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scoonsalicious · 4 days

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THIRD DAY IN A ROW, mother pookie, thou has delivered. AGAIN!!

🩷🩷🩷

OUR MAN BUCKY BARNES HAS REAPPEARED. LET US REJOICE TO THE UPCOMING GROWTH HE SHALL PROVE

Now let me tell ya that I shed some tears at part 3-4. REAL TEARS. I had to read it twice because it was TOO GOOD.

Real footage of me crying btw

So my question has been answered, SHE IS PREGNANT. I was skeptical with that theory but poisoning sounds too weird for it to prolong that long (😂). But i wasn’t sure. Pookie you are indeed the mastermind. I cried when Pocket broke down because let’s be real, if the thing between Bucky and Cunthage didn’t happened (Cunthage didn’t fucking exist), Pocket would actually care for the baby. She’s frustrated, she’s hurt, she’s disappointed, she’s at her lowest point.

When she woke up, finding Bucky there, it’s like she’s snapped into a defensive mode. She have/make this mindset where Bucky would hurt her (but in truth she’s the one who’s hurt because she YEARNS for him but is in denial — so by thinking that she’s hurt, she thinks that Bucky would hurt her… get it?😂). Also Bad Decision #28 wasn’t able to fuck Bucky out of her system. She wasn’t able to forget Bucky and he reappears? That’s one hell of emotion rollercoaster.

‘The nile’ is a river in Egypt, your love life cheated on you with a cunt. — The reminder in Pockets head

I love it when she told him that she’s not fucking with people to get back at him, she’s doing it to forget him. But rather than making her forget, it makes her misses him more, of the things that she lost. (Man, I bet Bucky was giggling inside because she couldn’t forget him — but ofc he’s disappointed with himself for putting her in that situation too… but… still, that doesn’t mean he cant)

We can clearly see there the love Pocket has for Bucky (man she love him so much). Salut Bucky for his patience. He’s calm and collected now, and not spouting shits like my girl, not being possessive. He control himself for Pocket. She needs him his hug — ‘just a little bit’ (you see that reference?😂) Again we’re seeing this in Pocket’s POV, but I guarantee you Bucky is this close 🤏🏻 in losing his sanity when he was called to the hospital.

One thing I like to highlight is the talk between Pocket thinking she’s not good enough for Bucky to share his issue, and Bucky not wanting to talk about it because he wants to impress Pocket by hiding his ugliness (the getting hard part) is so real. It’s easier to share something to people who is the same ‘bad’ as you but not someone who you want to impress. But the one you want to impress will interpret that he/she is not good enough/ trustworthy enough to know about your ugliness.

Btw i noticed that we focus more on the fact that Pocket really loves Bucky, but not the opposite. So now im going to say it, Bucky really love Pocket too in a way we cant see but feel. He’s trying. He’s proving. They’re similar yet different. Right now, he’s learning to understand her more (I AM NOT DEFENDING HIM😂) But as Pookie always said, both of them have their own flaws. It what made them, realistic. You can love someone so much, even when the trust is broken, but it can be mend. With time. With patience. With enough love and certainty. It all depends on you (the person who is in that situation) to prove it, to act it out (speaking from experience).

OHHHH, and the lil kiss Bucky did😭🩷 AND HER snuggling into his chest!!

🫵🏻 YOU ARE SMITTEN. I NEED MORE!!!!! FEED ME MORE😭.

So now, safely I would say Pocket spiralling will gradually died down. She’ll have a clearer head. As mother Pookie said, later on our Pocket will taunt and rub it in Cunthage face. I need her to roast cuntsy to the point she’s crying mess and beg for Bucky to defend her but Bucky being the lil shit he is will stand behind Pocket and smirk, and ask Pocket to ROAST HER EVEN MORE.

Btw did I tell you that I’ve been fantasising Bucky and Cunthage showdown? Yeah I did, and again, I need Bucky to punch the shit out of her.

Man, I can’t wait for the revelation

And also, I miss sexy time between Pocket and Bucky😫🥹

Our sexy macho biting his lips nyum🤍

Anyways, as always I wuv you Pookie. I love you just like how Pocket loves Bucky. Its — thaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaatttttttttt — much. Surprise me more with your mind.🩷🩷🩷

PS// I RAN OUT OF CAT SMOOCHY GIFS RAGHHHH

POOKIE <3

Our Bucky has returned stronger than before! He's still working on things, but he's already doing heaps better!

He's accepted the consequences-- he knows she has no business forgiving him, and he'll take it, which I felt was a really big step for him. He's no longer promising "I'll do whatever I can to fix it." It's now "I fucked up. I get there is no fixing it. I accept whatever you decide, and I'll live with your decision, because I respect you." NGL, parts 3 & 4 made me tear up, too. You are not alone.

I *really* tried to sell the 'Pocket was poisoned' lie because people clued into her being pregnant so quickly, lol. I tried to mislead you all! And no, if Cunthage hadn't happened, she'd be so fucking happy to be having his baby, let's be real. They'd be getting married and Tony would pretend to be so annoyed by it all, but secretly, he'd be over the moon to become an uncle and would throw her the most extravagant, lavish wedding the world's ever seen. And Pocket would fucking love that baby, because it was hers and Bucky's, and they'd be doing it together.

She's tried so hard to get over him, to forget about him, but despite everything he put her through, she just can't. She's kind of starting to realize now that maybe it's fruitless to try. So, finding out he's there, that she was pregnant, but suddenly she's not, all at once-- that's a lot. She shut down in the moment, and just got nasty because she didn't know what else to do.

You know, Bucky was actually not happy when she told him about not being able to forget him, no matter how many guys she's slept with. It hurt him to know how much he hurt her, that she felt that was something she needed to do to cleanse herself of him. He's remorseful. A tiny part of him might be hopeful-- if she can't get him out of her system, maybe there's a chance for them yet, but he isn't putting a lot of stock into that right now. He's just miserable that she's miserable.

When Bucky got that call from the SHIELD medical center, he damn near lost his shit. All he heard was that they found her in the safehouse, unconscious in a pool of blood. I don't even want to know what was going through his head. Something we don't see, because it's not a Bucky POV fic, lol, but he went to leave to be with her, but Steve tried to stop him from going, not thinking it was a good idea for him to just show up without warning Pocket, but Bucky was too scared and too worried about her being alone to listen, so while he's made some progress, there's still a tiny bit of selfishness there. Hey, he can't be fixed overnight, lol.

Bucky was so embarrassed about the erect-while-fighting thing. I mean, it was the last thing he wanted the girl he was in love with to know about him. Like, can you imagine that conversation? "So, yeah, doll, funny story-- every time I get really into a fight, where I want to fucking kill someone, I get a boner. Totally normal and not off-putting at all, right? lol" Like, it makes him look like Ted Bundy getting off on violence or something, if Bucky knew who Ted Bundy was (Side note: I like to imagine that Pocket, like me, is a True Crime freak and made Bucky consume every TC doc, podcast, movie, and book under the sun, lol).

(Off topic: Zefron as Bundy left me uncomfortable and confused, ngl)

Regardless, Bucky was ashamed and didn't want Pocket seeing that part of him. He didn't care if others did, because what they thought of him never mattered so much as what she thought of him. Also, I realized I had included him looking guilty after the sparring session and had to go back and come up with a reason why he might look guilty that didn't have anything to do with him actually having feelings for Cunthrage, lol.

It sucks to not have Bucky's POV happening (and that's something I'm rectifying in With Friends Like These...), because it's left so much of his motivations up to interpretation. I'm hopeful that everyone will see the subtle changes in him as we go forward. There will be more conversation between them in Chpt. 26, before shit hits the fan in 27, lol. 27 is off the rails, ngl.

It is safe to say that Pocket's spiral has been fully stopped. She's done hiding and running away. I mean, she kinda can't run away from Bucky anymore, cause he's right there now, but oh well, lol. She has to confront everything. And that includes Carthage, which I confess I had a lot of fun writing, because Pocket got to be a total bitch back to her. The showdown is coming!

I also miss sexy times between Pocket and Bucky, full disclosure :( That is why I have, no lie, at least eight different smut oneshot ideas planned for them after the story concludes. Idk, they are just so silly when they hook up, but also hot? Like, they have fun together, and I feel like it's never just sex, but always deeply connected time between two people who adore one another more than anything else on the planet.

You love me as much as Pocket loves Bucky?!?! Pookie! I love YOU as much as Pocket loves Bucky! <3 <3 <3

And since we ran out of kitten smoochies gifs, please accept this photo of my cat, Elliott, giving my dog, Theo, smoochies.

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mel-the-fangirl · 1 year

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The Witch & The Freak

Eddie Munson x Reader

Words: 5,132 (oh, boy...)

My first Eddie fic! I really could not help but stan this guy because, let's admit it, he's pretty adorable. I know we're well into November but I'm still feeling the Halloween vibes so this might get just a smidge creepy. It's long as hell, there's a little slice-of-life action, I just went with it but I hope you all enjoy!

Please like, reblog, or leave me a comment if you liked it!

------------------------------------

October 31, 1986

Somewhere in Salt Lake City, USA

Eddie Munson tightened his grip on the steering wheel, paying no mind as his knuckles turned white. His mind was obviously somewhere else, trying his hardest not to dwell on the fact that he was so totally lost. He had been driving on the same stretch of road for about half an hour now but not a single car had passed by him.

“Fuckin’ Henderson.” Eddie hissed, cursing his friend for getting him in this situation

Since when was he the babysitter anyway? Wasn’t that Harrington’s job? What was he doing wasting his Halloween playing chauffeur to Dustin Henderson when he could have been playing a killer Halloween setlist at the Hideout. He told Steve just as much but when he heard that Dustin didn’t have a ride back to Hawkins since his car was in the shop, Eddie was pretty much out the door without a second thought.

He was all huffy and puffy about it, sure. But if he was being honest, he just really needed a distraction from this weird feeling he was having that something was about to happen. He had no idea if it was something bad like a zombie ambushing him and eating his brains, or something good like finally getting off this damn road and back to civilisation.

Wherever this place was, it was giving him major heebie-jeebies. Probably because it was too goddamn quiet. Like the air was sucked out of the whole area.

“Radio!” he exclaimed, a light bulb finally going off in his head. He fumbled with the dials until the static finally turned into Steve Perry’s “Foolish Heart”

Eddie looked around with an eyebrow quirked up like he was expecting the gang to somehow pop up in the backseat. Once the coast was clear, he sang softly at first, bobbing his head along.

“I need a love that's strong, I'm so tired of being alone..”

As the song reached its peak, Eddie Munson, Eddie the Freak, Eddie the big bad guitarist of Corroded Coffin, belted out with all the passion he had,

“Foolish heart, hear me calling. Stop before you start falling!” he swayed side to side in time with the melody

What a sight to behold. A tried and true metalhead singing his little heart out to a mushy soft rock ballad. As far as everyone he knew was concerned, if it wasn’t metal, Eddie wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. But honestly? He loved all types of music, he was just sure if people knew “Candle in the Wind” made him tear up, all the mean and scary street cred he had would fly out the window.

The music began to fade out and so did the tension in Eddie’s shoulders. He rolled them out, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing to be afraid of, Munson.” he chuckled to himself, “You’ve been through worse than a quiet roadtrip, haven’t ya?”

Instinctively, his free hand wandered to his stomach, tracing the length of marred skin. A constant reminder that no girl would want to see him shirtless ever again.

Just like that, his mind replayed the events of the last few months. Dustin shattering his leg carrying his dead weight back to the portal in the Upside Down, nearly losing Max forever, his month-long stay at the hospital, his very public trial and acquittal not long after, finally graduating.

He never was able to give Principal Higgins that one finger salute, not to his face at least but he did flip him one behind his back, the whole crew hooting and cheering for him from the stands.

Getting wrapped up in all those memories, Eddie didn’t even notice that “Total Eclipse of the Heart” started playing. It was another one of his guilty pleasure power ballads, only to be listened to using headphones, with his door and window firmly closed.

Turn around,

Every now and then I get a little bit lonely

And you're never coming 'round

Turn around…

What?

Eddie eyed his stereo warily as the lyric repeated over and over, he kept his hand on one of the dials but no matter how much he turned it, the station never changed, Bonnie Tyler’s voice just kept getting lower and lower until it was almost demonic.

TURN AROUND!

The volume maxed out of nowhere. Static and feedback mixing together at varying pitches, Hell's choir harmonising. Every hair on Eddie’s body stood on end and his hands started to shake. The calm he had built within himself shattering into pieces.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon.” he tried his hardest through his trembling hands to turn off the damn thing but to no avail

He pushed his foot into the gas, speeding along the deserted road, hoping it was just a really fucked up signal patch.

The distance did manage to get rid of the demon choir on his stereo but the damn thing still wouldn't turn off. The static, the fucking static was making him lose his mind. The screeching sound filled the entirety of the van and was close to crawling into his head.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Be cool, Munson. Be fucking cool.” he breathed in and out steadily

Just as he was starting to have some semblance of calm, his engine started sputtering until gradually and agonisingly slowly, the van halted to a complete stop. Eddie could have sworn someone had it out for him. He got out of the van on shaky legs, his Reeboks crunching on the gravel as he lifted the hood of the van up.

A flashlight would've been handy. The streetlights did nothing to help him see any of the wiring. He couldn’t help but slam the hood down in frustration, the harsh sound echoing off into the night. Of course, something like this was happening to him. Noticing what was across the empty street only confirmed his beliefs that he was probably the unluckiest bastard to walk the earth.

A fucking cemetery of all the fucking places to be. At night. On Halloween. Smack dab in the middle of nowhere, USA.

“Just my fucking luck.” he exhaled, placing one hand flat on the slightly heated hood and the other on his chest, Eddie screwed his eyes shut and tipped his head forward, curly locks falling all around him

How did it get like this?

There he was, quietly making his way to his teenage friend who needed a ride home, a chivalrous act. Next thing he knows, he's a sitting duck right in the middle of the road. Easy prey for whoever wanted a piece of him. Of course, they'd have to go around the parts that haven't already been picked at.

He snorted at that.

Nothing like a bit of self-deprecating humour to get him up and running again. He raised his head and finally got his thoughts in order.

Obviously, the van was busted and he was stuck. That much was clear. According to his watch, it was thirty past one in the morning. He still had hours to go until dawn so he should probably get some rest. The rollercoaster of emotions he'd just been through was enough to drain whatever energy he had left.

"And so, it was decided," Eddie narrated in his Dungeon Master voice, climbing back in the van.

"Eddie the Banished would spend the night in his faithful but useless van, clutching in his grasp, the 2x4 he could never be bothered to throw away. Guess it came in handy in the end."

What was also handy were the blankets and pillows he stored in the back. He'd have to thank El for coming up with the idea after he took the gang out to a drive-in and literally everyone complained about how uncomfortable it was.

Oddly enough though? Eddie was comfortable. Having the van break down right across the street from a cemetery and that freaky thing with the stereo aside, being nestled in those blankets in the darkness of his van was actually kind of cozy. Hugging the 2x4 like a teddy bear, he drifted off to sleep, hoping he wouldn't have to use it.

…

A dull thud roused Eddie from his sleep. He shifted around in his blankets, nearly taking his eye out with the edge of the 2x4 he forgot he was cradling in his arms.

He groaned, cracking his knuckles above his head. He almost forgot where he was.

The realisation was like a cold bucket of water down his shirt. He let his guard down for God knows how long. What could be lurking out there? What if he was surrounded by enemies already? He shot up, crawling to the passenger’s side window. Eddie muttered his own version of a prayer under his breath and very cautiously took a look across the road.

Everything was pitch black beyond the rusty cemetery gates, save for a few lit candles. He could make out the flickering flames in the distance but other than that, not a fucking thing. Even the goddamn lamps perched on the gate didn’t seem to be working.

Eddie craned his neck to get a view farther along the moss covered stone wall that bordered the property. Nothing but rustling bushes and darkness.

Wait.

Rustling… Bushes?

Thankfully, his eyes were starting to adjust. He kept his gaze glued to one spot, hoping to catch whatever critter was in those bushes. Suddenly, a flashlight poked through the leaves. It circled the ground until it abruptly shone in the direction of the van. Eddie dove out of sight, immediately regretting the move. He was sure his cover was blown.

Army crawling back under his blankets, Eddie tried his best to peep out of the van's rear windows this time. The light in the bushes was gone and there wasn't anyone in sight.

He sighed in relief. Safe for now but his mind was running wild with theories of who could be in the bushes

A squatter, maybe?

Someone trying to set up camp for the night?

This wasn't exactly a camper's hot spot but who knows, right? Nine times out of ten, Eddie's morbid curiosity led him to places he couldn't even imagine.

Out of the quiet, he heard it. A little muffled from his spot inside the van but it was there all the same.

"GOD DAMN IT!" the voice from outside yelled

Eddie froze, brown eyes bigger than even thought possible.

Not much had changed outside. The light was still gone, the bush was still moving. No other cars had passed by. Though that little expletive was confirmation that there was a person in the bushes.

What he was going to do with that information was still up for debate.

He could just leave it alone… Really though, what good was it going to get him if he left the safety of his van?

But then again, what if they needed help? No one in their right mind would be poking around cemetery bushes if they weren’t in some form of distress. If there was something that Eddie learned from what he went through, it was never to run away.

He was still fucking scared though, don’t get him wrong. But he wasn’t going anywhere.

With a deep exhale, he stepped out of the van, trusty 2x4 in hand.

His pulse thumped uncomfortably in his ears, like at any time his eardrums would burst. Every step he took to close the distance between him and the cemetery gate, he felt like he was being watched by unseen eyes.

“Christ.” he muttered, trying not to look straight at the candle-speckled darkness that lay ahead

His footsteps went unheard as his mystery lurker continued to… Well, lurk in the bushes, moving to and fro along a particular stretch of grass.

“Uh, hello? Do you need any help?” his voice wavered ever so slightly at the end of his sentence

The rustling stopped. For Eddie, it seemed like everything stopped in those few seconds where he thought he was going to die for real this time.

That was until, you finally poked your head out.

Then everything stopped for Eddie a second time.

You had to be a ghost or something right? Because there was no way. NO WAY. Anyone alive could look as ethereal and unreal as you. Sure, there were leaves stuck in your hair and dirt streaked on your cheek but to Eddie that just made you look even more heart-stopping.

“Uh,” you cleared your throat, rising to your feet and dusting yourself off as best you could

Taking stock of your sudden companion, you mentally checked off a list.

Long shaggy hair, check. The devil on his shirt, check. And finally, big brown eyes, check. Though your powers of divination were improving, they still didn't work well enough to find the damn crystal you dropped.

“Hi, um. I’m sure this looks a little strange,” you gestured to the bushes you’ve been searching through for the past fifteen minutes or so.

“But I, well I dropped something around here and I’m having a real tough time finding it as you can see.” you chuckled breathily, patting at your jeans, knees covered in grass stains

“Oh, uh,” Eddie stepped towards you, feeling a weird sort of gravitational pull. “When’d you lose it? The caretakers might’ve done away with it, y’know.”

“That’s not it.” you waved your hand dismissively, returning your gaze to the grass beneath your sneakered feet. “I lost it just now when I fell off that damn gate.”

Something was totally off, Eddie could feel it. For starters, he kept involuntarily walking towards you, completely disregarding the bush right in front of him. He couldn’t even see his Reeboks underneath the leaves anymore. Second, his eyes were practically glued to the ground. Every time he'd try to raise his head, it was like there was a hand pushing it back down again, forcing him to search for something but he had no idea what.

“Just uh,” he walked along the line of bushes just as you did, squinting at the ground. “Just now, huh? What’re you even doing here at this time? It’s uh, it isn’t safe.”

He crouched down and began poking at the bushes with his 2x4. The intent look on his face made you giggle, he was an easy one to influence.

“While I appreciate the concern, I can take care of myself just fine, thank you. Now, be a doll and look over there..”

Like a little marionette, Eddie made his way over to the bush you were pointing at. He couldn’t even stop to question why the hell he was just blindly following your orders, his brain was covered in a thick fog. His one-track mind concerned only with finding what you had lost.

“It would be really helpful if I knew what I was looking for.” he whispered to himself.

Before he could even blink, you were only two steps away from him. How the hell did you do that?

"You'll know it when you see it." you said, watching him closely

The close proximity was making Eddie's head spin, if he was being honest. The scent of warm cinnamon sugar mixed with the dewy grass you fell in wafted off you and invaded his senses. Not even the pricier stuff in his stash could make him feel this way.

