in the Oklahoma fields where Jake had grown up.

An extremely happy child, an even sweeter boy.

But no longer could she do so. Not now, after Jake had gone and betrayed her for some random girl.

Some random girl who would never sit with his mother for hours, listening to her weep about her broken son who she pretended to not notice was silently suffering. Some random girl who wouldn’t comfort him when he had a rough day at work, trying to be an active distraction so that he wouldn’t turn to his vice.

Because she had loved Jake Nelson, even if she wanted to pretend she didn’t.

And it hurt her to walk away, but she had to, for his own good.

Which led her to push the image of a golden fluff ball and the face of a smiling small boy out of her mind completely, weighing herself down to the present, meeting Jake’s sad emerald eyes. She walked forward, taking him by the shoulders. Her voice was hushed as she spoke.

“Jake. You’ve become someone I don’t know, someone that’s hard to love. But I did it anyway for a long, long time. Maybe some other time, perhaps even in another life, we can be together. But that all depends on you.

You’ve hurt me, and I can’t pretend you haven’t any longer, Jake. So go home. Please.”

Her eyes hunted through his, sifting for some sign of reassurance that he understood the gravity of the situation.

“But I love you-” He whispered, acting a stuttering mess. Everyone at the bar had gone back to whatever they were doing before he came into the room, not wanting to involve themselves in whatever mess it was obvious the two of them were in.

She took hold of the brown fabric of his coat, gently turning him towards the door. She walked behind him, her hand not leaving his back for some subconscious fear he would do something he would regret once he was of sober mentality.

She discarded it as nonsense;

But nevertheless, her death grip on him never faltered, even for a moment.

As soon as she made it outside, she waved over a cab, the bright yellow vehicle being the only completely visible object in the cool night.

It pulled over with a loud screech, leaving rubber tracks on the damp asphalt. She wrinkled her nose, before digging around her embroidered bag in a flurry, pulling together $5.27 exactly. She knew it would be enough to cover the long ride from the factory to his home, as the high cost of the ride was one of his many worries he did his best to forget in any way he could possibly fathom.

So she told the cabbie his address, helping Jake into the back of the car. He held her hand and looked up to her with pleading eyes. She squeezed it once before putting his back on his lap.

“Goodnight, Jake.” She smiled softly, briefly touching his cheek before shutting the door. She saw him look out the dirty window, before leaning back into the leather headrest and letting his tired eyes flutter to a close, finding momentary bliss, despite all going on around him.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, watching him until the taxi was just barely visible, to where calling it a yellow blob would be generous. But she followed it with her eyes not a moment later, for she had some explicable fear from a tall-tale her mother had told her long ago, about how you would never see someone again if you watched them off completely.

Whether that be by death or some curious mishap along the journey towards it, she never quite felt the urge to find out. And one could take that as a bitter yet nectarous testament to her feelings towards Jake, but even if she wanted to, she wasn’t even sure if she could herself.

She revolved in zombie like fashion, too caught up in her own world once more, to notice a certain brown haired (soon to be, not that he knew it) sergeant.

A stormy look of displeasure had casted itself across his stark features, but his cerulean eyes remained cordial, almost like a safe haven of calm waters to find refuge in.

And almost like in every cliche love story that ever was, she bumped into Bucky, gasping before transitioning into an expression of her regret, a waterfall of apologies gushing from her lips.

He called her by her nickname once more, catching her attention and making her heart skip a beat.

“Seriously, it’s alright, no harm done.”

She zipped her mouth shut, so to say, and just gave a curt nod before starting to go inside. And ever the gentleman, Bucky let her get halfway to the door before calling out her name. She turned once more, salty droplets beginning to roll down her face. 

“Yes?”

He looked down to his feet and then to the bustling city street beside him. After much contemplation in the span of what felt like hours (but was only a few moments), he met her eye.

“I know it’s not my place, and if you don’t wanna talk ‘bout it, we don’t have to, but what happened in there-”

He paused, taking a deep breath in a futile effort to put his nerves at bay, keep the storm from shore to the best of his abilities. He puffed his cheeks, offering his arm before retreating it again, similarly to the way Jake had however many hours ago.

“You don’t deserve that.” He shook his head, left to right, his ungelled hair shiny under the yellow street lights, making him look like an angel.

“I know.”

He shuffled closer to her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. The wind howled around them in an agonizing manner, how lone wolves under a full moon would do the same.

They watched as their frosty breaths floated like smoke in the air, their faces illuminated by the storefront displays lining the streets from Christmas that was only a few days prior, leaving no time to take down the brightly colored decor. You could practically hear the animated Santa Claus’ “Ho ho ho!” from where he sat in the front of a toy store, beckoning those who walked past to come on inside and take a look, maybe spend a few dollars.

But to Y/n, it felt as if the cheery old man was simply mocking her as she was in her current state.

“Really, I mean that, I do.”

Now to reiterate, Bucky was a gentleman, that much was clear. So although he outright wanted to tell her that it seemed as if she didn’t realize her own worth and that, Hell, Steve could treat her better than that punk. But alas, he kept it to himself, only doing his best to comfort her, upsetting her further, never an intention in his mind.

She nodded, giving a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, really.”

She shivered, admiring the red and green lights around her, her glazed over eyes reflecting the image of them beautifully, almost like a work of stained glass art in her iris.

“You wanna head back inside? You look kinda chilly.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’m just going to stay out here for awhile.”

“I’ll leave you to it.”

All that was heard then, was the clicking of his shoes against the cobblestone, with the occasional car whizzing past. But then, she asked him to stay.

Her voice was soft, so much so, in fact, that she possessed what Bucky would say was mistakable for the voice of a mouse, which he would know after spending as many years around Steve that he had. He almost had missed it, but by some miracle, maybe a lucky star, he didn’t

So he turned around, not saying anything to disturb her seemingly exteriorly serene state, only walking up behind her, pulling off his jacket and placing it on top of her shoulders. He smoothed it out briefly, his touch feather light. For he wasn’t sure if he was breaching a certain level of intimacy, breaking any boundaries, with a woman who was practically a stranger.

“Is this alright?”

She nodded again.

“This is fine.” She closed her eyes, feeling much warmer now, but she was slightly torn on if the newfound comfort was accredited to the jacket resting upon her shoulders, or the company standing patiently beside her.

She was starting to think it might just be a little bit of both.

-

June 14th, 1943

The two's relationship (if you could call it that) was painstakingly slow, not that Bucky ever minded.

Word of the war and when, not who, would get drafted had spread, and any waking second for the past years, she was terrified the man she was developing ever strong feelings for would be ripped away with only a moments notice.

But regardless of that, she had a hard time trusting him, that much was true. It wasn’t his fault, not in the slightest. She wished more than anything to forget her past with Jake, but it was no use. So it took her much time to be able to trust James. But he was patient, and he always stayed.

So when he did get called away, it was a rude awakening.

She had only recently met Steve, before Bucky (who she still called James) was sent overseas. Her maternal instinct she didn’t even know she had immediately kicked into overdrive at first sight of the sickly boy, making her promise Buck that she would watch over him, much to Steve’s dismay. Although, there was no doubt in any of their minds she would in the first place, it was a given.

(Steve secretly loved the way she fussed over him, but he would never admit to that.)

The three of them had a lovely time at the Stark Expo the night before Bucky left, leaving a happy new memory for Y/n to drift to whenever she missed the scent of sandalwood, sweat, and his cologne, that was all uniquely him.

She would picture entangling her arms with Steve and Bucky’s own as she skipped happily, pulling the boys along behind her; not too rough of course, for Steve’s sake

She had been full of an electric happiness that night, stealing kisses with James when Steve wasn’t looking, a pink tint falling upon his plump cheeks. She stole his hat right off his head of hair that she loved to run her fingers through so much and put it on, crooked so much so it nearly fell right off. She wore it the whole rest of the night, Bucky wanting to never see her take it off, if it were possible.

Later that night when he took her home, she stood by the doorway, the porch light doing a sad job of lighting up the area, casting a faint amber glow across James’ features.  

The hairs left astray from where she had Bucky’s hunter green cap previously were lit up, forming a halo. 

She was a wondrous mess, and James simply adored her in that moment.

(He also adored her in any other instance since the minute he had laid his eyes on her, but the point still stands.)

You could smell the grass if you had tried, freshly cut and still damp from the late night shower they had run through while making their way home, turning through twisty alleyways, feet pattering against walkways.