This had to stop. Somehow his hijacked brain connected the dots, whatever effect you had on him would only stop if he found what you were looking for. He took the flashlight from your hand and got on his knees.

"That's a bit much, isn't it?" you remarked, tilting your head to see how he was doing

"You're.. You're doing something to me." Eddie struggled to get the words out. His lips were barely moving, like they’d been glued together and it was just starting to dry

"Huh. Intuitive." you thought. Perhaps shutting him up was a bit much but you were exhausted and really wanted to get home.

As he swung the flashlight to search somewhere else, a glint partially obscured by a fallen leaf caught Eddie's eye. He bent down and flicked the leaf out of the way, revealing a shiny, palm sized pink stone of some sort. As he picked it up, it felt warm to the touch.

“Rose quartz.” you filled him in, closing your hand over his

Of course Eddie had no fucking idea what that was but you had his full attention, you were only about a hair’s breadth away from each other now.

“Eddie Munson.” you smiled slowly, noticing how your heart was beating a little too fast

At the mention of his name, he could feel the haze that had settled in his mind starting to lift. He nodded, still not able to produce any words with your hand still in his. You weren’t sure if he could feel it, but the rose quartz began to vibrate under your entwined hands.

What that meant, you weren’t entirely sure.

In one fluid movement, you managed to take your crystal out of his hand and step away.

You cleared your throat and dropped your crystal into your bag with the others, "The love crystal."

“What?” Eddie’s lips were finally functioning again but he felt out of breath

“The one you picked up. It’s also called the love crystal.” you clarified, kicking at some pebbles with the tip of your shoe

“Crystal…” he shook his head, looking at you apprehensively. “What the hell did you just do to me back there? Are you some kind of witch or something?"

"If I’m being totally honest, I find that term offensive and I don’t like being called that. It’s so goddamn archaic…"

"Wait, hold on-"

"...I mean, what is this? The 17th century? You gonna report me to the Witchmaster General too?"

"SHUT UP!" Eddie yelled, his voice echoing all throughout the empty street

His sudden outburst caused you to let go of your bag of crystals, the lot of them clattering to the ground. You tsk-ed in annoyance before dropping to your knees to round them all up again.

"Was just trying to make conversation. Didn't have to fucking yell at me." you muttered, occasionally shooting nasty looks at him

He joined you on the ground, hurriedly picking up your crystals. "Shit, um. Look, I'm sorry. I just.. Well, how the hell do I even put this. You're-You're a witch? Like an actual real life witch? Is that how you knew my name?"

"No, you idiot. I watched your trial a few months back. I bet everyone in America knows your fucking name.”

“Oh.”

“But I am a witch.”

“Oh.”

The thing about him is his wit was always quicker than his common sense. The quip was already tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t like being called a witch?”

“I don’t.” you almost growled at him

Oh, man, if looks could kill… There would definitely be a grave at that cemetery with Eddie’s name right on it but his brain-to-mouth filter wasn’t going to start working just because of that.

“Alright, alright.” he put his hands up in mock defence, “You got a name or should I just call you Sabrina?”

The silence stretched long between you, both of you sizing the other up. Then, much to Eddie’s relief, you burst out in laughter. He wasn’t exactly sure what that meant for him but the sound made him smile anyway.

“Oh, you’re funny,” you held out a small bag towards him, “Drop my stuff in here please.”

“Not gonna lie, I was a hundred percent expecting you to sock me in the jaw.” he chuckled, doing as he was told. The sound of the crystals knocking together was kind of soothing for him.

“I really wanted to.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t.”

“I’m glad too.”

You two stood there for a beat, saying nothing, just awkward half-smiles and heads filled with scrambled thoughts. Most of them consisted of wondering how someone could be this pretty.

“That must be some name if you’re gonna keep me waiting this long.” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, a playful twinkle in his brown eyes

Heat rose to your cheeks in an instant. “It’s Y/N. You can call me Y/N.”

Call it sleep deprivation or being under the light of the moon too much but the sound of your name automatically plastered a smile onto his face. God, if the kids could see him now acting all cheesy. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Well, I guess I don’t need to tell you my name.”

“Nope.” you shook your head

Warmth flooded your body as you kept your gaze on his smiling brown eyes. Oh, he was cute.

“Sooo,” he began, swaying while placing his hands behind his back

You in turn, crossed your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow, the move made him want you to step on him. He didn’t even care that you only knew his name because of all the murders it was associated with.

“Sooo?”

He scoffed, throwing his arms up, “Come on! You’re really not going to tell me what you were doing? In the bushes? At this time of night?”

The rise in his pitch was definitely starting to sound like a whine, a small smirk played on your lips.

"I thought you got the gist already." you teased, gently shaking your bag of crystals

Would you believe that he actually pouted? You were struggling to keep your eyes off his plump pink lips.

“Well, would you be kind enough to enlighten me?” he whined some more, completely melting away your defences

“Since you asked so nicely,” you smiled, reaching into your little bag

The first crystal you held up to the moonlight was the exact one you'd hoped for, Tiger's Eye. It glowed in different shades of brown. Almost the exact same shade as Eddie's eyes. You made eye contact with him and winked which made him blush in return.

"It’s nothing complicated," you began, "People use crystals for a lot of different things so just like a human would, they get worn out."

"So, the moonlight.. Recharges them or something?" Eddie ventured a guess

"Exactly! Very good, Eddie. We might make a warlock of you yet."

Ah, praise. A surefire way to get on his good side. Not that you weren't already.

"And the cemetery?" he asked, already wondering if ghosts had something to do with it. Could you see ghosts too? Would you be offended if he asked?

“I was coming from a party. I cut through the cemetery and figured I’d do a cleansing since the moon was full.” you shrugged nonchalantly

The simplicity of it all made Eddie laugh out loud, soon enough you found yourself laughing along too.

“Maybe I should have said something cooler, like oh the spirits of the dead fuel the crystals with more energy.”

He wiped at his eyes, feeling his cheeks hurt from smiling too much. “No, no. I, uh, I appreciate your honesty.”

“And you?” you nodded to his van across the street, “Camping?”

“Ah, something like that, madame,” he replied in a mock posh accent, “I’m afraid my faithful steed has let me down tonight.”

You looked at the van pensively while Eddie admired the slopes and angles of your face like a dorky schoolkid looking at his first crush.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Huh?” he blushed hard, hoping you didn’t notice him drooling all over you. “Oh, uh, yeah. You know about cars? Or is there like, a crystal for car trouble?”

It was a completely innocent question, his tone filled with curiosity. Absolutely nothing like the other mocking questions and judgmental looks you usually got when people found out your beliefs. You couldn’t help but walk a little closer to Eddie’s side as you made your way over to the van.

“Not car trouble, but there is one to ward off car accidents and stuff like that.” you answered, lifting up the hood and producing a mini flashlight from your back pocket

Eddie tried, like he really tried not to be a creep but you were just so goddamn pretty. The shadows that continually moved across your face as you moved your flashlight across the engine reminded him of this nightlight he had that spun around, sending stars all over his dark room. But tonight instead of stars, he had you and he preferred that more.

“Eddie, could you try starting it up, please?” your brows knitted together as you shut the hood

He could’ve lassoed the damn moon if you asked.

To his surprise, the van roared to life with the radio blasting the chorus of “I Wanna Know What Love Is” deep into the night. Eddie scrambled to get it under control while you doubled over in laughter.

“I didn’t peg you as the power ballad type, Eddie.” you walked over to the driver’s side and perched your arms on the lowered window

“Well, I didn’t peg you as the mechanic type, Y/N.” he countered, cheeks burning but he still found it in himself to bring his face closer to yours

He could pinpoint the exact second your pupils dilated and Eddie figured it was as good a time as ever to finally do what he'd been thinking about all night since seeing you.

"Thank god for that fucking rose quartz." Eddie mumbled before softly pressing his lips to yours

It was almost as if your lips were covered in a million tiny live wires, sending your entire body alight with sensation. The air was positively snap-crackle-and popping all around you, all that was missing were the actual sparks.

Eddie pulled away for a second to jump out of the van and take you in his arms, he smelled of leather, soap, and a hint of smoke. It was almost second nature to you, wrapping your arms around his waist and letting him kiss you once again.

Despite your disdain for the term, you were a witch. That much was true. You had abilities, you studied, and you practised. But this right here, kissing Eddie. That was a whole other sort of magic all together.

Once you found it in yourselves to pull away, breathing hard and smiling like fools, you hopped in the van.

“What did you do to get her running again?” Eddie asked, making sure you fastened your seatbelt

“Nothing. There wasn’t even anything wrong.”

He decided to leave it at that. Eddie just pecked you on the cheek before pulling back into the road with you guiding him on the right track to the Bingham House which surprisingly, you didn't live far from.

As the sky changed from midnight blue to a purple-dusted orange, you and Eddie watched and talked as the sun began to peek just over the horizon. He told you about his life in Hawkins and about what really happened, the whole demobats took a pound of flesh from him truth, not the censored bullcrap the authorities told him to stick with. He didn't doubt it when you said you believed him.

You told him all about your abilities, about all the people who just didn't understand, how you really did make him do your bidding back there and how you foresaw that he'd be coming for you. It all flowed out, the easiest conversation either of you had in your lives.

"Quite a pair we are, huh?" he nudged you affectionately, an easy smile on his face

You nodded, reaching over to lace your fingers through his, "The witch and the freak."

"The witch and the freak." he agreed, bring your hand to his lips

…

"So, just take the next left then straight on till morning, Eddie." you kissed him one last time before hopping out of the van

"Aw, c'mon, Y/N." he whined and pouted

Him whining and pouting was quickly becoming one of your weaknesses.

"It's just one more block, why won't you come with me? Had enough of me already?"

"Because, Eddie! My mom's going to kill me if she catches me sneaking in. Don't worry, we'll be seeing each other again soon."

Eddie knew the finality in your voice wasn't for nothing, you've probably already seen how this was going to go but still, he loved pushing your buttons.

He scooted to the passenger's seat, "And how are you so sure about that, hm?" he puckered his lips at you

With a chuckle, you planted a big 'ol smooch on his waiting lips. Already visualising what the next time you'd see each other would be like.

"Because I'm sure! Now go! The Binghams usually serve a feast for breakfast. I hope you like kids!" you waved him off, already knowing that you didn't need to consult your cards to see if you were right or not.

You blew him a kiss which he playfully stuffed in the pocket of his jean jacket before slipping quietly into your house.

"Oh, what a night," Eddie shamelessly sang along to Frankie Valli, shimmying his hips as much as he could while seated

"What a lady, what a nigh-Oh shit!" he slammed his foot on the brakes, tires squealing against the pavement

He forgot to ask for your phone number.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" Eddie hissed, bonking his head on the wheel

Just as he was about to turn back around, he noticed something on the passenger's seat that definitely wasn't there five seconds ago.

A crystal that Eddie recognised was the colour of your eyes and a note.

"When did she have the time to write this?" he wondered

It seemed like you already knew he was going to think that.

"I'm a witch, remember?" the note began, making Eddie shake his head in awe

You're under strict rules to keep this crystal with you at all times, Eddie. It will protect you and hopefully make you think of me. We will be seeing each other again very soon.

Love, Y/N.

You also had the foresight to scrawl your number on the back along with,

Can't believe you forgot to ask!! >:(

Which made Eddie Munson giggle. Thank God no one was around to witness it or else he'd never live it down.

Having everything he needed, Eddie started up the radio again and went on his way to the Bingham's.

Those fingers in my hair

That sly come-hither stare

That strips my conscience bare

It's witchcraft.

"You got that right, Frank," Eddie placed a kiss on the crystal you left him, "You got that right."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things

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legobiwan · 1 year

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Tales of the Jedi 1:3 "Choices"

I'M FLIPPING OUT HERE

Just...my gods, there is a lot in this episode

Okay, okay - first of all, I do love Mace and Dooku's interactions here. Mace obviously respects, although doesn't always agree, with Dooku. But! Despite registering his protest to Dooku's so-called "interference," he also doesn't prevent Dooku from carrying out that investigation. The whole breakdown really happens when Mace inadvertently kills that one guard in self defence (I guess you could read it, from Mace's point of view, that this is what happens when the Jedi veer from their directives, from their rules. Innocent lives are lost and I don't think that death rested easy on Mace's conscience. And you could imagine him doubling down on the rules after that incident and inheriting Katri's seat due to the events just prior to that incident. Not to say that this is the entire reason Mace is rule-bound - it's certainly not - but it probably caused him to dig in a little more, especially during his initial tenure as a Council Member.)

ANYWAY, getting back to Dooku.

I thought this line was hilarious and my gods, is this man the teacher of Rael Averross and Qui-gon Jinn, or WHAT?

Can you imagine him saying the EXACT SAME THING to a young Obi-wan? BECAUSE I SURE AS HELL CAN!!!!!!!!!

The line about not getting involved in local political skirmishes without approval from the Council or Senate is fascinating. Just much autonomy do the Jedi have out there? You know Dooku disagrees with this philosophy and thinks the Jedi could do more but being an arm of the Senate - which they absolutely are at this point, involvement in "local politics" could upset the status quo, for both good and ill. Obviously, the death of Katri was something the corrupt Senator did not want investigated and he assumed it wouldn't be as it's probably well-known the Jedi cannot interfere as their own political arm...a philosophy that has two sides in that no, you can't save everyone but at the same time, at what point do you end up being the "lapdogs and enforcers" of the corrupt, rich and powerful?

Alright, I have to spend a moment talking about Dooku: Space Detective because this is 100% a precursor to Obi-wan Kenobi: Space Detective. The way they investigate their physical environments! Ask logical questions! LOOK AT THIS!

This is all to say we need an AU of Dooku and Obi-wan quitting the order to open up a Space Detective Agency because COULD. YOU. IMAGINE??? (And to make one more point, the opening of this episode reminded me a lot of the opening of the Utapau arc. Retrieving a dead Jedi body, a mysterious murder, etc.)

THAT MAKASHI THOUGH LOOK AT THIS MAN GO! THE BEHIND THE BACK DEFLECTION, THE THE RESET TO THE MAAKSHI SALUTE, BEST SABER FORM EVER HE TOTALLY SHOULD HAVE TAUGHT OBI-WAN TO MAKASHI

And also - the absolute control, strength, and focus it must take to do all this ONE-HANDED. With limited acrobatics. (Unlike Mace). INCREDIBLE.

One of the interesting facets of Dooku I feel isn't talked about enough is the fact that he comes from this patrician background. Is Serennian royalty. AND YET, his largest concern is the way in which the Order, to his mind, is abandoning planets and beings to serve the interests of the rich and powerful. Is it because he was forsaken by Serenno, by his family? (Which works both in the EU and Canon backstories). And then he returns to Serenno to claim that title and become one of the rich and the powerful (and yes, to a certain degree, corrupt). It's really a fascinating arc and one I'd like to tease out a little further to really get at all possible implications and motivations.

I also found the statement he made to the Raxxian prisoner that his people shouldn't "evolve" to be a precise and odd choice of wording. Dooku is a man of precision who wields his words as well as his lightsaber. "Evolve" is such an interesting term to use. Is this meant to contrast with the Jedi and the Senate, who have "evolved" so much as to consider themselves above what they came from, to have forgotten their roots and their peoples? That the Jedi are too concerned with philosophicals and not enough with practicals in the way they have "evolved" in the Temple? Their heads being too far up in the clouds, along with the Temple Spire, as it were?

Okay, I have to say, the funeral scene with Ki-Adi was a little funny, only because the minute I saw his comically elongated hood, this immediately popped into my deranged mind:

(Admittedly, I had been thinking of this meme this morning as a way to introduce enharmonic respellings for chromatic modulation in the class I teach. And this is where it all lands me. Ha!)

ANYWAY.

There are a lot of implications in Dooku's question to Mace regarding the timing of his knowledge of his new Council appointment. Is Dooku insinuating Mace was somehow in cahoots with the Senator? No, that would be ridiculous. But what, then? That Mace didn't want to interfere for fear of losing his new seat, or losing face with the Council. More likely.

And there's this line, which ages TERRIBLY in light of everything that happens in TCW.

And I know Filoni's going hard on the Council in this episode, but there is a point to be made - less about the corruption of the Council, but rather its stasis and its inflexibility in the light of a failing pangalactic government. (Even before anything with Palpatine or the War came to fruition). The Council is 1000% guided by politics - they would be independent of the Senate if they weren't. And ego - maybe not Mace, as much, but certainly Yoda (forget the whole Dark Side thing, I'm just thinking of sending Obi-wan alone after Maul when re-emerges due to whisperings from "the Force." If Yoda had actually listened to Mace and sent a task force, how different would things have turned out? At least in that situation).

Okay last point. When Dooku is doing his whole pensive reflection bit at the end of the episode in the Temple, we see these diamond-ish shaped obelisks as part of the Temple decor. It did not escape my attention that Dooku has similarly shaped obelisks on the grounds of his Serenno estate, specifically the area where he trains Savage. I DON'T THINK THAT IS A COINCIDENCE.

Anyway, so far, this series is doing a great job of painting Dooku and his fall as highly nuanced and is actually making valid criticisms of the Jedi - things that definitely helped lead to Palpatine's rise and the outcome of the war. I also like that this version of Dooku seems to be a little closer to his Dark Rendezvous iteration (which is my absolute favorite backstory and a favorite portrayal of older!Dooku. Although Jedi Lost and M&A do a first-rate job showing teacher!Dooku to Rael and Qui-gon).

I think the next episode is the one where Qui-gon is going to show up again and I'm going to lose it when that happens. I also really need to go to sleep so I can wake up for a flight in like, *checks watch and laughs nervously* 4ish hours. Oof.

Anyway, 10/10 LOVE

#hello there #totj #count dooku #mace windu #that...uh...I haven't gone on a star wars rant in a while #SOLID EPISODE #it's good to come back to my roots #DOOKU GAAAAAAAAHHH

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harrison-abbott · 3 months

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One of my old mates invited me out for a pint or two for my birthday; and I invited out this other chap who I didn’t know so well – but I’d had drinks with him before and he seemed like a cool guy.

So the old mate was Josh and the new guy was called Lewis. We all met up in the bar and I introduced them and then we sat down with a drink each. And we started talking about academia; because all of us had been to university. Lewis was quite an accomplished academic: in fact, he was studying a PhD at this point. We were just telling stories about our studies, and tutors who we’d found charismatic or a bit egotistical, or brilliant, and so on … and I thought that the chat was going well.

And then as soon as Lewis finished his drink, he shot up from his seat and said, “I’m very sorry,” and he shook my hand and then Josh’s hand, and just walked out of the bar without another word, and we didn’t see him again.

I called to him “See you later,” reproachfully as he left and he didn’t turn and only zoomed out.

Josh just kinda blinked and he didn’t say anything either. So he and I finished our drinks together, and then Josh suggested that we go back to his place and endeavour with beers there, since it would be cheaper. So that’s what we did, and we walked through the park and I was cheering up a bit.

In his flat we played videogames. Footie videogame; and Josh and I had a long rivalry from our high school days, and, again, I was feeling a bit better about earlier.

And then all of Josh’s flatmates and their friends (who I knew as well) turned up, came home. And they came into the living room and saw me and said, “Hey, happy birthday!” and all of that. So they knew that it was my birthday and they hadn’t come along to the bar earlier; they were out drinking some place else, and it was only by chance that they saw me that they offered the salutations. And they were all fun and young, and some of the girls were quite pretty.

This is why I’ve always hated birthdays. They just remind you how unpopular you are. Even if Josh meant well in inviting me out for a drink. I still don’t understand why Lewis left like that: his exit was fairly slapstick.

I saw him – Lewis – maybe eighteen months after that. I’d invited him to an open mic poetry night, a spoken word night, that I was co-hosting. And he came up to where I was sitting and we shook hands and he said, “Can I sit here?” Y’know, as if nothing had happened the last time that I was with him. And so I said yeah. And he performed some of his poetry which was pretty good. And then I got up and I read out these facts, to the audience, about the history of Europe, which was meant to be in reference to Brexit, which was just about to happen.

I often feel real life stories can be even more blunt than fiction. And some moments are hurtful as Hell. But, hey: they sure give you material to write about.

And, anyway – I barely give a toss about birthdays these days. That was my 26th birthday and I’m 31 now. All I did the last few birthdays was hang out in my room and read books. That’s what I enjoy doing so why not. Ha.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #stories #tumblr writers #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #real life stories

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anika-ann · 2 years

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His Lucky Charm: Apple Pie Life

Type: one-shot to (mini)series or a standalone

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 5000

Summary: The first time you talked to Steve Rogers, he earned himself an apple pie. Now, several dates in, he earned himself a lesson in making one.

And maybe some cuddles and kisses in between.

Warnings: mention of a death of a parent, brief allusions to smut, terrible puns, language and sugar-overdose with pie (and fluff)

A/N: Can be read as a fluffy standalone, I suppose. Timeline-wise it’s set after chapter one, BUT it contains HUGE spoilers for other chapters since it’s from reader’s POV. Seriously. If you read this before chapter two/three, it will spoil the hell outta this series and I think you’ll lose part of the experience.

A/N: Following a His Lucky Charm challenge, three of you earned themselves the right for a drabble request. Right. A drabble. This one is for @annathesillyfriend and her request simply reading apple pies.

Story masterlist

The giddy feeling a single ring of a doorbell awoke in you might seem ridiculous to some, but here you were, catching yourself smiling wide when you heard it.

If that feeling wasn’t followed by a brief worry, it would be perfect; but you weren’t complaining. In fact, you welcomed it, because it made this date – your seventh now – much more palpable. As you let Steve up, waiting by the door for him, you checked your outfit of a little too simple long-sleeve and leggings and tried to mentally prepare yourself for the sight to come.

This was the shortest Steve ever had between a mission and a date with you, only having arrived from an impromptu two-day mission in an undisclosed location three hours ago. When you had found out about the mission almost colliding with your date plans, you offered to cancel without hesitation, despite being as excited about the date night. You didn’t want Steve to push himself through exhaustion and perhaps some pretty strange mind-space, but he insisted he’d actually welcome it.

You made him swear that if his opinion changed, he would call it off even if it was five minutes prior, no matter that you had changed your schedule at the café already. You promised you wouldn’t be mad at him (but didn’t admit you’d be sad.)

Steve called off nothing.

So here you were on a Friday night, face to face with a gorgeous man with a band-aid on his left cheek and a dim shadow of a bruise under his eye, smiling at you sheepishly, but holding out a plastic bag with almost twenty Granny Smiths with undeniable enthusiasm.

He seemed a little smaller than usual, as if the mission weighted on his shoulders still – no matter how much of those shoulders there was, almost entirely filling your doorway – hair ruffled as ever, but it was obvious he put care into looking as normal as possible. And even though your heart ached at his still visible injuries, you felt it skip a happy beat at seeing him. More so in a wonderfully tight dark jeans and light-blue button-up peeking from under his leather jacket.

“Hey beautiful.”

“Hey handsome,” you greeted him back, dropping a kiss to his unharmed cheek, only now noticing that his other hand purposefully reminded behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you ushered him in, peeking behind him when taking the apples – only to spy a tub of vanilla ice-cream. Of course. “Fair enough. I’ll allow it.”

Steve chuckled at your antics, saluting you since you were the master baker here, toeing off his shoes and losing his jacket as you made your way to the kitchen. You weren’t sure how you were both going to fit in the very limited space, but if you had to be rubbing on the large shoulders of his the whole evening? You were not about to complain.

He patted behind you wordlessly, sneaking towards the freezer to put away his little surprise as you laid the apples on the counter. Just as you turned to face him, he took a large stride towards you, resulting in you barely catching yourself against his chest before you could walk straight into him. His hands steadied you confidently, landing on your hips.

“I didn’t get to say hi properly,” he muttered, already bowing his head, weary smile playing in the corners of his lips.

The infamous butterflies erupted in your stomach, your momentary hesitation to reply leading to you not getting an opportunity to speak up at all. Steve’s lips pressed to yours, hand cradling the back of your head gingerly, your left hand sliding to his nape to toy with his short hair. With a content hum and a parting of his lips, his other arm locked firmly around your waist; you found yourself leaning into it gratefully, slightly lightheaded as Steve lovingly stole all air from your lungs bit by bit.

He retreated with a few more pecks, his breathing barely affected unlike yours; but you were now both smiling widely, happy in your bubble.

“…hi,” you whispered, blinking up at him – dazed, much to his apparent satisfaction.

“Hi.”

“That’s one hell of a greeting,” you noted, licking your lips to savour the tickly sensation his kiss gave you. There was the lightest feel of a two-day stubble still echoing on your skin and you were certainly not complaining.

“Well, I missed you helluva lot,” he mimicked, brushing the pad of his thumb over your cheek, reminding you of the damage to his own. It must have shown in your expression, because he shook his head and pecked your lips again. “It’s healing as we speak. I’m fine. Ready to bake the best damn pie in New York City.”

At that, your eyebrow jumped, teasing.

“Oh? Those are big words, Steve. You sure about that?”

“I’ll have a lot of help from the greatest baker I know, I hope,” he hummed, not so subtly complimenting you, making you feel shy and proud at once. If there was something you did feel rather confident and at home in, it was your baking skills.

With a content sigh, you wrapped your arms around Steve’s torso, curling in his embrace as you rested your cheek against his chest, simply enjoying the feeling of his body against yours – and the exquisite feeling of safety his arms offered so willingly.

You weren’t the only one revelling in it, however – Steve’s arms squeezed you a little tighter, nose tucked into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo; it didn’t escape your attention how some of the tension you failed to notice before melted away from his body. Your thumbs started drawing calming circles on his back on instinct and Steve didn’t protest, relaxing further, making you smile into his shirt.

“I guess that can be arranged.”

It wasn’t until you let go and started preparing the ingredients when it occurred to you that for all Steve’s effort and your seemingly lacking effort in choosing an outfit, it wasn’t that you were underdressed.

It was the other way around: Steve was overdressed.

Not because this was a date, but because you were supposed to be baking. And yes, flour sprinkles would be less visible on a light shirt than on a dark one, but still – it was a shirt. And while you didn’t think Steve was splashing out money where he could, it was an undeniably quality shirt, even if his large frame could use one a size bigger; not that you were going to tell him that and miss the view of how the seams fought for their lives on Steve’s biceps.

“Not to complain, but… aren’t you dressed a little fancy for a baking session?” you asked carefully, using the opportunity to give Steve a meaningful and thorough onceover. He looked so good.

Steve just shrugged, side-eyeing you, clearly unbothered. He reached for his sleeves and unbuttoned each, rolling them almost up to his elbows, as much as the fabric allowed.

You’d be lying if you didn’t admit to yourself that for the several seconds that the task took him, your brain switched off. And judging by the wannabe innocent smile to Steve’s lips – the picture of innocence completely ruined by the self-satisfied look in his eye – Steve knew exactly what he was doing.

“Figured I’d just do this.”

Who knew Steve Rogers was such a menace?

You. You did. You knew it since he kissed you the first time without holding back; you kept finding out with whenever he threw in a dirty joke here and there and finally when he took you to bed… but he was still surprising you.

You kinda liked it. You liked it a lot, in fact.

Because for all the teasing, Steve’s eyes spoke of kindness. His menacing ways were still safe enough for you to get tangled in. You hoped.

“… that’s dirty pool, Steven.”

“I use what I’ve got. It works, no?” he offered, his smile turning boyish.

For me? Yes. For the task at hand? Not so much.

“For the baking? No. You could still get flour on your shirt and pants. That just won’t do… so either you can bake in your boxers only-“

Steve’s eyebrow rose incredulously and he just stared at you quietly for a moment as he always did when he managed to bring to life the playful part of you, normally hidden behind a shy exterior. It was something he managed to do ridiculously easily and you loved it – and then usually, as he did now, he proceeded to burst out laughing.

You chuckled with a shrug, feeling the pride of making him laugh like that filing you to the brim as you reached for the white apron hanging next to the fridge on its black ties, its front hidden from sight.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying. Here, you can have this.”

You handed it to him with a secretive smile, letting him inspect it on its own. It took him a second – and you could already see him biting his cheek so he wouldn’t laugh again. But there was a fond look in his eyes as he peered at you from over the top of it.

“What are you gonna wear if I rob you of this magnificent apron? Will you be baking in my boxers only?”

You grinned at his suggestion – and at his understanding that even if the apron might be a little ridiculous, it was very dear to you and you did find it magnificent. What else would you call a group of friends consisting of a carton of milk, a bag of flour and an egg, with a caption Let’s dough it! right under it?

“Nope, I can’t have you distracted, handsome. I’m dressed up for the occasion and have a full closet of things I can change into,” you explained easily, not missing the glint in his eye telling you that he would be distracted indeed. About as much as you were seeing him with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his strong forearms, the prominent vein like a magnet to your gaze.

“Fair. I can wear this. Thank you.” He pulled the apron over his head, not even a sound of complaint even if it barely covered what was necessary, nimble fingers tying a bowknot on his back. “Let’s do it.”

He faced you then, showing off his adorable attire – somehow looking absurdly hot and sweet at once, an irresistible combination – and you couldn’t help yourself. Hands setting on his shoulders, you pulled him down for a brief kiss.

“You mean let’s dough it, right?”

Steve chuckled and kissed your nose before shaking his head. “You’re lucky you’re so cute.”

“Now so are you.”

You knew that most people probably wouldn’t call Steve Rogers cute – with his absurdly broad shoulders, bare forearms and with jeans that fit him so perfectly that his ass literally called out for you to try and bounce a penny on it – but no one else saw him in a puny punny apron either.

Maybe it made you a little too possessive, but the fact you were the only one who got to see this? It filled you with pride and satisfaction; and with undiluted happiness.

If you got the privilege to make memories with him, what was a little secret sharing about baking pies in return? You had be much, much bigger secrets to share and the outcome could be considerably less pleasant.

You quickly chased away the dark thought, fixing a smile for him that soon grew genuine.

“Let’s get to work.”

You had enough ingredients to make two pies and due to the limited space, you opted for showing Steve how to make the dough first and only then letting him make his own. You even went as far as discarding the food processor for once, because simply throwing things into a bowl and let the modern technology do the work would be rather boring.

“Alright. Now we add the butter. I advise you to stick your always hot hands under the cold water for a bit, otherwise the butter will turn too sticky. It’s a little unusual for making a dough, but we don’t want-“

“-to knead the dough,” he finished, a hint of a smile playing in the corner of his lips, his eyes, having been laser-focused on what you were, doing turning a little distant.

Your hands froze in their movements, eyebrows drawing together. How did he know that?

“How did you know?” you queried, genuinely curious as you leaned your palms on the counter.

Pink dusted his cheeks as you watched him, a nervous chuckle spilling from his lips – almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak up. You narrowed your eyes playfully, scrutinizing him now, causing the tips of his ears to redden too.

“Steve… Am I being hustled now? Are you secretly an apple pie expert?”

He chuckled, some of the sheepishness leaving his face, replaced by a wistful smile.

“No. My ma used to make them in autumn when the apples were the cheapest, two or three on a good year. I couldn’t be out at that time of year anymore. So I helped whenever I wasn’t practically tied to a bed because of a cough.”

He shared the memory with unspeakable fondness; but you could tell he also carefully observed your reaction to him mentioning his poor health, looking for signs that you were bothered – either because of worry or (Merlin forbid) disgust. As if.

Obviously, you didn’t like the idea of Steve being sick; you’d lose your mind worried about him, but you saw this as more of an opportunity to admire him, because even when he saw still tiny, with weak body, his heart and soul were strong. You admired his and his mother’s resilience, for she pushed through and went out of her way to make their life a nice one despite their circumstance.

“Every time you mention you mum, she sounds more and more extraordinary,” you said, causing a full smile to break out on Steve’s face.

“She was. And until I met you, she was also the one who made the best damn pie in New York. I mean--- in a way it still is, there’s something about it I remember being just… I don’t know, I guess it’s just nostalgia.”

He shook his head dismissively, beckoning for you to continue.

You couldn’t move an inch however, feeling as if something unfinished hovered in the air. As your gaze bored into Steve’s, your mind raced a hundred miles a minute; still wasn’t enough to comprehend how strong a memory like that had to be for him – a memory of his late mother, a memory that to him was only few years old and belonged over seven decades back. Your throat went tight, but you hoped it didn’t bleed into your voice much.

“Well, I can see how something your mum put so much effort and love into made it pretty special.”

Of all smiles Steve graced you so far, the one you received in response must have been one of the softest ones; his eyes turned a little teary which you didn’t dare to comment on. For one, the sight stole your voice for a moment and for two… he had every right. And yet, you didn’t think it was sadness; only nostalgia, like he said.

“I guess so. It was different from yours, but at the same time… well. I’m just curious how you do it.”

This time, it felt like closing a chapter, gently bookmarking the page to open the book at any given time again. You allowed yourself to breathe in deeply, tasting the change in the air.

“It’s probably the sauce,” you noted casually, biting your cheek as not to laugh at Steve’s bewilderment.

“The sauce? We never made sauce.”

You bet they didn’t; many people didn’t, for many different reasons. But if you were going to teach Steve how to make your pie, you were going to do it properly.

“Uh-huh. It’s mostly just butter and sugar. It’s more expensive and definitely richer in calories, but it’s absolutely worth it. It’s also highly classified intel, so I trust you to keep my secret safe, mister,” you said, feigning gravity, motioning with your index finger.

“I am honoured to be worthy of it,” Steve exclaimed theatrically, hand over his heart. And yet, his eyes spoke of sincerity.

Good. It was a well-kept secret. Your colleague Lily would know.

“You should be. I only shower it to Lily after a few months of working at the bakery together. Until then, I only made it in secret. Do not mess around with my apple pie sauce.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.”

You didn’t comment at the endearment slipping off his tongue so effortlessly; and not for the first time. You weren’t sure he was even aware of doing it and if he wasn’t, you sure wouldn’t be the one to tell him.

Instead, you smiled to yourself and let the warm feeling wrap around your heart like the fluffiest blanket.

For a man who used to merely help out his mother with baking and only occasionally, Steve sure knew how to work the dough. He had it ready in no time, ending up with both of you rightfully proud of his creation. You placed his dough to the fridge right next to yours, setting a timer for a little less than an hour – so you wouldn’t pull it out too soon.

“Time for the apples and the sauce – a very very important part,” you emphasized. Steve nodded in acknowledgement, taking your instructions with almost comical gravity. “We have a little less than an hour, so we should be just fine-“

“An hour?” he wondered, eyes widening.

You made a small sound of affirmation; he pursed his lips, brows furrowing minutely.

“Sounds like a lot of time. I’m already craving something sweet,” he muttered, drawing a chuckle from you.

Steve and his sweet tooth… time and time again. Your very first impression of him – after you had worried about the broom possibly brushing over his shoes – was proven correct more than once and it always made you giddy, because… well. That worked just fine for you, didn’t it?

“Well, your sweet tooth is almost as bad as mine, so luckily for you, I think I’ll be able to find something to satisfy you until we’re done,” you hummed, amused, turning to the pantry only to have Steve’s hand land on your hip, using the hem of your top to spin you back to him. You startled a bit as you found yourself flush to his body, his face mere inches from yours, but – and you were proud of it – you didn’t let out a single noise of fright. “What?”

Steve observed you, eyes roaming your face as his right eyebrow lifted, his own expression as amused as yours was a moment ago. It appeared as if he was waiting for something and on instinct, you felt your lips parting, your body inching closer to his as his lips descended until they almost touched yours, moving in slowly, slowly…

“Oh,” you exclaimed as it suddenly dawned to you. Something sweet. He meant you. “Wow, that’s—that’s very cheesy.”

The silent ‘you love it’ was already spoken to your mouth, Steve’s lips meeting yours sweetly indeed, large frame backing you against the counter, one hand on your nape to dominate you gently, the other leaning onto the counter by your side to keep you in spot.

“Yes, yes I do,” you whispered when he gave you a chance to breathe in before kissing you again, not giving you the chance to say the words that crept into the back of your mind almost as often as Steve’s sweet tooth crept up on him.

I love you.

But he kissed you again and again, until you found a little flame of passion flare up in your belly and you had to stop before you blurted out things that needed to mature a little more inside you and--- and you were here for a reason.

Not that kissing Steve was an unpleasant distraction. More like the opposite.

“We need to make the filling.”

The corner of his lips twitched wildly against yours as his hips grinded into you, causing you to barely bite down a moan as you felt something else twitch minutely. He grinned against your mouth now, question marks gradually replacing the feel of Steve’s lips that had occupied your mind solely.

“What?” you muttered to his mouth, because damn it was difficult to string more words together when he pulled at your lower lip like that, filling your head with images of-- and it finally clicked.

Filling.

You gasped, tearing away your mouth despite his grumble of protest.

“Steve! I am scandalized!”

The filthy, filthy man that still had his hands on you snorted ungracefully, twinkle in his darkened eyes as he shrugged, entirely unapologetic.

“Look, you gave me the apron, you started with the puns-“

“But it was innocent ones!” you protested, an astonished laugh spilling from your lips. Wow. So filthy. Who knew…? You did. You knew ever since he had gone down on you as if you were his last meal few nights ago. Uhm. “Just… wow. So dirty.”

“Didn’t hear you complain before…” he quipped, causing your jaw to simply drop, no words coming out. He chuckled again, kissing your cheek in a conciliatory manner, skimming his lips lower to your jaw and neck, stubble prickly and tickly against the sensitive skin, making you squirm and squeal.

“Oh for Merlin’s beard—please, please! Stop, it tickles so much, Steeeve-“

He laughed against your neck, but relented, one last peck landing on your nose before he took a step back, hands up as if he was giving himself up.

“Fine. I do want to know your secret trick.”

“Uh-huh, right. Because you’re such an exemplary student” you hummed, earning a boyish smile that had a little more apology to it than before. Joke was on him – you’d let him get away with murder, let alone dirty puns and kisses. Happily. “Apple filling now. We can do other stuff later… I know I’d love to.”

“I’m onto peeling the apples right away now, ma’am.”

Despite your teasing, Steve was an exemplary student and you were proud to say that the pies turned out pretty great. Delicious even.

In fact, they were so good and Steve was so eager for them that you ended up having pie with ice-cream for dinner, which might have been an awful life choice, but you didn’t have a dinner so tasty in quite a while. Plus, Steve seemed to really appreciate the homey feel of it after the mission.

And for all the talk about other fillings, you both ended up yawning on the couch, you practically lying on top of Steve, limbs intertwined, the laziest of kisses exchanged every now and then, neither of your pushing – let alone rushing – to take things further.

It was a really cosy feelings; you didn’t care if someone would call you an old, thirty years married couple. These were your moments and the fact you were growing more and more comfortable with each other, enough to spend your time together like this? You wouldn’t change a thing.

“Will you stay the night?” you asked, sensing that sleep creeping up on you. You wish for nothing but moving this to bed and let the dreamland take you.

You didn’t dare to assume; yet, it surprised you how tense Steve’s body turned under yours, his Adam’s apple bobbing, sending your heart racing with unease. You weren’t sure why it bothered you so much that he clearly hesitated, he had every right.

“Oh, uhm… I’d love to,” he said, voice wavering. You could already hear the ‘but’ coming – and it did. “But I- uhm, I don’t usually sleep well the night after a mission and I don’t want to disturb you.”

Oh. That certainly softened the blow. The mission. It made sense, you supposed. But honestly, all you’d want had your mind been unsettled, would be a warm embrace. You knew it worked differently for everyone, but… you’d still love Steve to stay.

You propped up on your elbows, careful not to dig your elbows too hard into Steve’s chest as you looked into his eyes.

“You wouldn’t… I think. And you don’t have to tell me what exactly not sleeping well means, but I just- I’d like to help, you know? Maybe I could so something...?“

Steve gulped, averting your gaze, taking a shaky breath and you could smack yourself for being pushy. Even if you genuinely wanted to help and you honestly believe you could; more than your average girlfriend, you liked to think.

“I’m sorry, you don’t ha-“

“I get nightmares sometimes,” he blurted out, his face an image of embarrassment that had your ribcage tighten with pity and anger at once; anger, because had anyone ever guilt-tripped him over that? For Merlin’s beard, you hoped not, because if they had, they were idiots.

His next words were quiet, slow, as if they were heavy on his tongue – but he looked into your eyes again at least.

“I’d hate to keep you awake or… or worse.”

You had to bite your tongue not to react, trying hard to school your expression when a smile threatened to break out.

It was terrible of you, but you were hoping he meant nightmares; because bad dreams you could beat. It was one of the little spells you actually knew, one your mother taught you even during her period of mostly refusing her own magic.

You could do this. You could help; you felt almost a physical need to do so all of sudden.