Their hands had been slipping apart the entire time, perhaps an attempt by Freyr for a cruel joke in the last hours the lovers would spend together before James was to leave.

Maybe he was up in the sky at Mount Olympus, laughing down at the two mortals as the girl kept her hand gripped securely around the man’s stronger limb, refusing under any circumstances to let go. Maybe his laugh turned to a fond smile from above, finding pleasure in how his jest resulted in such an act of youthful care, not minding in the slightest that it had been counterproductive in the best ways.

“Thank you, James. I had an amazing night.”

He grinned ear to ear, awkwardly shuffling closer to her silhouette.

“Same here, doll.”

And just like that, she had crumbled like a coffee cake, another warm and itchy wave silking up her neck. Past the neckline of the uncomfortable dress she wore because she knew Bucky loved it (even though he would no longer love it and would insist she never wear it again if his ears heard any words of upset at the garment fall past her lips).

It traveled right past her best pearls with the rhinestone right in the center that she had made sure to wear because James had once told her that they made her eyes sparkle, that sly son of a gun.

The twinkle truly had been there solely because of him on that day and most others, but she would allow him to believe what he wanted to believe until the end of time, if it kept that boyish smile cemented on his pretty face.

But as it eventually always would, his smile began to falter, shifting into a slight pout, then into a full on frown as soon as her eyes had become visibly misty.

Bucky reached a hand forward snatching the cap from her head. She huffed, and he rolled his eyes as he placed it back on his head. 

“I’ll be needing this tomorrow, sorry, sweetheart.”

They both laughed for a moment, the memories of the night still fresh in their young minds.

“I’m going to miss you, James.”

Her chin suddenly quivered, her nose ran, and her thoughts were racing at the speed of light.

She couldn’t lose him. No, not yet, she wasn’t ready, she wouldn’t ever be ready. She hadn't even begun to express to him how much she loved him, let alone that she couldn’t bear to live a day without him (as the information was quite new to her as well). So how in God’s name was she supposed to ship him off to war, just like that, practically a sitting duck for those bastard nazis to poke and prod at all they want?

“I’ll miss you more, darlin’. More than you know.”

They both made an attempt at watery smiles that ended up looking more like two painful grimaces, which was more of a reflection of their current moods than the aforementioned. His eyes pleaded with her to say something, anything. One of her quick witted facts, maybe a scolding perhaps, for having such a negative attitude in the current predicament.

Not able to stare at his collapsing facade any longer, she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his neck. She quickly reciprocated, placing a strong hand on her waist.

There was a longing look in her eyes as the gears of her brain turned, carefully formulating what she wanted to say.

“Marry me.”

Well, formulating is a strong word.

He laughed at the notion, the sound ringing out and echoing off the small porch. But the whimsical tune soon halted when he realized he was the only one making it.

“Doll, are you serious?”

“Never been more serious about anything in my life, James.” She moved her hands to take his, holding them up to her chest and shaking them as she spoke with a supplicate glance. He said her nickname in a careful manner, trying to articulate a response, muttering something about not having a ring, how their families (Becca included) would be furious they missed the wedding. But she was having none of it.

“Well I’m sure given the circumstances, they’d understand, and if they don’t then oh well. And quite frankly, as for the ring, I could care less, James, make a ring out of paper and slap it on my finger, it's all the same to me. We can go to the court tomorrow morning before I see you off-”

She moved her head down to where Bucky was gazing, tilting it back up with her pointer finger.

“Let me marry you, dammit.”

They laughed for a second, both of them this time, although her’s was much more convincing.

“But why now?”

She paused again, the only sound to be heard was the soft chirping of the crickets hidden in the grass.

“Because I know you're far too much of a gentleman to leave me widowed, James Barnes.”

He pressed soft kisses on her knuckles, meeting her eyes.

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Oh, only every day.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled, pulling her in by the waist. He connected their lips, and felt her smile into the kiss. He also happened to feel a hand creeping up to where his hat rested on the crown of his head, but the feeling wasn’t prolonged.

She snatched it off his shiny locks with a devilish grin, a sparkle in her eye shining like the North star Bucky soon would be gazing upon at night to direct him through the dark nights.

“You should keep that on for forever, you know. Looks better on you, anyway.”

She raised a messy eyebrow, the corner of her bright red mouth turning into a smirk.

“Oh really, is that so?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, kissing her nose and watching in delight as it crinkled up and a high pitched giggle escaped from her lips. Then it was quiet for some time, the only thing able to be heard was the droplets of rainwater sliding off the roof and plopping on the floor as her and James stood in contemplation.

“I’ll marry you, doll.”

She smiled at him warmly, leaning into his larger frame completely, the scratchy green fabric of his uniform flush against her cheek.

“I know.”

He barked a loud laugh, and she felt it through the fabric covering his chest, savouring the feeling.

“You know? Well how did you know?”

She only sighed, moving to open her rickety front door, which the whole neighborhood probably knew judging by the squeak that echoed from it.

“Because, just as I said before. You’re a gentleman. You’d never turn down a proposal in public, especially not from me.”

Bucky’s face contorted, and the gears of his head turned as he made an honest effort at understanding how they were in public.

“But, we’re not?”

She shook her head, stepping into her home and then turning to face him straight on.

“Technically, we were on the patio, which is in the yard, which is in the neighborhood, which is in public. Now, if I were to propose to you right now with you-”

She tugged his arm, forcing him into the building. 

“-also in my home, you would have every right to say no.”

She looked up, scanning his features. Admiring his cheekbones, his lips, and his sharp jaw. But most prevalently, she found herself absolutely enchanted by his eyes, as she always was.

“But I won’t.”

“But you won’t.”

She smiled, the look on her face resembling that of a fox smirking at her prey. She waltzed to the door, closing it softly.

“So,” she began, taking hold of Bucky’s hands.

“Tomorrow morning it is, then?”

“I think it is.”

“Whatever shall we do in the meantime?” She questioned, both of them having ideas that were entirely the same.

“I think I might have an inkling of an idea.”

She huffed, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You and your ideas, James. Always ‘thinking’ of something new.”

He only hummed in agreement, nuzzling his forehead against hers, before moving down to her ear.

“I’d like to believe I act on those ideas. Would you agree?”

You can most likely guess her answer.

-

The next morning was a mixture of great sorrow and great joy all at once. Sure, they had to get up at the crack of dawn on what would be Bucky’s last chance to sleep in for a very long time, and sure, the minister had given them very strange looks, but it had been done.

And to the newly wed Mr and Mrs. Barnes, it was worth it completely.

But nearly as soon as the exciting event had ended, she was standing on the slimy pebbles of Brooklyn's Pier 57, doing her best to not lose her footing on the wet stones. She had given James one final goodbye kiss, before watching him board the Dominion Monarch to be shipped off to England.

The large vessel departed, and for once, she allowed a few tears to slip down her blushed cheeks, her smeared mascara coming with it, just as she knew it would. The bitter droplets were warm, a juxtaposition to the feeling in the pit of her stomach formed by the voice nagging at her that Bucky would never see her again. That her wedding day would be the last time she would ever see her husband. It was a possible reality she never wanted to have to face.

And after so long, she decided she was tired of waiting. So she made a call.

“Hello? Is this Agent Margaret Carter?”

-

December 25th, 1943

Bucky Barnes was not opposed to the idea of Y/n joining the army. He was appalled.

So when on the crisp morning of December 25th, it was quite a surprise when he opened what he had presumed to be a letter wishing him a Merry Christmas from his wife, and rather receiving some interesting news.

He had been laying his backside against a tree, the scratchy bark feeling rather uncomfortable. He smiled, smiled at the news of his wife going to war, not that he knew, when Steve handed him the parchment, taking another sip of some watered down joe from an aluminum cup, before excitedly ripping into it like a little boy.

“I wanted to save it for today,” Steve had told him, his chest puffed out in pride for keeping the secret for so long.

Bucky initially had found it humorous and exciting, why wouldn’t he have? But his mood soon changed after reading just a few lines in.

“James, my love,

I hope this message finds you and the rest of the boys in good health, tell them I wish them all a happy Christmas, as well. There really isn’t a simple way to put this, and I hope it doesn’t put a damper on your holiday spirit, but I’ve been tired of sitting around, so I’ve spoken to Steve’s friend, Agent Carter. I now have enlisted in the SSR as Agent Barnes.”