Seeing the deep shame etched onto his face hurt and you’d do anything to wipe it out. But you had to fully understand first, because there was a nagging feeling that his shame did not only stem from suffering nightmares – which in your opinion was certainly not something he needed to be embarrassed about – but there was more to it.

Or worse, he had said.

The way he way staring over your shoulder now, having grown absent and anxious for your reaction, his fists clenching and unclenching on your back… understood that the supposed weakness he was admitting to wasn’t the whole story. It was dismay at his own strength, the power his body held.

Funny how you could relate to that, wasn’t it?

At least he was indirectly admitting it, being brave. Unlike you.

“Steve,” you whispered, causing him to hesitantly focus his attention on you again. When he did, you took your time to laid your palm on his cheek slowly, giving him an opportunity to pull away; an opportunity he didn’t take. “I’m not scared you’d hurt me.”

His lips parted in wordless surprise, regretful eyes growing wide at your deduction. Clearly, you were spot on.

“And I’m not pushing you into anything, I swear you can say no, but… I’d be happy to have you. Maybe I can chase away the bad dreams. But if you’re not comfortable with that… that’s fine.”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it again without a single sound coming out, pools of warm blue taking in your face, soft but reluctant. The corners of your lips lifted unwittingly in a small smile, eyes gaze drifting over Steve’s features; a face of a tired angel. The arches of his brows, the bridge and slope of his nose, cheekbones now free of band aids and bruises, strong jaw, plush lips. Of their own violation, the pads of your index and middle fingers traced the path, sending Steve’s eyes fluttering close, a soft exhale tickling your palm.

“Okay.”

Your hand stopped mid-motion, hovering and inch from his lips. Their corners turned upwards before he shifted, kissing your fingers.

“Okay,” you echoed, touched by his affection, astonished by his courage again. His courage to open up his heart to you. It was a bittersweet feeling, but you’d give in to the sweet part, swallowing the bitter down.

“Have a told you I feel lucky to have you?”

Funny he should say that.

“Once or twice. I feel the same,” you whispered, earning another kiss to your knuckles this time before he pulled you close, forcing your elbows to give out, sending you flush to his body again.

He carefully carded through your hair before his hand found yours, toying with your fingers.

You let the rebuilt quiet intimacy wash over you again, ignoring the few more insistent butterflies reminding you that the size of the fingers playing with yours was extremely telling. They finally subdued when you closed your eyes, sighing contentedly as you melted into Steve’s frame, inhaling his cologne mixing with the cinnamon and sweet aroma of apples.

As if he read your mind, it only took a few beats of silence before he spoke up.

“A small piece of pie before bed?”

You burst out laughing, muffling your laughter in his shirt, but nodded in an instant – even if you didn’t think that you could as much as look at the treat with how full you still were.

“Sure. Why not?”

Maybe it would bring him sweeter dreams.

Despite your wishful thinking, you didn’t rely on that. So when you finally settled in bed, you fought to stay awake a little longer than Steve and for once, it wasn’t too hard, the exhaustion from the mission and the amount of food he ate finally taking its toll. He was out like a light in no time.

Brushing a loose strand of hair from his forehead, your fingertips lingered on his temple; with eyes closed for better focus, you whispered the ancient words, hoping you were powerful enough to keep his nightmares away for the night and give him the peaceful sleep he deserved.

His Lucky Charm masterlist

S.R. mastelist

I made the mistake of looking up aprons 😭 Beside the let’s dough it one, I found a one that would be the perfect gift for this Steve 🤭 Now I want them all 😂

Oh and I never made an American-like apple pie in my life, so I just stole inspo from here 😇

Anyway. Thank you for reading and feedback💗

#fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america fluff #captain america x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america imagine #his lucky charm #apple pie life #anika ann

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relaxxattack · 3 years

Note

okay this is prob au/ooc bc it’s banking on jackie knowing ran wants to kill him and thinking it’s funny when he fails but here u go (if I cuts off i’ll send the rest of it. also I’m on my phone and not checking for typos sorry)

Jackie jumps up to sit on the bench, leaving Ran to stand awkwardly in the middle of the room. The general is talking about something. And Ran should really be listening, but all he can think about is how much this one person is ruining his life. If he goes back to Terminus a failure what then? The delays are already had enough.

He snaps out of it when he hears his name being called. And Jackie is gesturing for him to come closer so he does. He tries to leave a respectable gap between them - most people don’t like having their personal space crowded (Ran included). But Jackie frowns, drags him closer, and then frowns again.

“What the hell! You’re still so much taller than me.”

“Maybe you should try standing up.” Ran suggests, painfully aware of the fact Jackie’s hand hasn’t left his wrist. “Although I don’t see how it’ll help your ego if you need to stand on a bench to be taller than me.”

Jackie laughs, and finally lets go of Ran’s wrist. Only to loop his arms loosely around Ran’s neck. What. “You’re lucky you’re so cute because that was really rude.”

And he doesn’t have anything to say to that so he doesn’t respond. He’s sure that at any moment, Jackie will release him and go back to talking about whatever. But Jackie seems content. And Ran is quickly growing uncomfortable by how much he feels the same.

This is an opportunity, he reminds himself suddenly. He’s close enough to his target to reach his back. And the knife hidden up his sleeve means he won’t draw suspicion when getting it into his hand. All he needs to do is lean forward slightly to rest his hands on the bench behind Jackie.

So he does. He hoped to make it a casual shifting of pose. But he’s close enough to hear Jackie’s sharp intake of breath so he pulls back. Surely Jackie suspects him. There’s no other explanation for it. He didn’t think the general would be smart enough to interpret such a subtle movement as a threat. But he supposes Jackie was an assassin as well.

But when Jackie unloops his arms from around Ran’s neck, he doesn’t shove him away. He slides on hand down to hold his shoulder, and the other up to cup his cheek.

Oh.

Slowly, giving Ran more than enough time to move away, Jackie drags him down so their faces are almost level. (It forces him to put his hands behind Jackie on the bench, but that barely registers in his mind.) Jackie stops just before their lips touch.

And Ran will never admit this to anyone - not even himself - but he’s the one that closes the distance. It’s a short kiss. That’s the excuse his jumbled mind provides him for not taking advantage of his potion and Jackie’s distraction to complete his mission. It’s a short kiss, but they only barely pull away from each other. Jackie’s eyes are still closed and there’s a soft smile on his face.

Ran desperately tries to collect his thoughts. He has never wanted to complete a mission less. Because Jackie’s touch burns in the best way possible and he doesn’t want to ever move. And that scares him more than anything.

He could go in for another kiss. Now that he knows what’s happening. He can approach it calm and collected, and he won’t be too distracted by the shock of it to complete his job. He can finally be rid of the whirlwind force that is General Jackie, who spins around him and leaves him disorientated at every moment.

He leans in again, and forces himself to focus on the cool metal of his knife in his hand. It’s an easy angle straight to his heart. If Ran was perhaps less focused on not being distracted by the kiss, he’d be able to note how poetic it is.

He kisses Jackie, and feels his knife skate off Jackie’s armour. The armour that Ran didn’t realise he was wearing due to his layers of clothing effectively concealing it. Jackie laughs a little into the kiss when it happens. And there’s no way he hasn’t been found out now. The hand on his cheek disappears, only to reappear around his wrist. Where Jackie must press some nerve or something because Ran’s hand spasms and the knife clatters to the bench.

The smile on Jackie’s face would almost be cruel if Ran thought the general was capable of such a thing. But surely smiling in the face of his failure is cruel no matter how soft it looks.

“You’re going to have to try a bit harder than that.” Jackie murmurs. And they’re still so close that Ran can practically feel the words against his lips.

He’s so sure that this is the end. That Jackie will shove him away and call for the guards so he can be jailed and executed. Or pick up the knife and kill Ran himself. And he should be running. He should be trying to make a hasty escape. Which is something he wasn’t even considering in his desperation to finally be done with this.

He hadn’t checked to see if Jackie was unarmoured and unarmed. He hadn’t planned his escape route. Jackie has disorientated him so thoroughly that he may as well be a novice at this.

If he runs now, he’ll go back to Terminus a failure. But at least he’ll be alive. And he can pass off whatever knowledge he’s gathered in his stay here to the council so they can finally finish the job.

But he’s frozen in place.

Jackie pushes him back enough to so that he can jump off the bench. Ran feels inexplicably cold now that Jackie’s no longer touching him.

“You’re lucky you’re handsome.” Jackie is grinning, as though he didn’t just thwart an assassination attempt from someone he was kissing. “Let’s go get dinner tomorrow night, yeah?”

Ran takes a step back and forces his brain to start back up again. He’s half convinced that he made the whole thing up due to Jackie’s strange reaction. But the knife is still sitting on the bench.

“Okay.” He says. Because he’s simply not sure what else to say.

“Um, I don’t really have a time preference. 6pm sound good to you?”

“Sure.”

“Or, if we hang out during the day doing investigation work or whatever else then we can just go whenever we’re hungry.” Jackie shrugs. “Doesn’t need to be a fancy event.”

“If you say so.”

“Great!” Jackie grins and makes an excited motion with his hands. “It’s a date! See you tomorrow!”

The general gives him a lazy salute, and then practically skips out of the room. Leaving Ran to stand there and try to process what just happened.

He’ll have to go back to his room and figure out what to do now that Jackie knows for sure he’s trying to kill him. He’ll have to figure out if dinner is some obscure play to trap him, or whether Jackie is really just stupid enough to let this slide.

(The best and safest solution, is for Ran to just leave. But for reasons he can’t and won’t explain, he pushes that thought away.)

THIS IS SO GOOD HELLO. ITS LIKE. FUCKED UP AND I AM SO INTERESTED. JACKIE IS DEFINITELY FUCKED UP LIKE THAT LIKE I THINK LIKE THIS SEEMS LIKE SOMETHING HED DO.

#long post #for me art #knifetrick writing

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cinnaminsvga · 3 years

Text

by the way | jungkook

→ summary: there are only two weeks left until graduation—which means you only have two weeks left until you’ll be nothing more than a facebook birthday notification on his phone (unless you do something about it, of course.) → genre: high school!au, humor, slight angst → warnings: none unless you’re terrified of two idiots mutually pining for e/o → words: 1.2K → a/n: ain’t it kinda weird that there were some people you met in high school that you considered your “friend” but never kept in touch with them after graduation? like ships that have sailed past each other, only being left with some hope of crossing someday. idk, high school was weird. anyway, enjoy!

—part of the bgw drabble marathon (Tropes #5)—

“So, have you asked anyone out to the graduation ball yet?” Hoseok asks you suddenly, his words muffled by the disgusting amount of pasta in his mouth.

From the corner of your eye, Jungkook’s shoulders tense. You don’t mean to notice—you weren’t even supposed to be looking at him. He has his gaze trained downwards, shooting lasers at his rice with enough intensity to cook it twice over.

“No, I haven’t,” you respond eventually.

“Time is running out you know! It wouldn’t look good if the class valedictorian arrived at the party without some good ol’ eye candy,” Hoseok says.

You scoff, taking a sip of your lukewarm apple juice. “Who says I need a man to make me look good?”

“Or woman, for that matter!” Chaeyoung pipes up. She wiggles her eyebrows, leaning across the lunch table until her chest almost gets a platter full of greasy cafeteria pizza. “You know, the offer is still open. I guarantee that if we went together, we’d be the prettiest bitches in the entire ballroom!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re right, we would be… minus the fact that you’ve been pining over Eunbi for God knows how long, and it would be seriously shitty of me to deny you your last chance of getting together with her.”

Chaeyoung leans back, acquiesced. “Alright, you got me there,” she sighs, crossing her arms. “Still, you know I would drop everything and anything if you asked.”

“Not me though, I’m a selfish whore,” Jimin interrupts, reaching his minimum quota of giving his unsolicited opinion. He points finger guns at you. “I’m bringing my hot and sexy college boyfriend to the ball.”

“Oh right, how could we ever forget your mysterious ‘college’ boyfriend,” Hoseok scoffs, the quotation marks audible in his voice. “The one that we’ve never seen or heard of before, and also conveniently lives in a different city that is miles from here? That boyfriend?”

“Shut up!” Jimin glares, pointing his sharpened acrylic nail at him. “You’ll eat your words once you see how fucking gorgeous and hot and REAL my boyfriend is!” He turns to you, brows still quirked in irritation. “Anyway, as I was saying. Even though I’m going to the ball with my snookywookums, I’m willing to scout a date for you if you want.”

“I don’t think snookywookums is a Scrabble-verified word,” Hoseok says under his breath, nearly causing you to snort your pasta up your nose.

“T-Thank you, Jimin,” you say, coughing through your laughter. Lucky for Hoseok, Jimin’s massive ego doubles as a noise-cancelling material. “But I’m fine, really. I’m more than happy just hanging out with my best friends over some random guy.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Chaeyoung coos, pinching your cheeks.

“–and also improbable,” Hoseok snorts. “These two whores are definitely gonna spend that entire night fucking their dates,” Hoseok says, jabbing his thumb at your resident bimbo-himbo combo, “while I will be busy with DJ-ing at the event, so you’re pretty much outta luck, chief.”

“What the fuck? You’re gonna DJ at our fucking graduation ball?” you squawk. “Why the hell would you volunteer to do that?”

“For… experience?”

“Really.”

Hoseok raises his hands in surrender with a pout. “Okay, fine. Maybe I wanted to impress Namjoon. Fucking sue me for being a hypocrite!”

“Ahah! The ogre has fallen in love with the prince!” Jimin hollers, earning himself a pinch in the tit from Hoseok.

You huff, annoyed. “Am I really being abandoned by all my friends? On one of our final days together as classmates before we inevitably part ways towards adulthood?”

A beat of guilty silence. Then:

“Yep!

“Totally!”

“You guys suck!”

You groan in defeat, rolling your eyes. “Fine then! I guess Jungkook and I will have to entertain each other, right Kook?”

The boy in question, who had been eerily quiet this entire lunch period, jolts in his seat after suddenly being addressed. His elbow hits the table with a bang, causing an impressive string of expletives to spill from his mouth.

Jimin snorts, amused. “Damn, you good? What’s got loverboy all jumpy?”

“Don’t call me loverboy,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth, his jaw clenched as he cradles his injured elbow.

“Well someone clearly pissed in your Cheerios. What’s up? Why are you being all broody and sulky?” Hoseok asks.

“I’m not being broody,” Jungkook says broodily. For a brief moment, your gaze catches his, but he quickly averts his eyes before you can get a good glimpse at the unknown emotion that tints them. “I just… got a bad grade in Chemistry. That’s all.”

“First time? I guess senioritis doesn’t hit all of us the same,” Jimin sniffs. “By the way, Kook. Do you have a date for the ball? If you do, then we can all shame Y/N into looking for a date and not feel guilty about it.”

“Hey!” you whine, but your attention is focused on Jungkook. You hold your breath, a looming sense of dread rising up your stomach like bile. A desperate plea rings through your head, crying out, “Please say you’ll go with me.”

As friends, you remind yourself.

Sure Jan, your inner voice replies.

Jungkook barks out a laugh, but it sounds hollow. “I, umm…” he trails off, fidgeting in his seat awkwardly. He puts down his chopsticks, wiping his clammy hands on his jeans. “I’m still, uh, working up the courage to ask her…”

“HER?! YOU LIKE GIRLS?” Chaeyoung screams, horrified. “Then why the FUCK have you been rejecting all those poor girls for the past four years?”

“I just wasn’t interested, I guess,” he shrugs. He pauses. “Wait, did you not know I was straight?”

“Kookie, I don’t know if you haven’t noticed, but you recoil like a raccoon being spritzed with water every time a woman so much as looks at you,” Hoseok points out.

“I’m just shy,” he grumbles.

To your left, Jimin nudges you gently. “Did you know?” he whispers, brows arched.

“Of course I did,” you snap. “That boy uses five-in-one shampoo and soap.”

Jimin leans back into his seat, a mystified expression on his face. “Damn, you’re right. And here I thought you just liked pining over him because you were a masochist.”

You choke on your own spit, feeling as though a large stone has just been dropped on your esophagus. You whirl towards Jimin with a death glare, but the shithead barely flinches in response. “What the fuck did you just say?” you seethe, panic clear in your voice.

“What did you say?” Jungkook repeats after you, jaw agape. You both make eye contact, and you notice the way Jungkook’s cheeks have flushed a deep red. You have no doubt in your mind that you aren’t faring any better. Shit!

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Hoseok interrupts. He gestures to the clock by the wall, which shows that your lunch period is about to end. He slams his lunch container shut, a large smirk on his face. “But this will definitely be a fun conversation for later, and I want front row seats.”

“Ditto! Text me once you’re out of your last class, okay?” Chaeyoung says, standing up with Hoseok. She blows a kiss your way and pats Jungkook endearingly on the head. “You guys have English together, right? Should be fun!”

“Gotta blast,” Jimin says, scrambling out of his seat before you can snap out of your daze long enough to twist his balls into a ponytail. He throws a mock salute at you, toothy grin on full display. “Have fun!”

Now left alone (i.e. abandoned) by your friends, you tentatively turn to look at Jungkook. You swallow thickly, cheeks flamin’ hot. “So, by the way…. About that date?”

#btsghostiemarathon #bts scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #high school!au #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #GOD I WROTE THIS IN LIKE 1 HOUR IDK IF ANY OF IT MAKES CENTS GBYE TIME TO DIE AGAIN

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marauder-exe · 4 years

Text

Prompt List #2

Welcome to my biggest prompt list ever

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank u!

Theres like 200 so be wary

Angst

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“wHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?"

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me."

" And I thought I loved you."

" Aren't you even going to cry?"

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

Fluff

51. “You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

52. “Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

53. “You smell really nice.”

54. “Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

55. “I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

56. “If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

57. “Here, let’s share the blanket.”

58. “You’re comfy.”

59.“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

60.“But I want to hear you sing.”

61.“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

62.“Care to give me a back scratch?”

63.“I think I love you.”

64.“Your bed head is really cute.”

65.“How about a kiss?”

66.“You made this for me?”

67.Aw, you’re blushing.”

68. Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

69. “Let me help you with that.”

70. “I don’t want to forget this moment.”

71.“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

72.“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

73.“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

74.“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

75.“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

76.“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

77.“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

78.“No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

79.“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

80.“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

81.“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

82.“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

83.“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

84.“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

85.“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

86.“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

87.“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

88.“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

89.“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

90.“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

91.“It was always you.”

92.I love you in every possible way.”

93.“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

94.“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

95.“Duck, you idiot!”

96.“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

97.“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

98.“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

99.“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

100.“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

Sarcasm

101.“Define normal.”

102.“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”

103.“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”

104.“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

105.“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.”

106.“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”

107.“And you wonder why you’re still single.”

108.“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

109.“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?”

110.“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”

111.“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.”

112.“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.”

113.“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

114.“My middle finger salutes you.”

115.“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”

116.Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

117.“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.”

118.“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

119.“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”

120.“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

121.“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

122.“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

123.“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

124.“I need therapy after this.”

125.“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”

126.“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”

127.“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”

128.“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.”

129.“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”

130.“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”

131.“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

132.“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”

133.“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

134.“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

135.“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”

136.“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”

137.“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”

138.“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”

139.“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”

140.“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

141.“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”

142.“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

143.“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”

144.“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.”

145.“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

146.“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

147.“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.

148.“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

149.“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”

150.“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.”

Drama

151.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

152.“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”

153.“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.”

154.“I know you lied to me.”

155.“I’m not even sorry.”

156.“You backstabber!” 157.“I never want to see you again.” 158.“You never mattered to me.”

159.“I knew this was a bad idea.”

160.“Rot in hell.”

161.“It was supposed to be a secret!”

162.“No one loves me.” 163.“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 164.“You made me cry.” 165.“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 166.“How DARE you?!” 167.“I know you’re not talking to me…” 168.“I SAW you with him/her/them!”

169.“Just leave me alone.”

170.“What did you do?!” 171.“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.”

172. “Just admit that was extra…”

173.“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 174.“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 175.“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 176.“There’s something I have to tell you…” 177.“I can’t do this anymore.” 178.“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 179.“I never loved you.” 180.“It’s too late.”

181.“Quit ignoring me.”

182. “Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!”

183.“I love you. I’m sorry.”

184.“I don’t want to be friends.”

185.“Can we please pretend I never said that?”

186.“Friendzoned again.”

187.“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.”

188.“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.”

189.“I was there for you when no one else was!”

190.“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.”

191.“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.”

192.“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…”

193.“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.”

194. “I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.”

195.“When I said I loved you, I meant it.”

196.“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?”

197.“You were the one that left all those notes for me?”