The paper clenched in his fist, his eyes screwing shut. He didn’t even bother reading the rest before standing up and walking over to Steve, a fiery look set in his eyes. Steve soon caught on to his anger, standing up and parting his lips as he neared.

“Steve, did you know?”

Steve, a horrible liar, shrugged, furrowing his brows. “About what? Buck, what's wrong?”

“Don’t lie to me, Rogers! Did you know about her enlisting?”

At that, it went silent in the forest aside from the rustling of the branches, and the chirps of early rising blackbirds. 

The rest of the Commandos turned, eyes wide, shoulders hunched. Steve gestured for them to calm down and return to normal with a dramatic sweep of his arms, with most of them complying, but not without a few snarky comments from Dum Dum and Gabe protesting the treatment.

“Listen, I tried to stop her-”

“Well apparently, you did a horrible job. God, Agent Barnes. That’s what she'll be known as now. We'll have the whole bunch! Sarge and Agent, wow, we are gonna be one decorated family, ain’t that right, Steve?”

Bucky was ranting and rambling now, spewing angry nonsense at Steve as if that would change a thing. Steve felt a pang of guilt, hanging his head and biting his knuckle.

“Buck, is it a problem that she’ll be an Agent?”

Bucky paused, his nostrils flaring and his eyes slanting.

“Of course it’s a problem, Steve! If they put her in the field, God knows what’ll happen! What if I have to see that name on a plaque some day, huh? In a museum, in some memorial for fallen agents.” His arm put emphasis on every word he shouted, and his voice had grown raspy, tears slipped from the corners of his eyes.

Steve sat his exasperated friend down, putting a comforting arm on his shoulder in an attempt to calm him. It distressed Steve to see Bucky this upset, after all he had done for him over the years. So if he could try to make him feel even the slightest bit relieved, he would in any way he had to.

“Bucky?”

He looked up, his eyes red and nose puffy.

“Think about how you're feeling right now. The fear, the hurt, the anxiety, all of it.”

“Steve, I don’t get how this is going to help me-”

“Just trust me.”

Bucky nodded, slumping over again.

“That’s how she feels. That’s how she felt when the war was announced, how she felt when you submitted your draft, how she felt when you were called away, Hell, how she feels every second of every hour that you’re not with her.”

“Still not helping.”

“Shut up, jerk.” They laughed, Steve elbowing him in his shoulder. The sound echoed through the lush green of the space, the tension noticeably thinner.

“The point is, the pain that this all has caused for everyone is inevitable, inescapable. So learn from it, and savour it. In the long run, we’ll be okay, Buck. I promise you that.”

James bit his bottom lip, puncturing the chapped skin, the blood pounding in his head making it hard to process what Steve had said. But what he did manage to gather, was that they would be okay.

-

February 11th, 1944

“Peggy, I’m nervous.”

“What? Are you kidding? You must be kidding, you’re ridiculous.”

Peggy gave the girl a dirty look from where she stood behind her in front of the only full length mirror at the base, looking as she straightened out her skirt and touched up her “victory” colored lip.

“I’m not kidding, Peg. What if he’s mad?”

The other agent only laughed, briefly touching her on the shoulder before walking around her to where a map of the Hydra bases they had been tracking were laid out. Peggy fiddled with one of the flags for a moment, speaking to a soldier nearby. She impatiently tapped her crimson nails on the board, the sound driving her friend insane. Peggy then began to speak, not even looking up from where she stood, bent over as she examined something else.

“Darling, the only thing Barnes will be mad about by now, is not seeing you for so long. If he was angry before, he’s long forgotten about it, I assure you that.”

She nodded (even though nobody except a nosy recruit had witnessed it).

“You know what, I think you’re right. Thanks, Peg.”

Margaret half smiled, “mmhm” ing, but keeping her head down. She did, however, lift it up when she heard the other woman’s heels clicking in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me?” Peggy remarked, brows raised and her arms crossed.

Agent Barnes turned, her painted lips beckoning Peggy to go on in a most humorous manner.

“We aren’t done here! Get over here and help me mark this up, I’m nearly finished.”

She rolled her eyes, to which Peggy only rushed her more.

By the time they were done (spoiler, she was not almost finished) several hours had passed, and the camp was now lit only by the lanterns and the moon in the obsidian sky.

The stars were visibly bright that night, twinkling like small diamonds without the restriction of smoke from busy factories and the blockage of the ever so fascinating skyscrapers.

Mr and Mrs. Barnes both were watching the stars that night, smiling at the thought of the other doing the same.

Yes, even Bucky, smiling at the thought of his wife despite his neck developing a crick from having laid on the knapsack in the back of the truck for so long. A lovestruck glance was still plastered on his face as he stared up, the road bumpy underneath the wheels of the vehicle. His body would jolt as a cause from this every once in a while, but he paid it no mind, the soft smile staying put.

Steve watched Bucky’s facial expressions, a grin coming across his own features.

“You thinkin’ about her?”

Steve looked up to the sky.

“Always am.”

-

“I know you want to wait up for him, but I promise as soon as I get word of if he’s here, I’ll wake you. You need rest.”

The agent only smiled, her eyes staying trained on the stars above. “I’ll come to bed soon, Peg. I swear.”

But Margaret knew her friend all too well, so she simply bid her goodnight and shook her head.

She whispered, though her friend was too far away to hear her, laying on her backside and tucking her arms behind her head on the damp grass.

“Goodnight, Peggy.”

She had fallen asleep on the green that night, the stars wooing her into a slumber with thoughts of her beloved. She was only awoken when she felt the ground rumble beneath her, and heard the loud whirring of a hummer engine. She sat up, pressing her hands in the wet soil. She squinted and was barely able to make out two tall men jumping out from the back of the car. 

She was initially unsure of who it was, but a shield being reflected on by the pale moonlight, and a hearty laugh soon confirmed her suspicions. She gasped and only to herself muttered Bucky’s name, picking herself up off the ground, running as fast as her feet could take her. 

“James! James!”

He turned his head from where he was talking to Colonel Phillips, immediately recognizing the voice as his wife’s. By the time he had noticed, she was already to him, so all he could do was welcome her with open arms. Literally.

She jumped into his arms, planting kisses all over his face. He laughed and laughed, Steve, and the Colonel, too, cracking a smile at the two’s reunion. She pulled away momentarily, looking over his dirty face. She ran her fingertips over the scratches and gashes, still having a hard time believing that after all this time, even under all the grime and blood and sweat, it was truly him. 

“Sarge, it’s been awhile.” She giggled out, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Same to you, Mrs. Barnes. Too long.” He commented, leaning forward and burying himself in her neck, allowing her to cradle him. He inhaled her perfume, taking the scent to memory for when he would inevitably have to go away once again, leaving her behind.

(So he thought.)

“That would be Agent Barnes to you.”

Bucky saluted, nodding and throwing a wink in her direction, before leaning in and planting a firm kiss to her lips that now only had remnants of red left around the edges from when she had applied it earlier on in the day. Their voices were now reduced to raspy whispers, both of them completely out of breath.

“Well either way, I’ve missed you greatly, Agent Barnes.”

“I’m glad we feel the same way.”

The two of them also felt extremely tired, leaving them to fall asleep that night packed side by side on a small cot in the corner of Steve’s tent. The brown sheets were horribly scratchy, and they had to mainly rely on each others bodies for heat. But despite this, all felt well, as if this new normal was finally worth it. 

-

In the morning, Steve had wanted to let the pair sleep in as long as humanly possible. The sun rising was one thing the great Captain America couldn't prevent, though. So as yellow light began to stream through the barely there material of their temporary home, the Barnes’ were given a somewhat pleasant awakening. 

Birds sang, bugs hummed, and the loud voices of Steve and Bucky’s soldiers could be heard, along with Steve occasionally hushing them if they came too close to their tent, still trying to preserve their well deserved rest. 

The thought made her smile, eyes slowly coming to an open. Bucky’s hand grew tighter on her waist, running circles on the silky fabric by her hip. Hers delicately made its way to brush messy brown locks from James’ closed eyes, the feeling comparable to a feather tickling the bridge of his nose. 

He scrunched it, blinking a few times, before commiting the view of waking up to the face of his wife for the first time to his memory, locked away to where Hydra would hopefully never take it. 

“Good morning, Agent Barnes.”

She shook her head, snuggling further into his chest and stretching her arms. “Mmmhm, not right now.” He placed a confused hand on her back, tracing a line up and down.“I thought it was only Agent Barnes?”

“Not in bed, James.”She looked up, smiling ear to ear. “Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.”

It was quiet in the tent, then. But always the one to break the silence, Bucky began to speak, his morning voice so incredibly low that it sent a shiver down her spine. 

“I mean, being my wife is a job in itself.”

They laughed, she shook her head and whacked his chest.

“Right you are.”

She stood up out of bed, shifting her hair to one shoulder with her hand. The glass on the face of her small watch reflected onto the walls, painting a rainbow stripe of light above Bucky’s head. She moved about, her babydoll pink colored slip moving along with her, almost as a toga would flow behind a goddess in the wind. James watched in amazement from his position propped up on his elbows, complete and total awe evident in his heart eyes for his wife. 

God, how he loved to say that, and hear it roll off of his tongue. Just to think it, even.

His wife.

He truly was a lucky man. And as she felt holes being stared into her back, she turned and giggled at Bucky’s antics.

“Now, I know your mother taught a gentleman such as yourself that ogling at women is rude, hmm?” She questioned, throwing the discarded slip at Bucky’s peeping eyes, then pulling on her uniform and beginning to fix her hair and makeup. Fingers moved quickly and expertly as she went about, her red nails almost appearing to move so quickly they were blurring.

He scoffed, forcing his nimble fingers through his knotted hair that could have been comparable to the nest that the very birds that played a hand in awakening them had resided in.

“Even if that woman is my very beautiful wife who I haven’t seen since I went away for war?”

He looked up, eyes bluer than Bing Cosby’s. (Sure, she had only seen them in the magazines, but hey, they seemed quite nice.) She finished putting on her lipstick, walking over and placing a hand under his chin. He looked up in a dreamy haze, basically begging for her lips to be placed on his.

She rolled her eyes and placed a long and sweet kiss upon his plump lips, restoring some of the color that sleep had stolen from them. She giggled at the lipstick left on his ivory skin, wetting her thumb and smudging it in a poor attempt to remove it. He cocked his head like some sort of puppy, slimming his eyes in an amused confusion.

“I guess that’s an exception.”

She leaned forward, leaving a short peck on his forehead, before ruffling his hair and making her way out of the tent. She briefly stopped hanging onto the post that acted as a door of sorts.

“Also, brush your teeth and hair, James. You stink.”

They smiled goofily at each other and she bit her lip, bidding him goodbye. And with that, she was off.

It was later in the day, now, and Bucky, Steve, and the rest of the commandos were in with the Colonel, discussing an upcoming mission. Peggy and Agent Barnes were decoding some of the Hydra messages the commandos had gathered on their previous mission in their general vicinity at the same time.

The paper was yellowed and stiff under her fingers, her eyes could barely stay focused on the multiple symbols in front of her, practically jumping off the page, vibrating at a high frequency.

She briefly closed her eyes and took a breath, trying to free her mind of the distraction that was her husband and honorary little (not so much now physically, but still) brother planning what sounded like an incredibly dangerous mission.

It was like a buzzing in her ear, the mention of capturing one of Hydra’s most valued scientists, and risking their lives in the process. And of course, he often did do just that, risking his life.

But call it wife's intuition, (Is that a thing? She isn’t sure) but she had a horrible feeling about it in the pit of her stomach. Something was telling her she should hug him a little tighter, kiss him a little harder, that kind of thing. And perhaps it could be discarded as the paranoia that had spread through many spouses as the war had started up, in fact, she wished it was.

Too lost in her own thoughts, it took Bucky’s hand on her shoulder to wake her from her trance. He began to quietly and cautiously speak her name in his position.

She turned, jumping ever so slightly. 

“Doll, you alright? Colonel was calling your name, you seemed real out of it.” He placed a hand on her forehead, then to her cheek, checking for any signs of a possible fever.

She didn’t reply to his concerns, only setting her hand utop his, leaning into him and closing her eyes. She opened them only moments later to see James squinting, his glance serious. He was quiet as he spoke, hesitating slightly. He muttered her name, trying to meet her eyes. He looked to see what was wrong, analyzing her, so badly wanting to fix whatever hurt there was lingering in her heart.

They stayed in that position for a while, the rest of the office seemingly standing still. She was the first to remove her hand, Bucky’s following suite.

“There’s a mission, in the Alps. Colonel wants you to come with the commandos and I, Peggy’s to stay here and work coms. He said something ‘bout needing someone who can sneak into places they shouldn’t be.” He chuckled, the sound bringing slight reassurance to her worrying mind.

“I’ll brief you tonight.”

She nodded, looking to her feet and whispering a quiet “okay”. They exchanged I love you’s, and then all that was heard was the faint clicking of James’ boots as he left her standing.

-

March 2nd, 1945

It was downright freezing in the Swiss forest.

And It would have been unbearable, if it weren’t for the fact she had Bucky to keep her warm, the man acting as a living furnace despite the frigid temperatures. The trek to do recom on the train they were intercepting was treacherous, feet ached, fingers were frosted, and the group spent much of their time (minus Steve, he had done enough of that when he was a sickly 90 pound asmatic) complaining to Mrs. Barnes, much to her dismay.

Usually, she would tell them off with a shake of her head or a slap to the arm, discarding their whines are nonsense.

In return for putting up with said nonsense, the commandos took her under their wing, so to say.

They never treated her differently than the rest of the group (or else she would have probably made her displeasure known, which both James and Steven warned them heavily against). Sharing the scotch, poking fun. In fact, if it weren’t for the nature of their escapade, she would have gone as far to say that she was having fun.

The only exception to this treatment was if she had to change, oftentimes borrowing a henley of Bucky’s or a pair of his trousers, the extra fabric heating her up quite nicely. Bucky would stand in front of whatever tree trunk she was hiding behind, watching to make sure no wandering eyes made any shameful attempts to catch a glimpse.

But overall, they worked well together, and were beginning to grow into a family, not that any of them would admit it.

“Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“What’re the chances this goes horribly wrong?”

He looked to his right to meet her eyes, wrapping an arm around his wife. They both turned back to the landscape of mountains, which were ironically quite beautiful. They were greeted with howling wind biting their noses and cheeks, causing her to let out a yelp, turning her head and tucking into Bucky’s arm briefly. He smiled and stroked the top of her messily tied back hair, allowing her to momentarily find comfort within his hold for what they didn't know would be the last time.

“With me? Nah, We’ll be alright. Zero to none.”

She rolled her eyes and smiled at his cocky behavior as she always would, his smirk settling her nerves.

“Yeah.” She exhaled. “We’ll be alright.”

-

March 4th, 1945

The brick remains of the pub were dimly lit by the lone street lamp standing bravely on the cobblestone, illuminating the puffy faces of the two sitting inside. Steve, stone cold sober, and Agent Barnes, drunk and with tears streaming down her flushed skin. The dust had barely settled; it could still be felt, burning her nostrils.

She heard heels, a telltale sign that Peggy had arrived, sorting through the rubble.

She had approached calmly, observing the situation. Steve muttered something about not being able to get drunk, earning some heartfelt speech from the other agent and a proclamation of a newfound fire for justice in Steve. But Peggy’s sorrowful glance soon became unreadable, then transitioning into one of anger and sympathy, however that was possible.

She tried calling the surviving Barnes’ name, voice stern. She snatched the bottle from her friends hand, noticing she had downed the whole thing.

She began some winded spiel, none of it processing, only a faint buzz in one ear out the other.

“I know you’re hurting, but James would have wanted you to pick yourself up, an-”

“He lied. You know that? The bastard lied.”

She wiped a singular tear from her left eye, staring blankly at the ring that still managed to shine even then, in what was close to total darkness in every sense.

“He said that we would be alright. That him and I would be okay. And then he went and you know what he did, Peg? He died.”

Steve looked up, and stood, walking to where she was across from him. 

He gently tugged her up and wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

She was stiff as a board at first but slowly melted into it, realizing that it felt nice to be cared for by him like she did all those years ago, the favor being returned when she most needed it.

“We’ll fix this, I promise.”

She closed her eyes tighter, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“I know.”

-

May 26th, 1945

“Steve, I’m not leaving you!”

“Go, grab the parachute and go, I’ll send your coordinates to Peggy! Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Steve, it’s alright.”

He met her eyes, water pooling in both of their orbs.

“I’ll be with him.” She forced a smile, taking hold of one of Steve’s gloved hands.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

The time was passing, they could hear the uncomfortable sloshing of the Arctic water below them, coming closer and closer. Jagged ice taunted them, glistening faintly in the light.