198.“You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.”

199.“We agreed this was just physical!”

200.“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.”

Ahhh im sorry that was so long, but if you read all the way to here, your a real one.

Again i write for all Hp characters! Feel free to use these prompts as ur own

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starkravinghazelnoots · 3 years

Text

It shouldn’t have been a big deal to Sam that Bucky was taller than him. In fact, it wasn’t a big deal to Sam, no matter what Sarah insisted.

“There is only one thing you men are more sensitive about than your height,” Sarah had teased with a knowing smirk, “and that would be y’all’s foot size.”

Sam had wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Please don’t ever speak to me again.”

“You are the one living under my roof, Samuel.”

Unfortunately, his sister had been right about that, too.

Except no, no, it didn’t matter that Bucky was taller than Sam! The difference was a measly two inches, so small it could hardly even be called a ‘difference’ with total seriousness. And Bucky was yet to boast of this slight advantage he had in height, either, thus reinforcing the fact that it really and truly did not at all matter to Sam that Bucky was the teensiest bit taller than him. Sure, maybe sometimes Sam wanted to be the one who leaned down into a tender kiss, but that wish was not so strong as to be the only thing ever on his mind.

“If that’s the case, why can’t you stop talking my ear off about it?”

Sam frowned at his sister’s irritated tone, though her dramatic eye roll that followed told him Sarah’s exasperation was only half-genuine. “Well, since you’re always telling the boys you know everything, I figured you’d be the best person to ask for adv—”

“Oh, you hush.” Sarah swatted his arm with the kitchen towel. “I don’t tell them I know everything. I just remind them that if they have questions, they should come to me before you or Bucky.”

Yeah, Sam couldn’t blame her for that one. Bucky’s knowledge was antiquated at best and Sam no longer bothered to deny how his constant to and fro across the country meant he was oftentimes out the loop. “Okay, well, now I’m the one coming to you with a question. So what should I do? Buy a pair of heels?” He was pretty sure he’d hate wearing them, but Bucky’s reaction would inevitably be hilarious. Sam was tempted.

“Hell no, do not waste your paycheck on that.” Sarah sighed as she hung the beige towel up beside the sink. “Look, bro. If you’re coming to me like AJ and Cass do with a question about people, I’m gonna give you the same answer I always give them. If you got a problem with someone…” She gave him a flat look that immediately clued Sam in to the fact that he was going to hate her advice. “Talk. It. Out.”

Sam groaned, leaning back against the wooden cabinets of the kitchen. “You already know Bucky’s the quiet and condescending type.”

“Who gives a shit? Clearly you’re the one with a problem here, not your beau.”

Touché.

“Also, you chose to date him.”

“Alright, alright,” Sam grumbled. “You’ve made your point.”

“Thank you. Now go put all your counselor skills to use and have a talk with your man,” Sarah concluded with a shooing gesture. “Oh, also—wake up the boys for me, will you? They’re gonna be late for school if they don’t get moving.”

Sam gave her a mock salute, grinning as Sarah rolled her eyes a second time before turning back towards the eggs she was scrambling on the stove. Knowing such a reaction meant their conversation was over, Sam resigned himself to maybe—maybe—talking to Bucky about his… see, he didn’t even know what to call the issue. His height complex? God no, that sounded horrible.

Well, first things first—he needed to wake up the boys.

As Sam headed towards the stairs, he passed a sleepy Bucky emerging from the small half bath, his normal hand covering his mouth as he yawned while the vibranium one scratched his stomach. Sam did his best to ignore the way the latter action made the hem of Bucky’s shirt ride up a fraction of an inch.

“Morning,” he said, earning a tired nod from Bucky in response as he reached the foot of the stairs, pausing after taking only a few steps up. “Sleep well?”

Bucky nodded again, a content smile tugging at his lips. “Through the whole night.”

Sam’s chest swelled with pride at the revelation. It had now been—what, a week and a half of restful nights for Bucky? Surely he was verging on a new record. “Hell yeah, man. That’s great.”

Bucky’s little smile became a pleased smirk. “I still think I’d sleep even better in your room—”

Sam laughed. “Sorry, Buck. Not with kids in the house.” He glanced at the clock across the hall before taking another step up the stairs. “Speaking of the boys, I need to wake them up before Sarah has my head.”

“Oh, wait. I’ll come with you.”

Sam pretended his heart didn’t flutter at the near-insufferable domesticity of the mental image that followed, one of Bucky gently shaking his nephews’ shoulders to get them out of bed. Christ. Sam was so whipped.

When Bucky reached the foot of the stairwell, Sam couldn’t help but notice the scattered fluffy tufts his partner’s hair had developed into throughout the night. Unfairly-attractive bed head, as it were. This casual observation was followed by a more intense thought that hit Sam like a sledgehammer.

He could see the top of Bucky’s head. Because, on the stairs, he was taller than Bucky.

Sam didn’t consider himself to be an impulsive person—no matter what Bucky said—but at that moment, he threw forethought to the wind. Bucky only had his feet on the first and second steps when Sam leaned down to cup his partner’s face with both hands and crash their lips together in a kiss that made fireworks explode in Sam’s stomach. Bucky’s morning breath wasn’t even too bad—rinsed his mouth, maybe?—and Sam soon found himself lost in the warmth of Bucky’s lips on his and the firm grip Bucky now had on his hips. Although he sorely regretted the eventual need to pull away for air, Sam had to admit that the dazed, blissful expression on Bucky’s face almost made breaking the kiss worth it.

God. Fuck. That settled it. If this was what it was like to kiss Bucky Barnes from above, Sam was going to suck it up and lay everything out to Bucky. Sarah would tease him endlessly, as sisters were wont to do, but damn.

It’d be so worth it.

“What was that for?” Bucky finally murmured, running a hand up and down Sam’s side.

Sam smiled as he traced Bucky’s bottom lip with his thumb. Ha. “Ask me later. We gotta wake up the boys.”

Bucky nodded. He made absolutely no move to continue up the stairs. “Kiss me again, first?”

Well, who was Sam to refuse such a polite request?

#sarah: making out on my stairwell is NOT waking up the boys samuel #jsdsjks this is the first of my sambucky kiss prompt ficlets for pride. haven't decided if i'll put it on ao3 or not #sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sarah wilson #tfatws #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #mcu fanfic #sambucky fic #my writing

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scones-and-texting-and-murder · 3 years

Text

Bookends

(This story was originally written for and published in the DeanCas Anthology back in 2018. )

Word Count: 2223 Rating: General ao3 link

Cas pulls as close to the door as he can, checking the rearview mirror to make sure he isn’t blocking traffic as he waits for Dean to get out of the car. Before heading inside, Dean ducks his head back in to smile at him. “I’ll get us some coffee.”

Instead of driving away, Cas stays there, watching until Dean pulls open the diner door. Leaning heavily on his cane, he shuffles more than walks, his bow-legged gait made stiff by the arthritis that wracks his joints. Cas waits until he’s safely inside, then pulls past the open handicapped space Dean stubbornly refuses to use, and finds an empty parking spot.

Cas’s car is boxy and utilitarian, and Dean often proclaims that he wouldn’t be caught dead behind the wheel of something so ugly. Cas plays along because giving up driving had been Dean’s toughest concession to age, but as his vision deteriorated and his reflexes slowed, it had become an unavoidable sacrifice. With replacement parts for the Impala harder and harder to come by, Dean had finally agreed to keep her stored safely away in their garage. Cas knew it pained him to see her shrouded under a tarp, her motor idle and useless, but Dean would rather enshrine her in pristine condition than risk one more run-in with a light pole or curb.

With his ugly car parked, Cas crosses the lot to join Dean inside. While he’s aged as well, aged to the point that nobody questions the two of them together, he’s been spared many of the maladies that Dean’s combat-wrecked body has endured, and he moves with relative ease. The best they can figure is that the grace he’d had on and off over the years left his body with a certain resilience to the passage of time. Cas can’t cure Dean as he once could, can’t ease the aches or slow the aging process, but he can use his own comparatively good health and mobility to take care of him.

Inside, Cas navigates past the hostess stand to find Dean at their usual booth, chatting with their usual waitress. The two of them go to this diner religiously each Sunday morning, where the pews are scuffed burgundy vinyl booths and the altar is the breakfast buffet with the generous senior discount. As always, Dean has maneuvered himself across the bench seat to make room for Cas to sit beside him. His cane rests against the wall in easy reach, the simple carved wooden handle belying the fact that the base unscrews to reveal a bayonet-like tip. It’s never been wielded as a weapon (although Dean uses it, still sheathed, to poke at aggressive pigeons who muscle in around their favorite park bench), but that potential made it “badass” enough to overcome Dean’s resistance to using it.

To Sam’s everlasting chagrin, Dean has kept all of his hair, and it’s turned a stunning silver. The crinkles around his eyes have deepened, meeting the roadmap of lines that cross his face. His shoulders are stooped, his joints are stiff, and Cas thinks he’s never been more beautiful. After so many seemingly certain ends, so many years assuming Dean would die young and bloodied, the fact that he’s living out a full, lengthy life is an unparallelled blessing. Cas marvels at the gift of days that have unfolded into decades, granting them time he never dreamed they’d have together here on earth.

As Cas settles into the booth, he smiles and greets their waitress.

“Two for the buffet?” she confirms as she pours their coffee. Cas doesn’t even have to check to know that she’ll leave Dean’s at a little more than half-full so he can lift it without the tremor in his hands sloshing it over the brim.

They drink their coffee quietly, simply enjoying the ritual of being here. Dean peers at the laminated card that lists the specials, even though he never orders off the menu.

“Shall I?” When Dean nods, Cas gets to his feet. “Any requests?”

“You know what I like,” Dean says, leaning over to swat at Cas’s butt.

Picking up two plates from the warmer, Cas slides them along the metal counter, filling them in tandem as he traverses the buffet. Pancakes are too difficult for Dean to get on a fork, but the crisp waffles are good. Bacon he can pick up and eat, and Cas uses the tongs to place precisely two strips on his plate. If Dean wants more, he can get up and get it himself.

Dean can argue with Cas’s choices, but they’d had a hell of a scare a few years back. Cas will never forget the look on Dean’s face when their phone rang in the middle of the night, alerting them that Sam had been taken to the hospital in an ambulance. They’d rushed there themselves, Cas driving in silence, knowing that nothing short of seeing Sam with his own two eyes could reassure Dean. Thankfully, it had been a mild heart attack and, after spending a few days in the hospital, the discharge plan called for cardiac rehab and an appointment with a nutritionist. With Sam’s release imminent, Dean had relaxed enough to crow at the irony. “Don’t either of you try to tell me what to eat ever again. Mr. Organic Produce is the one lying in the hospital bed while my pork-rind-fueled ticker is going strong.”

Still pale, Sam’s brow furrowed with resignation. “I’m beginning to think you can’t die.”

Dean jabbed a finger in his direction. “You don’t get to go first. We have a deal.”

“Yes, sir.” Sam lifted the hand without the IV in a mock salute.

“That’s more like it,” Dean said. “Speaking of which, I need a snack.”

Cas helped him up and they walked to the elevator that would take them to the cafeteria. As they waited for it to arrive, Dean pulled Cas into a hug. Cas left a hand on his shoulder when they stepped apart again. “All right?”

Dean nodded, his green eyes shining with tears. “I’m glad you’re here.” Cas started to respond, to remind him that there was nowhere else he would be, but Dean cut him off. “I know you know. But I wanted to say it anyhow.”

Cas noticed a change after that. Dean was still the same stubborn mule Cas had fallen in love with, but he gradually became more willing to let Cas help. And somehow, Cas loved him even more for it. He loved seeing the slow-blossoming acceptance that came when Dean stopped seeing Cas’s help as a sign of weakness.

Now, standing in front of the steaming trays of food, Cas considers what else to add to their plates. He bypasses the cauldron of oatmeal (they eat that at home most mornings) and continues along the buffet. There’s a tremendous satisfaction in being allowed to care for this man who has done so much for so many and asked for so little in return. In fact, Dean has now embraced this new role so fully—no longer questioning what he deserves, or grudgingly accepting help, but full-on enjoyment of being doted on—that Cas has to be careful he doesn’t get lazy. There’s nothing Cas would rather do than settle Dean in front of a sunny window, snug in the recliner for Cas to wait on like a pampered cat, but he knows that sort of inactivity would do Dean’s joints and his heart no favors. So he watches Dean’s diet and insists on them taking slow walks after breakfast when his energy is highest.

Their neighborhood is a mix of young and old and everyone knows the two Mr. Winchesters who circle the block on days when the weather permits. The kids on bikes and scooters know to give them a wide berth, their parents warning them that the old men need the entire sidewalk, but they call out their hellos as they go by. They’re friendly with everyone except the woman who lives on the corner. Dean is convinced she’s a demon, but Cas suspects his distrust of her stems more from the fact that she seems immune to his charm. (Whatever the reason, he’s had to talk Dean out of chalking a devil’s trap inside her mailbox more than once.) They chat with their neighbors about the weather and the score of last night’s ballgame, and it’s so painfully normal that Cas sometimes feels his throat tighten up at the wonder of it all.

When Cas returns to their booth, Dean examines his plate. “They outta bacon?”

Cas cuts the waffle into manageable pieces and peels the wrapper from the muffin before sliding Dean’s plate over. “You know the deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean says. “You just like to look at my ass when I get up.”

They eat in congenial silence with Dean methodically working his way around his plate, eating everything heartily, even the fruit. Sitting next to him, Cas can easily scoop up any bites that miss his mouth, plucking them from Dean’s lap or his shirt.

“You two good?” The waitress asks when she comes to refill their coffees. “Need anything?”

Dean swallows the bite of muffin he’s working on, and rests his hand on top of Cas’s. “I’ve got everything I need right here. An actual angel, this one.”

She nods agreeably. “I can almost see his halo.”

Cas has learned that an old man can say just about anything and receive an indulgent smile in return. When Dean references angels or demons or the apocalypse, people assume he’s speaking in metaphor and they’ll nod pleasantly. Sometimes he’ll do it purely for effect, telling rambling tales from their past for the sheer enjoyment of being able to speak openly. He can’t always keep the details straight, but Cas is there to remind him. Some days, though, he seems to lose where he is in time, and there’s nothing Cas can do for that. Cas has taken to keeping a watchful eye on him in the late afternoons when he likes to doze on the couch with their one-eyed black cat curled up on his chest. Cas stays close in case he wakes from his nap agitated, calling for Cas, wanting to know where Sam is. Cas helps him to sit up as the cat springs down and scurries away.

“Don’t go,” he says again and again, and Cas takes him in his arms, assuring Dean that he’s here and reminding him that Sam is safe at his own home. He holds him until Dean shakily dismisses it all as just a bad dream.

The unfairness of it overwhelms Cas, and each time he’s left filled with wrath. These final years should be spent in well-earned peace, but instead Dean seems cursed with reliving his most frightening memories, traumatized anew by old, familiar fears. If Dean’s mind is destined to slip, why can’t it be toward blissful forgetting? What Dean has endured goes beyond what any human should; to ask him to bear it again is nothing short of cruel. But it’s a torture chamber created in his own mind, and all Cas can do is sit helplessly by, doing his best to ground Dean and bring him back to the present.

Cas looks at Dean’s empty plate. “Did you want to get some more?”

“Nah.” He’s full and happy and it’s time for their walk.

The waitress arrives to clear their plates. As he does every week, Dean asks if she needs to see his ID for the senior discount. As she does every week, she pretends to consider it before leaving the check. “You boys take your time.”

“Tip her well,” Dean says, leaning in to supervise Cas as he signs the bill.

“I always do,” Cas assures him.

When they’re ready to leave, Cas stands next to the banquette, waiting for Dean to retrieve his cane and slide himself to the edge. Using a combination of the cane and Cas’s extended arm, Dean hoists himself upright, groaning a little. Cas keeps a firm hold on him until he’s steady on his feet. Dean still dresses in layers, but these days it’s because he gets chilled easily. He favors heavy knit cardigans and as long as Cas gets the zipper started for him he can tug it up or down as needed. Cas checks him for crumbs then together they walk through the other tables crowded with families. They continue by the hostess station where a woman is wiping down menus. “See you next week,” she calls as they pass.

Cas steps forward to push open the door, and stands holding it. “Watch your step,” he says as he always does, pointing toward the raised metal threshold of the doorway.

Using his cane to steady himself, Dean shuffles his way over it, then stops to lay his hand on Cas’s cheek. His knuckles are gnarled, the skin of his palm is dry and warm, and Cas feels the same flare of awe go through him as he has since the moment he first found this glorious soul in the depths of hell.

“I am the luckiest man who has ever lived,” Dean says.

Cas kisses his palm, then takes his arm to help him on his way.

#deancas #destiel #my writing #growing old together #this came well before the finale #but it feels like a fix it fic nonetheless

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random-imagines-blog · 4 years

Text

Adore {Andrew Garfield x Female!Reader NSFW Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2649 Summary: You’ve had a long day at work, and undressing, you find yourself feeling insecure about a part of your body. Andrew makes sure you know just how beautiful you are. Warnings: Okay guys, it’s smut. Pure and simple, maybe a little cute, but smut.

No matter what happened throughout the day, no matter which assholes that you had to deal with, you knew that you would come home to a loving man. Well - as long as his work schedule allowed, but since he was taking a little break, he was sure to be there. And he was sure to be expecting you any minute now. You unlocked the front door with your key, swinging it open to reveal your little brownstone home in one of the quieter neighborhoods of London. You closed and locked the door behind you, took off your shoes, put your keys in the bowl and counted to ten in your head. With perfect timing, Andrew came down the staircase, a broad grin on his face, and his hair as messy as always. “Hey,” He said, in the shy way that he always had. “I’m glad you made it home okay.”

“My train was late, but I managed,” You said, walking towards him. He wrapped you in a hug, both of your arms managing to link around his lanky frame. Still, he was warmer than the rest of the house and a comfort to you after making your way through the evening mist. You took in the smell of his sweater - the detergent that you used clinging onto it nicely. You loved the smell of fresh laundry. “Did you already eat?”

“Not what I wanted to,” He said, his sweet expression turning into a smirk. Even after a year, you still grew surprised at how fast he could turn from the sweet boy-next-door Peter Parker character he played into someone a little darker. Someone very sexual.

“Babe,” You laughed, pushing him away from you, and tried to get yourself readjusted. “I’m starving and I need a shower, don’t corrupt me just yet.”

“Follow me,” Andrew laughed, putting his arm around your waist. His hand sat comfortably on your hip as you walked together to the kitchen, where, gloriously, your favorite pizza was on the counter, box propped open, the steam still rising. You could smell the toppings as soon as you stepped inside. “There, that’s one of your problems fixed. I can help you with the other if you like.”

“You’ve earned it,” You giggled, then ran towards the pizza in your bare feet. You didn’t bother with a plate, just took a slice right out of the box and ate it right then and there. You had a small lunch due to the fact that you had a meeting that went into your lunch hour, so you really were hungry. “How did you know I would need this?”

“I know you,” He said, leaning against the counter. “You always have rough Thursdays.”

“Got that right,” You mumbled into the slice of pizza. You devoured it, then went for a second before you started to feel full enough to be human again. With your index finger, you wiped traces of sauce from the corner of your lips, then licked it off, much to Andrew’s delight. Anything having to do with your tongue, he loved, which you could tell from the bulge in his pants already. The poor guy, you almost felt for him. You knew absolutely that he both loved and lusted for you, though there were times when you couldn’t fully comprehend why. Seeing him standing there, vulnerable, looking at you with dark eyes - you couldn’t tease the boy anymore. “Go start the shower for me, will you love?”

“Yes ma’am,” He said with a goofy salute, then nearly tripped over his own gangly legs as he ran up the stairs. You chuckled to yourself, closed the pizza box then slowly made your way upstairs, stripping as you did. The belt that went around the waist of your dress dropped first, falling like a slinky to the second last stair. Your manouvered behind you to get at the zipper of your dress, which then fell onto a pile on the hardwood hallway. You stepped out of it smoothly, and then stood in the doorway of the bathroom, watching Andrew test the water in the stand up shower by putting his hand underneath it. He saw you in the reflection of the glass, just before it was fogged up with steam from the water. He turned to look at you, admiring you, especially as you hooked your fingers through your underwear and trailed them down so they were around your ankles. You stepped out with one foot while you raised the other, your panties like a flag on the end of your foot. Andrew eagerly took them, not with his hands, but with his teeth, then let the material drop.

You stood there, only in your bra, and as you always did, you made sure to turn away from all reflective surfaces when you took it off. You let it fall on the floor, the cups looking pitifully small in your opinion.

Andrew knew about your biggest insecurity, which was the fact that you had small breasts. You weren’t quite flat, but you felt like you were close enough to be. You had to wear padded bras and push up ones to even fill out your dresses right. You’ve even considered surgery to get your B’s up to C’s at least, but you held off because - well - because the thought of healing and not being able to feel Andrew touch them for a couple of weeks was more painful than the surgery itself.

“Come here,” Andrew whispered to you from by the shower. You did so, eagerly, though your mood was slightly diminished, as it always was when your insecurities came into play. He was fully dressed which made it all the more erotic when you leaned your back against him and his hands went over your abdomen. He tickled your belly button slightly, pressing kisses on your neck and collar bone, then made his way up. He rubbed at what little underboob that you did have, then took each breast in his hands. “Absolutely perfect. Look, they fit in my hands just right.”

Your nipples were poking out from between his fingers, getting pinched in the process which made you gasp. Small as they were, they were intensely sensitive, and just your nubs getting this little bit of attention was enough to make you feel sexual energy coursing through your body. You moaned as he nibbled on your earlobe, hitting another one of your sweet spots.

“You sure you wouldn’t like them a little bigger?” You asked, clasping your hand over one of his, holding it there.

“The only thing that I would change about you is your busy work schedule,” Andrew mumbled against your skin. “And that you won’t accept my ring on your finger.”

You frowned at that, despite the fact that his voice against your neck still felt amazing. “Andrew, baby-”

“No pressure,” He said, giving your left breast a light squeeze that made you jump back against him. “Just reminding you of how much I love you.”

You leaped at the chance to change the subject since he had given you an out. “It would be easier for you to prove that you loved me if you no longer had your clothes on.”

You lightly pushed his hands off of you, turned away from him, and went into the warm call of the shower, the water hitting you on the shoulder. It was so deliciously hot, and as you closed the door of the shower to tease Andrew, it trapped the heat in with you. Though it started to steam up, you could faintly see that he was indeed undressing on the other side of the glass. You pressed yourself up against it, what little chest you had going flat against the glass, nipples hardening further at the contact.

“Bloody hell,” He said, accent coming out, as he saw you like that. You even went as far as to press a little kiss to the glass, giggling before you turned around to be underneath the water again. Before you knew it, he was in there, behind you, hands grabbing at your bum. “Do you know how sexy you are?”

“No. Are you going to tell me?” You asked, being cheeky in the way that you knew that he liked. He wasn’t going to tell you apparently - he was going to show you instead. You could feel how hard he was against you, it slipping easily through your crack. When you teased, he teased.

“You’re wonderfully sexy, love,” He said, reaching over you to take the shower head off of it’s post. You wondered what he was going to do with it, but you found out soon enough when he lowered it down your body, then focused the water pressure right onto your clit, causing stimulation that you could feel from head to toe. You gasped, and he put his arm around you to keep you steady. You could almost feel his goofy grin from here. But he remained behind you so that you couldn’t see, but could only feel his study frame behind you. You allowed yourself to lean back, put more of your weight on him as you allowed yourself to feel the pleasure from the water.

The rest of your body barely had time to get wet before you were feeling your first orgasm of the night coming on. Andrew knew you inside and out, and knew what those intakes of breath meant. He knew that you were getting close. Holding you tightly against him, he slid between your cheeks. “Come on baby,” He moaned into your ear, swirling the water around but keeping it mainly centered on your clit. “Cum for me.”

You fell back against his chest, shoulders tense, breathing heavy, and let it overtake you with a moan of his name. He hardly had to touch you in order for him to help you along. You only had to lean back against him and let your orgasm take you over until you were a shuddering mess in his arms. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’re done already,” He said, chuckling as he held you.

“Not a chance,” You said, turning around to press a kiss onto his waiting lips. As his tongue slipped into your mouth, he returned the shower head to it’s original position, using his long arms to his advantage. His cock was as hard as a rod, sticking straight up between the two of you, rubbing against your stomach.

You lowered yourself down, the water running down your chest, to the drain. You kneeled down, looking up at him, which was one of his favorite positions for you to be in. He couldn’t even take the sight of you on your knees, it was too goddamn much for him. He felt like he was going to spurt right then and there, so he leaned his head back against the glass wall, eyes closed, waiting for something to happen. If he couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t explode from sight alone.

You didn’t go for the cock right away, focusing on the balls. You licked the fold between them, taking in the smell of body wash. He must have showered right before you came home for the scent was clinging strongly. God, you loved him so much. That he was willing to jump right back in for you. It warmed your heart, your belly, and well, every other part of you. You licked the underside of his cock before taking the tip of him into your mouth, very very slowly.

As you looked up, you could see his Adams Apple moving up and down in his long neck as he took in deep breaths. Though your mouth was beginning to be full, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “Stop,” He breathed, which surprised you. You paused, the tip of his cock pressed on the inside of your cheek. “I won’t last long if you keep doing that.”

You popped him out of your mouth with an audible sound. He did always have a thing for your mouth. He never lasted that long when you gave him a blowjob. Besides, you felt the need to have him inside of you.

You rose yourself up, meeting him in a kiss, his tongue flicking out to meet yours. You greeted it with a moan as his hand found his way back to your breast, rubbing it, showing off how it really did fit perfectly in his hand. He lifted your leg with his other hand, hoisting it up so that he was in the perfect place to thrust into you, though he did have to bend his knees ever so slightly. Damn his tall and lanky frame. You clutched onto his shoulders as you finally felt him penetrate into you. You gasped into the heat of his skin, the water rolling down your back. This was the best stress relief you could imagine after such a long day at work. His lips were working at yours, then at your jaw, then at your neck. His hand wouldn’t leave your breast while the other one kept you steady, ensuring that you wouldn’t fall. Despite the slipperiness of the floor, you felt safe with him.

Having already orgasmed once, it was easy for him to slip on in, and there was none of the soreness that being dry usually brought. As he thrust in, all of the way for the first time that night, you felt the ache of need - the need to cum again, the need to bring him to that point too. You hopped up while he was still inside you, wrapping your legs around his waist. He did stumble just a little, his back hitting the shower wall, but he supported you still, making sure that you didn’t fall. “Oh god,” He mumbled into your hair.

“Yes, Andrew,” You hissed in response, using your thigh muscles to bind yourself to him, bringing yourself up and then down. He was holding onto you as if his life depended on it. The heat of the room was unbelievable, and you didn’t know what was sweat and what was water.

The second orgasm took over your body, making you shudder then freeze in place as it racked over your body. Your nails dug into Andrew’s skin, breaking it ever so slightly but he didn’t feel it at all. He came as soon as he felt that you were, spurting his seed deep inside of you. It wasn’t the first time that he had released in you, and it was sure not to be the last. Being caught in the heat of the moment and not thinking about protection had become a common theme in your relationship.

You met in another deep kiss, as he slowly helped you to get your feet on the ground. “God, how I love you, Andrew Garfield,” You said, leaning your tired body against his chest, hearing his heartbeat thudding through the skin. He enveloped you in a hug, rocking back and forth slightly.

“And I love you, y/n,” He said, breathing out shakily. “And we both need this shower now, I think.”

“I agree,” You laughed, reaching for the knob and turned the temperature down so it was cool, almost like pool water. It was refreshing, compared to the near-lava temperature that it had been earlier. “I needed that.”

“I know,” He said, smiling cheekily, as always. He picked up your loofa, your favorite color, and squirted your favorite body wash onto it, then lathered it up. “Want me to get your back?”

“You’re a godsend.”

#Andrew Garfield #Andrew Garfield x reader #Andrew Garfield oneshot #celebrity #celebrity oneshot #oneshots #request #andrewg

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jessiebanethedragon · 3 years

Text

Commander?

Summary: Reader ('Mech') Is a member of CT-9904's unit and is sent to Ryloth instead of fighting with the insurgents. If only either of them could figure out why he made that call...

basically empire Crosshair is falling in love with the reader and is fighting with the chip's influence, the reader is falling as well. This is what happens when she see's the aftermath of the engine injuries.

Warnings: the reader gets choked, but not like in that way, reader is mean to crosshair, crosshair is mean to reader (ie neither of them know how feelings work)

Ryloth is grossly humid, you hate the way it feels with your plastoid armor on. The dark colour of it and your blacks underneath certainly don’t help either. And the fact that you’re still seething over your delegation has your teeth so clenched it hurts. Senator Taa is driving you insane as well, the fact that you’re playing the part that any trooper could be is driving you insane.

You didn’t get the nickname Mech for nothing. The modified electrostaff that hangs on your hip is evidence of that. The pop of your knuckles out of boredom has Syndulla and his clone looking at you.

“Something to say? Admiral Rampart asks with a glare. The kind that makes you stand straighter and fall in formation. When an answer doesn’t come from behind your helmet he sighs before adding. “You’re dismissed.”

Back in your sorry excuse for barracks, your armor is thrown against the wall. Starting with the stuffy helmet, the sound it makes when it hits the stone isn’t enough to satisfy your anger. So as you strip off each piece of the remaining plastoid it too, meets the interior of the Ryloth cave.

Screw him. Screw your commander. Screw the nerf herding Clone that sent you here. You hate him, you hate the way he speaks to you. Like he’s always looking for a weakness. You hate being here playing guard dog while they chase down the insurgents. And what you hate the most is the insecurity that lingers in your mind.

Why didn’t he think I was good enough?

You were the only one left behind, the only one sent to Ryloth ahead of time. Perhaps for one too many snarky comments. Perhaps because he doubted your abilities.

You’re so angry you go as far as striping out of the empire regulated blacks and into your civilian clothes. Which largely consists of your old baggy tactical pants that are so worn down the hues of your favorite colour are faded. But you still stuff the pants into your combat boots anyways. The top is less top-like and more like a piece of fabric that is long enough to turn into some kind of thing resembling clothing. It’s not exactly high Naboo fashion, but it’s a hell of a lot less warm than your kriffing armor.

You take to fixing the scope of his sniper rifle. You’re tempted to leave it broken, Maker knows how it happened in the first place. But you’re desperate for a distraction, a challenge, anything to take away the sting of being left behind. It gets fixed all too quickly, and you have to resort to tinkering with the calibrations in order to pass the time.

The door opens with a whoosh and the Commander and the rest of your team find you lounging with your feet up, scope in hand looking positively annoyed. Everyone tenses when you lazily get up, and walk over to them without saluting.

“That doesn't look like your uniform to me.” He says, the anger crackling through the helmet. And while everyone else has taken their helmets off, you can see them hesitate.

“Well considering the planet's demilitarizing, it didn’t look like it needed a commando to me.” You snap, the week of annoyance coming to fruition all at once.

“What did you just say to me?” He asks, stepping closer and bunching his fists. Your hand goes to your electrostaff, and his to his blaster. Weighing your options, you decide not to sign your death warrant today. Instead you reach into your pocket and grab the newly fixed scope. Not passing up the change to shove it into his chest.

The second your hand collides with the pastoid he moves like lightning. The scope clatters to the ground adding to the noises of surprise that your comrades make. Some of them move to help you, but think better of it. By the time your brain catches up your back has already hit the wall, a durasteel hand around your neck.

“Apologise.” He grits out. The green visor burning out your retina, and your hands scratching at his vambrace. You splutter around the hand, and he lets up a little. Just a little. The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say the two simple words.

“I take it you failed to catch them then?” You say instead. And the hand tightens again, making you slap his forearms, he doesn't let up and somewhere your brain registers someone gasping:

“He’s going to kill Mech!” And with that, you collide with the floor. One hand bracing yourself and keeping you off the actual ground, and the other cradling the tender skin.

“You three. Out.” He snaps, and the sounds of footsteps rush out the door. Looking up at the Commander, you see the helmet watch your comrades hustle out, before he moves further into the barracks. Collecting a jug of water and a singular cup. Clutching both in one hand, he uses his other to haul you up. Still gasping you try to struggle.

“Calm down.” He says plainly. “I’m not going to hurt you”

“I think you understand why I'm not inclined to believe that.” You wheeze out, as he leads you to one of the beds and makes you sit on it. Before pouring water into the cup, and hesitantly handing it to you.

“Drink.” he barely gets the word out before you’re snatching the substance from him and gulping it down. You cover yourself in it but you don't really care. Pausing to catch your breath again, the fog begins to clear.

“No toothpick?” You mean to tease, but when you ask he walks away from you. That's when you catch it. There’s a piece of his armor that's discoloured from the rest. Not so much that it needed replacing, but enough for you to notice. “Commander?” You ask, and watch him shake his head ever so slightly. Only turning back when he hears you get up and stagger towards him.

“Sit back down. You’re injured.” He winces slightly at the sentence. Almost like there's a part of him that hates himself for hurting you. Funnily enough it's the same part that convinced him not to let you on that mission.

“I think you are too.” You admit softly. “Let me see.” You push. And he grumbles and mumbles before taking his helmet off.

His hair has been shaved off - even shorter than it was before. But that's not what catches your eye. What you stare at is the gaping injury on the back left side of his head. And the way he scrunches his nose and turns away shows you something you’ve never seen from him before.

Fragility, fear, embarrassment and maybe a multitude of other emotions fly across his face. When he opens his mouth to say something your brain kicks into gear.

“Sit down. Let me tend to it.” You demand. He tries to protest.

“That's not-” “Just let me see it.”

“I’m fine-” “You need bacta.” You’re still trying to lead him into sitting down, and he tries to argue more before finally giving in.

“I was cleared from the medbay you know.” He grumbles, and part of your soul does cartwheels when he listens to you and does actually sit down. And you almost like to think you’re the only person who he does listen to.

There aren't nearly enough bacta strips to double wrap the area like you wanted, but it’ll do until you can restock at a proper Imperial medbay.

This isn’t the first time you’ve been this close to each other, and it isn’t even the first time you’ve touched the commander's face. The first and only other time was in the depths of space. Everyone else was passed out in exhaustion after mission after mission. But you two, neither of you could sleep. And you could see the scrunch in his brow of anxiety and pent up adrenalin. And somehow, some miracle happened and after much convincing, you sat on the floor of some hallway, and he let you rub calming circles into his temple. You can still feel the way his hands held onto your forearms gently, like he was afraid you’d hurt him, or maybe he was afraid you wouldn't hurt him. Or maybe, just maybe, he had wanted to hold you.

“I should’ve been there.” You whisper while dressing the wound. It probably looks worse than it is but guilt is still eating you alive.

“You were where you needed to be.” He states. Taking his gloves off while you move from behind, to beside him as you finish with the bacta. Still analysing the wound and the rest of his face. He almost wants to smile, they didn’t call you Mech for nothing.

“Why did you send me away?” You ask. Closing your eyes when you feel a hand come up and caress your face. It's so gentle it’s almost like it's not there at all. Your heart feels like it's exploding with each beat. Why did this always happen between the two of you, why were you like magnets for each other.

And why did he always have to push you away after?

“I’m sorry,” He tells you when he grazes over your neck. “For that,” another swipe of a gentle hand. “But not for sending you here. Evidently I made the right call.” Fingers rest under your chin, tilting it up. When your eyes open, his are finding the part of you that you worked so hard to bury.

“You should be. It kriffing hurts.” You try to joke, to hide your feelings. But it comes out dry and cracked, a reminder of his anger moments ago.

“You learned your lesson then.” He snaps. And yet, the hand that goes to your hair is still gentle.

“Don’t leave me behind again commander. Or it’ll be the last time you see me.” It’s not a threat, but his eyes darken as if it is one.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” He hisses.

“Good thing we’re commandos then.” You shoot back. He closes his eyes and sighs, his hand leaving your face. It takes something with it, and you feel at a loss. One of your hands travels the regulated blanket that you’re sitting on, like it’s subconsciously searching for him.

Instead, he stands up and walks away.

“You should be resting.” You grumble at him, also standing up, if only to cross your arms in annoyance.

“I was cleared from the medbay.” He repeats himself, reaching for his helmet, ready to block you out again.

“Those droids clear out anything with a pulse. You need time to heal.” Hesitantly, you pad over to him, your hand stopping his when he goes to put the helmet on again. As if on instinct his other hand goes to your throat. But he stops himself when he sees the marks from before.

“This isn’t allowed.” He whispers, bucket hitting the floor. His hand moves onto your waist like a different person is in control of his motions. “I’m sorry.” He says again, fixated on the markings on your neck.

“It’s okay.” You tell him, moving closer. Sighing into his hold and the cool armor on hot skin. Looking up at your commander with blinking eyes. If someone was to walk in now, you’d most likely be executed, or exiled at the very least. But it doesn't stop his bare hands from moving, one on your hip where skin meets skin outside of imperial rules, regulation and armour. The other goes to your face again. Why does he like it so much? What is it about your face that is addictive? He tries to imagine a different face, a different person having this effect on him.

He can’t.

“No.” He says against your lips when they almost touch. And you tremble in rejection, a blank face covers the part of you that's crying. You’re so close to him, to something real, something other than war efforts or the Galactic Empire. You ignore him, and try to lean forward again, but the hand in your hair moves to place two fingers of your lips and push you back. And you know he feels your lips stutter and breath hitch as you contain a cry. His hands leave you completely as he steps away and puts his helmet back on.

“Shame.” You say bitterly, and you’re not proud of what happens next. Maybe you’re too smart, maybe you shouldn’t have read his file when you hacked into the database to find those chain codes. Maybe you shouldn’t have let him hurt you first.

“I liked seeing your tattoo.” You add, watching the helmet glare at you. “It’s a Crosshair, right?”

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divine-mistake · 3 years

Text

The Cracks in Our Reality (2)

Summary: Loki hates the Executive Manager of the Avengers Tower because she’s too loud and too sarcastic and too kind and too soft, especially to him, who really doesn’t deserve it.

Characters: Loki/Plus-sized (f)Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut), language, mentions of sex

A/N: Thanks for reading! You guys have been so incredible with your support on JUST the first chapter! I won't leave you hanging. Updates weekly on Saturday.

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Playlist

“You’re incredible. A life saver. A genuine Mother Teresa. God is a woman.”

You wave him off, draining the last of the tea from your to-go cup.

“You know, if you keep talking like that, you’re just going to fuel my god complex.”

Mike from Accounting grins at this, shuffling the paperwork you handed off to him only moments before. It was sloppily done, the forms filled out in a hurry as soon as the accounting department called you. They were always having problems with the books—half of that was Tony’s outrageous spending, the other half was the neverending damages the Avengers kept ringing up on the metaphorical receipt.

You didn’t even work in finance, but someone had to get the job done, and who better to do it than the Executive Manager of the Tower?

“Well, I don’t know about this god complex, but can I buy you another coffee for your trouble?”

Mike’s cute. He’s slim, brunet, has glasses that sit a little crooked on his nose. You bet he’s just a little kinky in the bedroom. Like, doggy style is his flavor, and maybe a slap or two on the ass in the throes of passion. He’s cute, but he’s not that cute, and it’s not like he’s asking you on a date or anything.

You flash him your Signature Smile. “I really shouldn’t have any more caffeine, but thanks for the offer. You don’t owe me anything.”

Then, you slide off his desk, heels clacking on the ugly tiling that covers the accounting department’s floor. With a shimmy, you adjust your pencil skirt from where it’s ridden up your thighs, hands fluttering down your silk dress shirt to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. Then, you twirl around to look back at him.

He leans his elbow on his desk, chin in his palm, as he looks over you. “Next time then.”

You give him a mock salute. “Have a good rest of your day!” Then you’re strutting off toward the elevator, content to head back up to your office and get the rest of your work down.

From behind you, Mike from Accounting shouts, “Thanks again!”

The elevator shuts, already on its way back up.

It’s nothing new, really. The bouncing around, the extra work, the pulling overtime to get someone else’s work done for them when they’re overwhelmed. The hurried finance forms aren’t anything new—and in a month or two, Mike from Accounting will be calling you again, asking for you to redo the forms that someone else fucked up.

It’s what you’re paid to do. Kinda.

By the time the elevator doors are opening to the main floor, you’re already swiping through the schedules for the week on your tablet. A thread of annoyance is tugging at the back of your neck, a twinge of pain in your muscles from being too tense, too stressed. Your feet are already killing you, toes squished in the stylish heels you decided to wear last minute because you swore you’d be cooped up in your office all day reorganizing the schedules and making room for the press conference.