“Please, don’t do this to Peg.”

Steve had made his decision, as had she.

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

The sound was difficult to decipher at the command center, static intercepting the voices of the pair as they bargained with death. But it was clear enough in order for everyone to realize what was happening.

Heads were bowed, tears fell, and even the Colonel allowed a salty drop to roll down his weathered cheek.

Steve and Peggy conversed, while Barnes sat next to Steve, closing her eyes. She was content. She was finally going home.

“I’d hate to step on your-”

Then, the line went dead.

“See ya, Rogers.”

-

2011

“This guy is still alive!”

“And the girl?”

The other man only shook his head.

-

2013

Skye dragged her finger along the etchings on the gray stone, mentally reading the names of fallen soldiers and agents.

“S.H.I.E.L.D.'s history can be traced on walls like this.”

Then she came upon something peculiar. Her finger lingered momentarily, the name on the plaque bringing back memories of when she was a young girl in school, learning about James Buchanan Barnes, one of two Howling Commandos to have died in the line of duty. The other, she couldn’t quite seem to remember.

“Huh. Bucky Barnes.” She looked a moment longer, reading the script underneath James’ name. 

“There was another Barnes?”

She turned to Agent Ward who was standing behind her, arms crossed and chin down.

“Yeah. They were married. Some say she put that plane in the water on purpose. That she could have left, but wanted to see him again after he died.

Puts it in perspective- What we do.”

-

2014

The lights in the exhibit were bright, too bright. Faces were plastered everywhere, familiar faces. The soldier felt lost without his handler, no direction whatsoever as he aimlessly wandered.

Aimlessly wandering, what a foreign concept. Not running from an enemy, or sneaking around, a shadow. Free to do whatever he pleases.

He saw his own reflection on a glass panel, information of who he supposedly was written next to it, about when he was born, when he had died. Videos playing on repeat of him and Steve nearby caught his attention, leading him to slowly make his way towards the shiny screen. He saw himself laugh, smiling with whoever this Steve guy was.

Then the screen switched to him and a girl.

In a slight contrast, the girl was the one laughing this time, her smile igniting something within the soldier, overwhelming him with a flurry of emotion and realization.

He panicked, turning to his left, only to see her again, standing next to him in a large mural. She was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

A voice began to speak, clouding his senses even more.

It spoke about Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers, how they were “inseparable on both schoolyard and battlefield.”

It continued, and his confusion grew even further. It mentioned a girl who had what he learned to be his last name.

Not a mother, or a sister, but a wife.

“They became the only Howling Commandos to give their lives in service of their country."

Her name rang in his head, over and over again. He was married, he had a wife.

Had.

He walked up to where her clothes were displayed under her portrait, reaching a tentative hand out and feeling the fabric, rough from time. He could remember doing that before, but the fabric was silkier, then. It was different as a whole. It was pink satin, and the wearer was his wife, he now could see.

He was in a tent, laying on a scratchy cot, the girl laying with him, in his arms.

“Right now, I’m your wife, and only your wife.” Her smile and laugh were heavenly, her voice like honey. Her touch was smooth and left a tingle in its wake, bringing peace to his bustling mind.

Then he was suddenly back in the museum, hand still planted firmly on the hem of the shirt.

“Excuse me? Sir? You can’t be touching that.”

The soldier turned, facing the scrawny worker. His glasses were too large, hair too short, and pants 2 sizes too big. He gulped, doing a double take from the mural of James Barnes (who last time he checked a history book, had his remains somewhere buried under piles of ice and snow in the mountains of the Alps) and the man in front of him, who matched the recently trending image his coworker showed him of the Winter Soldier, the assassin who had over two dozen kills under his belt.

And if this were a mission, the soldier would have killed the man, executed him without second thought.

But now, he had free will. He had a choice.

So he chose to mutter a low “sorry” under his breath, pulling his baseball cap further over his brow and exiting the facility as quickly as possible.

The worker quit that night.

-

2016

A feed began to play on the tiny screen that Tony, Steve, and Bucky were crowded around, no video, just black with a thin line, moving in accordance with the audio. The sound was choppy, like it had been modified.

Zemo’s beady eyes slanted, a cold smile growing on his bearded face.

“I’ll be with him.”

“What the hell is this?” James yelled the question aimed towards both Zemo and himself.

But Steve knew exactly what it was, knew that voice, knew the feeling of the cold water enveloping him as he did his best to keep her warm in her final moments, a final favor for both Bucky and his wife.

“It’s not too late for you to go, Stevie. I’ll put her in the water. If you wait any longer you won’t make it.”

It was quiet, the line stopped moving. 

“See you on the other side, Barnes.”

“See ya, Rogers.”

The audio cut out.

“It’s her.” Bucky’s metal fist audibly clenched, his eyes darkening.

“You let her die, Steve.”

“Buck-”

“You killed her! I had a wife, and you let her die!”

Steve backed up, instinctively raising the shield from Bucky once more.

“That was her choice, Bucky.”

He was calm. Too calm.

“I don’t give a damn what her choice was, you should’ve pushed her out of that damn plane if you had to.”

“She wouldn’t have survived that fall, Buck, even with a parachute, she probably would have drowned, or gotten hypothermia or-”

“You don’t know that!”

Bucky rushed forward, anger infiltrating every fibre of his being. He threw a punch with his metal arm, a loud clang ringing out as it collided with the vibranium shield.

-

2024

“We’ll meet again

Don’t know where, don’t know when

But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day”

The room was pitch black aside from the blinking light on the record player, letting Bucky know that power was still running through the wires of the machine, keeping the same song spinning, over, and over, and over again.

The same one that’s been playing for the past 2 months. Over, and over, and over again.

The door creaked, sending a stream of light cascading across Bucky’s ridden features from his place where he was sat staring blankly at her tags laying in his flesh hand. He had started wearing them when she insisted, just in case anything were to happen to her, she wanted him to have a physical reminder of her. He had refused to give her his own, not wanting to admit anything might go wrong to where she would need them.

What a joke.

Zola had recovered them from around his neck, later to be stored away and then found by Steve in 2015 during a Hydra base invasion. He had immediately recognized the name pressed onto the material, and assumed someone who was an undercover agent snagged them during the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., never thinking anything more of it.

“This isn’t healthy, man.” Sam spoke softly from the door, his hand never leaving the doorknob.

“When we got snapped away, I didn’t mind it.”

Sam opened the door even more, sliding in the slim crack, closing it behind him.

Bucky’s glance never faltered.

“I thought that maybe, I’d finally see her again. And, I know it was selfish-” He laughed dryly, meeting Sam’s warm eyes.

“But she wasn’t there. When I died, she wasn’t there.”

Sam’s arms were crossed, now, and he was unsure of how to proceed with the fragile shell of a man in front of him.

“Then everyone came back 5 years later, she still wasn’t there.” He chuckled once more, feeling over her name on the plates, tossing the chain over his head. It was quiet, the record stopped.

“And this sounds crazy, but I got to thinking, that she must still be alive-”

“You know she’s gone, Bucky.”

James stood up, walking over to Sam, a terrifying blaze set in his eyes. He was frantic, hands moving about the air, neck straining.

“She’s not, Hydra has her! I’m certain, just like they had me. What else would explain her not being there?”

“You’re in denial,”

“No, I’m not! She’s waiting for me! She’s waiting for me to come find her, Sam!” He yelled, every word louder than the last.

And Sam Wilson had enough. 

“Alright, that’s it.” He grabbed James by the wrist, taking his chances.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting some sense into you.”

More yelling and fighting ensued, all the way to the car, Bucky only ceasing his behavior upon realizing where they were heading. He was silent, then.

Getting out of the vehicle, they stepped onto freshly wet soil, green patches fading to a burnt orange, the rain a poor attempt at revival. They could hear their own footsteps all the way to their final destination, turmoil settling in.

“Why’d you take me here, Sam?”

It had started raining, the cold droplets making his hair stick to his forehead, and his tears invisible.

Mere inches before him sat two headstones, both fairly worn. The first, reading “Cap. Steven Grant Rogers, a true American hero. Loving brother, friend, and son.”

The second? Her.

Most of the words all blended together, it was clear Steve’s was the only one that had any regular visitors, willing to clean off any dirt or grime, or occasionally bring flowers (always red roses for Cap, as for his wife, he hoped that when it did happen, it was her favorites, lilies. He doubted it was, though). 