The press conference for stupid Loki Odinson, whose doing his community service as a probationary Avenger. Stupid fucking Tony Stark, who didn’t tell you that Loki Odinson, the God who tried to take over New York, was coming to stay at the Tower. Stupid fucking Steve Rogers, who tried to tell a little white lie about “forgetting” to mention it. Hah! You’d whipped his ass for that last night, giving him The Look until he finally broke and told you the truth—that Tony made him agree to not tell you.

Oh, and you’d put Tony on blast for that, too. The conversation ended with him promising you a day trip to the spa and a shopping spree for all his bullshit, not that you’d be accepting it. You really just liked to watch him sweat.

And stupid fucking Bucky Barnes for still being away on his solo mission.

Okay, but really you’re pissed at Loki because you’d tried to be nice to him and bring him dinner after you noticed he hadn’t eaten, and you brought him some extra blankets because Thor told you about his whole heritage deal and you don’t really know anything about frost giants, but maybe Loki doesn’t like being cold like a frost giant. And the motherfucker had the audacity to pull a knife on you. You’re sure he hates you because you most certainly hate him.

You stop in the middle of the hallway, finger pressed against the screen of your tablet. Everything around you is quiet. The common room is empty and the sanctuary that is your office is only a few more steps away. The light of day spreads through the Tower, spilling out from the floor-to-ceiling windows and making everything warm. You shiver despite it.

You don’t hate Loki Odinson.

He’s an asshole, sure, but from what you’ve heard from Thor, the dude hasn’t had it easy. And you know, somewhere deep down, you should be a little more gentle with him. He’s not the first person to pull a knife on you when you’ve sneaked up on them. You’re used to that.

You should know better than to bark back at a caged animal.

As soon as you enter your office, you kick your heels off underneath your desk and slouch into the comfort of your leather chair. Despite the temperature, your fingers are cold and stiff—they ache slightly when you pick up a pen to sketch out the new schedules. You lean your head back and groan.

Every time you cross-check someone’s schedule with another, you curse Tony’s name. By the time you have three sticky notes on your free hand reminding you of appointments that need to be moved around, you’re calling him unsavory names that don’t make any sense when spoken aloud, but they sure make you feel better.

Natasha comes knocking just as you’re mumbling about Tony’s lifelike resemblance to the stale ends of sliced bread, and when you look up to greet her, your desk is covered in a sea of brightly-colored notes with varying degrees of importance, noted by the multiple—or lack thereof—exclamation points on each.

“Hey,” you greet with a sigh.

She leans over your desk and reaches for your face. You flinch until she rips something off your cheek, the barest hint of a burn as the sticky note you’d somehow lost a few minutes ago pulls your peach fuzz.

“Hey,” she mimics, reading the note. “Looks like I’m not having that photoshoot on the 8th.”

“Don’t get me started!” you whine, snatching the reminder back. Thanks to the sticky notes still attached to your fingers, you don’t get enough traction to yank it back, but Natasha takes pity on you and smacks it onto a free surface.

But it’s enough to make her laugh, and that fact puts a smile back on your face.

“You scheduled the press conference already?” she asks, grabbing one of the plastic chairs Steve made you keep in your office after he came to have lunch with you once and had to stand while chowing down on his salad.

“Of course.” You huff, peeling your fingers free. “Now I’m just dealing with the damages. Mr. I’m-So-Great-I-Can-Do-No-Wrong-Stark needed it scheduled pronto, something about Fury and a compromise and ‘the trust of the citizens.’”

Natasha nods, eyes scanning over some of the reminders. “I didn’t realize schedules were so damn complicated.”

“It’s why they pay me the big bucks,” you joke, hands threading through your hair to pull it away from your face. The gentle tug on your scalp feels soothing. “It’s overly complicated because there’s so many of you, and I have to cross-reference everything to make sure nothing clashes, plus mission scheduling, and all of you have routines that I take into account.”

She whistles, and it flips a switch in your brain.

“I’m not complaining,” you say quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal. It’s not even hard. I just have to spend the rest of today making some calls to move everything around and then the schedules will be right again. It’s easy.”

“ Zaika,” she calls gently. Natasha is only ever gentle when the two of you are behind closed doors. “It’s not an easy job. That’s why Tony hired you—you’re the best there is at this stuff.”

You shrug at the red-head. “I’m decent at it.”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “You’re the only one who ever goes above and beyond to take care of us, y’know.”

“Well you should be taken care of. You’re always taking care of humanity or doing whatever else you Russian spies do.”

She cracks a grin at that and you can’t help but do the same.

“Damn straight.” As you pull up a list of press contacts to start calling, Natasha looks down at her watch. “It’s past lunchtime and I bet you haven’t eaten yet,” she says with a knowing glance. You have enough decency to pretend like you don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Are you asking me on a date, Nattie?” You bat your eyes at her.

“No way, we’re going dutch.”

“Dutch is a date.”

“No, it’s not, and if you’re going dutch on your dates you need to tell me who the hell is taking you out because I want to speak to them.”

With a flick of your wrist, you toss a couple of takeout menus across the desk to her. “Chill out. It’s not like I’ve been on a real date in the past—”

The shrill bell tones of your phone interrupt you and your knees clatter painfully into your desk as you jump from the sound. You lunge for where it’s hidden under a thick binder full of finance notes you used earlier, pressing it to your ear immediately.

And once again, you’re lost in the whirlwind of your job.

As the man on the other side rants about some minuscule problem he’s having with an upcoming interview scheduled for Sam Wilson—something about a security issue, and now you’re dreading broaching the topic of changing the date—you vaguely gesture at Natasha to leave. It’s unlikely you’ll be taking a lunch break today.

She gives you the Evil Eye, the look where she purses her lips like an irritated mother and draws her eyebrows together in a way that screams about you being irresponsible. In the end, she stands and starts to head out the door, but not before turning to give you one last disappointed glare.

Natasha points two fingers to her eyes and flicks them in your direction: I’m watching you.

Then she’s gone, closing your office door behind you, leaving you to put your phone on speaker so you can massage your aching temples where a headache is beginning to bloom.

It’s one in the morning and you’re shoveling the boiling hot ramen you just microwaved down your gullet like a starved man, standing in the darkness of the kitchen to hide your shameful dinner when the lights flicker on overhead and suddenly, you’re frozen. Your eyes must be bugging out of your head when you look at whoever just caught you slurping up the remnants of the first meal you’ve had in hours.

And of course, it’s the blond-haired blue-eyed babe of a God who strides in, looking nothing but chipper until he sees you leaned against the counter, dressed only in a frumpy t-shirt and threadbare pajama shorts, feet bare and cold. To top it off, you know there is soup on your chin. You just know it.

“My lady!” he booms and you wince, hoping he doesn’t wake the whole ass tower up with his projection. “Why did you not join us all for dinner earlier? Stark provided pizza!”

You shrug, hiding your face in your bowl of noodles. “I was busy, and even if I wasn’t, you know I’m not a fan of pizza.”

He frowns and it looks so funny on his normally cheery face, almost like it pains him to say what he’s about to say. He takes a step toward you.

“My lady,” he says lowly, “I do not know anything of the sort. Anyone who claims to not love the grand Midgardian pizza is either lying, or they are my enemy.”

You snort. “I don’t like Pop-Tarts either and you know that, too.”

Thor shakes his head, slaps his big hand upon his big chest, and buckles his knees like a dramatic fool. His other hand reaches out for your forearm as if he’s begging for you to save him from whatever untimely death he’s experiencing at your pickiness.

“Treason!” he shouts. “Lying to your king!”

You pull your arm away from him to shove another forkful of ramen into your awaiting mouth.

“Not my king,” you mumble, snickering under your breath. Thor wouldn’t understand that reference even if you tried to explain American politics to him.

When Thor finally decides enough is enough and whatever brought him into the kitchen is more important than annoying you, he passes by you and heads to the pantry. You can hear the crinkling of a foil package before he turns back to face you, and low and behold, there are three packages of Pop-Tarts in his grip.

Like the true king he is, he offers you a pack, giving you the most exaggerated eye roll in history when you shake your head at him.

It’s a comfortable silence that occupies the kitchen while you both chow down. You don’t speak to each other, don’t look at one another, just enjoy the company and the orchestra of chewing and slurping and the gentle sounds of the tower at night. By the time you’ve finished off your bowl, placing it into the sink quietly, Thor’s demolished his snack and is brushing crumbs from his comfy red sweatshirt.

You waggle your fingers at him in a half-hearted wave, but Thor grabs your hand in his own. His palm engulfs yours. You swallow back whatever words seemed to think they could slither out from between your lips as you look at how gently he cradles you.

When you look up at him, his eyes are soft.

“I am sorry,” he says as if you should know what he means.

“For what?”

His gaze turns to the floor, almost ashamed. “For Loki.”

“Oh, Thor.” You don’t hesitate to pull your hand away from his in order to wrap your arms around his neck, stretching up on your tiptoes. “You don’t have to be sorry for your brother. He has to apologize for himself. It’s not your fault.”

He had felt terrible when you told him what happened the other night, although you definitely left key parts out of the story you recounted to him. Thor had apologized then, too, even with the absence of the dagger in the story, but you told him you understood what Loki must be feeling right now, that you understood he needed time to warm up. Unwillingly, Thor accepted that you were letting the incident slide, but really, what were you going to do? Get Loki chained up again? Cut off his magic?

Yeah, ‘cause that would totally help him mesh with the cool kids.

After a long moment, you feel Thor’s arms tighten around your waist, hands pressing into the small of your back as he bends to accommodate your height. Or maybe it’s to get closer to you, to press further into you. Like the soft puppy he is, you stroke the back of his head, nails scratching over his scalp lightly.

“He’s better than this,” Thor whispers. “I want him to be better than this.”

You think about all the things you could say, but none of them sound right. The soft-hearted side of you says to tell him that everyone deserves second and third and fourth chances, that he and Loki both have their issues they need to work on if they ever want to work on their relationship. The jaded side of you says that no one gets second chances in this world. Second chances only open the door to a second betrayal—a second chance to be hurt. Chances never bring change.

“He needs time,” you finally say, but you don’t know if you believe your own words. “You both need time to heal.”

It’s not the first time someone’s pulled a knife on you before, and you know better, but you aren’t sure if you know for better or for worse.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @poetic-fiasco @suffocatinglypositive @melancholic-metanoia @lucywrites02 @delightfulheartdream @its-bucky-barnes-bitch @mochminnie @httpjazel @sciamachy-after-dusk @girl-obsessed-with-things

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki love #avengers loki #plus size reader #redemption loki #loki fanfic #the cracks in our reality #loki pov #loki series #thanks for supporting me!

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jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-The Sun And The Moon- Luna Lovegood x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: My favorite girl, i’m also using the headcanon where Draco and Luna are cousins because i can.

Movie/Show: Harry Potter, ignoring the storyline, and the fact the weasley twins would have graduated already.

House/Year: Ravenclaw / 7th year

Summary: You and Luna had been together since you were both 14, with you being the more aggressive one in the relationship while Luna let things go rather quick. Luna always calmed you down enough to not blow up on people when they messed with her, but one comment pushes you over.

Possible Triggers/Warnings: if you think girls being with other girls is gross, get the hell off my page, slight Hermione slander, cursing, the fluff, Draco being a cool cousin,

☼-☪-☼

“I know your awake” Luna spoke, continuing to poke your face with her finger. “No i’m not” you respond, turning on your side, so you weren’t facing her anymore, hearing her disappointed whine as you did so. After a couple seconds of silence, you feel Luna poke your back.

“It’s pudding day. I know you're tired, but can you come with me to get some?” she says. Sometimes you wished you could say no to the girl, but it was impossible, it’s Luna were talking about here. Opening your eyes, you lay back on your back, looking up at Luna who was sitting up on the bed.

“Fine, but i’m not changing” you say, her lips turning upwards into her sweet smile. Cute. “That’s fine, i’ll grab our shoes” she says, pushing out the bed and going over to where you kept your shoes. It was a saturday so you did not feel like changing out of your comfortable pajamas.

getting up as well, you walk over to the long mirror that hung by your desk. Yeah, you looked like you gave zero fucks today, wearing a plain black graphic t-shirt and black sweats. While combing through your hair with your fingers, Luna stands behind you, her dirty blond hair all messed up.

“Hi” you say casually, like she had just walked in. Luna smiles and stands beside you, shaking her head a bit as she quite enjoyed the messy hair look. After that she wipes off her blue t-shirt and light grey sweats “Ready” Luna spoke and you nod, turning away from the mirror.

you both grab your shoes and slip them on. Luna puts on her red plaid converse and you just put on a plain black pair. After your laces were tied, you grabbed her hand and left the comfort of your dorm room for the glorious pudding that your more glorious girlfriend required.

☼-☪-☼

the great hall, seven minutes later

some students were sitting at tables, most likely not in their perspective house, because it was seven in the morning and no one wanted to be alive at the moment. Luna on the other hand looked like a first year who had just walked into honeydukes.

“Let’s sit next to Fred” Luna says, not giving you a second to answer as she pulls you, by your hand to the Gryffindor table. Luna plops down into the seat, next to Fred, while you took a seat beside her. Fred looked over at the both of you and smiled “Morning you two, didn’t think you get up”

“It’ pudding day” you say and with those few words Fred understood right away “Ah yes, pudding day. A lovely tradition” George cuts in, laughing along with his twin. Luna chuckles before scooping the chocolate desert into a bowl, a happy smile upon her face.

maybe getting out of bed wasn’t so bad afterall

you watch as Luna stuffed her face with pudding, which mde your heart warm a bit “You’ll surely get sick if you eat all of that” and the cuteness was over. You turn your head slightly, facing the Gryffindor girl, Hermione Granger “Good thing it isn’t your call then, huh?” you say back, giving her a dead stare.

continuing your unblinking gaze for a few seconds, it weirds Hermione out enough until she scoffs and turns back to her previous conversation. You had nothing against Hermione Granger, she was a sweet girl with smarts beyond you, but she had a little habit.

that habit being sticking her nose into other peoples business

on any other day you two would get along like any other good friends, but she always had to let you know her opinion even if you didn’t want to hear it or if you were doing something she deemed unhealthy, dangerous, stupid, she would tell you every possible outcome and how your future children would be cursed.

something like that

anyway, Hermione just pissed you off sometimes, end of story- well not really. You assumed Luna had not heard what Hermione said as she continued to munch on her food, which meant you went back to oddling her all while George and Fred made fun of you for doing so.

☼-☪-☼

courtyard, three hours later

“What about that one?” you say, pointing to the blue butterfly illustrated on the page. Luna smiles, running her thumb over the picture. “That’s the blue morpho butterfly, there so beautiful, but there only found in Latin America like Mexico or Colombia”

nodding long, you listened as she ranted on about the particular butterfly “Sounds like i have to take you to Mexico one day” you say, reaching your arm around her shoulder. Luna looks at you, her bright greyish blue eyes twinkingly “Really?” she had one of the brightest smiles you had ever seen.

you couldn’t help but grin back at her, leaning forward to kiss the side of her hair, catching the calming lavender scent she wore. “Of course, just need to graduate of course” you remind her. Luna nods before looking back at her book, flipping to another page.

“Hello”

looking up, your met with the platinum blond ‘Slytherin prince’, Draco Malfoy. He was by myself, which was usual and he took a seat in the grass, in front of you both “Malfoy” you greeted him and he nodded in your direction “L/n” he replied in the same formal tone.

then he looked at Luna and they both smiled at each other. Should probably mention that the both of them were distant cousins. Draco found out while digging through old family records a couple years ago and was surprisingly happy to have someone who wasn’t stuck up be blood related to him.

ever since then Draco would hang out with both of you when his friends weren’t available. You had always known Draco as a rude and crude boy, but after watching him and Luna interact just showed you he was alone and needed family, one that didn’t judge him.

you and Malfoy naturally became close as well, considering you and Luna were together long before he figured out they were related. He jokingly called you his future sister in law, which didn’t make much sense if you thought about it long enough, but whatever.

Luna liked him, but then again Luna saw the good in everyone and everything. You were afraid her optimism would get her hurt, you even voiced those concerns at one point, multiple times actually, but Luna would say the same thing each time.

‘your always there, so what do i have to worry about?’

“What are you reading?” Draco asked, leaning in to look at the cover of the book. Luna lifts it up from her lap so the title is visible “Butterfly encyclopedia?” he read aloud, his eyebrows furrowing at the words while Luna’s face lit up “Yes! i put a bookmark for one i think you might like”

Luna leant forward, pushing away from you so she could lay the book onto the grass, the place on your arm where she laid her head turned cold instantly as well. Luna flipped through the pages vigorously until she stopped on a page that had a pressed flower between the folds.

“What’re you all doing out here?”

and there she was. You look up at Hermione, giving her a two finger salute “Relaxing” you reply “and reading about butterflies, would you like to know the one i picked for you, Hermione?” Luna adds, holding up the book while Draco avoiding speaking to the Gryffindor entirely.

he was actually writing down the name of the butterfly Luna picked out for him. Hermione gives her a polite smile and shakes her head “No i have more important things to do, no offense of course” she says and Luna smiles before turning back to Draco

that was the most backhanded shit you ever heard

after that Hermione looked at you and waved her hand, signalling you to come over to her. You exhale deeply and push off the ground, pressing a kiss to Luna’s hair before walking to Hermione. She leads you a few feet away before turning to face you, planting her feet in the grass.

“Have you or Luna studied for your N.E.W.T’s at all this month?” she asked, her head tilting as if she was analyzing your posture. “Yeah we did a week ago, we were supposed to this morning but-” before you could explain yourself, not that it was any of her business, she cut you off.

“Too busy sleeping in, eating an unhealthy amount of pudding, reading pointless books on butterflies, walking around in your pjs, or hanging out with that git Malfoy” she suggested. You swore your eye visibly twitched at her statement.

“No” you started with bit more attitude then you wanted to add, crossing your arms over your chest “Luna was sleep walking, she almost made it into the forbidden forest, so i stayed up all night patching up her feet and watching her.” the way Hermione’s face fell almost made you double over in laughter right there.

but she wasn’t going to back down easily “Then you seriously need to study, i have a group set up for tonight” she says, a prideful smile decorating her freckled cheeks. “Sorry, but i’m studying tonight with Draco and his friends in the Slytherin house” you couldn’t help but grin.

“Why would you even bother with him, he’s a no good bully” she questions and she was kinda right, but Draco dulled on his bullying years ago when he met Luna and yourself “Because he’s Luna’s cousin and my friend” you say, you swore you have repeated these words back to her a million times already.

“Now i have to go, see you later Granger” you wave your hand lazily before going back over to your small group. Draco looked up, taking a glance behind you. He snorts, shaking his head “What’s up her ass?” he asked, making you smile.

“The usual”

he nods “I’m still a bad influence, huh” he said, mostly to himself “I don’t think your a bad influence, Draco” Luna reassures him, making him smile. That was actually really cute. After a couple seconds of silence the Slytherin boy looks between both you and Luna more than once.

“You two are nothing alike”

his comment caught you by surprise, so you just nervously laugh “We have some things in common” you say, trying to defend your relationship of course. Draco notices, beginning to laugh a bit “Not like that, i mean that you both have different personalities, but my mold well together”

now curious, you wave your hand, gesturing him to continue his explanation.

“It’s like the sun and the moon, Y/n you're all hot headed and very opinionated, definitely not afraid to speak those said opinions either, but at the end of the day the sun comes down and the moon comes up, which would be Luna, quiet with a calming glow” Draco said, pulling apart a piece of grass.

☼-☪-☼

hogsmeade, the next day

the study group with the Slytherins was more pleasant than you expected, you actually liked hanging out with Pansy, she was a cool chick. Anyway, now you and Luna were walking around hogsmeade wondering what to do. Luna wore a multi-colored sweater with bright blue pants and her usual red plaid shoes.

super cute

you on the other hand wore something a little darker like a black and grey flannel, black pants with a matching shirt- well it was going to be a shirt until Luna surprised you with a lace tank top that showed a bit of your stomach, your weren’t super comfortable as you liked clothes that covered you up.

but you could always button up your flannel if it bothered you that much

“Where are we going again?” you ask, completely forgetting what she had said minutes ago. “Madam Puddifoot's for tea” Luna said, walking alongside you. You nod “Ah yes, tea. Didn’t Madam Puddifoot tell you she didn’t have tea with Gnome Saliva?” you remind her.

Luna smiles, at what you don’t know but chose not to question it nonetheless “My dad sent me some last week, so all i have to do is add it myself” she explains “So that’s what those vials were in my chest” you connect the dots as Luna laughs.