The only words that managed to stick out, at least to him, were “Barnes” and “loving wife”. He inhaled, capturing the scent of fresh rain and roses, grounding him. He felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, giving a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry I had to do that, but she’s gone, you know?”

He nodded, squatting down in an awkward position.

“Can I have a minute?”

Sam nodded, turning to go.

“‘Course, I’ll be in the car.”

Bucky waited until he could no longer see the outline of the shorter man, before taking the tags off from where they rested around his neck, positioning them utop the marble slab. He gathered a few weeds, messily shoving them into the vase, dirt and stray blades of grass falling all over the place. He tried to brush it off, only creating a sludge-like watery mixture.

He leaned forward, taking hold of the hard stone.

“I’m coming for you, sweetheart. I promise, I’ll find you.”

“Bucky?” Sam yelled from the car, confused at the extended amount of time his friend was taking.

James turned, yelling over his shoulder, “Coming!”

-

Once Bucky got back to the car, Sam reached over and patted his back, starting the engine.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

James only smiled, looking out behind him to where they all said was her final resting place, excitement for the future running through his veins.

“Yeah.” He said, sitting further back into the seat, closing his eyes. 

“I’ll be alright.”

·。·☆·。·。

hi!

disclaimer: (skip if u dont care) so i’ve had personal expiriences w alcoholism, and my pov has changed so much on the disease and as well as how to handle it w more empathy, and i just hope that is conveyed. my hope w my work is never to upset or offend anyone, and i hope u enjoyed. if u have a prob w anything, shoot me a message or ask to chat :)

go drink water, eat protein (if u can!) and take an electronics break. i love u, 

xx hj

#tw alchohol mention #tw alchoholism #tw denial #tw character death #tw war #if theres any more tw u want me to tag lmk pls #bucky barnes #40s!bucky x reader #40!s bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes one shot #bucky fanfic #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #steve rogers #Sebastian Stan #Seb Stan #sebastian x reader #sebastian stan fanfic #bucky barnes fanfic #seb stan imagine #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes x oc #seb stan x reader #seb stan x reader smut #sebastian stan imagines

[dalekofchaos]

Harmione au & headcanons

My au and headcanons for Harmione 🖤

There was a hint of things to come in their first year. Before they leave. Hermione tells Harry "Harry, you're a great wizard, you know. " "I'm not as good as you." "Me? Books and cleaverness! There are more important things! — Friendship! And Bravery and— love!" Inspiration

Harry fell in love with Hermione the moment they saved Buckbeak together and Hermione has always loved Harry

Before Hermione could ask Viktor to the Yule Ball, she finds out that he has a date. So Hermione and Harry at the same time yell “WILL YOU GO WITH ME TO THE YULE BALL?” Both of them are redder than their Gryffindor colors. 

When Harry witnesses Hermione in her Yule Ball dress, his jaw drops and smiles at her with heart eyes and Hermione looks at Harry like he’s her prince charming. 

It was then when they danced together that Harry and Hermione confessed their feelings for each other. Hermione is the one who goes in for the kiss.

Later they find out that Ron asked out Viktor. Ron is happy for his friends, so while all parties are content, there is no drama

During the second task, Harry rescues Hermione

Hermione is there to comfort Harry over Cedric’s death and Voldemort’s return. What it may look like.

As Harry and Hermione bid each other farewell until year 5, Hermione hugs Harry and kisses him on the cheek and Harry embraces Hermione in a kiss.  Like so

Hermione would gift Harry her second copy of Hogwarts:A History and makes absolutely clear. “Harry James Potter, after 4 years you will finally read Hogwarts:A History! Do I make myself clear?” A twitch of fear enters Harry’s reality after he saw what Hermione did to Rita. “Yes Hermione”

In Harry’s copy of Hogwarts:A History is a portrait of Harry and Hermione’s dance and first kiss. 

Only thoughts of Hermione kept Harry sane from the nightmares of Voldemort and Cedric

Thinking of Hermione allowed Harry to conjure a corporal Patronus to save himself and Dudley

Hermione wakes up after hearing Harry’s night terrors. Hermione cuddles with Harry and that stops Harry’s terrors stop

Other nights, Hermione would read to Harry until he falls asleep

After seeing what Umbridge did to Harry, not only does Hermione tell McGonagall, but Hermione confronts the loathsome toad and makes it explicitly clear that Umbridge’s archaic and medieval practices against students is illegal. Hermione is sentenced to detention for her troubles of course, this later furthers Hermione’s “fuck the rules” mentality

Harry Ron and Hermione would of course found Dumbledore’s Army as per canon

In private, Hermione would ask Harry if he’s read Hogwarts:A History. Harry said yes and loved it and asks Hermione to keep recommending books to him. This would leave Hermione with the biggest smile and blush possible. “Oh Harry”

Harry and Hermione would help Cho through her grief with Cedric

Harry and Hermione cast their patronuses together. Hermione’s Otter loves on Harry’s Stag

Harry and Hermione’s nicknames for each other after seeing their patronus is “Darling Otter” and “Dashing Stag”

Cho would talk to Harry and Hermione in confidence about Marietta sand they are able to get through to her before she talks to Umbridge

Harry and Hermione still fuck up Umbridge’s shit. “I’m sorry professor, we must not tell lies” and they hold hands as Umbridge suffers the consequences

When Hermione was stunned and silenced by Antonin Dolohov, Harry bombarded him with Stupefy

Hermione would be there to comfort Harry after Sirius’ death

During the summer, Harry and Hermione would spend time together. Harry would meet Mr and Mrs Granger, which was lovely. Hermione met the Dursleys. Which was not pleasant. They watched movies together and danced together and skated together before Hermione returned home

Hermione would wear Harry’s Quidditch jerseys and Harry would read Hermione’s books

When Harry arrives at the Burrow, everyone greets him as normally. But Ron has something to tell everyone. Ron is bisexual and in love with Viktor Krum. Everyone is accepting and proud of Ron.

Hermione would try to talk Harry out of spying on Draco, but Harry insists there is something suspicious about Draco

Harry and Hermione go on a date to Slughorn’s Christmas party. Harry and Hermione would kiss under the mistletoe

Instead of Hermione being heartbroken over not being with Ron, it’s Ron who is saddened by not being able to see his boyfriend. So Harry gives Ron Sirius’ old Two-Way Mirror. 

Harry and Hermione would dance at Bill and Fleur’s wedding

When Remus asks Harry to be Godson to Teddy, Harry agrees, and so does Hermione. 

During the hunt for the Horcruxes, pretty much the same stuff happens

Harry and Hermione have their same moments in Godric Hollow. But I’d also add, “I think my mum and dad would’ve love you, Hermione.”

Rest of the story would remain the same. Ron returns, Hermione would be mad at first and welcome him back. Pretty much the same till Battle Of Hogwarts

Harry and Hermione would be Battle Couple goals in the Battle Of Hogwarts. 

As Harry tells Hermione and Ron what he must do after witnessing Snape’s memories. Hermione breaks down. Harry embraces Hermione in a hug and a kiss. 

When Voldemort gloats about killing Harry and demands obedience and loyalty. After Neville’s “FUCK YOU! I’LL JOIN YOU WHEN HELL FREEZES OVER,  DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY” defiance,  Hermione stands defiant and gives a speech, basically saying those who died are not in vain. How she loved Harry, something Voldy could never understand and that Harry is still with her. And basically saying Voldemort will fall as they know his secret and just one more remains. Voldemort absolutely seething with rage. Screams. “You filthy mudblood, AVADA KEDAVRA!” And Harry wakes and casts a shield charm to save Hermione. Voldemort’s full attention is focused on Harry.

Ron and Hermione try to desperately kill Nagini, but fail. Luckily Neville with the sword of Gryffindor kills the snake and the final Horcrux

After the Battle Of Hogwarts, Harry and Hermione begin to plan their life together

When Hermione found out Harry was choosing not to attend Harry’s 7th Year after free from Voldemort and the war. Hermione sent a Howler. “HARRY JAMES POTTER, YOU MARCH YOUR ASS TO DIAGON ALLEY AND TO KING’S CROSS STATION AND PREPARE TO ATTEND YOUR 7TH YEAR RIGHT NOW!” Ron thinks he’s in the clear.....until Molly’s letter. Needless to say, Harry and Ron did attend their final year. Kingsley is NOT pulling them out of Hogwarts, cause he does not want to face the wrath of Molly Weasley

Sometime after graduating Hogwarts, Harry proposed to Hermione in Godric’s Hollow. Harry got down on his knee and asked her “Hermione, my Otter and my soul mate. Will you marry me and grow old with me in Godric’s Hollow?” Hermione, smiling with tears of joy shouts “Yes!”

idk the specifics of their vows, but I believe it would end with Harry telling Hermione. “Hermione. in you I found love, peace and Harmony. I love you Hermione Jean Granger and I am complete with you.”