“Were here”

looking up, you saw the pink wood and grey stone shop. You could see the small cakes on display, in front of the glass. You would have to get a couple of those- for research purposes of course. You stepped in front of Luna so you could pull the door open for her.

she smiles and steps inside, you following after her. The smell of the shop was just as delightful as you remember and slightly overwhelming at the same time. As you expected there were multiple couples on dates, or casually- not so casually making out. Gross.

(i’m guessing her personality as i don’t want to spoil myself for Hogwarts Mystery, hope you understand)

“Miss Luna and Miss Y/n, how are you this evening?” Madam Puddifoot spoke from behind the counter, you look to your left to meet the gaze of the black haired older woman, giving her a polite smile “Were doing just fine, just here to pick up some loose herbal tea”

Madam Puddifoot nods and turns around to seemingly pick up those packets for you. As you and Luna wait for a moment, your eyes wander to out the window to the shop across the Teashop. Across the tacky little shop was a darker colored store, a sign reading ‘Fine Jewelry’.

“I’m going to check something out, will you be alright alone?” you say, slowly tearing your gaze away from the shop. Luna looks up at you and nods, smiling lightly “Sure, yeah” she says, not minding at all. You smile and lean down to give her a quick kiss before letting go of her hand.

walking to the door, you push it open and walk out, closing it behind you. You look back, making sure Luna wasn’t watching you walk into the store and sped walked into the jewelry shop. It smelt fancy, if that made any sense. It was like expensive looking to say the least.

“Y/n?”

what a surprise, in front of you was Draco Malfoy along with his mates Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini. “Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, and Pansy” you say, smiling at the end. Pansy grins and raises her hand to give you a high five.

“I feel slightly betrayed. Anyway, what’re you doing in here, i thought i saw you with Luna like an hour ago?” Draco asked, tilting his head. You point behind you to the Teashop “She’s getting tea and cakes so i took the opportunity to look at rings”

Draco’s grey eyes widen a bit at your statement and you immediately knew where his mind went “Pump the brakes ferret, i’m getting a promise ring. I’m not proposing” you said quickly. Draco’s expression fell abit, causing his mates around him to laugh. “He just can’t wait to be a flower girl” Pansy commented.

“I would be a great flower boy” Draco portested, making you smile at the thought, but yeah he would. As they laughed amongst themselves you began to walk around the shop. Nothing seemed to interesting, Luna liked simple things and all of these were over the top.

even though you were looking for one single ring, you made your way over to the sets, they had rings for couples and poly couples, but you just stuck with couples. Nothing over there was catching your attention as well, until you got to the very end.

you instantly knew you needed those rings, it was just to perfect, That was until you saw the price which read ‘150 galleons’ fuck, you only had maybe 90 saved up back at your dorm and 20 in your bag on you. It was like the universe was taunting you.

backing away, you were ready to leave the shop defeated “Yeah i’ll take that set, the one for 150. Just bill it to Lucius Malfoy” Draco spoke. What the fuck. You look at him dumbfounded as the shopkeep got two black velvet boxes, putting each ring in it.

the older man gave Draco a smile “I hope that lucky girl appreciates it” he said. Draco nods “Oh i hope so” he says and walks over to you, handing you the two boxes. “you must really want to be a flower boy” you joked, making him chuckle. He nudges your shoulder with his hand “Yeah totally”

☼-☪-☼

once you were out the shop, your eyes were glued onto the boxes wondering how and when you should give it to Luna. While distracted you shoulder checked somebody walking by and not being a total asshole, you whip round to apologize.

“Oh Granger, sorry for bumping into you. I zoned out” you explain. Hermione gives you a polite smile. She was with Harry and Ron “Potter, Weasley. How are you?” you asked, not wanting them to think you were ignoring them or something.

“Just looking around, Ron already spent all his galleons on sweets” Harry says, smiling at the end. Ron whacks his friends shoulder, clearly betrayed by the outing of his sweet addiction. “Oh that’s alright, i think Luna is spending all hers on tea and cakes” you laugh.

both Ron and Harry laugh along with you while Hermione gives you a confused smile “Your not going to stop her?” she asked, no you were slightly confused as well. Shrugging your shoulder, you shake your head “I’m her girlfriend not her babysitter”

“Well of course, but shouldn’t you encourage her to save her galleons on more important things?” Hermione suggested and you understood her logic, but she was still budding into something that wasn’t her business....again. “It’s important to her, so no i’m not going to do that. Thank you for the suggestion though”

in that moment, she saw both ring boxes in your hand. Following her gaze, you shove the boxes into each of your flannel pockets “What are those?” she asked almost instantly “Stuff” you replied vaguely as an arm wrapped round your shoulder. Oh yeah Draco was still there.

“Let’s go get some butterbear, yeah?” he suggests as Theo, Blaise, and Pansy crowd around you two, like some protective friend circle. The Gryffindors did not like the presence of your Slytherin company .“Ooo butterbear sounds great” Luna smiles, when did she get here?

she comes up to your side, grabbing your hand, her paper bag in the other “Hello Hermione, Harry, Ron” she greets happily. She clearly didn’t notice the awkward tension that filled the air. Harry and Draco were glaring daggers at each other, have any of them blinked?

“How bout you and Luna come hang out with us?” Hermione offered, but was shut down by Parkinson “Yeah they’ll pass. Thanks though” Pansy gave her a pouty condescending smile. Oh shit. Luna seemed to sense something was off now and shook her head “We have a study group after butternear, maybe another time?”

“I-” Hermione started but Draco turned around, holding onto your shoulder “Don’t be a sore loser Granger” he said before you all walked away, leaving the Gryffindor’s in your metaphorical dust.

☼-☪-☼

the halls of hogwarts, a week later

the Hermione problem progressively got worse, it was like she’d show up out of nowhere and bug you about everything. How Luna dressed, how she spent her money, how she spent her time, her zoning out, the sleepwalking and on and on and on and fucking on!

you were so annoyed and over giving her polite answers at this point, but you had to manage. As you walk out of charms you hear your name being called. Fuck. “Granger” you say, pursing your lips together into an annoyed smile. “Hello Y/n, i wanted to talk to you in private”

you look around, gesturing to the empty hall and continued to walk “Yes?” you say. Hermione leans in a bit, making you lean the other way. Boundaries much? “I saw the ring boxes” she confesses, well fuck. “Okay?” you said, wondering where this conversation was going.

“What your doing is a bad idea” she says with a disappointed look on her face, what was she? Your mother? “Excuse me?” you said, slightly offended at her weird choice of words. “You can't just run off and elope, you have responsibilities here Y/n”

oh, this is hilarious

“Hermione, first of all they are promise rings, not engagement rings. Second of all, it’s none of your concern what i do with my life” you said, rather harshly while jabbing your finger at her chest. She seemed weirded out by what you were doing.

she swats your hand away “You know you are so rude! I’m only trying to help!” she says, trying to defend herself but you just laugh bitterly. “I don’t want your fucking help Hermione!” you shout back. A small crowd started to gather as the halls were filling up with students leaving class.

“It’s not my fault you and Luna are screw ups!” she shouts. Now, your mother always taught you to never use a spell on anyone unless they deserved it and you were positively sure she deserved it. You quickly pulled out your wand, but Hermione catches on, taking hers out as well.

“Expelliarmus!” you shout and her wand was blasted out her hand. Hermione looked disgusted with your behaviour “You are just a loony as Luna!” she yells at a last attempt. You raise your wand again, your mind running on autopilot. You didn’t even know what spell to use, but that didn’t matter.

all you knew was that you wanted to hurt her, but when your wand was grabbed from you, what were you to do now? Your head snapped towards the direction the pale hand came from and you were met with the worried eyes of Luna Lovegood.

the illusion had been broken, Luna now knew how Hermione really felt about her, but she felt as if she knew all along and ignored the possibility. She looked at Hermione, who had collected her wand form the floor, avoiding her gaze in shame.

Luna pursed her lips together before grabbing your hand, just like the million times before “Let’s go” she spoke quietly.

☼-☪-☼

astronomy tower, fifteen minutes later

the walk to the astronomy tower was silent, too silent. On any other day Luna would have been ranting about nargles, but she was too busy being lost in her mind while fiddling with her cork necklace. It started to worry you a bit, almost as if it was you who had done something wrong.

now you both were leaning on the railing, looking out at the castle grounds as the cold air blew against your face “What would you have done to Hermione if i hadn’t stopped you?” Luna asked, still not looking at you. You answered honestly “I don’t know”

“That’s not good, not knowing” Luna says before more silence filled the air “i know that people think i’m strange or loony. It doesn’t bother me as i like being strange or loony. If i wasn’t i wouldn’t be me” you felt her hand squeeze yours reassuringly “So why does it bother you?”

“because your my girlfriend, it’s like in the description to defend you, plus there assholes” you snear. Luna moves closer, leaning her head against your shoulder “i don’t want you to defend me anymore. I wouldn’t like seeing you get in trouble”

“It’s not that easy” you protest, but feel her shake her head “I’ll teach you my ways- ow!” she suddenly pulls away. You look at her, instantly thinking you had scratched her somehow “Are you okay?” you ask, looking at her exposed skin for any marks.

she laughs quietly “yes i’m fine, i think something poked my through your robe” she says, rubbing her side. You laugh along with her until you realized what had poked her. The box- well boxes. Should you? Was it the right time? fuck it.

“Uh- actually. I have something for you- for us?” you say and reach into the inside pocket of your uniform. Luna looked curious “For us? How peculiar.” she teases, making you roll your eyes. You pull out both of the boxes, one had the first initial one her name and the other had the first initial of yours.

Luna’s eyes widened upon looking at the boxes “i’m not proposing!” you say before she could speak a word and a look of relief washed over her face “Okay” she breathed out. You hold out her box, but she takes yours instead “What-” “I want to see yours first, so i can put it on you and vise versa”

your heart couldn’t handle it

smiling brightly, you nod “Okay” you watch as she opens your box, her eyes lighting up as she’s met with the silver band with jagged grooves and a sun engraved into it. “A sun” she said out loud s you opened yours, pulling the similar ring out, but this one had a moon instead of sun.

you reach and grab her hand once again, sliding the moon ring onto her ring finger. She smiled, using her thumb to twist and turn it. Before she got totally distracted, she shook her head and grabbed your hand, repeating the same actions.

you both stared at your rings for a stupidly amount of time before Luna throws her arms around you “I love it!” she exclaims, making the smile on your face even brighter if possible. “i’m glad you do.” you whisper, holding her close to you.

pulling away you give her a quick kiss that wouldn’t have been so quick if you weren’t surrounded by idiots. “That was so cute!” the voice of Pansy shouted. You and Luna pull away from each other to watch as an invisibility cloak fell off your slytherin friends.

“Pansy!” all three boys yell before looking down in shame. “Oh fuck off, i couldn’t hold it in” Pansy snapped. draco picked the cloak off the floor, shoving it at her chest “It took me hours to steal this from Potter and you had to go and ruin it!” he accused.

“How did i ruin it!?”

“I believe Draco said to not make any noise while under the cloak as to not disturb Luna and Y/n” Theo points out, causing Pansy to send a glare his way, but it didn’t phase him in the slightest. They all start to argue while you and Luna look at each other wondering how you had friends like this.

“I love you” Luna spoke, holding your hand up to kiss your finger. You smile and repeat the same action with hers “I love you too Luna”

☼-☪-☼

Click here to join my Taglist! @the--queen-of-hell @dracosathenaeum @queeriacs @marrymetheonott

☼-☪-☼

Kody: i apologize for the Hermione slander, it was needed for plot. Forgive me for i have not slept yet lmao. Requests are open as always for any fandom i have in my bio. Anyways, peace.

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

Text

What I Thought About "Echoes of the Past" from The Owl House

Salutations, random people on the internet who most certainly won’t read this. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

What probably gets debated the most in the fandom is the legitimacy behind King being the King of Demons. Some believe that there's truth to his statement, while others, like me, like to think that he was just some stray Eda picked up off the streets. Either option seemed likely, especially since Season One never gave an answer that leaned one way or the other.

Then here comes the writers finally answering the question of who King is in episode THREE of Season Two! Because, again, they don't waste time on giving fans exactly what they want.

Fans wanted answers behind King, we got 'em, and analyzing what those answers mean requires going deep into spoilers. So if you haven't checked the episode out yet, I highly recommend that you do. Trust me, it's worth seeing.

Now let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Luz Experimenting with Spells: Hey, look! More proof that Luz isn't an idiot like some people flanderize her to be!

But, seriously though, this is a perfect little thread to introduce into the story. Luz collecting knowledge from Lilith's old books and past work she and Eda made adds to Luz's intelligence while also providing a believable explanation for how she gets new spells. It's also nice to see that she has this little notebook (or spellbook) to help see what works and what doesn't. It's a level of experimentation that proves her dedication to becoming a witch while also exemplifying how she isn't stupid. Occasionally reckless, sure, but you can't say that the person who figured out an invisibility spell through showing her work is also an idiot.

Francios with a Knife: How did Francois get a knife? I don't know. But the fact that a random knife plopped out behind him with little to no explanation is funny, and I will not hear otherwise.

I don't make the rules. I just abide by them.

Luz’s Invisibility Spell: I breezed past this, but I honestly love this invisibility spell. More specifically, I love that there's a limiter. It can turn you, objects, and people you're in contact with invisible, but only as long as you can hold your breath. It helps make the spell something the characters can't always rely on, which is appreciated. Because if it works as long as they concentrate, what's stopping them from sneaking into Belos' castle and assassinating him in his sleep? It's a smart way of explaining why they can't always rely on something, despite how insanely useful it is.

Luz: Let's gush about Luz some more, shall we!

"Echoes of the Past" is another episode that has Luz on top form. She is constantly supportive of King, even if Lilith has a point in the dangers of indulging his fantasy as a powerful tyrant. Doing so would cause more harm than good, especially when King finds out Luz doesn't believe him, but her going along with it was all done with the best of intentions. Luz doesn't want to hurt her friend, and even if she did in the long run, she still makes up for it by helping King learn more about his past.

And, as another reminder, Luz isn't stupid. She's the first to say they should leave when it's clear how dangerous the castle is and is quick to figure out there should be more at the top. Luz is a loyal and caring friend who's also guarded and intuitive when the situation calls for it. This episode understood that, so here's hoping other fans will too.

Lilith: Yeah, she's still growing on me.

I feel like this episode shows a better idea of Lilith's place in the group more than the past two. She's a person who's obsessed with knowledge and learning but considers herself above the jovial nature of King, Luz, and definitely Eda. Therefore, she acts as the perfect catalyst for what jumpstarts this week's adventure. It doesn't surprise me in the slightest that she almost instantly dismisses King's claims due to considering herself more knowledgeable than everyone else. Still, I like how she's willing to believe King once she finally sees evidence that seemingly proves he really was the King of Demons, to the point of referring to him as "her lord." Hooty does the same thing, but it comes across as him fearing for his own life and choosing to be friends with someone who could maybe kill him in an instant. For Lilith, her newfound respect comes from the desire to learn more, and it's that desire that makes Lilith an enjoyable character to me. It's adorable to see, and it has some comedic flavor in moments like when she dismisses everyone else and their emotional revelations to take pictures of the carvings around her. I'm sure she'll cause some controversy like other characters with rushed reformations, but for me, I'm more than ok with her addition to the main cast.

More of Lilith’s and Hooty’s Friendship: HOW DOES THIS WORK!?

ON PAPER, IT SEEMS LIKE IT WOULD BE A BAD IDEA, BUT IT F**KING WORKS!

HOW?!

WHAT BLACK MAGIC DID THESE WRITERS USE TO MAKE A RELATIONSHIP SO UNEXPECTED COME ACROSS AS SO ENDEARING AND ADORABLE?!

And where can I get some for my stories...just asking.

But seriously: HOW?!

Hooty Making Himself Portable: Ah, yes. The classic bit where a character does something horrifically grotesque off-screen, and we have nothing but character reactions and sound effects to imagine what happened between shot A and shot B. It's an oldie, but given how hard I was laughing (mostly because of Luz's gagging), it's still a goodie.

Eda’s Portable Bathtub Boat Thing: I mean...I was expecting Eda would use something to catch up with the others, but...that thing...well...I mean, I'm still laughing just by thinking about it. That should tell you how well executed this joke was.

John Luke: ...I'm gonna go ahead and add him to the list because HOLY S**T was this guy disturbing! From his design to his movements to even the sounds he makes when moving, everything about John Luke screams as something that will stay in kids' nightmares for a while. Now, this might seem like a complaint, but to be honest, I'm more than alright with how creepy John Luke is. I highly doubt adult viewers will consider John Luke scary, but I guarantee he'll terrify some of the youngins that this series is aimed for. And that's fine. It's good to creep kids out a little bit with something somewhat scary, as it might introduce them to more good horror stories later in life.

Plus, the reveal that John Luke was only a guard for King is pretty solid narratively speaking. You can see how John never really meant to hurt King aside from one accident when Eda escaped with him. If you want to read into it, I guess it might be questionable to tell kids that something that looks dangerous is secretly nice, but that's really nitpicky, in my opinion. John Luke was a fantastic threat that is designed and animated well, with a solidly executed twist. Some might hate what he presents, most will fear him, but we can all agree on one thing: His theme is awesome (can I get the track for that, please)!

King’s Backstory: Finally, at long last, we know who King is, thus putting an end to a year-long debate. And I fully mean it when I say that the writers gave the best possible answer. Because in a way, everyone was right. Yes, King was just an animal that Eda decided to adopt, like the nature-loving hippie she is inside (She's got the hair for it). However, while he may not be the King of Demons himself, he is still the son of someone who deserves that title. So while he isn't the King, there's a chance he might be the Prince. Once again, there's no direct answer, but given how the writers came up with something that pleases everyone while still providing more questions for debate, it acts as a brilliant move, in my opinion. So whatever answer we get next, I'm sure it will be just as perfect.

Baby King:

My heart was not prepared for that level of cuteness!

King’s Breakdown: NOR WAS IT READY FOR THIS LEVEL OF SADNESS!

But in all seriousness, a HUGE round of applause to Alex Hirsch for his performance in this episode. He expertly captured the raw emotions of shock, anger, betrayal, and sadness that King must have felt when finding out that everything he believed he was is a lie. It's one of those moments where I don't hear a person voicing lines in a booth (or wherever the hell VAs are voicing characters nowadays), but instead hear a living person being emotionally torn apart. It was heartbreaking seeing King so vulnerable as he's so guarded with his emotions. Seeing him like this adds so much more layers to a character that many would mistake him as a cute, comedic animal sidekick. But just like with Luz, there's more to him than people will tell you.

“I don’t even know what’s real or fake anymore!”: I'm just pointing out this line because I believe it's what convinces Luz to help King learn more about who he is. Hell, not knowing what's real or fake is the main reason why Luz got sent away in the first place, so I feel like she can relate to King when he's in a similar predicament.

Hooty and Lilith vs John Luke: This was just a cool scene with some epic moments of dodging John Luke's attacks and some funny ones, like how Hooty said the word "pain." It's a ten out of ten that I would rewind to watch again.

King’s Other Horn: I'd question the logistics of how a horn that got broken off when he was a baby still manages to fit perfectly in the present...but it is neat symbolism of King accepting his past and letting it be a part of him, so who cares?

(The fact that the colors of the broken-off piece don't match the rest of the horn is nice attention to detail as well.)

WHAT I DISLIKED

It's a Little Too Predictable: I pretty much figured almost every little twist the episode offers. But, I'm willing to say that's because I'm in my twenties, and I've seen enough stories similar to this one, so I'm more likely to know what will happen. The little monsters watching this will see it for the first time, so they'll most likely get more surprised than me...And that was my only complaint about the episode...which is more of a personal problem than an actual issue...I guess that means it's perfect.

IN CONCLUSION

"Echoes of the Past" is an easy A+ in my book. It gives lore and backstory that furtherly develops the characters that episodes like this should. It also tells a tragic story about King that still sprinkles in a few good jokes every now and again to lighten up the mood. Sure, there are some nitpicks I could mention (how did King remember his own birth?). But when the good stuff is done so well, what's the point of dwelling on small, insignificant issues? This is still a phenomenal episode that flew past all expectations I had for it, and it continues the winning steak this season is having so far.

(But that's still three home runs in a row. Meaning that a stinker is coming. Ooiee, is it coming!)

#the owl house #the owl house season 2 #king of demons #luz noceda #lilith clawthorne #toh hooty #the owl house reviews #what i thought about

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