Either they would fix up The Potters’ Cottage in Godric’s Hollow or build their own Cottage

Harry and Hermione would raise Teddy as their own, but always remind him of who Remus and Tonks were and what they sacrificed to keep him safe. 

Harry would be an Auror for a time and Hermione would be Deputy Head of the Law Enforcement department. After a time, they would retire and return to Hogwarts as Professors. Harry would be the DADA Professor and Hermione would be the Transfiguration Professor. 

Harry and Hermione’s children would be named. James Sirius Potter, Rose Lily Potter and Leo Serpen Potter

All was well

#Harry Potter #Harmione #Harry James Potter #Hermione Granger #HHR #Harmony #harry x hermione

[monst]

Heya monst! If it’s not to much to ask, how would Kirishima + Amajiki (it can be separate or poly if that’s easier for you) be with an S/O with a smaller chest? I’ve been feeling pretty self conscious lately, and with the new episode out, I gotta get me some loving (SFW or NSFW)

Separate!!

__________________________

Itty Bitty Titty love💕

All characters 18+

Kirishima Eijirou x reader & Amajiki Tamaki x reader 

Warnings: Hmm both sfw & nsfw so sexy time themes 🤔 Ngl I really like how Tamaki's turned out 👉👈 it was like cute but also 👀😳. Breif sexting cause I hc Tamaki being good at sexting👀 And yeah enjoy?

Kirishima Eijirou 

Sfw

Never really noticed the size of your chest as it wasn't as important to the fact that you had accepted him as your boyfriend. He knew you were beautiful but the moment he figured that out wasn't due to your physical being. You were beautiful in theory, beautiful in the way your smile lit up his days, beautiful in the way that your words filled his heart with ease and beautiful in the way that there would be no other rose that could compare. 

Kirishima loved you and your body. He thought of you as the most perfectly imperfect being on earth. Every inch of flesh whether marked with a blemish or scar was beautiful to him. But Eijirou was well acquainted with the feelings of inadequacy. It did not take him long to notice how self conscious of your breasts you were. 

"It's just that some girls can wear things I can't you know?" "If I tried to wear that I'd look ridiculous since theres barely anything up here" "Guys like girls with big boobs so sometimes I get bummed out when were walking around and there's a girl with big tits" "Hell even Bakugou's breasts are bigger than mine." These were a few of the things you had said to the redhead when he had confronted about it. That day you both were to go out but you had canceled last minute claiming that you shouldn't.

"(Name)? Are you just some girl?" He had asked. "No, your not. And I'm not most guys if that's what your worried about." "I love every inch of you, you don't need to worry about me leaving you for such a superficial reason." "I love your breast and I'll keep on loving them till they turn into wrinkly saggy Bean bags. And you want to know why? Because there yours and nothing about you in my eyes is inadequate."

Nsfw

Kirishima loves that his hands can cover your breasts entirely as it makes him feel big. Just seeing his hands over your chest makes him feel protective of you. He loves the size difference and it helps inflate his ego. Which is good for him as sometimes he gets hit with those loser lows. 

He thinks it's hot that you sometimes go without a bra. Especially when he can see your nipples pebbling through whichever fabric you have on. He uses this to his advantage as he comes up from behind to grope your chest your nipples brushing up against his palms. He'll tease you by tugging on the hardened buds and lean down to whisper in your ear. "This is a nice treat~ If they were bigger you wouldn't be walking around like this." He never let an opportunity to make you feel good pass "Just another reason why I love you size" Needless to say when he said 'size' he'd draw a moan from your lips as he squeezed down. At the sound he wouldn't be able to stop himself~

Kirishima is very into body worship so when your bare before him expect lots of praise. His touch is surprisingly soft for someone so rugged. Until he goes beast mode XD. He'll make sure to give extra attention to your breasts. His mouth taking in your perky nipples into his mouth as you push your chest out. The scrapes you receive from his teasing bites have your back arching and his name spilling from your lips. His fingers massaging the mounds until your butter underneath him. "Are you going to cum? Just from this?" 

The tease loves blowing air onto them afterwards to see goosebumps litter your flesh. And the marks? Honey when you look into the mirror your chest is covered by various hickies and bite marks all indicating the amount of attention he poured into them the previous nights. You know sometimes when he catches you feeling down about your ta ta's he'll whisk you away to leave more love bites on them. Oh? Your in public? Does that really matter?

Amajiki Tamaki 

Nsfw & sfw mixed :p

Was not the best at hiding his nerves and now that he thinks back on it realized that he may have caused you more distress than comfort…. When you first removed your top before him he choked up. His face was a furious shade of red. His eyes were as wide as his gaping mouth and he didn't know what to do. He was torn between commenting and touching. He refrained from touching as he didn't want to gross you out with his sweaty palms…. So he sputtered an eloquent "Look nice they.".....

He figured out that he should have been more calm and he confronted you about it when he got an earful from Neijire about how you felt. Apparently "He just looked.. He didn't even touch me. It's like he was disappointed that there wasn't much to touch." Having those words thrown to his face by his friend made him feel as if he didn't deserve you but he wasn't going to give up on you. Not with how long he was pinning after you. Hell Amajiki decided that he was going to make you feel confident about your breasts and he was going to show you that he loved all of you!

Easier said than done…. You see you drove Tamaki up a wall. Just one look could send him into overdrive and he'd sputter and stumble over his words. This often did more harm than good in regards to your self esteem. And it would kill him when you'd give him a faux smile and pretend everything was okay. 

"Why can't I just say what I mean" he would huff. "Why don't you use your actions? You've always been better at doing then speaking" Mirio mused as he drank from his shake. "What are you saying Togata? You want Tamaki to press himself into (Name)'s chest?" He tuned them out and thought that maybe…. It wasn't such a bad idea. Needless to say you had received a really weird text from Nejire 'Please forgive Tamaki. He got advice from Togata…'

*ping* When you looked down at your phone you felt your face ignite. 'Are you alone? Scroll down if you are.' You did and you couldn't believe what you were seeing. Tamaki's eyes were half-lidded his sultry gaze burning you through the screen. His ivory skin tone was painted a rosy pink as he bit his lip seductively. 'That shirt you have on today is doing this to me.' 'All I can think about are your cute nipples peaking out at me through the fabric. And I just wanna bite down on them till you're begging me to keep going'

 You kept texting him your lip caught between your teeth 'Your size is perfect for going braless. And there just the right size for me to grope and tease. You want that right? It's why your wearing that shirt. You want me to grab your tits? Pull you into an alley and bend you over? Play with your cute nipples as I pound that tight pussy? Fuck bunny I better not see you while I'm on patrol. I won't be able to stop myself~' Your breath caught in your throat at the next picture. Your eyes were blown wide as you viewed the image. His thick cock was in hand, hard and throbbing and to put icing on the cake he was on patrol as you could see the white of the tunic caught in his teeth…… You totally went to the area he was patrolling and he definitely kept his promise.

Each day before he'd head out he'd leave you notes telling you how much he loved you and each day he'd dedicate it to a specific body part. Your lips, your nose, your voice, your breasts, you pussy, your eyes. Everything. It never failed to warm your heart and it helped you feel good about yourself. Your lover only had eyes for you and he made sure you knew it. And you'd feel your face burn when he'd give your twins appreciative kisses. "One for the left. And one for the right." You thought it was cute how red his face was when he'd do that. 

"H-have I told you how much I love you?" "Only a couple of times, but say it again so I don't forget" "I love you" He was super cheesy. And as he nuzzled against you he kissed in between your breasts. "I love all of you. Your absolutely perfect and I wouldn't change a thing about you. And whenever you feel anything less than perfect I'll be here to remind you that you're a goddess, deserving of everything good in life." It nearly brought you to tears. Had he not bitten a nipple playfully. You know Tamaki was more sexual that people gave him credit for and Oh- he was flipping you over. Guess he's gotta worship his goddess now~

Final commentary!!!!

All titties are great! Big titties, small titties, medium sized titties, no titties, titties that aren't the same size, pierced titties, titties with different sized areolas and nipples, titties that face east and west, titties that sag. You guys catch my drift right? Your boobs are yours and no one else's so please appreciate and love your body! And don't let anyone make you feel bad about it! After all there is only one you ^.^ And the you who you are is the perfect you!!!💕

#bnha #tamaki amakiji #tamaki amakiji x reader #tamaki amajiki smut #amajiki smut #eijirou kirishima #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima smut #bnha headcanons #kirishima headcanon #tamaki amajiki headcanons

[fandom-smut-shots]

Marshall Lee - Photographs

Photographs – Marshall Lee

Dait

A/N: Modern life AU. Feelsy and angsty but with a happy ending!

           The smile that stretched across your face was more intense than the sun as you stood beside the love of your life. A tall, lanky teenage boy with shaggy black hair and creamy skin stood beside you, an arm draped lazily over your shoulders and a dopey grin on his lips, exposing his pointed teeth. His brows were arched, eyes narrowed seductively, though the way he held you to his side exhibited nothing but pure adoration and love. Your arms were secured around his waist, pressing your torsos together, your head tucking ever-so-slightly into his neck.

           A bittersweet smile tugged at the corner of your mouth as you placed the framed photo on your bedside table. It was only the first out of the box labeled “Marshall,” and you knew the rest of its contents would be as heartbreaking as they were precious. Reaching in, you produced another frame, another piece of memorabilia capturing the love between you and the raven-haired delinquent.

           His lips pressed against yours passionately, a slender hand resting delicately upon your cheek. It was your eighteenth birthday, the third consecutive birthday you’d celebrated with your troublesome boyfriend. In your hands was this year’s present – a teddy bear wearing one of Marshall’s old t-shirts, cut and poorly stitched back together in order to fit the toy’s tiny frame.

         “So you don’t miss me all the time,” had been his reasoning, a response to your concerns about attending different colleges. You’d been accepted into the ivy leagues to pursue your dream, while he had only managed to apply to a state college. You’d wanted to attend the same school, but Marshall had insisted that your education and your chosen career was more important, and that your relationship was strong enough to survive the distance of the ocean.

           A sniffle tingled its way through your nose, and you scrubbed a hand across your eyes to stifle the budding tears before they could even fully form. You weren’t going to cry. You were in college now, unpacking your new dorm room. Marshall was… not there.

           One hand held another, the first displaying the second like a masterpiece. Marshall’s long fingers wrapped easily around your palm, his thumb caressing your knuckles. Your left hand appeared as it always had, though with one major exception.

         On your ring finger sat a silver band with a simple, small gemstone in the center. It wasn’t big or flashy, but Marshall could only afford so much, working at the convenience store down the road after school and on weekends.

         “It’s perfect,” you’d insisted when he tried to claim that he’d buy you a better one someday. You didn’t want a better one – you wanted this one. This was the one that Marshall chose. This one made your heart flutter and melt and tingle.

           Your parents had never approved of your relationship with the troublemaker. You were a proper young lady, destined for amazing things. Marshall was a hoodlum from a broken home, destined to follow in the footsteps of his alcoholic mother and deadbeat father. You’d never believed the harsh stereotypes that the town placed on your boyfriend. You knew how good of a person he could be, how amazing he wanted to become.

         Once your father found out that Marshall had proposed (by sauntering into your room unannounced, hoping to catch the two of you in a compromising position so that he had a reason to throw the boy out of his house), he’d been furious. There was screaming, and crying, and swearing, and your father had grasped the front of Marshall’s shirt and dragged him all the way through the house. You’d watched in horror as Marshall was harshly thrown out into the rain, landing with a wet thump on the pavement. Before you could call out to him, the front door had been closed and locked, and your father ordered for you to return to your room with the lowest, lividest tone you’d ever heard come from his mouth.

           You stood at the podium on the stage, accepting a hug from your principal as a diploma was placed in your hands. Your cap was stationed loosely on your head, and your eyes were dull and lifeless. A hand clapped you on the back, but you couldn’t be bothered to thank the staff members or pose for photos. You and Marshall were supposed to graduate together…

           Another sigh tumbled from your lips as you set the photo of your graduation in the drawer of your table rather than on top of it. It was an experience you’d rather not recall.

         You lost the love of your life only a month before graduation, and you hadn’t cared about anything else since his death.

         After your father had thrown him out, he’d had to walk home in the pouring rain. You lived in the nice, quiet suburbs, but Marshall lived in the dangerous back alley section of the town. He crept along the shadows, keeping to himself, but a group of thugs decided to interrupted his walk. He’d fought back as hard as he could, but he was sore from being thrown to the sidewalk, and the rain was weighing him down, and he wasn’t particularly strong due to how scrawny he was. The brutes overpowered him, tossing him down. His body was littered with bruises within seconds. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, and by the time the paramedics arrived, he was barely holding on.

         Your father had informed you of Marshall’s passing the next day, and you’d spent the entire afternoon sobbing into your pillow, clutching the teddy bear he’d given you. Your parents had tried to coax you out of your room, with food and movies and offers to leave the house, but you’d refused every single word, instead drowning in your own sorrow.

           Now in college, your dorm was nearly unpacked. Your mother had accompanied you in order to help transport all of your belongings, but you’d sent her away as quickly as she would allow. You wanted a break from your parents, a break from your old life. There were only two forces driving you to complete your degree – financial independence, and honoring Marshall’s memory.

         You participated in college activities, eating dinner with the rest of the students in the dining hall, watching a movie with your roommates as a method of bonding. Once they retired to their own rooms, you settled into bed, a book in your lap and your beside lamp illuminating the small space. You were just about to doze off- the only sleep you seemed to get nowadays was when you exhausted your brain and succumbed unintentionally- when a tapping sound emanated from your window. Heart pounding in your chest, you slowly turned your head, expecting to find some horrible intruder. Instead, the shaggy hair and toothy grin that you’d dreamt about for the last several months met your gaze, and you nearly collapsed.

         Setting your book down, you rose from the bed, slowly creeping towards the window. The rational side of your brain screamed at you to go back to bed – there was no way Marshall could be at your window. He was dead. Long dead. Your father had said so.

         But your emotions were running wild, and your heart ached desperately, and you sat at the windowsill and unlatched the window and slid it open.

         “M-Marsh?” you greeted hesitantly, and his grin widened.

         “Hey, babe,” he returned.

         You exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, surging forward to grasp Marshall by the arms and tug him through the window. He grunted upon tumbling to the floor, crawling to the wall and taking a side beside you on the windowsill.

         “How?” you questioned, reaching out to cup his cheek. His skin was cold, presumably from the chilly night air, but he leaned into your touch nonetheless.

         “Remember the night I proposed?” he inquired.

         You nodded, left hand squeezing into a fist as if to remind yourself that the ring was still stationed on your finger – it was.

         “After your dad threw me out, I got mugged,” he explained, placing a hand over yours on his cheek. “They beat the shit out of me and left me for dead. I was lucky to make it to the hospital. It took hours, so the doctors told me, to bring me back, but they eventually got my heart pumping again. I had to stay there for a few months to recover, and by the time I got out, our senior year was over and I knew there was no way I’d be able to contact you without your parents finding out.”

         “My dad told me you were dead,” you gasped, hot tears streaking down your face.

         Marshall’s eyes widened. “He what? He seriously told you I died?”

         You nodded, your lower lip trembling. “H-he said that y-you got attacked, a-and you died on the way to the hospital.”

         “Oh, babe,” he sighed, pulling you to his chest and resting his head on yours. Damn, he smelled just as good as he always had. “I’m so sorry. I’d have sought you out sooner if I knew. I just didn’t want to face your dad again, and get you in trouble. How mad was he, after he kicked me out?”

         “He tried to take the ring,” you admitted, gazing up at Marshall.

         “Did you let him?”

         With a teary grin, you lifted your left hand. Marshall smirked widely, taking your hand and kissing your ring finger.

         “That’s my girl.”

         You lurched forward, burying your face in his neck. His arms tightened around you, cradling you to his chest.

         “I know I can’t stay,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

         “You can stay the night,” you replied, squeezing him tighter. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”

         He nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

         You led him to your bed, all but forcing him under the covers before you curled into his side. He held you tightly, refusing to let go even for a second. You turned off the lamp and exhaled softly, your head resting on his chest. As you drifted to sleep, the last image you saw was the collection of photographs displayed on your bedside table.

#marshall lee #marshall lee x reader #adventure time #adventure time x reader #reader insert